This is a sprint piece, I wrote it on a 30 minute time restraint. I’m still fairly proud of it.
The violet haze faded from her eyes, black resurfacing and her vision cleared. A strange feeling surged through Jacy’s body as she felt her the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Goosebumps rolled up her arms like a wave. She felt like the darkness stole her breath, giving way to the now red-tinted vision before her. The walls were red, the furniture, even the hand at her feet. Ochre covered the lenses of her eyes as if she was stuck looking through a crappy Instagram filter.
Taking in the metallic air around her, Jacy licked her lips, then her teeth, hands running from her bouncy, voluminous plush of hair down the tight-cut, long band tee and hugging her stomach. So much about the night was a blur of memories and broken sentences, she wasn’t even certain it was all true. It felt good, and that was all she could focus on.
After another strong breath, Jacy dropped to her knees picked the dismembered limb from the floor, intertwining her dark fingers with the pale flesh. The nails were dirty and chewed upon, the skin callous and dry. She laughed, chucking the hand behind her and standing with an affirmative sway in her hips. As she moved to the couch, her three-inch black heels sunk in the soggy carpet.
“Sorry Mama,” she whispered, running her fist over the cold flesh of her mother’s bruised cheek. She dug a finger into the hole in her head and let out a loud huff. “I was a bit too late, but you’ll forgive me. Right, Mama?”
Jacy licked her fingers. The taste was bitter, metallic. Fear and anger was gone from the long dead corpse. It was nothing like the night before. Through charcoal lips, Jacy bore her fangs before the broken wall mirror, wiping the blood from the center. There wasn’t a huge change, but there were changes. Her skin was tighter, clearer and lacking imperfections, her lips were fuller and her eyes were glowing like a cat’s. She never imagined selling your soul could be so worthwhile.
“Have you had your fun,” a voice called from the broken window. Twelve stories high, no normal person could appear in that place.
Jacy turned with a wicked, amused grin. “Far from it. But, this is good enough. Who are you?”
“Are you Chinese?”
“Korean,” the man replied with a shake of his head.
“What kind of a name is Victor for a Korean,” Jacy asked, crossing her arms. Her tongue unconsciously licking her new fangs, eager to feel their point.
“That was before before I drank from the same cup as you, so my original identity is irrelevant. You are no longer the urban upstart from before, either. You are now a minion of devastation.”
“The deal was I get to do what I want, ‘long as it don’t interfere with what He wants, right?”
Victor nodded. “Correct. And right now, you are being called. Can you hear it? That buzzing plum color in your head.”
It was familiar. Tapping at her skull, Jacy laughed. “Is that what that was? Alright then, how do I get where I need to be?”
“Take my hand.” Victor extended a gloved hand her way, coaxing her with his fingers.
Unimpressed, Jacy shrugged her shoulders and deliberately tossed her hips with each step. She slapped her hand into his, her nails biting into the black leather. The buzzing within her began to ring louder, the minute her flesh touched his hand, her whole body vibrated as if she had gotten an unforgivable chill. The violet haze returned, stealing her breath and pulling her inside herself, her stomach flipping and her vision lost in a kaleidoscope of neon colors.
Her trip was abruptly stopped, her heels clacking ontop a polished stone floor. She stumbled, Victor’s arm grabbing hold of her torso and pulling her upright. She still felt dizzy, like coming off a high, but Jacy felt thrilled, her heart beating with an unforgettable pleasure, anticipation of the future growing with each second. Here, within the enclosed walls of an iron and black stone castle, dragon and demonic motifs as far as the eye could see and a fountain that ran with blood, Jacy felt truly alive.
Fantasy obsessed, bunny loving, caffeine fanatic, elf fan who writes, lives, and dreams in her own imagination.