The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The sky was filled with a million tiny glittering stars as the masquerade ball began in the marble-cut mansion, hosted by the Falco family. The full moon gave off a red glow, making some of the guests squeamish with superstition. The mansion’s main doors admitted four at a time as they arrived in carriages following the driveway lined with an assortment of fully bloomed flowers. Upon the air, no breeze arose, and the candles in there holders remained stagnant and unperturbed.

A carriage with white drapes and ivory decorating the body stopped in front of the entrance to let out its passengers. When the door opened it revealed red satin lining and a girl with blue eyes that flashed mischievously in the dim lighting. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head, held by combs and a jeweled cord that wrapped around her head like a crown. The girl, who looked eighteen, smiled without showing her teeth to the footman and the servants who held the doors open for her. She entered alone with a delicate ivory mask held in her right hand close against the dark red satin dress she wore. The bodice was laced with black, looking not quite tight enough for the latest style. The driver of the carriage scratched his head, thinking that there had previously been four people in his carriage and a blonde girl had been wearing that dress. He shrugged and decided that drinking before driving was not a very good idea.

Inside, the eloquent white and black marbled floors covered the corridor that led from the doors to the ballroom, the first brightly lit room on her left. She entered, keeping the amusement she felt to herself, as she slipped the mask on her face and clasped it behind her head. Watching silently, the girl twirled a full glass of wine a servant had given her in her fingertips, not for a second fearful of dropping the glass. The guests she observed danced as if under a spell cast by the violinists, flute player, and singer weaving their song through the air.

The girl caught glimpses of the singer between the dancing people. He seemed to be about 18 and looking directly at her, across the dance floor. She had not been paying attention to the lyrics of the song but now, as she listened to the dark haired boy’s voice she discovered it was an old song from her childhood about a lady in red who was up to no good. She smiled at the boy, and tried to coyly look into her rich red wine as the song ended.

The band began to play again with barely a pause as she sensed the boy walk from his side of the large checkered room to hers. He did not noticeably rush unless he was shaking off the attempts of conversation that obstructed his path. When he was almost to her the girl set her wine glass down on a nearby table. Earlier she had noticed an open door that led out into the backyard gardens and decided to venture that way. Just like she had sensed his first initial approach she could feel him as he pursued her through the gardens. She slowed her walk when she had found a suitable flower to gaze at.

“Excuse me, my lady,” he touched her arm with a fingertip. “Oh, you’re freezing!” He exclaimed.

She smiled again, “I’m fine.” Turning her whole body to face him she curtsied, “You have a beautiful voice, my lord.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, pleased with himself. “Where is your chaperone?” He asked, looking around.

“Chaperone?” She laughed. “I came alone.”

“Alone?” He cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Shouldn’t a young lady like yourself require a chaperone?”

“I am older than I appear,” she admitted.

“My name is Veleno,” the boy announced. “What is yours?”

“Torcia, my lord Falco.”

“Do we know each other?” Veleno asked while removing his mask decorated in dark brown falcon feathers. His surprise that she knew his last name was apparent on his face.

“Not yet,” Torcia smiled, letting her fanged teeth glisten in the moonlight as Veleno looked back at his parents’ house where the music had just grown louder

A million gallons of crisp white water spewed down the crumbly rocks in front of a bridge full of people. Perfect shades of green covered the tress and bushes. The roaring of the waterfall deafened the ears to any other noise. Onlookers breathed in the icy vapors… Most of the people were looking away though… bastards.

Waterfalls are considered to be one of the most beautiful things that nature has given us. They are also considered by some to be very romantic.

Myself? If I saw someone propose to their significant other on that bridge in front of the waterfall, I’d throw them off. If the significant loved that person then they’d jump off too. Which would just mean two less people in the world… plus their offspring. So everything would work out fine.

(Still beginning.)

CaSara flopped down on the cushy cream-colored loveseat with an exhausted sigh. Babysitting a five year old for the last seven hours had zapped her of all energy. She stretched her arm across the mahogany coffee table for the television remote control. Before her pooped index finger could press the power button, she heard a baby start to cry, and then howl for companionship. The sound startled her; first of all because the child she was babysitting was five, therefore too old to cry like that, and asleep upstairs. Secondly, it sounded as if the baby was sitting outside, on the Smith’s doorstep. Worried for the baby, CaSara jumped up, fatigue forgotten, and ran to the door.

The five-year-old, Jensen, beat her to the door; he stood in front of it like a metal chain binding the door shut. With his left hand he locked the door while still facing her, his eyes wide. “You can’t go out there!”

“Why not, Jensen? There’s a baby crying,” CaSara tried to pull him off the door.

He pushed her back. “No, there’s a killer on the loose!”

CaSara shook her head, knowing how Jensen’s imagination inflated given the opportunity. He was a good kid, and did what she asked most of the time, but every once in a while she would have to rethink his remarks, especially when it came to life threatening events.

“No, really. It was on the radio when I woke up today,” his eyes were large and pleading. The babysitter thought that if this were a joke then he would soon tell her because she had never seen his eyes that round or glistening.

“How would a killer use a baby?” She asked beginning to believe the boy.

“It’s not a baby. It’s a recording. He uses the recording of a baby to lure out his victims, who likes kids; like a babysitter or a mom,” he explained.

“Alright,” she threw up her hands in resignation. “Come watch some TV with me until your parents get home then.”

Within the first half hour of watching TV, the two heard a car pull up. Jensen automatically announced it to be his parents. When his parents came into the house, Mrs. Smith kissed her son on the forehead and asked if he had been good for his babysitter. CaSara said he had. Mr. Smith came in, took off his red scarf, and held up a tape player quizzically. The buttons were stained in a metallic red, and wet.

“What’s this?” Mr. Smith asked as he pressed the play button; the baby’s wailing started up again.

Mrs. Smith gasped, “John, I told you that I had heard on the news that there was a murderer loose. And that he lures his victims with a baby crying on a tape recorder!” she told her husband, accusingly. “I knew we shouldn’t have gone out.”

CaSara explained that their little boy probably had saved her life. The Smiths paid her an extra twenty dollars for the trauma, and asked if she would rather stay the night. CaSara called her parents, accepted the Smith’s offer and was given the guest bedroom to sleep in. That night none of the four slept more than three hours in all and when they did sleep they awoke in a cold sweat of fear.

CaSara awoke in one of those frightened cold sweats, and looking at her coca-cola watch, found that it was 3:36 am. She rubbed her brown eyes sleepily, and took a shaky breath. Her heart leapt violently as a wail crept through the cracks under the door. Someone had pressed the play button on the tape recorder again; the sound did not stop.

CaSara, feeling courageous behind locked doors, tiptoed to the closed guest bedroom door. Little by little, she turned the knob. The baby’s cries ceased. The girl opened the door painfully slow.

Dark was the hallway with blue light streaming in through the cobalt shades covering the two windows. White walls reflected every light that filtered through the windows. A darker shadow crawled along the walls and its owner followed it around the hallway’s corner toward CaSara.

Her heart threatened to choke her, as it jumped up her throat, in dread of the shadow. She breathed a sigh of relief as the shadow’s owner stepped into the light. “Jensen, you scared me. Did you hear the baby again?” Her whisper was hoarse with unforgotten fright. Jensen nodded and motioned her around the corner. She followed the little boy, feeling darkly apprehensive. There, on the off-white carpet, lay a red mess under a knife and a bloody tape recorder.

“What-?” CaSara’s throat closed with concern as Jensen bent down and picked up the knife, along with the tape recorder. Straightening his small frame, the boy lifted his chin slowly and locked her brown eyes with his pale blue. His face blazed with maniacal intentions and his small teeth flashed in the blue shadows with a joyous smile. A small finger pressed the play button and turned up the baby howling’s volume to drown out his babysitter’s screams.