- (no subject)
- May 29th, 2009
I've had this 4 i little while i wrote it just before i started revision for my exams im just wondering how it sounds. I havent done any planning for this it was just something that came into my head to i wrote it down thought i'd share. Ok there was a little bad language in there but i've covered the few word's so what im saying is just use ur imagination. :D
“Werewolves, vamps, zombies, you name it we got it. Step right up and have you’re picture taking with the flesh eating zombie of legends or the Prince of darkness himself, however fair maidens beware of his sweet kiss!” Boomed the fat jolly ring master in his red velvet uniform.
This is the Nightmare Circus, the only place in the world were tourists could find controlled werewolves or muzzled Zombies. The place was a s@£! tip. The Circus was once a place were children could come and pet the lama Snowy and then beg there flustered parents to let them ride the fairest wheel only to scream to be let down once reaching the top.
I came here as a child, and I heck I was the one screaming to be let off. Back then my life was so much easier I never had to worry about having a run in with a rabid Were or blood crazed vamp.
My name is Keira Logan apparently I don’t exist, well that was the idea anyway. You see I work for the British Government keeping all things supernatural in an organised order.
Were called the British Homeland Security-Supernatural Division ‘BHS-SD’ for short, we were a secret organisation before the vampire and Werewolf wars began, and finished in bloodshed that nearly exterminated both species. After that the government thought it best to break the news to the British public, not that they couldn’t guess for themselves anymore.
Now here was a place were tourists came to watch a Zombie rip apart a bloodied cow corpse or try there luck patting the broken Werewolves. The place was heaving every night, you have to book tickets just to get in now.
Crap! I lost my footing on the wood covered floor. I landed hard onto my knees, scuffing my hands. Hands gripped around my arms helping me to rise off the floor.
Bloody heels, note to self never were heels ever again. Dont know why i even bothered A** hole stood me up any way.
Looking over the heads of people around me I searched for the nearest place to wash the crap off my hands. My hands were caked with wet wood chips and mud. Luckily the ladies room was about three meters away. They ladies room was worse than the Circus, it wasn’t even good enough to s*** in. Graffiti covered the smoke stained yellow walls many people had agreed with me on the state of the place.
The tape water was cold and I had to grit my teeth just to keep my hands under it to wash off the dirt.
Whoa Ninja test or what. I thought to myself.
Rubbing my numb hands together to get rid of thhe numb feeling I left the smelly room looking a little better than before. I walked back through the sea of onlookers as the ring master in his read velvet suit made a Werewolf jump through a flaming hoop.
The distinct smell of burning hair drifted through the audience. The crowed applaud the while the Werewolf systematically began licking his burnt hide.
“Ladies and gentle men for our next I would like a volunteer.” The crowed was in up roar, the place erupted into ’pick me’s’ and screams of despair when the ring master’s assistant, a busty half clothed blond woman, chose a short attractive man with carrot orange hair and a lean frame.
The man seemed unsure of the close proximity with the tame Werewolves. The tension was strung across his shoulders like a back pack. The Werewolves were harmless they had been broken the bests that they once were had been tormented out of them leaving only the an obedient shell of it’s former self behind. Werewolves are very rare and hard to find, they are born not made like the child hood stories say, if a normal person was to find a werewolf they wouldn’t have to worry about being bitten and turned into a Werewolf because they wouldn’t live long enough to find out, there saliva is poisonous to humans. Me on the other hand, it’s my job to find them and kill the ones that are causing the problems. The joys of working for the British Government.
However vampires can be made, but the process is more complicated than just a single bite and a few swigs of you’re lovers mature blood, the process takes about three days to recover from. Three days of being repeatedly drained to near death and topped up with live human blood, it’s supposed to be the most painful experience of you’re life or death. Whatever. My job is to keep there numbers down to a bare minimum which according to my boss means ‘kill them all’ but he doesn’t say that, after all it's politically incorrect.
The man with the orange hair was standing next to the ring master helping him hold the three six foot Werewolves’ back with a solid looking chain. As four male assistants dressed in black leather dragged the carcass of a goat into the middle of the floor I felt the hairs on the back of my neck again begin to rise. Someone was watching me. My eye’s swept the crowd searching for my admirer, not really watching the show below.
A scream brought me back to the show one of the Werewolves had taken a bit out of the buxom blond assistant and began ripping open her chest, and devoured her still beating heart. I threw my self over the barrier and ran as fast as I could in the black three inch heels trying my best to stay vertical. The crowds all rush to the doors crying and screaming in horror. Carrot head was cowering around behind the podium with the ring master right beside him. Men in leather circled around the six foot five blood crazed Werewolf with tranquiliser guns and a silver muzzle big enough to fit a small child into. The men shot and a rainbow of darts decorated themselves all over the Were’s light furred body. With a howl it dropped the dead blond assistant on the floor chest gaping open and charged towards the stupefied leather clad men.
Grunting I placed myself in between leather boys and the big bad Werewolf. Standing in between a charging blood crazed Werewolf and it pray is not a good idea, unless you’re carrying a sawed off shot gun filled with silver pellets under you’re coat. The crazed creature kept charging towards me, when it was two short breaths away from me i levelled the shotgun to it’s thigh and pulled the trigger. It reared off to the right crashing into the sliver plated walls howling in agony. I watched as the thing wreathed clawing at it’s smoking leg trying to dig out the silver, striding towards the growling hissing Werewolf I looked her straight in the eye and shot at her point blank.
In slow motion crimson beads fell to the floor with skull fragments and brain matter, all of it was smoking from the fresh silver infected wound's. She stopped moving instantly it was the only kind thing left to do for her, once a Were has been shot with silver it’s a slow death sentence, there is no fast healing from it, the silver attacks and kills there ability to heal and slowly carves through the body poisoning them for days weeks until they finally die. That is why they are all so rare many still think it good sport to hunt them.
“Who the f*** do you think you are coming in hear and blowing my act’s hearts out of there bleeding chests, when you had already neutralised it!” The ringmaster had come out of his hiding place now trying his best to look brave and unfazed by the attack, instead he just came off as a frightened ninny who ran away at the first sign of danger.
Annoyed I put my shot gun back inside my holster and pulled out my official badge that shows I work for the British Homeland Security-Supernatural Division ‘BHS-SD’ for short.
“Special agent Keira Logan with the BHS-SD what I’m doing hear is destroying a potential threat to the public.” Actually I came to meet a blind date my friend had set up for me, story of my life the git stood me up.
I was standing over the short fat man now and I could see the sweat coming through his red velvet uniform. Huffing himself up to make him feel more dominate he was ready for a fight. Silencing the man’s sputtering with a wave of my hand I used my phone to speed dial for back up.
“British Homeland Security - Supernatural Division office how can I help you?” Said a very calm and collective voice.
“This is special Agent Keira Logan requesting a forensic and clean up crew down to the Nightmare Circus immediately.” Just in the background I could hear my boss shouting curses about how it’s was always me. Speaker phone. Great.
“One will be sent there shortly.”
“Thanks” I hung up the phone. Less than ten seconds later my phone began to buzz. Looking down at the caller I.D I inwardly cringed it was my boss Damian.
“Agent Logan.” I said with out a single shred of irony. Brownie points for me.
“What have you done now?!” he hissed down the phone “I don’t want to know ill see when I get there. Jesus, Mary and Joseph Logan someone better be alive when I get there.” and he hung up.
It took three years of self discipline to stop my self from throwing my phone into the solid silver caked wall. What was the point in that phone call.
“You cant get me for anything. I did nothing wrong. Now I will not allow my arena to lose money over something that was obviously the Girls fault ” Said the ringmaster defiantly with purple blotches forming on his cheeks, I could have traced my fingers along the veins protruding from his temporal lobes.
Turning around slowly, I looked the sad little man right in the face. “I can have you arrested for placing a member of the public in immediate danger, Feeding a dangerous animal without the proper safety precautions and the obstruction of justice.” I am so not in the mood to deal with this. “How about that for starters and we’ll just see what else gets dug up in the investigation.” ok I have nothing else, but I was pissed off and this guy was asking for it.
No sure if every thing in that makes sense but all's the same i just want to see peoples reaction to this to see if it was any gd.
Hugs and Loves, Plz comment.