A story I'm starting to write:3 - Some parts (and future parts) may be triggering.

[Imamotherfudgingpirate]

I haven't got a title yet, i make the titles when I've finished writing:)
I only just started writing this >.<
This is just the opening/an intro
It'd be lovely to see what you guys think of it so far ^.^
Here it is:

The night orb crowded the dark sky taking on a tinge of golden yellow, looking much larger than usual. Tendrils of mist swirled round my feet and bit into my leg, sending shivers through my body.

Then a gust of wind stormed past, starting my hair in to a frenzy, flailing about my face. The trees were nearly torn from the ground and were leaning precariously so from the force, and I am nearly being carried away by the gusting air. My hearing was smothered by the mournful howling of the wind twisting around me. This isn’t right, this type of weather just doesn’t happen here, especially when it’s this warm in the days. Then suddenly everything died down, the mist sits at my feet calmly, I was no longer fighting to stay on the ground, my hair dropped in a mess to my shoulders, the leaves floated lightly on the pond surface and silence has returned. What just happened? The light of the moon shines upon the clearing where I stand, befuddled.

A shiver runs through my spine, but it is not of cold, but of uneasy fear. This isn’t natural. I feel as though I’m being watched. THERE! Out of the corner of my eye, my head snaps to the right and my raven black loosely curled hair slaps my face from the motion. Crouched between the two largest trees at the edge of the clearing is a girl of around five years. She moves gracefully into a standing stance, and with such fluidity of movement she steps towards me carefully, and I am completely mesmerized and filled with awe by the child. As she nears me her appearance becomes more apparent as she is washed with the white light.

She has light blonde, beautifully curly, long hair that frames her small pale face. Her face is white, not pale, completely white, drained of colour. Her lips however have a tinge of deep red - the colour of blood. She is barely 3ft tall and is dressed in ragged clothes that appear to be very dirty and covered in a massive dark stain of.. what is that? Wait, it’s blood! Shock overrides my system, my eyes dart back to her face and that’s when I saw her eyes - where the white is meant to be is pure, horrifying red, and in the centre was two large blackest black circles. In the corner of her moist lips, was a drop of blood that dribbled down her face toward her chin. My whole body went into complete shock and I was frozen into place, “Hi there miss.” she had a fluid, sweet irish accented voice that was filled with a sound of a complete innocence, so much so that for a split second my fear vanished... that was until she took another step toward me, then fear over took all my senses once again.

“WHAT ARE YOU?!” I cried, horrified.

“Not alive.. but not dead.” Was her simple reply before her canines extended before my eyes and she leaped through the air majestically toward me, I fell backward onto the cold ground, she was lain on top of me, pressing down with impossible strength, her little legs wrapped round my waist. That’s when she bit at my neck, I could feel the blood leaving my body, feel her drinking it, but it didn’t hurt - actually it filled me with immense pleasure. A groan slipped put of my mouth as my back arched, I was groping for air, both from pleasure and from knowing that these will probably be my last few breaths. That’s when the blackness folded in on me and enclosed me claustrophobically so.

This is my last memory of life, my only memory of live... well of my life as a living human anyway.

My eyes opened and I felt a tear on my cheek at the remembrance of that night. That is all I remember of my human life, I don’t remember anything else but I want to, I don’t even know what my name was.

[Ailsa]

I want to know what happens next! xx

[Imamotherfudgingpirate]

Ok, so this is the next part of my story, I have a general idea of where I'm actually going with this now so yeah:3 I'll try and update every few days (but i have exams so yeah) though I find this a good stress reliever as writing generally productively directs my negative emotions:3 So this is the next part of the story ^.^ :

(COULD BE TRIGGERING - If this is breaking any of the rules, I apologise, I did not do it purposefully :c)

Some of you may be wondering as to what I am, some of you might of already guessed. I am the daughter of Persephone and Hades - a daughter of the underworld - I am a monster. I succumb to a life of fighting myself, of solitude and I am bound to the night. No, I do not sleep in a coffin or a cupboard. Though I do live in a cupboard of sorts. Many think that when you’re a vampire you are immortal, incredibly fast, attractive and strong, bound to the night and live on blood. You are enticed by the idea of immortality, of being seduced by such an attractive being. You could not be more wrong. We are not immortal - everything MUST die eventually. We are fast and strong - though not inhumanly so. We do need blood, though very little of it. We do live in the night, though walking in the day doesn’t kill us or injure us - it just seems unnatural. We are generally attractive however when we are turned it does not make our skin flawless and pale, it does not change how we once appeared.

I have many scars running up and down my arm, though I do not remember how, when or why I received them in my human life. I often feel the urge to hurt myself, though I do not understand why. When I think back to that night, I can’t help but feel I ought to be paying attention to what my arm was doing and what I had in my hands, but every time I try to look down, I black out... As if my mind won’t let me remember.

I sigh lightly at the pondering, why couldn’t I just die that night? I try to think back to that night again, what was in my hand? It feels important. I can feel the weight in my hand, the feeling of hard plastic, a handle maybe? I sigh, it’s no good. I feel a wet trickling on my arm, feel something dripping off the end of my arm... is it related to the scars on my arm? 
 I often think that the reason I want to hurt myself so much all the time, the reason I have so many scars was because I was a self injurer. *CLICK* and suddenly something comes swimming back into my brain, a memory... I’m in the clearing, it’s before the wind has started up, the wetness is on my arm, I look down and... I didn’t black out, heat rushes into me as I realise my arm is coated in blood, and laying in my hands is a very sharp knife - also coated in blood. I shriek and go to leave go of the knife, but it doesn’t drop. Everything inside me is shrieking, screaming, panicking, yet my body remains motionless, just stares down at the blood - shaking. Then the wind picks up. I leave my memory and snap back into reality, breathing quickly and heavily.

Ok, I can see why my brain had been blocking that information out before. How could I do that to myself? Though even as I ask myself that question, I get a response instantly, “Easily.” I state out loud, and I know the answer is correct cause even as I was thinking all this I look down to see my nails digging into my arm, trying to draw blood. I let go of my arm quickly. No. No. NO! I can’t do this to myself! I punch the concrete wall. Hard. Pain sears through my arm, I gasp, but my mind clears, I calm down and all is clear. “Lets think about this logically,” I say to myself, “We all knew it was happening, why else would you have all these scars? You just didn’t want to believe it. Ok, well, it’s ok, it’s in your past, it’s in your past..” But is it in your past? I question myself. Look at you, you just tried to claw your flesh away, and then you had to punch a wall just to stop yourself from going into a fit. This entire month you’ve been trying to remember, the entire month you’ve been alive as a ‘vampire’ (at least that’s what I think I am) you’ve had constant thoughts about inflicting pain upon yourself, or you’ve woken up with dried blood on your body. Face it, it isn’t past. You’re still fighting it. I exhale deeply again. What a mess you are.