Re: Anne-Lise's Snippets (Edition 25 or so)

[buffythebushkangaroo@xxxxxxxxxxx]

Something that's been bouncing around in my head for a trime, 
although I'm not sure whether to develop it or not.

Still...

Anne-Lise.

PS. I'm off to Egypt tomorrow night so I won't be around for a few 
weeks. I will be writing, however, so expect something Kirayoshi can 
use to fry eggs with when I get back...

--

Time was against her as always. She'd been on the run for most of 
her life, as had her mother before her, and generations of her family 
since Ruth. And still the demons came. Despite the chill air she felt 
warm, and she knew what this meant; vampires were near.
She'd learned to sleep little and travel furthest in the hours 
shortly before sunset, and within the comforting arms of dawn. During 
the full of day though she slept, or tried to. She had such terrible 
dreams, and daytime was the only time she could possibly feel safe 
from the blooddrinkers.
Later, she hitched a ride with a southern trucker, who wasn't at 
all put out that she wanted to sleep more so than talk. She'd been on 
the road all night, she explained, and she was so very tired. She 
just wanted to sleep a little. Just a few hours, if that was okay?
The truck driver gave her a cursory inspection from behind his 
mirrored ray-bans and then returned to his bored study of the road. 
She was just a kid, fourteen if a day, and too young to be considered 
viable pussy. Besides, he was a family man, and he'd not risk his 
reputation over such a piece of chicken ass.
He nodded, shrugged, and enjoyed the sun streaming through the 
window.

*

The dream came. Always the same dream; images of Ruth's father, 
Joseph, as he held up the wooden cup as if in supplication. The raw 
wound in the man's side as he hung in bondage, broken yet dignified, 
on the rough wooden cross. Blood trickled from his wound to drip from 
the heel of his foot to drip within the wooden cup. Soldiers stood 
guard, bored yet attentive, their crimson cloaks dull yet stark 
against the arid setting.
The demons came that night, drawn by the irresistible power of that 
blood. Joseph knew they would come; the man had told him so, and thus 
it was so. Joseph entrusted the cup to Ruth and warned her: let not 
one drop of this blood spill for to do so would be to leave it for 
the scavengers, and the scavengers, they are evil incarnate, and 
their power would be manifold for just one simple drop. That they 
should take the cup would be unthinkable, for there power would be 
beyond imagining.
He charged her to take the cup and travel forth across Judea and 
cast it forth unto the petulant waters of the sea, and she said that 
she would. But that day as she traveled she was beset by creatures 
like the Huwawa from her father's stories, strange beasts that seemed 
more of demon than of the earth. The men her father had assigned to 
her, many were killed, but barely they prevailed and soon it would be 
dark. She knew that she would not make her destination.
She made a decision then to dispose of the blood in a way that 
chilled her... She forced herself to drink.

*

She snapped awake from her dream and caught the concerned glance of 
the trucker. He smiled, asked after her, and offered her a sandwich. 
She smiled but shook her head, said she wasn't hungry, just thirsty 
and could use a bathroom. The light was already beginning to fade but 
she knew she had many miles still to go before she could be free to 
make another stand. 
Something was different this time. She was no longer simply 
running, for now she had a destination. She'd gained few friends 
during her travels, as she'd never allowed herself to stay in one 
place for very long. But a friend from Oxford had called her mobile, 
and told her about a relative who now worked in LA for a detective 
agency, and she'd mentioned stories about angels and demons... and a 
Slayer. Good comic book stuff, her friend had giggled.
Still, she now had a destination as good as any other. Sunnydale. 
She even liked the name.