Day 1 of 31

I feel I must preface this with some sort of random explanation. In my super delusional mind I think I have this army of dedicated, mindless, followers that are unsure of my daily activities. I understand that is greatly preposterous but I digress.

For whatever reason I have decided to begin NaNoWriMo a month early. I guess I just wanted an extra day to bear some of the weight from the ultimate goal of a novel length work of fiction at 50,000 words. The other thing that confuses me is why I chose to do it publicly. Already I am sweating and going crazy fearing what people will say and think. Like any good writer I'm a perfectionist.(Mother of god, what was I thinking.) But I made a broad statement on my twitter and regardless of who reads it I made a promise and I want to stick to my word.

My internal mantra has been "just do it." I'm sure anyone that has done NaNoWriMo in the past knows how it works. The basic idea is to hit the allotted number of words; which for me stands at 1,612 since I have a whole extra day. I'm not supposed to re-read, or try and fix what I've written. It's just going. Like the website says: it's a sprint, not a marathon.

This exercise is not concentrated on the ultimate goal of a polished work of fiction. That of course comes later. This is PURELY a chance to get the words down that constantly bounce about in my thoughts. So... here I go.

Day 1 of 31.
Goal: 1,612 words
Start time: 9:15

When Aidan Palmer turned onto Tarotwood Lane, facing his house that sat at the end of the cul-de-sac street, two things were glaringly wrong. His eight year old son Jeffrey sat on the curb by himself, with his knees in his chest, in front of their home and a car that did not belong to him or anyone he knew was parked in the driveway, the driver side door open. Aidan sped up for the last few feet, screeching to a halt into the space next to the stranger vehicle. He hopped out and looked in through the window. The keys still plugged in the ignition, along with a large leather purse in the passenger seat, and a can of diet soda.

Aidan rushed around the car to his son that stood when he came into view, and then met him half-way.

"Jeff," Aidan said, "What're you doing?"

"I don't want to go inside. The lady scares me."

Aidan's green eyes turned to look at the house. The front door stood only slightly ajar.

"What woman, son?"

Jeff merely shrugged, playing with his right ear, a simple clue that told his father he was upset.

"What I want you to do is to sit in my car and lock the doors. Do you understand?"

Jeffrey nodded and held his hand out for the car keys, which his father produced from his pocket and set them into his tiny palm. The young boy did as his father instructed and rounded the end of the Aidan's dinged and scratched pick-up.

Aidan faced the house and braced himself.

The next thing Aidan noticed, as he pushed open the door, was that the deadbolt still held the key in place. The very same key Aidan had just placed beneath the bear statue for Jeffrey this morning.

"Hello?" he called out, his body tensing.

Sprinkled through the house, like a trail of bread crumbs, were women's clothes. He followed them into the family room where he found the mexican woman sitting on the couch, wrapped in a purple blanket, sipping on a juice box held delicately in one hand and holding a bottle of Beer in the other.

"What're you doing?" she said, her brow furrowed.

Aiden repeated the question before he said, "This is my house!"

The woman failed to show any response that she understood. Instead she sat silently, taking another long sip from the straw.

He looked around the room with wide eyes, checking to see if anything was misplaced or taken.

"You need to leave," He said suddenly.

The woman stopped drinking and glared at him.

"Dead Pastor Skip and the ghost told me to come here."

"What?" Aidan said. "Who is pastor skip?"

The woman stood, the blanket falling off of her curved shoulders. Luckily she still wore a red set of bra and panties. In any other circumstance he may have found this exciting but in this very moment he could not. Then there was the fact that she was definitely older than his taste.

"You don't go to Soul Factory?"

"No I don't." He stumbled over words as he tried to find the right ones. "This is my house. Please get dressed and go home."

"The ghost told me to come here."

"I really don't care." He started to pull out his phone. "What's your name, I'm calling the police."

"Can I use the bathroom first?"

Aidan was dumbfounded and annoyed.

"Fine," he said.

The woman made her way without any instruction.

"Do they use the bathroom?" She said, turning back to him at the entry to the hall.

"Who's they?"

"The two ghosts that live here."

"Yeah," he said, "All the time, it's their room."

"Oh, okay," she said blandly. "Can I use the bathroom?"

"I told you yes," Aidan barked.

The woman ignored him and instead answered by entering the bathroom.

Aidan dialed 911 and walked into the kitchen as it rang. He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer.

"Hello, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, a strange woman walked into my house while I was gone and she's still here. She won't leave."

"Do you know the woman?"

"No."

There was a flurry of sharp clicks on the other end.

"Where are you calling from?"

He told her his location and sighed. He popped the metallic cap of the bottle and took a long gulp.

He turned and the woman stood at the end of the counter. Fully naked, her purse clutched in both hands at her chest.

"Please hurry," he said and hung up the phone.

"What happened to your underwear?"

The woman upended her purse and poured it's contents onto the tile surface. A crushed box of cigarettes, a lighter, gold earrings, necklace adorned with jewels, a leather luis vutton wallet, and a bag of a mysterious powder. Suddenly all of this made since to him.

The woman tossed her bag to the side and grabbed her wallet. She pulled out her license and held it inches from Aidan's face. He took a defensive step back. Then when she didn't move he took the card from her and looked at it. She turned and began walking around the house.

He picked up his phone and took a photo of the license and then the woman, staring into the corner of the room.

She lifted a finger and began drawing shapes in the air.

Glancing at the license again Aiden took note of the address. It was clear on the other side of town.

When he looked up again she was gone. He rushed from room to room trying to find her but she was gone, along with all of her clothes. When he went outside her car too was nowhere to be found.

Jeffrey sat in the driver's side, crouched on his knees, his body turned toward the window.



Word Count: 977
End time: 10:40

Prompt 12 of 31

I'm doing everything but writing, it would seem. Especially since I missed the last four days of writing my prompts because I was in Las Vegas carousing with my two best friends. Our evenings were spent gambling, drinking, and laughing. Only a third of the entire trip is a mindless blank. Either way it was such reckless abandon that kept me from my self assigned task. Now, back in the real world of obligations and schedules I am forced to pick up where I left off and I can do little if any at all. I'm worthless right now. I want to just sit and stare off into space but that will gain me nothing. Well, it would if I was letting my mind wander through a new story but I doubt that will happen. Only through working on a new prompt will my mind and writing be tested. So thus I give you number 11 of 31 (I will most certainly pull double duty soon to get my prescribed amount.)

The Writer's Book of Matches pg. 110 "A train travels from Paris to Rome. there are several interesting characters staying in the sleeping cars. Write about what happens to each of them during the night: 1)an older married couple... 2) two young women who agree to share a room... 3) a football goalie who, earlier, that evening gave up the winning goal."

Start time: 9:07

The tiny serpent, Malk, with glowing red eyes slithered through the ducts of the train. It's small ears listened intently over the soft scratches of the budding spikes on his back against the metal of the tube. He was sent on a mission to find those deemed fit for departure to another place. Yet none were viable specimens. MOst had been asleep as he passed by their portion of the sleeping car. He thought of listening to their thoughts while they dreamt but that had always proven deadly in the past and would not root out a worthy candidate anyway.

"Ridiculous," he hissed quietly to himself. "Why couldn't he do it."

Finally he came to a compartment with an elderly couple readying for bed. The man helped his wife slip off her dress and shoes and into a silk nightgown with frilly sleeves. The wife did the same for her husband.

Malk rolled his eyes and curled up to watch. They had been the first to be awake and he wanted to make sure that they weren't the ones.

"What did you think of the Eiffel tower tonight, my love?" The man asked as he sat back with care.

His wife sighed happily.

"Even more exquisite as ever. I remember when you proposed to me," she looked at him wryly, "And how on the train ride home we made love."

The old man beamed his crooked smile.

"Would you like to do that again, my sweet?"

His wife gasped and looked about the compartment as if to see if others were about.

"I don't know if we should."

"I still can," he said.

Malk's stomach gave a lurch and bile rose up through his throat. He gulped it back down and slithered away as fast as he could. He knew they would have been a waste of his time, but he had to at least make certain. One time he had missed an opportunity when the husband had descended onto his nagging wife, choking the life out of her. Afterwards he had emerged from the compartment screaming that his wife had died in her sleep. He would have been perfect. Although the two never gave any such sign of animosity.

The next compartment was bursting with activity. He viewed it through the slats in the grate. On one said sat a blonde with her knees pulled up to hide her chest, with her arms wrapped around them. On the opposite side was a girl working intently on her cell phone, her thumbs flying madly over the glass screen.

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

The girl glanced up from her phone for only a second. "Yes," she replied tersely.

The girl shifted in her seat and lowered her legs for a moment to throw them onto the bench of the compartment.

"This is ridiculous. Why can't you ride somewhere else? Certainly you could stay in the dining car. You seem like you would enjoy that."

The girl with the phone froze in place. Through Malk's eyes he saw the tension between them growing like a black orb, pulsing and swirling like a dark sun. His scaly skin tingled with anticipation.

"Yes," he whispered.

The two girls looked up at the vent.

'What was that," the girl with the phone said.

"Probably the air kicking on. It's insanely hot in here. You take up a lot of the cool air."

The girl with the phone gave her a sour look.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yes it does! I'm saying you're a fat cow."

The girl with the phone dropped it to the seat. It bounced once before settling in the crack.

"You want to say that again? I could take your skinny ass."

The other girl rose and quickly discovered that the other girl may have been bulky but she had also had height to portion it out. The two exchanged glares until the compartment door slid open and a young man poked his head in. The short girl's mouth fell open and she froze.

"Hello, Michelle, my belle," the boy said. He took a step in, while he held onto the side of the entry.

"Bonjour, mon ami," the girl with the phone replied.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing. I so appreciate you finding another car to stay in. It's not every day I get to see my family. I didn't know they were all going to come to Rome for the concert."

"no a problem."

"Do you need anything?" the boy asked.

The girl smiled and shook her head. And with that the boy left.

The shorter girl spun around furiously and rushed toward Michelle, who quickly responded with a right hook across the girl's chin. She spun around and fell into the bench seat.

Malk shifted excitedly. He knew his moment was about to arrive.

BUt the shorter girl was not deterred she quickly rose to her feet and, keeping a safe distance, smiled excitedly at Michelle.

"You know Aaron Rose? You TRAVEL with the greatest singer of all time?"

Michelle looked taken aback. Her brow met above her pointed nose.

"Perhaps." Michelle looked unsure.

The shorter girl screamed and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around the stranger and bouncing her up and down.

Malk hissed angrily and slithered to another compartment. He hated teenage girls. They were always hot and cold. One minute they were the most vicious conniving creatures and the next joyful and friendly the next.

The next few compartments were the same, filled with sleeping riders. Frustration began to buzz behind his eyes and he wanted to bite the next person he saw. But he knew if he marked an unworthy human his master would be angry. He might even punish him with eternal agony. He could hear his master's word echo across his memory. "I'll send you back to the depths where I found you if you fail."

Malk was determined and picked up his speed. The next few compartments were duds. One even had a football player in it. But all that radiated from him was disappointment and failure. Strong emotions, sure, but they would not be worthwhile to Malk's mission so he kept on. Finally he reached the end of the car and had to travel through the vent at the end and carefully make his way to the next.

Once he was safely inside he found more compartments of the same, except for one. A man quietly rose from the bed with a sleeping woman. He dressed just as carefully and slipped out the door. Malk could tell something was amiss and followed him down the hall, peeking in through the vents to make sure he still had sight of him. He found him in the restroom. The man looked both ways down the hall before he stepped in and shut the door.

The man went to the mirror and examined himself with a smile. The pride and anticipation radiated from him in red hot waves. Malk was exuberant.

"What is your secret," he hissed quietly. The man, so enraptured with his own image, didn't seem to notice.

A knock sounded at the door and he rushed to open it. He stuck his head out first and then returned with a woman in his wake. She threw herself into his arms and the two began kissing passionately. He moved his hands up her body, simultaneously lifting her dress.

"Did your wife notice," the woman said in between kisses.

"No," the man said. He pressed her up against the wall and squatted before her, kissing her as he went.

Malk couldn't believe his luck. Betrayal. Lies. Pride. HIs master would be ecstatic at such a find. With that he closed his eyes and breathed out all of the air in his body, turning his being into a dried up husk. A black cloud of smoke moved through the spaces in the grate and traveled in a whisp across the small space. He lingered for a moment, letting the man get more of his indecent pleasure in before he was marked.

The man stood again and the two kissed.

Now he thought and he dove for their heads.

The smoke gathered about their heads and set their eyes burning. The two secret lovers hacked and coughed, separating for just a moment, allowing Malk to escape out the crack at the bottom of the door.

He quickly traveled to the end car of the train where his master sat amongst the luggage and other things. He was crumpled up weak in the corner. A blanket over his bony shoulders. His skin was tight against his skull and pale white. His purple eyes protruded from their sockets, staring emptily into space.

"Master," Malk hissed.

The shadow of a man moved only his eyes to the whisp of cloud moving through the car.

"Is it done," he said, with a hoarse voice.

"Yes," Malk hissed.

The ceatures master stood up slowly.

"Join me," he said.

Malk's Master made his way to the marked strangers with his hand against one thing or another, with the other clutching his shawl.

When he reached them he threw open the door and stepped inside.

The woman screamed and man got angry.

"Get the fuck out of here," he screamed shoving Malk's master against the door.

The feeble man began to chuckle and then plunged his hand, with it's sharp talons, into the man's chest and wrapped his fingers around the man's beating heart. The cheating man gasped as a dark matter coursed through Malk's Master's veins. The man turned to dust and fell to the floor. The woman screamed again as her blue eyes looked in terror at the man that had turned a deep hue of blood and sprouted tiny horns from his forhead.

"Your turn," he said and descended upon the woman.

Malk watched from the corner as a thin whisp of cloud praying to his Master that he would be rewarded.

Standing before the whisp of cloud was a fully formed monster, the likes the world hadn't seen for over centuries.

"Did I did well," Malk said.

The purple eyes of his master settled on him. He grinned, revealing a mouthful of dagger-like teeth.

"Yes," he said.

He opened his mouth and stuck out a forked tounge that tasted the air. In a tiny explosion Malk returned to his former serpent form over ten times the size. He landed on a toilet that crumbled beaneath him.

"Let's take the rest of them," his master said and stepped into the hall.

Prompt 2 of 31

The Writer's Book of Matches pg. 57 "Okay, it's true. I believe in vampires. But I have proof, okay?"

(P.S. these are all chosen at random.)

Start time: 11:13

"Okay, it's true. I believe in vampires. But I have proof, okay?" Derrick Trund said, running a hand through his long black hair. He leaned over the table closer to his friends, Janithyn and Garith. For the past thirty minutes he had been bombarded with questions from his comrades about his shifty appearance at the metaphysical section of the book store in downtown Boston.

"Well where is this evidence?" Garith said. He casually took a sip of beer from the half empty pint glass.

Jan leaned closer to Derrick. Her eyes wide behind her cat eye glasses.

Derrick's dark brown eyes flicked from one friend to the next before he opened his mouth and showed them his teeth. His canines were a little longer than normal.

Garith laughed, choking on his beer.

"That's your proof? My aunt Cecilia had abnormally long teeth too. You've proven nothing."

Derrick's face soured.

"They're not long enough because I'm new. I am a vampire. Not even a year old."

Jan gaped.

Garith just shook his head and chuckled.

With an uneasy hand Jan touched Derrick's hand. Immediately she retracted it.

"You feel like ice."

"You're imagining things, sis." Garith said.

Jan determinedly wrenched her brother's hand away from his beer and stretched it to Derrick's hand. He knew he could have met them half way but he couldn't have cared less about proving his point. He had other things to worry about.

Garith's finger tips rested on Derrick's hand for less than a nanosecond. He pulled his hand to his chest and stood up, the wooden chair scraped across the barroom floor.

"What the fuck," Garith said.

Derrick rolled his eyes and motioned for his friend to sit.

"I've been a vampire for the past six months and haven't hurt either of you yet. You have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, now." Garith said, he took a step back, his voice getting louder.

Derrick could feel the eyes scattered around the bar looking at him. He had to nip this in the bud. He quickly stood and with sweeping moves, grabbed Jan's wrist, and hook his arm around Garith's and pulled them to the exit.

"Let go of me freak," Garith said. He attempted to pull his arm free but failed miserably.

The tension, excitement, and panic of the other patrons filled the bar to the brim and Derrick could feel his urge take hold. If he remained a second longer in Trombo's bar he would become ravenous. He knew from experience.

The cold autumn air embraced them with stiff arms outside the bar.

"Calm down, Gary," Derrick said.

The vampire let go of his friends. He could sense that Gary wanted to run but couldn't. He was afraid.

"I sought you two for a reason."

Jan's eyes widened behind her glasses.

"Why?" she said softly.

"I want to undo this and I know you can help."

"Is that why you started talking to us?" Jan said. Her shoulders went slack.

Derrick's expression was pained. He knew this would eventually come to light. Yes, he had treated them worse than any other kid during high school. Yes he had thought they were a couple of freaks then but now that he had been turned he knew they would understand. But even now he couldn't bring himself to say it. He was going to have to soften the blow. Plus, it may have started out trying to use them but his heart had changed since then. It only took taking away his mortal soul to do it.

"The why isn't important. You two have become my closest friends these past few months. You're the only ones that spend your waking hours in the dark. But it's more than that." He knew he had to deliver something quick. "You two are professionals when it comes to the paranormal."

Garith crossed his arms over his chest and held his head to the side. The energy radiating from him was beyond skeptical.

Jan on the other hand, she beamed at Derrick.

"Of course we'll help," she said.

"Jan!" Garith said. "Obviously he's using us. That's why he's been spending time with us. Obviously. God, how could we be so stupid. He wanted nothing to do with us in school."

Jan turned furiously to her brother. A few strands of hair fell from her messy bun.

"What does it matter how he treated us then."

"Because he's using us, sis."

"No he's not. Think of how long he's been hanging out with us and hasn't even brought up the topic of ghosts, werewolves, or vampires once! If he wanted to use us he would have just done it."

Garith turned to Derrick and pressed his lips together into a thin line, his bushy brows formed a single line. He looked back at his sister and the two held a silent argument that ended with a punch in the chest from Jan to Garith.

"How can we help?" Jan said cheerfully.

If derrick's heart was still beating it would have began to race with excitement. Instead he was filled with even more cold.

"Coincidentally enough I was in search of a book that Mr. Nemmits said you had purchased."

The two siblings looked at each other puzzled.

"It's called the La Inverser La Mort. It was written by Pierre-Jacques Lefevre."

The two remained silent.

"Do you know what book he's talking about?" Garith said, he pointed a thumb at Derrick. "Sounds French."

"I think I know what you're talking about. Let's go to our place." Jan said.

End time: 11:53