A collaborative work with Antorin, chapter one is posted on her page.

Blair watched the figure and swallowed hard. Of course she would doom herself trying to prove a point. She stood up and began to pace, needing something to do while she thought. She kept glancing at the figure and soon she began to talk to herself. He watched her idly, he’d seen all sorts of reactions in his time, and this was one that was slightly more common. After all not everyone took these things seriously, and with only a little pushing they fell right into the traps of demons, ones that they could easily have avoided had they thought everything threw like they should have. And so he only smiled as she continued to pace, back and forth, back and forth. Her voice seemed to be filled with the slight madness of one faced with death, Stage one-denial.

                “What have I done? I might as well have committed suicide. This is great. Just perfect. It’s not like I had anything going for me anyways. He might as well kill me now unless there is possibly something I could do to make him not kill me.”  As he listened it was almost as if she’d already started into the second stage-anger. This was more rare, it generally took some days or weeks before stages were traverse, but it was rather amusing to see her progressing quickly, it was more fun that way, emotional people were so boring after all. He got tired of standing there, watching her, and so he went to her window, sitting on the sill, his mere presence enough to make the curtains waft slightly as if in a breeze.

                Blair paced and tapped her pointer finger against her lips. She paused as she finished speaking and then sat down abruptly. His eyes narrowed as she sat, was she truly this close to breaking? She was fidgeting so much, not that he expected less, but more that he’d expected more hostility, not contemplation.  Maybe she could convince this…whatever it was to spare her life. But what did she honestly have to live for?

                She didn’t have a lot of friends, no boyfriend, parents that didn’t really care, and no plans for the future. What did she have but to wait for death? He was reading her thoughts as she sat there now, he generally didn’t bother, but this girl was odd, she tapped her finger against her lip again and then look up at the figure. He looked back as kindly as he could, but in his mind there was the whirring of thought, she was going to be a lot of fun, he could already tell.

                “Well? What do you think of all this? Is there a way I can save myself?” Her voice was like a bell chime, she’d already hit stage 3-bargaining. What an amazing individual! He could already feel his excitement growing; her soul would be a fantastic toy no doubt! After all the rest were all pastel to him, but hers, hers had to be more vibrant if she were so different! At least that’s what he thought. He shook his head in mock sadness-he felt nothing for his victims-before responding, eyes sullen and voice like that of one at a funeral.

                “You cannot, you have signed into a contract with me, there is no getting out of it even in death, I own your soul.” He spoke slowly, trying to make her understand as best he could, another thing he’d done for so many over the centuries. But he smiled slightly to her before continuing. “But now you can have what you want, I can be what you please, I will adhere to your wishes. I am your servant mistress for the next 28 days.” He bowed his head slightly, looking back to her with piercing eyes, not able to wait for her response. He’d given people money, fame, lovers, everything the human heart desires, what would she want? This girl who was so quickly ascending the ladder of death as if it were nothing.

Liked it
Leave a Comment
comments powered by Disqus

Hi there!

Hello! Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!

Find the Spot