Beautiful Disaster

Prologue

*If you read this please comment!!! Will be very apreciated whether you think its utter and complete crap(which you probably won't) or you think it's sheer brilliance. I just wanna know what you think of it=)*

Beautiful Disaster

By

Devon J. Thomas

Beautiful Disaster is loosely inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song of the same name.

Part 1: Cap

"And if I could hold on to the tears and the laughter, Lord would it be beautiful, or just a beautiful disaster."

Prologue

June 18th 1847

His throat was dry. Too dry

Capriano Delguard's eyes shot open, the loud pattering of the summer rain shooting at his eardrums. He felt an unexplainable thirst. His mind tried to recall the night's events but whenever his mind tried to remember what had happened, it slipped away to an image of a girl whose neck pulsated with the thing he needed.

Blood.

Yes! That was it! he thought.

He remembered what she said. He needed blood to survive. And not animal blood. To her the thought alone of consuming an animal was repulsive. Instead, she'd told him that he needed fresh, human blood.

He looked around the dimly lit bedroom, shuddering as the previous night's events replayed in his head, and stood up. The dry burn in his throat increased and he reached with his hand towards his neck, feeling two faint punctures in his skin. She'd done this. She'd given him the marks that made him think of a dark creature he heard whispered about in tales of horror.

But that couldn't be true, could it? He refused to believe in the old man's tale of undead creatures roaming the night and drinking the blood of the living to stay alive. But how else could he explain his strong craving for blood and puncture marks on his neck?

He shook away the questions that racked his brain and slowly stood, leaning against the wall beside him. His body ached all over. It felt as if he'd run a thousand miles the day before.

He limped towards the door at the far right of the room, grabbed the handle and pulled. But when he pulled the handle down, the door didn't open. Instead, the handle broke off and Capriano stared at it, puzzled. He felt like he was in a daze. Oddly, his vision was muddled but his hearing was amazingly acute. He could feel his canine teeth elongating into sharp fangs at the mere thought of consuming the life-giving crimson.

Entranced by the thought of curing his thirst, Capriano limped his way out of the abandoned hall.

Only, it wasn't abandoned. Just a few meters away Capriano could register the beating of a heart and the cry of a woman. The beat hypnotized him, the rhythmic pulse pulling him in like a trance.

The woman was huddled over a body that dripped of blood and she cried out in pain. His own pulse slowed down and all of his attention was drawn to the woman with the hypnotizing pulse and the body that dripped blood.

He needed it.

As much as he tried to shake the feeling away, it did not go away, instead, the feeling of utter and complete bloodlust consumed him and Capriano gulped slowly.

"May I help you, ma'am?" he asked slowly, his eyes centered on the blood on the floor and on the woman's clothes.

"Yes, it's my son. He's dead!" she said with pain reflecting in her tear-strung eyes. Her face reminded him of somebody he knew, but his mind was too busy thinking of ways to kill her, than to think of whom.

The woman moved away from the body with her hands plastered to her mouth, her blue eyes red from crying. Now he could see the man lying dead on the floor, blood gushing from his neck. And just like that, everything else disappeared and the only thing he could focus on was the blood that flowed from him like a stream. It smelt like nothing he'd ever smelt before and as he inched closer to the man, his knee supporting his weight, the blood grew more and more tempting.

He reached his hand to touch the blood; the liquid that touched his skin sent a wave of awe through him. His breath ceased to exist as his hand drew closer towards his face. The coppery smell of it smelled nothing like it had once smelled like just moments ago. This time he wasn't appalled by the blood. Instead, he was entrance, enticed, and engrossed by the blood. His finger touched the skin of his tongue, the taste of the blood igniting his taste buds. It was as if this whole time he'd been feeding on tasteless rocks but now as his tongue savored the delicious enigmatic taste of blood, they were awakened from their 16 year long sleep.

He leaned forward to the boy and when his lips met with his neck, his body flourished in pleasure. Greedily, he began drinking the boy's blood, not even caring when his fangs nicked the skin of his hungry tongue.

"Wait! What, what are you doing?!" the woman's voice breaking his unparalleled attention to the boy's blood.

He turned his face to look at her, his fangs fully exposed and mouth covered in her son's blood. A scream echoed through his ears and the woman began to run, her fear sending a surge of adrenaline through his veins. He got up instantly and ran for her, her pace not nearly as fast as his, even with his still paining limbs.

Pouncing on her, he dragged her to the ground and sank his newfound fangs into the skin of her neck.

Capriano Delguard limped his way towards the doors of his Victorian mansion. His lips were still stained with the remnants of fresh blood and his soaked ruffled dress shirt was still stained with blood.

When he reached the porch, he pushed the door lightly and as it creaked open, a single thought raced through his mind: he'd killed someone and drank them dry. He was a monster.

The dim glow of the moon revealed the yellow walls and white wood paneling of the entrance. One single large staircase led the way upstairs to the main bedroom of the house, where his love was waiting for him.

He limped along the stairs, keeping his support on the wooden rails of the staircase. His body ached more now than before he fed - something he found baffling since he thought that the blood would cure him. But instead, he wanted blood now more than ever.

"Capriano?" his love, Elizabeth's voice roared through the otherwise empty house.

She appeared at the beginning of the staircase, her body showing through the shear material of the nightgown.

"God, what happened to you?" she asked with effluent worry in her voice.

"I, I got into a fight," he lied, somehow finding out how to talk in the midst of it all. He didn't dare tell her he died, and then killed a woman.

"Oh you poor thing," she said running down the stairs towards him.

"No! Stay away!" he urged her, fearing that he'd kill her instantly if her pulse got any closer to his fangs. She didn't listen.

"Why?" she asked as she walked closer towards him.

"I'm, I'm not right..." he tried to sternly convince her to stay away from her but his voice just ended up trailing off.

"That's why I need to help you," she told him as he stepped down until he once again stood in the entrance hall.

"Please," he begged. Even through his bloodlust he knew he wouldn't be able to stand himself if he'd kill her.

She dared to walk closer until she eliminated the space between them. Her hand touched his chest, instantly igniting desire within him. He leaned closer to her and her touch trailed from his blood-soaked shirt to his neck, until they gently caressed the side of his face.

Her clover eyes met with his black eyes and slowly she lifted her head before he leaned in towards her, not to kiss her - though his lips brushed lightly against the skin just below her chin - but to insert his deadly fangs into the delicate skin of her neck.