Well, I'm starting a story and if you want comment. Here's the prolouge. More will come later. Not sure what the title is yet. Anyway here we go!
Prologue
July 14th, 1893
10:06 p.m.
New York
“You have to kill him! You have to! He is a killer. Let go of me!” Mrs. Havock screamed over and over, almost incoherently. Detective Jones of the New York police department shook his head as he watched the insane mother get cuffed and pushed into the car. She refused to calm down, kicking and yelling in the car. Poor gal, she would probably have to get placed in the psycho ward. Not to mention, she’s left her child out for the orphanage. Speaking of which…
He turned toward the steps of the house. The small pale kid was watching the nurse almost hungrily. Apparently the kid had been forced to live in his closet, given nothing but raw meat. Surprisingly the kid had choked it down, meat, blood and all. A cleaner who had come in on a call from the house heard him humming in the closet. After calling 911 the cleaner had been killed. It was a horrifying sight, his neck nearly ripped from his head and the shoulders. Thing is, nobody knows who killed the cleaner. It certainly wasn’t the kid, he was totally clean.
Detective Jones came up to the kid to look him over, hoping to get a little something more then what he was given from the police.
“Hey,” he said softly, sitting down on the stair steps where the kid was sitting now.
The little boy looked at him, eyes half way closed. Most likely from exhaustion or hunger. Now that the detective was up close, he could see the boy’s features more clearly. Raven black hair, wide icy blue eyes, and extremely pale skin. His cheeks were somewhat sunken in, due to the starvation. He was now wear jeans that were nearly in tatters along with what once to be a white shirt, now a tattered dusty thing just covering the top of his body. The child nodded slowly, then pulled his knees up to his chest, then rested his cheek on them. Again, Detective Jones could see the hungry look in his eyes. He would have to tell somebody to get some McDonalds or something for the kid.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, putting a small smile on his face. Anything bigger then what he had on then might have freaked the kid out.
The little boy continued to be silent, so he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Poor boy, how hurt is he?’ the detective wondered as he patted the kid’s hair.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay,” the detective said encouragingly. “I need to ask you a couple questions though. How long has your mother kept you in that closet?”
The small child looked at him and seriously answered, “Eighteen years.”
Detective Jones looked curiously at the small boy. Surely he wasn’t eighteen years old. He hardly looked like he was seven. Maybe the kid was just guessing. He would probably have to go into therapy of some kind.
“Why?” he couldn’t help asking.
The little boy just stared at him. “It is because I am a monster.”
The detective looked down on him sympathetically. What little boy would humble himself so much that he would think he was a monster?
“No you are not. Your mom may have told you that, but you are not a monster. You are a nice boy who has a good life ahead of him. If you were a monster I probably wouldn’t be talking to you,” he said truthfully, but wincing just a little. Maybe that last part was a little too much. “But anyway, do you understand?”
The little boy looked at him again, but something was different. Finally, he realized it. The little boy’s eyes had turned red, the pupils now cat like. The detective distinctly remembered the sky blue color of his eyes.
“No, I am a monster.
“How-“ was all the detective got in before the small boy jumped on him. The child opened his mouth to reveal sharp pointy incisors. The last thing the detective remembered was the pain of two teeth punching into his jugular before he died.
The police scrambled to restrain the child as he sucked the blood out of the detective. Nothing would stop him from holding onto the man and drinking his fill. The police stopped, horrified by the scene before them. All that was left of the detective was skin and bones, literally. The child tried to leap away as the police sprang into action again. This time they caught the child and started to restrain him. All the while, blood dripped down the child’s chin, splattering everyone near him as he wildly thrashed about to get away. Finally the five police men who were trying to hold him down couldn’t take it anymore. One by one the police men let go.
The child jumped up again, and backed away into the car as if he was a dog in a corner. Then with enormous strength the boy leaped over the car and ran away into the night. One police man started to yell into his radio, but it would be too late. By the time the police would send out a warning to all police, the small boy would already be outside New York.
((This is pretty old, but I'm going to try again. Comments appreciated!))
Prologue
July 14th, 1893
10:06 p.m.
New York
“You have to kill him! You have to! He is a killer. Let go of me!” Mrs. Havock screamed over and over, almost incoherently. Detective Jones of the New York police department shook his head as he watched the insane mother get cuffed and pushed into the car. She refused to calm down, kicking and yelling in the car. Poor gal, she would probably have to get placed in the psycho ward. Not to mention, she’s left her child out for the orphanage. Speaking of which…
He turned toward the steps of the house. The small pale kid was watching the nurse almost hungrily. Apparently the kid had been forced to live in his closet, given nothing but raw meat. Surprisingly the kid had choked it down, meat, blood and all. A cleaner who had come in on a call from the house heard him humming in the closet. After calling 911 the cleaner had been killed. It was a horrifying sight, his neck nearly ripped from his head and the shoulders. Thing is, nobody knows who killed the cleaner. It certainly wasn’t the kid, he was totally clean.
Detective Jones came up to the kid to look him over, hoping to get a little something more then what he was given from the police.
“Hey,” he said softly, sitting down on the stair steps where the kid was sitting now.
The little boy looked at him, eyes half way closed. Most likely from exhaustion or hunger. Now that the detective was up close, he could see the boy’s features more clearly. Raven black hair, wide icy blue eyes, and extremely pale skin. His cheeks were somewhat sunken in, due to the starvation. He was now wear jeans that were nearly in tatters along with what once to be a white shirt, now a tattered dusty thing just covering the top of his body. The child nodded slowly, then pulled his knees up to his chest, then rested his cheek on them. Again, Detective Jones could see the hungry look in his eyes. He would have to tell somebody to get some McDonalds or something for the kid.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, putting a small smile on his face. Anything bigger then what he had on then might have freaked the kid out.
The little boy continued to be silent, so he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Poor boy, how hurt is he?’ the detective wondered as he patted the kid’s hair.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay,” the detective said encouragingly. “I need to ask you a couple questions though. How long has your mother kept you in that closet?”
The small child looked at him and seriously answered, “Eighteen years.”
Detective Jones looked curiously at the small boy. Surely he wasn’t eighteen years old. He hardly looked like he was seven. Maybe the kid was just guessing. He would probably have to go into therapy of some kind.
“Why?” he couldn’t help asking.
The little boy just stared at him. “It is because I am a monster.”
The detective looked down on him sympathetically. What little boy would humble himself so much that he would think he was a monster?
“No you are not. Your mom may have told you that, but you are not a monster. You are a nice boy who has a good life ahead of him. If you were a monster I probably wouldn’t be talking to you,” he said truthfully, but wincing just a little. Maybe that last part was a little too much. “But anyway, do you understand?”
The little boy looked at him again, but something was different. Finally, he realized it. The little boy’s eyes had turned red, the pupils now cat like. The detective distinctly remembered the sky blue color of his eyes.
“No, I am a monster.
“How-“ was all the detective got in before the small boy jumped on him. The child opened his mouth to reveal sharp pointy incisors. The last thing the detective remembered was the pain of two teeth punching into his jugular before he died.
The police scrambled to restrain the child as he sucked the blood out of the detective. Nothing would stop him from holding onto the man and drinking his fill. The police stopped, horrified by the scene before them. All that was left of the detective was skin and bones, literally. The child tried to leap away as the police sprang into action again. This time they caught the child and started to restrain him. All the while, blood dripped down the child’s chin, splattering everyone near him as he wildly thrashed about to get away. Finally the five police men who were trying to hold him down couldn’t take it anymore. One by one the police men let go.
The child jumped up again, and backed away into the car as if he was a dog in a corner. Then with enormous strength the boy leaped over the car and ran away into the night. One police man started to yell into his radio, but it would be too late. By the time the police would send out a warning to all police, the small boy would already be outside New York.
((This is pretty old, but I'm going to try again. Comments appreciated!))
