untitled, unfinished - woe is me
Apr. 13th, 2008 09:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolfI started this sometime late last year--October, maybe. I know the basic backstory what happened, where most of the major key players are. However, I don't know where to go from here. Any ideas?
He wakes and has never been so hungry. He hears heartbeats not too far off and forces himself to his feet, staggers in that direction. He’s famished, starving, and it doesn’t matter what he eats, so long as he eats something.
The heartbeats are locked in a cage, whimpering and begging. He rips the door away and grabs the nearest, latching his teeth onto the heartbeat’s throat, tearing the skin and gulping down blood.
The heartbeat stutters, stops, and he is nowhere near sated, so he lunges to another.
Thought returns. He knows they are humans, not heartbeats. He knows eating them, drinking them, killing them is wrong.
But he is so hungry. He lets the second fall and goes for a third, a fourth, a fifth. They scream and plead and hit him with fists and run from him, but there is nowhere to go. By the tenth he is full, becoming tired. There is one human left, staring at the bodies in mute horror. She is a child, no more than twelve, long blonde hair and deep green eyes. He shuts her in the cage, chaining the door. Big, fat tears roll down her cheeks and she keens, “Mama,” stretching one of her hands toward his first meal, a blonde woman with a gaping throat.
He leaves, listening for noise, sniffing out others. There are remains of his kind in the far west room, half a dozen. Their heads are tossed in the corner.
He is tired, so he returns to the first room and curls on the floor, sleeps.
He wakes again to muffled sobs, still full. He stands and walks back to the cage, stares at the crying girl. She realizes he’s there and stiffens, looking up at him with palpable fear.
“What’s your name?” he asks, kneeling down. He remembers that humans have names, but he can’t recall what his was, in that time before hunger.
“Nic-Nicole,” she whispers, voice tiny and filled with fear.
He smiles at her, fangs still stained with her companions’ blood, and she shrinks back.
“Nicole,” he says, tasting the sound of her name. “How long have you been here?”
“Three da-days,” she answers, voice gaining a small bit of strength.
He licks his lips, nodding, trying to think back. “What year is this?”
She stares at him. “2020.”
“2020,” he repeats. “Interesting.”
He leaves her there and walks to the door. He knows what he is, and he remembers that sunlight is supposed to hurt him, so he decides to experiment. The sun is high in the sky—it’s almost noon, he knows. He stretches his hand into the light: nothing. No burning, no discomfort.
“Interesting,” he says again, softly.
He returns to Nicole, feeling the faint stirrings of hunger in his gullet. He watches her for half an hour, smelling her blood, hearing her pulse race.
“Do you know what happened?” he asks.
She jumps, gasping, and shakes her head. “I woke up here,” she replies, gaining a little courage. “Last thing I remember, me and Mo—” Her voice breaks, but she perseveres on. “Me and Mom were goin’ into a bathroom at a gas station.”
He nods, thinking. “What state?”
“Um…” She closes her eyes. “I think we’d just crossed the Montana state line.” She looks at him. “What are you goin’ do with me?”
He’s hungry, but he tells her, “Thank you, Nicole,” and leaves the room.
He’s knows he’s a vampire, and he wants to eat her heartbeat. But he may need her in the future, so he needs to find other prey before he loses control.
But a memory comes to him unbidden: humans carry identification. He needs to search the building, to look for a wallet. He may find out who he is, why he was the only survivor of the massacre that killed all his kind.
First, though, he must hunt, so nothing untoward happens to Nicole.
He steps out of the house into the sunlight and preens beneath the heat, sighing at how good it feels. He stretches, popping his back, and realizes what a mess he is. He’ll need to bathe before he comes back, wash of the scent of blood and death off him. Nicole needs food, too. And he’ll have to clean the cage of bodies.
He runs, listening for heartbeats, smelling for life. All creatures flee before him and he finally catches a young doe, latching onto her neck like he did Nicole’s mother. The doe fills him and he hears something bleating. He turns: there is a baby deer, a fawn, staring at him with what seems to be reproach in its large eyes.
He stares back, determining what to do. He could kill it. Or eat it. Or leave it, though that would surely kill it, too.
Or he could bring it back to the house, give it to Nicole. Maybe having something to care for will make the girl feel better. Yes, he decides, that’s the best option.
He springs for the fawn, lifting it easily. The deer fights, kicking, but his grip is strong. He hurries back to the house and deposits the fawn in the cage with Nicole.
It panics even more at the smell of blood; while Nicole tries to calm it down, he removes all the bodies, dropping them in a pile with the remains in the west room. He’ll bury them later, after he’s gotten food for Nicole. He decides that’s when he’ll search for ID, too.
He leaves again, trying to remember what humans eat, what a little girl might like—cake? Bacon? The thought disgusts him, but he knows humans can’t eat heartbeats like he does.
The house is in the middle of nowhere; he focuses his hearing, listening for humans—there. On the edge, to the east, a group of people. Food for him, possibly food for Nicole.
And the fawn. Damn. What do deer eat, grass?
He’ll need to convince Nicole not to leave if he lets her out of the cage. He’ll worry about that later, probably before burning the bodies.
For some reason, he wants to burn them, pour salt on the ashes. Odd.
Did he have this much to worry about before the hunger?
He sets off to the east, a steady trot. Instead of weakening him, the sun fills him with strength—does that means he’s not a vampire? He doesn’t know. He’ll worry about that later, too.
It’s dusk by the time he finds the campers and hunger is just settling in his belly. Heartbeats are lasting less and less—that’s got to mean something. If he could remember before, it probably would.
The campers are around a fire, laughing and talking; he sneaks in close and senses the dog at his back before she howls. He whirls around, meeting the Doberman’s dark eyes.
“Hush,” he whispers, stretching out a hand. She sniffs his fingers, undocked tail going between her legs, and then sinks to the ground, rolling over. He kneels and runs a hand along her belly. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Such a good girl.”
“Devon!” one of the campers calls. “Come here!”
The Doberman looks up at him. “Go on,” he says, and she rolls to her feet, hurrying to the man.
The dog gives no hint that a predator lurks in the darkness. He doesn’t know if it’s because she fears him or knows him to be superior, nor does he care.
He watches the humans—four men, three women, the eldest around sixty, the youngest twenty—prepare for bed. Devon is given the command to guard by the same man, called Charlie, and sinks down outside his tent.
He wonders if Devon will follow him back to the house. Nicole might like a dog.
A few hours after sunset, when hunger is gnawing at him, he makes his move. He doesn’t want the old woman: she’ll probably taste worn and tough. The youngest woman would be good company for Nicole, most likely. He won’t be able to transport everyone…
The van on the edge of camp catches his eye. He could move everyone to it, drive it back—assuming he knows how to drive. Does he?
He goes to the main tent first. Charlie and the middle woman are in it; he grabs them both by the neck and carries them to the van, setting the woman on the ground so he can force the door open. Charlie wakes kicking, and he slams the man’s head against the side of the van. Charlie’s woman—wife, by the ring on her finger—wakes and stares at him, sucking in a breath to scream. He grips her neck, cutting off her air, and holds until she passes out.
He goes to the main tent first. Charlie and the middle woman are in it; he grabs them both by the neck and carries them to the van, setting the woman on the ground so he can force the door open. Charlie wakes kicking, and he slams the man’s head against the side of the van. Charlie’s woman—wife, by the ring on her finger—wakes and stares at him, sucking in a breath to scream. He grips her neck, cutting off her air, and holds until she passes out.
He trots to the second tent, with three men inside. The hunger is turning sharp, so he chooses the strongest of them and bites down on his neck; the man gasps but doesn’t wake. His friends—brothers?—notice nothing until he grabs them, hurrying to the van; they struggle but have no hope of winning.
Devon appears at his side, silent and still. One of the men yells, “Devon, attack!”
The dog flicks an ear and settles into the dirt.
“Devon!” the man yells again, and he snaps his neck. The other immediately ceases struggling and he tosses him in the van.
All that’s left are the two women, the youngest and oldest. Both could prove useful, so he doesn’t want to hurt them. He decides to get the older first, in case the younger puts up a fight.
When he finally has everyone in, he holds open the door and the dog joins them. He turns to face his captives and asks, “What’re your names?”
Of the remaining five, two are unconscious: the middle-aged couple.
The old woman speaks. “I am Katerina.” She gestures to the unconscious woman. “My daughter Angell, her husband Charlie.” She nods to the youngest. “My granddaughter Christine.” Lastly, she gestures to the terrified man. “My son Daniel. The two left behind were Daniel’s friends.”
The old woman speaks. “I am Katerina.” She gestures to the unconscious woman. “My daughter Angell, her husband Charlie.” She nods to the youngest. “My granddaughter Christine.” Lastly, she gestures to the terrified man. “My son Daniel. The two left behind were Daniel’s friends.”
Katerina’s gaze sharpens. “Now, who the fuck are you?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know my name,” he tells her, starting the van.
His captives are silent all the way back to the house. Angell wakes before Charlie does, but her mother keeps her calm.
Before he lets them out of the van, he says, “There is nowhere to run. I’ll catch you before your second step.”
They believe him.
He puts the women in with Nicole and the deer, tells the men to pile the bodies out back. While they do, he searches for ID, combing the house one room at a time. He finds a wallet that contains a driver’s license—the picture matches his face, but the name is unfamiliar: George Strait. The year, too, is wrong: 2005. It’ll do, though.
Charlie and Daniel finish. He goes outside to light the pile on fire with matches he found in the kitchen.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 04:13 pm (UTC)I really liked the parallelism between Nicole and the fawn; how Dean killed both their mothers but then, in some unrecognized fit or remorse (maybe a subconscious need for redemption?) he takes care of them as best he can and seeks out surrogate caretakers for them (which also serve as alternative food sources for him, so in a way that's another form of protection for Nicole).
So obviously there needs to be a confrontation (or at least an interaction) between vampire!Dean and hunter!Sam (unless Sam is dead or turned or otherwise unavailable; without knowing more of the backstory I really couldn't say) or another hunter. Or is Dean even a vampire, or a more sophisticated hybrid form or something? You could explore that. Or, if you're really strapped for ideas you could maybe jumpstart the storyline by fiddling around with the story elements until something gives you an idea of the direction it should go--change it into a crossover or experiment with the POV (maybe alternating POVs?) or tense or story structure (non-chronological order? flashbacks?).
In any case, Dean won't be able to sustain himself on those people for long, and I don't think he'd want to resort to killing Nicole after all the care he's taken so far not to hurt her, so in a day or a few days he's going to have to seek out more food sources. Hell, Dean's all about family and I think even now he's seeking out connections, belonging, care--maybe he'll become more attached to Nicole and other people he seeks out as food and eventually turn them. He'd have his own pack; his own family.
But if he stays too long in that area, people are going to start noticing the disappearances, so he'll have to leave and stay mobile in order to avoid detection, like normal vampires do. Eventually a hunter's going to figure out what's happening and start hunting Dean (if it's Sam that would be really interesting, and there'd be the added dynamic that Sam wouldn't want to kill Dean, might even try to turn him back if he's desperate). You could then use that cat-and-mouse element to propel the story forward to its climax.
Anyway, those are just some ideas you can play around with. Good job!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 11:36 pm (UTC)Hmm... some interesting ideas there.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 04:14 pm (UTC)Unfortunately, I have no idea where you should go from here.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 11:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 04:22 pm (UTC)I think there needs to be more about the house and the location.
He finds a wallet with a picture that matches his face. How does he know, has he looked in a mirror (how did that make him feel?) or does he remember what he looks like?
I think you have some good things in here, the little girl particularly has already given him a little of his humanity back and it will be nice to see how that progresses, and if it's just the little girl that he tolerates.
Is his goal to find out how he got there, what happened in his missing years?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 11:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 04:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-13 11:38 pm (UTC)