It was a wonderful movie, full of history, however sometimes skewed for the story’s purpose. I really want to go see it again. Just the IDEA of a Founding Father kicking vampires’ ass is epic to me. The story itself was very well done, though the story was…for the most part predictable, even with the unknown-Vampire-part of it.
I don’t want to spoil it for anyone but man. Go see it. Now. It’s an all-around good time. I saw it in 3D and I normally hate 3D but this was wonderfully done. The action scenes especially were extravagant and there were many, many times I was wide-eyed at the stunts Mr. Lincoln was pulling off. I believe axes are now one of my favorite weapons in killing supernatural beings. 😉
Now, moving along, to celebrate the sight of vampires getting pummeled and slashed with a former President’s axe and fists, I present to you a little story I wrote for my college newspaper entitled The Vampire’s Mistake. This story will be posted in installments. It will be under the Category: Short Stories.
A Vampire’s Mistake
He had watched her for several nights now, all the anticipation to claim her boiling in his very blood. But he had to be patient…had to wait…for his master had several uses for the woman. Yes, his master wanted her to be his next “Child” as it were. And he, Vincent VanHorne was the one chosen of all the vampires in the coven to undergo this most precious task….
The brown and golden leaves fell in between branches of trees as her heels clicked brusquely against the stone of the road. A whistling wind pierced his ears then, sending her dark hair flying behind her, whipping at the dark sky as though making one last desperate protest to still what would happen…what must happen….
He removed himself from the shade of the tree in that moment, just as the tail of her blood red scarf whipped by him, its fabric becoming entangled in the roughness of the tree’s bark. She stilled at once and turned to see what impeded her from continuing on, her bright blue eyes widening at the sight of her scarf, the pale hand that had already claimed it…. She stepped closer to him as he held the scarf, her body tense beneath her long coat, the collar turned up to grace her soft chin….
“Excuse me,” he said carefully, keeping his eyes upon her. “Your scarf seems to have gotten caught. Allow me.” And he released the scarf from his hand allowing it to hover bizarrely in the air as though it were a noose meant to squeeze itself around her very throat—
They both turned to eye the emerging figure of the man as he moved closer to where they stood. Remaining couples moved along the path, walking quickly to escape the grace of the chilling winds, the dried leaves being swept up in their hair, underneath their shoes….
“Jessica,” the man said again once he had reached her. The scarf had long since dropped completely and hung around her neck, limp, unmoving, and then the man was wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders, his eyes searching her frantically for any sign of injury, any embellishment to her person. When finally satisfied that there were none, he gazed up at the man before him, taking in his sleek blond hair, his eyes so seemingly alive with malice, the whiteness of his skin. “Who are you?”
“Tom, it’s fine,” she said, her voice quiet, reassuring against the hollow wind. This night was relentless, it seemed. “Please, he was just helping me – my scarf got caught on the tree—”
“Is that so?” Tom said, disbelieving, still staring daggers upon the man before him.
“It is so,” Vincent said at last, glaring upon this human man with well-contained anger. He could reach forward and snap his neck from his spine, oh yes, he could. He could merely reach forth and bite her before the man had a chance to pull him off, quite right, that he could do. But surely, was it worth it? He was told not to allow anyone else into his work…it would mean another body to dispose of, surely, surely it was not worth it. Yes, he decided silently, staring adamantly upon the man, he would have to pull back…wait one more night to carry out his master’s burning wish….
Before either of them could speak, he took a single step back along a pile of leaves that someone had raked together earlier that day. He inclined his head forward, and said, “I apologize for any…inconvenience my appearance may have caused. I shall leave you now….” And before either of them could say anything in way of thanks, or perhaps ridicule, he had turned from them, and disappeared as a harsh wind pressed against them both.
She merely blinked, not understanding where he had gone. “Tom,” she breathed, holding him tight as the appearance of the strange man had sent pure shivers of discontentment through her entire body, “did he…did he just vanish…into — into thin air?”
He looked down upon her, and admiring her blue eyes, lifted a finger to stroke her chin, while he replied, “Nonsense, my dear, no man can simply vanish into thin air. How ridiculous.” And before she could speak, he gently pulled her along the path, an arm wrapped around his waist, his own secure arm wrapped around her shoulders keeping her close.
For she would not escape his grip this night, he thought it with a slow smile. As another brazen wind picked up blowing against them both, sending her black hair to fly from her, his own to tangle together atop his head, he opened his mouth to allow the glimmer of two sharp fangs to pierce the night.
The Vampire would pay for his mistake, he thought with pleasure as they walked together in a direction far from home.