Title: Xantar - not quite a human, not quite a vampire.
Email: JDowzell@aol.com

Story: The place: the almost deserted village of Khalamir. The time: mid 18th century. A lone figure, who had obviously been running from someone for a long time, jumped down from a rooftop, landing in a cart of what seemed to be fruit and vegetables, possibly from the market that had been held earlier that day. After getting out, he ran through the cobbled streets, his pointed metal shoes clinking and slipping on the cobbles, as it began to rain. As he reached the outskirts of the quaint little village, the angry mob that was chasing him came round the corner, looking round for him, and upon seeing the glimpse of his cloak, they immediately took chase. Since it was raining, he had a hard time trying not to fall over as he ran away from a group of people who were trying to kill him. He eventually found refuge in an abandoned barnyard. He hid deep within the towering haystacks as the mob of villagers ran straight past him; so close he could feel the heat from the torches and the stink in their breaths. He sat down on some withered hay, rang out his cloak, and reviewed the situation. After a while, he have a half-hearted laugh to himself, and uttered, under his breath, "What's a vampire got to do to make a living in his town, eh?"
And so he lay there, on the haystack, eating the fruit he collected earlier. He was a being, seen by the normal folk of the town, as having 'corrupt blood,' never taking the time to get to know him. Because if they did, their view of him would be totally different to the vision they had of him now. "Life is tough on you, isn't it? "...

Comments: Hi all! First time entering in the contest, and I'm sorry for the crappy quality, I had to shrink it down a lot. Oh, and you can ignore the text in the middle, I originally did this for an english project. Anyhoo, enjoy :)