The Birth Of Evil #1

This is a novel I started about a year ago, its essentially two stories written in parallel so currently each chapter is split in half, the first section set in early 20th century America. The second half is set at the beginning of creation and looks at the myth of lilith (first wife of adam and the first vampire).
I have my own take on vampires which is a lot closer to Bram Stoker's view than most modern vampire books so please don't complain about the fact that sunlight doesn't kill them.
I am new to writing.com and so am on a free membership and don't have space to put up the other chapters I have ready but if I get useful reviews I'll upgrade so I can put more up.
This is a work in progress with no idea when or if it will be finished so please be patient.

Hope you find it interesting
Midnight Stalker

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The cold floorboards creak beneath her feet as Heather quietly creeps down the hallway, the small candle held out in front of her lighting her way. She walks down the hallway barefoot, a white cotton night-gown flowing down to round her ankles. The straps of her night-gown covered by her long black hair falling freely over her shoulders spreading out over the soft white cotton, black fingers shining in the flicker of the candle flame. She reaches the door and slowly turns the handle the latch squeaking free and the door opens quietly before sliding through the small gap created, softly closing the door behind her.

Inside the room she blows out the candle and walks across the room, the small amount of moon light breaking round the edges of the curtains lighting her path to the bed. Sliding into the bed beneath the heavy duvet she slides her arm round James' body pressing against his warm back.

Outside the rain raps on the window the wind rattling the window frame and she pushes herself further into his back enjoying the heat of his skin through the cotton. The rain still light and the wind low as the storm gathers and Heather drifts off to sleep listening to the persistent tapping at the window.

Heather wakes, confused, she looks about her unsure what woke her, outside lightning flashes and thunder follows after a long pause. She rolls over turning away from James still asleep and slides her legs out as she sits up, her night-gown catching on the rough mattress holding it up, letting her lower legs be brushed by the cold air, her calves tensing at the icy touch. As her feet touch down on the bare wood she flinches and almost cries out from the cold, polished surface. She stands and her night-gown falls down covering her calves once more, letting them relax, hidden from the touch of the cold room. Slowly she crosses to the window and holds back the curtain letting her see over the fields the rain falling heavily now, the fields filling with water, puddles forming all over their bare soil. The trees dotted round the edges of the fields swaying heavily in the wind bending backwards from the storm winds as they pick up.

Dawn still far off, Heather lets the curtain fall back into place and turns back towards the bed. She hears a sound from downstairs and stops still, holding her breath. Lightning flashes round the curtain and the thunder rolls over the house making her jump. As she heads back to bed she blames her imagination, or the storm, or both for the noise downstairs. When she reaches the bed a crash from downstairs spins her round. Slowly making her way to the door she listens carefully for sounds making sure her steps don't make any noise. Her own breath sounding deafening to her as she crosses the floor, the distance seeming vast. Opening the door slightly she peers through the crack towards the stairs.

No signs of movement from downstairs she begins thinking it is just the storm knocking things off the walls or smashing things into the side of the house. Closing the door she leans back against it cursing her own imagination and the suddenly another crash and then footsteps on the stairs. She runs over to the bed trying not to make a sound. Shaking James by the shoulder she whispers his name trying to wake him up without any noise. He starts to stir and begins mumbling as he wakes. Heather places her finger over his mouth. "James there's someone in the house I head someone coming up the stairs" he seems to understand her and puts his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. They hear footsteps outside the door and James suddenly moves quickly swinging his legs out of the bed ready to get up.

He waits until the footsteps move past the door then stands up, he moves over to the door, Heather following, staying close to him. At the door James turns to Heather and shoos her away not wanting her to follow him before opening the door and slipping out into the hall.

Heather walks backwards away from the door till her legs hit the edge of the bed making her almost fall. She hears James shout and the whack of something hitting flesh hard. The response is low and guttural almost animal and then James cries out, Heather has to clasp her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. A door slams on the landing and she realises it must be her parents door slamming into the wall as its thrown open. Her father's shotgun blast is almost deafening inside the house; only a low growl is the response. The second blast is accompanied by her mother screaming.

A louder growl comes from the intruder and rises into some kind of tortured scream and Heather hides her face in a pillow as a succession of crashes and bangs and her mothers screams come from outside the room. Heather begins to cry as the noises stop to be replaced by her mother pleading with the intruder asking him to stop, begging him to leave her alone.

A horrific snapping sound stops her mothers pleas and Heather screams out unable to stop herself. There is nothing but silence from the hallway and then the slow careful footsteps come back heading towards the door. Heather runs to the window and grabs a candlestick off the side. Smashing the base of it into the centre of the four panes of glass makes the wood crack and buckle. The second smash splinters the wood, the glass breaking and falling out of the window. She runs the candle stick along the bottom of the window knocking out the glass shards still there.

As she gets her one leg out of the window she turns to see the door opening. Pulling herself up out through the window she finds the small ledge outside with her one foot. She begins to pull her leg through the window after her when she feels his hand grasp her ankle.

She is yanked back through the window twisting round as she goes, her body scrapped along the sharp glass sticking out from the side of the window cutting through her night-gown and tearing into her soft white flesh beneath. Her leg pops out of her hip the sound making her want to throw up as it limply follows her though the window. Landing with a bang on the hard floor her ass takes the landing before her head slams back into the floor.

The intruder stands holding her leg, his rough hand covered in dirt and blood gripping tight making the skin of her leg round his hand white. He's dressed in a dirty long brown coat and hat, his face in shadow is covered in matted hair framed with brown straggles hanging down from his hat that reach down to the line of his jaw. The moonlight shows his mouth beneath the shadow, cracked lips in an evil snarl, his teeth showing between them, yellow spikes more like an animals than a mans. He yanks her across the floor to his feet, her one leg held up by his hand her other twisted beneath her body. Screaming she tries to hit out at him with her hands, but hits nothing but his coat. Now closer she can see the coat torn and speckled with holes a huge patch missing as if shot away with a shotgun. The material left stained brown and red covered with dirt and blood, some dried some fresh.

When he drops her ankle it bounces painfully on the floor and before she can push herself away he reaches down and grabs her by the throat. Gasping for air she flails her arms at him as he pulls her up by her throat. Holding her at arms length by the throat his mouth widens into a horrific smile. She grabs at his arm trying to force him to drop her, her good foot now searching for the floor beneath her but unable to do anymore than brush it lightly with her toes. His strength is amazing as he holds her with no problem, her hands that are trying to force his grip apart manage to do nothing. He pulls her towards him and she tries to push herself away, her hands flat on his wet chest using all her might and yet she cannot stop his pull, her arms buckling as he draws her face closer to his. Even in shadow she sees his black dull eyes staring at her his skin not covered by the matted hair or dirt or blood is white, cracked and delicate. Clawing at his face she shrieks, her fingers pull chunks of skin away from his face for it to crumble to dust in her hands.

He takes hold of her wrists with his free hand and then lifting her up turns his head to the side and bites her exposed neck. His sharp teeth rip into her skin and she screams as the blood comes gushing out. Pain explodes in her head and she pulls her hands free from his, he drops his to his side no longer worried about her. She tries to shield her head from the pain as if it were trying to get into her head from the air rather than from the centre of her head. She can feel the blood being sucked from her neck, being replaced with a cold dark feeling that begins travelling through her body, she feels it travelling down the side of her body spreading across her shoulders.

The spread of the cold slows, then stops, the pain in her head slowly dies away. She feels herself falling slowly his hand slowing the fall but no longer having the strength to hold her up. She feels the blood from her neck running down over her skin soaking the night-gown turning the pure, bright white a dark red. His arm gives up and she falls onto the floor letting her look up at him now stooped over her slowly collapsing.

Scrambling away her arms pull herself over the floor boards to the corner of the room her limp leg being dragged behind her making her scream in agony with each movement. Blood runs down her arm, the warmth covering her white skin but making her shiver, knowing she will die, die in the corner of the room if she could make it that far. As she reaches the corner of the room she hears a crash from behind her. Turning round she sees the man on his knees his hand at his chest and beside him on the floor James, apparently dead, his throat torn open his body covered in blood but no pool forming around the wound on the floor. Beginning to cry she covers her face with her hands to hide the hideous sight.

The man finally topples over landing face down. Dropping her hands from her face she looks upon the body. The handle of her father's civil war sword standing out of his back. Half the blade now visible, forced out of him when he landed on the tip. The exposed blade covered with black steaming blood matching the pool spreading out beneath him. Heather closes her eyes and falls against the wall waiting for her death to come.


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Standing upon the mountain side she looks out over the desolate cracked earth, the bare trees punctuating the dead landscape, emphasising the death and decay. She starts the trek down to the dead world not looking back. Black clouds swirl in the sky above the barren plains waiting for her. Shadows squirm on the floor forming a floor of snakes surrounding the mountain. Her path down is hard and every footfall is carefully chosen so she doesn't fall. Her bare feet leave blood on the stones in her path as she makes her way down the path.

The stones covered with blood sprout black shoots that grow and twist together, thorns bursting from the sides till finally at their tips a blood red rose blossoms, the sinister colour of the petals burning in the darkness. As she descends the path of roses follows, the sharp barbs barring her return, a stream of blood flowing from the mountain top to her feet.

Stopping on the edge of an outcrop she finally turns to look back up the mountain. White clouds ring the plateau, surrounding a pool of brilliant blue, golden shafts of sunlight illuminating the top. Tears of blood run over china white cheeks. The tears hit the ground around her feet forming a small pool of blood at her feet.

She walks on, the pool caries on growing even without her tears and as she walks down under the outcrop a waterfall of blood spills over the side forming a red wall to her side. Wiping the blood from her cheeks she flicks the blood into the air; the drops fly through the air, three shining red balls of fire carried on the wind.

The balls begin to take on forms as the wind feeds them. One swoops through the air becoming a enormous bird with a mighty wingspan spreading a red shadow over the ground the dead trees caught in the shadow burst into flames. The second drop becomes a racing wolf, lightning and thunder coming from its teeth as it bites at the air and rain is torn from the air as the wolf races past. The final drop takes shape as a giant bat, its wings beating at the air sending great gusts of air to rage over the ground tearing the dead trees from the ground. As it travels over the land the bat casts a black shadow over the ground allowing no light in, creating a vast lightless world beneath it.

She watches the red creatures disappear into the distance their trails on the ground accentuating the meagreness of the world at the foot of the mountain. As she carries on winding her way down the mountain her eyes are red but no more tears fall on her cheeks.

Reaching a small section with an overhang she sits on a rock looking out over the planes. The shade of the overhang makes her shiver, her hands go to her shoulders and she sits hugging herself drawing her feet up onto the rock. She sits looking out at the horizon where the grey ground reaches the black clouds, lightning flashing between the two the view the same along the whole horizon.

Putting her arms around her legs she sits hugging herself naked on the rock, the hatred for the world she left growing within her for casting her outside. Her independence bought for a high price now controlled by no one, no longer belonging to anyone or having to answer to anyone free to control her own life. But cast out into the empty world alone except for the evil creatures that shun the light and feed off each other unable to stand the taste of the plants grown in the warm light. The harsh wind cuts at her fragile body, blowing her long black hair around her face.

As she sits she feels the hatred inside her stomach, a ball of ice numbing her feelings, it begins to spread, the ice creeping through her, into her legs, up into her chest making her breath trying to freeze as it escapes through her lips. The ice grips her heart squeezing it tightly yet she merely sits thinking of those who treated her so harshly those who she would have to make pay. The icy grip ruptures her heart the fingers diving into it and then her blood is being sent through her body cold and numb: her lips turn black as the blood courses through them; he colour drains from her eyes, replaced with a greyness and a black heartless centre staring out over the land.

Lowering her feet to the ground she stands up letting her hands fall to her side. She heads down the mountain more determined now with a clear purpose: to make those who rejected her and her beliefs pay for there actions. With no thoughts on how to have revenge she carries on downwards no thoughts about the world she's left behind now just getting on with her life in the only way she can.

At the foot of the mountain she walks out over the stony ground without hesitation, with no backwards glance at the mountain the stream of blood stopped at the overhang no longer needed to stop her return, her hatred making that path no longer open to her with or without the roses and their lethal barbs.

Ahead is the bleakness of the dead world, a world where she now belongs not in the living world, but surrounded by the evil creatures of the night those that creep through life. Surrounded by creeping lowly creatures she refuses to creep and crawl through the world ashamed of the choices she made as if she should have bowed down to their will. Walking proud out into the land her body is bone white against the grey landscape her hair billowing behind her, her strong strides carrying her into her new life with speed and determination.