Door Knocker animal

Brass Lion Statue Prime Minister Door Knocker Sculpture (The Digital Angel)
The only other place you can tap this knocker, is where Gordon Brown will answer the door! This is a solid brass replica of an original 18th century imperial lion used for the British Prime Minister's residence in London at No. 10 Downing Street. Give your guests a dignified British welcome, as Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher did when they answered the call of this door knocker. A great housewarming gift for home, apartment, or condo! Complete with strike plate.

Price: $115.00 | Learn more

1st Birthday Party Game or Craft Ideas?
I am having my daughters 1st birthday party Saturday night and I have 15 kids mostly under 5 coming. 6 boys and 9 girls, I was wondering what I could do for entertainment such as crafts and games. I am going to do the Styrofoam hats and door knockers that they can decorate with foam animals and letter, but that will only keep them occupied for maybe 30 minutes. It is 3 hours long, which the first hour I am leaving for welcoming people and eating dinner. The next hour I wanted to have two things for the kids to do and I only thought of one. The last hour will be presents and cake and goodbyes. So I was wondering if anyone has thrown a party with little kids that can give me some ideas that worked for you. Thanks Yeah well sorry for putting thought into my kids party but I guess I care about my kids... and it is raining that day so I cant do anything outside. I rented out the office where I live.. If the rain holds up most of the adults without kids can go on the balcony... but The office isnt too big about the size of a small living room and diningroom... then in a seperate room which is the office we set up the food.

get some different color yarn and felt eyes and help them make some sock puppets and let them put on a puppet show for the parents our children loved this and it uses up a good amount of time and the socks,stick on felt don't cost much just make sure you get things made of felt and not hard so there isn't any chocking hazards and let the children as well as the parents have a blast good luck I hope this helped wishing your child a very happy 1st. birthday!
countryboy  |  Read more

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Random Vampire Writing (long). Critique?
Not for the squeamish. His name is not mentioned on purpose. Any and all critiques would be loved :) *** The sun’s last stretches of pink had given way to the more solid blackness of night when he turned onto the pathway. The moon was nearly full that night, but both it and the stars were dimmed by a heavy fog. Darkness reigned in more than one sense that night. His pace, once a leisurely stroll, quickened as the path changed from gravel to dirt underneath his leather boots. Regardless, his boots left no prints in the dirt. A calm silence surrounded him; it was the time just after daytime animals had gone to sleep and just before nighttime animals woke up. He was alone. His gray eyes glinted in the darkness as he approached the single farmhouse at the end of the path. They narrowed slightly as he walked up the frail, wooden steps leading to the front door. Once there, he knocked on the door with the brass knocker, sending a lone echo throughout the old fashioned home, alerting its single inhabitant. The old woman strained to get off of her couch when she heard the person knocking and she slowly approached the door. Only vaguely did she wonder who would be visiting her at that hour – she had few friends and her family… It wasn't the best one out there. That was why she'd moved out to the countryside in the first place. “Can I help you?” The question was phrased before the heavy wooden door was opened, but having the enhanced senses that accompanied being the undead made it irrelevant. “Actually, yes, I’d like to think you can.” He flashed a charming smile at her, keeping his lips in check; after four and a half centuries, it was almost second nature. Even he slipped up occasionally, though. This would be an okay time to reveal it too early – if she screamed, there would be no one to hear. Even if someone did, who really cared about the religious nut, the social recluse, Arianne Forgeman? No one. He did his research well, after all. “Oh… And, how is that?” She asked, sounding skeptical. No one had ever needed her help since… Since… She couldn't even remember when the last time was. And yet, this man she’d never seen before suddenly needed her help? Not to mention at eleven o’clock at night… What a strange time to ask someone for help. He didn’t notice her suspicion – or if he did, he didn’t comment on it - as he continued, “Well, you see, I’m doing a consumer satisfaction interview of sorts. It's been broadened out to include a wide variety of- oh, it’ll only take a moment, I promise.” He rushed through the last sentence as he saw her preparing to slam the door in his face. Even as the undead, who could only be truly harmed by holy objects, having his face flattened by a dead tree didn’t quite appeal to his vainer side. “Now, what is your favorite movie?” “Uh- what?” “Movie. Your favorite?” “Um… I’m not… really sure…?” As she spoke, she became more and more skeptical of the man in her doorway. This night was very weird. Only the rich could afford movies. Only the popular went to them. She was neither rich nor popular. “Oh. Not a moviegoer?” “No... I mean, n-not really…” “Okay, then. Next question. Favorite condiment?” “Condime- What? What kind of interview is this? Who is it for, anyway? Who are you?” She demanded, suddenly angry. No doubt this one was one of those weird teenager pranks. Except, this man didn’t look like a teenager. Her veined fingers grasped the edge of the door again, clearly preparing to take another attempt at slamming her door in his face. “Oh, that’s unfortunate.” He sent her a sad smile. This time, he didn’t bother to conceal the four fangs protruding from his jaw. She didn't seem to notice, anyway. “You see, I was going to get in a... Debate, of sorts. I was rather hoping you’d say… I don’t know, ‘ketchup’ or something. My personal favorite is adrenaline. Even though it's for the muscles, it still adds that extra, I don’t know… An extra zing, so to speak—“ “—Wait. Adrenaline- that’s—,” Her sentence was cut short as she saw him approaching. Her life had been based heavily on religion, as no one else had been around to help her through. As such, it didn’t take much for the few pieces she had to fall into place. In that moment, she finally saw – really saw – him for the damned being that he was. She saw the protruding fangs and the gray eyes flashing with what was unmistakably hunger. Not the hunger of a five-year-old wanting a cookie before dinner; the hunger of an ancient predator. A wolf. A snake. A lion. Conniving, intelligent, patient. For a time. But no longer. The predator was ready to spring. And she was the previously-unsuspecting prey. The fear came shortly after her understanding did. It was mellowed by something, though. Realization struck her just then, just moments before her very probable murder. This “man” – for lack of a better word – was probably going to kill her. Maybe she’d been dying for a while now ... though. A new emotion washed over her that time: Regret. Life was the one thing everyone had in common, the only thing everyone was gifted with indiscriminately, and she had wasted hers. No friends, no contact with her family, a bad job, poor education, no hobbies, no neighbors, no interests other than worshiping her god… She was lost in thought and she barely registered the clouds moving, uncovering the previously shielded moon. Strangely, the light seemed to just be absorbed by the strange man before her – he formed no hint of a shadow. Finally, she mustered up courage from an unknown source. “Do me a favor. Just one.” He blinked in confusion at her newer, more assertive tone. However, he obliged. He moved closer to her, though that time, he did so in a much less offensive, more casual manner. His eyebrow cocked in slight curiosity as he waited for his next meal’s last request. “Remember me.” As she spoke, she leaned backwards, trying to reach her arm around the door. There was a cross there. If she could just reach it, there was a chance… He gave her a sad smile, tilting his head in false pity and very real amusement. Despite being centuries old, cockiness prevented him from noticing her actions. He interpreted them as a vain attempt to postpone death. It was too late, though; death was on her doorstep. Quite literally. Very poor timing, trying to live when you had mere minutes left. If that. “You know… You’re really taking it much better than everyone else did. Congratulations.” He murmured softly as he approached her. His eyes moved from her face to her neck to her breasts, not even attempting to be stealthy. Before he realized what was happening, he saw a cross shoved across his chest. He could only assume that mentioning he was a mass murderer with such casualness had fueled her anger. He loved instances like this one; when the completely inexperienced prey tried to outwit the experienced predator. “What is your name, monster?” There was new strength in her voice now that she felt protected. While trying to hold back a laugh, he decided to play along. “That’s a hefty bit of information, that.” He said, putting on a rather convincing act of considering telling her his name so as to ‘postpone his own death.’ “If I might ask… Why would it interest you?” “Even monsters deserve to be remembered. I’ll make sure that you are. I’ll make sure that your crimes are known. Death will not end your tale.” Slowly, the would-be crucifix was making its way towards where his heart should have been. Amateur. “Ah, you are intelligent then.” A glint of humor was entering his smoky eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Death has played its part in my life… And I’m still alive. Indeed, death has not been the end of my tale. How very… Astute of you.” His head was mere inches away from her face by that point. Giving up his act, he let out a short laugh, breathing almost directly onto her weathered neck. His breath was hot and sticky, as though he’d ignored basic dental hygiene for several days; despite that, his teeth were perfectly white. Perfectly straight. Marring that perfection, though, was a slight tinge of brownish-red stains on either of his canines. A slight blush was creeping up her cheeks, but he pretended not to notice. “But you seem to be under the impression that you’ll be killing me for a second time tonight. That would be where you are incorrect, love.” “Incorrect? How so?” Her voice faltered; her wrist wobbled ever so slightly, causing the wooden stake to drop slightly as her body began to tremble. Insignificant though it was, it caused him an enormous amount of satisfaction. It was almost as though he’d achieved something spectacular, something altogether unique, even though he’d preyed on more than one victim before as he preyed on her then. “Holy objects only work when they’ve been blessed – recently – by priests. My heart, if you can’t tell, is already dead. Stab me and I’ll bleed, yes, but nothing severe would happen. Even if you did manage to somehow reach my heart with that twig… It wouldn’t do much.” He leaned closer still, causing the old woman to flinch away. He flicked away her wispy strands of faded brown hair, bringing his mouth to her ear. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it so that the stake’s tip was pointed away from them. "And no matter how much I would bleed, your blood will replace all that was lost." He moved his right hand to her shoulder, running his fingers over her shirt’s collar, up her heavily veined neck. Her heart was pounding loudly, but her body was frozen stiff; a deer in headlights. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sound of the heart rate. He was inches away from his one life source, the one thing event that made “life” worth living. That was his favorite moment. Hearts were all so different when they realized how short of a time they had to live, how little time they had left to keep beating. Some sped up, rushing to make the most of that time; others slowed down, abandoning the hope that was never there to begin with. Despite her bland lifestyle, this woman’s heart sped up. The reactions of different prey fascinated him. It was almost like a science experiment. “And I fear that I am not as respectful as you, my love…” His lips trailed down to her throat, using them as replacements to his hands. Freed, his hands moved up to her ear and gently pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck. He whispered his last words to her; the last words she would ever hear: “You will be lost in history.” His jaw detached like a snake’s, making it large enough to easily fit around her thin throat. The scream that formed in her lungs never left her lips. He bit down, pushing his teeth through the layers of skin and muscle, bursting through the walls of the jugular from both directions in a matter of moments. Her body turned limp and he caught her underneath the armpits with ease, never detaching his mouth from the veins. He let the corpse fall to the ground with a quiet thump once he felt the suffocating nothingness entering his veins in place of blood. He pulled back and wiped his face clean of the wasted blood. He smeared it on what remained of her mangled neck: His trademark. And with that, he ran off into the night, leaving the bloodless corpse far behind him. Somewhere in the darkness, a wolf howled. *** Wow, I didn't expect it to be THAT long o_o Sorry. Anyway, what do you think? Aly - thanks very much :) I'll edit that. And actually. that was the reason I wrote this in the first place - I needed an actual vampire after reading Twilight. xP

This is probably the third or fourth time I've read this excerpt of yours, and I still LOVE it. It's catapulted you to one of my very favorite contacts. I love your sense of creativity, and I definitely think you've got a literary future waiting for you (if you want it, that is). Anyway, here's what I think of this particular draft. First paragraph: In the first sentence, I think you should get rid of the words "when he turned onto the pathway". This paragraph is very sensory, and I think you need to give people's imaginations room to roam before you introduce the vampire. Second paragraph: If I were you, I would probably eliminate the words "once a leisurely stroll". This particular paragraph is very 'in the moment', if you know what I mean, and it's best if you dwell only on the present here. Third paragraph: Try to find a synonym for 'path', just so your words don't become redundant. Also, I'm not sure if the adjective 'frail' is appropriate here. Fragile, maybe, but I think 'rickety' or 'derelict' would be better. Fourth paragraph: Maybe I'm just a little slow tonight, but 'It wasn't the best one out there' confuses me. What are you trying to get across to the reader? Could you make it more clear? Also, the first sentence in this paragraph is pretty lengthy. Try slimming it down, and see if that makes a smoother transition. Fifth paragraph: Would she really say, "Can I help you?" before she answered the door? There's no way she could know that her visitor was a vampire with superhuman senses. Asking if she could help someone would be pretty futile, since the door is thick. Chances are, they wouldn't be able to hear her. Sixth paragraph: Good. I really like how we can see into the vampire's mind. That additional perspective really shows the mentality of such a meticulous predator. I have absolutely nothing to suggest for this paragraph. In fact, I think it's perfect. Seventh paragraph: LOL, I see you took the 'passing-the-crayon' part out. It's probably a good improvement, even though the pass the crayon incident added humor. Again, I like looking into the mind of the characters. This is good. Eighth paragraph: Awesome! You work a little bit of humor into the passage, while still infusing the implications and subtle hints into the work. This is a really strong paragraph. Dialogue in general: This is just a conventions thing, but I think you should consider changing the transitional punctuation in "Uh-what?" It just doesn't look right to my eyes. Also, I would strongly consider revising the woman's thought process after she says "I'm not really sure...?" You don't really have enough time in this passage to develop a character with an inferiority complex. It's better to leave those waters alone for now. Continuing after the dialogue: I really like how you describe her fingers as 'veined'. That's some pretty heavy hinting, but either way, it's also masterful foreshadowing. I'd eliminate the sentence "She didn't seem to notice, anyway". You're building up to something big, and minutia like that doesn't really matter here. Play on the reader's excitement, and don't slow it down for anything. The rest of the passage is pretty close to perfect. My only suggestion: Take out "And she was the previously-unsuspecting prey". It's kind of redundant. I really like the way you develop the vampire's personality--it's good. Your character has the makings of an anti-Edward Cullen (and I know you'll believe me when I say that's a compliment). I think you're an amazing writer! This is fantastic!
Phoenix Tears  |  Read more

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Critique on Vampire Writing (long)?
I posted this exact same bit earlier today, but the only person who 'reviewed' could only mention that it was bad to write about vampires after I specifically mentioned that it wasn't part of a story and asked for people to not comment on that part without any form of a critique. SO. Please, don't do that. I would /love/ for someone to tear it apart, though ^_^ That's why it's here. The character's name is not mentioned on first. Anyone who reads the whole thing gets a cookie. :) The story: The sun’s last stretches of pink had given way to the more solid darkness of night when the figure turned onto the long pathway. The moon was the smallest sliver away from being full that night, the stars dimmed by a heavy fog. Darkness reigned in more sense than one that night. The footsteps finally gave away his presence as the road changed from gravel to dirt underneath his leather boots. His gait was smooth and fast, leaving little indication that he’d ever passed that way. Regardless, in the period of night just after daytime animals had gone to sleep and just before nighttime animals had woken, his footsteps echoed loudly even on the soft dirt. His grey eyes glinted slightly in the darkness as he approached the single farmhouse at the end of the path. They narrowed as he walked up the frail, wooden steps leading to the front door; once there, he knocked on the door with the firm brass knocker, sending a lone echo throughout the old fashioned home, alerting its single inhabitant. The old woman strained to get off of her couch and approached the door. Only vaguely did she wonder who would be visiting her at that hour – she had few ‘friends’ - for lack of a better word- and her family… Well, it wasn’t the most stable one out there. “Can I help you?” The question was phrased before the heavy wooden door was opened, but having the enhanced senses that accompanied being the undead made it irrelevant. “Actually, yes, I’d like to think you can.” He flashed a charming smile at her, keeping his lips in check; after four and a half centuries, it was almost second nature. Even he slipped up occasionally, though. This would be an okay time to reveal it too early – if she screamed, there would be no one to hear. Even if someone did, who really cared about the religious nut, the social recluse, Arianne Forgeman? No one. He did his research well, after all. “Oh… And, how is that?” She asked, sounding skeptical. No one had ever required assistance from her since third grade when some kid had needed a different color crayon. And yet, this man she’d never seen before suddenly needed her help? Not to mention at eleven o’clock at night… What a strange time to ask someone for help. He didn’t notice her suspicion – or if he did, he didn’t comment on it - as he continued, “Well, you see, I’m doing a consumer satisfaction interview of sorts. It's been broadened out to include a wide variety of- oh, it’ll only take a moment, I promise.” He rushed through the last sentence as he saw her preparing to slam the door in his face. Even as the undead, who could only be truly harmed only by holy objects, having his face flattened by a heavy, dead tree didn’t quite appeal to his vainer side. “Now, what is your favorite movie?” “Uh- what?” “Movie. Your favorite?” “Um… I’m not… really sure…?” As she spoke, a look of incredulousness came onto her face. This night was exceedingly weird. “Oh. Not a moviegoer?” “Not really…” “Okay, then. Next question. Favorite condiment?” “Condime- What? What kind of interview is this? Who is it for, anyway? Who are you?” She demanded, suddenly angry. No doubt this one was one of those weird teenager pranks. Except this man didn’t look like a teenager. Her veined fingers grasped the edge of the door again, clearly preparing to take another attempt at slamming her door in his face. “Oh, that’s unfortunate.” He sent her a sad smile. This time, he didn’t bother to conceal his four pointed fangs protruding from his jaw. As far as he could tell, she didn’t notice. “You see, I was going to get in a debate of sorts. I was rather hoping you’d say… I don’t know, ‘ketchup’ or something. My personal favorite is adrenaline. It really adds that extra, I don’t know… An extra zing, so to speak—“ “—Wait. Adrenaline- that’s—,” Her sentence was cut short as she saw him approaching. Having no one to really lean on though life, she had depended heavily on mythology and religion to help her through; as such, it didn’t take much for the few pieces she had to fall into place. In that moment, she finally saw – really saw – his protruding fangs and his grey eyes flashing with what was unmistakably hunger. Not the hunger of a five-year-old wanting a cookie before dinner; the hunger of an ancient predator. A wolf. A bear. A lion. Conniving, intelligent and patient. Patient for a time. But no longer. The predator was ready to spring. And she was the previously-unsuspecting prey. The fe (fear**) came shortly after her understanding did. It was mellowed by something, though. Realization struck her just then, just moments before her very probable murder. This “man” – for lack of better terminology – was probably going to kill her. Maybe she’d been dying for a while now, though. A new emotion washed over her that time: Regret. Life was the one thing everyone had in common, the only thing everyone was gifted with indiscriminately, and she had wasted hers. No friends, no contact with her family, a bad job, poor education, no hobbies, no neighbors, no interests other than worshiping her god… She was lost in thought and she barely registered the clouds moving, uncovering the previously shielded moon. Strangely, the light seemed to just be absorbed by the strange man before her – he formed no hint of a shadow. Finally, she mustered up courage from an unknown source. “Do me a favor. Just one.” He blinked in confusion at her newer, more assertive tone. However, he obliged. He moved closer to her, though that time, he did so in a much less offensive, more casual manner. His eyebrow co-cked in slight curiosity as he waited for his next meal’s last request. “Remember me.” As she spoke, she leaned backwards, trying to reach her arm around the door. There was a cross there. If she could just reach it, there was a chance… He gave her a sad smile, tilting his head in false pity and very real amusement. Despite being centuries old, co-ckiness prevented him from noticing her actions. He interpreted them as a vain attempt to postpone death. It was too late, though; death was on her doorstep. Quite literally. Very poor timing, trying to live when you had mere minutes left. If that. “You know… You’re really taking it much better than everyone else did. Congratulations.” He murmured softly as he approached her. His eyes moved from her face to her neck to her breasts, not even attempting to be stealthy. Before he realized what was happening, he saw a cross shoved across his chest. He could only assume that mentioning he was a mass murderer with such casualness has fueled her anger. He loved instances like this one; when the completely inexperienced prey tried to outwit the experienced predator. “What is your name, monster?” There was new strength in her voice now that she felt protected. While trying to hold back a laugh, he decided to play along. “That’s a hefty bit of information, that.” He said, putting on a rather convincing act of considering telling her his name so as to ‘postpone his own death.’ “If I might ask… Why would it interest you?” “Even monsters deserve to be remembered. I’ll make sure that you are. I’ll make sure that your crimes are known. Death will not end your tale.” Slowly, the would-be crucifix was making its way towards where his heart should have been. Amateur. “Ah, you are intelligent then.” A glint of humor was entering his smoky eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Death has played its part in my life… And I’m still alive. Indeed, death has not been the end of my tale. How very… Astute of you.” His head was mere inches away from her face by that point. Giving up his act, he let out a short laugh, breathing almost directly onto her weathered neck. His breath was hot and sticky, as though he’d ignored basic dental hygiene for several days; despite that, his teeth were perfectly white. Perfectly straight. Marring that perfection, though, was a slight tinge of brownish-red stains on either of his canines. A slight blush was creeping up her cheeks, but he pretended not to notice. “But you seem to be under the impression that you’ll be killing me for a second time tonight. That would be where you are incorrect, love.” “Incorrect? How so?” Her voice faltered; her wrist wobbled ever so slightly, causing the wooden stake to drop slightly as her body began to tremble. Insignificant though it was, it caused him an enormous amount of satisfaction. It was almost as though he’d achieved something spectacular, something altogether unique, even though he’d preyed on more than one victim before as he preyed on her then. “Holy objects only work when they’ve been blessed – recently – by priests. My heart, if you can’t tell, is already dead. Stab me and I’ll bleed, yes, but nothing severe would happen. Even if you did manage to somehow reach my heart with that twig… It wouldn’t do much.” He leaned closer still, causing the old woman to flinch away. He flicked away her wispy strands of faded brown hair, bringing his mouth to her ear. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it so that the stake’s tip was pointed away from them. He moved his right hand to her shoulder, running his fingers over her shirt’s collar, up her heavily veined neck. Her heart was pounding loudly, but her body was frozen stiff; a deer in headlights. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sound of the heart rate. He was inches away from his one life source, the one thing event that made “life” worth living. That was his favorite moment. Hearts were all so different when they realized how short of a time they had to live, how little time they had left to keep beating. Some sped up, rushing to make the most of that time; others slowed down, abandoning the hope that was never really there to begin with. Despite her bland lifestyle, this woman’s heart sped up. The reactions of different prey fascinated him. Almost like a science experiment. “I fear that I am not as respectful as you, love…” His lips trailed down to her throat, using them as replacements to his hands. Freed, they moved up to her ear and gently pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck. He whispered his last words to her; the last words she would ever hear. “You will be lost in history.” His jaw detached like a snake’s, making it large enough to easily fit around her thin throat. The scream that formed in her lungs never left her lips. He bit down, pushing his teeth through the layers of skin and muscle, bursting through the walls of the jugular from both directions in a matter of moments. Her body turned limp and he caught her underneath the armpits with ease, never detaching his mouth from the veins. He let the corpse fall to the ground with a quiet thump once he felt the suffocating nothingness entering his throat in place of blood. He pulled back and wiped his face clean of the wasted blood. He smeared it on what remained of her mangled neck: His trademark. And with that, he ran off into the night, leaving the bloodless corpse far behind him. Somewhere in the darkness, a wolf howled. ** ... And that's it. Critique away! winter_girl - He chose her because she was a recluse. No one cared enough about her. If someone has a lot of close friends and family and they're murdered, it's looked into more. At least, that's the way he sees it. -shrug- Thanks to both of you!

the story is really good. you have a great talent in painting a picture of the surroundings and what is happening with the characters. there is a couple of questions. i agree with ella enchantress about the trademark, does it have any explanation before or after this mention of it? also why did he research her and make her a victim? because she's a recluse, religious nut, or some kinda of personal agenda? a little insight into that would be good.
winter_girl  |  Read more

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Critique? (Random vampire writing.)?
First off, this is NOT part of a story. The character(s) might be used in other, non-vampire related stories, but the vampire element itself will not. Please don't tell me that vampire are overused or cliche. I know they are. That's why I only wrote out a scene that had been on my mind for a while as opposed to a whole story. Second, critiques would be LOVED. Please, tear it apart. =D 'His' name isn't mentioned on purpose, though 'he' does have a name. Also, for people who have only read Twilight vampires, he is NOT sparkly and he much prefers homo sapiens to Angus, as is... 'Demonstrated,' here. If you have issues with that, please don't read it. And apparently Y!A has a problem with the word 'co-ck.' Hence why it has a random hyphen in it now. >.>; So yah. Blabbering over. The story: The sun’s last stretches of pink had given way to the more solid darkness of night when the figure turned onto the long pathway. The moon was the smallest sliver away from being full that night, the stars dimmed by a heavy fog. Darkness reigned in more sense than one that night. The footsteps finally gave away his presence as the road changed from gravel to dirt underneath his leather boots. His gait was smooth and fast, leaving little indication that he’d ever passed that way. Regardless, in the period of night just after daytime animals had gone to sleep and just before nighttime animals had woken, his footsteps echoed loudly even on the soft dirt. His grey eyes glinted slightly in the darkness as he approached the single farmhouse at the end of the path. They narrowed as he walked up the frail, wooden steps leading to the front door; once there, he knocked on the door with the firm brass knocker, sending a lone echo throughout the old fashioned home, alerting its single inhabitant. Wearily, the woman rose out of her couch and approached the door. Only vaguely did she wonder who would be visiting her at that hour – she had few ‘friends’ - for lack of a better word- and her family… Well, it wasn’t the most stable one out there. “Can I help you?” The question was phrased before the heavy wooden door was opened, but having the enhanced senses that accompanied being the undead made it irrelevant. “Actually, yes, I’d like to think you can.” He flashed a charming smile at her, keeping his lips in check; after four and a half centuries, it was almost second nature. Even he slipped up occasionally, though. This would be an okay time to reveal it too early – if she screamed, there would be no one to hear. Even if someone did, who really cared about the religious nut, the social recluse, Arianne Forgeman? No one. He did his research well, after all. “Oh… And, how is that?” She asked, sounding skeptical. No one had ever required assistance from her since third grade when some kid had needed a different color crayon. And yet, this man she’d never seen before suddenly needed her help? Not to mention at eleven o’clock at night… What a strange time to ask someone for help. He didn’t notice her suspicion – or if he did, he didn’t comment on it - as he continued, “Well, you see, I’m doing a consumer satisfaction interview of sorts. It's been broadened out to include a wide variety of- oh, it’ll only take a moment, I promise.” He rushed through the last sentence as he saw her preparing to slam the door in his face. Even as the undead, who could only be truly harmed only by holy objects, having his face flattened by a heavy, dead tree didn’t quite appeal to his vainer side. “Now, what is your favorite movie?” “Uh- what?” “Movie. Your favorite?” “Um… I’m not… really sure…?” As she spoke, a look of incredulousness came onto her face. This night was exceedingly weird. “Oh. Not a moviegoer?” “Not really…” “Okay, then. Next question. Favorite condiment?” “Condime- What? What kind of interview is this? Who is it for, anyway? Who are you?” She demanded, suddenly angry. No doubt this one was one of those weird teenager pranks. Except this man didn’t look like a teenager. Her veined fingers grasped the edge of the door again, clearly preparing to take another attempt at slamming her door in his face. “Oh, that’s unfortunate.” He sent her a sad smile. This time, he didn’t bother to conceal his four pointed fangs protruding from his jaw. As far as he could tell, she didn’t notice. “You see, I was going to get in a debate of sorts. I was rather hoping you’d say… I don’t know, ‘ketchup’ or something. My personal favorite is adrenaline. It really adds that extra, I don’t know… An extra zing, so to speak—“ “—Wait. Adrenaline- that’s—,” Her sentence was cut short as she saw him approaching. Having no one to really lean on though life, she had depended heavily on mythology and religion to help her through; as such, it didn’t take much for the few pieces she had to fall into place. In that moment, she finally saw – really saw – his protruding fangs and his grey eyes flashing with what was unmistakab ((unmistakably**)) hunger. Not the hunger of a five-year-old wanting a cookie before dinner; the hunger of an ancient predator. A wolf. A bear. A lion. Conniving, intelligent and patient. Patient for a time. But no longer. The predator was ready to spring. And she was the previously-unsuspecting prey. The fear came shortly after her understanding did. It was mellowed by something, though. Realization struck her just then, just moments before her very probable murder. This “man” – for lack of better terminology – was probably going to kill her. Maybe she’d been dying for a while now, though. A new emotion washed over her that time: Regret. Life was the one thing everyone had in common, the only thing everyone was gifted with indiscriminately, and she had wasted hers. No friends, no contact with her family, a bad job, poor education, no hobbies, no neighbors, no interests other than worshiping her god… She was lost in thought and she barely registered the clouds moving, uncovering the previously shielded moon. Strangely, the light seemed to just be absorbed by the strange man before her – he formed no hint of a shadow. Finally, she mustered up courage from an unknown source. “Do me a favor. Just one.” He blinked in confusion at her newer, more assertive tone. However, he obliged. He moved closer to her, though that time, he did so in a much less offensive, more casual manner. His eyebrow co-cked in slight curiosity as he waited for his next meal’s last request. “Remember me.” As she spoke, she leaned backwards, trying to reach her arm around the door. There was a cross there. If she could just reach it, there was a chance… He gave her a sad smile, tilting his head in false pity and very real amusement. Despite being centuries old, co-ckiness prevented him from noticing her actions. He interpreted them as a vain attempt to postpone death. It was too late, though; death was on her doorstep. Quite literally. Very poor timing, trying to live when you had mere minutes left. If that. “You know… You’re really taking it much better than everyone else did. Congratulations.” He murmured softly as he approached her. His eyes moved from her face to her neck to her breasts, not even attempting to be stealthy. Before he realized what was happening, he saw a cross shoved across his chest. He could only assume that mentioning he was a mass murderer with such casualness has fueled her anger. He loved instances like this one; when the completely inexperienced prey tried to outwit the experienced predator. “What is your name, monster?” There was new strength in her voice now that she felt protected. While trying to hold back a laugh, he decided to play along. “That’s a hefty bit of information, that.” He said, putting on a rather convincing act of considering telling her his name so as to ‘postpone his own death.’ “If I might ask… Why would it interest you?” “Even monsters deserve to be remembered. I’ll make sure that you are. I’ll make sure that you ((your**)) crimes are known. Death will not end your tale.” Slowly, the would-be crucifix was making its way towards where his heart should have been. Amateur. “Ah, you are intelligent then.” A glint of humor was entering his smoky eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Death has played its part in my life… And I’m still alive. Indeed, death has not been the end of my tale. How very… Astute of you.” His head was mere inches away from her face by that point. Giving up his act, he let out a short laugh, breathing almost directly onto her weathered neck. His breath was hot and sticky, as though he’d ignored basic dental hygiene for several days; despite that, his teeth were perfectly white. Perfectly straight. Marring that perfection, though, was a slight tinge of brownish-red stains on either of his canines. A slight blush was creeping up her cheeks, but he pretended not to notice. “But you seem to be under the impression that you’ll be killing me for a second time tonight. That would be where you are incorrect, love.” “Incorrect? How so?” Her voice faltered; her wrist wobbled ever so slightly, causing the wooden stake to drop slightly as her body began to tremble. Insignificant though it was, it caused him an enormous amount of satisfaction. It was almost as though he’d achieved something spectacular, something altogether unique, even though he’d preyed on more than one victim before as he preyed on her then. “Holy objects only work when they’ve been blessed – recently – by priests. My heart, if you can’t tell, is already dead. Stab me and I’ll bleed, yes, but nothing severe would happen. Even if you did manage to somehow reach my heart with that twig… It wouldn’t do much.” He leaned closer still, causing the old woman to flinch away. He flicked away her wispy strands of faded brown hair, bringing his mouth to her ear. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it so that the stake’s tip was pointed away from them. He moved his right hand to her shoulder, running his fingers over her shirt’s collar, up her heavily veined neck. Her heart was pounding loudly, but her body was frozen stiff; a deer in headlights. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sound of the heart rate. He was inches away from his one life source, the one thing event that made “life” worth living. That was his favorite moment. Hearts were all so different when they realized how short of a time they had to live, how little time they had left to keep beating. Some sped up, rushing to make the most of that time; others slowed down, abandoning the hope that was never really there to begin with. Despite her bland lifestyle, this woman’s heart sped up. The reactions of different prey fascinated him. Almost like a science experiment. “I fear that I am not as respectful as you, love…” His lips trailed down to her throat, using them as replacements to his hands. Freed, they moved up to her ear and gently pushed her head to the side, exposing her neck. He whispered his last words to her; the last words she would ever hear. “You will be lost in history.” His jaw detached like a snake’s, making it large enough to easily fit around her thin throat. The scream that formed in her lungs never left her lips. He bit down, pushing his teeth through the layers of skin and muscle, bursting through the walls of the jugular from both directions in a matter of moments. Her body turned limp and he caught her underneath the armpits with ease, never detaching his mouth from the veins. He let the corpse fall to the ground with a quiet thump once he felt the suffocating nothingness entering his throat in place of blood. He pulled back and wiped his face clean of the wasted blood. He smeared it on what remained of her mangled neck: His trademark. And with that, he ran off into the night, leaving the bloodless corpse far behind him. Somewhere in the darkness, a wolf howled. ((Anyone who actually read all of that gets a cookie. xD Much longer than expected...))

Okay, Here goes: excellent visual descriptions: don't start with scenery but action; beware or repeating words; if you see an adverb, KILL IT ("Wearily, she rose" becomes "she heaved herself up" or "she strained to stand" - there is always a better verb): watch for wordy phrases that throw on the readers brakes ("period of night just after daytime" could jest be "lingering purple twilight") My best advice from years of writing classes? Read it to yourself out loud and mark where you stumble. Then change it. Good Job and best of luck!
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