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To: Darkchylde
I had never been interested in going to college & was never told it something to look to. So I don't really have any interest in college & now everyone is telling me I should go (including mom).

Maybe you could go to college and major in English. That way you could get a degree while you write. Granted, you'll have to take the gen ed classes, but after you get those out of the way, you can focus on the literature and poetry classes.

41,069 posted on 11/12/2004 8:07:40 AM PST by tuliptree76
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To: tuliptree76

Believe it or not, I was a slacker
in english class in Highschool. I
never took well to having my reports
disfigured with pen marks (corrections).
I guess that was my stubborn writer stepping
in before I was actually much of a writer.


41,076 posted on 11/12/2004 8:46:19 AM PST by Darkchylde (Resistentialism - seemingly spiteful behavior manifested by inanimate objects)
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To: tuliptree76; Monkey Face; Tax-chick; Fedora; Darksheare; NicknamedBob

Behold! The next installment is complete... I think.
It's a bit long...

He could hear her clearly throughout the day. She drifted to
him through his dreams. Funny, vampires weren’t supposed
to have dreams. It was one of those things stolen away when
a mere mortal became IMMORTAL... Yet he still dreamed.

He never had been like the others. As a matter of fact, he had
been made an outcast long ago. Stigmatized by the damned
themselves... oh, the irony of it he mused in his slumber. How
he laughed, laughed like a mad man when they condemned him
to such a fate... never belonging to either world, but being
imprisoned within both. Hated & persecuted, the loneliness &
silence had driven countless others to insanity, choosing oblivion
rather than living another night with the mark of such damnation.

As night fell, his senses began stirring him. He could hear her
leaving her house & walking in the direction of their rendevous
point. Though the sun had not fully set, his anticipation would let
him sleep no longer. Odd, he could almost feel his heart pounding
with excitement though he knew it couldn’t possibly. Not wanting
to be late, he made a quick change & slipped out the door just as
the last rays of the sun disappeared.

She would be waiting on the corner of Shallott & Chatalain. He
had always wondered why anyone would name a street “Chatalain”?
Noone even knew what the word meant anymore. Suddenly he felt
tense. He didn’t sense another vampire, could it be that he was
actually nervous? Imagine, at his age he joked to himself.

There she was at the rendevous, just as they’d planned. She
was wearing a little black number that was flattering in all the
right ways. He never realized she had dresses like THAT in
her closet, she’d never worn such an ensemble before. His
nerves started again... he kept reminding himself the sensation
wasn’t real, but it felt real, just like his pounding heart.

She smiled at him as he stood awkwardly shy on the opposite
corner. How was this frail creature doing this to him? How
could she weave such a spell without even realizing what she
was doing? He pushed forward across the intersection to her
side. The curves in that dress were even more enticing than before.

“Well, hello” came the lilting response. The rhythmic sway of
her voice made his mind float. He loved that feeling for some
reason beyond his ability to comprehend or explain. “Is this
suitable?” she worriedly asked. Perhaps she mistook the
dazed expression on his face for one of dissatisfaction.
“Oh, no. It’s fine. You look incredible.” he said as he stumbled
for words, trying so hard not to accidentally insult her. Just
how did she do this to him?

They walked along the buildings, having conversations that
neither of them had bothered having with another “living”
creature in a long time. They laughed & joked as they hadn’t
done in so long... he tempered his desire to tell her
EVERYTHING. If all went well, she’d know in good time.

During their liberating conversation, they had neglected to
pay attention to the direction of their travel. It was wonderfully
convenient when they found themselves stumbling upon a dance hall.

“Can you dance?” they asked each other in an obvious state
of mental union. Both giggled at the moment before rushing
through the door. They tore up the dance floor for what seemed
to be hours, besting everyone in all the competitions & giving a
tango performance like none had seen before.

“Where did you learn to dance like THAT?” she asked him
after they had caught their breath. “I had been taught many
forms of dance from a young age” He said. “Now, where
did YOU learn to dance like that?” He couldn’t help but
smile as she blushed. “I... I started studying ballet when I
was young. When my mother died, my father sent me
away for looking so much like her. I went to live with my
aunt, my mother’s sister, in Spain. While there she made
sure I learned traditional Spanish dances. When my cousin
traveled to Brazil, I was sent as a guardian. I immersed myself
in their variations of Spanish dances.” He stood there stunned
”Wow” was all he could manage to say. She certainly explained
things in more depth than he did.

He walked her home as he had the night before, thoroughly
behaving himself. Not once had he thought of biting her, that
fact amazed him. Somehow she was able to keep his hunger
at bay. “Thank you for such a wonderful night, I’m looking
forward to next time” she soothingly whispered before gently
giving him another kiss. This kiss was different than the last
though. Her lips met his. It had been a long time since his last
“true” kiss. She giggled, watching him stumble back in a lover’s
daze. Once again she said “goodnight” before closing that big
Victorian door.

For some odd reason that door looked familiar to him, the
reason why just wasn’t coming to mind now. He wasn’t
surprised though, she just KISSED him! His mind was
transported elsewhere by her soft lips.

His blissful reverie was shattered by a shadowy figure near
one of her windows. He hadn’t fed all night & now was the
perfect chance. Silently he crept upon the would be burglar.
Before the wretch had time to scream he was silenced by
fangs imbedded deep in his neck. He quickly distributed the
now lifeless body in a “rival” cemetery, known for it’s mysterious
occurrences & association with the Santeria.

Now he could rest. Back to his crypt he crept, lying himself
down just before day break. He was getting to old to take
risks like that. As he drifted the image of the big cherry wood
Victorian door drifted into his supposedly impossible dreams...
where had he seen it before?


41,084 posted on 11/12/2004 9:25:50 AM PST by Darkchylde (Resistentialism - seemingly spiteful behavior manifested by inanimate objects)
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