KichiZula
Offline
KichiZula
Offline
- Quote
- Report Post
- Posted: Wed, 14 Jul 2010 18:01:25 +0000
Concrete was staring Alex Jacob Thomas in the face. His cheek was pressed against it, and he shivered against the chill it brought to his skin. Red-brown hair clung in wavy tangles to his forehead and neck, sticking with sweat. His body ached, starting at his legs which burned from their awkward position. He knelt on the ground with his right leg crossed under his left. The lower half of that leg had gone numb long ago, and the slightest movement brought back tingles of sharp feeling. His back was sore, and his neck was stiff from holding his head up at an odd angle. And now he buried his face against the ground and allowed himself the tears that had been burning behind his eyes and aching in his throat. His sides convulsed as a sob shot to his lips uncontrollably. He winced as pain shot through his muscles.
It had been an hour since he set foot in this room. An hour since he was shoved to the ground in this position. An hour since his worst nightmare had paid a visit to his reality. An hour since three more humans lived in this room than now. He felt a knifing pain in the space between his neck and shoulder. He sucked in a breath and gasped in pain. He brought his head up, too fast for his throbbing neck. The shoe jabbing into the crook of his neck slid under his chin and tilted his head up further. He groaned a complaint through clenched teeth. His nostrils were flooded with the familiar scent of leather with a note of cedar. He brought his eyes up and met the silver pair that was observing him with a glint of amusement. The nose under the pair was sharp and the mouth pale and thin, grinning sadistically. How he hated and loved that face.
"How's the view from down there?" that metallic voice rang, a familiar, sweet-as-honey, slicing sound that could almost be mistaken as holding human emotion.
The view was not a pretty thing. It was a scene of despair, of horror, and of disbelief. In the corner of the barren room was a group of five young women. One sat straight up, face pale as death and jaw set. Alex focused his eyes on her face. She was shaking. Three of the others were huddled around her with their hands on the smallest girl who was convulsing on her knees, trembling and releasing muffled cries and groans.
The nine other living humans in the room were in similar groupings. A few were alone like Alex, face to the ground, blocking out the world and all of the reality that accompanied it. Against the far wall two boys, one older and one younger than Alex, rested unconscious. The younger boy's right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. The older had stains of blood setting into his checker-print shirt.
One of the dead, a girl of about fifteen with shoulder-length jet black hair and the brightest blue eyes Alex had ever seen, lay against the wall to his right. Those eyes were now clouded orbs, staring out at something no one else could see in the center of the room. Her hair was mussed and matted with blood on the right side of her head which rested against the wall. A few feet above her head, a section of cinder blocks wore a new streak of natural paint. Even looking away, that red color, stark against the white, haunted his peripheral vision and his mind.
"Alex?" He was brought back to that voice, those eyes like molten silver, that simmering, chilling gaze. Those lips were twisted. "The look on your face is so childish, Alex."
The man crouched in front of Alex, and when he opened his mouth to continue, Alex imagined a beautifully crafted and terrifying gargoyle, mouth gaping as though it would swallow him whole. "You look so scared." He felt a cold touch on his face as the man stroked his cheek. "So human." Alex squeezed his eyes shut, and as the man moved away, laughing lightly and gliding over to the next person, Alex's head dropped back to the concrete. His breathing was heavy, and he felt as though the pressure in the room had risen exponentially, as though it would crush his mind. His stomach had knotted itself up and burrowed into his heart. He suddenly felt very cold as perspiration rose to the surface of his skin again. More than anything he wanted to run, in some way to be away from that man that had haunted him for so long. He was tired. And the scars on his back burned. They always burned around him.
When he lifted his unwilling head, his eyes snapped to the other two of the dead, as though they were drawn by the horror itself. The bodies were unnatural, tangled in the corner to his left. He felt bile rise in his throat, and turned his head away. He suppressed the urge to retch, and the scent of vomit registered sharply in his nose, reminding him of those were not so able to hold back their reflex. The man grunted loudly from his far right. Alex turned his face slowly with sad and frozen eyes. It wasn't over. It was never over.
His nightmare was lifting a young boy by the neck. He held the boy's face at the level of his own, and grinned, that familiar look that seemed to hold as much amusement as disinterest. It was as though there just wasn't enough in the world to amuse him anymore, nothing good enough for him, or so Alex imagined of him, but he knew that man, for he resisted calling him by the name he had given him when they had met, was never predictable. Alex watched, numb from necessity, lest he continue a downward spiral into insanity. What was the point of trying to care anymore? He would always destroy everything. It didn't matter whether Alex cared or not. That's what he kept telling himself as he tried to ignore the knot in his throat and his screaming heart.
The boy was kicking, his little hands prying, scratching at the man’s arm and wrist. The look on his face was one Alex assumed would haunt him for the rest of his life. Another nightmare for his restless nights. The man's hand was unnatural, bony with long fingers resembling claws. Alex could see dark bruises appearing on the boy's neck around those claw fingers. That grip was inhuman. Even knowing about the man, Alex was unnerved by this detail.
A woman was off of the ground and attacking the man a moment later. Alex assumed she was the boy's mother. She was young, perhaps in her late twenties. Her eyes were wild like an animal's. She was screaming, screeching, incomprehensible and desperate. The man's other hand struck her in the head. It was a loud sound, more like breaking wood than anything Alex could relate it to. Again, it was unnatural. She fell to the ground a few feet away, unconscious, hopefully dreaming of a better day with her precious son. Alex's throat was stiff, but he would not let the tears come to his eyes. Perhaps, he thought, it would be better if that one did not wake up.
The boy fell still. Unconscious, Alex assumed. He had no idea how long it took for one to die of strangulation, and certainly that man was capable of a quick kill. He probably wanted to savor that feeling of a slowing pulse against his fingers, of swelling skin pressing into his fingers, of kicking feet that knocked his legs, helpless and futile. It was a thought that turned Alex's stomach for the hundredth time that day.
The man lifted the boy higher, another foot into the air, drew his arm to the side, showing no sign that the weight was any strain at all, and hurled the limp body. It struck the wall with a sickening sound. Alex heard a sharp crack. He didn't want to know what had broken, but he could not look away. The body fell to the ground, and a stream of red pooled from under the little head. The man walked forward, letting the blood stream around his shoes. Alex was hit by an imaginary scent, that faint cedar and leather mixed with the sickening pungent odor of warm blood. Alex pressed his forehead into the concrete, trying to stop imagining that horrid mixture.
"Alex." He wouldn't look up. He couldn't look up. He wanted to shrivel into himself and never come out, to crawl into the deepest, dank corner of his soul and hide there, but he would find him even there. He would always find him. "Come here, child." That voice was so much like bells. It was the only comparison Alex had ever found for it. It would shift from soft metallic notes to a solid ring like a church bell. It was that softer sound now, like little bells. Alex thought of the string of tiny bells his mother used to hang from the front door handle for Christmas. Little green and red bells. "Come here." And a sharper sound. "Alex." That note like a church bell, resounding, loud, clear, alarming. It used to seem so beautiful.
He lifted his head. Those eyes were watching him. Those silver eyes. In that moment, Alex saw those eyes shift. With an unnatural clarity of sight, one that was almost in his mind alone, he saw the color change. It started at the edge of the pupil. The silver was on fire, turning to a golden hue, and it spread to the outer edge of the iris. Golden eyes, like a snake, watching him, evaluating, Alex felt, his every move and his every thought.
An involuntary shiver ran through Alex. He felt his shoulders tremble, the sweat on his back chill like a thin coating of frost. He could feel those scars more than ever, as though they had branded into his very soul. He clenched his teeth against the sudden pain. They clattered sharply, to his ears, with the winter that had overtaken him.
The man held a hand out. Those claws, those bones, like the reaching branches of a sinister tree. He was smiling, a smile that said he knew that Alex would come. They always came. Alex always came.
It had been an hour since he set foot in this room. An hour since he was shoved to the ground in this position. An hour since his worst nightmare had paid a visit to his reality. An hour since three more humans lived in this room than now. He felt a knifing pain in the space between his neck and shoulder. He sucked in a breath and gasped in pain. He brought his head up, too fast for his throbbing neck. The shoe jabbing into the crook of his neck slid under his chin and tilted his head up further. He groaned a complaint through clenched teeth. His nostrils were flooded with the familiar scent of leather with a note of cedar. He brought his eyes up and met the silver pair that was observing him with a glint of amusement. The nose under the pair was sharp and the mouth pale and thin, grinning sadistically. How he hated and loved that face.
"How's the view from down there?" that metallic voice rang, a familiar, sweet-as-honey, slicing sound that could almost be mistaken as holding human emotion.
The view was not a pretty thing. It was a scene of despair, of horror, and of disbelief. In the corner of the barren room was a group of five young women. One sat straight up, face pale as death and jaw set. Alex focused his eyes on her face. She was shaking. Three of the others were huddled around her with their hands on the smallest girl who was convulsing on her knees, trembling and releasing muffled cries and groans.
The nine other living humans in the room were in similar groupings. A few were alone like Alex, face to the ground, blocking out the world and all of the reality that accompanied it. Against the far wall two boys, one older and one younger than Alex, rested unconscious. The younger boy's right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. The older had stains of blood setting into his checker-print shirt.
One of the dead, a girl of about fifteen with shoulder-length jet black hair and the brightest blue eyes Alex had ever seen, lay against the wall to his right. Those eyes were now clouded orbs, staring out at something no one else could see in the center of the room. Her hair was mussed and matted with blood on the right side of her head which rested against the wall. A few feet above her head, a section of cinder blocks wore a new streak of natural paint. Even looking away, that red color, stark against the white, haunted his peripheral vision and his mind.
"Alex?" He was brought back to that voice, those eyes like molten silver, that simmering, chilling gaze. Those lips were twisted. "The look on your face is so childish, Alex."
The man crouched in front of Alex, and when he opened his mouth to continue, Alex imagined a beautifully crafted and terrifying gargoyle, mouth gaping as though it would swallow him whole. "You look so scared." He felt a cold touch on his face as the man stroked his cheek. "So human." Alex squeezed his eyes shut, and as the man moved away, laughing lightly and gliding over to the next person, Alex's head dropped back to the concrete. His breathing was heavy, and he felt as though the pressure in the room had risen exponentially, as though it would crush his mind. His stomach had knotted itself up and burrowed into his heart. He suddenly felt very cold as perspiration rose to the surface of his skin again. More than anything he wanted to run, in some way to be away from that man that had haunted him for so long. He was tired. And the scars on his back burned. They always burned around him.
When he lifted his unwilling head, his eyes snapped to the other two of the dead, as though they were drawn by the horror itself. The bodies were unnatural, tangled in the corner to his left. He felt bile rise in his throat, and turned his head away. He suppressed the urge to retch, and the scent of vomit registered sharply in his nose, reminding him of those were not so able to hold back their reflex. The man grunted loudly from his far right. Alex turned his face slowly with sad and frozen eyes. It wasn't over. It was never over.
His nightmare was lifting a young boy by the neck. He held the boy's face at the level of his own, and grinned, that familiar look that seemed to hold as much amusement as disinterest. It was as though there just wasn't enough in the world to amuse him anymore, nothing good enough for him, or so Alex imagined of him, but he knew that man, for he resisted calling him by the name he had given him when they had met, was never predictable. Alex watched, numb from necessity, lest he continue a downward spiral into insanity. What was the point of trying to care anymore? He would always destroy everything. It didn't matter whether Alex cared or not. That's what he kept telling himself as he tried to ignore the knot in his throat and his screaming heart.
The boy was kicking, his little hands prying, scratching at the man’s arm and wrist. The look on his face was one Alex assumed would haunt him for the rest of his life. Another nightmare for his restless nights. The man's hand was unnatural, bony with long fingers resembling claws. Alex could see dark bruises appearing on the boy's neck around those claw fingers. That grip was inhuman. Even knowing about the man, Alex was unnerved by this detail.
A woman was off of the ground and attacking the man a moment later. Alex assumed she was the boy's mother. She was young, perhaps in her late twenties. Her eyes were wild like an animal's. She was screaming, screeching, incomprehensible and desperate. The man's other hand struck her in the head. It was a loud sound, more like breaking wood than anything Alex could relate it to. Again, it was unnatural. She fell to the ground a few feet away, unconscious, hopefully dreaming of a better day with her precious son. Alex's throat was stiff, but he would not let the tears come to his eyes. Perhaps, he thought, it would be better if that one did not wake up.
The boy fell still. Unconscious, Alex assumed. He had no idea how long it took for one to die of strangulation, and certainly that man was capable of a quick kill. He probably wanted to savor that feeling of a slowing pulse against his fingers, of swelling skin pressing into his fingers, of kicking feet that knocked his legs, helpless and futile. It was a thought that turned Alex's stomach for the hundredth time that day.
The man lifted the boy higher, another foot into the air, drew his arm to the side, showing no sign that the weight was any strain at all, and hurled the limp body. It struck the wall with a sickening sound. Alex heard a sharp crack. He didn't want to know what had broken, but he could not look away. The body fell to the ground, and a stream of red pooled from under the little head. The man walked forward, letting the blood stream around his shoes. Alex was hit by an imaginary scent, that faint cedar and leather mixed with the sickening pungent odor of warm blood. Alex pressed his forehead into the concrete, trying to stop imagining that horrid mixture.
"Alex." He wouldn't look up. He couldn't look up. He wanted to shrivel into himself and never come out, to crawl into the deepest, dank corner of his soul and hide there, but he would find him even there. He would always find him. "Come here, child." That voice was so much like bells. It was the only comparison Alex had ever found for it. It would shift from soft metallic notes to a solid ring like a church bell. It was that softer sound now, like little bells. Alex thought of the string of tiny bells his mother used to hang from the front door handle for Christmas. Little green and red bells. "Come here." And a sharper sound. "Alex." That note like a church bell, resounding, loud, clear, alarming. It used to seem so beautiful.
He lifted his head. Those eyes were watching him. Those silver eyes. In that moment, Alex saw those eyes shift. With an unnatural clarity of sight, one that was almost in his mind alone, he saw the color change. It started at the edge of the pupil. The silver was on fire, turning to a golden hue, and it spread to the outer edge of the iris. Golden eyes, like a snake, watching him, evaluating, Alex felt, his every move and his every thought.
An involuntary shiver ran through Alex. He felt his shoulders tremble, the sweat on his back chill like a thin coating of frost. He could feel those scars more than ever, as though they had branded into his very soul. He clenched his teeth against the sudden pain. They clattered sharply, to his ears, with the winter that had overtaken him.
The man held a hand out. Those claws, those bones, like the reaching branches of a sinister tree. He was smiling, a smile that said he knew that Alex would come. They always came. Alex always came.
Iheart2draw
Offline
- Quote
- Report Post
- Posted: Sat, 17 Jul 2010 23:53:10 +0000
HAPPY b a o
Okay, I fixed my story! I think this version is a lot better. But, that's just my opinion, which, since I'm the author, is kinda biased. 4laugh Anyway, I hope you like it! heart
A raven sat in the tree. The tree was the only thing in this barren, empty landscape. Just one lonely, leafless tree, decaying where it stood; with a big black raven perched in the top branch, ominously observing everything below with its beady little eyes. Underneath the tree sat a pale skinned, blue-eyed girl. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length copper hair, a nervous habit. She shivered, again out of nervous anticipation. It was winter, and it was chilly, but she wore her old college hoody, so she shouldn’t have been cold at all. She was just nervous. She was always nervous. When they were younger, her brother had often teased her, time and time again, that she worried too much. Her hands were clammy and sweaty, her heart beating just a tad too fast, her breath coming just a tad to quick and shallow. She was very uneasy.
The raven cawed and the girl jumped. There was a flutter of feathers and wings, and the bird took off into the sky. The girl, having just experienced the feeling of her heart jumping into her throat, leaned against the tree to steady herself. She took deep, calming breaths. “Calm down Sylvia.” She muttered to herself.
“Hello.” A male voice came from behind her. Sylvia spun around to see Jared. He was, as always, looking quite handsome, with his expensive Italian suit, and his golden hair in fashionable disarray and his ice blue eyes peering into her soul. They were the kind of eyes that pierced right through you, and froze you from the inside out. They were sharp and interrogating, like a hawk’s, the kind of eyes you couldn’t lie to, they saw through any facades. And Jared was the kind of person that if you deceived him, he would punish you, swiftly, neatly and efficiently, but not without taking the time to make sure it was excruciatingly painful on your part.
“So, you called me here?” Jared said, his voice like a chorus of angels. Funny, isn’t it, how that is exactly what he is not? Yes, Jared was a demon. He had no horns, or bat wings, no spiky little tail; he just looked like any human. Funny isn’t it, how people can seem perfectly normal, and yet they are actually from Hell? Funny, isn’t it, how people you know and maybe even love, aren’t really people at all? Funny, isn’t it? Jared thought so. I fact he often had a chuckle about it as he went on pretending to be a human. No one ever knew what he really was.
That is, no one except his business partners. He worked for the devil. Just like humans did their factories or their law firms or their dentist office. He got a paycheck, just like any other job. He even had a regular 9:00-5:00 schedule. But he loved his job very much, and he often found himself working overtime. Tonight he decided to work late. And so when Sylvia called, he had been the one to answer the phone. “Devil’s Deals Inc, how can I help you?” And Sylvia had told him about how much needed her help. She had told him to meet her by the tree. Jared remembered wondering, what tree? But he had realized when he arrived that it was obvious. There was only one tree.
“Yes. I called you here because I need to make a deal with you.” Sylvia spoke, her voice shaky, but still with more conviction than she felt. She continued, “My fiancé, he is very, very ill, and-”
“Let me guess, you want me to make him all better?” Jared rudely interrupted. “How corny. You couldn’t give me anything fun?”
“No, I don’t want you to heal him. He’s in a coma. In his will, I’m his sole beneficiary. And he is very, very rich. So if he dies, I get a lot of money. The thing is, since we aren’t actually married, I don’t have permission to pull the plug, and end his suffering and his heartache. And that b***h mom of his refuses to let him die!" she paused to take a breath. She continued, calmer, "I mean he’s just a vegetable now. His brain is like soup, although it wasn’t much more than that when he was alive either. I want you to kill him. I want you to make his heart stop beating. Then, it will end all his suffering. Also, I’ll get a lot of money.” Sylvia grinned.
“Okay, simple enough. Fun too. Of course you know, in ten years, we will have to come for you.” Jared reminded her.
“I don’t mind. Ten years is very far away.”
“Well of course, you know we have to seal our deal with a kiss.”
“Fine by me.” She leaned in and kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck on the cheek. It was passionate, on the lips. When they were done she told him, “Wow, you’re a great kisser. Nothing like my idiot fiancé.”
“I get a lot of practice in my line of work.” The demon grinned…
Nine Years, Eleven Months, Three Weeks, and Six Days Later
Sylvia woke up, dreading anticipation in the pit of her stomach. She had been that way for the past month. Today was the day. The day her lavish, spoiled lifestyle would end. The day her current husband would become a widower. The day when she would go to Hell. She could already hear the dogs in the distance, the Hell Hounds. She heard their eerie howls, when no one else could. But she didn’t want to die. She loved her life, loved her husband, loved her house, and, more than anything, she loved her money. She didn’t want to go to Hell, to leave this life behind. But deals with a demon, they cannot be broken. Even if she ran, they would find her. She had no choice; she was going to burn in Hell.
She could already feel the flames licking at her feet, like sharp tongues. Was it reality, or was it imagination? Was she going insane? She must have been, that one night. She had said that ten years was a long time. She must have been crazy, for ten years had gone by so fast. Greed and impatience, that would be her death. It wouldn’t be the Hell hounds that killed her, it would be her greed.
Fear crept up on her, an old friend reacquainting itself. It was not nervousness, or dread. It was pure fear. She was going to die. It was inevitable. She said goodbye to everyone, though none of them new it was forever. She even called those who lived far away, even her old friends from high school, just to say hello, though it was not the hello that was important to her, but the goodbye. And finally, she couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to.
Sylvia locked herself in the bathroom. She sunk down to the floor, biting her nails. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times. She heard the howls. They were getting closer. Before long, she heard barking and scrabbling at the door. She heard the hound rake its claws down the white door.
Fear. It filled her. No room for sadness or regret. Just raw, torturous fear. Her inevitable demise loomed over her like a dark cloud on a rainy day. She shut her eyes and rocked back and forth, muttering “O God. O God. O God! O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!” She was never much for prayers, but if there was ever a time for praying, it would be now. She didn’t know any prayers, so she made up her own. Really it was more of a chant. But she didn’t care. It was still something, something to hold onto, to steady her in this terrible storm.
A sudden breeze and fowl odor made her stop muttering and open her eyes. The door was off its hinges and in pieces. And the breeze had been the exhale of a giant black dog.
“O GOD!!!!!!!!” she yelled. She screamed and screamed as the great black beast, almost the size of a bear, lunged for her throat. But she dodged, its teeth barely grazing her neck. She pulled off her high-heeled shoe, and threw it at the wolf-like creature. The mangy mutt yelped in pain and surprise, and stumbled backward. That instant of hesitation was all Sylvia needed. She took her other shoe and used it to break the glass in the small, high window. She leaped up, her fingers scrambling for a hold on the windowsill. She climbed through the window. Normally, she wouldn’t have been able to reach, much less hold herself up. But adrenaline was pumping through her veins.
Once she was out the window, bleeding from the cuts she had received from the broken glass, she ran. The dogs, now there were three, were not far behind. She didn’t know where the other two had come from, but she didn’t have time to wonder. She did the only thing that came to her mind. She ran to the nearby creek. She didn’t know how she knew, but somewhere inside, some hidden instinct, told her she would be safe if she only made it to the other side of the creek.
When she was younger, she had been obsessed with ghosts and demons. And she had probably at some point researched Hell Hounds. That must have been how she knew. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she run. All that mattered was that she escape. She ran, her bare feet bloody from the sharp rocks and hard ground.
She could hear water. It was close. She ran even faster, somehow impossibly doubling her speed. Now only two hounds chased her, she must have lost one. Or perhaps it knew some short cut she had never learned. Perhaps it would come around and head her off. No, she mustn’t think such thoughts. She must focus only on running, on escape. Finally, she reached the creek. She hopped across it.
“Ha! I’m free! What can you do now? Nothing, that’s what!” Sylvia taunted the dogs.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.” Jared’s voice came from behind her. Jared was a man of business. To him this was just another business transaction. And he wasn’t about to have his business transactions delayed. “Come child, did you honestly think you could get away?” He looked at her with those probing hawk eyes, that ice blue interrogation.
“I-I hoped... Maybe. I suppose it was just wishful thinking.” Sylvia stuttered.
“Foolish little child. Now, this creek, it flows from a pond. The pond comes from underground water. So, my hounds, what beautiful creatures they are, could walk around the pond. The will get you in the end anyway." he grinned with pride, as if the hounds were his sons, "Come now child, it will hurt less if you don’t make them wait. They are very hungry, and while they generally kill you before they eat you, if you make them wait much longer, it won’t trouble them any to leave you alive.”
“No! I don’t want to die!”
“Come child, dear, it won’t hurt, not a bit. One swift bite, and its all over.” He was hugging her now. Though she didn’t know why, she felt comforted in his arms. Comforted in the arms of a demon.
“I’m scared.” She sobbed against his chest.
“There is nothing to fear, my sweet child. Don’t worry. Sshhh. Hush now. Hell’s not actually all that bad. After a while, it comes to feel like home.”
But Sylvia didn’t want to go to Hell. She didn’t want to die. And she certainly didn’t want Hell to feel like home. What was wrong with her, seeking comfort from a demon? What’s wrong with her? Realizing what she was doing, she pulled away from him, as if waking up from a daze. She slapped him and ran. She saw a tree nearby, just low enough to climb, just high enough that the menacing monstrosities couldn’t reach. Unfortunately, it was a pine tree. Its needles cut into her, and despite their sweet resinous scent, they were sharp and painful.
“It doesn’t matter! You can run, you can even hide! They’ll get you in the end! It’s just a matter of delaying your doom! You’ll fall! You’ll lose your grip, you’ll fall asleep, and eventually, you’ll fall off the tree!" the dogs howled, growing closer every second, "And then we’ll have you! We’ll get you in the end! We’ll chase you all over the world! And you’ve kept my precious pets waiting to long! They’re hungry! Very, very hungry! Starving, ravenous even! So they’ll make sure it’s excruciating for you!” Jared shouted, dropping his nice act.
At that instant, a big black bird, a raven, cawed loudly. Sylvia almost slipped, but managed not to fall. She looked down; it was a long way to fall. She saw Jared, moving his hands in a strange way. Then she realized the raven was moving in the same way as his hands. He was controlling the bird! She was done for, she knew it. The raven pecked at her, pecked and pecked. The dogs waited eagerly below, their jaws snapping menacingly, one of them was even licking its lips in anticipation of his meal. The raven pecked. Sylvia lost her grip. She fell onto the hounds below. Luckily, she broke her neck on the way down…
Hell Hounds
A raven sat in the tree. The tree was the only thing in this barren, empty landscape. Just one lonely, leafless tree, decaying where it stood; with a big black raven perched in the top branch, ominously observing everything below with its beady little eyes. Underneath the tree sat a pale skinned, blue-eyed girl. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length copper hair, a nervous habit. She shivered, again out of nervous anticipation. It was winter, and it was chilly, but she wore her old college hoody, so she shouldn’t have been cold at all. She was just nervous. She was always nervous. When they were younger, her brother had often teased her, time and time again, that she worried too much. Her hands were clammy and sweaty, her heart beating just a tad too fast, her breath coming just a tad to quick and shallow. She was very uneasy.
The raven cawed and the girl jumped. There was a flutter of feathers and wings, and the bird took off into the sky. The girl, having just experienced the feeling of her heart jumping into her throat, leaned against the tree to steady herself. She took deep, calming breaths. “Calm down Sylvia.” She muttered to herself.
“Hello.” A male voice came from behind her. Sylvia spun around to see Jared. He was, as always, looking quite handsome, with his expensive Italian suit, and his golden hair in fashionable disarray and his ice blue eyes peering into her soul. They were the kind of eyes that pierced right through you, and froze you from the inside out. They were sharp and interrogating, like a hawk’s, the kind of eyes you couldn’t lie to, they saw through any facades. And Jared was the kind of person that if you deceived him, he would punish you, swiftly, neatly and efficiently, but not without taking the time to make sure it was excruciatingly painful on your part.
“So, you called me here?” Jared said, his voice like a chorus of angels. Funny, isn’t it, how that is exactly what he is not? Yes, Jared was a demon. He had no horns, or bat wings, no spiky little tail; he just looked like any human. Funny isn’t it, how people can seem perfectly normal, and yet they are actually from Hell? Funny, isn’t it, how people you know and maybe even love, aren’t really people at all? Funny, isn’t it? Jared thought so. I fact he often had a chuckle about it as he went on pretending to be a human. No one ever knew what he really was.
That is, no one except his business partners. He worked for the devil. Just like humans did their factories or their law firms or their dentist office. He got a paycheck, just like any other job. He even had a regular 9:00-5:00 schedule. But he loved his job very much, and he often found himself working overtime. Tonight he decided to work late. And so when Sylvia called, he had been the one to answer the phone. “Devil’s Deals Inc, how can I help you?” And Sylvia had told him about how much needed her help. She had told him to meet her by the tree. Jared remembered wondering, what tree? But he had realized when he arrived that it was obvious. There was only one tree.
“Yes. I called you here because I need to make a deal with you.” Sylvia spoke, her voice shaky, but still with more conviction than she felt. She continued, “My fiancé, he is very, very ill, and-”
“Let me guess, you want me to make him all better?” Jared rudely interrupted. “How corny. You couldn’t give me anything fun?”
“No, I don’t want you to heal him. He’s in a coma. In his will, I’m his sole beneficiary. And he is very, very rich. So if he dies, I get a lot of money. The thing is, since we aren’t actually married, I don’t have permission to pull the plug, and end his suffering and his heartache. And that b***h mom of his refuses to let him die!" she paused to take a breath. She continued, calmer, "I mean he’s just a vegetable now. His brain is like soup, although it wasn’t much more than that when he was alive either. I want you to kill him. I want you to make his heart stop beating. Then, it will end all his suffering. Also, I’ll get a lot of money.” Sylvia grinned.
“Okay, simple enough. Fun too. Of course you know, in ten years, we will have to come for you.” Jared reminded her.
“I don’t mind. Ten years is very far away.”
“Well of course, you know we have to seal our deal with a kiss.”
“Fine by me.” She leaned in and kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck on the cheek. It was passionate, on the lips. When they were done she told him, “Wow, you’re a great kisser. Nothing like my idiot fiancé.”
“I get a lot of practice in my line of work.” The demon grinned…
Nine Years, Eleven Months, Three Weeks, and Six Days Later
Sylvia woke up, dreading anticipation in the pit of her stomach. She had been that way for the past month. Today was the day. The day her lavish, spoiled lifestyle would end. The day her current husband would become a widower. The day when she would go to Hell. She could already hear the dogs in the distance, the Hell Hounds. She heard their eerie howls, when no one else could. But she didn’t want to die. She loved her life, loved her husband, loved her house, and, more than anything, she loved her money. She didn’t want to go to Hell, to leave this life behind. But deals with a demon, they cannot be broken. Even if she ran, they would find her. She had no choice; she was going to burn in Hell.
She could already feel the flames licking at her feet, like sharp tongues. Was it reality, or was it imagination? Was she going insane? She must have been, that one night. She had said that ten years was a long time. She must have been crazy, for ten years had gone by so fast. Greed and impatience, that would be her death. It wouldn’t be the Hell hounds that killed her, it would be her greed.
Fear crept up on her, an old friend reacquainting itself. It was not nervousness, or dread. It was pure fear. She was going to die. It was inevitable. She said goodbye to everyone, though none of them new it was forever. She even called those who lived far away, even her old friends from high school, just to say hello, though it was not the hello that was important to her, but the goodbye. And finally, she couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to.
Sylvia locked herself in the bathroom. She sunk down to the floor, biting her nails. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times. She heard the howls. They were getting closer. Before long, she heard barking and scrabbling at the door. She heard the hound rake its claws down the white door.
Fear. It filled her. No room for sadness or regret. Just raw, torturous fear. Her inevitable demise loomed over her like a dark cloud on a rainy day. She shut her eyes and rocked back and forth, muttering “O God. O God. O God! O GOD! O GOD! O GOD!” She was never much for prayers, but if there was ever a time for praying, it would be now. She didn’t know any prayers, so she made up her own. Really it was more of a chant. But she didn’t care. It was still something, something to hold onto, to steady her in this terrible storm.
A sudden breeze and fowl odor made her stop muttering and open her eyes. The door was off its hinges and in pieces. And the breeze had been the exhale of a giant black dog.
“O GOD!!!!!!!!” she yelled. She screamed and screamed as the great black beast, almost the size of a bear, lunged for her throat. But she dodged, its teeth barely grazing her neck. She pulled off her high-heeled shoe, and threw it at the wolf-like creature. The mangy mutt yelped in pain and surprise, and stumbled backward. That instant of hesitation was all Sylvia needed. She took her other shoe and used it to break the glass in the small, high window. She leaped up, her fingers scrambling for a hold on the windowsill. She climbed through the window. Normally, she wouldn’t have been able to reach, much less hold herself up. But adrenaline was pumping through her veins.
Once she was out the window, bleeding from the cuts she had received from the broken glass, she ran. The dogs, now there were three, were not far behind. She didn’t know where the other two had come from, but she didn’t have time to wonder. She did the only thing that came to her mind. She ran to the nearby creek. She didn’t know how she knew, but somewhere inside, some hidden instinct, told her she would be safe if she only made it to the other side of the creek.
When she was younger, she had been obsessed with ghosts and demons. And she had probably at some point researched Hell Hounds. That must have been how she knew. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she run. All that mattered was that she escape. She ran, her bare feet bloody from the sharp rocks and hard ground.
She could hear water. It was close. She ran even faster, somehow impossibly doubling her speed. Now only two hounds chased her, she must have lost one. Or perhaps it knew some short cut she had never learned. Perhaps it would come around and head her off. No, she mustn’t think such thoughts. She must focus only on running, on escape. Finally, she reached the creek. She hopped across it.
“Ha! I’m free! What can you do now? Nothing, that’s what!” Sylvia taunted the dogs.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you.” Jared’s voice came from behind her. Jared was a man of business. To him this was just another business transaction. And he wasn’t about to have his business transactions delayed. “Come child, did you honestly think you could get away?” He looked at her with those probing hawk eyes, that ice blue interrogation.
“I-I hoped... Maybe. I suppose it was just wishful thinking.” Sylvia stuttered.
“Foolish little child. Now, this creek, it flows from a pond. The pond comes from underground water. So, my hounds, what beautiful creatures they are, could walk around the pond. The will get you in the end anyway." he grinned with pride, as if the hounds were his sons, "Come now child, it will hurt less if you don’t make them wait. They are very hungry, and while they generally kill you before they eat you, if you make them wait much longer, it won’t trouble them any to leave you alive.”
“No! I don’t want to die!”
“Come child, dear, it won’t hurt, not a bit. One swift bite, and its all over.” He was hugging her now. Though she didn’t know why, she felt comforted in his arms. Comforted in the arms of a demon.
“I’m scared.” She sobbed against his chest.
“There is nothing to fear, my sweet child. Don’t worry. Sshhh. Hush now. Hell’s not actually all that bad. After a while, it comes to feel like home.”
But Sylvia didn’t want to go to Hell. She didn’t want to die. And she certainly didn’t want Hell to feel like home. What was wrong with her, seeking comfort from a demon? What’s wrong with her? Realizing what she was doing, she pulled away from him, as if waking up from a daze. She slapped him and ran. She saw a tree nearby, just low enough to climb, just high enough that the menacing monstrosities couldn’t reach. Unfortunately, it was a pine tree. Its needles cut into her, and despite their sweet resinous scent, they were sharp and painful.
“It doesn’t matter! You can run, you can even hide! They’ll get you in the end! It’s just a matter of delaying your doom! You’ll fall! You’ll lose your grip, you’ll fall asleep, and eventually, you’ll fall off the tree!" the dogs howled, growing closer every second, "And then we’ll have you! We’ll get you in the end! We’ll chase you all over the world! And you’ve kept my precious pets waiting to long! They’re hungry! Very, very hungry! Starving, ravenous even! So they’ll make sure it’s excruciating for you!” Jared shouted, dropping his nice act.
At that instant, a big black bird, a raven, cawed loudly. Sylvia almost slipped, but managed not to fall. She looked down; it was a long way to fall. She saw Jared, moving his hands in a strange way. Then she realized the raven was moving in the same way as his hands. He was controlling the bird! She was done for, she knew it. The raven pecked at her, pecked and pecked. The dogs waited eagerly below, their jaws snapping menacingly, one of them was even licking its lips in anticipation of his meal. The raven pecked. Sylvia lost her grip. She fell onto the hounds below. Luckily, she broke her neck on the way down…
OMG! i liked this story! whee
Jared was my favorite character. (yes, for some reason the "bad guys" are usually my favorite characters)
psychoIogy
Offline
- Quote
- Report Post
- Posted: Sun, 18 Jul 2010 23:26:31 +0000
I have this illness
that i have suffer for so long
and i don't know how
but i got to find away to stay strong
i wish i could get over this real quick
because it's making me go insane
it hurts when people pick
it just causes so much pain
i just wish i could stay strong
it really bothers me
because there is no cure
I'm telling my self not to cry
but, it's so hard to try
there's got to be away to stay strong
as the days go by
i feel worse and worse
so many things have gone wrong
and, it's just so hard to stay strong
I've got to cry
so all the tears go down my face
I realized i don't have the strength
to stay strong.
that i have suffer for so long
and i don't know how
but i got to find away to stay strong
i wish i could get over this real quick
because it's making me go insane
it hurts when people pick
it just causes so much pain
i just wish i could stay strong
it really bothers me
because there is no cure
I'm telling my self not to cry
but, it's so hard to try
there's got to be away to stay strong
as the days go by
i feel worse and worse
so many things have gone wrong
and, it's just so hard to stay strong
I've got to cry
so all the tears go down my face
I realized i don't have the strength
to stay strong.
