Night World

The darkness of the receding night cloaked everything in a sinister darkness as the smell of approaching dawn wafted through the cool, crisp air. The Townspeople of Wormwood lay in bed silently, curled under the blankets begging for the first ray of sunlight to peak over the treeline on the other side of the Gate. Even with their doors bolted shut and guns loaded with wooden bullets on their bedside tables they dare not open their eyes. Most of everyone in town was afraid of the darkness for they knew what it brought. But their was one who sought out the darkness. It was peaceful. It was quiet.

A young woman with light red waves sat at the windowsill of her bedroom, staring out into the shadows of the Town Square. She had been up for most of the night, her thoughts running away with the problems that the next day was sure to bring. This wasn't an unusual occurrence for her. The odd occurrence was getting a full night's of rest. At night was the only time her mind had the time to process the events of her everyday life. The weekly Council Meetings, helping the witches in the apothecary, aiding the guards in the towers, training the children in battle against the creatures. Just like everyone else, she liked to have a moment to herself. Just not when others would expect.

Charlotte Wormwood closed her pale, blue eyes for a moment, a wave of exhaustion crashing over her only to leave as she opened them once more. There were only a few short moments before the sun would begin to rise over the trees meaning the servants would start to wake at any moment to begin their daily chores. Charlotte stood from her perch, the hem of her thin, white nightdress brushing her ankles. The hem continued to tease her legs as it swayed with the movements of her walking towards the wardrobe, which was pressed into a corner of her room.

She dressed herself in a brown day dress covered entirely in a dotted pattern. The sleeves fit snugly around her wrists causing a itching sensation from the wool start to spread up her arm. She tugged at the sleeves causing the hem to make a rustling noise against the wooden floor. Charlotte let out a light breath as she placed her hands on her stomach, smoothing the material over the taut flesh underneath. Licking her lips as she opened her eyes again, Charlotte turned back to her wardrobe to pull on a pair of ankle high shoes. Satisfied with her attire she left her room, the fading moon streaming in through the windows her only guidance through the otherwise dark halls. As she approached the top of the stairs the whispers of the servants starting their tasks greeted her ears.

The servants had only just awoke and were already dressed and out of the quarters into the Mayor's house. The lady of the house, Amelia Wormwood, liked to have tea and breakfast waiting for her family when they were ready to start the day, so each morning they woke before the roosters and traveled to the baker's, butcher's and farmer's. And every morning the oldest Wormwood child would help.

“Good morning, Miss. Wormwood,” the five servants chimed in unison.

“How many times must I ask you to please call me Charlotte,” she scolded, wagging her finger at them with a smile on her face. “Or at least Miss. Charlotte.”

“It is improper for us to call you by your first name, Miss,” the oldest servant, Harriett, replied. Harriett was of the ripe age of fifty and had been working for the Wormwood's as long as she could remember. She had looked after Henry Wormwood, the Mayor, and was now graced with the job of looking after his children. Harriett tried not to pick favorites, no child should feel they are favored over the others, but she couldn't help but feel a connection with Charlotte. She never treated them like servants. She merely acted like they were friends staying in her house.

“Since when do I care what is proper and what is not,” Charlotte asked taking the basket that Harriett held in her hands. “Now, I am off to the butcher's. I shall see you again when I come back.”

The forest was quiet except for the sounds of owls hooting, crickets chirping and wolves howling at the full moon. The man cloaked in shadows strained his ears trying to pick up the sound of anything else as he walked through the darkness. He could feel the hunger burning in the back of his throat making him go insane. He needed to quench his thirst but could not find nothing to satisfy him. There, his mind screamed as it picked up the sound of a lonely set of footsteps. He quickly set into action, speeding off towards the sound.

The hunter crept around the forest slowly listening for the sounds of animals. He had started his venture from the city, looking for fresh game, and he was now almost at the town of Wormwood. It was at least a good twenty miles from his home. He supposed he could ask the town if he could rest there for a time before setting off again. Though he had heard rumors of the town. The belief of vampires and werewolves and every other scary creepy-crawly under your bed. He scoffed at the mere thought of it. They were a town for psychopaths. But they would not harm a human so they were his safest bet. Now he would just have to find it.

The hunter stopped in his tracks as he spotted fawn. He crouched down, setting his rifle on the side of the deer. A shaky breath escaped his lips as he cocked the gun, his finger on the trigger. Suddenly a loud crack echoed through the forest scaring both the hunter and the deer. The deer stood their for a moment, smelling the air before sighting the hunter and darting deeper into the forest.

“Damn it,” he yelled, standing up and throwing his gun to the ground.

“Sorry, I think that was my fault.” The hunter turned around as a voice behind him talked. There was nothing there. He took in a deep breath as he bent down to grab his gun. As he stood, turning in the direction the deer ran off he jumped. “Sorry,” the other man laughed as the hunter jumped at the sight of his close proximity, “didn't mean to scare you.”

“Who are you,” the hunter demanded.

“Nobody,” the other man stated simply, shrugging. “You traveling with anyone,” he asked hopefully. One man would not satisfy the hunger he was feeling.

“No, just myself.”

“That's too bad.” His shoulders fell in defeat as he looked around the forest. “I guess you'll just have to do then.”

In flash he turned the hunter's head to the side, sinking his fangs into his neck as the hunter let out a blood curdling scream. The blood flowed down his throat like honey satisfying the hunger inside of him. He could slowly feel the life draining from the young man and found himself not caring whether he lived or died. Atlas, he pulled away from the man's neck as cradled his face, staring into his eyes and telling him to forget his face. He then let the man go, running further into the forest. He would be dead by light.

Damon Salvatore slumped against the base of a tree, legs spread with his hands dangling by his thighs. He despised himself. He despised what he had become. And it was all his brother's fault.

Charlotte Wormwood sat at the dining room table blowing on her hot tea in it's china. She had just been thrown out of the kitchen by Harriett and the rest of the servants for being too much in the way. Though she would protest that she had not been in the way at all, she was just trying to help them the best she could. It was not her fault that things seemed to burn or catch fire in the kitchen when she was around. She let out a loud sigh as they began to bring the food in, setting it out in a beautiful manner.

“Stop your sighing, Miss. Wormwood,” Harriett laughed. “It is all done now so I haven't the faintest as to why you are pouting.”

“Oh, that was not improper,” Charlotte asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Charlotte, stop harassing the servants and leave them to take care of their chores,” Charlotte's father, Mayor Henry Wormwood, told her as he entered the dining room, her mother at his side. Charlotte had never cared must for her father much. She thought him too arrogant, too self-serving. Everything that she despised in another.

“Henry, love,” Amelia Wormwood placed a gentle hand on her husband's arm. Her mother on the other, Charlotte loved her very much so. She was the most kind, most sweet person she had ever known. In Charlotte's twenty years she had never heard her mother raise her voice at another and she was always there when someone needed help. Amelia was a true saint.

“Breakfast is ready, sir,” Harriett curtsied before leaving the dining room, the other servants following behind her.

“Charlotte, would you mind going to escort your brothers and sisters downstairs, please,” Amelia asked sweetly, sitting down at the end of the table.

“Yes, mother,” Charlotte bowed her head, standing up from the table.

Charlotte had in total four brothers and sisters, all younger then her, all more willing to conform to the town's society. She loved them all dearly, she honestly did, she just wish that they would open their eyes and see that there was a life outside of the Gate. She hated the fact that they were all so scared. Scared of the night, of strangers, of themselves. It was utter madness. The world had too much to offer to lock yourself in and be too afraid to witness all of it's miracles.

The sun was high in the sky, though the smell of morning still lingered. Everyone was out of their houses going on with everyday activities. Chatter filled the air along with the laughter of children as the sun began to warm up the earth. It was the end of the week, no school for the children and only a limited amount of work for the adults. Everybody was happy.

Charlotte laughed, rolling her eyes as her youngest sister, Clara, tripped over her own feet, falling into a pile of dirt. Clara was her favorite. She stilled had that innocence that only a five year old could have. She looked at the world through the eyes of someone who never judged, someone who viewed everyone as equals. Charlotte cherished this time because she was sure that only in a few more years she would be like her older sister, Lou-Anne, who was eight. Lou-Anne was the most cynical child that she had ever met. She trusted no one and always saw the faults in people and held them against them to highest degree. Charlotte didn't like her much.

“Come on, Char,” Clara called as she picked herself up out of the dirt. It was time for training. Something that Charlotte had taken a fondness too. She loved using the weapons with the children, she loved teaching them.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” Charlotte laughed, running to catch up with her little sister. “Aren't you excited for class today.” Charlotte only got a fervent nod from Clara in response as she kicked at the small pebbles in the dirt.

Charlotte looked up from Clara as a group of guards ran past her towards the entrance of the Gate. What is going on, she wondered, squinting her eyes, trying to look past the sun. She shrugged her shoulders when she couldn't get a better look grabbing the hand that Clara offered her.

“What are we going to do today, Char,” Clara asked, looking up at her sister with wonderment in her eyes.

Charlotte paused for a moment, bending down to Clara's level and whispering in her ear, “It's a surprise.”

“Char,” Clara whined, turning away from her.

“What have you done now,” laughed a voice from behind them.

Charlotte stood up, turning around, “The usual,” she grinned before hugging the girl. “How are you today, Anna?”

“The usual," she smirked. "Mother wants me to go into the city to get some herbs,” Anna explained, unwrapping her arms from Charlotte's shoulders. “She's working on a new potion, one for invisibility.”

“Well, you are a lucky one, are you not,” Charlotte sighed. “I wish I could go into the city, but father told me that I could not.”

“It's not that different.” Anna tried to make her friend feel better, but she knew it wasn't working when Charlotte gave her that look. The look that said 'yeah, right, and pigs fly'. “How are you today, little Clara?”

“Char won't tell me what we are doing in training,” Clara pouted, crossing her tiny arms over her chest. Anna and Charlotte shared a look before an ear piercing scream cut through the late-morning air causing Clara's eyes turn as round as saucers. “Charlotte,” she whimpered trying to climb up her legs.

“Sh,” she patted her hair as she watched the people around her run around. Charlotte grabbed Anna's arm, bringing her down to their level. “Can you take Clara back home for me,” she asked, her eyes pleading.

“I would love to, Charlotte,” Anna nodded, keeping a level voice as she peeled Clara off of Charlotte.

“Thank-you,” Charlotte mouthed before running towards the entrance of town.

A group of people were surrounding a small area once Charlotte reached the entrance. They were huddled around a crumpled body covered in blood, but she couldn't make out anymore then that. She spotted her father, trying to make her way further into the crowed before he could spot her. It didn't work.

“You should not be here, Charlotte,” Henry scolded his daughter when he caught sight of her. “Where is your sister?”

“I asked Anna to take her back home.” She was trying to peek over the shoulders of the everyone to try and get a better look, paying little attention to her father.

Henry grabbed her shoulders, spinning her away from the scene. “You need to get home.”

“What happened,” she asked as he began to push. “Father,” she yelled. “What happened?” She spun around, facing him. He stared at her for a moment before she continued, “I am turning twenty-one in a week. You need to stop treating me like a child.” She took a breath, calming herself. “Now what happened?”

“Vampire.”

Charlotte felt all blood drain from her face as her father said that one word. Only one thing kept running through her mind. Her older brother.

“Who was it,” she asked with a shaky breath.

“Some hunter, no one from here. Now please, Charlotte, go home.” Charlotte nodded, tears prickling her eyes, before turning around and leaving the scene of the Vampire attack.