The Keeper Of Drakul [ Chp.1]

Hey all, I've started work on a book. And, because you're all awesome, ill be posting the first few chapters here




"It's almost time..." Said an old voice from an aged man on a park bench who was watching the horizon where the ocean joined the sky seamlessly in the dark. The sun was going to rise in only an hour or so, and everytime he had sat there, every sunrise, it felt like the last one and yet it never was. This time, he had a young man next to him, who was holding his wrist and smiling gently while holding back tears.
"Don't be sad, Damien, this is a good day. If it is my time, then you'll become a man. Just remember everything I've taught you and you'll do fine. I can see it in your eyes that you will do well. You've shown me that you'll do well. Time and time again, you demonstrated skill that even I don't have. So be happy." The Old Man smiled and looked back to the horizon. Still dark. A little blue in the sky, but not much else.

This night, or morning, depending on how you look at it, was so special to the both of them. An important time that was an event that merited both celebration and sadness. It was both a passing of rights and of breath, of time and of knowledge. Neither of them really knew what it would entail, because neither of them had experienced this before. The Old Man should have, once, a long time ago. But this special event that was supposed to come to him during the morning, while he waited for the sunrise, all too long ago, was thrust onto him prematurely by a wicked hand.

Damien opened his mouth to speek, but paused.
"Now isn't the time to hesitate to ask me things, Damien. Just say what's on your mind."
"Do you remember how we met?"
It was so long ago. But he remembered all right. "Of course I do... Why?"
"I was just thinking about it. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you, and I never really thanked you... so...Th-"
"What I did needs no thanks. I did what I did because I had to. If I didn't, who would? Remember that. You can do great things. You will do great things. In time."
Damien broke the silence again, "I've always wondered, what were you doing in my town back then? I know you didn't just happen by the place."
There was a long silence between the two, augmented by slow winds and dry leaves rolling across the pavement. The sky was slightly more blue. Just slightly. Slightly closer to that moment, to that moment that decides everything. Another fourty years of an old life, or the start of another.
"I was just looking for someone - a woman."
"What was her name?"
"Lilith. She wasn't from around there, but-"
"Didn't know her. Let's stop talking, now. I need to concentrate, anyways."
"That, you do." Replied the Old Man.
"It's almost time," Damien said, Rhyming what his friend had said just a few moments ago, "almost..." he closed his eyes gently, and pressed his thumb a little harder against the skin on his old friend's wrist, with a whisper in his head that gently said in his mind, over and over, 'almost, almost.'

True, this place was special. This time was special.





It was night.
A man by the name of Richard Allen stood by a damaged sign that read WEST RIDGE POP. The rest was scratched off and lead to a hole where presumably the population count should be.

The town was a farming town, with all of it's houses and stores nestled and secluded inside the cold hug of forest land. Many of the homes were in decent condition, and would look nice with a couple of licks of paint and some woodwork. As Richard walked through the town he noticed that it was strangely quiet, it was late, but there was literally no sign of life. Not even a single stray animal. He peered into many windows as he searched the area, the homes were tidy and looked barely lived in, the stores were neatly stocked with all manner of things, they too, looked as if no one had ever entered. It was a ghost town, but he doubted even ghosts would live here. Even the street lights were off, suggesting there was no power to the town. The only light came from the moon, and the only sounds from the wind.
Richard turned with a sigh and was met with two round, metal circles before his face. He knew instantly that they belong to a double-barreled shotgun - It wasn't the first time he had gotten one pointed to his face - from behind it, spoke a voice from an old man, "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I'm just a drifter. Just passing by. Why's the town so quiet?" he replied,
The man lowered his gun and coughed then wiped his silver-bearded mouth with his red sleeve "Everyone's either left or dead." The man's eyes rolled up and down Richard's body, the man clearly knew Richard wasn't a drifter. He knew was here for a reason.
"You here to hunt Deer?" he asked,
"Nope. Why do you ask?" Richard assumed that the area must have been known bearing a lot of Deer,
"I noticed that pretty big knife in your boot. Looks like the kind you use for skinnin', y'know?"
"Well, I can assure you, it isn't for deer."
"So you are a hunter?"
"You could say that..." He looked to the sky and then to the old man again, who now had a strange twinkle in his eye like a child on Christmas. His silver, ragged hair was constantly blowing in front of his eyes, but the twinkle was more than noticeable.
"Listen, I could use some help from someone who's used to takin' out animals. See, I own the farm that's just on the other side of the forest, an' all my livestock has been gettin' killed by somethin'. You think you could skulk on up there and see what's causin' the trouble? I could compensate you."
Compensate. He had to mention a word that meant getting a form of payment for this deed. "In what way?"
"My brother owns that, there gunshop. Or at least, he used to. There's no one around to buy anythin' from it anymore, so I don't need the guns or the money. Frankly, I wanna get the hell outta this shit hole but that farm has been in my family for a hundred years - can't just up an' leave."
"Well, I suppose I could check out the area. I'll be back in a while." With that the man thanked him and quickly headed over to the gun shop that he had mentioned, while Richard made his way to the forest. He already knew where the farm was, having passed it on his way into town. He passed the damaged sign and up the dirt road that split the forest in two, then headed into the right half of it and headed forward through short grass and dirt.

The forest was like the town and didn't have so much as a fly in it. The trees looked more dead than alive as if something had just come along and sucked all the life out of the area. When Richard had left it, he was a little glad, the moon sat just atop a large hill, to the side of which was a huge barn, a small house, and a long, barbed wire fence that went around the edge of the farm, just kissing the mouth of the forest. He climbed over the fence with ease, readjusted his backpack, and headed up the hill. All over the grass were patches of a black, dry crust that must have once been blood and the closer he got to the barn, the more often he saw the patches of dry blood, and the bigger the patches became until finally he found the body of a cow.
The body looked like it had been rotting for a little while, with the ribs clearly showing through the skin. Along it's neck were four small, black dots - Puncture wounds. From what Richard could tell, the wounds were what killed the cow. The peculiar thing was that the wounds were too fresh, suggesting that either the cow had already been dead when it received the wounds... or something far worse.
He whipped his large backpack round and dumped it onto the grass, opened it and rooted around it's inside to find something. He felt it, heavy and cold, he withdrew the item which was a heavy pistol. It was completely silver, and had a 7-round barrel that was about 3 inches long. He pushed the barrel to the side, and it popped out. All of the chambers were holding it's unique ammunition so he popped it back into place, zipped up the backpack which he then slung over his shoulder, and headed quickly towards the barn with the pistol held pointing to the sky and close to his face. He was worried he might actually have to use it. To kill the things that it was designed specifically for.

The big, wooden, red doors of the barn sat half-open, there was light of a colour that suggest it came from a flame, or rather a candle, possibly several. He pressed his side against the wood of the door and gripped the pistol's handle tighter, before inching to the edge and peering inside.
He saw something strange, he was expecting strange, but not this strange. A man dressed in white robes with his hood pulled up was kneeling before a horse that lay on it's side. He was holding a strange, fleshy object that was grey and slightly wrinkled to the horses neck whose leg was now twitching slowly.
"Okay, weirdo, drop it!" shouted Richard as he burst in with his gun pointed directly at the robed man who replied with a quite laugh. "I mean it!"
"Do you?" He replied with a tone that suggested he wasn't intimidated at all. He took the strange grey thing away from the horse and put it into a small wooden box that seemed to be just big enough for it. It was shaped like a minature coffin. It's lid was closed firmly, it was lifted by the strange man who turned to Richard. His hood hid half of his face, but his smirk was showing clearly in the flickering light.
"So, what the hell is that thing?"
"Oh, this?" He patted the mini-coffin gently, "what do you think it is?"
Richard paused. He thought for a moment, and quickly realised that this man was perceptive enough to tell if he lied. He may as well be honest with the stranger "If I had to guess... I'd say it's a really fucked up Vampire."
"Oh?" The man's smirk grew, showing very white (and thankfully human) teeth, "and what would you know of such things? Hm?"
"I know they're a disease. Now drop the damn box."
"You don't get to tell me what to do. Perhaps I should teach you a lesson for being so rude." he laughed and kicked the horse which was abnormally quick in getting to it's feet. It's neck was bleeding a little from four little holes, just as the dead cow had, but that was not what Richard was paying attention to. His eyes were locked on it's teeth. Teeth which had turned pointed. It could easily do some damage with those, he thought, before the horse kicked into movement towards Richard. He acted quick and dropped to the floor, rolling to the right and pointing his gun to the horse. He fired - BANG - and the horse fell to the floor. As Richard stood he could see the man in the robe had escaped. He walked over to the horse which now had a silver stick poking out of the side of it's head. As he looked to it, he withdrew his knife from his right boot, which was also shiny, polished silver, and held the side of the blade against the animal's neck. A few seconds passed and nothing happend. He sighed and put the knife back into his boot, then grabbed the silver stick. He tugged and with a quiet crack it came free. It was now covered in thick, blood which he wiped off using the horse as a towel.
Richard looked to his gun and popped out the barrel again then put the silver stick into the single empty chamber and as he did realised he should head back to the town, he knew that man wouldn't leave just yet. So he stood and exited the barn and jumped as he heard a crow cackling at him in it's shrill voice, the outside of the barn was covered in crows. If that thing back there was indeed a Vampire, then this was a normal occurance. They often had a nack for making crows flock near their fallen prey.

Looking pretty good so far. c: I'd personally suggest looking at a couple of the sentence structures and maybe not capitalize everything, but that's me being nit-picky. Looks promising though.