Rev 1: Tried to smooth out pronoun vs name usage
Rev 2: More show, less tell. General fixes
The vampire fell to the ground like a manikin. He didn’t cry out when the bat hit him, and he didn’t raise his hands to protect himself from impacting against the floor. It was as if Ally had clicked a switch, and the force animating him had simply shut off. He was like a cut down tree for all the reaction he’d shown, almost peaceful in his collapse. She had been hoping to hurt him, but found his total lack of response unnerving.
Everyone around her was also still. The few she tried to make eye contact with looked away. Their expressions furtive beneath their masks. If she screamed, she knew they would bolt. This was probably shock. She should be in shock she supposed, instead the fear and adrenaline made her blood feel carbonated; she bounced on the balls of her feet, fizzing with energy. She forced out a breath, and breathed in deeply. The tension began to leak out of her shoulders like a deflating balloon. She edged the bat toward the vampire.
She wasn’t stupid. She should be hitting him again, but now that the moment had passed she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After the change, he looked so different, but he was still just a kid. He didn’t ask for this.
She’d seen this movie before though, this specific moment where the monster wasn’t really unconscious—it only pretended to be. She knew as soon as she touched him with the bat, he would roll over in a blur of motion, take it from her, and beat her to death with it. She had a scream ready in her throat. Monsters liked it when you thought you’d won. They were sadistic that way. Now she was in that movie. Damn! And it wasn’t a movie. She couldn’t wait any longer. She reached out to trigger the explosion, and lightly touched him with the bat.
Nothing.
She started circling to get a clear look at his face. His mouth hung open, the jaw distended much larger than normal. She could see elongated teeth sharpened to points—not just fangs, more shark like. That was unexpected. His skin was still dark like the night sky, and the glitter swirled across it like a small galaxy.
What was she supposed to do with an unconscious vampire? If that’s what he was. Surround him with crosses? Garlic? Stake through the heart? How exactly do you stake a vampire?
Ally saw Michaela struggling to get to her feet. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the other girl was drunk. She raised her voice, “Do you have any rope—anything to tie this guy up with?”
“Rope? I don’t—” Her voice was syrupy and slurred.
“Anything, do you have anything?” Ally was losing what little patience she had.
“—Duc duct tape. Could we use duct tape?” She’d placed her hands to her temples, and appeared to be forcing out each word. “I think—“
“Yes.” Ally wanted to scream. “Get it.”
Michaela ran back through the kitchen alcove.
Ally’s only warning came in a chorus of gasps. She looked down to find the vampire conscious, and staring at her with those burning eyes. She suddenly felt like she’d been wrapped in cellophane. She could no longer move. The air was heavy, and it was an effort to draw each breath into her lungs. It felt like she was being suffocated.
He then casually stood up, and almost as an afterthought, took the bat from her unresisting fingers. He smiled and leaned toward her to said conspiratorially in that hissing tone of his, “I used to play T-Ball.” He slowly licked her ear, and then took a few measured steps away. Taking a batter’s stance, he checked his swing right before it would connect with the bridge of her nose.
Ally felt the fear like thousands of tiny insects erupt from deep inside to swarm over her skin. She knew that when he swung that bat again her head would look like an exploding melon—no, a Jackson Pollack painting. She was going to die. These were the stupid things you think when you die.
“Now stand still,” he said, as he choked up on the bat. She couldn’t even close her eyes. She would see the swing before she felt it. There wasn’t even the mercy of a blindfold; she would see everything. So when Michaela ran into her field of vision and sucker punched the vampire by smashing a half full coffee pot against his head, Ally saw the glass of the pot shatter, and saw hot coffee scald his face. This time he did scream, only to have it cut off abruptly, as he collapsed quietly to the floor.
“I couldn’t find the duct tape,” said Michaela.
Ally’s tried to take a step toward her, stumbled and fell, only to have Michaela catch her.
“I don’t feel so good,” she slurred.
“It’ll pass.” Michaela held her upright.
This feeling reminded Ally of the time she'd accidentally taken her father's painkillers. He used to store them in an aspirin bottle. She’d had a headache and had taken some of them. They'd found her at the kitchen table, head down and drooling on herself. She'd been carried to bed, and still didn't have the clearest memories of that day. So when a pimp and a gorilla grabbed the vampire, zip tied his arms behind his back, and carried him off, she wasn't sure if she was hallucinating.
Rev 2: More show, less tell. General fixes
Chapter 7
The vampire fell to the ground like a manikin. He didn’t cry out when the bat hit him, and he didn’t raise his hands to protect himself from impacting against the floor. It was as if Ally had clicked a switch, and the force animating him had simply shut off. He was like a cut down tree for all the reaction he’d shown, almost peaceful in his collapse. She had been hoping to hurt him, but found his total lack of response unnerving.
Everyone around her was also still. The few she tried to make eye contact with looked away. Their expressions furtive beneath their masks. If she screamed, she knew they would bolt. This was probably shock. She should be in shock she supposed, instead the fear and adrenaline made her blood feel carbonated; she bounced on the balls of her feet, fizzing with energy. She forced out a breath, and breathed in deeply. The tension began to leak out of her shoulders like a deflating balloon. She edged the bat toward the vampire.
She wasn’t stupid. She should be hitting him again, but now that the moment had passed she couldn’t bring herself to do it. After the change, he looked so different, but he was still just a kid. He didn’t ask for this.
She’d seen this movie before though, this specific moment where the monster wasn’t really unconscious—it only pretended to be. She knew as soon as she touched him with the bat, he would roll over in a blur of motion, take it from her, and beat her to death with it. She had a scream ready in her throat. Monsters liked it when you thought you’d won. They were sadistic that way. Now she was in that movie. Damn! And it wasn’t a movie. She couldn’t wait any longer. She reached out to trigger the explosion, and lightly touched him with the bat.
Nothing.
She started circling to get a clear look at his face. His mouth hung open, the jaw distended much larger than normal. She could see elongated teeth sharpened to points—not just fangs, more shark like. That was unexpected. His skin was still dark like the night sky, and the glitter swirled across it like a small galaxy.
What was she supposed to do with an unconscious vampire? If that’s what he was. Surround him with crosses? Garlic? Stake through the heart? How exactly do you stake a vampire?
Ally saw Michaela struggling to get to her feet. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought the other girl was drunk. She raised her voice, “Do you have any rope—anything to tie this guy up with?”
“Rope? I don’t—” Her voice was syrupy and slurred.
“Anything, do you have anything?” Ally was losing what little patience she had.
“—Duc duct tape. Could we use duct tape?” She’d placed her hands to her temples, and appeared to be forcing out each word. “I think—“
“Yes.” Ally wanted to scream. “Get it.”
Michaela ran back through the kitchen alcove.
Ally’s only warning came in a chorus of gasps. She looked down to find the vampire conscious, and staring at her with those burning eyes. She suddenly felt like she’d been wrapped in cellophane. She could no longer move. The air was heavy, and it was an effort to draw each breath into her lungs. It felt like she was being suffocated.
He then casually stood up, and almost as an afterthought, took the bat from her unresisting fingers. He smiled and leaned toward her to said conspiratorially in that hissing tone of his, “I used to play T-Ball.” He slowly licked her ear, and then took a few measured steps away. Taking a batter’s stance, he checked his swing right before it would connect with the bridge of her nose.
Ally felt the fear like thousands of tiny insects erupt from deep inside to swarm over her skin. She knew that when he swung that bat again her head would look like an exploding melon—no, a Jackson Pollack painting. She was going to die. These were the stupid things you think when you die.
“Now stand still,” he said, as he choked up on the bat. She couldn’t even close her eyes. She would see the swing before she felt it. There wasn’t even the mercy of a blindfold; she would see everything. So when Michaela ran into her field of vision and sucker punched the vampire by smashing a half full coffee pot against his head, Ally saw the glass of the pot shatter, and saw hot coffee scald his face. This time he did scream, only to have it cut off abruptly, as he collapsed quietly to the floor.
“I couldn’t find the duct tape,” said Michaela.
Ally’s tried to take a step toward her, stumbled and fell, only to have Michaela catch her.
“I don’t feel so good,” she slurred.
“It’ll pass.” Michaela held her upright.
This feeling reminded Ally of the time she'd accidentally taken her father's painkillers. He used to store them in an aspirin bottle. She’d had a headache and had taken some of them. They'd found her at the kitchen table, head down and drooling on herself. She'd been carried to bed, and still didn't have the clearest memories of that day. So when a pimp and a gorilla grabbed the vampire, zip tied his arms behind his back, and carried him off, she wasn't sure if she was hallucinating.
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The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
