Wednesday 23 June 2010

Writing Exercise . . . Random Sentences . . .

Flicking through an old pad, I come across a piece that I vaguely remember writing a few years back. I can't remember what the actual exercise was, but there are two notes written at the top of the page:

"Our vampires are different . . ."
"Coiled within the shadows . . ."

I'm not sure where these came from. They may have been random phrases pulled out of the hat, so to speak, and so had to be Incorporated into a piece. Who knows. anyway, here was the outcome of that exercise . . .

Exercise: Random Sentences . . .

Everything he saw was covered in a thick, sticky layer of dirt. It coated his finders as he brushed them carefully down the bare wooden banister. It felt rough to touch and he removed his hand in fear of a splinter. Cobwebs hung in between the spindles, and each wooden step creaked under the pressure of his weight.

He hadn't imagined the lab to be like this. He had imagined it to be tended and well kept, but then he hadn't seen the professor in a long time. A dank smell wafted into his nose, dust attacking his senses, and he fought back an urge to sneeze. Now wasn't the time or the place to announce his presence.

Not seeing the professor for long periods of time was nothing uncommon. He always locked himself in his lab, working of something. Only his screams of despair or his odd cheers of success indicated that he was still there, but this time it was different. He had been silent for three weeks now - too silent.

It wasn't right.

The professor was Edgar's uncle, forced into guardianship by the sudden and shocking death of his parents. He didn't remember much about his parents, and had been brought up under the strict rule of 'ask no questions.'

He never did.

He had never even been down in the lab before, a lab that had been built in the huge cellar of the house, but now he needed to. He needed to know if his uncle was alright. Silently and dubiously, Edgar reached the bottom of the stairs and slunk over to the desk in the middle of the room. His uncles journals lay open, and he couldn't;t help his eyes as they scanned over the hand-scrawled words. They told of scientific experiments, of failures and successes, but one sentence struck him with horror.

"Our vampires are different . . ."


Something shuffled behind him. Terrified that he had been caught reading something top secret, he whirled around, his lungs gasping for frightened breath.

And there, coiled in the shadows, was a figure. It had an inhuman feel about it and instantly Edgar began to tremble. When he called his uncle's name, no response came, and he began to fear the worst.

But his fear was short lived.

As the creature burst from the shadows, fangs gleaming in the dim light, he knew what his uncle had been doing. He knew his uncle was no more, and knew that this man-made thing had devoured him.

He also knew in that split second that he was about to suffer the same fate.

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