|Crimson Flood: Book 1
Author: AmeLB PM
After having repeated nightmares, Roderick feels it's time to tell his fellow members about them and what he thinks it means: The end of Man-kind. This, in turn, would lead to the end of their own kind: the Vampires. Who's behind it and can they stop themRated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Adventure - Chapters: 10 - Words: 19,520 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 04-19-08 - Published: 03-07-08 - id: 2485711
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The air was thick with the smell of blood. The ground was stained with the color of it. Now and again, there was a spot of some unknown substance; thick and rotting in the moonlight. No life could be found here; no soul could be found near. Everything was gone. Everything was dead.
As with the countless times before, he could not pull his eyes away. His heightened senses picked up everything before him. The humans had no chance to live, he knew. It had been a useless effort; pointless. They had killed them without a thought of mercy; of concern. Even through all that realization of the beings that killed them, it was not what frightened him the most.
What did was the fact that the scene excited him. The smell had him licking his lips, thinking of the way the hunt must have gone. The sight only honed the imagination. So much blood had been wasted on the ground. The need took him, burning within his veins. His body shook with anticipation of what was to come.
The crimson liquid flowed from the street ahead of him, slowly and small. Other streets around him followed. Soon, the mess was around him, warm and pulsing with a dark power. He tried to move through it, but found he could not, just like the other times. Though, this time he could move his head. The buildings had the crimson drink seeping out the windows like tears from the eyes of the humans who were once there.
Then the laugh came.
That cold, scratchy laugh pulled all of the thick crimson concoction in front of him. It formed a large wave before him, climbing higher into the air as the laughter grew louder. He turned his head in search of the person laughing. When he could barely look over his shoulder, the laugh stopped to let out humor-strained words:
"Die, die, DIE! They all must DIE!" Then the laugh erupted with the roar of the crimson tidal wave as it washed over the skyscrapers towards him. He turned to the oncoming destruction and tried to throw his power out to stop it from hitting him. It would be useless, he knew, just like all the other times he tried to stop the wave from crushing him, drowning him in his cursed needs. In the blood of the humans he drank from.
It wouldn't kill him. It couldn't. It was just a dream. The horrible dream he could never wake himself from. He knew he was screaming in the real world, crying out from the pain that was waiting for him in life. Even now he could feel the hands of his servant shaking him to the realm of the living.