Here it is - early! Now I have to decide what to share next...
First Feeding
“Keeley? “ Miranda grabbed his arm, clinging in a desperate attempt to keep from collapsing as the wave of hunger – of need – tore through her being. “It hurts,” she whispered, choking as another stab of pain hit. “I’m so hungry.”
“Go. Feed.” Keeley gave Miranda a gentle nudge down the darkened alley. Stumbling forward several feet before collapsing near a dumpster, hunger ate away at her like acid on precious metal, her throat and mouth as dry as the rustling fall oak leaves.
Shuffling sounds signaled someone approaching from the far end of the alleyway. A vagrant. Maybe a drunken college student. Fear bubbled up inside to mingle and churn with the hunger already tearing away at her. Then Keeley’s words echoed in Miranda’s head: The only thing in this alley more dangerous than you is me. Calming somewhat, she huddled into herself, too weak from pain and hunger to do more.
The stranger continued approaching. Miranda could smell him now. Knew him to be a drunken vagrant by his smell. What’s more, she could feel him, sense his breathing, feel his heartbeat, as he advanced upon her. Smell the lust beneath his curiosity.
“You ok, girl? Do you need some help?” His questions dancingly grated upon her nerves, distracting from the delicious sound of the living blood pulsing through his veins. Her insides wrenched into a tortured knot, forcing a cry from her parched lips.
The stranger reached out, gently brushing the hair back from the side of her face. “Let’s git somewhere warmer…” Maybe warm each other a bit. She saw the unfinished thought play across his face, nearly as obvious as the spoken word. Inside, Miranda struggled with her emotions. Her hunger. Her rapidly departing humanity.
She looked up then, into his rich brown eyes. “No., she gasped, eyes resting finally upon his throat, almost in a caress. “I need…you.” Her arms came up to encircle him, parody of a lovers’ embrace as the vagrant chuckled over his unexpected fortune. Suddenly, Miranda’s sharp teeth pierced flesh, at first missing their mark. She held him firmly during the shocked struggle, hunger making her strong. Finally….the vein.
Like good hard liquor, his blood burned her throat and belly, spreading to warm her veins. Slowly the pain eased away, replaced by a languid fullness underscored with pleasure matched only by Keeley’s embrace.
Miranda drank until her belly was full and the fire from his lifeblood filled her veins. Then Keeley was there, pulling her back from the fading beat that had recently pounded so loudly. His arm about her shoulders, pulling her close, the two of them walked off in the night.
For the moment, she was content.
Copyright, Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, Jan. 2005
Showing posts with label Miranda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miranda. Show all posts
Friday, August 28, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Friday Fiction: Miranda's Choice
We're back from our visit with my grandmother, and no internet. The no internet part is actually pretty refreshing.
Here's the next Miranda Snapshot, as promised. Please, keep reading through next week, as I think the first and fourth installments are the best. And then, a ghost story, or perhaps something else supernatural...
Miranda’s Choice
Miranda slid into sleep, heartbeat exploding in her ears and echoing in her mind. Thump-thump, thump-thump; the only sound she heard. Leaden limbs drew farther down still, deep into the velvety comforting abyss. So this is what it’s like, she thought. The comfort of death’s embrace. First brief pain, then the mellow darkness. I should have done this long ago. Might have spared myself more grief.
An unnoticed gasp escaped her parted lips. The dark man - stranger no more - shifted position slightly, the better to support her. She was aware of this. She was also aware too of the slight pricking at her neck; the result of his movement. It all became more inconsequential as she gave herself up to the enveloping blackness.
Down. Down she sank like falling into a pile of autumn leaves. Willingly Miranda went, eagerly seeking blessed release from her life’s drudgery. The hammering within her mind increased. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was growing slower, second by merciful second.
But life is a stubborn thing, struggling to continue even when unwanted. Miranda’s will leapt to life, urging her to fight the coming night. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her pulse echoed, growing louder. Fight, damn you! Fight! It whispered fiercely in her ear. Fight or death’ll have won. Fight, or life will have been meaningless. Fight, Miranda!
Survival broke through to her. She struggled in the arms of her deliverer. However, Miranda desired peace - rest- more than survival. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The heartbeat began growing faint. Merciful release was sought once more.
Tangy moisture fell in droplets through her parted lips, striking her tongue. Something deep inside stirred, seared it’s way through the heavy blackness. Come to me, Miranda. The stranger’s call whispered. Come to me. Images began clouding before he darkening vision. Peter leaving her. Tabby, the cat, waiting dinner. Tumbling fall leaves. Those penetrating grey eyes. Her attention focused there. The vision held. Became stronger. Come back to me, Miranda. There’ll be no more pain. The eyes compelled - commanded - her attention. Her return.
Miranda struggled against that riveting gaze. She wanted her peace. Her rest. She deserved it! Darkness wrapped its cold comfort around her like a silken velvet cloak. And more sharp tanginess seared into her, hitting the back of her throat.
Please, Miranda, the grey eyes pleaded.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Miranda paused in her descent, looking deep within those eyes. Perhaps they contained more than the mere command to live. She looked...and saw need. Desire perhaps. Whatever his gaze revealed upon the screen behind her closed lids, she began to struggle. To fight her icy suitor.
The stranger wrapped his will around her’s, melding them together, lending her his strength. She tasted more of the tangy ichor. Consciousness and need came as one. Tentative hands grasped his offered arm. A hungry mouth fastened upon his wrist, drinking deep of the offered nectar waiting there. His blood. Her blood. Strength -warmth- crept through her languid body. Miranda’s eyes opened once more, fire burning deep within them.
The stranger cuddled her close, smiling down at her. Letting her drink deeply from his wrist, before pulling it gently away. “Welcome back, Miranda. Welcome to a new life. One which you create. Control.” A grin split his pale face. “Perhaps you’ll share part of it with me.”
She nodded her ascent, as deep within her a hunger raged. Miranda smiled, feeling her canines extending. Elongating. They brushed her lower lip.
“I’m thirsty.”
The stranger’s - Keeley’s - laughter spilt out into the October air as he helped her to her feet.
Copyright Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, 1997
Here's the next Miranda Snapshot, as promised. Please, keep reading through next week, as I think the first and fourth installments are the best. And then, a ghost story, or perhaps something else supernatural...
Miranda’s Choice
Miranda slid into sleep, heartbeat exploding in her ears and echoing in her mind. Thump-thump, thump-thump; the only sound she heard. Leaden limbs drew farther down still, deep into the velvety comforting abyss. So this is what it’s like, she thought. The comfort of death’s embrace. First brief pain, then the mellow darkness. I should have done this long ago. Might have spared myself more grief.
An unnoticed gasp escaped her parted lips. The dark man - stranger no more - shifted position slightly, the better to support her. She was aware of this. She was also aware too of the slight pricking at her neck; the result of his movement. It all became more inconsequential as she gave herself up to the enveloping blackness.
Down. Down she sank like falling into a pile of autumn leaves. Willingly Miranda went, eagerly seeking blessed release from her life’s drudgery. The hammering within her mind increased. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was growing slower, second by merciful second.
But life is a stubborn thing, struggling to continue even when unwanted. Miranda’s will leapt to life, urging her to fight the coming night. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her pulse echoed, growing louder. Fight, damn you! Fight! It whispered fiercely in her ear. Fight or death’ll have won. Fight, or life will have been meaningless. Fight, Miranda!
Survival broke through to her. She struggled in the arms of her deliverer. However, Miranda desired peace - rest- more than survival. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The heartbeat began growing faint. Merciful release was sought once more.
Tangy moisture fell in droplets through her parted lips, striking her tongue. Something deep inside stirred, seared it’s way through the heavy blackness. Come to me, Miranda. The stranger’s call whispered. Come to me. Images began clouding before he darkening vision. Peter leaving her. Tabby, the cat, waiting dinner. Tumbling fall leaves. Those penetrating grey eyes. Her attention focused there. The vision held. Became stronger. Come back to me, Miranda. There’ll be no more pain. The eyes compelled - commanded - her attention. Her return.
Miranda struggled against that riveting gaze. She wanted her peace. Her rest. She deserved it! Darkness wrapped its cold comfort around her like a silken velvet cloak. And more sharp tanginess seared into her, hitting the back of her throat.
Please, Miranda, the grey eyes pleaded.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Miranda paused in her descent, looking deep within those eyes. Perhaps they contained more than the mere command to live. She looked...and saw need. Desire perhaps. Whatever his gaze revealed upon the screen behind her closed lids, she began to struggle. To fight her icy suitor.
The stranger wrapped his will around her’s, melding them together, lending her his strength. She tasted more of the tangy ichor. Consciousness and need came as one. Tentative hands grasped his offered arm. A hungry mouth fastened upon his wrist, drinking deep of the offered nectar waiting there. His blood. Her blood. Strength -warmth- crept through her languid body. Miranda’s eyes opened once more, fire burning deep within them.
The stranger cuddled her close, smiling down at her. Letting her drink deeply from his wrist, before pulling it gently away. “Welcome back, Miranda. Welcome to a new life. One which you create. Control.” A grin split his pale face. “Perhaps you’ll share part of it with me.”
She nodded her ascent, as deep within her a hunger raged. Miranda smiled, feeling her canines extending. Elongating. They brushed her lower lip.
“I’m thirsty.”
The stranger’s - Keeley’s - laughter spilt out into the October air as he helped her to her feet.
Copyright Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, 1997
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Background on Miranda
(This drawing doesn't have a danged thing to do with the rest of the post. I just like showing off the girls' artwork. Monkey Girl did this piece of our family. That's her on the left, with her dog, Baby in front of her. Next is me, then Mr. Incredible with is arm around me. To the left of him is The Kate. That's her dog Jake in front. And on the far right is Drama Queen with her dog Rosie. She's holding a fish bowl with Goldie in it. Goldie has since gone to the big aquarium in the sky. She was an old fish. )
I don't have much time as sleep is calling to me, but I'm off to my grandmother's for a few days and wanted to explain a bit about the Miranda Snapshots before I go. "While Walking Home At Midnight" was originally written for a local ghost story contest. I knew it wouldn't win, as it's far from a traditional ghost, or spooky, story, but it got me to write.
I was pretty happy with the little story, written to the contest's very short word count guidelines. My friends seemed to be happy as well, until they got to the ending. My lovely ambiguous ending. I liked it that way. They wanted to know more. Pain and death were mentioned in connection with my name if I didn't tell what happened next. Being as allergic to pain as the next person, this worried me a bit, although I really didn't see a certain website providing friend driving all the way from New Jersey to make good on the threat. Still, ya never know with guys. So I had to figure out what happened next. And how I was going to write it.
Thus the "snapshot" was born. It was just a little slice of what was happening, kept to the same word count as the original story. This is why they are so danged short and rather lacking in those colorful details a certain pediatric surgeon mentioned in his comment. (Thank you, Chris, by the way. I really appreciated the feedback.) It would probably have a bit more depth with some of those details, but I was struggling to get what I was feeling onto paper. These little bits are good exercise for that. (I also just realized that I had about 50 more words to play around with, dang it!)
I'm the least happy with this snapshot and yet I think it's got some of the most emotion in it. I really like the fourth snapshot, which I'll share next Friday. It's the last one I wrote, just a couple of years ago. Will there be more? I honestly can't say. It's difficult to write a character that you don't know that well and, honestly, I've not gotten to know Miranda that well through the years. Maybe, now that these are getting posted, she'll climb into my brain and take it over for a little while, letting me know what makes her tick. If that happens, there will be more. Maybe this is what I'll do for NaNo this year - write more about Miranda. Hmmm, that's a thought. If this other idea doesn't pan out by November....
Thanks for reading.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Fiction Fridays: The Dark Stranger
Please work with me here. I want to try something new where every Friday I post some new fiction for you to read. I know it's technically Saturday, at least in the Eastern timezone, because my computer is telling me that it's now 1:48 am, but since I haven't been to bed yet, my brain still claims that it's Friday. Close enough.
This is the second installment, or snapshot, in my Miranda series, which is growing at a snail's pace. I posted the first one back in December, but it was written before Drama Queen was born. I think, honestly, that this is the weakest of bunch, but you can let me know what you think. I'll post the third bit next Friday. And hopefully, I'll be able to keep this up, posting fiction for you to read on every Friday. (No promises during NaNo, though.)
Enjoy. And please, leave me some feedback. I know I've got followers, so tell me what you think. Otherwise, I'll get all lonely and depressed.....*pout*
The Dark Stranger
His silent call washed over her.
Follow me.
Follow me, Miranda
I can end your pain, stop your suffering.
Follow me, Miranda.
Drawn forward by those steady grey eyes, and the sililant whispering of his words in her mind, Miranda stepped forward into the alley, barely aware. A third of the way down iron steps snaked upward, into the night. He paused at teh base. Waiting. Slowly, she ascended, drawn onward by that impenetrable gaze.
From the roofop, they stood looking out over the University's Common Green, Grey Chapel towering in the background. October's half-moon cast its silvery color over all.
"My poor, Miranda. You've suffered such pain." His hand caressed the side of her warm face as she turned, fitting her head to his cool palm. A soft sigh was his only answer.
"Would you like me to ease your pain, Miranda? Hmm? Remove it entirely, giving you the rest of oblivion? Or..." Pause. Grey eyes searched her face intently, "would you like me to give you a new life?" His hand slid beneath her hair to the soft skin of her neck, drawing her into him. Her hands, resting on his chest, detected no heartbeat singing beneath her touch. "Which would you wish of me, Miranda? You've only to ask...but you MUST choose."
Tentative.
Trembling.
Searching.
"Please, end it..."
With infiinte slowness he leaned over her. Lips brushed mouth. Cheek. Neck, where he hesitated briefly. Miranda barely registered the pain as he sank into her flesh. Hands clutched at his shirt. She cried softly. Struggled briefly, futily. Finally she collapsed against him. The roaring, pounding heartbeat all that was heard. A lightheadedness threatened to consume her.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Gradually the hammering subsided as other sounds seeped into her awareness. Breath's soft ragged whisper. The gentle, sucking sounds at her neck. Miranda could feel his hand, holding her in place. His arm around her waist more intimate than any lover's sweet embrace.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Miranda's heartbeat became fainter, fading towards nothingness as she fought against the dark curtain drawing in around her. Muffling her senses. She struggled in vain, blackness overtaking her, pulling her down. Down towars death.
The man lifted his head as she collapsed completely into him. Holding her upright a moment more, he contemplated the look of serenity on her face. Once more caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, he sank to the rooftop, drawing her onto his lap. Ah, Miranda, not it's time for you to choose. I wonder? Will you come back to stay with me awhile? The stranger bent over her again, grey eyes scrutinizing. A gentle kiss. Quickly biting his wrist, he lowered it to her death-parted lips. Come to me, my Miranda.
Copyright, Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, 28 May, 1998
This is the second installment, or snapshot, in my Miranda series, which is growing at a snail's pace. I posted the first one back in December, but it was written before Drama Queen was born. I think, honestly, that this is the weakest of bunch, but you can let me know what you think. I'll post the third bit next Friday. And hopefully, I'll be able to keep this up, posting fiction for you to read on every Friday. (No promises during NaNo, though.)
Enjoy. And please, leave me some feedback. I know I've got followers, so tell me what you think. Otherwise, I'll get all lonely and depressed.....*pout*
The Dark Stranger
His silent call washed over her.
Follow me.
Follow me, Miranda
I can end your pain, stop your suffering.
Follow me, Miranda.
Drawn forward by those steady grey eyes, and the sililant whispering of his words in her mind, Miranda stepped forward into the alley, barely aware. A third of the way down iron steps snaked upward, into the night. He paused at teh base. Waiting. Slowly, she ascended, drawn onward by that impenetrable gaze.
From the roofop, they stood looking out over the University's Common Green, Grey Chapel towering in the background. October's half-moon cast its silvery color over all.
"My poor, Miranda. You've suffered such pain." His hand caressed the side of her warm face as she turned, fitting her head to his cool palm. A soft sigh was his only answer.
"Would you like me to ease your pain, Miranda? Hmm? Remove it entirely, giving you the rest of oblivion? Or..." Pause. Grey eyes searched her face intently, "would you like me to give you a new life?" His hand slid beneath her hair to the soft skin of her neck, drawing her into him. Her hands, resting on his chest, detected no heartbeat singing beneath her touch. "Which would you wish of me, Miranda? You've only to ask...but you MUST choose."
Tentative.
Trembling.
Searching.
"Please, end it..."
With infiinte slowness he leaned over her. Lips brushed mouth. Cheek. Neck, where he hesitated briefly. Miranda barely registered the pain as he sank into her flesh. Hands clutched at his shirt. She cried softly. Struggled briefly, futily. Finally she collapsed against him. The roaring, pounding heartbeat all that was heard. A lightheadedness threatened to consume her.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Gradually the hammering subsided as other sounds seeped into her awareness. Breath's soft ragged whisper. The gentle, sucking sounds at her neck. Miranda could feel his hand, holding her in place. His arm around her waist more intimate than any lover's sweet embrace.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Miranda's heartbeat became fainter, fading towards nothingness as she fought against the dark curtain drawing in around her. Muffling her senses. She struggled in vain, blackness overtaking her, pulling her down. Down towars death.
The man lifted his head as she collapsed completely into him. Holding her upright a moment more, he contemplated the look of serenity on her face. Once more caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, he sank to the rooftop, drawing her onto his lap. Ah, Miranda, not it's time for you to choose. I wonder? Will you come back to stay with me awhile? The stranger bent over her again, grey eyes scrutinizing. A gentle kiss. Quickly biting his wrist, he lowered it to her death-parted lips. Come to me, my Miranda.
Copyright, Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, 28 May, 1998
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