View Full Version : Fountains of Blood, Chapter 1 ( Adult, Gore ) 4324 words

June 2nd, 2015, 05:19 PM
Below is the first chapter of my novel, which I have titled Fountains of Blood. This book is still a work in progress. I have several other readers, and I have received some feedback already. I plan to complete the novel, then go back to do revisions and rewrite where necessary. Several people have already told me that the beginning of this chapter is pretty slow, and I need to show more action early on.

When I complete the first draft, I believe I will re-order the chapters so I can start the book off with a bang. Then I'll do a lot of flashbacks interspersed with chapters happening 'then'. So this is unlikely to remain chapter 1 in the long run, but it is currently the beginning. I would love all the feedback that I can get. Please be brutally honest.

================================================== ================


Waking to Darkness

He woke to utter darkness. He sat up quickly and looked around, but there was nothing to see. He could feel a soft bed underneath him, covered with a thick blanket. He was indoors, but felt neither hot nor cold. He sat perfectly still, there in the darkness. Seeing nothing. Hearing nothing. He willed his eyes to make out what was around him in the dark.

Slowly, a light started to rise in the room. It was low, with a reddish cast. The bed he sat on was old fashioned, with a large headboard, a smaller footboard, four large posts and a canopy overhead, the curtains pulled back and tied off. On each side of the bed were small night tables, mere blocks in the dim light. There might have been some objects on the night stands, but he could not make them out. There were larger blocks to the sides, a dresser and a chest of drawers. Across from the foot of the bed was a closed door, and to his right was another, open into a dark room.

He sat there in the near dark and tried to remember how he had come to be there, but there was nothing. He could remember nothing before waking up in this room. At that realization, anxiety set in. It quickly grew to panic, and before he knew it, he was hunched over on the bed, clutching the blanket in tight fists, panting with his fear. His instincts told him to run. To hide.

And just as quickly, his rational mind reasserted itself, quashing the animal panic that had seized him. He calmed his breathing first, making his breaths deep and slow. Then he relaxed his grip on the blanket, and sat up straight.

He assessed his situation logically. He was in the dark, in a strange place, with no memories. First he needed light, then to explore his surroundings and find out where he was and how he had gotten there.

Before he could put this plan to action, he sensed something coming toward him from the other side of the closed door. He focused his hearing toward it, but there were no sounds to be heard. There was definitely something there, and coming closer. The first sound he heard was the bare whisper of the door knob turning. The door opened without another sound, and the presence he sensed filled the doorway, a dark and silent silhouette against the deeper darkness behind.

Two glowing points of red light showed where the eyes should have been. He reached toward the presence he felt, and he could clearly feel its mind, but there was a barrier between them. A wall he could feel but not breach.

Without warning, his mind was shoved ruthlessly away. He reeled with the unexpected feeling of vertigo, and nearly fell out of the bed to the floor. He swiftly recovered his balance, but still he sat stunned at what had happened.

"You are strong, and you use your gifts naturally," said a deep, resonant voice. "This is good." A pause for a moment. Then, "I am going to turn on the light."

He flipped the switch on the wall beside the door. The overhead light turned on, filling the room with harsh, glaring light. It stung his eyes, which had become accustomed to the darkness. He had to close his eyes for a moment, and then blink them repeatedly until his eyes adjusted. Even with the light, everything was tinged red.

"Your eyes are still burning," the stranger said. "Make them stop."

He was confused, and it must have shown on his face. The stranger spoke again. "You made your eyes burn, so that you could see in the dark. They will continue to burn until you stop them. This makes your eyes glow with a red light, and lets you see, even in complete darkness. No doubt you saw it in my own eyes when I came in."

He took several steps into the room, before speaking again. "Pay attention to your eyes, and you will feel the burn. Make it stop."

He did as he was bid. He closed his eyes and turned his attention to them. He could feel them burning, just as the stranger said. He willed them to stop, and was surprised by how easy it was. He opened his eyes again, and the reddish tint was gone, leaving the room lit by the warm yellow light from above.

The stranger walked around to his left and leaned against the wall, his elbow casually resting on top of the chest of drawers. He was slender and of middling height, maybe five feet eight inches tall. He had medium length brown hair and brown eyes. He was impeccably dressed in a smart gray business suite and a blue shirt, which had obviously been tailored to suit him.

"Good." He said. "My name is Stephen. Can you tell me yours?"

He thought about it for a moment, before he blurted out, "No...I can't. I don't remember who I am!"

The panic that he had quelled earlier came back abruptly, even stronger than before. Again, his expression must have showed, because Stephen made a calming gesture, and said, "Be calm. This is normal. It is exceptionally rare for one of us to retain his memories after being brought over. They will return, in time."

While Stephen spoke, he felt a calming sensation gently come over his mind, relaxing him, and his panic slowly drained away. As he regained control of himself, he sensed the withdrawal of Stephen's will from his own, and realized the influence that Stephen had been exerting over his own mind.

He was displeased with that realization, and he remembered the wall that he had sensed around Stephen's mind when he had come in. He imagined a thick, impenetrable wall that surrounded not only his mind, but his body as well.

Stephen must have sensed him raising the wall. He smiled, and looked well pleased. "You learn and adapt quickly. You will be extremely formidable one day. It will take some effort for you to learn to keep your shield up at all times, but is very important that you learn it quickly. Without your mind shielded, you are vulnerable. There are those among us who will take advantage of that."

"That's the second time you have mentioned us. Who are you talking about? And what do you mean by brought over?"

"There have been many names for our kind over the years. The term you would best understand is vampire."

He sat there for a moment, astonished. Slowly, he drew in a deep breath. Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed. He laughed so hard and for so long that his cheeks hurt, his ribs ached, and tears rolled down his face.

Stephen stood there and watched him the whole time, a small smile on his face, and waited for him to finish. Once he wound down and tried to catch his breath, Stephen continued. "You wake in the dark with no memories. You cannot remember who you are or anything before this night. You figured out how to see in absolute darkness. You sensed me coming before I entered the room, even though my mind was well shielded. You sensed me manipulating your emotions, and instinctively shielded your own mind. A shield which, by the way, you allowed to fall in your fit of laughter. And you laughed so much that you cried bloody tears."

This last bit sobered him, and quickly. Bloody tears? He looked around the room and found a mirror over the dresser. He stood and walked over to it, staring at his reflection. His features were both achingly familiar, and completely strange. He recognized the high cheekbones, strong jaw and short black hair, but his piercing blue eyes were tinted pink and his skin was deathly white and pale, and smeared pink with watered down blood.

He did not know how long he stood transfixed, staring in the mirror. It must have been some time before Stephen cleared his throat and asked, "How long has it been since you have drawn a breath?"

With that question, he realized that he had not been breathing, only staring at his reflection in shock. And with that realization, he also came to the conclusion that he did not need to breath. That was another jolt in itself. Slowly he turned to look at Stephen, struggling to accept what he was being told, but he could not bring himself to believe it, because, "There is no such thing as vampires."

"Yes," he said, "and that is the greatest accomplishment that our kind has ever achieved, persuading the mortals that we do not exist. With that belief, we are free to live out our lives as we see fit. But make no mistake. If the mortals ever come to believe in us again, they will destroy us all. For while we are vastly more powerful than the average mortal, there are just too many of them for us to handle. And they have the light of day on their side as well."

"So it's true then?" he asked. "All of the old myths about vampires?"

"Hardly," Stephen answered. "Though some of it is true enough. Fire and sunlight will kill you. The teeth and claws of vampires and other supernatural creatures can kill you as well. But other than that, there is not a whole lot that can cause you serious harm."

"What about garlic? Or silver? Running water? Mirrors?"

"Do not be absurd. Garlic cannot do anything to you but make you smell like garlic. Silver is no more dangerous than iron or lead. Water cannot harm you, whether running or still. And you yourself have already looked in the mirror. Did it cause you any harm?"

"No, but I saw myself. All the old legends say that vampires do not have a reflection."

"Yes, it is true that the legends say that. That vampires do not cast a reflection in mirrors because they have no souls, but that is mostly because those are the lies that our kind have spread. It suits our purpose to make mortals believe such rubbish. No, the truth is that a mirror is a material object that reflects the image of other physical objects in front of it."

"Is it true then? That vampires have no souls?"

"That, I do not know. Nor do I care, to be honest. One of the things that is true about our kind, we do not age. We do not grow old, get sick or die. There is no such thing as 'natural causes' among us. We only die if we are killed, by sunlight, fire or violence. Otherwise, we simply go on."

Silence fell for a minute as he thought about the things Stephen had told him. Then he said, "This is a lot to take in. I still find myself not wanting to believe."

Stephen raised a hand to indicate the open door, and said, "There is your bathroom. There is a closet inside, with plenty of clothes that should fit you. Take some time to wash and clean yourself up. Please change your clothes. When you are ready, I have something for you upstairs that should convince you."

He decided that this was a good suggestion. He went into the bathroom and turned on the lights. It was a large, bright beautiful room, full of marble, stainless steel and glass. There was a large walk in shower, with slate tiles and three shower heads. There was also a big bathtub, large enough for three people, with massaging jets.

When he looked into the mirror, he was again shocked by the deathly white complexion of his face. He also noticed his clothes for the first time. He was wearing a blue golf shirt and black jeans. Both were soiled with dried blood and what might have been vomit. There were other things there as well that he did not want to contemplate.

He stripped out of the filthy clothes and stepped into the shower. The water warmed up quickly. He turned the temperature up high, and the heat was absolutely delicious. There was a chill in his body that he had hardly even noticed was there. It slowly melted under the heat until he felt almost alive again.

That thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He knew instinctively that he was not truly alive. His mind was, but his body was dead. Maybe undead was the correct term.

Slowly, his doubt dissolved under the deluge of hot water, logic and rational thinking. Acceptance came, and with it, the determination to make the best out of this new existence, and to live this new life by his own rules.

His choice made, he turned off the shower and quickly dried off. He walked into the closet, and was surprised to find it full of clothes, from elegant tuxedos to casual shorts and tank tops. He selected a business casual outfit of gray slacks, a black button up shirt and a pair of black leather shoes.

Clean, warm and dressed, he left the bathroom to find that Stephen was still standing in the same spot, as if he had not moved at all.

Stephen looked up and continued as if the conversation had not been interrupted by the shower. "Among us, it is the right of the Sire to name one newly brought over. It is a custom among some of us to name the Child in a similar manner as the Sire. The name I have chosen for you is Steffen."

He thought about that for a moment, then said, "Steffen....Well, that wouldn't be my first choice. But since I don't remember my own name, I guess Steffen will serve, for now."

Stephen nodded and said, "Come, I have something for you upstairs."

* * * * * * *

After they left his room, it quickly became obvious to Steffen that the area around the bedrooms had been designed with defense in mind. At the end of the hallway was a narrow door made of thick steel. There were two thick steel bars that could be dropped across the door and the reinforced frame to prevent it from being opened, but it was what lay beyond the door that left him dumbfounded.

In the next room was a modern bunker, fronted with wall to wall and floor to ceiling Plexiglas. Just under the high ceiling was a line of high powered halogen floodlights. There were only small windows open in the Plexiglas. In two of those windows were swivel mounted fifty caliber machine guns. Each gun was complete with a belt of ammunition running down into a very large box at the base. He probably has 10,000 rounds of ammunition there, he thought.

Between the machine guns was a rack full of grenades. They were sorted into three different types, labeled Fragmentation, Concussion, and Smoke.

There was a door built into the Plexiglas wall between the machine guns, which was closed and locked. On the other side of the wall, the room stretched for fifty feet and was completely empty all the way to the far wall, where there was another steel door. This one was very large, and nearly half as thick as the vault door at a bank. It was also closed and locked.

Stephen waited patiently while he took it all in. He seemed to be expecting a response, and prompted with, "Well?"

Steffen took another moment before he said, "Right. So you're pretty paranoid then."

Steffen could see a spark of humor in Stephen's eyes, but he did not crack a smile. He answered in a serious voice, "You do not live to be my age without a healthy dose of caution. It is not paranoia when someone truly wants to see you dead. And when you walk the night and drink blood to survive, there is always someone who wants to kill you."

Once they passed through the vault door, they entered an enclosed cement stairwell. Here there were no decorations or even the remotest sign of luxury. Just inside the door, there was an immediate turn to the right. The stairs doubled back on itself three times before the top, and at every landing there was a contraption with some sort of spigots pointing both up and down the stairs.

"What is this?" Steffen asked, gesturing to the contraptions. "More guns?"

"No" Stephen replied. "Flamethrowers. Enough to incinerate anything inside this stairwell."

As they approached the top of the stairs, Steffen started to become aware of a scent in the air. It smelled delicious, like hot chicken soup on a snowy day or a Thanksgiving turkey roasting in the oven. Like vanilla ice cream and warm apple pie, freshly baked. He felt a hunger start to rise within him. He started to walk quicker. He crowded in behind Stephen.

They left the stairs and entered a small room, barely bigger than a closet. Stephen closed his eyes for a moment and listened. Before Steffen could speak, he pulled on a lever, and a section of the wall opened outward, into a library. They came in through an actual secret entrance. An entire shelf of books was on the other side of the panel, and once they passed through, Stephen closed it again. Once closed, it was indistinguishable from the other shelves.

Several quips crossed Steffen's mind about secret passages in the library, but none of them seem the least bit important with that fragrance still filling his nose. It was stronger here. Without waiting for Stephen, he started out of the library, to follow that scent, but Stephen grabbed him by his right bicep and spun him around.

"We must speak before we go any further," he said.

"Can't you smell that?" Steffen asked? "Let go of me. I'm hungry!"

"No. Not before you hear what I have to say."

"No! I don't care what it is," Steffen said, clearly agitated. He struggled to pull his arm out of Stephen's iron grip. "Let go of me!" he roared.

Stephen shoved him backward, slamming him into the wall beside the door. He pinned Steffen there, still gripping Steffen's arm and with his own forearm across Steffen's throat.

"No," he repeated, his voice like cold steel. "Not before you hear what I have to say." The shock of it quieted Steffen and brought him back to himself.

"Okay," he said. "What is it?"

"You are a smart guy," Stephen said. "You know what you have become. You know what you will have to feed upon to survive. You must know what it is that you smell."

"Blood." Steffen said.

"Yes. That is correct," said Stephen. He went on, his voice still cold and hard, "But there is more to it than that. That blood you smell is a girl. Her name is Chelsea. I found her walking the streets. She was a drug addict, selling her body to anyone who could get her high one more time. I took her in. I cleaned her up. I fed her, clothed her and sheltered her. I have plans for her. Under no circumstances are you to kill her. Do you understand? You have no need to kill to satisfy your hunger. Only the most base and stupid of our kind kill while they feed. I will not allow that to happen in my House."

When Steffen made no answer, he repeated more loudly, "Do you understand?" Steffen nodded slowly, and Stephen released him.

"Make sure that you do. If I believe that you are getting out of control, I will not hesitate to stop you."

* * * * * * *

Chelsea was fairly tall for a woman, around the same height as Stephen. She was thin, almost skinny, and looked to have lead a harsh life. Steffen thought she looked to be around twenty, but considering what Stephen had said about her, he figured her for several years younger. She had shoulder length curly brown hair and brown eyes. She had high cheekbones, but her cheeks were hollow, and she looked to have perpetual bags under her eyes. She was casually dressed in blue jeans with a green cotton blouse.

She stood in the middle of a rather large living room. Behind her yawned a large fireplace with a blazing fire. There were several couches and chairs in the room, with a very large flat screen TV mounted over the fireplace mantle and thick white carpet.

Stephen entered the room first, and started speaking, but to Steffen, his voice was no more than a buzz. When he set his eyes on the girl, everything else faded away. That beastly part of him from earlier came howling back into his mind. It struggled with him, trying to dominate him and take control. One thought came through.


Steffen fought back. Fought as he had never fought before. Somehow, he knew that he could not give in. He could never allow that beast to take over. He pictured it in his imagination. A huge slavering monster with great black eyes and an enormous mouth full of sharp teeth. It was covered in fur mottled gray and black. It rose up on his hind legs to snap at his face.

He knew. Knew on a level so fundamental that he would never be able to explain it. This monster was a part of him. It had always been part of him, but only now that he had been transformed did it have such great strength. He also knew that he could fight it and win. He could beat it back down into some dark corner of his mind, but it was a fight that he would have to win every night. For the rest of his life.

So he stopped fighting, and he...embraced it. Accepted it. It sensed his acceptance, and stopped attacking. There in his imagination, he gathered it into his arms, and held it tight. He pulled it into him, accepted it as part of himself. He joined them together into one. One mind. One body. One soul. He was whole.

* * * * * * *

He opened his eyes, and there she was. The prey. He began to stalk her. He walked to his right and started to circle. His steps were deliberate. Confident. She belonged to him, and she was not even aware of it. Yet. He did not know what she saw in his face or eyes, but she sensed the danger she was in. She became terrified. She spoke, but her words held no value, so he did not listen. The perfume of her fear only added to the luscious aroma of her blood.

He stalked closer to her, still circling. He reached out with his mind and felt her own. It was surrounded by a feeble wall, her own natural protective shield. Gently, oh so gently, he probed that shield, looking for a weakness. He found one almost immediately. He reached out with his mind and grabbed that hole in her shield. And flexing his mental muscles, he ripped her mind apart.

She shrieked, arching her back. Her legs gave out, and she would have collapsed, but he moved in the blink of an eye and caught her in his arms. His right hand found her rear and as he pulled her in close against him, he could feel his erection.

He opened his mouth and prepared to strike when something grabbed him by the shoulder, and tried to pull him back. He pivoted, and lashed out blindly with his right fist. His backhand connected, and his shoulder was released.

He opened his mouth again, and he could feel that his fangs were distended, long and deadly sharp. He bit into her neck. Not just with his fangs, but with every tooth he could. He bit down hard until his mouth was filled with meat and blood. He nearly swooned when the blood hit his tongue. The flavor was unbelievable.

He pulled away viciously, ripping a chunk of flesh from her neck. Blood fountained into the air, and splashed against the ceiling. While he spit the wad of flesh out of his mouth, another spurt of blood sprayed over his face and chest. He locked his mouth down onto the wound, and the next gush of blood filled it. He swallowed, and it was glorious. Divine. Rapturous. He had never felt so alive.

Blood filled his mouth again and again. He gulped it down as quickly as possible, but even so, he could not get it all. As he drank, blood poured down between them, drenching them both.

Her heart slowed as he took her life. When the flow slackened, he began to suck at the wound. He pulled as hard as he could, like a kid with an extra thick milkshake. He drank until he felt her at the very edge of death, but he could sense that there was still something more to be had. He knew it instinctively. He drew hard on the wound, and he felt her die. He felt her life, her death, her very soul. And he consumed it all.

Had he still been mortal, he would have climaxed then, but he was spared that. He reveled in all that he had taken from her. His entire body burned with her stolen life and heat. The rush of power was incredible, like nothing he had ever felt before. He gloried in it.

He opened his arms and allowed the corpse to thud to the floor. He would get no further use from it. It was only so much refuse now.

June 2nd, 2015, 05:41 PM
That's a lot to absorb in one crit. You may want to break this down into more manageable bites. I'll try to get to this, but probably won't have time before the weekend.

June 2nd, 2015, 06:34 PM
It was a pain in the arse getting all the formatting right again after I pasted it in. I'm not about to change it now, but future chapters I'll break up into individual scenes.

It was a pain in the arse getting all the formatting right again when I posted this. And now it's all screwed up again. WTH?

June 2nd, 2015, 08:52 PM
Mod Please delete

June 2nd, 2015, 09:31 PM
Okay... here are my thoughts.

The Hook - The story itself was intoxicating and rich with details that held the read down and forced them to learn more about the Steffan. The story remained interesting throughout.

FLOW - Well paced, not too slow or fast as you gave enough bread crumbs to keep the reader not starved but still hungry for more.

Content - While it was interesting it did not feel very unique especially with the amensia thrope. Only time will tell if you can make your vampires stand out and interesting. Word of advice is don't too heavily rely on the history of the creature in question. Use it as an imprint/template and throw your own interesting twists on them that can be perieved as believable or a unique place to take them. Because if you don't make them unique or interesting you solely rely on the underplots, settings and characters themselves to completely carry the story. Not impossible or hard for some but it is worth mentioning.

Typos - Did not see any through my first read through.

Characters - Steffan not much given about him but this is to be expected given you chose to lay the ground work of the world and underplots over character development in this chapter. Though we obviously get a lot of character development from Steffan I feel as if Stephan should have know a vampire's first feeding would be hard for one to resist blood lust. I know this was important for Steffan but Stephan for one as wise and old as he says he is that was really really stupid on his part.

Well that is all I have gathered from this chapter I have THROUGHLY ENJOYED IT. I hope to see more if it don't take this to hard this is a good story but my suggestion to you is to find your own lane with the source material be as creative as possible if you want to be seperate yourself from the hundreds of other vampire writers

June 3rd, 2015, 12:33 AM
Awesome. I saw your post above that said mod, please delete," and thought you were referring to my entire post. I am certainly glad that was not the case.

I am also overjoyed that you enjoyed it that much. Thank you very much for your feedback.

Trust me, as one of the readers for many of those other vampire books, I am well aware of the danger of writing in this genre. I hope that my writing will distinguish itself on its own merits.

The first feeding. Stephen actually did expect Steffen to lose some control, which is the reason why he warned him in the first place. Steffen lost sight of Stephen when he started to stalk Chelsea, but Stephen was right there behind him. Stephen expected that he would be able to step in and restrain Steffen if he were not able to control himself, but was caught off guard when Steffen struck him with such force.

Chapter 2 will take up immediately where this one left off.

June 3rd, 2015, 04:10 AM
Not sure if you have read the Vampire diaries but I am sure on the main characters has a very similar name to the two main characters so far. So keep in mind people will try to make comparsions but I would just change the names but not sure of your attachment to the names so I digress. Also for future reference as writers we are suppose to carter a little to our fans but always be diverse enough to appeal to at least different kinds of people, its the mark of a great writer at least in my opinion. I would try and stay away from the edgy, brooding vampire with a dark and blood past as to me at least it CAN be done but should it when so many others have literally nailed the door almost completely shut....probably not. So far it has not seemed edgy which I am happy for because I was hopeing (seriously I was) that he would not put on some always flowing black cloak that shines in darkness or whatever teen sap bullshit people can think up to appeal to teenage girls from age 12-19.

June 3rd, 2015, 12:10 PM
No, I have not read the Vampire diaries. I have read a number of other things, but the whole YA genre bores me. This series is not meant to be YA, but very Adult. I am kind of attached to the names, but I will consider what you've said. Steffen also doesn't like his name, and rejects it in the next chapter.

I am going for a dark and gritty work. Steffen is not a hero. He is not intended to be a hero. But he will be badass, and he will wreck a lot of havoc before he's done. This is not a fairy tale for girls. Do not look for a happy ending here.

June 3rd, 2015, 01:46 PM
I am saying that because Vampire Diaries is well huge with spinoffs in the works as we speak. I don't like Vampire Diaries but I read a few of the books to give it a chance but it just felt too edgy with not enough substance to really care about anything in the story. I would think as the average vampire reader (even though you appeal to adults I would imagine you target audience is 18-24 but still Vampire Diaries has been out for a while and most of the teens in that era are adults now and would probably remember at least the main characters.) I would have read a few books just because of the hype alone, Twlight, Vampire Diaries, Interview with a Vampire and etc. Still this is a minor gripe but I am just preparing you for if you try and sell this book what reviewers and publishers might say.

June 3rd, 2015, 02:39 PM
I appreciate the feedback, and I hear what you're saying. I have not really taken into account other popular series and how my writing may be similar. I do indeed hope that this book will be good enough to sell at some point. Though I do have to admit that my main reason for writing this book (and hopefully an entire trilogy, at least) is to learn the craft of writing novels. My true genre of choice is high epic fantasy, and I have some ideas in that direction, but I want to learn how to be an author before I try to tackle those dreams.

Brian A Seals
June 4th, 2015, 01:52 AM
Hey, it's Seals. Good stuff, man...

Please allow me to throw in a few thoughts.

"You are strong, and you use your gifts naturally," said a deep, resonant voice. "This is good." A pause for a moment. Then, "I am going to turn on the light."

Here, you might want to try starting with, A deep, resonant voice said...

If you do that, your reader will know what type of voice is speaking, before the words are read. It's basically fine the way it is now, but I think the other option is still something to consider.

He flipped the switch on the wall beside the door. The overhead light turned on, filling the room with harsh, glaring light. It stung his eyes, which had become accustomed to the darkness. He had to close his eyes for a moment, and then blink them repeatedly until his eyes adjusted. Even with the light, everything was tinged red.

"He flipped the switch on the wall beside the door."... Unless I'm misreading it, you're using 'He' to refer to Stephen at first, as the one turning on the light. Then you use 'his' and 'He' to refer to Steffen, immediately afterward. This confused me a little bit. It's an understandable situation though, since at first, we are not aware of the characters names. You then use "the stranger", to refer to Stephen before he is formally introduced. This is a good idea, and I'd suggest using it earlier, even right at the beginning of this passage, just to make it clear who is who.

So he stopped fighting, and he...embraced it. Accepted it. It sensed his acceptance, and stopped attacking. There in his imagination, he gathered it into his arms, and held it tight. He pulled it into him, accepted it as part of himself. He joined them together into one. One mind. One body. One soul. He was whole.

I want to make you aware of your stylistic choices, in case this writing is natural to you and you don't think about it. You use a lot of sentence fragments here, in order for the text to read in a certain way. This is okay, as long as you like it, and you don't mind that you seem to be giving your writing in third person, a character of its own. What I mean is, I normally see third-person writing as a vehicle, to tell a story from an omniscient perspective. That third person voice is not a character per se, and its jarring to me personally, when it starts describing things with a style such as this. I'm used to that perspective being more plain and proper; it isn't invisible, but it doesn't attract so much attention to itself.

That's your choice as an author though. If I was writing this in third, I'd write: "He joined them together into one. They were one mind, one body and one soul. He was finally whole."

Those are my honest thoughts. Overall, I found it to be enjoyable, in all honesty. I read that you're thinking of rearranging this, and it's fine if you want to start it with more action. For what it's worth however, the story pulled me along, to the end just fine. It's good.

One final note: You may want to consider posting the rest in another forum. There is a small notification above this forum, cautioning others that want to publish their work. It seems this section is open to non-members and subject to search engines. Just thought you should know...


June 4th, 2015, 02:18 AM
Thanks Brian. I appreciate the feedback. I have been told before about the Confusing He's at the beginning of this chapter. Once I complete the first draft of the novel, I imagine that there will be a lot of changes, including the possible rearrangement of the order of the chapters. This chapter will be one of the first that I revise/rewrite. This story has been kicking around in my head, literally, for years. I was home sick from work one day, though I was logged in remotely, and I just opened up a text document and started writing.

I feel that my writing is becoming stronger the more I write. So by the time I get to the end of this book, I should be able to do a much stronger version of what is already here.

The fragment thing is stylistic choice. I write that way on purpose. I do like it very much, and you'll see a lot of it through this book, depending on how much of it I post up.

Also, thank you for the advice about the forum. I somehow missed that note about it being open to search engines, though I did see the forums that are for members only earlier tonight. I find that a very good idea to move the rest of this to another forum. I'll probably move over to the Beta Readers Group Fiction forum.

I do hope to sell this story some day, though it will be a while. I currently have approximately 55k words written in 11 chapters. I feel like I'm probably less than half way there, and it's taken me 6 months to get this far.

Thanks again for the feedback.

Brian A Seals
June 4th, 2015, 02:50 AM
No problem. You're welcome Brian. Keep at it.

A. Baderkhan
June 8th, 2015, 06:22 PM
amazing one !

September 2nd, 2015, 12:33 AM
I'm a little dismayed just at myself because I'm already a little biased against this, just because it's a vampire story. Don't get me wrong, I love Dracula and the Vampire's Assistant and Supernatural and Van Helsing and - well that's the thing. There's so much to list that has to do with vampires. Please don't be upset at my light bigotry! That all being said, I really like this piece. I did not read all of it, just up to the break made out of asterisks and such, but it's very original - especially when considering the sheer number of stories that have been told about these creatures of the night. One thing I implore of you: Please do not believe that the sheer mention of blood is enough to raise the hair on the back of everybody's necks. You didn't have a crazy amount of gore, so I don't really think this is a problem you have. Just remember that a little bit of gore is shocking, but a lot of gore is annoying and can get stale.

Good luck with your story, I'm really liking what I've read so far.