Tuesday, July 5, 2005

Part 2
Haha! Done. Whew....I have most of chapter 2 typed out. Yikes it's long. It has a little report thing in it and it's kinda long, but I centered it and it's not very wide. About four words a line. Long...cool though. The chapter was supposed to be longer than that, but using 3 pages for that report got me thinking I should just end it where I left off last time I wrote in it. (Chapter 2 will be split due to it's length.) So here it is, Chapter 1, part 2. Enjoi. (Booyuka. ^^) Oh yes, and excuse my screw-ups there. Rather tired and haven't really had a chance to go over any of it. I'm getting a name on http://www.fictionpress.com, and will have the edited version there. 'Pen name' is Vampire's Lament. I've yet to have it actually verified or whatever, since I've only recently joined it. Should be able to submit by the time you read this though. ^^ (Can't yet though. Need that book name! -.-)

'I cursed the dirty floor. The dust that rose to my face. The dirt that settled on my clothes and and my hair. Making it all seem even more soiled than it really was.
The only sounds now was the dripping of the coffee machine and of the few cars that were rushing by. That's why it suprised me so. The sudden knock at the door. Making me jump and helping more dust clouds form. More curses. Who the hell could it be? People normally didn't bother with me. I stood and went to the door.
"Ha!"
I almost fell back as the form before me jumped forward as the door was opened for him.
"Steve! I exclaimed, glaring at him.
"Calm down, Dev. I thought you might like some company or something." Steve explained as he reached into his pocket. "Thought you might want some of these too." He tossed a pack of cheap cigarettes to me.I squeezed the soft pack some, then looked up at him.
"Thanks Steve. Say, got a lighter in there too?" I grinned as he reached inside the same pocket and pulled out a small black Bic lighter. He extended his hand to me, but didn't drop the lighter into my waiting hand. A batted softly at his closed fist. "What's up?"
"Tch. Gonna at least let me in? A gave you cigarettes already." I shook my head in a slightly disapporving way, but not in a rejecting way. I stepped back and aside to let him him in.
"So what's the news?" I asked as a took the lighter from his now pened hand and led him to he 'living room'. I lit a cigarette from the pack that I pulled out and sat down in the nearest chair, letting my purple eyes study him the entire time.
"Well," he began, grabbing the lighter and a cigarette. He lit it, tossed the lighter back to me, then plopped down in a chair, cigarette hanging lossely from his mouth."....most of Delightful Lane is dead." he finished.
Ah yes. Delightful Lane. THe street I'd always thought to be straight out of a horror novel. I mean....who names a street Delightful Lane. Really? The Lane was a street in Oklahoma That me and Steve had found while wandering around there during our visit to his mother a month or two before she passed away. The Lane or, Delightful, had been on the very edge of the town. It consisted mostly of nice houses and a few shops. Most of the shops were owned by someone who lived on Delightful. Steve and I became to interested in the Lane, we went snooping around to figure all this out, then we kept watch on it for interesting things.
"What do you mean dead?"
"I mean dead," he answered a bit sharply, taking a drag from his cigarette. "some crazy murderer or something went along and killed most that lived on the Lane. Well....all pretty much. Everyone who saw the killer said he travels like a shadow. He's just a blur in the corner of your eye. No one has actually seen his face. But a few have claimed to see some black hairs sticking out of his hood. Some even said they saw the eeriest green eyes staring out from the darkness. The last sighting of him was a week ago, but they said that He was heading this was and there was a few sightings if him on the road between here and there. They say he should've been here around yesterday, and he only works at night, so I guess we'll only be finding out later if he's staring here to start another little killing spree or if he's just passing though."
I took in the information silently.
"Dev?"
Dev. I thought about the name. I began to wonder how anyone got 'Dev' out of 'Nirvana'. Nirvana Abdel. My real name. Ah. I remember. 'Art of the Devil' I'd been called. But 'Art' had gotten old along with 'Devil, 'Satan' and all those others. So Dev.
"Dev!"
My eyes glanced up at him. "Yes?"
A sigh escaped him. "Didn't you hear me?"
A shake of my head.
"I was asking what you thought of all this."
What did I think? ". . . I think. . . serves them right."
"You can't be serious!"
"Living on street called Delightful Lane has to turn out bad. Just think about it."
Steve opened his mouth to say something, but it closed and he was silent. I supposed he was getting ready to reply quite meanly to my statement, but had thought better of it. I tried to change the subject, but he seemed to want to continue.
He shook his head a little. "Those poor people. I wonder why he killed them all. Weird ways too. And it took three murders before the cops decided to launch an investigation."
I couldn't find any words that would fittingly reply to this. I stayed on subject, but tryed my best to stay away from a conversation over the actual murders. "So....I guess we don't have anything to make fun of or watch anymore."
Silence for a moment. Then: "Jeez, Dev!"
I almost jumped at his words. So sudden. I sat there quietly and simply watched him, my head cocked in question of his sudden outburst.
"Why do you talk like that? Can't you have pity for the dead? Do we really need something to make fun of something? Almost ten people are dead, Dev!"
I shook my head some, but said nothing. I couldn't really say anything to that. Why was he suddenly so defensive? He never cared before. I supposed I should've felt bad about it all. . .but funny thing was. . . I couldn't. I sighed some. "I really just. . . can't find that pity. I'm sorry."
"Dev you're just. . . heartless sometimes, you know?"
Such a harsh word. Heartless. Who was he to say anything like that? I frowned then shrugged. "I guess not."
He stood, putting his cigarette out in the palm of his hand. "I need to go. I'll be back later today or something. Buh uh. . . just be careful. Alright? With the murderer out and stuff still. 'Serial killer' or whatever. Promise?"
Still upset at the word heartless, I shurgged a little then nodded. "Fine."
He nodded back, and then he was gone.
I sat there in the silence for a few minutes. I wondered when to leave that night. Like I was ever good at listening to warnings. I'd be going out just because Stever told me not to. Only problem I had was deciding when to go. It took alot of motivation for me to get out of my little hole-in-the-wall, and I sure as hell wasn't leaving if Steve would be back soon. I had to go after he left or. . . I dunno, mabey even before he comes.
I decided to drink the coffee fairly soon. Let it fuel me for the rest of the day, then have the solitude of darkness come later in the night. 'Only if Steve doesn't come back.' Ah yes. He'd be on to me and wouldn't back off if he knew of my plans. Then I began to wonder what I'd do if I met the killer. 'I'd congratulate him. Thank him'. Would I? Or would I freeze on the spot with terror? Or run? Knowing myself, I'd probably get a cocky attitude and wind up dead.
Suprisingly, I wasn't dead. No matter what the situation, I always turned out alive. PErhaps there was something left for me to do. Perhaps. I doubted it though. What the hell could I do for anyone? Tch. . . . I supposed I was just meant to be the killer's next victim.
That's right. Steve would see on the news:
'22 year old Nirvana Abdel found dead in an alley by twenty third
street this morning. Autopsy shows that she'd died about seven
hours before being found at around 8:27. She was apprently stabbed
numerous times times, mostly around the abdominal area. Her funeral
is to be held in the afternoon this coming Monday, or at the latest,
Wednesday.Mainly just friends will be attending due to the lack of
close family.'

A smile spread across my face. Now wouldn't Steve like that? He'd probably curse at my closed coffin. Spit upon the few assorted flowers on my grave. 'Damnit, Dev! Damn you! Why can't you ever just listen?'
And all the while my laughing spirit would be grinning with glee. Malice. No one would mourn over the dead body of Nirvana. No one would know what to carve on the ugly stone they would stick at the top of the patch of dirt where my now rotting corpse would lay. Mabey just:
Nirvana Abdel
Murdered
Birth, August 25, 1983. Death, April 14, 2005

That would be. . . decent.'

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