A Thousand Words
- LECTURES 3,911
- Votes 297
- Chapitres 8
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THE VAMPIRE VITTORIA | THE ACCOUNT OF AN IMMORTAL PAST
The ancient and tragic journey of the vampire Vittoria de Luca Bonenfant as she so vividly recalls. The struggles of an immortality she deems to be forsaken by God. A Christian who is loath to see her faith wain. A vampire with the profound inability to take mortal life and allow the warmth of human blood to make florid her pallor skin so that she might not be, in her view, this grotesque and perfect vision of conscious death. A vampire at a loss as she wanders the grey twilight- » » With you I leave my confessions, as in those wretched wooden rooms. Do with it as you like; tell it to your one, or to many, or burn it with my rosary, which I surely have blasphemed. How long ago the mortal soul in me was lost, I do not know. How long ago since I said, "Take me," with such hatred in my eyes. "Take me now from this cruelty!" But non, He would not. I know He has left me, my God, my Savior, my Abandoner, turned His crystalline gaze from my ruin. But with nervous hands and nervous breath did I pray to Him still, my breast cracked asunder as I strained to hear Him. But lo, that I heard the cold laughter of the Morning Star, and was blinded by the Son of Dawn. I said the words, "I will not go with you, Devil," and the Devil, who became the serpent of my rosary, and like a strange stigmata, bit my praying palm, pressed my fingerstips to his pallid lids, as though he felt a pull at his heart like so many strings. I loath him and do unto him cruel things. I like to do it. Because it is I, alas, who had become the Devil in the end, a savage Devil with sweet, ruddy tears at the rending of mortal flesh. Now, I daresay, no earthly living thing binds me to gracious mortal empathy, that mortal beating heart in its miserable rhythm. I have not eyes for their mourning visage, nor ears for their desperate cries. No heart for them. No heart. No heart that He may never forgive. #1 Poetic Prose #1 Musing photo credit: Laura Makabresku
Reincarnated into a fantasy world
After you got killed prematurely, a goddess from another world decided to bring you back to life in a fantasy world. But in exchange for your new life, she asked you to do her a simple favor; not to kill the demon lord, and do not interfere with the hero in any way possible. And that was a simple request you agreed to, but not without its consequences.
Headless Villainess
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. In the current world I am a selfish villainess that lived as she liked; in the previous world I lived modestly. The result of my self-centered, spoiled lifestyle was to be cheated on by my fiancee, the prince, who after conspiring with his lover, broke off his engagement with me and as the result of a strict trial, my execution was decided. And thankfully as a noble I received an 'honorable' death by guillotine. And so, after I was decapitated by the guillotine, I was reborn into a corpse... Re"born"? No wait, I don't even have a head, what are you telling me to do now?Terminé
🥀 The Life I chose 🥀
《Made by the attempts to escape the shackles of her past...a girl learns to use love as a pawn in her vindictiveness and vindication. There is a danger when you don't leave the past behind, and reinvent your life; that at some point you'll look at yourself and no longer recognize who you see. A sequel to Life is a choice.》 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ••My grin enlarged. If I had fangs, damn they would make me look fucking gorgeous. A true messenger of death. Releasing a soft sigh I eyed him down. "This will hurt you more than it will to me." •• *Completed* [[Word count: 50 000+]]Terminé
She Becomes A Passive Villainess-NOT!
Falling into the fiery hell she created must've been the perfect way for her to die. The other woman would then become the heroine that saved the town's people from the mad queen that burnt half of the population down and the duke would become the hero that protected the heroine. They would then be wed and have little children. They would live happily in the new world that they would create after vanquishing the evil queen. They would then lead the people unto a prosperous era of peace. Just... Where?... Where did I go wrong? When I am reborn, will you please give me a simple life?Terminé
My Life, My Rules - Fuck Fate
They called me the villainess. The jealous friend. The shadow that existed only to make her shine. Her name? Lilith. The heroine. The angel draped in silk smiles and fake innocence. The same girl who betrayed me in the novel I devoured before my death. But here's the twist when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't me. I was her. Stephanie Rose. The girl doomed to die at eighteen, betrayed, broken, forgotten. At least, that's what fate planned for me. But I refuse to follow the script. If destiny thinks it can kill me off like some disposable side character, it's wrong. If Lilith believes I'll kneel at her feet while she steals everything from me, she's even more wrong. I am Stephanie Rose 🥀 the so-called villainess. And I'll rewrite this story with my own hands, dripping ink in blood if I have to. No one can stop me. Not Lilith. Not fate. Not even the author who wrote my death. Because this time, I won't die. This time, they will.
The ancient and tragic journey of the vampire Vittoria de Luca Bonenfant as she so vividly recalls. The struggles of an immortality she deems to be forsaken by God. A Christian who is loath to see her faith wain. A vampire with the profound inability to take mortal life and allow the warmth of human blood to make florid her pallor skin so that she might not be, in her view, this grotesque and perfect vision of conscious death. A vampire at a loss as she wanders the grey twilight- » » With you I leave my confessions, as in those wretched wooden rooms. Do with it as you like; tell it to your one, or to many, or burn it with my rosary, which I surely have blasphemed. How long ago the mortal soul in me was lost, I do not know. How long ago since I said, "Take me," with such hatred in my eyes. "Take me now from this cruelty!" But non, He would not. I know He has left me, my God, my Savior, my Abandoner, turned His crystalline gaze from my ruin. But with nervous hands and nervous breath did I pray to Him still, my breast cracked asunder as I strained to hear Him. But lo, that I heard the cold laughter of the Morning Star, and was blinded by the Son of Dawn. I said the words, "I will not go with you, Devil," and the Devil, who became the serpent of my rosary, and like a strange stigmata, bit my praying palm, pressed my fingerstips to his pallid lids, as though he felt a pull at his heart like so many strings. I loath him and do unto him cruel things. I like to do it. Because it is I, alas, who had become the Devil in the end, a savage Devil with sweet, ruddy tears at the rending of mortal flesh. Now, I daresay, no earthly living thing binds me to gracious mortal empathy, that mortal beating heart in its miserable rhythm. I have not eyes for their mourning visage, nor ears for their desperate cries. No heart for them. No heart. No heart that He may never forgive. #1 Poetic Prose #1 Musing photo credit: Laura Makabresku
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