Here I have written Tara's death for Screaming Faeries's prompt challenge.
I found it really strange and sort of heartless that the show didn't show Tara's death. Maybe because they did it twice? Whatever. Below I have written it.
It was the end of the world. The demons were going to kill them. The drooling, veiny demons with fangs. The screams. The sprays of blood, the ripping and tearing of flesh, both human and vampire. The mixer had turned into a nightmare. The tables were toppled, the stage destroyed, unlucky humans making their ways to their cars. They weren't fast enough. Doors were ripped open. Some were tripped, ambushed, and drained on the spot. Those select few were grabbed and pulled away—kidnapped for later.
Lettie Mae prayed furiously for God to save them—to save her and her baby Tara—but she didn't see Him. Maybe because He didn't want to save Tara—because she was a vampire now—and maybe Lettie Mae was being punished. Because He didn't come, and she sat frozen, shaking. She couldn't move. Her eyes were wide and she shook.
The night sky was dark, foreboding, and vast above them just like Hell should've been. The darkness didn't part as she wished it would. There were no rays of light from the heavens. No massive hands to reach down and shield her. Not even a strike of lighting to end her terror by smiting her altogether, or to kill one of the demons around her.
"They're gonna kill us. They're gonna kill us. We're gonna die," she said, over and over. This was it. The end. She was a sinner, and sinners died, and that was her fate. No matter how much she had prayed, gone to church, or made love to the Reverend.
Lettie Mae heard him shouting for her among the chaos. Willa was pulling him away. Lettie Mae choked and her heart pounded. Tara grabbed her arm to heave her up but her mother held onto the car she crouched against.
"I'm not moving!" she said.
"Come on, momma. We have to go! We have to get out of here!" Tara beseeched.
Lettie Mae was in a frightened daze. "They're gonna kill us!"
Her daughter heard movement and spun around. Lettie Mae looked over her shoulder and screamed, pressing herself against the car's tire. An infected vampire, burly and bald, stood eight feet away, fangs bare and dripping with blood. His pasty skin was covered in deep blue, budging veins.
"Yer momma's right," he drawled.
Tara moved instantly, meeting his lunge with a strike. Lettie Mae cried out. The vampires fought in blurs, their hits sounding like sharp smacks. Tara managed several consecutive hits at the infected vampire's ugly mug, and then he grabbed her by the neck.
"Dear Lord, dear Lord—I don't wanna die here!" the older woman yelled.
Tara ripped the hand from her neck and flung her knee for a vicious hit to the vampire's jaw. "Momma, run!" she shouted. "Get the fuck outta here!"
But Lettie Mae still did not move, just stared at them, hands lifted to shield her face. Her legs trembled, dress hitched unintentionally. She didn't notice. There was a trickle of liquid from between her legs. She didn't feel it either.
Tara fought harder than she ever had. She fought for herself and her momma. She had to protect her—despite everything that had happened, the painful, ugly past. Because now it didn't matter now. Lettie Mae would always be her momma. You couldn't choose family. So the girl gritted her teeth and threw the infected vampire to the ground. The air whooshed out of him. He might've been older—who knew—but he was weak. Tara had the advantage of being healthy.
One of her hands darted to a stick a few feet away that was large enough to work as a stake and she grabbed it. The vampire sat up but Tara rushed and kicked him back down.
"Fucking cunt," he swore below her. Tara hovered over him and raised the stick above his heart. "I'm gonna fucking kill ya, and then I'm gonna ass fuck and drain yer moth-"
Tara roared and drove the wood, but his hand shot out to stop her. Tara's voice was so deadly that Lettie Mae, whose eyes were still riveted on them, silenced for a moment. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, motherfucker. You're not gonna touch a fuckin' hair on my momma's head, or I swear to God, you're gonna be ass fucked."
The vampire snapped at her like a rabid dog, holding her by the wrist of the hand that held the stick. His arm shook. Tara pressed harder and inched closer to his heart. Blood leaked out of his mouth and the corners of his eyeballs, which protruded almost as awfully as his veins.
Then Tara moved one of her legs. He grunted. She shoved her knee right into his crotch. Infected or not, vampire or human, he still had a dick. And he saw stars.
"FU-" he hollered.
And that was enough. Tara shoved the stick. It went right through his chest. His expression was one of wickedly satisfying terror. His body was like water balloon, a chunky red balloon, that popped. Tara turned her head away just in time so that none of it would get into her mouth or eyes. But it coated the side of her head.
"Now, momma. Get the fuck up!"
She moved and grabbed her mother, tore her away from the car. Tara looked down, saw that Lettie Mae had pissed herself, a stain on her dress, glistening trails on her legs, but her mother, speechless, had finally ceased to protest. And Tara's eyes glistened from seeing her this way. The girl frowned. Her poor momma. Her frightened, poor momma. Lettie Mae held onto her arms, traumatized.
"Let's go. I'm gonna get you outta, gonna get ya to safe—"
Then Lettie Mae's eyes widened as she looked past Tara's head. There was a blur behind her baby girl, who didn't have enough time to turn around. Another infected vampire—a tall skinny woman who looked as white trash as they came—raised an iron rod in her hand.
Lettie Mae let out a blood-curdling scream. Tara's eyes widened, but she wasn't even given a chance to speak. The iron rod pierced through the girl's middle. And Tara's young face suddenly exploded. The blood and guts of her child fell, her only child, splattering the woman's front.
Lettie Mae let out a wretched wail and bawled at the top of her lungs. "Tara! My baby!" Her knees met the cold hard ground.
She didn't hear the odd whistle that sounded, nor watched as the skinny vampire suddenly vanished.
The woman looked up at the sky, raising her blood covered hands. "Lord Jesus! They killed my Tara!"
Maybe Lettie Mae killed her in reality? What do you think? Should I write a second version?
Please let me know what you think in the review section! It takes a second! And check out my current True Blood Fic, "The Secret Man," for more of my writing!
Thanks! :)