Dylan Vorcla slowly opened his eyes - and then quickly squeezed them shut, unprepared for the excruciating assault of blinding, actinic light that seared his retinas. It was daytime, around noon. The sun hung directly overhead and blazed straight down the "chimney" of the dungeon.
The dungeon...
He frowned. He was lying on his back, naked, on the floor. His memories were disjointed, scrambled. He couldn't remember last night. Something had happened to him - something terrible. He remembered battling a hideous bat-winged creature, remembered the elation of badly wounding it, of tasting its blood, and the frustration of watching the monster turn into a mist and escape through the bars of the cell door.
Then he remembered falling, falling, and...nothing.
Slowly, imperceptibly, his eyelids flickered open.
Dylan gasped.
It was as if he was seeing the world for the first time, through new eyes. His eyesight was supernaturally sharp, like a combination of telescopic and microscopic vision rolled into one. He could clearly see a gnat crawling along a stone fifty feet up the side of the wall, could see its compound eyes and the fine veins in its tiny gossamer wings. He could see minute details and imperfections in the rock - glittering crystals of mica, nearly invisible hairline cracks.
Then the gnat flew away, and he could hear the flutter of its wings.
He turned his head toward the source of the sound. His eyes locked in on a small, silver droplet of water dripping from a small pipe embedded in the stone wall. The drop seemed to fall in slow motion and splashed on the floor…
THRUMMMM.........
Another globule drifted down and exploded.
THRUMMMM.........
"Jesus!" he cried.
The noise that sounded like the tromping of a massive saurian foot was the sound of a bead of water splattering on the stone floor!
What was wrong with him? His hearing and eyesight had always been extremely acute, but now…
His memories untangled then, and he cried out in anguish.
Werewolf!
He was a werewolf, like his father before him. It was all true. It explained many things.
Like why he wasn’t dead after falling almost forty feet and smashing onto a stone floor. His body must have healed itself overnight, because, except for the headache, he felt fine. Wonderful, even.
The faint, cloying stench of the onset of decay assailed his nostrils. He remembered…
Mel!
He sat up on the floor and scrambled quickly to his feet. He turned…
Her naked body was pale as chalk from head to toe, cold and stiff, stretched out on the black altar slab. Her coppery hair, which usually shone like a new penny, was dull and lifeless. Her eyes were wide open; their beautiful cornflower blue color was gone, however, occluded by an opaque, milky film. Her lips were forever frozen in a tiny “O” of terror.
She was unmarked, except for the twin puncture marks on her throat.
LaGory…
Dylan’s legs buckled, and he went to his knees, staring in disbelief. He could feel himself crumpling inside. His mind was on fire, screaming in denial. Numbed by shock, he crawled across the stone floor and pulled himself up on the side of the altar.
He stroked her hair.
“It’ll be okay, baby,” he crooned. “Look, when we get back home, we’ll have to finish college, I know. But as soon as we’re out, I want to get married. Besides, I’ll be half-crazy waiting for you by then.” Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he forced a chuckle. “You…. c-can’t expect me to be a saint forever, you know!”
He kissed her icy forehead.
“You always liked for me to sing your song to you, remember? The one I wrote for you? ‘Melissa’s Song?’ Would you like to hear it now, honey?”
Dylan cleared his throat and began to sing in a quavering, whispery voice, all
the while caressing her cheek.
“Melissa sings a song of thanks for sunshine,
Takin' all her troubles right in stride.
Smilin' eyes for everyone who meets her,
Shinin' with the love she feels inside.
Wakin' to each crystal day with a joy th…”
He broke off with a choked sob as the cruel irony of it hit home. Melissa would not wake to a crystal day again.
Not ever.
She was dead.
The tenuous filament that held his emotions together unraveled. He collapsed atop her, weeping uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking.
“C’mon, B-Baby,” he sobbed. “Wake up. Please w-wake up, Mel! Oh, God! Oh, God – this is my fault! I shouldn’t have let you c-come with me. What will I tell your Mom and Dad?”
He gripped her hands tightly, as if he could somehow infuse life back into her by his sheer force of will. He held on until his fingers grew numb and trembled.
Then he let go.
“No…”
An image brutally flashed in his mind with razor-keen clarity. LaGory, his smirking face smeared with Melissa’s blood, leering in triumph at him.
“LaGory…” It came out as a moan.
Then he began to shake. Rage flooded through him. A red mist swam before his eyes; he could feel the fury swelling inside him, expanding, until he thought it would burst through his taut, stretched skin.
And then it did.
The moan became an agonized scream as his body shifted and reformed.
And grew.
Shaggy fur bristled all over him, and fangs and talons sprouted.
“LaGORRRYYYYYYYYY!!!!”
This time it was a roar that ended in a deep howl.
The Wolf stood next to the altar, exulting in his power, his rage. He quickly clambered up the wall of the cell and scrambled onto the ledge by the cell door. He would tear them all limb from limb, rip out their throats, feed on their flesh…
Somewhere inside the murderous mind of the beast, Dylan Vorcla frantically fought for control.
And won.
‘No! This won’t work – not now. This is not the time!’
His chest heaving, the werewolf slowly reverted back to his human self, little by little, until Dylan Vorcla once again stood by the door. He almost smiled.
He had controlled the transformation! That meant he could use it to his advantage. Interesting...
He peered through the bars.
One of LaGory’s black-clad henchmen stood in a crossing corridor, staring in puzzlement toward the oaken door. Dylan faded back from the barred window.
Then he almost gasped aloud. He could hear it in his mind, as clearly as if it was a voice speaking to him.
‘What in bloody ‘ell was that noise? Sounded like a lion roaring. Should I investigate?’
He was reading the man’s thoughts! He could sense his hesitation.
‘I haven’t heard it again. Maybe it was my imagination. Besides, that’s the kind of thing Leon or some high muckety-muck like him should take care of. The Master won’t awaken for hours.’
Dylan could sense the man’s mental shrug as he walked away. He let out a slow breath. So LaGory hadn’t been exaggerating. The vampire side of his heritage had come into full bloom after his Change last night. Another valuable lesson learned.
Dylan rubbed his eyes. He was spent. The Change obviously had taken a lot out of him, as had the self-regenerative process that had healed his injuries from the fall. He needed to rest, then after that, to plan his next move.
He glanced down, and his heart leaped into his throat.
Melissa…
He climbed back down into the cell, blinded by tears. He still couldn’t believe she was dead, nor could he fathom the brutal way that she had been killed. He was too tired to think about it anymore.
Dylan climbed up onto the altar slab and stretched out next to the body of his beloved Melissa, pulling her close. He kissed her softly on the cheek and closed his eyes. Numb with grief, exhausted beyond caring, he quickly fell asleep…
*****
“Get him! Get that tranquilizer in him!”
Rough hands hauled a groggy, half-asleep Dylan off the altar slab. Before he could come fully awake, he felt the sting of a hypodermic needle in his neck.
Within seconds he was paralyzed, able only to blink, swallow and breathe.
LaGory stood next to the altar, wrapped in a black cloak. He smiled his sardonic, fanged smile.
“Ancient family recipe, from an apothecary in Targoviste. The effects are temporary. Works rather like curare, from what I understand, except you can still breathe. Won’t suffocate. Manacle him.”
Four of LaGory’s acolytes lifted Dylan up and laid him spread eagled on an operating table. Silver cuffs were latched over his wrists and ankles. They burned like acid, but Dylan didn’t have voice enough to scream.
A scarlet fog billowed into the room, drifting slowly toward the Vampire Master.
The mist coalesced into the stunning, naked forms of what appeared to be three beautiful young women. One was a silky blonde, another had short red curls, while the third had long, straight black hair. They were all very alluring and seductive, and looked to be no more than twenty to twenty five years old at the most.
But their skin was too pale, as white as alabaster, and their lips were the color of blood. They stared hungrily at Dylan with garnet-red eyes.
“Allow me to introduce my brides, Dylan,” LaGory said, almost conversationally. “The blonde girl is Hilde, Jennifer is the redhead, and Sonya is my raven-haired beauty. Sonya has been with me for over 250 years, and I’ve been married to Hilde for 63 years. Jennifer has only been here a month; she is…was a local girl.”
The vampire leaned over and ran his fingers through Melissa’s hair.
“I had four brides until a week or so ago,” LaGory went on. “My lovely Marina was cornered and slain by a vampire hunter. I destroyed him, but I couldn’t save my sweet girl.” He smiled at Dylan. “But tonight we rejoice, for my brides will welcome a new sister to my harem. It is time to awaken my little Melissa!”
He stretched out his arms, and the three vampiresses peeled the cloak from his body. He was naked underneath.
Dylan’s mouth worked, but he could only manage a hoarse croak.
“What’s that, boy? You’ll have to speak up. I take it you don’t like it.”
“Nu-uh-uh!"
LaGory snickered. “My good young man, you are going to have to enunciate if you expect me to understand you.” His eyes glittered like rubies. “Now watch closely.”
The Vampire Master slashed his wrist with a thumbnail. A stream of blood dribbled into Melissa’s mouth. The signs of decay slowly receded from her body. Dylan watched, horrified and speechless, as her entire body convulsed. She gagged and retched, and then coughed wetly.
Then she drank greedily, eagerly swallowing LaGory’s blood.
She was as pale and white now as the vampire’s three brides. Her eyes flickered open. She blinked, confused, and for just a moment, she was Dylan’s sweet Melissa. She glanced over at him and smiled.
“Dylan?” she asked.
Then her face rippled and transformed. Her smile became a feral snarl, exposing long, sharp fangs, and her eyes turned into pools of blood.
When she spoke, her voice was a dry, rattling hiss that echoed of the grave.
“Dyyyyyylllllaaannnnnnnn! ”
To be continued…
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"I wanted revenge - whenever somebody kills me, I tend to get a little upset..."
Another excellent chapter, Rick. I couldn't find a thing to pick at.
It's interesting how Vorcla's learning the new things about himself, sort of like a baby learning to walk. A big, hairy, fearsome baby, but still. The details you use bring the story to life very well.
Mel, is back. The next chapter should be interesting. I got a chill at the ending. Can't wait to see what happens!
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Go vote on a challenge or will eat you!
Quote:
Oh...you...you...you BIG BAD WOLF! Bad girl! You go potty on the paper! BAD Girl!!!
Oh man, heartwrenching. I love the harem already and I've only just met them. Moving on to slightly more important things.
The 'thrums' at the beginning were amazing, the likeness to the strumming of a guitar coupled with his mental complex and the song were great. Your use of themes and motifs there, of music mainly, is key. It almost adds a soundtrack to the scene, a softness that else wise would make a cold encounter frigid.
His discovery of his powers entwined with his thoughts about what's going on was also interesting. At times your narrator almost becomes Dylan. The line "Interesting..." after he figures out the extent of his powers is a great example of that. It really brings things to life and you can actually feel as if you're inside their minds without the fourth wall. Very nice.
A great slowdown with a terrifying finish. Looking forward to more, as always.
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"If we were in Gotham City, you'd wear leather and kiss Batman while I robbed a bank."
Thanks, Jim. I thought it was important to show how Dylan becomes aware of his new abilities. It was necessary to slow things down a bit to do that, but I tried to keep it interesting and entertaining as well. Your comments are always welcome.
Kara - you know how much I value your input as well. Ha - yes, hopefully the harem is sufficiently hot. They have a bit more to do in the next section, when they "initiate" their new sister into the fold. And yes - I tried for heartwrenching. As you mentioned, trying to humanize Dylan - he's not just a hairy beast.
I tried to imagine the situation. Here's an 18 year old boy. Yes, he's pretty self-reliant, but he's still a kid. All of a sudden he's thrust into this situation "Your Daddy was a werewolf, your Mama's got vampire blood in her, and you're a Wolf/Vamp hybrid. Oh - and you turn into a raging, hairy monster under the full moon." Then his beautiful girlfriend is coldly, brutally slain right before his eyes. He's lucky he didn't crack up totally. As mentioned, it was a slowdown, but I tried to perk it up a bit with Dylan Changing into the Wolf, and then overcoming the Change. And of course, the scary ending of the section. Hopefully, if this was a movie, it would make you jump! And I tried to sort of merge the narrator into Dylan. Glad you caught that. As always, greatly appreciated.
Thanks again to both of you!
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"I wanted revenge - whenever somebody kills me, I tend to get a little upset..."
I agree about the beginning, very engaging, very cinematic. I like. ^_^ Another stellar enstallment, and I can't wait to find out how dylan's going to get out of this one. ^_^ Sorry I don't have more to say, but it's basically all been said. To the next part.
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Your battles inspired me - not the obvious material battles
but those that were fought and won behind your forehead.
Just wanted to pop in and let you know I was still following this
__________________
"Money doesn't talk, it swears." -Bob Dylan
"Expect nothing. Live frugally on surprise." -Alice Walker
"I don't know if I can live on my income or not - the government won't let me try it." -Bob Thaves
Quote:
Originally Posted by Wordsmyth
See I'm not worried at all. Bri would save the alcohol and her wolfman in the process.
The set up reformat was a boon leading into retcaptured snips then this...
He broke of with a choked sob as the cruel irony of it hit home. Melissa would not wake to a crystal day again.
Quote:
Not ever.
She was dead
Most powerful, espcially after the half choked song.
Really enjoyable and torture to come for Dylan regarding Melissa, now well, you showed us her now.......damn shame lol Have gone off Lagory, am rooting for Dylan.
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What about saying that ‘flashes of memory,’ instead of just saying that…He remembered battling a hideous bat-winged creature,(?) You know, show his flashes of thoughts?
You have a spacing error here…whispery voice, all the while caressing her cheek.
Did you intend ‘off,’ He broke (off) with a choked sob as the cruel irony of it hit home.(?)
This seems awkward to have both ‘altar’ and ‘slab.’ Rough hands hauled a groggy, half-asleep Dylan off the altar slab. Or are you making it a possessive (asleep Dylan off the altar’s slab?)
Again, there is a spacing error with your second two last sentence….When she spoke, her voice was a dry, rattling hiss that echoed of the grave. (Did you intend…that echoed off the grave.(?))
Another GREAT installment you have here!
And another rating of 4/5!
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Did you intend ‘off,’ He broke (off) with a choked sob as the cruel irony of it hit home.(?)
Yes. He "broke off" (stopped) singing.
Quote:
Originally Posted by RENA HANDS;
This seems awkward to have both ‘altar’ and ‘slab.’ Rough hands hauled a groggy, half-asleep Dylan off the altar slab. Or are you making it a possessive (asleep Dylan off the altar’s slab?)
No - no possessive. "Altar" in this case is used as an adjective describing "slab." It's fine the way it is.
Quote:
Originally Posted by RENA HANDS;
Again, there is a spacing error with your second two last sentence….When she spoke, her voice was a dry, rattling hiss that echoed of the grave. (Did you intend…that echoed off the grave.(?))
No - "echoed of" is used to mean "sounded like." You have to try to look past the literal meanings and see the figurative ones. I try to be metaphorical.
Quote:
Originally Posted by RENA HANDS;
Another GREAT installment you have here!
And another rating of 4/5!
Thank you - but what do I have to do to get 5/5?!
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"I wanted revenge - whenever somebody kills me, I tend to get a little upset..."
Of course every week i have to read one of your stories and i'm glad i did today. There is nothing to say except you did a fine job in this chapter as you did with your previous. and you left us with enough suspense and twists to keep us hunger for more.
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My penmanship is hardpressed / with wordy
weight / hurried and broken / unpracticed, unscripted / untamed
I figured I had to say something besides the usual "Good Job" and what not. After all, you've practically had to wade through nine or ten pieces of my crappy writing ^.^
Quote:
He had controlled the transformation! That meant he could use it to his advantage. Interesting...
I don't know, this seemed out of place when I read it over a few times. Dylan seemed depressed, even hysterical, then has this perfectly rational thought.. then is back to being depressed? It seemed to cut through the gloomy atmosphere, which you returned to right after.
Now I can say good job, bravo, simply amazing. Rating... 9.4/10. Can't wait to get to the next part.
__________________ "I generally sleep, eat, and sleep when I get tired of the other two..."
Thanks, Corey. As far as Dylan's thought about controlling the transformation, it's more a glimmer of hope than a lifting of his mood; it temporarily takes his mind off it. Because he's still there with Melissa's corpse.
Thanks again for the read and comment.
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"I wanted revenge - whenever somebody kills me, I tend to get a little upset..."
Oh, I liked the slight break into insanity on Dylan's part. If my loved one died so suddenly and strangly like that, that's how I'd feel...perhaps? who knows. lol
Another great chapter. Experiencing Dylan's Transformation from LaGory's perspective was good but here, from Dylan's viewpoint is even more effective. I can 'feel' his wonder, delight, and then later his horror at finding Melissa and seeing what happens to her. Nicely done.
My only comment, more my own response is some of the words that I needed to look up, broke the flow a bit in reading. I suppose I should brush up on my own vocabulary
You don't really need me to edit your work, and any attempt to do so would be like a naive child telling his daddy not to curse because it's bad. You know what you are doing, and you do it well, and really as long as you can get a solid of enough plot and take the time to flesh it out correctly... you can fly. I truly believe you can fly. You could spread your wings.... and fly away. Fly away. Fly... away.
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will eat you!
Re: Dylan Vorcla: First Moon (Part 4)
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa! Sorry, hon...
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