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Friday, September 19, 2008

Random dictionary poem?!

1. Obilterate
2. Mayhem
3. Lucent
4. Grueling
5. Depreciate
6. Stoop
7. Odious
8. Methodic
9. Tramp
10. Cadaver
11. Devoted
12. Forlorn
13. Lustrious
14. Labyrinth
15.Zealous

Poem
Obliterate what you know of hope,
Replace it with thoughts of mayhem.
Of lucent dreams that always ends in a grueling pain.
With no way to depreciate any of the madness
The soul stoops into the depression of the abyss
With an odious fate that befalls to whom so ever dreams of freedom.
Though the caverns of darkness may be ravenous,
It soothes one’s empty soul with sensuous, morbid, methodic intent.
Like the lace on the dress of a tramp caresses her cadaver in a soft breeze.
Though the soul is devoted to the wistfulness of pleasure and hope,
It is forlorn to such delights in the dark abyss.
The soul soon defeated, loses all lustrous optimism
To the labyrinth of incessant pain,
And the malevolent dark chasm that renders the soul
To the furthest reaches of Hell.
A zealous place where malicious entities that devour one’s life force.
Sentencing it to an eternity of torturous pain.

The Story: Purity Lost

The night howled with ominous winds so cold they bit one’s face with bitterness and malice. The freezing air threatened to obliterate any hope of finding comfort and warmth. The mayhem that plagued her mind was her rationality to teeter on the brink of going insane. She could not take the dreams of lucent creatures and unimaginably grueling pain. There was no solution the maddening agony; she knew that the suffering was incessant and could never be depreciated. Her soul felt lost and hungered after freedom and love with every bit of itself. Her soul begins to stoop in the icy darkness of the frigged abyss that occupied her heart, body, mind, and soul. The girl dare not dream of peace and of being free from the hell, for the fear of an odious fate befalling her and consuming her whole in a blanket—No, a cavern—of darkness. Tendrils ominous tendrils caress her mind and body with a morbid, sensuous, but methodic intent. It is the lace of the of a tramp’s skirt, whom’s addictive and dangerous wiles caused her untimely demise, which blows in a slight breeze as if to softly caress her lifeless cadaver.
Her mind is again assailed with visions and voices of painless days and wholesome nights of a lover. Only to be reminded of her soul’s devotion to the wistfulness of pleasure and all hope. All the love and care that her soul strives for, is struck with the forlorn reality to such delights and cast into the ever dark abyss. She fights with the whole of her heart and soul to regain some peace of mind; to win back some part of her humanity…
She is losing her war with herself and the profound darkness and can’t help but want to scream. Her soul releases a distinct shriek that resonates through time and space as it voices its disdain for the sordid, malevolence that impends on pain. All too soon, her soul is defeated, losing all its lustrous optimism for hope and peace; loses it to the elaborate labyrinth of incessant paroxysm, throes of pain; losing her soul to a malevolent, ebony chasm that renders the soul to the furthest reaches of Hell.
Sorrow greets her as she is hurdled through the fiery expanses of this zealous place. A torrent of agony and regrets assail her as grueling entities capture and devour her pure life force that once held such value, hope and luster. What had she done for her soul to deserve such an unwilling, twisted fate? What had she done that permitted her soul to be desecrated—sentenced to an eternity of torturous pain and agony?..

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Journal Entry One

July 5, 1765
It has been a full decade since that blood thirsty fiend took the life of my husband Leon. The creature was a rogue, no less a nomad and happened upon our humble mansion. "Have you bedding for a helpless soul such as I?" I stood there and glared at him--I knew what he was, I have sensed his aura before. His eyes were ice blue but clear nonetheless, and he stared me down as if I were a scared rabbit and him the voracious wolf. Before I objected my husband stood aside and allowed him passage. The stranger walked into the house and into the foyer and stood by a cluster of candles which showed his features perfectly. The long ebony hair reached slightly passed his strong broad shoulders and framed his God-like features. His lips were full and in a slight pout, and high cheek bones accented his strong jaw. His whole body was taut and sewn with sinewy muscles from his neck to his legs. His whole body radiated power and danger. He wore a long black coat and black boots. His visage greatly contrasted to his tanned brown skin perfectly. The man was pure perfection at its greatest. But I knew better something that my husband never knew about others; I knew...
"Let me show to the room, my good uhh.."
"Craven. The name is Craven." His thick Australian accent was smooth and it cut through the darkness of the usually quiet mansion. My husband apologized for his confusion then went off to make ready the guest room. I was left alone with the creature who soul was forced two suffer eternal damnation.
“How goes it? I assume you are plenty ready for the Calling tonight?” he crooned in a sensuous manner.
“Do not attempt to affiliate myself with your workings. You make my skin crawl just by being here. Do you know how hard it is to for my husband to stay sleeping as I erase my husband’s memories of you after you come by every night?” I hissed vehemently. His eyes flashed red and with inhuman speed, literally, his hand shot out and seized my upper arm then wrenched me towards his torso, where he stared venom into my face. “Take care in what you say my dear woman or would you prefer I sever your head where you stand?” Face to face, and voice full of malice and promise.
I wrenched my arm from his Herculean grasp and scoffed at his threat. “Do not make me wretch. I will to see the day that you attempt such a foolish act” I sneered. Craven’s face softened and stepped closer to me. “Tsk, tsk. Such a resilient woman—one of valor and pride..” he paused as he slowly circled me. “I know the one thing that you fear the most that will render your bravado to dung.” He stated in his low pitch in my ear. I gasped at the sudden closeness of his body to mine. “Your child…” My mouth hung and my eyes enlarged in pure, unfiltered terror. He could not possibly know about my baby...
“You Hell spawned demon!” I hissed as I whirled around and tried to slap him, but he was gone. Then so began another night of turmoil and pure Hell.
Not too long after Craven had gotten settled and everyone was asleep did I wake up and begin the nightly ritual of erasing my husband’s memories of Craven ever being there. It did not take long, but there was a presence that was slightly unnerving about tonight. I stopped in the middle of my chant and listened intently on what ever sounds I could pick up in the black of the room. A small wheeze came from my husband and I snapped my head towards him and continued to listen. He was speaking?
“Kill the creature lover, kill the creature lover” it was repetitively coming off his lips. Fear and confusion struck me hard as realization hit me. “Why would Craven for a spare to sleep in? He has never asked that before?” Before I could figure out an answer, Leon gasped loudly before he was gurgling.
There was no need for a candle, for I knew was transpiring. Caught in the jaws of a creature so vile, God himself cast its soul to the farthest reaches of Hell itself. My heart ached tremendously over seeing my husband drained of his life in front of me.
“There you have gotten what you have wanted. Now leave before I end your wretched existence.” My voice was cold and emotionless. Craven laughed gruffly as he slowly rose to his full height, which was a little over six feet, and wiped my husband’s blood from his lips. “I would love to see you try little girl” he said with challenge in his voice. With out warning Craven let out a laugh that chilled me to the bone before shifting out of sight.
I let out a deep sigh as I lit a candle near the bed. I turned my attentions back on my now late husband and frowned with confusion and disdain. His face was not pale like a human drained of their blood should be as—with the blue lips and what have you—no, they were pink and there was blood covering them. “What the devil…” interest and curiosity filled my mind more than anything else. I tentatively took my parted his top lip with my thumb and gasped aloud. “He was a V’mpire” the thought raced through my head as the possibility of my late husband being a V’mpire tried to make sense of it all. Out of all, two questions reoccurred in my mind; How was my husband a V’mpire and how had I not sensed it before?, and How and why did Craven know about it?

July 12, 1965
A whole has passed since my 'husband' was killed. I never really understood the full reason why I was not able to sense him like the other vampires. He acted like other mortals, but I quess he was little more friendly to the women more than the men during our marriage, then again I do not know.
I have been going about the towns in Russia, trying to find Craven so I can kick his undead ass. More un-undead if you ask me. I roamed Siberia for about a week and pursued after Craven. I met a few people along the way who were extremely curtious and allowed me to bed in their homes, but the gruesome part of my stays at the homes--in the mornings, the couples would be brutally murdered and their life source drained completely from their bodies, which caused a very pail, bluish tint to their face and lips; their bodies would be stiff and cold not to mention that the sight of their mutilated cadavers were ghastly and made my stomach writhe in disgust. I had gotten used to it, but each time, I found that I was covered in their blood on my mouth and my body. 'Did I kill them?' was the question that occured inside my head over and over.
'Did they beg for mercy and I not hear it?' Questions continuously throttled, and choked my mind like a five year old child in a strip bar full of smokers, too many questions at once.
I needed to find Craven fast and find answers, or I might just be consumed by my own need for relief and peace of mind. 'I'll find you, you sorry bastard'. I needed to focus; so I headed for Moscow, his home town...

August 2, 1968
It had been three after I journied to Moscow in search of Craven. He had answers that I desperately needed and wanted. Why was it that I had to go and find him when it should be he that needs to come to me? My associate was a few blocks down from me and I do not know if you knew I was there, but something told me not to fool myself.

It has been hard ot concentrate when there was strong hunger pulling at the back of my mind. I needed nurishment and needed it soon; it seemed that solid food was no longer sating this hunger inside of me. It was burning ache that needed to be quelled. In the back of my mind, I believe I have known what was happening, but did not want to accept it or my nature...

Usually at bars, when I seldom went out for fear of being seen by Craven, I would be distracted by heart beats all around me. These heart beats were usually men who could not keep there eyes off of me much less keep there fantasies from running wild on how good I might be in bed. Their quickened pulses flooded my ears and intoxicated me, making me more enticed with getting closer to that pulse. I would lure one of sex crazed men to a back alley and pose as a prostitute, while all the while listening to that beautiful pulse that rang in my ears so deliciously. Soon, all I could hear was the rapid beating of his heart. I was all too soon lost in the sound and a dark veil would fall over my mind, encasing me in a sea of blackness. There would be a gruff scream that would pierce the darkness and snap me back to reality. They mostly never lived in that short span of time I was trapped in the darkness. If they did manage to live, I had to quickly dispose of any evidence of my being there. I had to sink my teeth in their neck and moan in gratification as their thick, rich, warm liquid poured down my throat. I would once again be lost to euphoric tastes of man, but forbade by God. Once I could no longer milk any more that delicious life force, I slowly returned to my body, and made my self scarce, terrified of what was happening to me. 'What am I becoming? I'm so scared! GOD HELP ME!!'

September 2, 1969
Craven has found me out while I was on one of my nightly escapades at the bars. In that time span I have seen people move and die away. There have been some suspicions spreading around the town accusing that I was not human. I prefer the term, a human who has an heightened immune system and superhuman strength. Oh and let us not forget a different sustanence to stay alive.

I was in "Любовь" which translates into "Love" in Russian. And I was unintentionally scanning the small crowd for my next victim. I had recognized him instantly and scoffed at my rotten decayed luck, or lack there of. He'd sauntered over with such inhuman grace and took a seat at the bar next to me.


"you can't control it can you?" he chided in his thick Australian drawl. It gave me shivers when ever he spoke to me.

"I have no idea what you are accusing me of. And what do you mean by 'can't control it'?" I said with full indignation. I had only earned myself embarassment as he threw his head back and a thundering laugh rolled out of his throat. Every man in the bar stared daggers at me. 'Great' I thought foolishly.

"Will you stop you're an embarassment to he human race" I said vehemently. His roaring laugh and grabbed my upper arm and pulled me close to him, so much so that I felt his hot breath on my face, which was contorted in amused rage.

"You think me--us--part of the human race? Come on Veroska, you know that if any of these people found out what we are they would take us to the gallows and enjoy--in many different cultures of it--hanging and or torturing us. Plus humans' have no honor or valor. They mindlessly make bad accusations, and presumptions, and fear of what they do not and will never know of in their pitiful existence. They are nothing but cattle to us my sweat little morsel and I intend on keeping the balance between predator and prey. I do not play with my food." He hissed each word with such disdain and hatred for mankind that it scared the hell out of me, but just barely.

I glared at him and huffed in submission as he let go of my arm. He once more took possession of me, but this time he had grabbed me from behind my neck and pulled my head towards his; before I could gather what he was trying to do his beautiful full lips came crashing down upon my own in a soul sucking, heated, searing kiss. All thoughts, including the one that was wondering what was doing in the first place, was erased from my mind. I nearly forgot my name as he messaged my tongue with his. I soon caught on to his intentions and looked aroung the bar, and sure enough their lecherous nature, the men in the bar stared almost savagely at Craven and I having our faces make love. I inwardly smiled and decided to play and upped the anty the little. I wrapped my arms around Craven's shoulders as he stood and pressed our bodies fully together now. And to add the 'suspence' even more I hooked my left leg around his right hip and pretended to moan, in which he grabbed my thigh to add to the show. I heard an older man whisper, "This is hot, hey Vlad?" in Russian and smiled. To up it even more I rubbed a hand to Craven's hair and took a hand full it in my fist. I heard Vlad's witty response and unintentionally brushed Craven's rump with my free hand. Craven growled and stared at me with his hypnotizing eyes and gestured with them to the bar. I winked in an agreeing response now knowing that he was going to throw on top of the bar and continue to kiss me as if my kiss would save his life.

'Oh my god, he can really fake it!' My mind was boggled at how well he could kiss.

A few minutes after he threw on top of the bar, a crowd had formed and Craven left my lips and trailed a quick line of open mouthed kisses to my earlobe where he spoke to me.

"Do you have your knives on you?" He asks gravely, while keeping up the illusion that he is pleasuring me.

'Mmhm' was my quick but convincing answer, where he mumbled a swift 'good' before he trapped my earlobe between his teeth and sucked on it, causing me to cry out in surprise. He trailed kisses back up to my lips and pressed hard on them. He then tool my hand and guided to my inner thigh where my daggers were and had me grip one of them. He then lifted his lips off of my lips and stared down at me with amusement in his eyes, causing me to look at him with confused, suspicion.

"Do you feel it?" He says aloud for all to hear. I knew this little game.

I rolled my eyes and scoff, but play along. "Yeah I feel it." I say with mock seduction.

He gives a short chuckle before telling me my cue.

"Are you ready?" he asks breathlessly. I nod and wraps his hand around the other knife.

"NOW!" Is all he shouts before we simultaneously yank out a knife from under my skirt, jumped off the bar and assumed a fighting stance. The men stared blankly at us before laughing loudly.

"Can you believe this, Vlad?" The man from before asked. I scrunched my nose at him and gave him the universal single finger that meant "Screw off!" The men scowled and lunged toward us. I caught the first one in the back of his head and push him off. All my surroundings were blurred when a uncontrollable, strange blood shroud covered my eyes and I blacked out.

"That was amazing Kija." Craven crooned; his smooth, soft voice cut through the haze of the blood curtain sheilding my vision. I stood and blood ran down my face and arms. I lifted the blade to my lips and slowly slid my tongue down the dull side of the blade, and relished in the wonderful mixture of life forces; all the while my eyes were on Craven who had a blood lusting smirk on his face.

"You are learning fast my dear girl" He said smuggly. He then walked over to me and kissed me fully on the lips.
"I have could never think of a better wife than you, Kija." He whispered in my ear.

My eyes flew open as a small breeze wisked across my face as he disappeared into thin air. My mind was boggled and shocked to say the least. There was only one word that rang louder than any of the questions that began to form in my mind.

"What?"

Classified!!

Janos Kelting is my name. I am what some people might call a vampire, but prefer the term cleaner of the gene pool. I am over eight hundred years old, but the face and physique of a man in his mid-twenties; I have been around the block long enough to know what I want. I have no existing family, but sorely with that I had...
I live in Randolph New York and need tenants that slake my 'need' to survive. Hey it is a living, even though it is a grotesque, sadistic, and morbid one, it still is.
A non-social background is where I do my business with the realastate and possible buyers. Though people think that my kind bursts into flames when we come into contact with the sun, which is absolutely perposturous, we do not. I am a rogue most of the time, but had to settle down two hundred years back when the abundance of 'food' grew durastically.
I rented out an apartment for $450 a month to some woman two years ago; she was single--in my opinion looked desperate to find a male companion--and was quite attractive, but this was survival, pleaure was strictly limited and business was next to God. Growing up in Europe during the last Crusades was pure Hell. My family slaughtered and the woman I loved for so long was raped and then brutally crusified before my eyes. We were all devoutely religious, but after my wife was killed there was no God in the world.
My purpose is revenge on the rat bastards sixth great granddaughter. To rid the planet of 'his' kind and family.
It was on a Saturday afternoon when she called and asked for an interview for the apartment. I agreed and drove out to the apartment at the time she had set us to meet at. Gorgeous young woman, long, dark auburn hair that shimmered in the sun. Eyes that shone, and glistened as the sea. Her angelic face pulled everything together. That day was the best and most perfect day of my entire existance. We daid our hellos and I ushered her into the apartment where she would be more 'comfortable'. After the tour she decided to buy it. "I love it" she said with such sweet excitement. She moved in a month later.
After two months I visited her and allowed me in--like with vampires we have to be allowed into some ones home--and led me into the living room. We sonversed for some time and she went to the kitchen to get me something to 'drink'. I followed her as she reached into the fridge. I made my move. "You fool". Revenge is so sweet...

~~FIN~~

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

This is my first Creative writing Blog!

Hola peeps!! ^-^