Death Wish Scene 1
A girl leaned against a solitary lamp post on a bustling city street. She wore her usual clothing; baggy cargo jeans, and a too-small black jacket, the hood covering most of her face in shadow. Her eyes were blue, if you could restrict the ever changing sea to that one color. Her eyes could change from hard, mica flecked grey, to tones of shimmering, vibrant aqua, depending on her mood. Right now, they were at their grayest extreme, the color they lately seemed turned to constantly, permanently, expressing anger, violence, helplessness. Her short hair was cropped messily at her shoulders, unkempt, but still a glossy ebony. Her lips were stained with what appeared to be lipstick.
Stars flickered overhead in the dark night sky. Happy couples, teens, and families walked by, laughing and talking. Across the street, a group of teenage boys wandered the streets aimlessly, with no particular purpose She looked up, her overly pale face reflecting the streetlight above her. She glared at them. Like horses grazing in a field, they milled about, sampling the city. She had dropped her stare to the ground again, but now she lifted her gaze a second time, and peered at one of the boys from behind her long dark lashes. He had short brown hair, cropped closely to his head, and his hazel-green eyes darted about, wary, but excited. He walked at the end of the group, slouching,and He seemed to seamlessly fit into the shadow that cast over from the building that was behind him, shying from the streetlights. The girl stood in the streetlights only in a pitiful attempt to escape the darkness that was left of her "life". She flashed back to the first of many encounters with one particular vampire.. Scene 2
She sat in a parlor quietly reading a book. At the time she was about fifteen. Afternoon sunlight, hazy and golden, left white-gold strips of light on the Oriental rug, shining through the slats in the blinds. A polite knock sounded on the door. The click of her mother's heels sounded down the wooden floor of the large hallway leading to the door. Soft voices filtered into the room, the stranger and her mother conversing. But she paid no attention. But footsteps neared the room she sat in, and she lifted her gaze up curiously. A man of about eighteen stepped into the room. She had no idea who he was, but he was both undeniably compelling, and bone- chillingly terrifying. She shivered. In his hands he held a single white rose. He stepped closer to her, looking at her with hungry eyes.
"Setiva...". He hissed her name, looking for all the world like a contented adder who had just cornered its favorite meal. She stood, frozen by his hypnotic stare, oblivious to all around her. Time seemed to freeze. He held out the rose, a sort of mocking smile plastered on his face. Her hands seemed to move without her consent, reaching out to grasp the flower's slender stem. A sting of pain seemed to ring like the fragile sound of a triangle on the edge of her consciousness. The mysterious stranger looked down at her hand, still smiling his mocking smile. Her blank stare dimly followed his gaze. On the skin of her hands, was a single, slightly translucent drop of blood. Every rose has its thorns.
This metaphor for the stranger in front of her whispered in her head. The droplet dripped down her hand, down the rose stem, to the bloom, staining the pure white bright scarlet. Another drop welled in its place. The stranger licked his lips, then bowed low. He turned, and was gone out of the door. He had never said anything but her name..She stood in the receding sunlight until her mother stepped in the room, looking anxious.
"Setiva, who was that?" she said with concern, breaking her out of her trance. She shook her head to clear it.
"I'm fine," she said, distractedly, trying to convince herself that her words were true. Scene 3
Her mind snapped back to the dark and crowded city streets. She had, unnoticed, been following the group of boys to a large bar on the street corner. A flashing neon light advertised different beers. She paused for a moment before entering the decrepit old building. Crumbling and dirty as it was, the bar was chock full of people. She slid onto a dirty, moth eaten bar stool, near the group of boys. The bartender stepped up to her.
"Sorry, young lady, you're too young to drink. Why don't you go home now? I'm sure your parents are worried about you." Her eyes snapped up, giving him the full force of her steel stare. A deathly cold chill ran down the bartender's spine. This girl wasn't normal.
"W-what would y-you like?" he stuttered.
"Bloody Mary," she replied, in a voice gritty from disuse. The bartender was quick to bring the drink, but it sat in front of her and she didn't touch it. She turned, and bright green eyes met hers. She stared back, convinced that he would turn away, but he unflinchingly held her gaze. She got up and walked over to him.
"Hey," she said. He nodded in response.
" What's your name?" she asked. He said nothing and she thought he wasn't going to answer.
"Kaden." he said, just as she was about to turn away.
"You go to Bradbury Park often?" She nodded.
"Will I see you there then, tomorrow night? Midnight? There's going to be a party." He asked casually.
"OK." She shrugged. She left the bar without paying for her untouched drink, and wandered the night, until the first pale beams of morning sunlight colored the horizon line. Scene 4
Setiva was jumpy the next day. The ever suicidal thoughts that jumped around in her head were more insistent than usual, but her knowledge told her the truth. It was impossible for a vampire to commit suicide. She would know. She had tried. The day passed uneventfully. As early dusk began to fall, and the air's bitter chill became more apparent, she felt as though it was fire coursing through her veins, and not liquidy vampire blood. She wandered the streets until she came upon a dingy looking club.
Clusters of people stood around parked cars. She was soon inside. The crush of people inside the place was tremendous, she could hardly push her way through to a dark and dusty corner. The deafening din of the music pulsed through her. Bright, multi-colored lights criss-crossed the floor, voiced mingled in the background. She couldn't control herself much longer.....
She leapt lithely into the throng and danced. She writhed like a struggling snake, her body seemed not to be hers. She seemed to look down at herself from above, as a euphoria she never felt anywhere else, seemed to fill her being. Suddenly, she was brought sharply back to earth. She felt as though the ecstatic balloon inside her had burst. Feeling gravity snap back with a jolt, she fell towards the floor. The guy who had pushed her looked at her. She had taken off her hooded jacket and tied it around her waist, and he was staring at her shoulder, looking more than slightly freaked out.
He inched away. She knew why he was staring. It was because of the strange, tattoo-like scar on her right shoulder. It was in the shape of the gothic symbol for death. She stood up, dusting herself off, her mind already taking her back in time.
It was a few days after the stranger had come to visit her. His presence always seemed to be around her, eating unconsciously at her mind. She stood on a grassy slope overlooking the quaint Victorian mansions that made up her neighborhood.
"Hello." The voice came from behind her, and she spun, startled, almost losing her balance. It was the same strange man, again. Nervousness welled in her. She took the time to really look at him. His face seemed to be ever covered in that angelic yet evilly teasing grin. He had shockingly blue eyes, but in all their beauty, they weren't kind. They were hard and cold, like ice. His pale face was framed by unruly, unusually pale blond hair. He captivated her, but she had no idea why.
"Hi, who are you?" she blurted. He smiled in response, but something about that icily beautiful smile chilled her to the bone. He stepped closer to her, and smiled again, this time, showing his teeth. She gasped. His mouth was lined with sharpened silver-white fangs, the most prominent, his two deadly looking eye teeth. An animal terror, the feeling a rabbit gets when it's cornered by a fox, like a deer caught in the headlights filled her. It was that kind of fear that you got when you were so terrified that you were frozen, unable to run, even if it meant the difference between life and death.
He grabbed her wrist, his grip vice-like, cutting off the blood to her hand. He pulled her to him, grabbed her hair, and yanked her head back, exposing her vulnerable neck. He lowered his lips to it. His fangs broke her skin, sliding into her flesh, cold, so cold. As soon as he began to draw her blood from her, she felt as though she had been thrown into a fire that burned her soul to ashes, leaving an empty emotionless shell. Blackness swam in her vision, until it engulfed her completely. 'I'm dying...'she thought dimly.
She woke up later. She had a sickeningly metallic taste in her mouth, and for a moment she wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. Her fingers made their way up to her neck. She winced as she touched the bite- marks. Her hands...the skin on them was translucent and pale.
"We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Telerak" The stranger's now familiar voice penetrated her horrified shock. She spun, angry fire burning in her eyes, but only managed to choke out one word.
"Because I can." He replied with his usual infuriating smile. "Have fun." With that, he leapt over the edge of the slope. She let out a small squeak of dismay. Telerak's shape, soaring effortlessly through the sky, disappeared into the breaking dawn. Setiva felt numb. Telerak soon became a common and hated visitor to her bleak life. On one such occasion, he had brought with him a silver edged dagger, and cut the scar into her shoulder. Because it had been inscribed by silver, her usually fast healing body would never be able to make the scar fade. Scene 6
The club came back into focus around her, but the high she could get from dancing no longer interested her. She was ready. She exited the loud, bright room and left the club. The chill, exhaust filled air that met her when she left the stuffy building refreshed her. She headed for Bradbury Park. The park was one of the few wide open areas in the city, and even included a small forested area. She knew this because she visited this particular city often. It was an especially popular place at night because of the beautiful moonlit pond that crowned its center, and the eerie celestial pathways, illuminated by exquisite little lanterns. Tonight, some of the local high schoolers were holding a raucous New Year's party.
Setiva drifted on the outskirts of the drunken crowd. She spotted Kaden leaning against a tree, wearing a long black trench coat, and looking very bored. His electric eyes lazily scanned the crowd. There was something more nervous about him tonight. He seemed uptight and jittery. 'Maybe it's just the party', Sativa thought. She strode purposefully over to him.
"Hey." He spun around, caught off guard for once. She gestured towards the energetic throng and he nodded. They danced and talked for the rest of the night, until the park was somewhat deserted. They walked deeper and deeper into the small forest. The trees leaned in like ghosts, creating a stifling environment. They entered a clearing. Setiva's highly tuned senses suddenly became more alert. 'Why didn't I notice it before?' she thought wildly. The dangerous sense of impending doom hung like a shadow over her head. She spun towards Kaden only to find herself face to face with the barrel of a silver pistol, pointed at her head. She almost laughed. He couldn't kill her! But why would he want to? A seed of doubtful fear planted itself in her mind.
"Silver bullets." His voice, suddenly laced with coldness and fury cut through her like a knife. Silver bullets, the only kind deadly enough to kill a vampire. But she unflinchingly stared at the gun, at her now inevitable death. A wave of sadness swept over her. Of all the times she had thought about death, she was surprised at the remorse she felt at losing the monotony of her vampiric life. An owl hooted in the darkness, as a shot rang clearly through the deafening silence. A flurry of flapping wings was heard as a group of sleeping sparrows took off, startled by the sound. For a moment, Setiva stood as though nothing had happened. Then she slowly faded until all that was left was a pile of silver ash, already being picked up and carried away by the cold night breeze. Far away, on a high mountain a pair of cold blue eyes opened as Telerak realized that his apprentice was dead.
A thump sounded as the now empty gun hit the mossy forest floor, closely followed by the boy who had wielded it, sinking to the ground, exhausted. Light from the rising sun filtered through the trees, as the nightingale's song signaled the start of a new day.

By: Sara Jewell