Path of the Vampire forum

Outside the driven rain thrummed angrily against the pavement, each droplet shattering upon impact and drenching the sidewalks, which wrapped around the large red brick, in a shade of murky gray. The tall library walls resonated with the sounds of thunder crashing nearby, and through the windows the occasional burst of lighting flashed across the floor. Essex loved the rain, it reminded her of home. The two things that the English countryside was known for was it's inexplicably terrible cuisine and the incessant rain.

Willowy fingertips leafed through pages of articles regarding local disappearances, had no one here ever heard of a computer? In a digital age, here she had toiled away the daylight hours combing through volumes of old news paper clippings which dated back decades. She mindlessly chewed on the tip of the black pen she held between two pouted lips which pursed in concentration. Her warm brown eyes skimmed line after line, "disappeared…body never recovered….wife and mother of three". A sickened knot formed in the pit of Essex's stomach and her chest ached for this woman she'd never known these children who would never see their mother again. How many others had there been?

Essex couldn't bare to read another word. She'd had her fill of morbid fascination for one day. She rose to her feet and stretched her arms out behind her, locking her fingertips together and arching her back ever so slightly in an attempt at trying to work out the abuse she'd endured at the hands of that wooden torture device these people called a chair. She gathered up the oversized archive books and carried them up to the front desk, the middle aged woman at the counter didn't even bother to look up at Essex as she left, she merely thumbed through her copy of Cosmopolitan, the cover of which boasted such headlines as "How To Achieve the Perfect Sun-kissed Glow" and "25 Sex Tips To Blow His Mind," an involuntary cringe briefly crossed her face as she imagined the man that might be interested in trying those tips out.

Walking back to her hotel, passing building after building, she finally began to feel the anxiety of her day melt away as she headed into one of the more populated areas in town. As she happened by several lower level windows she could hear the muffled sounds of televisions sets playing, laughter, and more than once a couple arguing back and forth over their suspicions of infidelity or finances or whatever it was two people who've grown tired of one another argue about. She paused a moment longer than she should have, heeding her attention to one quarrel in particular. A woman was accusing what appeared to be her husband of being unfaithful, and with a close friend of hers no less. Her quivering voice seemed fatigued and irate all at once as though the poor thing had exhausted herself with rage, while the insensate husband merely laughed in her face and told her she was insane. 

It was something Essex had no intimate perception of but she felt for the woman nonetheless. Who had time for a relationship, She recited a quick prayer under her breath and continued on, wanting to put some distance between herself and the shouting so that she would no longer feel the temptation to listen. Essex's solid grip tightened around the small gold cross that hung from her neck until the whites of her bones began to show through the healthy pink tinge of her ivory colored skin.

Her mind was lost, it had wandered down a dark path of it's own invention. It was something about this place, the entire city just felt, for lack of a better word, wrong. Teeming with unexplained disappearances and suspicious deaths, with each passing day she spent here it seemed more and more likely that they could all be connected somehow. Essex felt as though she was finally on to something, it seemed as though her past was finally catching up to her or rather she was catching up to it.

The thunderclap of crushing metal and a shrill screech of tires on the pavement shook Essex from her careless reverie. She glanced up in time to see two cars, mangled and intertwined by colision, sliding toward her across the icy road. A sharp intake of breath filled her lungs but that was all the movement her lithe body seemed to manage. She wanted to run, to flee but her feet remained unmoved, paralyzed by fear.

She shut her eyes tightly, consigning herself to fate. Onlookers shrieked as a wave of panic swept over the street. She could hear the rushed footsteps of others scrambling to get out of the way and then with a deafening crash, the two cars met with the brick wall no more than five feet to her right.

Essex slowly opened her eyes and turned to survey the wreckage. A large black truck had pinned what was once a small silver car, now to marred to tell what make it had been, against the building. The windshield of the car was cracked, and a pool of blood surrounded the point of impact on the drivers side glass. She could vaguely make out the shape of the driver, a man slumped over with his head resting against the steering wheel.

With great hesitation, she finally took several steps toward the car, her knees buckling beneath her as she moved. She could see the driver more clearly now, a trickle of blood ran down the left side of his face from a deep gash on his forehead while his eyes starred blankly into nothing. The expression on his face was one of fear and shock, as though he had looked into the great beyond and found nothing. Essex again, clasped her hand around the cross at her neck and whispered a hushed prayer for the man and those who would morn his departure from this world to the next.

"Do you really believe your prayers will make a difference?" The voice of a indifference fell heavily on her ears. She couldn't fathom such callousness at a time like this. A life had been lost, she didn't know if this had been a good man, someone worth mourning but she knew he was a son to someone, perhaps a father, a husband, Essex wondered somberly if anyone was waiting on him at home. She hoped not. With extensive experience in the field of waiting for a loved one to come home that never did, she sincerely hoped not.

Did she really believe her prayers would make a difference? She wasn't sure, she had quarreled most of her life with the existence of a higher power. She had seen plenty in her short years to argue that God was fiction, nothing more than a symbol to keep the masses in line, but perhaps it was because of the atrocities she had been witness to that Essex needed to cling to the hope that she was wrong. So much ugliness and hate existed in the world, she mused, even if she were wrong in the end, would it really be so bad to hope.

"Do you really think they can hurt?" She uttered in an accusing fashion her soft English voice resonating in the night air. She turned her attention to the strange man, he seemed so calm, so out of place amongst the chaos. His expression was void save the slight hint of something she couldn't quite place that seemed to linger about his eyes, amusement perhaps? He was much taller than Essex which made the sensation of being scolded like a small child all the more distinct.

Flakes of snow fell around them, bathing the streets in a thin veil of white. The adrenaline that had pumped through her system before now slowed to a crawl and she was again aware of the bitter cold, she crossed hands over her arms in a rather vain attempt to stay warm. The thin fabric of her short black dress and beige overcoat served as a poor tools to stave away the chill. "Does a life really mean so little to you, sir, that you would chastise me for my prayers?" Essex retorted, a vexed frown crossing her face as she stared expectantly at the aloof stranger.

Her body tensed as he slid the jacket over her shoulders and didn't ease again until his hands were once more resting at his sides. The coat which she was certain must look natural on his frame hung awkwardly on her petite figure. She was accutely aware that it looked a bit like she was playing dress up but the jacket was warm and the usually sharp Essex had never been so happy about a fashion faux paus before in her life.

The rakish man seemed altered in his demeanor and the anger she had so intensely felt moments ago over his ill timed commentary melted away as he uttered "You must forgive a man his bitterness. Some don't have the strength to feel such sadness for people they don't know". His words resonated with her as, perhaps, the most profoudly genuine statement she had ever heard a person say outloud.

Surely she of all people could forgive a person their bitterness, she had endured her fair share over the years and while her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer she wondered silently what misfortunes had helped shape the skeptical man before her. Was he a scorned lover? Like her, had some family tragedy befallen him? Perhaps he was an alcoholic, maybe a gambler. Essex mused on, concocting a sordid past for him from her own wild supposition.

A reproachful blush crossed the pallor of her face as the shame set in. "If I must forgive a man his bitterness then surely you can excuse a woman's imprudence." Essex finally replied submissively, "I fear my reaction may have been brash and for that I would like to apologize.". The echo of sirens nearing sounded the arrival of the ambulance and the flash of red and blue lights illuminated the street as three police units pulled up to the scene of the accident.