[Sith Lord Jim]

"Vampires, it is always fucking vampires," the priest muttered darkly under his breath. He moved slowly through the club, trying not to look disgusted. They made him sick. He could not wait till the day when they were all burning in hell. He did not look out of place in his trench coat. That was all these "people" wore. The dancing was frantic and hypnotic fitting perfectly with the frantic and hypnotic music. The lighting was just as frantic. Blood sprayed disgustingly from sprinklers above. He sat on a stool at the bar and stared at his prey. Paul Darato was not your ordinary priest. The few people who actually knew what he did called him Kesef after the which is the angel of violence and destruction. Most of them were not real vampires. It was too difficult to tell the difference from a distance. The fakes got fangs put in. The real ones grew them.

Kesef considered what to do as he did not want to kill people that were just messed up. "Fuck it," he muttered as he yanked a grenade out of his pocket. He ripped the pin out and threw it with a vengeance, the look of madness upon his face. He was not crazy. He was just getting even. The grenade blew up raining pain on the unsuspecting vampires. A third of the crowd died in the heat from the blast. Everyone began to run. No one knew what had happened. The Vampyric bouncers whipped out machine guns and prevented anyone from leaving. They were going to check for fangs before they let people out. So they had heard about him. It did not matter he was not ready to leave anyway. Kesef entered the confusion violently. He withdrew his own guns. Two silver desert eagles. He took out the bouncers first. Their bullets missed him by far as they went down under a hailstorm of bullets. He then began to work his way through the rest of the crowd. They smashed through the door and poured out into the street. Soon the Vampyric club was empty.

He walked over to the bodies, for he knew bullets would not kill real vampires. It was one of his few ways of telling the real vampires. They were the ones still breathing. He pulled a sword out from a hidden sheath in his coat. He then maliciously decapitated the vampires that lay on the ground injured but not killed. He calmly walked to the door. Kesef glanced back at his handy work, vampire corpses lay all over the place, there was blood everywhere and most of it was not from the sprinklers. He walked out and got in his car.

The police would have some fun getting around that one. The deaths would be reported, but they could not really talk about vampire nightclubs without saying that they existed. And they did not want to lose all credibility. They had gone around it before and they would again.

Paul got home and hung up his coat. He surveyed his small house. It was meticulously clean just how he liked it. He would have a quick micro waved dinner and then get to work. He had a sermon to prepare for tomorrow. It was after all just a normal night. After Paul had finished writing his sermon on the sin nature of man, he got into bed said his prayers and went to sleep.

The ancient vampire studied the old manuscript by candlelight. It said: 'There shall be one sent from hell.'

He will have within him the kith of Satan.
He shall unite us and defeat those who torment us.
None will be able to stand against him and prevail.
He will fight the warrior priest and will win.
The priest will burn in hell instead of him.
He will come soon.
Prepare his path for him and he will bless you"


It was an old vampire legend that had been around since the 1500s. He knew it would soon be fulfilled. As the warrior priest described, it had already appeared. His brotherhood of vampire priests had been around for just as long as the legend waiting for the one to appear so that they could help him. The time was very near.

The service went off without a hitch. Paul had lunch at a member of the congregation's house. Then the priest stopped by the graveyard on his way home. He had not visited in a while. His excuse was that he was so busy he forgot. He knew he had not, it was because of this graveyard he hunted them. He stopped in front of the familiar gravestones. His parents and his brother were buried here. According to the police, they had committed suicide. Only because that was easier to explain than Vampires draining them dry. He had been off at Bible College when it had happened. As soon as Paul found out what had really happened, he hunted down the sick motherfucker who did it and he shot him in the stomach. He figured that it would die of blood loss. He did not believe in actual vampires. He thought they were just sick bastards who drank blood for fun. How ignorant he was. Of course when he found out they were real, Kesef tracked his family's killer back down and shoved a stake through its heart, decapitated it, and burned the body. He was not taking chances.

Paul got home and started his research. The Internet has a wealth of information on vampires and what they are up to. He went to one of the online vampire communities and logged in under a fake name. He checked the forum for anything interesting. Oh, here was one about him. He read, "The man who keeps turning up and killing us must be the priest mentioned in the legend. No one else has ever done so much damage to us as a community." That would suck for him. He then continued his search for information. Paul found that there was a large event at a nearby city in a week. He would have to stay in a hotel there, but he had been saving money for an opportunity like this. It was at another Vampire club; America was becoming full of them.

The human strode purposefully into the darkness of the dungeon. The vampire appeared from nowhere. It was faster than any vampires he had seen. Suddenly it was on the human in front of him. The blood dripped from his mouth as he stood over the mangled body laughing maniacally. The body was his, he realized just as he woke up suddenly. Paul was covered in sweat. "Stupid nightmares!" Kesef shouted. It was the same dream he had dreamt for three months now.

The time had arisen. The vampire priests stood around in the darkened cemetery speaking in an ancient demonic tongue. Daragar emerged from a swirling vortex of pain and darkness, from hell itself. Where he would soon send the priest who was called Kesef. This priest must be a fool to take on such a name. He could never live up to it.

The priest was enjoying a night walk. He wore his trench coat, just in case. Paul pondered the dream. It did not make sense to him. There were no dungeons in America. The moon shone brightly just before a cloud covered it. "Shit! It's a full moon." Kesef spat. Just what he needed was to get attacked by a werewolf. Vampires were not the only thing about. There were always the werewolves. Unlike some movies, which would have you believe there was no great war between them and vampires. They kept to themselves. The only time they would bother people was when there was a full moon.

He pulled his coat up as he walked through the deserted alleyways. There was an evilness that hung in the air like the smell of rotting flesh. He heard a scratching in the next alley. Great, he was not prepared for werewolves. Paul did the only thing he could; he turned and fled. He heard footsteps behind him. They were closing in. He ran around a corner and smashed into an immovable force. He had run into it. The werewolf stood menacingly. It prepared to bite his jugular vein out. Kesef rolled to the side and withdrew his sword. He slashed across the side of it then kicked it a few feet away. He knew it would not do much. So he clambered to his feet and withdrew his desert eagles. Kesef started firing into the werewolf. It would not do anything except slow it down. He then ran. He saw a department store coming up on his right. There was a silver vase in the window.

"That will work," he gasped. He shot the window out and grabbed the vase. Fumbling in his pocket, Kesef found a grenade. He pulled the pin shoved it in the vase threw it at the oncoming werewolf and screamed, "Have fun in hell!" just before Kesef dove through the window. Silver shrapnel flew everywhere including into the werewolf.

When Paul first started hunting encounters like this, it would have really disturbed him. Now Kesef just shook it off and went home. It was not the first werewolf he had killed. The police would probably say that the store was robbed and someone tried to stop it and was shot. They would dispose of all evidence. That suited him fine. He could not be touched unless they were willing to admit to the world the existence of creatures superior to man. And they were not.

The day dragged on. Paul found the days boring. Yet he loved every moment of it. The only time they could not mess with his life was during the day. He enjoyed the break from the violence and the nightmares. He spent a good portion of the day studying his Bible and doing other normal priest things at the church. None of the ridding the world of evil, that was for in the dark.

The news of the werewolf killing reached the pack of the deceased quickly. They were angry. They waited for Paul to leave the church where he sat praying. He did not leave till way past sundown. He walked out the door and was crash-tackled instantly by three pack members. Kesef kicked them off and ran back into the church locking the door behind him. He began to panic. They were not supposed to know where his church was. They knew way too much about him. They smashed the door down as if it was a bunch of toothpicks. He had grabbed a book of the bookcase. They stared curiously at him. What was he going to do with a Bible? Kesef opened the case and withdrew a gun from it. They just laughed. That would not hurt them. He levelled the gun at the head of the nearest werewolf and fired three rounds directly at his face. They werewolf collapsed and the rest stood in confusion.

"Suck shit, silver bullets," he explained just as he aimed at the next werewolf. They ran in fright. Kesef could not let them leave not with them knowing where his church was. He charged after them shooting at their backs as they disappeared into the overwhelming darkness. There were now only five of them. He would have to track them down. He called the police and let them fix the mess.

First of all, he needed to prepare. His first stop was a pawnshop on the edge of town. It was a crime-filled, desolate, and rundown area. He walked through the doors and was lead to the back straight away by the eager shop owner. "I got some new stuff just for you, Kesef," the shopkeeper called over his shoulder as he opened a crate. "Here is the ammo, the shotgun, and the grenades you ordered," he said as he pulled out the weaponry and stuck it in a sack for Kesef to carry it. "I need more silver bullets," was Kesef's only reply.

Next stop was picking up his trench coat. He knew a few places packs liked to hang. He would just use process of elimination on both the places and the packs. The first three spots he checked turned up empty. The fourth was a half-built building in the rundown edge of town. They had stopped building it halfway through and it had been vacant. It was dark and ominous. There was no door so he entered and slipped into the shadows. He could hear their voices echoing eerily down the staircase. He waited and listened. "He knew we were coming. Why else would he have silver bullets with him? He must have realized we had a spy on since he killed our poor friend yesterday."

Kesef felt relieved that meant only they knew. He crept up the stairs slowly. Soon he could see them sitting around on the floor at the top of the stairs. His last purchase at the pawnshop had been a silver salad bowl. The vase had worked well, he figured this would work just as well. He threw the salad bowl into the center of the room. The clang it made surprised the werewolves but they had no time to react before the grenade went hurtling into the center of the salad bowl. Kesef was already outside when it went off. They all died in an unholy shower of silver shrapnel.

Kesef stood outside laughing maniacally as the building collapsed. He was beginning to enjoy this. He felt sick. He was getting as bad as them. Guilt ate away at his soul, and he knew it was because he felt guilty for not feeling guilty. Reassuring himself that he was doing the Lord's work, he drove home.

The rest of the week was spent having nightmares and being at church. The nightmares were driving him crazy. They were getting worse. They now showed all the vampires, humans, and werewolves he had ever killed. Then they went on to the bit where he died. The vampire laughed different now. Now he laughed just like Kesef. Like he had after he blew up the building. He felt even worse. Everyone that looked at him seemed to be judging and condemning him.

Sunday came around again. Paul found himself dreading preaching. The guilt was still eating at him. He felt unworthy of preaching. The church was filled, normally there were not many people, but today there was easily two hundred. He stood behind the pulpit, with them all watching him. Rage filled him. It was not his fault they had destroyed his family. He was just making sure it did not happen to other people. Why were they all judging him? They did not know what he had been through. "Are you ok?" They were getting worried; he was just standing there, and his eyes had fire behind them. He looked furious. "No I am not fucking alright," was Kesef's instant response. "Stop judging me! Lets see how you react if your family is killed by vampires. You have no idea the hell I have been through!" he yelled at his now terrified congregation. A slightly braver person called out, "Father Paul, we are not judging you". He yelled back "Shut the fuck up! My name is Kesef." Then he stormed out.

He had no idea what had come over him. Paul could not really go back now. It would take way too much explaining. He packed his bags and started driving for the event. He had stocked up on ammo. He arrived in the town just as it began to get dark. He found himself a hotel room and then drove around town scouting out the area. It was a big place. They had everything including one very shady looking nightclub. He could feel evil radiating out of it. It was a tall dark building painted completely black. It stood next to a foreboding lake which had one jetty attached to it. The vampire meeting was not on till tomorrow night. Kesef went inside; some reconnaissance could not hurt. The dim lurid lighting flickered. The club was mostly empty. The dance floor was as vacant as the bartender's stare. He sat down at the bar and glanced at the bartender's nametag. It read, "Hi my name is Satan". Almost funny. A few vampires sat at the bar, some others sat at tables, conversing quietly. He checked out the exits. There was the entrance door, a bathroom door, and another door that could have led anywhere. From the outside, Kesef had not seen any doors, except the main entrance. Suddenly the hairs on his neck stood on end. He felt a powerful evil and an overwhelming sense of despair. He looked towards the entrance. Shit! It was the vampire from his dream. He fought down the urge to panic. Nothing in the plan had changed. He paid for the beer he had bought and quickly walked out without looking back.

He slowed now that he was outside. The fear left him and the colour came back to his face. When Paul reached the car he fumbled in his pocket for the keys. He heard the big wooden door of the club swing open. The hairs on his neck stood back up. "Hi looking for these?" Paul turned slowly he was shaking all over terrified by the great evil that stood before him. The demonic figure held up Paul's car keys. Paul turned and ran towards the lake next to the club. "Going some where Paul? Or should I say Kesef as you have definitely earned that name for yourself. My brother is proud of you. I will send you to meet him soon. By the way the name is Daragar nice to meet you." Daragar shouted as he ran after Paul. "Are you praying to your weak powerless God yet? You stupid dog" he called mockingly. Paul reached the jetty and was instantly cut off from land by Daragar. Paul fell to the floor at the end of the jetty whimpering and cowering. "Where is your puny God now you pathetic hypocrite?" laughed Daragar. Paul began praying under his breath "Lord I'm sorry please forgive me I have done a lot of shit I shouldn't of. Help me get out of this." Then God answered him. Daragar stepped in front of him and continued to mock Paul, but Paul wasn't listening. "In Jesus's name I bless this water" Paul muttered. "What was that you fool?" Daragar questioned. "God gave me a message for you. He says screw you and burn some more you stupid bastard" With that Paul whipped the sword from it's sheath and sliced through Daragar's legs. His legless body seemed to hang in mid-air for an instant before it fell into the now holy water of the lake. The water sizzled and a smell of charred flesh filled the night sky. The water slowly turned a murky red colour. It was over. He wiped his sword off on the grass and drove home with a smile on his face. God had freed him from the part of him that had been called Kesef. He was finally happy. Happy for the first time since his family had been slaughtered. Paul would keep killing the vampires but only to stop them from killing people, only to make sure that people were safe from the demonic plague he called vampires. The difference was he would put his church and God first, should the church ever forgive him. He now had a sense of purpose to life.

[JirQUEST]

dude, decide between a name: Paul or Van it was quite confusing editing ur story, since i did not know which name u wanted.

great effort, but u could perhaps try and find out more on writing techniques. what u are doing now is, telling ur reader, not showing. that is not one of the fundamental rules of the writing. u are supposed to show, not tell.

an example of show:

He clenched his fists, and his ears reddened. Rachel could see the veins on his face.

an example of tell:

He is angry.

hope that helps, and that it is not too late for comments :p

james dude that is AWSOME, thats heaps good but i have to agree with that guy you tell to much i probely did the same thing but ne ways bit more showing and it will be an excellent story

[blackdeathvodka]

the story isn't bad, but i agree with JirQUEST, it would be better if you had more details because right now, it doesn't quite convey the same feeling as if you were too add more details.
but, all in all, the story is still pretty good, although i have never heard a priest cuss so much.

It is me Jimthestampede but it wont let me post arghh. I have finally kinda finished it. Not really the way i wanted to but anyways i kinda rushed the end out. So enjoy and please your critizism and or compliments are most welcome and appreciated.
Jimmy

[Storiesmaniac]

hey hey nice story

[Telling Times]

I thought this was a nice piece. It had some unoriginal content and read a bit like some of the fiction put out by White Wolf for their Hunter: The Reckoning game line. This didn't however make it any less a compelling read.

You did tend to tell a lot, and not show much but I despite having studied creative writing never bought into the show and tell idea as much as I probably should have. If a piece is told through a character's eyes, as this clearly is and is (although in third person) about one character's thoughts and feelings too much show makes it read too flowery. People don't think in, "I saw his eyes lids flicker slightly, his lips twisting into a disgruntled sneer." They think, "Wow...that guy is sneering at me" and it came accross to me, at least that you tell more than you show deliberately.

There's a great short story by Michel Marshall Smith told from the point of view of a guy who lives in a small mid-western town, where it's all 'shooting the breeze' and simple language and description and it adds to the narrative of the story by giving a better idea of character rather than description. The character in this really did remind me of it.

From a plot point of view I think you could have missed the whole werewolf episode out. It didn't really add anything to the character or the story, nor did it act as a hook. A sub plot like that works great in a novel but not so well in a short story if it doesn't actually create a hook into an important part of the plot.

All in all very readable popular horror. I liked it.

[Sith Lord Jim]

Thank you for that. I really appreciate ur comments. The werewolf thing was me struggling to have enough words and me getting sidetracked. It was also to show that it was a normal thing for him to do that kind of thing. It was useless tho. Thanks.
Jimmy

[Peppy]

I found the telling part alright, this is of course first person view. But then again, you would suddenly switch to thrid person's point of view. Hmmmmmm... Anyways, it was a good read and I don't know how long it has been since I read something entertain(even the books I read at home).

Oh yeah, it did feel a little rushed, just look it what I found:
*“Suck shit, silver bullets,” he explained just as he aimed at the next werewolf.<------sounds like he's talking to his silver bullets

*"He must have realized we had a spy on (him) since he killed our poor friend yesterday.”

*They werewolf collapsed and the rest stood in confusion.<----easy to know what's wrong

*The rest of the week was spent having nightmares and being at (the) church.

[Hagetaka]

As some may or may not know, Im a huge vampire story kinda guy. Yet, this feels very much like "Blade". You know... the action packed vampire slaying movie. However, this is not quite my cup 'o tea. Ive always envisioned vampires as, well.. badasses, haha. I wont critique this, as I am jaded. However, the merit to your story is there, perhaps you should work on your delievery. I shouldnt be bored reading about vampires!

[AlannBaadrain]

I agree with most critiques so far. Take it easy on "frantic" in the first paragraph. The first half seems focused more on gore as opposed to story. The second half is a bit more organized and therefore stronger. I like the idea of a "Warrior Priest" but you need to have communicate the plot a little more clearly.

[Ambrose]

Vampires, werewolves and priests... oh my!

The descriptions were scant. I really wanted to know more about the setting, and about what was going on. It felt at times like I was being force fed the story. I appreciated that you took the time to mention the copious amount of blood after each killing, but additional detail was needed to solidify the action sequences.

The narration was almost gripping, but not necessarily in a good way. I was interested in what Paul was up to but a lot of the time it felt forced. Like someone mentioned before, you need to show not tell what is going on. This way, the reader can more easily "get into" your story and get a feel for what is about to happen. There were a couple paragraphs that I had to go back and reread because there were so many "and then he did this..." sentences, and I lost track of who was killing who.

The voice of Paul was problematic for me because, as I mentioned above, he is not consistent in his thinking. A good example of this is when he breaks down in front of his congregation, totally unexpectedly. This is a man who fights vampires and werewolves, for god sake. What would cause such a sudden change in his character? If you were alluding to the sadness he possesses because of what happened to his family then you should make it more explicit. As it is now, I honestly can't imagine him saying that aloud to everybody in the church. And on that note, why does Paul swear so much? You would think a priest would be mindful of his choice of words, but this is not so with Paul. The man is a walking blasphemy. I guess this is humously ironic, but was it intended?

This is quite an action-packed tale, perhaps a little too action packed. The entire time I felt like I was in the front seat at an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. While action scenes in writing can be enjoyable in small doses, too many can make the story seem jumpy and shallow, because it leaves no room for the essentials: character and plot development.
That's not to say there isn't a plot, because there is. In fact, I really liked the whole prophecy thing and I thought that aspect of the story had a lot of potential. What I didn't like was how the plot seemed to take a backseat to the nonstop, ludicrous action. I mean, twice Paul threw explosive pottery at a pack of ravenous monsters, which strikes me as something Rambo would do, not a priest. And often the action didn't seem particularly meaningful. I didn't ever think that Paul's life was in danger because the guy is practically indescructible. At the beginning of the story, he takes on an entire club of vampires, including the bouncers which I imagine to be real mean looking, and slaughters them all. He even decapitates them! My biggest problem, though, is with the protagonist. He isn't an understandable character. One second he is blasting vampires/werewolves, the next he is fearful about the prophecy. His feelings are not consistent, and consequently he is not very believable.

[Sith Lord Jim]

Cant be bothered to defend myself... This was three years ago. I hate it. It will be rewritten soon as it fits in with "The story"

[spinx]

I did not have any trouble reading it good work i liked it.

[adrenalyn]

I thought the character of the priest was developing well until he broke down in front of his congregation which didn't seem likely for this hard man who takes on hordes of powerful supernatural creatures. Nor was this followed by any explanation as to why he acted so out of character. On the whole I enjoyed the quick pace of the action although in times it was repetitive.

[Sith Lord Jim]

Ok the priest is suffering from a sort of split personality thing and is becoming more Kesef than Paul. Thank you for your comment.

[RENA HANDS]

I think u meant "until" and not till. U made an adjective use error with this sentence: "He could not wait till the day when they were all burning in hell." U must choose "which" u do not need both "the and which," "..after which is the angel..," a comma after "..Kesef considered what to do, .." consider the following: "He ripped the pin out and threw it vigorously, the look of madness upon his face." U might want to replace with comma, "It said, "There shall..." "He knew he had not; it was.." "Just what he needed was to be attacked by a werewolf." "Therefore, he clambered to his feet.." "They knew excessively about him." The word is leveled. "First he needed to prepare." "Here are the ammo,.." "The vase had worked well;.." "As he had after he blew up the building." I suggest something other than "way too much" explaining." "..foreboding lake that had one.." The word is color. A comma after "..reached the car, he fumbled.." "In Jesus' name." "..I bless this water," "It was a crime-filled, desolated, and rundown area. "The vampire's laugh was different now." I found a few fragmented sentences and a few more end-of-sentence prepositions these mistakes erupt the flow of the story. Why did the city stop construction of the "half built building?" I must reiterate that I am again relearning the rules of writing so I only make the suggestions that I was taught in my education. The use of such profanity from the priest, quite remarkable. The werewolf adage was not necessary. I strongly agree with all that Telling Times commented. The story is something like from Blade I, II, III and the Series.

[Odanion]

This is a pretty good story...there were a few times I was wondering what was going on...and I think it was simply because your paragraphs got a bit long a few times...but even hough i would have wished that the vampires kicked his butt...I can't always get my way ^^ but it was a good story