Before I begin the writing of this story, which by some standards will be short by others long (this will all depend on when I finish it, of course) I would like to say a few things.  There will be no actual ending because the premises of the story make an end impossible.  The things that inspired this story is a series of four drawings, done in the anime style, of a blue haired girl, my own fear of death, and the MUDs I have played.  There is little symbolism in the novella (this is what I hope it will be).  Any point I am trying to make should be obvious, most speculation about meaning will be merely that.  These characters are NOT representations of myself!!!  Read at own discretion.  I hope to transfer this story to the graphic novel style seen in what I believe is the first sandman book in which each panel is a large piece of art with text on either side.
 
 

Intro 1 : The female lead

    Under normal circumstances her presence in the club would have been unusual.  It is impossible to tell what age she is but she could not be over twenty one, if even over eighteen.  However, no one questions her and there she sits at the small round table, drinking a tall glass filled with a blue drink that almost matches her hair and eye color, not that these would have been readily apparent in the flashing multicolored lights of the dance club.  What can be seen is a happy innocent smile.  She does not finish the drink but stands up, rising to her full height of five foot two.  She leaves a bit of currency and walks out of the club.  One could catch the name "Your mind is Ours" on the way out.  This bold statement seems not to be a deterrent to its patrons, but appears to actually draw many patrons.  She walks down the sidewalk, around her skyscrapers rise.  It is really not possible to tell where she might be going, but she does not know either.  It is dark except for the orange glow of streetlights.  She looks over her shoulder, as if to check if someone is there, or maybe not there.  Apparently satisfied with the outcome she continues before stopping at the foot of an apartment building about twelve stories high and looks at the names.  It appears that she is about to move on when the door opens and she is beckoned in.  The door closes and she is no longer outside.

    "You're finally here."  It is a man in his twenties speaking.

    The girl look around as she follows him to an elevator.  They both enter.

    "You new?  It usually doesn't take this long."

    Again there is no response, but the man seems satisfied.  The elevator stops on the fourth floor and they both get out.  The girl seems sure of herself as she follows the man to his apartment.  He shuts the door and gets out a bottle of cheap wine, he pours to glasses and moves to kiss her.  A smile she has been wearing since the club turns into a neutral expression for a moment as she reaches around the man's head as if to draw him closer, then grabs his chin and pulls his head around so swiftly neither of them has time to react.
 
 

Intro 2:  The male lead

    Some choose paths which have already been traveled by others.   Others follow paths traveled by others without choosing to follow, the very lack of conformity to a preset stereotype making them part of a stereotype.  He is one of the latter.  He does not consider himself a stalker, but it was becoming easier to mistake himself for one.

He had been following this particular girls activities for a few weeks.  Her actions followed no logic or pattern, nor did they now.  To describe him at this point would be pointless, for he did not exist the same way to everyone other than a basic idea.  No, a description will not come until he and the female lead meet, and give him a definite shape through her eyes.  He follows her unseen, and he knows she knows.  Of course she doesn't know consciously that she is aware of his prescience, but he had a feeling that mattered little.  He followed her because she was different.  Mortal in appearance yet she yet she behaved as if nothing held her in its power.  In the last century he had seen her live everywhere from park benches to mansions.  She did everything and nothing hindered her, in fact everything help facilitate her path to everything she did.  But none of this happened with her knowing, she seemed like an audience to her own whim.  And always she was happy.  He followed her along the sidewalk.  It was hard to tell who it was checking that he was still there, but he felt that she was growing accustomed to his presence.  Whoever that was.  Tonight however something new was happening.  She was visiting another person, before she had always been alone.  except for his silent watch over her, but he had never given a sign of his existence or interfered with any of the things she did.  He watched with curiosity then growing dismay as events unfolded.

The man's neck snapped and he went limp.  She looked at the body and her hands, focusing on neither.  She shoved the limp corpse off of her lap and ran to the window on the other side of the living room.  With strength that she could not have she tossed a recliner through the pane of glass, shattering all over the floor,  and prepared to jump, before she could follow through she crumpled into a heap onto the floor amongst the glass shards.  A shadow gathered her up and carried her through the window, and into a world he had not visited for millennia.
 
 

Chapter 1: Sleepers awaken
 

She opened her eyes and for the first time in centuries was fully aware of what she saw.  Not that she knew this.  As she came to she became aware of her surroundings.  She was lying on a firm yet soft bed, above her the ceiling was covered in ornate wood carvings.  She had a thin quilt thrown over her and she could feel that she was still wearing her daytime clothing.  Beside the bed sat a large easy chair in which sat a person.  It took a while for her to gather all the details.  He was clean shaven and his hair lay neatly along his scalp.  It was drawn back into a thong and hung down his back.  It was like his clothing black.  His slate eyes were watching her passively, not focused but taking in every detail.

"What is this place?"  She asked.

":It is my home."  He answered.

His clothing was coming into focus now.  A black jacket of soft leather, she could almost feel its feathery feel, she had seen leather like this before.  Under it was a white formal shirt, a pair of black pants was held in place by a sturdy leather belt which also went up over his should on each side crossing itself in the front and back.  This was however hard to see because the belt was hidden by the fold of the loose white shirt which was tied in place over the belt across the middle with a thin white rope.  After closer inspection it came more obvious that the belt did not exist to support the pants but probably to hold weapons.  Hi wore black polished boots that disappeared beneath his pants.  She was not sure what they were made of, but got the distinct impression that it was shark skin.  I never occurred to her to question who he was or where his home was.  She did not feel threatened for some strange reason.  Instead she tried to remember the happenings that had brought her to this strange place.