Featured: Claiming Mine
Poetry and Prose
Blood runs down the neck,
neck taste as smooth wine.
Friends become lovers,
lovers become food.
Night turns to day,
day becomes dead.
Death is rebirth,
rebirth is undead.
Mature contentI want to bite you EatingMyOwnFears 17 49
What Will Never Be
What Will Never Be
Thull snorts dramatically so that I may be aware of his discomfort.He repeats himself and stamps his hoof in the ground,digging into the frozen dirt to emphasize his restlessness.
Laughing, I lean forward,and search for that spot behind his left ear that calms him when the need presents itself.
As war horses go,he is a bit smaller than most, yet more thickly muscled. Still,there is no other that I would ride into any a melee with,as his eagerness in battle and his sure surefootedness has saved me countless times.
He seems to have a natural pose in heated conflict. A battlefield instinct as it were. He yearns to be on the field of honor,to wade into the melee in a berserker's fury, he finds the very center of battle,longing to be in the midst of the fray, as is the place where we are at our best.
All this to explain why,for one not skittish of anything,he is in a constant state of readiness,on his guard,darting his head this way and that at the slightest noise, or to
The hall is crowded but I see only what is mine.
Even from the other side of the room I can see the passion burning in your soul as your fight for control of your body. I ponder briefly if anyone else sees the wild battle behind your alluring eyes but I dismiss it.
It matters not what they think.
Honestly, I could care less.
I cross the floor; purposeful long steps taken as I make a straight line for you.
The people, moving in undulating rhythm to the loud music, part without consideration of their actions.
Parting for the hunter.
I can see both the fear and the longing struggle on your face as you note the predator like grin taking shape on mine.
That is what you are.
The DJ selects a hard song about wronged love and inner pain.
When I am close enough to see the pulse in your neck, I can see it thrumming in tune with the beat of the intense music.
I like it.
Anger boils up from inside you and I nod in approval.
It is a better emotion to deal with than fear
Duty Above All
Duty Above All
Watching the last one fall seemed to bring her back to reality. As if this all just took place in a slow motion dreamscape. One from which she was all too happy to awaken from, alive. It was then she realized she had her arms around Andre.Looking over his shoulder,one arm out stretched, the other tightly around Andre's waist. Left hand in a death grip on his shirt.
Trembling,holding one another to keep themselves from falling,Beth surveyed the scene over Andre's shoulder.
The smoke from the barrel of her father's hand canon assaulting her nose,acidic and burning as the level of destruction that she saw reached the part of her brain that told her it was all over.
Ok, so,now what?
From his point of view,Andre was able to survey all he needed to. And the little boy grin was fitting for his expression, as he was making bloody hand prints on Beth's white pants, overlaying his hand prints to make it look as if she entertained mul
Mature contentvampires of the vacant Lot part 1 Zecon 5 1
Mature contentVampires of the vacant lot part 2 Zecon 6 0
Mature contentVampires of the Vacant lot 3 Zecon 7 1
Mature contentVampires of the vacant lot 4 Zecon 4 0
In my Hemoglobin Cafe
This morning I was wondering...
I was wondering if a vampire can drink chai or coffee?
Would they have a blood chai?
A plasma mocha?
A clot of espresso?
O positive frappe?
Would they like their chocolate white or red?
A side of scone or a fresh bloodied bone?
In a cup of fine china or straight from the vein?
Choices choices in my Hemoglobin Cafe.
my own retribution.
the promise of my own retribution.
His whimper touches the stone that was once my heart.
The innocence upon his face wrenches forth tears from my formerly unyielding eyes.
His freely-given form teases my senses, and I shudder.
He was supposed to have the loveliest memory of his death,
the two of us rapt in only the concerns of a bonded pair before I bring him into my eternalness.
It was the perfect intention.
But nothing is perfect.
Not even me.
His purity sets fire to my hunger,
engaging a normally regulated appetite into an unanticipated overdrive.
It is like Christmas morning so many years ago
and all the presents are for only me.
I find myself suddenly with the control of an excited 3 year old,
ripping at the delicate paper, being emptied of both remorse and consideration.
Fingers entwine around silken threads of ribbon and I yank hard,
drinking from the gift of sweetest candy.
It is only as my eyes rise in exhilaration the truth is harshly confronted.
Where trust had resigned, now
Mature contentFalse Love EatingMyOwnFears 9 74
200 years ago, I killed a man.
I ripped his heart from his chest and ate it.
He was the one whom had broken my heart so I took his.
After all, fair was fair right?
I had given him everything.
My love, my money, my innocence.
He took it all then chose another.
It was not until afterwards,
after I burned his body and buried my blood soaked clothes,
I learned he was not a man.
He was something more. And less.
200 years ago, I went mad.
The first 50 years I danced with lunacy brought by my lover's gift.
After 50 more I regained my sanity though I am sure many will argue.
It took 50 years after that for me to take my place in society.
Only in the last 50 or so have I grown to fully understand what that is.
I had unintentionally joined a brotherhood that held few sisters but now held one more.
200 years ago I inadvertently gave up my life.
I have a heart but it can never love.
Just as he did but could not.
I understand now but at a terrible price
When I ate his heart, he ate my soul
A chance encounter
Just a quick little thing I did for a friend.
Tue Feb 1, 2011, 9:29 PM
John E. Elmore
Wave upon wave of the undead fell upon me. God I hate vampires. Snarling and snorting, I destroyed any that came too close, the dying a warning to those who still had all their body parts intact. My rage knew no bounds, equaled only by the ecstasy of killing. With screams of blasphemy and pain they came to their end. The ruined bodies of the undead were littered at my feet, and as I spat out the putrid flesh of the last of them, I roared at the mother moon, and gave thanks for her purifying light in this nightmarish land. Surveying my surroundings and sniffing the air, it seemed that the danger had passed, I was soon proven to be very mistaken. Without warning, a massive blow to the back of my neck sent me to the ground! Twisting around, I managed to land facing up, and I
In the beginning, it was different.
I was different.
I was alone. At peace with my naivety in the dark. Alone with just me and my dreams. It was where I wanted to be.
Then you came.
Uninvited you came, invading my space and my dreams with blood and lust. You took my privacy, my life as it were, and warped it to a twisted affair.
I was terrified.
I could feel nothing but the icy chill of your breath.
I could smell nothing but copper and roses.
I could taste nothing but the fear on my own tongue.
Above it all, I could hear nothing but the pounding of my own heart.
Until it changed.
At your want, with just the lightest urging of your will, the cadence changed.
The rapid throbbing became your music and my breathing its tempo.
Like a symphony of blood, it beat out your thrill and heightened your anticipation. Drawing you closer to the complete seduction
Blood Stained Black
Fresh blood stained black sheets.
The day my life ended.
The day it began.
Years later, with the proof of my becoming still upon my neck,
you tenderly pet my hair as I kneel every night at your feet.
Affection fills my cold dark heart
but that doesnt change the fact
I was not the first to be
blood stains on your smooth black sheets.
Despite your sweet lies, I also know I was not the last.
Not Her Will
To whomever it may concern, I hope you understand, as I try to put words to worth,
I have forgotten the name of my birth, but the name of my earth is Loving; she calls me Hers.
It was a thousand years ago or perhaps only 3.
I can barely write this out, for she is all of no
No, I must gain control, must organize my thoughts.
If this is my last will and testimony it must be my will that is caught.
We have fought this war for what seems forever,
between us and them,
and while I have done nothing but fulfilled all she ever asked, I fear this is our last.
So I write this will.
Her will. My will. His will. I knew a boy named Will once. I brought him to my mistress and she fed from him.
The betrayal in his eyes was more painful than watching her take her whim. But then, back then, way back when, or was it yesterday? I was an innocent, sheltered beneath her wings, and could not understand how he would not want this