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by Raven
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Gothic · #1190511
A voice of opinion as to what holds life in its owners hands.
She did not come last night. Her presence lingered on the edge of my consciousness but she did not appear. I felt her glance turn on me many a time, but she did not come any closer than the day before. She may be silent and still at this moment because of other victims. I do not know, for although I am connected with her, she keeps heself secretly locked away from me.

The bridge between us, even now, is growing thinner. She draws nearer, I can feel her. I feel the suction her nostrils make as she breathes in my sould scent and see her as she circles me, closing her hair into a suffocating circle around my being. Its tints of blood red are sharp as eagle eyes. She may be close but her memory is distant, changing as her expression.

Since the beginning I have thought of her as a demon, but she is not. I can tell from the glimpses of her unlocked mind I see. Glimpses of when she was alive. Her brown hair flowing out behind her in all the glory of the earth which she worshiped. The heightened fringe shone green in the glistening sun. Her skin was light against her hair and her eyes twinkled like the stars of heaven. Her body was smooth and mature with an old, brown belt and gleaming, gold buckle. The green fabric round her slender neck and along her armswas as thin as silk and lay tightly on her bones. The emerald running up her body folded out near her neck. The material flowed down her body, wrapping itself around her and withering away gently on her thigh, showing her legs to be long and hairless. The thick, slime green leather of her shoe slithered up to her half-calf. Her wings were of leaves of the earth, four of them, as thin as they were the wind would not break them. Her lips were as pink as the setting sky and her pointed ears, as smooth as the waterfall is graceful. A single plait slid its way across her face and whipped the air in front of her. I names her Leaf, from the flashes I saw, it seemed a suitable name. Later I learned her name to ebr Erevine.


She did not come tonight either. Again she dithered on the edge of my heart's mind, looking for my weakness'. LIstening to the slow, restful thuds of my spirit sleeping. I could hear silence, see her invisible stillness and smell her scent which remained after all this time, of earth and grass, leaving its mark on her after she fled from it. I could feel her hands creeping ever closer to me, greeting me into her disgusted anguish.

She did come this night. She arrived half way through my sleep, slipping past me, crossing her hands over my cheek. I can still feel her nail trickling over my skin, flowing down my neck and shrinking away at its base. I can hear her the scream she let out, of agony and old torture past. She wailed as my pulse throbbed under her finger, printing itself in her mind, turning more hatred over in her afresh.

That was all she did that night , but with that one nail, I knew there would be more. More of her eaten flesh, for on that fateful night, of our first contact, I saw her true form. The emerald silk of her dress rotted to a dead black, festered with all creatures of the underworld. Her skin run over with the blood of sinners she had snatched from this world, decaying as she still sapped up their poison. Her eyes changed with her mysteries, one moment black as her soul, another, as red as the blood she craved. They send chills over my body to remember. Close encounters of hell had loosened her hair, which turned darker with every second. Her cold glare held no mercy and in the way her lips twisted with my every breath, I could see her loathing of me grow like the plants she had once tended.


She did not wait for the night yesterday, appearing at my against the winter evening stars. Along with the wind, she seemed to flinch with ever trees sway. I turned away from her, closing my eyes, wishing and willing for her to leave. She didn't. Even with my eyes closed, I felt her standing behind me, pulling me by the neck to her own level beneath my feet. I began to wonder how far she would take me.
My heart thumped around me into the secret's of the darkness. She pulled away from my back and swerved into my past below. Her hair floated as if in water. I caught a glint of another memory, swaying ahead of her, between us, a protection. She fulled a finger from her belt where it had been placed, and drew upon some of my will, touching the glinting, red mist of her memory. I was sucked in by the feeling and compassion. Of grass and birds, trees and mountains, all the while I felt her itching to interfere, but unable to bring herself to touch love and compassion on her own.
I lloked past her recollection, through her hair, which scratched at my being, starting to pierce my blood. Her eys were blood red, rememberance covered her face, showing signs of disgust at what she had once been. A voice cried out of the scene between us. She recoiled. The voice was herself, what could still have been had she not filled herself so full of hate and loathing. A pure voice. A clear bell in the silence. She lost her control at the one word she had cried, long in the past.

"Erevine!"

She left me for a whole week. Almost nervous at what had been, a first recollection which fuelled her hatred for me more so than when she had first felt me in her dark light. She may have stayed away, but she was always there, dithering on the edge of my mind. There was nothing I could do to get rid of her, she was just there, a part of my life as much as I was. Every now and then she would crouch as if to spring at me with her new loathing power. She would draw back every time she felt me cringe away from her. She left me those few days before she came for me. I already knew she would come for me. I already knew.

My eyes had only been closed for two seconds before I felt her slip into my mind. Delving into my conscious thought, where I could see her, torturing me, and she knew, for she could hear my every thought. I could feel her icy mind connect ed to mine, her hands kneading at my spirit, bringing the blackness to my first thought. I could feel her ebony heart pumping as an ember in unison to my own.

She tried to grab one of the secret's of my heart. I refused, I defied her. I did it without thinking, and in doing so I denied her the disgust she felt when seeing my innermost thoughts. Her hands gripped me harder. Her dying ember heart pulsed into life, spilling its contents through my being. I felt her will erupt into me, enveloping me. I could feel her volcanic lava of blood course through my veins and infect my body like the disease I would die of. She washed through me, welding us together with the hatred she felt for my living, breathing soul. My life was slowly seeping away into her.

Spirit of Air
I call through howl
Spirit of Water
I shout thine true name
Soul of Fire
I ask for forgiveness
One of thine Earth
I plead to be thine child

As my moment of calling came, I shouted these words at her in a clear belled voice, my own spell of passing, and as her eyes, cold, black eyes, burning with malevolence, closed around me, I felt the elements calm my spirit, ease my soul as she sapped away my life fource.

For I was lost. I had become victim to her, the truest reason of death. A message of the devil. She had taken me because I had commited the greatest sin of trust and life. For I had given up.
© Copyright 2006 Raven (darkraven4426 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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