Time for a story ramble. I mentioned in another post that I started writing a vampire story. I didn’t expect it to get much attention, but the characters are holding me captive. They keep talking to me, which gets really embarrassing when I laugh aloud in the middle of class or walking down the sidewalk.
Anyway, it’s being told from the POV of the vampires and I’m trying to make them the evil I think they should be. (Yes, I read and enjoyed Twilight, but sparkly vampires are just not what I want.)
For the most part, the story follows Elsier and Alexandria. Elsier has been dead for four hundred years and he’s so self-serving it’s beautiful. Alexandria was created by Elsier twelve years ago. So she’s young and idealistic with notions of love and such.
I’ve never written evil before and it’s amazing. Pretty much all my other characters have been the good guy, which is why I suck at writing villains. But these are the villains. Even thought they’re the protagonists. Even though everything is going wrong for them. Even though I’m trying to create a connection with them. They’re still bad guys.
Every time I think something is evil, I immediately e-mail it to my husband just to make sure it’s not my usual sissy evil. As sweet as he is, evil comes more naturally to him. Not sure how that works, but I’m glad it does.
So far, I think this is my favorite conversation:
“You really are heartless,” Alexandria said, leaning on the corner of the desk. “You don’t have an emotional bone in your body.”
“And someday you’ll be just like me.”
“No, I’ll never be like you.”
Elsier came from the closet, his hands folded behind his back. He walked forward until he stood right in front of her. Those eyes stared down and a smile creeped across his lips.
“We are the damned, Alexandria. You’ve only been dead for twelve years and in that time, how many have you killed?”
She looked to the floor, ashamed. All the people she’d murdered, some accidents, some not. But every time, the kill came easier. The decision made quicker. With one finger, he lifted her face to see him.
“You are no longer human. How long do you think you can hold onto your humanity? Fifty years? A hundred? Five hundred? We’re all monsters. You’re just a younger one.”
Elsier makes me smile.
I’m also playing to the traditions. They are the damned, meaning they have no soul. Because they don’t have a soul, they also don’t have shadows or reflections. They won’t appear in pictures and can’t enter a church if the ground beneath it has been consecrated. Holy water, stakes, sunlight. Not garlic, that just annoys them because it reeks.