𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

Last Login:
October 23rd, 2020




Gender: Male

Age: 38
Country: United States

Signup Date:
April 08, 2020


Subscriptions:

[ This blog post is private ]

10/16/2020 03:13 AM 

Written in Red

Written in Red.
 
drabble
The gentle summer breeze softly caressed his cheek. The boy was barely seventeen. Most others his age were off fighting for Virginia against the Yankees. His brother Damon was one of the boys donning the glorious gray uniform of the Army of Northern Virginia. Stefan Salvatore was so proud of his big brother. He also missed him so much.

There was an open book in his hand. Glancing downward the crisp pages of his personal journal lay before him in his own hand. His father left him mostly to his own devices which suited the young Salvatore fine. He needed no supervision. He gave his father a wide berth. The temper of Giuseppe Salvatore was legendary.

Sitting peacefully in the summer breeze was always a good time to write in his journal. He adjusted the book in his lap setting about to write. A solitary crimson drop fell down and splashed the page. He dipped two fingers to his lips after he touched the spot. Blood

Something happened to the youngest Salvatore son. Most would find the taste of blood repugnant and recoil in horror. He hadn’t. He liked it. He liked it, a lot. He tossed the journal from his lap and ran into the woods. He had to get away from there. He had to stop the hunger.

The racing steps through the forest sounded like a deer running through the forest or a rabbit. His heart was pounding like the war drums from the Natives on the plains. He’d gone through the plains to get to Monterey. As he ran, summer turned to winter. He emerged from the woods to find a migrant camp. They were all dead. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.

“Come now dear boy. Haven’t you been running for long enough?” The voice came from beside him. He turned to face the male voice addressing him. There was what appeared to be a hideously deformed man there that was grinning from ear to ear like the proverbial cat. “Stefan Salvatore, you’ve been dead long enough.”

What was he talking about? What sort of madness gripped him? He was the youngest son of Giuseppe Salvatore and his wife Lillian. He was the younger brother of Damon. What did he mean dead? His mind was a violent whirlwind of clashing emotion with reason or purpose. Something was happening and he had no idea what it was.

His body started to shudder. He violently twisted to the right and then to the left. His back arched. Eyes thrust open suddenly and without hesitation. He was soon away from these cold woods outside the migrant camp. He was someplace darker now. He saw a faint light that could only be a candle.

~*~

Laying on a stone tablet, Stefan Salvatore’s eyes were open. He lay there for a moment when he heard the slimy tones of the man that was speaking before. “That’s a good boy Stefan. Why don’t you sit up and join us?”

Hands were placed on either side of his body. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. He was wearing the clothing in which he was buried. His right foot touched the ground then the other. He turned his head to the right first, then the left popping several vertebrae in the process. Sensitive hearing picked up two heartbeats. Both were racing madly. “You’re looking well dear boy.” The deformed man stood beside him. “I, THHHEEEE NECROMANCER have brought you back from death’s grip and restored to you that was so wrongly stripped from you. You are more than just a man Stefan. You are once again The Ripper of Monterey. Do you understand?”

Stefan had heard the words spoken to him. Looking down on the ground, he saw a girl and a boy bound and gagged. Both were drenched in sweat with dreadful terror etched over their faces. Fear was so powerful and absolutely delicious. Fangs elongated from his mouth and the blood mask formed around his eyes. With a gust of wind, he’d chosen his first prey. The girl found her skin penetrated by the fangs that tore chunks away spitting them from his mouth as he found the precious liquid within.

The Necromancer stood back in wicked glee as the revived Stefan Salvatore was like a snake practically devouring his prey whole. “Truly you are far more than just a ripper. You’re the master of glorious carnage…”

Ribbons of flesh fell from his lips. He kept biting like mad as the girl's struggles ceased. It wasn’t long until her severed head lay in his arms. He was drenched in human blood. The white shirt Caroline and Damon put him in was dripping red and sticking to his body.

He wasn’t thinking anymore. All he could say, he didn’t. It was by instinct in which he operated now. Pieces of the girl covered the bottom of the Salvatore crypt. It was as painful a death anyone could even fathom. In repentant fashion, Stefan would try to reassemble the pieces of bodies of his victims. With The Necromancer pulling his strings, there was little hope for Stefan to be what he was. The Necromancer would see to that.

Where is thy sting, O Death!
Grave! where thy victory?
The clod may sleep in dust beneath,
The spirit will be free!


Both Man and Time have power
O'er suffering, dying men;
But Death arrives, and in that hour
The soul is freed again.


'Tis comforting to think,
When sufferings tire us most,
In the rough stream the bark will sink,
And suff'ring's power is lost.

Then, Death! where is thy sting?
And where thy victory, Grave?
O'er your dark bourn the soul will spring
To Him who loves to save.


by John Bowring

 
Moral Clarity ; Stefan Salvatore;  1607177
credit: james kriet

04/11/2020 01:32 AM 

Time Marches On

Time Marches On
 
Drabble; First person POV
What have I done? I can’t believe I’ve put so much on the line. Coming back to Mystic Falls was a good idea at the time, or at least I thought it was. Of all times Damon had to come back into town, why did it have to be now? I held my journal in hand with the pilot pen resting between my fingers in half sentence. I wanted to write more, but the words escaped me at the moment. I was just all tense as always. Damon tended bring out the worst in me no matter how much I tried to fight it.

“Uncle Stefan?” Zach was standing in my bedroom doorway with a hesitant look on his face. He looked like he’d been eating three day old pizza again that Damon left sitting on the counter. “You have a minute?”

I closed up my journal setting it on my desk in front of me. The pen rested next to it as I focused my attention on my older half brother’s great great grandson. “Sure Zach. Come in. Have a seat.” I pointed him to the nearest chair in my room. It was a high backed chair made of Corinthian leather. I had it made when I was in Mystic Falls in 1953. I had to do something because Zach’s grandpa Joseph was dead likely at the hands of my brother who had disappeared yet again.

I watched as Zach came into my room to take a seat where I pointed him. “You promised me that you’d keep all this under control when you came back. It didn’t go all that well back in the 90s. You promised me it would be different.” Zach’s facial expressions of nausea and anxiety had the same source that my own did: Damon. It was always trouble when Damon was back in Mystic Falls. I could only clean up so much when my brother started to create havoc.

I exhaled sharply as I leaned forward in my chair. My right hand with my signet ring rested on Zach’s shoulder. “I will Zach. I got him out of town in the 90s and I’ll get him out of town again. It’s going to take time.” My own anxiety levels were rising. Damon had discovered that Elena existed. He wasn’t stupid. He knew she was as much of a ringer for Katherine as I did. After 130 years of being forced to live this cursed existence because of Katherine Pierce, he still had a thing for her. Damon never gave up on anything easily. Fortunately I’m just as stubborn as my brother is. “This might be a little harder than last time, but I will.”

“You’re going to have to try harder, Uncle Stefan. The dead bodies are mounting up. They’re not stupid. They’ll start putting together the pieces. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I looked at my half brother’s great great grandson with a gentle smile. I couldn’t believe how much he did look like my older half brother. That was something I didn’t have time to deal with on this particular moment. Damon was definitely the more pressing issue. “I’ll protect you. I can’t promise the same thing for him.”

Zach’s words did cut me to the quick. Yes, I knew that Damon needed to be stopped before he caused too much of a mess in Mystic Falls again, but I didn’t want any member of my family to suffer in the meantime. Damon, no matter how much of an a.s.s. he was, he was still my brother. He wouldn’t have been in the middle of any of this had I not forced him to make the transition. How was I to know that Katherine was compelling me to drink her blood? Leave it to Damon to believe a pretty face that lied through her teeth to both of us. I squeezed Zach’s arm. “I promise. It’s not going to come to that. I’ll find a way to get him to get out of town. It’s not going to be easy.”

My distant nephew stood to his feet pulling his phone out of his pocket. He looked like he was checking the time. “I’m trusting you on this Uncle Stefan. He’s going to ruin everything like he always does if we don’t stop him.” He slid his phone back in his pocket. He started back toward the door with a few uncertain steps. “Any idea where he is now?”

“Unfortunately no.” I had my suspicions that he’d possibly go to where the vampires had been entombed that night that he and I were changed. I had heard at one time that Katherine was down there. The tomb was shut by a powerful witch’s spell. That was something that neither one of us could open. Would he really be stupid enough to open that tomb? I closed my eyes as the most incredible sense of dread overcame me. I knew my brother well enough to know that if there was a way to open that tomb, he would find a way to do it. “But I may have a few ideas.”

“Good.” Zach was practically out of my room at this point on his own. I was curious where he was going. Maybe I’d find out later what he was doing. Right now Damon was a bigger issue. “I’ll keep doing what I can to keep the sheriff from our doorstep. You just have to focus on Damon.”

I waved at Zach as he left. Damon was always my responsibility. He had been for over a century now. If I had gotten here early enough in 1953 then I might have been able to keep Zach’s granddad from being killed by Damon. Every time I asked Damon about that, he always changed the subject. Maybe now I could possibly get some answers about that and about why he was here in Mystic Falls again. He hadn’t been here since the 1990s. It had to be because of Elena.

I won’t let him hurt her. She wasn’t Katherine. She looked like Katherine, but she acted far different than Katherine did. Katherine had the fake innocent girl act down pat. Elena was innocent. Was that why I am drawn to her?
 
"You'd be surprised how easy it is to forget the past, Elena."
credit: james kriet

View All Posts

Mobile | Terms Of Use | Privacy | Cookies | Copyright | FAQ | Support

© 2020. RolePlayer.me All Rights Reserved.