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This is the incomplete Prologue of my Vampire story... I'd like to know what everyone thinks of it, and feedback is welcome, just make it constructive, please.

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The Crimson Chronicle

Prologue:
Transformation

21st July 1985, Midnight, London

Raphael Stevens:

I stood on a rooftop, reflecting on how bad a night it had been so far.

It was a dark and miserable night, not at all becoming of the heat that summer was known for. The wind bit at my exposed cheeks, along with the constant rainfall drenching my leather jacket, made me dislike the situation even more.

This was London, a place of corruption and filth, covered with more “Politically Correct” labels than I’d care to mention. It was still home though, and the corruption and filth meant only one thing…

The cold winds had brought a friend of mine, the smell of blood, a sweet smell which aroused the senses, and the thirst. I followed the scent; it would take me across London, eventually arriving at the East End. I followed the smell further towards its source, a back alley, it looked quite promising.

My thirst aroused, I dropped silently into the back alley, making no sound as my feet hit the cobbled pavement. I couldn’t even see a thing. A voice invaded my hearing, alerting me to the possible nature of the spilled blood.

“I’m goin’ to have fun with you, whore!” The male voice said, or growled rather.

Another sound had invaded my senses, a cry of fear, definitely female. I wouldn’t have doubted any longer that this was probably an attempted rape, and I’d make sure that it would keep its attempted status. Stepping forwards, I spoke angrily in my noticeably articulate and sophisticated English accent.

“Leave her alone, filth.”

“Fuck off, bloody posh bastard comin’ into this alley and ruinin’ our fun…” The rapist’s voice growled from the dark. I heard him take a few steps, turning around to face me probably.

I uttered again, making my anger quite noticeable, “I said… leave her alone, you bloody piece of dirt. The last time I checked, people weren’t literally crying in fear when they were having fun.”

I could still smell the blood. It wasn’t dirty enough to be from a bloody street thug like this rapist. In fact, the blood would be perfectly clean, if it weren’t for the smells of a small amount of alcohol and some drug I couldn’t recognise, probably a “date-rape” drug. I deduced that the girl had been out for a drink, and hers had been spiked, the person who spiked the drink was obviously the rapist before me.

From the sounds alone, the rapist ran at me, heavy footfalls splashing into the puddles of water which lined the alleyway. One of my hands shot out, nearly of its own volition, and made contact with something that felt like a nose. I smelled more blood as the nose shattered, different blood, dirty with heavy use of Alcohol and a few Narcotics.

It was all the incentive my thirst needed. I launched myself at the neck of the rapist, my sharp teeth bit down into the artery. The sweet crimson liquid excited my taste buds, feeding and quenching the thirst. As the thirst eventually subsided, I dropped the rapist corpse to the ground.

I turned my attention to the girl; I couldn’t see a thing, so I wound up having to stumble about in the dark. I managed to pick her up into my arms. I leapt to the rooftop above, unconscious girl in tow. Not bothering to check on her, as it would have been a waste of time, I leapt from rooftop to rooftop. I eventually arrived at my car. Unlocking the car, I placed her in the passenger seat and examined her wounds.

She had a few stabbing wounds, probably from when she’d tried to resist the rapist. A surge of anger entered my field of emotion. Anger at the bloody rapist that did this to her, she looked all of nineteen, at best. She’d need some sort of medical attention, there was plenty of that back at the safe house.

She had very little clothing on, and anything she did have on was torn and shredded to the point where there was any point in it. I pulled off my leather jacket, thanking whatever god existed that it wasn’t expensive, and wrapped it around her blood-splattered form.

I got in the car and drove on to the north, occasionally sparing a glance for the unconscious girl in the passenger seat. Once we were out of London, I pulled into a side road off the motorway which led to a large house, which could have constituted a small mansion.

I pulled up in front of the large house. I carried the young woman to the front door, her breathing was ragged, and she didn’t look as if she’d last for much longer, maybe a few hours. I stepped through the door, and yelled out, “Adam, Scarlet, I need your bloody help down here!”

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And so, the Prologue is finally over...

Hmm.. I'm not sure with the First person.. perhaps try the next chapter in the 3rd? Might make the action seem somewhat better.

...Interesting...

Write more. I think I have an idea of where you are going to take it, and it sounds cool.

And 3rd person limited would probably suit the story better, IMO.

And 3rd person limited would probably suit the story better, IMO.

I'm sorry, but writing in 3rd person restricts the atmosphere of the Story... it will get better with time, I assure you.

Note: Soon after this post is made, the incomplete Prologue will be somewhat... updated, to be a Complete Prologue.

I'm sorry, but...

I spoke angrily in my noticeably articulate and sophisticated English accent.

This smacks of utter snobbery to me. He doesn't need to describe how his accent sounds-- this is the role of another character or a narrator to describe, not the speaker himself.

That aside, you have a decent enough premise, if very Angel-ish.

This smacks of utter snobbery to me. He doesn't need to describe how his accent sounds-- this is the role of another character or a narrator to describe, not the speaker himself.

He's an Arrogant Snobbish Twit... what can I say?

Edit: I've never seen Angel BTW

To sum it up in a nutshell: Angel is a vampire of Irish descent living in Los Angles. In the early seasons of the show, a habit of his was to prowl the streets at night and rescue various people, generally from vampires but often just muggers as well. Sometimes he'd bring the rescuees back to his pad if their situation was exceptional. He picked up a fair few people along the way-- a half-demon seer who later passed his ability to Angel's eventual love interest (who was also working as his secretary), a disbarred Watcher, a vampire killer from the 'hood, a chick he rescued from an alternate dimension... what can I say, I think you should see the similarity though.

Yes... I do see the similarity... I've also drawn a lot on britain itself... London's a nasty place.

The Second Chapter is co-written with a friend of mine... I'm just waiting for her to finish writing her part of the Chapter

Elheru Aran wrote:I'm sorry, but...

I spoke angrily in my noticeably articulate and sophisticated English accent.

This smacks of utter snobbery to me.

That's because the guy's a snob. Come on, even I noticed that.

Chapter One is finished (the one at the top is a Prologue)

***********

Chapter One:
Awakening and Bad Memories

Thorne Manor, Just after Midnight, July 22nd
Adam Thorne:

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”

I was angry, that much was evident.

“It isn’t my fault! I couldn’t just leave her there!”

I was angry at Raphael, bringing a raped girl there for me to clean up. Not that I objected to it, but we were trying to keep a low profile, something Raphael obviously didn’t know the meaning of.

After looking at the young girl properly myself, I saw why the boy had saved her, she wasn’t particularly beautiful or stunning, not to say that she wasn’t attractive, although she might have looked better had she not been shredded by a knife. Some sick bastard had been attracted to her, in the wrong way, and it was up to me to pick up the blood splattered pieces, yet again.

We were stood in the living room; the girl was on the couch, slipping in and out of consciousness.

I sighed, “Never mind that now, hand me a knife…”

“What?!” Raphael protested, “Don’t kill her!”

“You honestly think I would murder a helpless girl?” I started, “I may be many things, but murderer is not one of them.”

Raphael was indignant, “What are you going to do to her then?”

“I shall do the same thing I did to you. I shall give her the gift of immortality, the gift of strength.” I answered quietly, “It should be enough to save her.”

“Thank you, Adam.”

“Don’t mention it, what would any decent upstanding man do?”

It only took a moment for Adam to retrieve the knife. As I leaned over the young woman; I trailed a single cut down my wrist, a small trickle of my dripping into her mouth. An instinctive reaction which I’d seen many times before, she grabbed onto my arm and bit at the wounded wrist, sucking as much blood as she could get. After a small while, and a few pints of blood lost on my part, she started convulsing.

It only lasted a moment; she lost consciousness entirely, her visible cuts began to close, quickly, my work here was done. She would become one of us. I went to sleep for the rest of the morning, hoping that I wouldn’t regret my decision.

***************

Joanne Cunningham

Joanne’s mind swam with voices and images - pushing against each other to surface - but she wanted to slip in to the cold dark void that threatened to swallow her.

She was aware of voices and pain.

So much pain, her inner voice screamed - wanting to let go of the clasp she had on the mortal coil, too many stark memories threatened to choke her.

She remembered going in the small east end pub - had been surprised to see Jon there, she thought he was still in prison - no one had seen fit to tell her he had been released .

He had stumbled over - weaving his way through other drunker patrons, Joanne prayed her friends would arrive soon but they were late as usual, on any other occasion she would have felt at ease in the pub.

She had grown up in the east end, and knew how to spot trouble.

Right now, it was standing before her, trailing a finger down her cheek.

“Ello luv - long time no see!” Jon slurred.

Joanne stepped back away from him touch, feeling her body chill at the sound of his voice - how she had ever gone out with this loser she would never know.

“Jon, don’t - just leave me alone okay?” she asked - proud that her voice remained calm.

“What! I ain’t done nuffin - yet - no - sorry Jo, no trouble I promise. One drink? For old times sake?” she had known it was a mistake but nodded anyway - wanting him to just go.

She didn’t see him put anything in her Vodka and orange but it wasn’t long before her vision began to blur and her head swim - she tried to move away from him but stumbled - looking like any other drunken woman on a night out.

“Never could handle ya drink Jo, lets get you home sweetheart” Jon chuckled, steering her towards the door.

She tried to shout, but her voice had ceased to work, and every time she struggled she just stumbled more.

He led her in to the pitch-black alley around the back of the pub.

Fear began to claw at her throat, she could feel his mouth on hers- trying to kiss her, his hands ripping her clothes aside - the bitter cold air stinging her flesh.

“No” she moaned - trying to push him away - his fingers clawed at her breasts, pushing her against the damp wall - pushing a thigh between her knees - she tried to struggle, to escape.

Her body was alive with pain, she felt the hot blade of the knife slash her skin - once, twice - white-hot pain cut through her as he plunged the knife in her stomach - at the same moment his pushed his vile body in to hers.

His foul breath washing over her face as he grunted and panted his completion - his foulness sticky on her thighs.

It was at that moment she was aware she was dying, he pushed her away as a voice filled the alley.

< HELP> her mind screamed - her mind had pulled back in to the present, she could hear the coldly aristocratic voice - the voice of the man <thing> that had saved her.

Her mind had registered him arguing with Jon, then an eerie silence - he had carried her - she could remember his hands on her - dispassionate and oddly uncaring even though he had saved her life.

Her body told her she was dying - thoughts of her past flashed through her mind - of Jon, her family, friends - and she didn’t care.

She just wanted the pain to stop - the voices to quieten - peace.

Joanne felt a warm substance flow in to her mouth, and she gulped it down - she hoped it would kill her quickly - it was sweet and revitalizing, as she laid back the room closed in to darkness once more.

She knew that Joanne Cunningham had died in that alley, but something else had been born in her place.

************

Raphael Stevens:

Morning, July 22nd 1985, Thorne Manor

I sat in the guest bedroom, watching over the young woman. She was considerably more beautiful without her cuts and bruises, which healed overnight, after Adam’s treatment. She would become one of us, a member of this house, and it was up to me to take care of her, for the time being at least. Scarlet had dressed the young woman in some simple garments, so at least, when she woke, she wouldn’t call me a pervert.

I sat back in the sunlight peering through the window. I glanced out at the sun, defying a large myth about my kind by simply sitting there.

A slight groan escaped the woman’s lips as she awoke. I mentally prepared myself for the oncoming questions and suspicion. Becoming one of us was confusing, you felt, different, revitalized, reborn, as if the person you were had died, and you were born again in the infinite power of immortality.

It was overwhelming to say the least.

She sat up, and glanced about the sunlit room, her eyes eventually training themselves on me, her face did nothing to hide her emotions. She was confused, and angry, “Who are you?! Where am I?!”

“You’re safe,” Was my answer, “I saved you from...”

She finished my sentence coldly, “Jon.”

“Yes… the rapist bastard.” I answered coldly, “I’ll need to know your name.”

The young woman told me, “Cunningham, Joanne Cunningham.”

“I’m Raphael Stevens…” I trailed off looking for the words, “We need to talk.”

“What about?” She asked, innocently, “And why do I feel like everything I touch, smell, hear and see has been magnified?” She gasped, “I died, or at least came close.”

I sighed, “You are not who you once were.”

“What? What do you mean?” She asked, nervously.

“How do I explain this…?” I gulped, “We had to change you into something different to a normal human to save your life.”

“Something… different? What do you mean by that?” She looked insulted.

“A better version of your former self, you are faster, stronger… it’s just that…”

She yelled, “Tell me!”

“You need blood, human blood, to survive.”

She looked shocked and made it known loudly, “You mean a Va… No, this can’t be happening! They don’t exist!”

“Yes, they do! Both you and I are living testaments to their existence!”

She looked at me, challengingly, “Prove it!”

“If you insist...” I bared my teeth, my longer-than-normal and very sharp canines clearly visible. I bit into my right hand, piercing the skin, and drawing blood. Within moments, the superficial wounds had closed.

She’d seen it happen, and she was shocked, “Oh, my God… What are you?”

I grinned, “The same thing you are Joanne.”

She looked resigned, as if giving into the undeniable truth that she wasn’t quite in Kansas anymore.

*****************

So tell me what you think?

Dakarne wrote:So tell me what you think?

OK, whilst the story seems alright, with various hints from other sources of vampires (I'm seeing influences of Ann Rice's work, Christopher Pike's the Last Vampire series, and Underworld, the film of course), don't know if this was your intention but I read alot when I've got nothing else to do.

The main nitpick that I have with this fic is it could become confusing in later chapters, both for you and your readers, if you keep refering to characters in the first person. The idea of first person writing works, but only if you stick with one character, so far you've written it from two different characters perspectives.

Your prologue worked reasonably well in the first person, from Raphael's perspective. However chapter one should have been written either in the Third-Person, or you should have stayed with Raphael's perspective.

Really for up coming chapters either write in the third-person to avoid confusion; or pick a central character, like Raphael, and write it from that characters view so it's as though you were them. For an example of first-person writing pick up "I, Jedi" or a classic Detective novel.

Other than that not bad, get working on the next chapter