People can be dark too....
Flakes of snow curled lightly down from the forbidding sky, bringing an icy, wintry chill to the normally summery landscape.
We hide in the darkness of our caverns, fearing the bite of the wind and the sting of the snow as it pounds into our faces, fearing even the dimmest of light that blinds us…here, underground we must stay, until it warms again, or the snow stops falling. We claimed the Southern end of the mountains a long time ago. We have refused to give these mountains up to the peasants’ miles below us.
We wait for many hours, after hurrying back to our caverns at the scent of the storm and bloodbaths ahead, to prepare and ready ourselves for the battle that is ahead.

Nameless and faceless they creep through the shadows, our fears and angers, our hurts, intruding into our minds, pervading our memories and turning us against one another….
This is the battle we face. The darkness of solidity, enduring the ages past, enduring the stains of hypocrisy and hate, enduring the very earth we live on, with the fires and the floods and the disease.
Have you ever faced an almost certain death with no fear? Have you ever faced it with joy and bloodlust to bring down your enemies, tearing them apart with your bare hands and teeth while you yourself are brought down?
I haven’t…I am one of the few of my kind who does not enjoy death and killing. The weakling, the underdog, the child. That is me. That is who I am.
I am not perfect, nor am I the smartest or the bravest.
I may be the unwanted and un-needed, but I am not the hatred.
They might be…but I’m not…
We cannot ignore it, for it comes for us.
We cannot hide from it, because it knows all.
We cannot escape.
We can only fight for our lives.

We shall rejoice when you, the haters, who despise us for no reason are gone…
And then we will cry, for we have no reason for our existence anymore…
We the oppressed are no longer the needed, or the wanted, or the alive. We are dead and gone to you, not worthy of your remembrance, or love. Gods above, how I used to wish that I could be like you, happy and carefree, able to fight back and not care about the consequences of my actions… The burning fires of hell compared with the sweet bliss of heaven seem so black and white…no shades of grey to hide in, you’re either good…or bad.
And I am not always good…

The story began a long time ago…and it will end a long time from now or maybe not at all. No one knows who or what or where or how….but we do know why.
Our forefathers were prosperous and happy, carefree and well learned and travelled muchly, bringing spices and wines and skins and food, and often tales of great lands far away, of treasure and lore. Many people desired this treasure and lore, but were oft told it was just a hearthside tale from the travellers, but still numerous groups of people had their curiosity piqued by this treasure and lore. Was this treasure diamonds? Vast glittering mountains full of it? Caves full of precious jewels and monies? Was it the lore of old where we knew very little or nought of? What were its teachings, and was it even in our language? Was it magicks? Ways to live forever?
No one knew for sure, but in the end two groups left from surrounding towns and travelled to these very caves under this very mountain in search of the lore and treasure.
Nothing was ever found.
Angry, they began to fight against one another, blaming the other groups, tearing the groups apart with magic and knives and spears and then a man fell into the water….and he transformed… screaming, he hauled himself out of the river, and ripped another man’s eyes out with his bare hands and started to shred them while the other laid screaming and writhing on the floor.

The two groups were both revolted and fought against him, "Monster!" they called him, but he was wild now, tearing at everywhere he could reach on every body’s skin,, wild with rage and hurt, trying to get to the blood that he could sense pulsing through the men. He fought for hours, and then, another man joined his side and began fighting in the same manner, and then another and another.
All these men had been "sane" once. But seeing this man be attacked by so many, screaming himself hoarse for his cause, though what it was nobody was sure, caused pain in their chests, constricted them, made them gasp for breath before unleashing a cry that ripped at their throats and brought tears to their eyes. They couldn't stand to see that lone man fight, and eventually there were more “Monsters” as they were called, then men, and the men fled from here, vowing revenge on their fallen brethren.
The monsters retreated into the caves, waiting and waiting, they didn’t need to go out and fight the villagers; besides they now found the light from the sun drained their energy and burnt their skin, and left them weakened and in pain after spending so long in the cool darkness of the mountain warrens.

But the men from the villages didn’t know this, and mounted a huge attack on the cave men several months later, storming the caves, when they would have been better off smoking them out into the daylight where they would have had a better advantage. More men succumbed to the slash and tear and bite of the cavemen, and were again driven away.
The village men tried for years and years, but each time, lost more and more brave souls to the cavemen.

Then the cavemen started morphing….claws and talons, sharpened and pointed teeth, large luminous eyes to see in the darkness, slight fur on the body for warmth…all were part of the need for survival. Now we were stronger then ever before and could attack at will. But still we waited.
And now we are waiting today.
Over the years we have evolved into what we are now, and we are powerful beings indeed. But there are far fewer of us now, since they created metal tubes that go bang in the dark, things that can kill many of us at once, so now we are very few, and very angry.

We have waited for so long, it is itching our skins to fight and kill, even with me, I am finding hard not to imagine myself getting some revenge for their hatred of us. Yes, we are badly controlling of our anger and we turned savage, but that was not our fault. It was an inexplicable twist of fate that we became infected and that we survived. Our day of revenge is near, and these wintry, icy winds are bringing it to us on a silver platter.
Over by the cavern to the left of me, one of the darker ones mutters angrily to himself, blaming the whole world for his situation.
I’m afraid though….I don’t want to die…and I know that I can….because I’ve seen others die before me. Everyone and everything will die given the right place and time, even if that place and time is deemed too early or too late by others.

Ahead of me, I see a shape in the darkness moving towards me, and footsteps. Purposeful footsteps. Like a human. But not human. One of ours. I lift my head a look toward the shape and growl deeply through the back of my throat, glaring at this one.
Two growled words. So simple and short.

They’re coming.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sat 25 Jul 2009, 7:56, 4 replies)

That is brilliant
Where did the idea for this come from?
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Sat 25 Jul 2009, 12:35, closed)

It's actually part of a novel I drafted.
it's from the first part in a trilogy - I've been trying to get published but it's very difficult! It's sort of a back story to one of my characters in it - it's how I introduce him about halfway into the first book.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sat 25 Jul 2009, 13:19, closed)

MOAR!
This is awesome, I'd love to see the rest...
( Maladicta, Sat 25 Jul 2009, 18:21, closed)

Hahahahahaha! Brilliant!
Best revamp of the old "it was a dark and stormy night" intro in years! Please please enter this comp
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulwer-Lytton_Fiction_Contest
You'll be $250 better off in minutes!
( difficultchild, Sun 26 Jul 2009, 3:45, closed)