Perspectives

Well, the characters are settled. Splendid names were chosen by all. The names I considered corny or superficial won in this round (accept it a benchmark for the rest of this story). I hadn't thought about surnames (they're those easy-to-forget, extra words that your modern society insists you drag around with you), but you surprised me by including some...clever people. So, I threw in suggested surnames, because you can never tell when they may come in handy in a jumble of words like this.

When I introduced you to the characters, I might have left out some minor character flaws. Expect them. Embrace them. They're staying.

Your task is simple: Read the two blurbs below, and choose a narrator. (Yes, they are both female characters. I thought about allowing you to choose one of the males as the narrator, but then I decided against it.) Indicate from which character's perspective you would like the story narrated. Only comments posted to this blog will be considered in the decision making process. And, remember: these characters have flaws that you have yet to imagine. Choose carefully.



Afterlife according to Deirdre Espy(#2):
Muscled limbs move swiftly. Feet barely strike the ground. He bounds gracefully down the darkened street; his bouncing strides propel him toward me.

He is a perfect specimen, and he is mine…at least, he will be. In the haze of early twilight, I lurk, waiting. I remain hidden from his vision, creeping between the marble façade of the lecture hall and the tree-lined curb of the city street.

"Good evening." He greets the postbox that stands between us.

What a strange creature! Obviously, he's deranged. Oh well, it's nothing that the dark magic can't fix. A few more footfalls strike the ground as he jogs away. Seconds slide by while I wait for tension to build.

Springing from behind the postbox, I launch into pursuit. Slamming the pavement with my sneakers, I break into a full run. Vampire blood speeds my steps. This mortal has no hope of escape. He will be mine!

"Oof." In a tangle of limbs, I hit the ground. Pain stings my cheek, my palms, and my knees. Groaning, I peel myself from the pavement. A little five-pointed star of blood shines at me from the asphalt.

Did anyone see that? Embarrassed, I glance behind me. Girls dressed in miniskirts giggle amongst themselves. Covering their glossy smiles with manicured fingertips, they snicker over a shared secret…a scandalous confession about a forbidden tryst, perhaps. Regardless, they're oblivious to my faux pas.

With a sharp twist, I perform an about-face and cast a fleeting glance at my fleeing prey. Away from me, he gorgeously capers with his two perfect, healthy legs. Why is death so cruel?


Afterlife according to Elle Dimsworth(#4):
I gotta be honest with you. I am totally loving this whole vampire/gothy fashion thing. I mean, what a great excuse to wear a little lace! Besides, I look hot in black.

Now, I just gotta figure out this mirror thing. I have fabulous clothes. I know I put them on, but when I look in the mirror, poof. Nothing's there. It could be worse, I guess. I could be naked when I look in the mirror. Thank heavens--I mean thank hell--I'm not. The only thing that could be worse than no reflection is a bad reflection. Although, I do look pretty hot when I'm naked.

Makeup is a total fail, though. I really gotta figure out this mirror thing. Until I do, I'll just powder my nose and hope for the best. Maybe people will be too busy looking at my boots to notice…they're really cute boots. I just wish I could figure out why they smell so bad. Yuck! This extra-strong, vampire sense of smell thing really sucks.

The Story

It's time to write a story.
Why?--because I say so.
What's this story about?--It's about vampires, of course.
What makes this story different from the vampire tales ridiculed on this site?--Well, it's different because I'm involved, and I won't be criticizing myself, obviously. But you know what, it's even better than that. This story is one in which you may participate. Think of it as a "Choose your own adventure" story (Aw c'mon, you remember those).

Essentially, as the story progresses you get to decide the fate of the characters, the decisions they make, and incidents affect them. So, in the end, if the story sucks (and not in the good way), then it's your fault. (See how I passed the blame onto you? Clever, hm?)

Don't worry. I'm sure it will be fine; I'll be chaperoning you along the way...and censoring you...and blatantly adding my own opinions and ignoring yours. It'll be fun.

Let's begin shall we? First off, we need characters. Below I've listed the four main characters and a mini-biography of each. Yes, I have stolen the personality traits from other stories. So, bite me. Or, sue me...whichever you feel is more appropriate (just kidding about that).

Our characters need names. That's your job. (Be sure to specify to which character your proposed name belongs. Using the number system I've provided is a very good idea.)

Cast of Characters
Vampire 1:
Male, The Sherlock Holmes of vampires

Vampire 2:
Female, A sleuth who uses clues to unravel mysteries

Vampire 3:
Male, The "Dark Gift" gives him the power to read people's minds

Vampire 4:
Female, The Daphne of this Scooby Gang (as in 'Daphne Blake' not 'Daphne the Laurel Tree')

Well, that's it for now. Tune in soon for the first chapter.

Ciao,
Ana

--Oh, and one more thing: if you don't have a sense of humor, then you can't play. Well, you can, but it'll frustrate you to no end. See you soon.

--Post-postscriptum: This isn't intended for role-playing (although, you're more than welcome to do that on your own, if you wish). This is a story in which I write a paragraph, and then you decide if the vampire saves the damsel in distress or if he drains her and dumps her body off a bridge to see what kind of splash she makes. Is that clear?

Preamble

I'm not a storyteller. I'm not really writer. That's okay, though, because this is not really a story. It's a mess of words with no direction or purpose, and even I don't know how it will end.

This is what I know: It's fiction. It's all made up. The whole thing comes from the depths of deranged minds (wait, did you say minds--plural minds?), and it's more likely to fizzle out than it is to conclude. It will never be a best-seller. It will never inspire the reader to greatness, but I guarantee it will make you laugh...or snicker...or (at the very least) shake your head and say, "Ana, that is the dumbest thing that anyone has ever written". Hey, that's something for which to aspire.

So, why am I writing this jumble of words that serves no purpose and has no goal? And, why does this story (if it can be called that) have a preamble?

Well, this jumble of words has a preamble because I hate prologues. And, even though this may be considered a prologue, the word 'preamble' makes me feel better about myself. Finally, I'm not writing this *ahem*story...you are. I'm just gluing it together.

Okay, that's a lie. I am writing it, but your deciding it. So, go ahead and torture me with your bad decisions. I'll find a way out of the mess you'll make for me...I hope.