Twilight: Rewritten (Prologue)

I realize it's been month since I've posted anything. Honestly, as much as I've been saving writing prompts on Pinterest and all, I simply haven't had any actual desire to write. However, as I was cleaning out the trunk of my car earlier today, I came across a box of books that had been sitting there for I'm going to say well over a year. They're all books bound for Goodwill, but me being me, I went through to make sure there was nothing that I wanted to keep. Among the various books was the Twilight series, four of the books I hate most. Out of random curiosity and a half-assed desire to try to once again understand why these books are so popular, I flipped through the first one and was once again massively unimpressed. The concept was still spectacularly stupid to me and the writing awful. Not that I can really talk since I can't say if my writing is any better, but then again, nothing I've ever written has gotten on the New York Times Best Seller list. And as most people know the popular Fifty Shades of Grey series originated as a Twilight fanfiction before the names were changed and it was published. Well, flipping through the book, I decided that I wanted to attempt my own "fanfiction" piece, except that I'm not a fan and my idea was rather darker and more in the typical vampire theme. If you've read Twilight, you know it starts with a prologue. Below is my prologue. I'd love some genuine feedback if it sounds interesting and if I should continue. I may continue anyways, but feedback always helps. ;)

Forever. That’s what he’d told me, what he promised me. An eternity together. He wouldn’t lie to me, he couldn't. Why would he when he so clearly loved me; it was in his every look, his every move. It couldn’t all be a lie, could it? I raised my hands to cover my face, to block out the sight before me, and found myself staring at blood, my blood, covering my hands like a scarlet glove. My breath caught in my throat as I stared, my mind struggling to understand all that had transpired within the last hour.

I slowly raised my eyes to his, hoping beyond hope to see even a glimmer of affection. I saw nothing. I looked up into the eyes that had once been so filled with love and finally understood. I had fallen for a monster. I let out a short, hysterical laugh as the pieces slowly fell into place, as I was finally forced to face and accept the inevitable. I was an instrument, his instrument, only wanted and useful until the job was completed. And now, the job was done; I was of no more use to him. A cold smile spread across his lips as he saw the veil lift, as I saw him for who he truly was: a master of manipulation.

I stood up painfully, every inch of my body screaming in protest. His eyes flared with interest, clearly wondering if his prey was going to put up a fight. I, however, had no intention of fighting him, I saw no point in delaying the inevitable. But even as he stalked me, I was once again struck by his beauty, his gracefulness. I was no longer under his spell though and for the first time, I saw just how terrible and dangerous his beauty was. How could I have been so blind? Looking back, it was so easy to see that he was using me. As tears slowly trailed down my cheeks, I turned away from him and pressed my palms against the cool glass of the window. The sun was just beginning to rise over the treetops in all its glory. I drank in the sight for a long moment, thankful that beauty, not darkness would be the last thing I saw. I slowly closed my eyes and waited.

Divided: Prologue

Writing Prompt: As my story came to a close I realized that I was the villain all along.

I've always been intrigued by the idea of writing a book or short story focusing on the "villain" who really doesn't understand until they've lost everything that they were the villain. A villain who's very human, who truly believes they're doing the right thing for everyone involved. This is a very short portion of a story that I have semi-formed. So at the moment I'm asking for opinions. Should I continue and flesh it out, or just drop it?

The flames were getting closer. I shifted slightly in an effort to move away from the heat, stopping as a searing pain exploded in my chest. I could feel the blood pooling in my lungs, making it hard to breathe. At the same time I realized that I had no feeling in my legs. I gasped out a laugh at the irony of it all. The prophecy, that damn prophecy. It was the cause of all this. The laughter died on my lips as I stared up at the darkening sky. I tasted blood, my blood. No, it wasn't the prophecies fault, it was mine. Me thinking that I could stop it from happening and instead putting everything in motion. Me thinking that I was the hero destined to save everyone. But no, I was the villain. Tears slowly trickled down my cheeks. All I'd wanted to do was help, to be the hero for once. I was no hero, I was never meant to be one. I could feel the heat searing my skin. So this is how it will end, I thought, just like all the stories children love. The hero has vanquished the villain and everyone lives happily ever after. I closed my eyes for the last time and gave myself up to the flames.

Darkness Calls

The darkness reached out to her, its dark arms warm and inviting.  She took a stumbling step forward, one arm rising reluctantly from her side to reach for the comfort of those arms.  Her face was a picture torment, torn between desire and defiance.  She stood frozen for a moment, then with a wild cry she pulled away forcing herself to turn her back to the darkness.  Her whole body trembled from the effort of resisting.  How much longer could she hold out?  How much longer before she gave into the darkness's tender embrace?

~~*~~

She lay in her darkened room, clinging to the giant teddy bear that had been a constant comfort to her for the last five years.  Her tears spilled onto the warm fur of his face as her body shook with grief.  Another confrontation with her parents.  What are you going to do with your life?  You can't live here forever.  You need a plan.  You don't do anything to help out around the house.  Why do we have to remind you of everything?  The list of her failures went on and on.  She did her best to hide her pain and frustration.  Didn't they know she despised herself?  That getting through each day without falling to pieces required a herculean effort?  That she found herself so incapable of figuring out her future because she didn't see one for herself?  That she thought herself so worthless that there was no point in even trying?  At times her failure became so overwhelming that she stared at the bottle of sleeping pills on her nightstand or the block of sharp knives sitting on the kitchen counter and wondered how hard it would be to end everything.  No more worries, no nothing.

But there was a spark of life in her yet that stayed her hand.  A faint flicker of hope that fueled the dream of a time when she was successful and independent, somebody worth knowing and caring about.  But as the days slowly passed and she found herself struggling and failing to change anything, that flicker of hope grew dimmer and dimmer as the darkness closed in.  It was only a matter of time before hope was extinguished and she sought the finality of the darkness.

The Last of the Dragon Riders: Prologue

“Retreat!  Retreat!  All Dragon Riders retreat!”

            The voice could scarcely be heard over the roars of dragons and the screams of their riders.  At the sound of it, however, about a dozen of these dragons turned in their flight and began flying rapidly back toward the base in the distance.  Their enemies pursued them, striving to bring them down as they fled.  One of the retreating dragons faltered slightly as a strong head wind hit it and in a moment the enemy had caught up to it.  The air was filled with screams and roars as the dragon and its rider strove to get away, but the enemy were too many and in moments a sword was plunged through the dragons heart and its rider was snatched up into the gaping maw of one of the dragons.  The disturbance caused the other riders to look back, but there was nothing they could do.  They pushed their mounts to even greater speeds, silently shedding tears for their fallen companions and for the hundreds of others who had died in that accursed war.  They had been so confident of victory in the beginning yet they had not realized how strong their enemy was growing over time.  From the eve of the war over twelve years ago, he had held the upper hand; still, they were hoping they could win.  Now after all this time, they were retreating once again.