Written for the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt :
(Content warnings: very very brief mention of pedophilia, religious themes but not the central point.)
* * *
“What’s got you so down, demon?”
Noël looked up. The vampire had appeared nearby without a sound. Its tall dark shadow was standing a little off to the side, as if weary to keep a distance between them, but its red eyes glinted in the dark like two merry jewels. It sounded utterly remorseless. Noël would have been tempted to call it the devil, had she not known any better.
“There was no need to do what you did.”
“You might want to be more precise.”
“Father Gabriele was a good man,” Noël heavily said.
The night’s events had ceased stampeding through her, but her insides remained crushed, and she could feel the lingering dread pulling her down in the depths of a great fatigue. Thought she felt a lust for ripping those red glinting eyes and that single-dimpled grin out of that pretty face, it was only a dim echo of a rage dampened by grief, and she did not have the strength to attack the vampire again.
The vampire laughed. “Oh, come now. That priest was as good as his cute little choir boys were untouched.”
“You dare…”
“Yes, I do. Look at yourself! He wouldn’t have been half as kind if you’d looked a few years older. Did you cut your own hair? Did you choose your own clothes? I never would’ve known you were a girl if he hadn’t called you one.”
“He was a good man.”
“He was a human. A weak, snivelling, pathetic human, just like the others. They’re all the same.”
“They are not. Have some faith,” Noël spat at the vampire.
“How amusing that you, a demon, should say this. Did your human friend use to tell you that? They’re big on faith, those priests.”
The vampire’s smug smirk was unbearable. Noël pressed her lips together tightly and turned away. In her head rang the words Father Gabriele had spoken when they’d met face-to-face for the first time.
A demon, you say? Truly? You are the one I’ve been hearing all these nights, the one responsible for the shuffling, the creaking, the misplaced candles and rosaries?
She remembered her own voice, how it had trembled with uncertainty beneath the weight of years and years of painful loneliness when she’d answered: Yes, father.
She remembered how Father Gabriele’s handsome face had clouded over in thought. He hadn’t backed away in fright. He hadn’t narrowed his eyes in anger. Noël had felt that this man was different, and so she had begged him. It had been a desperate cry for help, one that she hadn’t fully expected him to hear and much less to understand. From within that small alcove she’d trapped herself in to repent and pay for her sins, amidst the crosses which burned her skin and the glowing candles which hurt her eyes, Noël had pleaded: Please help me.
The silence that followed lasted only for a heartbeat. A gentle smile had graced Father Gabriele’s lips.
What is your name, child?
Noël.
He’d reached across the space between them to hold her hand in his. Noël’s skin ran hot, but she could tell that his hand had been warmed by the candles of the church.
Though a demon, you have not once harmed me, and you have crossed my path seeking help. I will help you, Noël. Have faith; such is God’s will.
The wind was blowing in the other direction and yet Noël could still smell the blood on the vampire’s hands. The scent mingled with the cold air and the vampire's long wavy hair like ribbons of iron. One of them belonged to her priest. Father Gabriele had died because Noël hadn’t been there to protect him. He’d been a vampire’s meal. The thought that he’d met such a vulgar end was painful to bear.
“You are a monster,” Noël mouthed in the crook of her crossed arms. Her voice filtered through. The sound of it came out neither loud nor quiet, just broken.
The vampire scoffed. “And what are you, then? I saw the look on your face when we slaughtered all those stupid animals. You enjoyed it. Did you feed on it, as well? A demon would enjoy all that chaos, wouldn’t she?”
“Those brutes were a different matter. Father Gabriele did not deserve such a fate. He helped me.”
“He betrayed you. Don’t tell me you’re genuinely sad that I ate him after what he did.”
“I warned you not to.”
“You were gone, and that’s what I was waiting for. Don’t blame me for hunting easy prey. Do you know what’s most amusing in all of this? He wasn’t even that good.”
“What a vile creature you are,” murmured Noël.
The vampire’s tone became sharper. “Hey, demon, I didn’t choose this.”
Noël gazed at the smattering of tiny pinpoints of light across the inky skies. “And yet you choose to indulge in your base instincts.”
“Yes, because that’s the reasonable thing to do for creatures like us.”
“It doesn’t mean that we should.”
“Ugh, a preachy demon. Disgusting. It’s not my problem that you like to suffer, and I’m not about to let you make it one. You can have faith in that.”
Noël frowned, claws digging in her own skin where her hands tightened around her arms.
“Just how devoid of regret can you be?”
There was no answer. Noël looked to her side after a while of silence. The space where the vampire had been standing was empty.
This is the 32nd time joining @flashfictionfridayofficial! Thank you for the interesting prompt! This story is set in the future world where many factions struggle to take control over each other.
Word Count: 785
T/W: description of injuries (not in detail though)
Luan (they/them): a pilot of the Imperial Air Force
Solaris (he/him): a manager of the Imperial Air Force
'I do not make a promise that I’m not sure I can keep.'
That was Luan’s usual phrase. They pitted this phrase without looking back, leaving behind Solaris. Solaris would follow them at the gate of the control tower nonetheless.
'Have a safe flight. Please come back soon.'
Solaris’ whisper never seemed to reach Luan’s ears.
Luan was a stoic pilot - they never hesitated to go on dangerous mission trips. And probably the best pilot among the Imperial squadron, too, as they never failed to complete operations despite what they said. Luan managed to fly over the field full of guns aiming at them, stole strategic information from the rebels, and destroyed the countless weapon warehouses. Wherever they went, fire and ashes followed. Even some comrades of theirs found them intimidating.
‘I can’t understand what Luan thinks.’
‘Luan is such a cold-blooded person. Have you heard what happened to the rebel’s base camp? Nothing left but ashes. They even burned the entire area three times at least!’
‘Luan is going too far. What if they turn against us one day?’
‘We might have made a mistake hiring a person with an uncertain background…’
Those words among the squadron certainly reached the ears of Luan. However, Laun never seemed to care, ignoring them all.
But Solaris did.
Solaris knew that some rumours were exaggerated. Solaris was the only one who knew a face hidden under the long, dark fringe - a face which still had a trace of naiveness of a child. Luan’s jet-black eyes reminded Solaris of bottomless water. Superficially, it looked calm and motionless. Yet, the debris of memories mixed up with emotions bubbling under the still surface. For Luan, the flight was the only way to get away from their pains - the memory of the destruction of their own town, the harsh life on the street, and cold eyes from other people.
Solaris knew all these because they interrogated Luan's memory when they joined the Imperial squadron. Solaris hated this process from the gut, but as a manager of the Imperial air force, he had to eliminate all potential spies. Solaris supported Luan out of guilt at first. However, eventually, he found himself attached to this lone wolf.
It could be like one of those days - Luan would say their signature phrase with usual grumpiness. Solaris would quietly wish for their safe return. And always, it would be granted.
Today would be the last mission for the squadron - they were going to give a final blow to the last fortress of the rebels. The most challenging mission ever. The control tower was filled with intense agitation and excitement. Even Solaris felt electrifying exhilaration and terrifying anxiety, that made his hand tremble. Except for Luan - they kept their calm, gloomy self, moving in and out the control tower like a shadow.
However, the words Luan uttered were different.
‘Have faith in me, Solaris. Don’t make such a doubtful face.’
Solaris was startled by the fact that Luan recognised anxiety in Solaris’ face. He smiled bitterly, and Luan chuckled in return. That was so unusual of them.
‘I’ll be back soon. Promise.’
Solaris lost a word for a while, looking at Luan walking away from him. Suddenly, the urge to reach out for Luan took over Solaris, but it was too late. They slipped away into the burning sky, the great unknown, without looking back.
The room is filled with warm light. It is comforting and tender, like a sunny spot in the forest. Indeed, it is like a forest - blocking all shouts of excitement and intoxicating victory from outside, sheltering Solaris. Alone in the world of silence, Solaris looks at the pilot lying on a simple bed. Their fringe is burnt and curled, exposing some deep, fresh cuts on the right side of the forehead and cheek. It is a mess. It is a nightmare.
‘Is it because I didn’t say that please come back soon?’
Solaris knows that it is absolutely irrational. And he is painfully aware that his words will not reach Luan.
‘You said you will never make a promise that you cannot keep.’
Every single word he utters disappears in heavy silence.
In the moment of serenity, Solaris catches a soft rustle.
Here, Luan opens their undamaged eye.
Slowly, they reach out the injured arm, touching the cheek of dumbfounded Solaris.
‘Luan…’
Their eyes meet. Then…
‘Ouch!!’
It is not Luan but Solaris who shouts in sharp pain.
Luan is pinching his nose with a surprisingly powerful grip.
‘Ha, so you have little faith in me? I keep my word no matter what if I make a promise. Have some faith in me, man.’
