Post by oxvampireloverox on Nov 16, 2009 22:38:00 GMT -5
The bleak dungeon tunnels were hauntingly silent. The vampric prisoners no longer screamed or whined, their will was no more but to their masters upstairs. Not even the aching thirst at the bac of their throats gave them the will to so much as whimper. They didn't dare make a sound being fearful of the angels. Now the will of their masters was their will. They were to not whine for more blood when the thirst clung onto them. They were to only be given enough to nurish them, not to satisfy them, and expected to be tolerant. This was utter madness...
Among the rows of ceils, inside one of them was where the defiant Penny the Jester (self given title) resided. That's me! I too was forced to be trapped behind locked dungeon doors. At the far right corner here of my ceil I lazily spralled out and leaned againist the cold stone walls. My emerald green eyes gazing up at the cob webs dangling from above, where two spiders hungrily fought one another for a simple flie to eat. In my mind I was trying to find words, for in my hand was an old crinkled piece of paper and the other held the tiniest sliver of wood. This little sliver had been sharpened by me and it dripped with my blood. I was trying to find words specifically for a sortive last will, and then I had the words to write...in french of course, so anyone who found it probbaly wouldn't be able to read it...
My name is Penelope Rose Sinclair,
I am a vampire, along with being a prisoner, and slave in this dreadful place. Though I doubt anybody will find, let alone read this, I'm afraid I may be writing my last words in blood, one this old piece of paper. For I am being given to another slave, as her "play thing" you might say. Play thing of torture, unfortunetely and she has given me a rather terribly graphic description of how we're going to "play". Her name is Abby, not that she's important. Anyways, back to me. In my 350 somethings years of living I have found myself in almost every experience imaginable, ever to be known that any being could possibly live to see. But now, though having no one any longer to love and be loved in return I regret nothing. Not my will to defy these savage beasts called "angels" and certainly not any of my retched sins I've done as a vampire. Yet now...I feel utterly lonely more than usual now. Not one of these damned leeches here
want to fight back anymore...they bring shame upon us vampires.
I hope that whoever finds this letter will find a way to escape this place, even better if you organize the slaves and start a revolt. Maybe warn the rest of the world, I don't even know how much ground of Earth these damned beasts have taken over yet.
I remember most strongly now my late husband...Marcus. How now more than ever do I wish for your arms to hold me once more before I die. That is IF I allow the sadistic bitch lay a hand on me first. Marcus...I have never stopped loving you. I will never forget even in death how once, together we were the will of the night.
-Penny the Jester
I neatly folded the paper after leaving my potential last words in blood, and stuffed it in a crack of the wall. Then now all I had was the silence as I waited for the vampire Abby to come take me in her torture chamber. Of course, no jester likes to tolerate silence. As I day dreamed of my mortal mother's singing, I sang the most common french song.
"Frere jocques, frere jocques, dorm-vous? dorm-vous? Sohnez les matines, sohnes les matines. Ding. Dang. Dong."
But of course not everyone can appreciate a good french tune.
"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BITCH!"
Called out a male voivce from the ceil across from mine. I smiled, oh now finally someone other than myself makes a sound. Calmy I stood up and slowly moved over to the small window of my ceil's door, where bars kept me inside. The one who'd insult me looked rather revolting in his filthy state, though I could only see his face through the bars of his window which he was pressed up againist.
"Yeah, you stupid bitch. Shut up, already."
He continued his rambling insults to me, and my smile drew longer along my lips. Oh yes, one last chance at a delightful trick by the jester!
"What the fuck are you smiling about!? Why don't you give-up already!?"
I took a few steps back, still smiling and also still holding my little sharpened sliver. I held it between my forefinger and thumb like a dart up to my view. With one eye open at my target I gave a simple flick aimed at the rambling moron. He screamed when the sliver pierced through his pupil. Out of my delight I cackled happily and strangely also maddly as he wailed.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH! MY EYE! OH GOD, MY EYE!"
My cackles echoed the tunnel, my madness sweeping through the ears of the other prisoners and guards like a symphony.
Among the rows of ceils, inside one of them was where the defiant Penny the Jester (self given title) resided. That's me! I too was forced to be trapped behind locked dungeon doors. At the far right corner here of my ceil I lazily spralled out and leaned againist the cold stone walls. My emerald green eyes gazing up at the cob webs dangling from above, where two spiders hungrily fought one another for a simple flie to eat. In my mind I was trying to find words, for in my hand was an old crinkled piece of paper and the other held the tiniest sliver of wood. This little sliver had been sharpened by me and it dripped with my blood. I was trying to find words specifically for a sortive last will, and then I had the words to write...in french of course, so anyone who found it probbaly wouldn't be able to read it...
My name is Penelope Rose Sinclair,
I am a vampire, along with being a prisoner, and slave in this dreadful place. Though I doubt anybody will find, let alone read this, I'm afraid I may be writing my last words in blood, one this old piece of paper. For I am being given to another slave, as her "play thing" you might say. Play thing of torture, unfortunetely and she has given me a rather terribly graphic description of how we're going to "play". Her name is Abby, not that she's important. Anyways, back to me. In my 350 somethings years of living I have found myself in almost every experience imaginable, ever to be known that any being could possibly live to see. But now, though having no one any longer to love and be loved in return I regret nothing. Not my will to defy these savage beasts called "angels" and certainly not any of my retched sins I've done as a vampire. Yet now...I feel utterly lonely more than usual now. Not one of these damned leeches here
want to fight back anymore...they bring shame upon us vampires.
I hope that whoever finds this letter will find a way to escape this place, even better if you organize the slaves and start a revolt. Maybe warn the rest of the world, I don't even know how much ground of Earth these damned beasts have taken over yet.
I remember most strongly now my late husband...Marcus. How now more than ever do I wish for your arms to hold me once more before I die. That is IF I allow the sadistic bitch lay a hand on me first. Marcus...I have never stopped loving you. I will never forget even in death how once, together we were the will of the night.
-Penny the Jester
I neatly folded the paper after leaving my potential last words in blood, and stuffed it in a crack of the wall. Then now all I had was the silence as I waited for the vampire Abby to come take me in her torture chamber. Of course, no jester likes to tolerate silence. As I day dreamed of my mortal mother's singing, I sang the most common french song.
"Frere jocques, frere jocques, dorm-vous? dorm-vous? Sohnez les matines, sohnes les matines. Ding. Dang. Dong."
But of course not everyone can appreciate a good french tune.
"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BITCH!"
Called out a male voivce from the ceil across from mine. I smiled, oh now finally someone other than myself makes a sound. Calmy I stood up and slowly moved over to the small window of my ceil's door, where bars kept me inside. The one who'd insult me looked rather revolting in his filthy state, though I could only see his face through the bars of his window which he was pressed up againist.
"Yeah, you stupid bitch. Shut up, already."
He continued his rambling insults to me, and my smile drew longer along my lips. Oh yes, one last chance at a delightful trick by the jester!
"What the fuck are you smiling about!? Why don't you give-up already!?"
I took a few steps back, still smiling and also still holding my little sharpened sliver. I held it between my forefinger and thumb like a dart up to my view. With one eye open at my target I gave a simple flick aimed at the rambling moron. He screamed when the sliver pierced through his pupil. Out of my delight I cackled happily and strangely also maddly as he wailed.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH! MY EYE! OH GOD, MY EYE!"
My cackles echoed the tunnel, my madness sweeping through the ears of the other prisoners and guards like a symphony.