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Elijah walked down the streets, staring at the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. He arrived at a newsstand and traded 25 cents for a paper. He flipped through the pages, looking for a purfect job. He scanned through all the choices until he found a job at the book store. He couldn't believe it. He loved books. He took out his cellphone and dailed: 834-263-9014.

A hidden cave.

She tilted her head to side, curiously watching the flex of muscles in her hand. So complexe how the tendons twitch and the nerves percieve. Emerald eyes focused as her line of vision was crossed. Thrashing. A brief smirk crossed her twisted features as she tightened her harsh grip upon the throat of her one-time boyfriend. She had always thought him strong--stronger than herself...it was amazing what anger could do for you. Leaning downward, her thumb pierced flesh as she softly cooed into his ear.
"Do you know what the sad thing is...?" She let him wonder as she loosened her grip enough so he could pull one ragged breathe, but not enough so he could respond. No, he didn't deserve the right to answer. "I still love you..."

A leaf about to fall from a tree.

The door shook in it's frame, but did not open. "Barbra!" A small voice chimed from the other side of the door. "Barbra I'm scared!"
"It's going to be okay, sissy, I promise." Barbra said, trying to console her younger sister. She backed up again, then surged forward, ramming the door with her left sholder, as if this time she could make a difference. But once again, the door held firmly in it's fame. Whoever had sealed her younger sister behind that door didn't want Barbra to get to her.

The end of the world.

"Joey I told you to wash the windows half an hour ago, what happened?!"
"Xemnas happened, Mom! He's kicking my a**!"
"Just start washing the windows..." She said wiht a shrug.
"Jeez." Joey looked at the bottle of Windex. "Mom, the bottle of Windex is half empty. I cant work like that!" "Joey, you're so lazy! And why do you have to be so negative, huh? Look at it as half full." "But Mom, it's not half full. It's Half empty. Why are you so positive?" "Just clean!!!" "But it'll poison me! Haven't you seen a quiz where it says, 'half empty', 'half full', or 'Oh em gee it's poisoned!!!'" "You're not gonna drink it, just hurry up!" "Hey, you started this. If you never talked about it being half full, none of this would've happened!" "I started this?! You complained about this being half empty!!! IT'S HALF FULL!!! DON'T YOU GET IT?!?!" "NO I DON'T!!!"

~The neighbors soon called the police.~

A box of fresh beer.

I sat in my chair watching TV. There was some show about cooking on. I didn't really care, I knew all there was to know about how to cook. I had grown up on this farm, I still live here, and I don't plan to ever leave. I had even won a contestfor the finest cheese at the Clinton County Fair last year. I kept the cheese in a sealed case above my TV. Suddenly, the howl of George, my dog cut the air. I thought little of it, he howled about a lot of things, so I didn't mind him. Then, my house bucked to the side as theworld turned upside down and the floor flew down to meet me. My head hurt, my righ eye was filled with too much blood to see properly. the TV was laying on its side a few feet from me. It must have been an earth quake. I then looked up at the shelf where I proudly displayed my whell of cheese. The cheese teetered dangerously close the edge above me. I tried to move, but I was still shuddering from the impact. The cheese toppled off the shelf. I let out a strangled cry as the air was crushed from my body. I felt my ribs buckle inward, driving into my lungs. I imagined the blood oozing through my body unchecked in the moments before I blacked out for good.

The hanged man...

The girl giggled as the mobs pushed her forward. The mob's maddeningly repetative chant of "witch, witch, witch" had become old over ten minutes ago. Rusted pitchforks gleamed from the light of hand0held torches. Finally, the crowd stopped at the base of a stake, already surrounded by hay for the burning. In front of it stood the judge of the town. He was a small, venerable man with small, round glasses and a fezz perched on his bald head. "Girl, look at me," the judge said. The girl grinned as he half-focused on the old man before her. "Girl, are you a witch?" he asked plainly. "Yes!" came a cry from the crowd. That induced another chanting of "witch, witch." The judge quickly silenced them. "Are you a witch, girl?" he repeated.
"You're a bad man," the girl said, still smiling joyfully. "You killed the last judge, you were alone in a room, he was sick, you-"
"Silence!" The judge weezed. "This girl reads minds and spins falsehoods! Burn her!"
"NO!" a younge man cried, lounging out from the crowd. The judge elbowed the man in the adams apple, causing him to double over, coughing. The mob surged forward. Some held ropes, other grabbed the girl, all the time chanting "Witch, witch, witch, witch, witch...."


A vampire...

Disclaimer: I don't own Tupperware containers they belong to who ever they belong to. I do own Laben, Blane and Vinsissco vampires.

He was like a desert flower, the only nice thing in the desert of loneliness, hate and pain, the only person in the whole school who cared if he lived or died. The bullied boy turned and walked away. The white-haired loner sighed, grabbing his coat and bag, putting them on he left the classroom. No one had noticed either of them leave not the other students to busy with their own obsessions with being popular or talk no stop instead of doing their stories for English, or the teacher who was listening to his MP3 player and reading a crime novel.

The dark-chocolate-haired boy tossed his bag on to the ground under tree over looking the forest in the valley, which was a wash with autumn colour. He rummaged threw his bag until he found his water-proof coat and laid it out on the ground and sat on it. His grey trouser and white hooded top were and odd contrast against his dark-chocolate longish hair.

The white-haired freezing fog Vinsissco vampire walked quickly over to the other teen, who for being a victim of bulling didn't seemed to have noticed his hurried noisy approach but then again he knew he would be the only one to follow him or approach him outside of the school corridor or grounds. The bullies had mortals' life in school down right awful but never outside school where their parents could possibly see that their little darlings were really down right evil and vicious things.

The immortal teen sat down beside the other teen who was fighting between taking his hurt and anger out on someone or breaking down crying.
"Would you like a cup of tea Blane?" the bespectacled immortal asked.
"No. Leave me alone." Blane snapped lashing out at the other teen. He looked up to see the white-haired teen, he come to rely on as his only friend, flinch away from him violently as if he expected to have the living daylights beaten out of him.
"Laben, I-I'm sorry, I . . ." Blane trailed off unsure of what to say or do to make what ever was between them better.
"It's alright, Blay. It's Freud's displacement defence mechanism." Laben said ignoring the stinging of check from where his friend had slapped him.

"Freud who? Defence what?" Blane asked, having not taken psychology and therefore not done the atypical behaviour module that his friend had done he had no idea what he was talking about.
"Freud's displacement mechanism was about channelling anger and unacceptable emotions away from their target, which might be something they can't get angry with like their boss or the thing that made them angry isn't there at the time, so it gets redirect to something that can't or won't fight back such as a dog or spouse or in this case me." Laben explained.
"Oh I didn't mean to. I wouldn't hurt you you're my friend. What do you mean by won't fight back?" Blane asked.
"I wouldn't fight back unless you tried to rape or kill me, you'd end up getting bitten." Laben said.
"What the heck? You're joking right?" Blane exclaimed. Laben blinked at him and titling his head to one side replied,
"Er no. I will bite you if you try to rape or kill me."
"You're mad." Blane answered both amazed and frightened of how much power he could have over his friend.
"I'm not mad. I'm a pure blood freezing fog Vinsissco vampire," Laben said thinking aloud without realising.

"What do you mean you're a vampire? How are you out in the sunlight?" Blane asked not sure if Laben was joking or serious.
"I'm a Vinsissco vampire it's pronounced Vin-sis-sz-ko. I come from a line of pure blood fog, mist or smoke type Vinsissco vampires. We don't spontaneously combust in sunlight it just makes us need glasses or to wear sunglasses all day that's all. We can kill with a single bite but we've been raised to know killing people is wrong. We do need to drink blood to survive but don't kill we order blood from special companies which make blood which a cope of human blood but not actually from humans, but it tastes the same kind. Like how chicken flavoured crisps don't have chicken in just chicken flavouring." Laben tried to explain hoping that his mortal friend wasn't going to bolt or refuse to be his friend.

"Prove it." Blane challenged not believing what Laben had said.
"What?" Laben whispered looking at Blane. The mortal didn't believe him.
"How?" He asked.
"What do you mean how?" Blane asked.
"What do you want me to do to prove to you I'm a Vinsissco?" snowy-haired immortal asked.
"Bite me. Drink my blood. I don't know something." Blane said.
"Where?" Laben asked.
"My throat duh. Why on earth do you ask?" Blane asked.

"Because to offer me you're throat implies trust a lot of trust. It implies you trust me not to kill me, that you trust me with your life and your memories. I willing give blood to my close friends or another Vinsissco in need but apart from my immediate family, another close to me by blood such as my brothers' fledgling, I can think of two maybe three I'd ever let drink from my throat. I'd only bare my throat to another if trusted them with my life or if I was trying to appease them if I done something to hurt them badly or was willing to submit to them if I wanted them to see my memories or read my mind. It's why I seem to instinctively offer my wrist or my throat to appease someone.

If I was to offer my wrist to another Vinsissco it would either mean drink from me or would you like to drink from me if they were hungry or hurt. If they were upset with me or angry with me it would mean I'm sorry or forgive me. Offering your knife and both your wrists is basically begging forgiveness or begging to die. Showing the gemstone-like scar mark left by making a blood promise means either I promised not to tell usually on pain of death and can even still bind after the person it is made to dies. To offer your wrist to someone you don't know or if they don't know you or recognise you means trust me or I'm not lying to you. Or if someone does know you but doesn't believe it's you you'd offer them your wrist and say 'What does your mind or senses tell you' and they'd bite you and if they knew you'd they'd recognise you. Also to hold up your hands with your wrists out if someone was to attacks you means I don't want to fight or don't I'm hurt. Also you'll find in our fights loser will offer their throat, especially if they've got a knife at there throat meaning I submit, I yield or I give up or give in or I'm sorry. Sorry Blane I'm rambling." Laben said blushing slightly.

Blane held out his right wrist not really believing Laben but he sounded so convincing. Laben smiled slightly at Blane as he brought the offered wrist up to his mouth. He felt his breathing deepen, his fangs lengthen and eyes mirror flare, so that his immortal vision returned and his light grey irises filled with what looked like shards of glinting almost glowing red of broken mirror around his pupils and icy-blue-grey shards of broken mirror towards the outside of his irises. He sank his fangs into his friends' wrist hot, warm, metallic blood filled his mouth, heightening all of his senses and rush of happy positive emotions through him. Mentally he reached out to Blanes' mind dropping his own mind shields and connecting over the forming blood-bond. Gently he began to drink the blood flowing from the wound in Blanes' wrist. He felt and sensed Blane floored and awed by the rush of happy emotions running through him. Laben pulled back, closing his mind and removing his mouth from the wound.

Blane opened his eyes, his mind still swimming in the emotions that Laben drinking from him seem to pull out from somewhere deep in his mind and heart. He blinked watching Laben lick the wound on his wrist, which closed and he was left blinking at unmarred skin of his wrist. Blane watched Laben take off his silvery-grey glasses, he jumped slightly at strange glinting glowing coloured shards that were scattered across his friends' irises the shards of broken mirror.

"Wow, that, that was amazing. It's so nice I guess it's really addictive," Blane said to himself.
"Anything can be addictive Blane, my dear, once it becomes habit. So now do you believe me?" Laben asked.
"Yes, Lay." Blane confirmed. Laben smiled.
"You're still my friend right?" Laben asked fearing his mortal friend was going to turn his back on him.
"Of course." Blane said realising how vulnerable Laben had made himself by telling him about his kind.
"Would you I a cup of tea?" Laben asked.
"Yes please, with a little milk and some sugar." Blane replied. Laben smiled and reached into his bag and pulled out two thermos flasks, a small Tupperware container and two metal camping mugs. The rest of the afternoon between the two friends was filled with happiness, laughter and getting to really know each other better.

Word count: 1,577
Pages: 4 A4, size 14.

Describe it: strange things happen on a rainy day . . .