Jocelyn Elizabeth Addicts : Forum : Third Person ReWrite: Exclusiv..

Third Person ReWrite: Exclusive

13 Years Ago

Author's Note: In the future I would like to expand Immortalis to third person. I want to spend more time with Kaleb and Bailee's characters. Bailee is coming across as too much of an airhead, and Kaleb has no real background. This is the beginnings to a very long project: 


Ainslee Parish felt his grip tightening around her ankle, his talons digging deeper into her flesh. She cried out, clawing desperately at the hardwood floor. Splinters pricked her fingertips. Tears spilled down her cheeks.


Death had settled like a stubborn haze upon the farmhouse, invading every room and every lung. It lurked in the stale night, reeking of vomit. Within these blood-splattered walls was born absolute darkness.


It plagued the stair where her father perched like a broken marionette. Tangled and twisted, his limbs were snapped, his face stricken with absolute horror. A pair of green eyes stared from the lifeless corpse, wide and fearful. Her father was dead. At this point, everyone was dead.

Everyone had died, and soon would she. Penetrating the thick of panic, her mind absorbed the single thought. She was going to die. Her heart rate quickened, her mind fed from instinct. A surge of adrenalin tore through her system, pulsing through every vein and artery.


She thrashed back and forth with newfound strength, his vice-like grip loosening around her ankle. She was free, springing to her feet and bolting down the corridor. Her entire frame was weak and bruised. Her lungs burned for oxygen, sweet life.


The hallway stirred with a flash of movement. A silhouette blocked the staircase, dark and looming. Blackness consumed him, all except for the white of his canines. Her body struck his, the scream catching raw in her windpipe.


Seizing a fistful of blonde, the monster hauled her towards the bedroom. Anger resonated from his powerful frame like the stench of decay.


He launched her to the bed, ignoring the desperate plea. The box spring squealed beneath her weight, and then his.


�The more you fight it, the more it hurts.� She could hear the saliva in his mouth forming each word.


�Please�� Golden eyes spilled over with tears. Her vision faded as powerful fingers wrapped around her throat. Tearing open her cotton shirt, he shoved her hard into the mattress. 


�Shh.� He hushed, leaning down to slide his teeth across her neck.


Her body pleaded for oxygen beneath his. Sharp fangs sunk into her artery with a pinch. Agony skewed her senses. Teeth scraped nerves as they gnawed through her flesh. Prying desperately at his icy fingers, blood pooled around her limp body.


Weakness spread like a heavy fog. She was barely able to grasp the last thread of consciousness. Ripping eagerly at her shorts, he growled like a vicious beast. And then the thread snapped. Ainslee Parish was lost to the darkness.