Comments

• 

  D o m i n i c September 8, 2022 at 11:01am

  The vampire's attention piqued at the name. He gathered up what little information he could when the vehicle and the demoness herself gave few hints to begin with. Going into situations blindfolded was never favorable to the man, after all.

  Once out of the car, the brisk walking pace was kept up by Agnes's shadow of a lover, following close behind her shoulder. As they approached the flight of stairs leading into the underground, he only grew quieter while his senses reached out. He took one last glance at their above ground location and followed down the steps. He heard the train's rustling before it reached the platform and peeled his eyes on what end of the tunnel it approached from.

  He then followed into the empty train car and stood beside her. His hands took his pockets and a pensive look went to Agnes. He bit the inside of his cheek loosely. "I won't rightly know until I see it," Dominic responded quietly after a moment's thought. His shoulder came to rest on one of the vertical bars. "This coworker of yours, what else can I expect?" He prompted.
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  Jett July 4, 2022 at 3:03pm

    A swift punch to his side caused the redhead to emit a small cough. Answer the question? What was the question again? Another jab to his side left him leaning forward in his seat. It appeared he was secretly getting some kind of enjoyment out of this. A sick punishment that he felt he deserved. After the third strike, the sound of spit leaving his lips could be heard from under the head covering. 

    There was silence for a moment or two longer before he spoke, "No, police lady. Why am I here?" He was given a swift answer followed by a toss from the vehicle. For the next few moments, Jett lay there on the littered asphalt. A sigh escaped his lips from underneath the bag as he rolled over onto his back, arms stretching out on both sides. This was as good of a spot as any he supposed. Minutes passed, maybe longer, he'd lost track. Eventually, he did sit up. His right hand pulled the bag from his head. Jett tossed it off to the side and shook his head to let his red strands fall back into place. Where had his sunglasses gone? Green hues scanned around on the ground before happening upon something reflecting in the streetlight. "Dammit." He gruffed, realizing his Raybans had one eyepiece shattered. Tossing them back down onto the ground where he'd once received, Jett finally pulled himself to his feet.

    A quick dusting of his clothes was necessary and a swift stretch of one arm over his head. A relaxed sigh escaped his lips before the redhead became aware of his surroundings. Hands shuffled themselves into either of his jacket's pockets. His cigarettes! They were still there. Now, this was a pleasant surprise. Pulling one of those sweet cancer sticks from their compartments, Jett lit it up with the Zippo lighter he retrieved from his other pocket. A deep drag followed by an exhale. The world was suddenly in a much better state for him. Tucking his bad habit back into his pockets, the redhead began down the road. 

    How long had he been walking? It didn't seem all that long, but who was counting anyway? Activity drew his attention off to the right. A bar? Now, this was his lucky day. Green hues swept the outside scene before deciding to enter. Did it matter? He would have gone in either way. Call it habit. The Son of Lucifer flicked his cigarette butt outside the door before ultimately taking in the vicinity. Cozy little place. Lacking a few females at the moment, but he'd get over it. Jett slid into a booth, both arms resting on the backrests. "Hypnotiq" Was the only word he spoke to a worker that had passed by. What a ghetto alcoholic beverage to order; but after all, look at where he was. 
• 

  D o m i n i c July 3, 2022 at 12:07pm

  Dominic’s footsteps wouldn’t take him any further into the apartment when the door opened, nor would Louie get his attention for the evening. He rocked back on his heels and took a couple of steps back to allow Agnes through, stopping to return the kiss before he rolled further back into the hallway. “Of course,” He answered simply. He waited patiently while the door was locked behind them and traced the sound of paw pads on the other end of the door once Louie seemingly dismissed himself. The walk to the elevator was quiet, as was their ride down. Dominic’s place in the night was observation and it had started before they would leave the bar.

  A car was waiting to Dom’s mild apprehension, bringing back the night of the Gala for the briefest of moments. His eyes darted to Agnes when she bypassed the clear option of the open door and went to the other side. Nonetheless, he followed and took a seat as he was seemingly instructed. His gaze studied the car’s interior while he waited for Agnes to make her way back around to the other door. The car tires crept to life without commentary from its interior. Agnes’ silence was met with patience from the curious vampire who turned his head when she finally did speak. 

  “I understand,” Dominic answered curtly once her words had finished and the itinerary for the night was so gruesomely set in front of them. The true details were amiss until they would reach their venue, and it was enough to spark a curiosity in Dom that he had no business in having. Curiosity killed the cat and it kept the vampire’s cold dead heart circulating every once in a blue moon. Everything from their venue to the coworker that had been mentioned. He leaned further back in his seat. “You have my best behavior.”
• 

  D R A C U L A June 30, 2022 at 9:24am

  October 18 2015
  23:41 – Fiona Mullock, at home

  Moving about without pain, without aches in joints and bones, was just one thing that Fiona used to take for granted back in the day. Because nobody had told her back then in the Van Helsing Association that for all that she’d fought for in loyal service to it, that pain was her bountiful reward at the end of all things. Agony, like somebody had flash-burned her insides with acid, as if her body was no longer a cohesive machine of blood, flesh and bone.
  She sighs, relenting to her affliction as she fumbles with the jar lid, opening and allowing two little white pills to spill lazily into her hand. She immediately chucks them into her mouth, swallowing without liquid - already, her mind is clamouring for the relief to come. She sits down, waiting for them to take effect. Her suffering is not acute, per se, more so that it never leaves unless she sleeps. And those pills are little trap doors into moments of bliss, a few hours of tranquillity.
  Once she is at peace, her torture becoming dulled by pills finally, she takes her tea and a slice of cake and watches TV, her pleasures without torment—the miracles of modern medicine and kickass painkillers.
  Finally, she can rest, and she accidentally falls asleep to the tune of some opera show. She dreams of her golden years and is near the peak, passing deeper and deeper into her dreamland where no amount of hurt can reach her. That is until she is snatched back into reality and awakens suddenly and rudely, seeing in front of her the culprit for her being awake, a faulty television. Its screen was distorted; here and there, it flashed white, and from its speakers came a strange, eerily regular hum. Like the inner song of an old fridge, but slightly off.
  She sighs and picks up the remote to turn it off, pressing the button. Nothing happens, and an even more audibly sigh presses from her lips, and she groans in annoyance when she gets up to manually turn the thing off. Off it goes, and she sits back down.
  Suddenly, she hears the machine come flickering back to life. How could this be?

  "̧̨̲̓͋́Ý̲o̡͕̖͑̒̔u̡̦̩̖̔̓͊̂͡ͅr͚̬̿̌͢͢͝͝ ̧̝̟̩͌̀͆̋͜͝c̢̬̑̍͘͜͟͡on̨̘̈́̾ḏ̨̤̀̏͞i͔͑t̪̉̿͢î̘o̡͍̭͋̀͌̆͢͜͞n̨̻͎̘͖̦̿͐͗̇̓̑ ̺͋ị͕͈͉̅͆̎̇s̲̉ ̬̚d̯͕͒̊è̪̠̕t͕̖̻̏̆͠ë̛̫͟r̮̘̍̔͝ͅḭ̹͖̳̥̋̃̽͊͡ǫ̅ṛ̮̳̞̫̗̇̑̌̌̄͐a͖̽ť͎̙͚̻͗̿̅ï̧̗̤̫͍̈̐͊͗ņ̨̺̼̗̇͌̀̍͡g̛̯̻̔,̹̺̒̐̊͟ ̘͖̻͒̊̌́͟Fĭ͈ơ̗̪̺̹̍͒͘n̢̟̹̥̿̿̿͒a ͍̥̿͋M͓̋ư̙̝̟͛̏ļ̦̘̥̀͆̄̉l͈̂o͈̲̬̽̽͘͘͢c̗̜̬̓̈́͠k͔̯̦̊̔̂́͢.̨̢̧̣̱̩̣̫̲͓̳̬̱͈̀͗͐̀̏̓̋̃͌̓̌̅̕͟͢͝͝͠"̮͚̀̓̊͐ͅͅ ̨̧̤͈͙̗̂͂̾͐͘͡The television says, the voice cold, calculating, and distorted, like a broadcast on the radio out of tune.
  Understandably, she is terrified, frozen in her seat as off the walls of her mind comes screaming the voice, almost taunting her, saying; ‘your mad, you are mad! You’ve finally up and done it, and you’ve gone off the edge - this is your final slip into the bliss of madness. The final ladder of escape.’ Yet it feels real, and she yells suddenly, feeling two strong hands pin her down from behind, as dark lanky figures suddenly converge around her, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere, as their forms flash in and out of her vision.
  Watching, she cannot help herself, and she relents to the madness that she knew this was, and she laughs at her tortured brain as it takes its final plunge, as she feels her synapses scramble, psyche crumbling like dry dirt.
  She screams and she kicks, flailing like a fish out of water, and laughing, laughing like the madwoman that she has been reduced to. All until a needle is brought to her neck, piercing the skin.
  A calmness falls over her, and she knows no more. The Doctors may now begin their work, whatever that may be.
  ___________________________________________________________

  TWO MONTHS LATER
  02:33 Arvid Solberg
  Westview Hospital, admitted and treated for multiple lacerations and physical trauma following an attack by an unknown assailant.

  It is way late, at least when considering the circumstances of why he was there, and all Arvid wanted was just to get some shuteye. Instead, he remains awake, lying confined to a fluffy hospital bed alone with his concerned mother on the line screaming at him, all while his tired eyes slowly pan across his surroundings for maybe the 22nd time in the last five excruciatingly long minutes. A gasp of air escapes his lips.
  His room is so sad, so drudgingly uneventful with its painted cream walls, not peeling or dirty, just cream. And there is no decoration anywhere to be seen save the pitiful grey curtain hanging across the window. And all over there is that slight acrid undertone of bleach hanging in the air that disagrees with his sensitive nose, and the floor is a simple dull grey. So boring, so clinical. He’d always hated hospitals, and the doctors stalking their hallways; they always gave him the creeps for some reason, so to be stuck in one for at least another week? Nuh-uh – he was not looking forward to it.
  The boy sighs, though not because of the room, or the building said room was located in, no he was tough enough to handle all that. What he couldn’t handle was his mom. He relents a deep sigh, one that even makes his injuries pang, reminding him of why he was there.
  He cuts her off mid sentence saying reassuringly, “Nej jag är okej mamma, verkligen. Ja du behöver inte oroa dig, jag har det bra här. Hade några polare som var på besök tidigare, och skulle typ nyss gått o lagt mig när du ringde. Till och med maten här är bra,”
  His mom didn't quite listen to all that. She again put forth her motherly concerns about him staying in America and vehemently insisted he is transported back home to Sweden instead. Or if not that, that she and his father book the next flight over to go and see him. He makes a noise of protest, a mix between a grunt and a sigh. “Asså nej, det behövs inte,” he again reassures her, saying there’s no need, “skulle bara kosta massor av pengar. Jag är okej, jag lovar.”
  After some more coaxing and convincing, Arvid finally gets his mum to relent, and they both end with an ‘I love you, I love you too’ moment before the poor exhausted boy allows his cell to fall out of his grasp and slide down the linen cloth, down to his left side, while his hand remains, resting against the fluffy hospital pillow. And even though he had told his mother during the call, that he was alright, and that none of the things she’d suggested was necessary, he certainly wasn’t ‘alright’, and would have wanted nothing more than for his mum and dad to be there, really. But the trip from Sweden to the US would have cost them a fortune, money they did not have, and so he had to say something, anything, to keep his parents from coming. Even a big fat lie.
  And so now he lies listening to random hospital noises, the strange beeps and the bops from nearby and faraway machinery, and to a strange man on the television, on a channel he ain’t never heard of before, talking about a subject that does not at all concern him as a foreign student. And it hits him then just how much of an alien he is in this country, and how much he misses his old friends, his old hangouts and his own language.
  He brings a tentative hand slowly over his stomach and winces in the torturous sensations that come as he prods it. Ten large gashes across made by some kind of serrated knife, now hidden behind thick bandages and expertly sewn together by trained professionals. Crazy bastard.
  “Helvete.” He swears silently to himself as he looks around the empty room. How could his day have been flipped upside down like this?
• 

  D o m i n i c June 29, 2022 at 11:00am

  The man’s expectations weren’t quite set for the evening. He had seen the wolf in the alley. He had walked through the dark corners and faces that he couldn’t pull out of her memory. He had started a body count of his own for the woman, and in some strange way, his conscience felt clean to the notion. What more could there be? There were always more bloody secrets. London had proven that much to either of them, at least for his own sake. Now it was time for some of her own. 

  He didn’t pause to talk with Spencer tonight, or any of the staff working. The knock came on the door a minute or two before the clock would hit eight. Dominic leaned against the other side, listening to the footsteps pacing to and fro, however light they were. Was she still getting ready? No, it didn’t seem like her to be as last minute. The jingling of Louie’s collar was tracked as well and a subconscious smile came to the surface. After all, not all dogs liked vampirekind, but some made exceptions. When the door would open, he stood up straight again. Street attire was chosen. Black shoes, charcoal gray pants, and a hooded jacket that was pulled down for the time being. “Good evening,” Dominic greeted.
• 

  D o m i n i c June 22, 2022 at 11:25am

  Her brow arched higher while Agnes spoke to the subject. “Now that sounds more like Jay,” Dahlia commented under her breath, studying Agnes all the while. The less she knew the better about the demon, back then. She knew it from the moment he started leaning a little too far. “It’s not my job or yours to keep any man in line, you remember that.” Her arms left the counter and the mage stood, turning her shoulders toward the back room. “I’ll see you around girlie. The next time you see Nik, tell him to get his ass in here and talk to me.”

  In the meantime, the vampire’s phone lit up. He was driving… Not all of his work took place in the office, much of it was supported by the trips he took to ensure the underlying business had new stock and revenue flowing in. Vampires ran at a different pace than humans and certainly a different time schedule at times. It was one of the dozens of factors running through Dominic’s mind since before they returned to the city. The phone was picked up moments after the message was received. 

  I’ll see you soon, love.
• 

  M ᴀ ᴍ ᴍ ᴏ ᴎ June 15, 2022 at 9:26pm

  Thanks for the add.
• 

  Virgiliu Dracula June 13, 2022 at 10:59am

  👀

  We should, y'know, ✨p l o t ✨ sometime... maybe

      🥺
  👉👈

   
• 

  Raiya June 8, 2022 at 9:17am

  
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  B E A N June 4, 2022 at 11:31am

  "QuietMailman,"

  Bean hissed from under the kitchen table, which rest awkwardly atop his back with its legs freely dangling from the floor. The accountant had work to do and the Mailman had squeaky bearings.

  He resumed his work once the canine piped down from behind the couch. Careful clawed fingertips pressed down on papers, m a n y papers in fact, yes indeed. 

  The remnants of the phone book in the junk drawer were strewn about the house. So far his afternoon's work amounted to sixty-four paper cranes in various shades of yellow, gray, and white. 

  Coupons, Bean thought. Those that paid rent on time were rewarded.

  Upon completion, another paper crane was tucked gently into the Accountant's dark fur. He had favorites, yes, he kept those. 

  (So far, not a single origami crane had touched the floor.)