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Into The Abyss

Summary:
The year is 1903. In this era, beauty is everything, and those who are wealthy, are those who are beutiful.That's when I saw him. The man with the golden eyes... Yes, it's about everyone's favorite person....Victoria, or as I know her as....Vicky Longstocking!!! Enjoy


Notes:
Ok, folks, just a little head's up.... There are over seventy reads on tis story and NO SODDING REVIEWS!!! To be nice, I would greatly apprieciate feedback, because I don't know if this is good or not. Criticism is also greatly appreiciated.....just give me something!!!!


1. Chapter 1

Rating 0/5   Word Count 2431   Review this Chapter

The year is 1903. In this era, beauty is everything and those who are weathly, are those who those are considered beautiful.

It is a warm summer night, and those who make middle income jobs are all sitting down to a family meal and discussing their day. Today, however, is June 14th and those, of social importance who reside in Charleston, are all preparing to spend an evening at the Tyson estate, where Henry Tyson’s daughter is celebrating her 20th birthday.

Henry Tyson was a wealthy cotton producer and made his living by factory-making his cotton into anything of value. His wife, Anne, and he had three children, Oliver, their oldest son, Warner, and Victoria, their most adored child. All three children have had prestigious lives and had advanced schooling. Any other child would have had adequate teachings and gone to lead a simple life; these children, however, were born for greatness.

But tonight our only focus is on the large, blue South Carolina estate and the young woman about to celebrate the last birthday of her life.

Victoria Anne Tyson was a pretty young girl. Her high cheekbones and blue eyes making her noticeable, but her fiery red hair making her a beauty beyond anything a Southern man had ever seen. She sat in her lush pink and green room combing her hair and making last minute preparations for her party. As she sits, Victoria sees something in the reflection of her mirror. The outline of a face appears, but no more; she can only make out one thing, a pair of golden eyes, staring back at her.

She turns around to find her room empty. No one had entered or exited, leaving Victoria to question her nerves for a moment. As she thinks, Lily, the maid that works for Mrs. Tyson, enters her room.

“Oh, Mss Victoria,” she gushes, “don’t you look absolutely divine!”

“Thank you Lily. I do rather like my attire for this evening.” She inspects herself with great pride. Victoria Tyson was never smug or petty, only proud. Her pride, always being her downfall.

“Mrs. Tyson would like me to tell you that guests have started arrivin’. Ya’ll best be gettin’ all settled to come on downstairs.”

“Tell my mother I will come down in a moment.” Lily smiles and leaves the room. “If I must, I must,” whispered Victoria to no one in particular. She got up from her chair and inspected herself one last time.

She wore her long, puffy green dress hit her ankles where her most favorite black shoes reached. Her hair was up in a bun and a single curly strand landed on her cheek. Her white gloves reached the top of her elbows and she wore her most beautiful ruby necklace. Before she left, Victoria made sure her makeup was just right, once patting one last amount of powder on her cheeks, she made her way downstairs.

Victoria could see over two dozen guests in the grand foyer alone. As she descended the large marble staircase, Victoria noticed a man standing in the great room. His shoulder-length brown hair was tied into a ponytail and his clothes were that of a northerner, a Yankee. But before Victoria continued to make her way down the staircase, she noticed something about the gentleman, his eyes.

His eyes were a deep colour of gold and staring right into hers. She looked for another moment, mesmerized, and then greeted her guests.

Victoria noticed that the vast majority of her guests were suitors her father wanted her to meet. This didn’t bother Victoria; she enjoyed flirting with the men and then letting them down.

It was this simple fact that fueled the pride that radiated off her body.

But throughout her whole life, Victoria had never truly wanted something. If she did, that something was immediately given to her with haste. Victoria had always been used to getting her own way, whether it be clothing, jewelry, trinkets, and especially men, it was always hers to with it whatever she pleased.

It was this simple fact that made Victoria the perfect woman who “played hard to get”.

Now, even as she greeted all of her guests with great pleasure and kindness, she wanted to see the man again. The man with the golden eyes. She saw him in her room, she had seen him in her house, and now she was going to find him. Victoria always got what she wanted, one way or another.

It was this simple fact that made Victoria who she was deep inside, a person with a desire for everything she sees and touches.

“Mss Victoria!” a loud, gleeful voice was heard behind her, “Mss Victoria Tyson, my dear!” Victoria turned to see Benjamin Barely, a wealthy wheat producer whom Victoria was suspected to marry.

In all honesty, Victoria did not want to marry Benjamin Barely. She detested the man greatly, though showed no sign of her true feelings for him. Mr. Barely was a short man, with a large belly and posterior. He was often shouting, even during simple conversation, and would never remember to button his middle shirt button. Mr. Barely also was forty one years old and slightly balding; this was not something Victoria wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Victoria Anne Tyson wanted fame, fortune, glory, and a life of wealth and luxury.

And it was this simple fact that made Victoria the most vulnerable person in Charleston.

“Mss Tyson, my dear!” Mr. Barely came over to Victoria and, much to her disgust, planted a wet kiss on her cheek.

“Good evening, Mr. Barely,” she said in fake kindness, “thank you for attending tonight. It is a great honor to have you in my father’s house.” Of course, she did not mean one word of what she said.

“Well, it is an honor to be here! Twenty years old already, a wonderful age to be betrothed I might say,” He lifted his bushy eyebrows, “And how are your brothers, prosperous, I presume.”

“Why yes, Oliver has just sold fifty cotton engines this month and Warner has increased his tobacco and vegetable production by ten percent. They and their families are quite well.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Barely, however, could truly care less about Victoria’s brothers, “I would wish to speak with you in privet, Mss Victoria, I-” Victoria cut him off before he could finish.

“Oh, look,” she pulled Mr. Barely across the room, thinking quickly, “Here is Oliver right now, how about you two catch up on old times. I’m sure my brother would be happy to have a talk with you.” She looked at Oliver with pleading eyes; he smiled.

“Oh, I indeed would enjoy a talk with Mr. Barely.” He leaned over and kissed Victoria’s cheek and whispered, “You owe me, little sister.”

“Thank you,” she whispered back. As Victoria walked away from the two men, she didn’t realize that that was the last time she would ever see Mr. Barely and her brother Oliver again.

As Victoria made her way through the crowd of guests, she noticed a man, standing and having a debate with Mr. Jekinns, he old man who had owned over twenty plantations throughout South Carolina, Alabama, and Georgia. She had no need to look at the young man again before she knew that it was him, the man with the golden eyes.

She walked over to him quickly, wanting to speak to him. She wanted to look into his beautiful golden eyes again. As she approached, the young man stiffened, he looked in her direction and smiled dryly.

“Good evening, Mr. Jekinns,” she said politely, “do you mind if I borrow this man for a minute?”

“Why yes, Mss Victoria, and might I add a happy birthday.” She smiled and walked the man into an empty kitchen.

“Might I ask your name? I haven’t seen you around this part of Charleston.” The man looked at her with confusion written across his face, he paused for a while and then answered.

“James,” he said in a musical voice, “My name is James.”

“Ah, do you have a last name?”

“No, everybody just calls me James. Simple as that.” He looked at her with his golden eyes and she forgot her next question.

“Well, James…” Victoria cleared her head, “do you reside from the northern parts of the country?”

“I travel.” There was a brief pause and a kitchen maid came scurrying into the room and grabbed a bowl of flour and left. “Perhaps we should talk elsewhere, the kitchen may not be as private as you wish.” He nodded his head towards the door.

“And what makes you think I wish to speak in private?”

“What woman asks to talk to a man, especially a woman like you,” he raised his eyebrows, “only to take him into a kitchen and ask his name? I assumed you preferred privacy.”

“And how do you know your presumptions are correct? I could have brought you here because of the amount of noise in the great room and hall foyer, or perhaps I prefer the kitchen to any other room in the house.”

“But you don’t.” He was right, but Victoria would never admit that.

“Has my father invited you to this party, I did not think a man who resides in the North would be a great friend with my father or brothers.”

“What makes you think I reside in the North?”

“Your clothing are one of a northerner, you also stated you travel. A man such as yourself would stop in northern states for a drink and a place to rest. I only assumed you lived there for sometime.”

“And what if I decided not to live in the North? What would you say to that?”

“But you didn’t.” She smiled slyly.

James knew nothing of this woman other than her wealth and supposed beauty. Now that he had met the young Victoria Tyson, he knew why so many men wanted her as their own. But the beast, the monster inside of him wanted more, it wanted her. Her blood was flowing smoothly in her veins, her pulse racing, her skin slightly flushed. He wanted that more than he wanted her. But couldn’t he have both? She was not a frail girl, but he would have no problem luring her into the woods, then she would truly be his.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested. She followed him outside and they stood by the corn fields. “You are…amazing.” He inhaled deeply, bringing in her sent. She narrowed her eyes and smiled slightly. His lips turned upward as well, but they were not a smile. In the fifty years James had been dead, he had never once smiled.

“Thank you, James.” Her faced brightened into a deep red, he was just about to pounce.

Not yet…not yet… he thought. “I hear you have received excellent schooling.”

“You are correct.” They walked further into the plantation fields.

“Do you know the story of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’?”

“Of course,” she looked confused. They were almost in the center of the corn field.

“The wolf, he wanted the young girl, if I am not mistaken.” He stood in front of her.

“Yes, the wolf wished to eat the young girl, he ate her grandmother. Then, a lumberjack came and slaughtered the wolf and cut out the little girl’s grandmother.”

“Yes, do you recall what the wolf said to the little girl?”

“Indeed I do.” Victoria had heard the story several times as a child, mostly as a story to teach her morals of life, but she enjoyed the story all the same. “James, the party…at midnight is when the cheering begins; I mustn’t worry my family or guests.”

“Just…wait,” he paused, “what, exactly, did the girl say?” Victoria waited, worried.

“Grandmother, what big eyes you have…”

“All the better to see you with.” He whispered, looking at her neck.

“What big ears you have…”

“All the better to hear you with,” he said a little louder, listening to her heartbeat, the last beats it had left.

“What big teeth you have…”

“All the better to eat you with.” He said, barring his fangs.

“Oh my…” Victoria ran, but of course James could catch her. He ran in front of her and grabbed her waist.

“It won’t hurt…not at first, anyway. Just a small pinch, a few days, that’s all it takes.”

“Who are you?” she asked struggling in his grasp.

“I have already told you, my name is James.”

“No, no…”

“Ah, well we can discuss that later. But for now…” he bit into her neck, indulging in her blood, the taste, so, so unbelievable. Victoria screamed, but he silenced her quickly. “Now, now Victoria, I believe you were born for greatness, you always wanted fame, am I correct?” she only stared, horrified. “Well, now you can have both my sweet. Just wait, you’ll be famous…forever.”

It was then Victoria fainted. He pulled her into his arms, left the field and ran away, away from the life that Victoria had known. It was not until over one hundred years later James will smell and taste, if not for a brief moment, the blood of a woman almost as seductive as young Victoria Anne Tyson’s.

Ten minutes later, the guests at Victoria Tyson’s party were not cheering the “whoops” and “hurrahs” of the young hostess’s twentieth birthday, but standing in the large blue South Carolina home, waiting, wondering, worrying what happened to the young lady.

At that very same time, young Victoria Anne Tyson was not in her large South Carolina estate, but on the ground of the forest thirty miles away. Victoria wasn’t listening to the “whoops” and “hurrahs” of her dear party guests, but her own bloodcurdling screams of pain and torture.

It was at the stroke of midnight that the guests were left with nothing but worry and confusion.

It was at the stroke of midnight that Victoria Anne Tyson spent the last seconds of her life as a human.

Beauty comes at such a price…what would some pay to have it?