Wolvern ~posted for wolven~
01:34 Dec 09 2006
Times Read: 556
I wrote this story a year ago based on a real eye-witness account from 1998 (even though the story takes place a year later). I tweaked the account in to this twisted story in order to ace my writing project, but later I developed it into the following piece. ENJOY.
There is a creature lurking in the night. This creature is unknown to man. It walks upright on two legs and is covered in dense black fur. It has a human's body and a wolf's head and tail. It has the sharpest teeth and long claws grow out of it's human fingers and toes. These features of the beast alone could cause fear to cool the blood of the strongest man. But the most terrifying thing about the creature is it's eyes. It's deep and bright crimson red eyes that Peirce through the night like a hot knife through human flesh.
Few have seen this creature and out of those who have only one has survived. His name is Jonah Rutmorse. Oh yes, the famed Mr.Rutmorse. The very man who dubbed the creature with the pleasant title of "Wolvern". The story that I am about to tell you is not for the faint of heart. The story I am about to tell you is not fictional in any way. The story I am about to tell, is the story of how the Wolvern came to be...
Late Autumn, 1999
Jonah Rutmorse and Mark Krawdel are chatting away in the rickety pick-up as they drive back to their cabin after a long days hunt. It's buck season and Mark and Jonah have been hunting all day. The warm fall sun is slowly setting in the sky and a refreshing breeze is blowing through the rolled down truck windows. "... and you see, that's how you get the big game." Jonah said as he finished up his favorite hunting story. Jonah was like that. Always telling a story. Mark shook his head as he replied "Jonah there wasn't a word in that story that wasn't stretched of the truth." Mark Krawdel is a simple down to earth kind of guy. He likes to keep everything plain and short, unlike Jonah who likes to over-exaggerate and drag things out. The beat up car hopped over potholes in the highway as it turned onto a back road. The two men continued to tell each other stories and debate over who the better hunter was.
About an hour later, after the sun set, Jonah pulled the old pick-up into the long driveway to the cabin. The night was innocent and the sounds of crickets and cicadas drifted in the air. The skies were clear and the stars were winking away. All was peaceful near the cozy hunting cabin, or so it seemed. Meanwhile, in the surrounding woods there was a disturbance. Eerie burning red eyes watched out of the brush as the rusting truck moved up the drive. Mark and Jonah had no idea that this was. The only thing the hunters were concerned about was their trophy bucks. In the pick-up Jonah and Mark finished the ever flowing conversation and parked the truck in front of the cabin. The cabin was lovely and seemed to glow under the crescent moon. It was built of cedar and had two floors, ten rooms, running water, and a fridge that kept beer at a perfect temperature.
Jonah and Mark were looking forward to those cold beers as they got out of the truck. Crickets continued to chirp away, but in the forest the eyes moved closer toward the cabin and farther out of the thicket. Mark laughed as he grabbed the keys to the cabin door and walked with Jonah up the stairs and onto the front porch. He put the keys into the lock and "click", the door unlocked. Eyes moved closer to the cabin, Mark turned the doorknob, Jonah waited to get inside, and then as if the planet stopped spinning; all of the crickets grew silent. Not a single chirp was to be heard. Mark turned around to look at Jonah and Jonah looked at Mark, like they were asking each other the same question.
Why are the crickets so quiet? The answer would come sooner then they'd think. That very moment an unnatural cry filled the air. It sounded like a cat's scream and a woman's cry mixed together to form one very ominous noise that could strip flesh pure from bone. At the other end of the porch red eyes burst open and a dark figure jumped out of the night and landed on all fours on the porch. Mark's eyes widened to the max as he screamed "Wolf run!", but poor Mark was cut off early. A dark hand shot out of the darkness and a razor sharp claw slit his throat. Mark stumbled back and gasped for breath, but the blood quickly flowed out of his artery and down his jacket. He swayed for a second before he fell like a rag doll onto the floor of the deck. Blood painted the wood dark red as a body lay cold and dead. The creature leaped over to the unmoving mass and snapped Mark's neck, making sure he was gone. Swiftly, crimson eyes glanced up to find their next victim. Jonah somehow had overcome his pure terror and escaped to the pick-up. The creature watched Jonah get into the vehicle before it stood up straight on two legs and ran for it's escaping prey.
Upon seeing this Jonah put the pick up into high gear and drove away. Somewhere down the road the thing stopped following him and dispersed into the woods. The police in the nearest town ridiculed Jonah's story until they realized how much terror he held in his eyes. When they got to the cabin they found no body, but a great amount of blood. Drops of the same blood were found leading away from the cabin and into the woods. Whatever the animal was, it had enough strength to lift it's victim onto it's shoulders and carry him off into the forest. A full search was put out, but the body of Mark Krawdel was never found.
Jonah was fortunate enough to live to tell such a tale. No one believed him at first, but more eye witness reports of the creature came in, and Jonah became the first person to see it up close. And he never wants to again. Whether those who told the story believed it or not, it still carried on. After awhile Mark's last words, "Wolf run", became known as Wolvern. The Wolvern lives on and so does Mr. Rutmorse. Right now Jonah is 100 years old, but he's still willing to tell his story.
Now when you go out at night, be careful and don't mock this story. It could happen to you and it leaves you asking yourself, "Am I next?"
THIS STORY IS COPYRIGHTED BY SAMMARIA. IF YOU WANT TO REPOST IT SOMEWHERE UNDER MY NAME, GET MY PERMISSION.
A Vampire Discovered02:02 Dec 04 2006
Times Read: 560
I'm a vampire. One in a family of three. My Dad and Mother are all that's left of my ancestry. I was born a full breed vampire. Legend says we can fly, though we don't. Full bloods as I have the power to jump improbable heights. That's only because we possess an inhuman strength. It's a very dark night, even though the moon is full. My family and I live in an abandon house outside of the city.
The windows have no glass and are totally boarded up. The perfect place to hide three coffins. Tonight I sneak out of the house to feed. They say I'm too young to go alone. I don't mind. If I was human, I'd be 120 years old. As a vampire, I'm 17. I swoop down out of the house. I try to fly, but can only jump. I wish I actually could turn into a bat, but I'm not a fairytale. I jump across the street and then into a tree on the other side of nearby a creek.
I can see a house across the narrow stream. I jump towards it. I hope to find someone sleeping inside. I do. The floor of the house looks old and dusty. There's a man upstairs sleeping on an old sofa. He sits in front of a turned on tv. Black and white movies are playing on the screen. I climb up the side of the house wall and quickly and quietly open a window. I jump into the room and land silently on my feet. I use an herb my mother gave me to put the man into a deep trance. I just lightly puncture his neck.
I drink a small amount of blood and use another herb to seal the wound. I don't need to totally drain this one. I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I run to the window, close it and cling to the outside of the house. A woman appears with popcorn and the man looks like he's just sleeping. It would appear that nothing happened. Now, I decide to explore the residence of the city. I'm sitting on a roof within the city now. It’s been three hours since I’ve left my home. The night is disturbingly calm. I feel as if I should leave and visit an old friend.
Suddenly I'm standing on the porch of another wooden, creaky, and abandon house. This house is not my own. I'm calling out a name of a fellow vampire. The name is familiar to me. I believe it to be Vorcten. Ancient name. A vampire appears out of nowhere. He must be 400 years older than I for he has the power of amazing speed. We call this flitting. I start to talk to him, I tell him secrets, and it seems rather routine. He nods his head, but he doesn't speak. I hear laughter down the street. Humans must be coming. I decide to leave, and fast. I jump quickly from roof to roof taking a faster route home.
I'm at my home. I'm staring out one of the second floor windows. In the front of my house there's an odd truck parked in the unweeded lawn. I don't recognize it at all. I inform my family and in an instant we are all on the roof. We stare down at the truck. I might have explored it, but I don't remember anything after. I believe I was seen in the city.
Nightmare-Reality01:43 Dec 04 2006
Times Read: 561
It's raining. Kids are playing baseball.
The ball hits the bat and echos through the stands.
Feet hit the wet ground.
Then as if someone hit pause, everyone and everything froze.
Fans and players stare at the sky. The clouds are turning red.
Suddenly it rains blood.
Players run for dugouts.
Fans scream.
There is a rumble from deep within the earth.
The ground in the middle of the feild starts to part.
Out of the trench shoots flames and a shadowy figure streaches up out of the heat.
A long smoke-black hand materializes in front of a player resembling me.
Bony fingers wrap around her.
The shadow falls back into the depths from whence it came, holding her in it's clutches.
The trench closes, the blood stops falling, the clouds break away.
It gently sprinkles water and the sun shines, causing a rainbow to form in the once red sky.
I awake.
A nightmare?
I look around.
I'm surrounded by demonic flames, that dance quickly around the thorn chair I sit on.
I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
My soul is forever trapped in the darkness of hell.
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