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Young Blood Young Blood
A big thanks to Ben Hulme, Mrs. Lulf, and all who have encouraged me to write. Thanks, wouldn't have made it this far without you.
A sickly-sweet smell drafted through the snow endowed pine forest. With it, there was a metallic taste that stuck to the tongue like syrup or a pitcher of molasses. It mingled amidst the reek of rotting meat, polluting the small clearing where an unidentifiable carcass lay in red powder. The scarlet snow was not common water-based flakes created thousands of feet in the air, but chilled blood.
The source lay in a piled heap, mounded together in a horridly disorganized manner. Bones, flesh, dark crimson meat, and long brown human hair, all twisted and ground as if the cadaver had been chewed like a fleshy piece of gum, and spat back into the cold, unforgiving frost. Discarded and forgotten by th
Death and Her Jokes Dark sticky blood set in a pool around the cool dead body, glimmering like molten rubies. Dirt and old discarded cigarette butts floated on the thick fluid. A horrible stench radiated from the fresh corpse, filling the area with the vomit enticing stench. It was unnatural for a cadaver to stink so soon after losing life, but this wasn't a natural victim. In a sense, she was a victim at all. She was a vampire -a hunter of mortals and a spawn of evil. Killing whomever, just to feed herself. She probably had murdered more humans than any typical killer seen on the news.
Her long straight black hair enhanced the supernatural beauty of her pale skin and once-mystical golden-brown eyes. Full red lips, petite nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows, slender cheeks, and snow-white teeth combined to create the common look of every supremely average v
Moon Full of Greed Moon Full of Greed
He stared at the computer screen. A look of contempt and anger etched upon his face. It was past midnight, but he didn’t care. Night was his day; the moon, his sun. It can only be described as ironic, for the teen had more in common with the fictional characters he created. They starred in his stories, and lived during the night, not the day. They were wolves. When he could write, they would exist in amazing worlds… when he *could* write.
That night, he was incapable of producing even a sentence. The words refused to come. “God… damn you,” he moaned. His hands temporarily hid his shame. Between his fingers, the boy saw a framed drawing of Shane, a character that came to Josh in his dreams. Shane was a sexy, tough werewolf and for reasons unknown, he survived through countless stories. Josh normally killed his characters
Low, dark grey clouds hovered over a wide, short brick building. Wind shook the few trees that stood in the small green yards that lay on either side of the two doors that made up the main entrance. A long gazebo, with a tin roof, hung over the entrance, support from two brick columns held it up. On each side of the doors, four windows peered out from the building. Orange and brown leaves blew down the street, around the numerous cars parked on the curb-side of the road.
Rustling from the leaves echoed through the eerily quiet town. All life seemed to have disappeared from the streets and outside world. Nothing moved or made a sound. The silence was broken by the fall of footsteps on the concrete sidewalk. A teen, dressed in a red winter-coat, blue jeans, and a pair of gray and green Nikes, quickly ran towards the big building. This is whe
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