17-year-old professional green tea drinker | Somehow managed to finish a novella

Message from Writer

Child of our time, our times have robbed your cradle
Sleep in a world,
Your final sleep
Has woken
-- Eavan Boland, Child of Our Time

The Blood Walls

March 3, 2019


An Exerpt
There’s this large screen right above it, and while nobody walks onstage, the screen flickers to life. A familiar face appears, and several people let out quiet gasps. Because, even though it’s been nearly 5 years since it happened, nobody forgets when an Exile has taken place. The Vampire King - the president of the Vampiric Government - greets us with a flash of sharpened fangs. I want to leave, but then I remember Chris’ gasps of pain and I settle myself down again. I hate this, yes, but I don’t plan on getting beaten black-and-blue today.

“People of The Crescent, it has been far too long!” The King’s voice booms across the Square, filling every inch, his words roll themselves over all objects, coating them with authority and power. The image on the screen spreads his long arms wide, and I catch sight of clawed, blackened fingers.
“Bow before your king!”

The command echoes in my ears. I don’t move, and I don’t expect anyone else to, either, when someone to my left bends at the waist, keeping their eyes on the asphalt at their feet as they bow. Nobody dares to breathe. Then, one by one, people I’ve known all my life, who knew Papa all theirs, worship the King. I bite my lip, anger building in the depth of my gut. I will not bow for somebody who authorised the tearing of my family. My brother is a living husk because of this monster.
I refuse to bow.

A Guard stomps towards me, shoving past the doubled-over bodies in his way. My eyes sting with fearful tears, but I don’t let them fall. Taking a deep breath, I look at the Guard. Oh, shit.

The abnormally tall build, the thinness of his limbs. It’s the same Guard from the Aeon Club, and as soon as our eyes meet, I know he recognises me. This day just keeps on getting better and better. He can’t interupt the King’s speech, we both know that, so he twirls his baton and uses the steel toe of his boot to kick me in the shin. My body crumples as pain explodes. The sensation travels like a flame, licking my legs and travelling up to my fingers. I clutch my leg, silently praying to Dios that I’m not bleeding.

I suppose this is one way to make me bow.

“You may rise,” the King continues on, oblivious to anything but himself. The Guard grasps the back of my hoodie and yanks me up, digging the fabric into my throat. I don’t try and hit him. My gag reflex kicks in, and my chest heaves, pumping acrid-tasting bile up my throat. The liquid makes it hard to breathe, and the fact that the Guard is choking me doesn’t help, either. Black dots fill my vision.

My hoodie goes slack, and I land back on my feet, jarring my shin and sending another spike of fire up my leg. The Guard retreats back to his post. I close my eyes, willing myself not to cry when Chris touches my wrist. This time, I feel no guilt. We’re even now.

“I know that you are all wondering why I have gathered you here,” the King says, his dark eyes surveying the Square. “The truth is that I come bearing the gift of a lifetime, a promise of golden prosperity and bountiful riches.”

The pain swims into the back of my mind with his words, and everybody stands up straighter. Fear bleeds away as greed swarms in to replace it. We’re all so tired of being stuck in poverty that the promise of something more, even from a creature that has lied to us in the past, is enough to get us to listen.

“There is but one request I make.” The King pauses, and I hold my breath. Of course, there’s a catch. “The only ones allowed to compete for this honour are young girls from the age of fifteen to twenty-five. Not one day older or younger. Those selected are to meet at the entrance to the Glider station in Success within the hour, or risk the imminent destruction of their families.”

A feral smile spreads across his face, the taut skin smooth and free of wrinkles. Vampires, unlike Leechers, are beautiful, ethereal beings. Mama used to pray to Dios, before taking care of Finn took up all of her time, and she asked him every day why he gave such beauty to those that wished us all harm. He never answered.

It takes all of a second for the anticipation to seep from our bones and for a riot to begin.
Screams echo across the Square, shouts of indignation and hollers of agony as Guards swarm in, brandishing their batons like swords. Chaos erupts, and in the madness, I grab Chris’ hand and weave in and out of bodies. I have to find my family before anybody takes me away. We need to hide. If what the King said is true, then the Guards will round up any girl in the age limit within a few minutes.

There'll be nowhere to go, then.


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  • March 3, 2019 - 4:26pm (Now Viewing)

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