Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

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gkmoberg1
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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by gkmoberg1 » Tue Feb 02, 2021 3:49 am

gkmoberg1 wrote:
Mon Feb 01, 2021 8:53 pm
dongregg wrote:
Sun Jan 31, 2021 9:25 pm
Attention GK, PeteMork, and other WTI members. I hope you will continue to comment on andmkr's splendid work in progress, Let the Wrong One Out. You know how much I depended on your encouragement for Set Me As a Seal. :wub:
@dongregg ... thank you for the nudge. I confess I am behind. My bad, entirely :!: Here goes...
I started from the beginning. Why not? It is a good story and I am enjoying all as I come along. I am up to ch9 ~ what fun. I think I am about to the point where I was? Perhaps a bit farther yet. Anyway, @andmker, you're writing a wonderful story :)

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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by andmker » Tue Feb 02, 2021 7:45 pm

dongregg wrote:
Mon Feb 01, 2021 8:18 pm
Poor Eli! If she turns him to save his life, won' he go through life with a chest wound? Well, I trust you to work through this tight corner. :)
Yeah my intention was always should Oscar be injured and Eli turns him, that injury would always remain.

To do so otherwise felt too "fairytale" like.

andmker
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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by andmker » Tue Feb 02, 2021 7:47 pm

gkmoberg1 wrote:
Tue Feb 02, 2021 3:49 am
gkmoberg1 wrote:
Mon Feb 01, 2021 8:53 pm
dongregg wrote:
Sun Jan 31, 2021 9:25 pm
Attention GK, PeteMork, and other WTI members. I hope you will continue to comment on andmkr's splendid work in progress, Let the Wrong One Out. You know how much I depended on your encouragement for Set Me As a Seal. :wub:
@dongregg ... thank you for the nudge. I confess I am behind. My bad, entirely :!: Here goes...
I started from the beginning. Why not? It is a good story and I am enjoying all as I come along. I am up to ch9 ~ what fun. I think I am about to the point where I was? Perhaps a bit farther yet. Anyway, @andmker, you're writing a wonderful story :)
Thanks. Get reading... a lot more chapters 😊

andmker
Posts: 175
Joined: Tue Nov 03, 2020 6:22 pm

Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by andmker » Wed Feb 03, 2021 11:01 pm

******** CHAPTER NINETEEN **************

What is a promise?

It was a question that Eli had asked herself many times over the years. It was a question that she was wrestling with now. What if you once made a promise many years ago, but sticking to it would destroy you and cause the death of another? The last time Eli turned someone (on purpose) was nearly fifty years ago. She had been alone for some time – years in fact, when a young artist befriended her. At that period her existence involved walking through the streets of Örebro looking for someone to feed on and then looking for somewhere to hide before sunrise. It had been months since she had even spoken to anyone. When a street artist flagged her down and gestured for her to come over to him – Eli thought he would be her next meal. Then something unexpected happened.

“You’re very pretty. Have a seat and I’ll draw your portrait.”
She was struck by the sincerity on his face and in his voice. At the time Eli felt a lot of things but pretty was not one of them. She hadn’t bathed in months, maybe years – didn’t seem important to keep track. Her face was black with dirt and grime from resting and sleeping on floors, and her clothes were so encrusted with filth that they had started to unify and attach to the bare skin beneath them. Everyone who saw her thought the same thing – just some random homeless kid who would be dead soon. Pretty? The meaning of the word took some time to process.

“I don’t have any money for it,” she finally replied after clearing her throat.
The artist smiled and told her that her eyes meant that he would pay her for the chance to capture her likeness. With that comment, Eli sat down opposite the man somewhat confused but after all, there was nothing else on her agenda that night.

“Just turn slightly and smile.”
Eli turned her head just a tad as requested but did not smile – she had forgotten how. The artist set up a fresh canvas and sharpened his pencils before beginning.

“Are you not cold?” he asked her a few minutes after the portrait had begun.
“I don’t feel it.”
The man nodded as if he understood and his eyes took a fleeting look down to Eli’s bare feet. He couldn’t help notice a few of her toes looked like they were broken and most of her nails were damaged or missing.

“You’re lucky, I wake up most nights with pain in my fingers. It’s sort of an occupational hazard.”

He wanted to ask her more questions but her answers had been non-existent or vague so instead, the artist did what was promised and continued to draw. Eli sat like a statue but allowed her eyes to move and scan over examples of previous works that were perched against the wall. Every picture looked great, everyone looked happy in them. Her stomach grumbled loudly, almost as if the thing inside her was asking what was she doing? Why had she not just fed on and killed the man yet? It would be easy, there were few people around, and then she could retreat back and find somewhere to shelter. She overruled that hunger knowing that there would be plenty of drunken people down at the river to target later.

“Do you have a family?” she asked the artist. Her question prompted by his existing examples of work. He seemed to draw families or children and little else.
“My wife died in childbirth. Our baby just over a week later, so just me now.”

Eli supposed that she was meant to say something back, or make some sort of gesture that expressed sympathy. She did not – they were dead and that’s the way it was.

A short time later the artist had finished the portrait and nodded pleased at what was on the canvas. He turned it to show Eli and she almost smiled at what she saw. It was a detailed and attractive pencil rendering of her shoulders, neck, face, and hair. He had made her look almost human, almost what she looked like back when she was a boy. The artist seemed pleased at the hint of emotion on her face.

“Listen, I’m pretty much done for the night. Do you want to come back to my place? It’s not far.”
Eli looked at the man suspiciously and practically demanded to know why.

“Somewhere warm and somewhere safe for the night. The spare room has a lock on the door if that helps.”
She looked at the portrait the artist had drawn and despite not being completely sure of his agenda, agreed to return with him.

“Do you have any family?” he asked as his equipment was being packed up.
“No. It’s just me now.”


Meanwhile back in the modern day – promise or no promise – Eli had no other choice. There would be consequences for both of them regardless of the outcome. The difficultly was that Oscar had already lost a lot of blood. Eli was ‘unsure’ if it would even be possible and if it was, the injury to his chest would never fully heal. She had not done this very often but the process could sometimes go wrong and as she bit into Oscar’s neck – penetrating his skin easily – she wondered if this would save him or just prolong his suffering.

Putting the dynamics of the biological process to one side, there was something else that Eli would have to deal with. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure that Oscar would want to become like her. He had never seemed keen on the idea and his words “I want to be with you but not like you” echoed in a never-ending loop in her head as she started to drink.

It was difficult in every aspect of the word. Little blood remained in his veins and the suction required to drink and mix at the same time meant that his blood vessels kept contracting shut. Her thirst almost compelling her to keep going...to keep sucking until there was nothing left. It was an urge so strong that Eli had to practically use her fingers to dislodge her mouth from his neck. Oscar’s blood was astounding in taste – completely succulent and sweet – so much so that Eli felt guilty that part of her was enjoying it. The extra platelets in his blood released as his body tried to stop the bleeding and the adrenaline that had been excreted as a painkiller made up the perfect cocktail. It was more than just ‘chemical’ as Eli knew that the blood of someone you cared about always seemed to taste better. It was almost like it was taboo for her to have friends – almost like the infection would always try to make her feed on them.

After doing what she could with her teeth inside his neck, Eli tilted his head back and opened his mouth. She took a deep breath and then using Oscar’s knife, sliced across the palm of her hand. Just as she started to bleed, Eli made a fist and tightened her grip allowing her blood to flow down into his mouth and down his throat. Her final act to help the process as much as possible was to then cut Oscar’s left palm. She took and held his hand with her own and squeezed repeatedly like a beating heart trying again to mix as much of her blood with his as possible.

“Oscar, sorry but this next part might hurt” she whispered in his ear unsure if he could hear her or not.

Still, on the ground, she carefully fished out the bullet that was embedded deep within his chest. It took a few minutes but she was able to find it – feeling the difference between the hard metal and the soft tissue around it. Eli looked at the small thing and examined it closely. It had always interested her (in a sort of outlandish way) how something like this could do so much damage to a person’s body – just because it was propelled really fast. Eli sucked the bullet clean for a few seconds before putting it in Oscar’s trouser pocket. She imagined that should he be “ok” that he would appreciate a souvenir. Maybe he would think it was cool. She removed his shoes and socks, using one of the latter to bind the bite on his neck and the other she pushed into the hole in his chest.

Eli picked up her fallen friend and carrying him on her back, she started to walk back to their flat. It didn’t matter how far it was – it didn’t matter how long it took, she would return Oscar to the safety of his bed. No one and nothing would stand in her way. As she started on the journey, her thoughts turned once more, back in time to the artist that had invited her so readily into his home.


“Are you hungry? Fancy a bite?” he had asked her. The very first question when they arrived at his place.

Eli almost laughed at what he had said. The man who had on route introduced himself as “Hugo” had no idea what she was and no idea what his suggestion may mean. All she could do after being invited in was to shake her head. His home above a Traven smelt rather bad and was sparsely furnished. Looking around she saw in the main bedroom an old bed that had collapsed to the floor. Hugo pointed to the spare room that he had mentioned.

“There’s a bit of bedding, not much but should be better than the ground outside.”
He then pointed to the table.
“I was planning on staying up for a while if you want to join me?”

That is exactly what Eli did – sitting opposite Hugo, she didn’t have to say anything and just listened to him talk. Little did she know that before sunrise, she would be feeding on him with every intention of making him like her. That experience would change her outlook forever.

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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by dongregg » Thu Feb 04, 2021 12:08 am

Great subplot. :mrgreen:
“For drama to deepen, we must see the loneliness of the monster and the cunning of the innocent.”


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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by andmker » Thu Feb 04, 2021 8:39 pm

Cool thanks 😊

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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by andmker » Mon Feb 08, 2021 8:14 pm

************* CHAPTER TWENTY ***************************

Oscar’s eyes sprung open sharply like a jack-in-the-box. He had not expected that he would ever open them again. The last thing he remembered was lying on the ground asking Eli to stay with him and then...just darkness. Now he appeared to be somewhere different – he was wrapped up tightly in his bed with the sunlight casting through the window onto him.
To say that he was mystified would be an understatement. He lay paralyzed by confusion and weakness wondering how and when he got home. His memory was fragmented – he knew they had gone to the hotel, they had met Albin – and then Oscar remembered that he had been shot. From his own recollection, he was then lying outside on the ground, but he couldn’t remember how he got down there. Nor could he remember getting up and coming back to the flat. Oscar tried to call out for Eli but no sound emerged from him. He had never felt so weak and exhausted in his life – his entire body just refused to do anything. All he managed to do (which took minutes) was turn his head to the side. There he saw a fresh glass of water, a bar of chocolate, and a note with Eli’s handwriting. Despite his hunger, the energy to reach over was lacking. It was a strange feeling but he let himself drift back to sleep, hoping that he would wake up again.


Elsewhere, Eli had spent three hours listening to Hugo talk. He seemed like a friendly and desperately lonely man who was joyful that she was here. For most of the time, all he did was speak constantly in a single unbroken way without any chance for her to inject responses or interrupt. A few times he asked about her but before any answer could be given, he had changed the conversation and was hammering on like a train. He spoke about himself, his life and his family, his daughter, where they had been, and where they had wanted to go.
Pretty early into the conversation, he apologized a few times for the state of the home. He explained the lack of provisions by saying that over the last year people didn’t seem interested in art.

“I was going to home school her. I thought that would be the best thing to do. I could teach her how to read and write. I could borrow books from people or the library. I don’t understand a lot of stuff myself but err… I was sure that I could understand enough to make her understand. Do you know what I mean?” he asked.
Eli simply nodded trying to keep up with what he was saying - talking so fast it was somewhat difficult to do so.

She appreciated the sentiment and honestly, he was displaying. His intentions were good; he wanted to give his daughter the best he could. He could not afford to send her to school so he wanted to teach her himself. Hugo’s voice was trembling the entire time as were his hands. This was not down to any external factors such as drink but likely owed to the fact that she was probably the first person he had spoken to in weeks if not longer.

He had named his daughter’s Deezy which Eli thought was brilliantly unusual – it almost sounded like ‘dizzy’ which would be such a fun name to have. Hugo was a rather typical example of how difficultly random and ill-fated life could be. Some people had luck and some people did not. He was definitely in the unlucky category. Having lost his wife and child as well as living in poverty with nothing to show for it. Eli looked and wondered by the state of him how much life and fight he had left in him. If she still had a fully beating heart she imagined it would be breaking slightly knowing what he’d been through and that the path was unlikely to improve.

“You have her eyes. That’s why I noticed you,” he announced getting up and pouring a glass of murky water from a jug.

Eli frowned not knowing how her eyes could possibly resemble that of a baby, but she summarised that he was seeing what he wanted to see. The conversation continued with Hugo throwing a compliment now and again towards her. As the hours passed Hugo began to drift off to sleep at the table. It was at that point she decided that he deserved a chance to be more – to effectively start again, for him to know that there was more in life than just what he had and what he had lost.

Seconds after the clock struck four in the morning – Hugo was fast asleep. Eli snuck over to the other side of the table, it probably wasn’t required as he was snoring loudly but she didn’t want to disturb him. Being as gentle as she knew how to be in such an act, her small dirty fangs bit down into him.
Eli never enjoyed watching people “turn” as it always brought back memories of her own experience. Not just being made what she is now but also what had been done prior to that. Instead (and knowing how long it would roughly take) she chooses to leave the man asleep on the table and planned to return later when he was more like her.

When she turned back up at his door days later, Hugo’s face dropped as if he had seen a ghost.
“You’re...real?” he asked shocked having convinced himself that his current fever and illness had been a symptom of catching something from being outdoors so long. With no evidence to suggest otherwise, he had believed that Eli had been a strange dream.

He kept her waiting at the entrance for some time just looking into her face but finally and after touching his neck, he spoke.
“You better come in and explain what you did to me.”

Eli did exactly that. Tonight it was her turn to talk and she explained and then explained again what she had done and why. She explained what he now was and what it meant. For hours upon hours, her motives were laid clear as was the reality of their biology and for the entire time, Hugo looked horrified. Despite trying to “sell” it to him in the most positive way – the artist was disgusted.

“I wanted to be back with my wife and child. How could you do this to me?”

The fact that Eli simply shrugged did not help matters. Hugo was not angry, just upset at what he had been transformed into and what was required for him to continue to exist. Eli reckoned that he was in some kind of shock – that he just needed time to adapt. She spent the night there answering more questions, believing that Hugo would accept the reality and by sunrise be willing to at least try – to at least be with her, even for a short time.

That was not the case. Everything had been too much for Hugo to accept. He had listened to everything Eli had told him and believed it but it was all wrong to him. As the sun started to rise he began to pray for God to forgive him and save him. He didn’t blame Eli, telling her that it wasn’t her fault but what happened next would remain with her forever.

“I know what you wanted to do, but this...is not for me.”
He walked over to the front door after gesturing Eli to stand back.

“Just promise me that you won’t curse someone like this again. Just promise that you won’t do this to someone else.”

Knowing exactly what Hugo was planning to do and feeling guilty that she had robbed him of whatever time he had left – she agreed and apologised for what she had done. Minutes later Hugo opened the front door and casually strolled outside into the sun. As the door started to close behind him, Eli saw a flash of flames and heard screaming. Within a short time, Hugo had ended his own existence. He couldn’t bear to be like Eli for even one day. At that point Eli considered doing the same, just walking outside knowing that the sun would end her suffering. The only thing that stopped her from repeating his actions was the thought that maybe one day she would meet some like Hugo. Yet someone better and who wanted to be not only with her but like her – forever.


By the time Oscar woke up again the sun was gone and his bedroom was pitch black. The only reason he was awake was because his body was demanding to be fed and watered. It took some time but he managed to find the switch for the bedside lamp. Screwing his eyes shut because of the sudden change in light, he used his memory to feel for that chocolate bar and now warm water scoffing them down in seconds. Catching his breath and fighting the temptation to just return to sleep, he reached over for the note. His eyes were still struggling with the bright bulb but eventually, they adapted.

“Please do not be angry with me. Please stay in bed, you need rest. Don’t play with it.”

After reading Eli’s brief note, the reality seemed to catch up with Oscar’s mind and he swallowed hard. He had almost forgotten – his hunger and tiredness had taken priority. It was only now he put his hand down his shirt and felt for the bullet hole. It was exactly where he expected it to be – on the left side of his chest just below his nipple. It was still fresh but with no sign of bleeding, so Oscar slowly pushed the tip of his pinkie finger inside. It was painful to do so but that was the point – he needed the pain right now. When he withdrew his finger, he noticed that the wound and the surrounding area were sticky with what felt like saliva.

With his free hand, Oscar scrunched up the small piece of paper and threw it to the ground. For a few moments he was afraid but he needed to check, he needed confirmation one way or another. He ran his fingers over the side of his neck and felt two small painless holes where Eli had drank from. At that point, Oscar felt anger that he had never felt before in his life.

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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by dongregg » Tue Feb 09, 2021 12:21 am

Poor Eli. Obeying her better instincts did not lead to getting a friend forever in sensitive Hugo, Now Oskar seems to be a dodgy bet, although she bit him for a totally different reason from Hugo.
“For drama to deepen, we must see the loneliness of the monster and the cunning of the innocent.”

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Re: Let The Wrong One Out (Fan Fiction)

Post by andmker » Tue Feb 09, 2021 11:38 pm

dongregg wrote:
Tue Feb 09, 2021 12:21 am
Poor Eli. Obeying her better instincts did not lead to getting a friend forever in sensitive Hugo, Now Oskar seems to be a dodgy bet, although she bit him for a totally different reason from Hugo.
Things will work out...eventually 😁

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