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.