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THE RED DRESSES MASTERPOST
Multiple POV. Fantasy. Little things start going wrong in each of their universe's. Cracks are splitting everything apart. Their happily ever afters are gone. They'll have to team up to stop the Red Dresses before it's too late.
-CHAPTER ONE-
-CHAPTER TWO-
-WRITING MASTERPOST-
In A Moment
Coming
Mustn't rush, I've just got to be quick.
She’s on the train.
She never said she was stopping, did she? Oh God, what if she wants to stop?
Take a deep breath.
That’s fine, it’s fine, it’ll be fine. No need for it to be anything but pleasant… I think. Oh God, when was the last I called her? We've spoken three times this week, but I’m pretty sure she was the one that called...
When did I last hoover the flat? Have I got time to do it now? Oh God, have I taken all the vitamins she’s gave?
there are too many special moments all caught up made rough around the edges inescapable but a few seconds completely tangible.
Doors prompt from yeahwrite
The sun fell behind the trees, casting long shadows over the lone structure. He swallowed nervously as he stared at the doors. Its roof was decorated with bones from a long forgotten animal, but the size of the beast was beyond question. The ribs longer than he could spread his arms. His feet were rooted to the worn path, his body refusing to take the necessary steps. The doors swung on their loose hinges, hindered only by the latch holding them together.
How many have you swallowed? He asked in his mind. He was not entirely sure the doors would stay silent. Many young men like him had been sent to be tested here. The few who had returned reported there was only the other side of the valley and nothing more. Those who did not, were never seen again.
He did not know which fate would be worse: Being shunned by his people should he fail, or face the vast terror of this unknown magic.
He forced his feet to move forward. The word creaked from the cooling air, the doors jerked away from him, as far as they were allowed. Each step felt heavier than the last until he reached the awning, his legs felt like lead.
The doors stayed perfectly still, pressed together in the center. He was so close he could touch them, so he did. The wood felt coarse and unpolished, like it would splinter and crack at any moment.
A low, trembling moan sounded all around him. He froze, terror welling up inside him. The ground seemed to sway beneath him. The dark of the night came over him unexpectedly. Swallowing him, leaving him the only thing left in the world. Him… and these doors.
He wanted to turn and flee, made a conscious effort to do so, but found he couldn’t. He only moved forward, taking his shaking hands and undoing the latch. The wind that was pleasant before swirled around him, blowing his hair into his face. It seemed to be pushing him towards the door, but they were still closed. They required one more push.
The moaning roared in his ears, the wind hurt his eyes, his body ached with resistance. He placed his hands on both and shoved with all his might, crashing into what lay beyond.
*a prompt from yeahwrite. took only an hour to make
View from Above
This is something I wrote a few years ago for a contest on Figment.com and a coffee house. For whatever it is, it got 15th place out of about 500, so I feel pretty good about it.
Oh, how I'd like to watch the world burn.
Viewing the city from the top is so boring now. I used to enjoy it: having my food come to me, drinking from the finest and slimmest of necks. Everything I wanted at my finger tips. But now I see them, the humans of Chicago, I feel…
This is not the first time this has happened, I was young and enjoyed the highest of English fancies. I grew tired of all the laughing and dancing. Then I took a man’s heart from his chest, and found something new to listen to. I didn’t stop until I heard every version of a scream humans could make. Then I started at the bottom again, grew until I could not reach any higher, then tore myself down. I recognized the cycle long ago, high class to monster, soft to fierce, human to animal. All the way back in the 1700’s, and when it came to light, I brushed it off, not caring enough to put even an effort into changing. Why should I change what was working for me?
I smirk at the memory, moving for the first time in hours. The last bout of wildness happened in 1902. It was before all these terrifying weapons and magical technologies. I had never cared enough, during those times, to conceal myself from authorities. They are just harder prey, something I relish. I wonder, if I were to do this now, would they be able to harm me? Kill me? How interesting…
The door opens, drawing me away from the window. A young man stands nervously inside, shifting his weight on his feet, he was staring around at the rich interior of the suite, before focusing on me. Nothing that has ever changed, I always feel satisfied when eyes widen at my body. I will never deny that.
I smile, a simple lifting of one corner of my mouth, causing his heart beat to increase, allowing me to get a better bearing of his smell. Mmmm… Strong and pure, no drugs: healthy. Perfect. “Go down the hall and into the last room,” I order, dropping my voice low. He almost runs out of the room, heading where I directed him, like a puppet on jerking strings.
I wonder if that is fear or pleasure? I find myself asking. The thought freezes me. I lost the ability to tell the difference some centuries ago, and again, never cared. It does not matter what makes their hearts beat faster, merely that it does, only that it benefits me. I’ve known that, and still…
I am picturing his travel from his life to here. Probably a college student, by his age. I can see my men dragging him to a vehicle, shoving him in, speeding off. Ralph, my ‘speaker,’ knows what I like, I inform him from day to day. He’ll put a gun to the boy’s head, and tell him how to behave, and if he doesn’t he’ll be thrown out the building and shot. He isn’t told it’s better than the alternative.
There must be something wrong with me today, what am I feeling isn’t part of me, gentle or fierce. Why do I want to comfort that boy? Want to know about him? It can’t be anything he did, he did everything all the others before him, so it must be me.
I make my way across the thick carpet. The lights are dimming with the setting sun, almost completely dark. The room I sent the boy to is lit, and I can hear him puttering around, nervous. Perfectly normal reaction, nothing to distinguish him from the thousands of others.
The door opens silently; he didn’t close it all the way. He is standing in front of the window, pawing at the window, trying desperately to get it open. “I’m afraid I’ve put more thought into this than that,” I say, making him jump and spin around to stare at me.
His clear eyes were wide and dilated, adrenalin thick in the smell of his blood. “W-what do you w-want?” he asks.
One of the two responses: reason it out. Completely normal. Yet I found myself staring at his tensed muscles under middle class cloths, his shifty fearful gaze. His… no. Stay distant. He is food. But still…
“What is your name?” I hear my words, but I don’t allow them out, they come on their own. The boy shrinks into the wall, and it sparks anger. It takes only three steps, less than a second, for me to stand in front of him. His loud intake of breath is cut off by my hand around his throat, lifting him up the glass. His fingers claw at my arm, his trying to get his precious air. I wait until his eyes roll back before setting him back down, supporting him loosely. “Well?”
“Darren,” he gasps. He raises his eyes, looking at me, nodding his head. “Darren.”
I pull him forward, letting him fall against the bed. My anger is flaring. What is causing this? This is out control. I will end this quickly so I can sort through my thoughts in peace. I grab his hair, pulling his neck as far as it could. His pulse is there, flowing quickly through the arteries. I lean down, my teeth, touching his hot skin. Darren takes a shuddering gasp, pressing them closer. Just another five layers of skin and it will be over…
We stay like this for five seconds…
Why don’t I end it?
Ten seconds…
He’s nothing.
Fifteen seconds…
Nothing but blood and a body!
Twenty…
“Please,” he whispers.
…
I throw him away, making him collide with the bedside table. He curls in on himself, expecting me to come at him. He looks pathetic.
I no longer care.
“Get out,” I order, turning away, leaving him in his stench of fear. I can hear him give one last elated sigh before I exit the room.
The hallway is completely dark now, but I walk with perfect ease. Nothing impedes my eyes. I find myself walking back to the same spot I had left, in front of the giant wall of glass. All the pretty little lights start to turn on, man’s way of thinking he can control the dark. A silly notion. As one who lives in the dark, I know it can never be tamed, but let the humans have their safety.
Darren walks slowly down the hall, and pauses at the door. “Thank you,” he breathes.
I spin around, wide eyed, only to look upon an empty room.
I scoff. Deluded human, I didn’t do it for you.
But then who was it for? What is the point now?
I sigh and turn back to the window, staring down at the lights of cars and the shadows of people passing by.
Oh, how I’d like to watch the world burn
So I no longer have to watch it turn
The Girl in the Dark: Chapter 1
Did I dream up the world?
No... How could I dream up something bright like the sun in this darkness? How could I imagine openness in this tiny little cell? Or food and water? All I have is an IV in my left arm. It's the only thing telling me I'm alive.
Maybe I have gone insane; any normal person would. I woke up in this cell, in this darkness. With no warning, no explanation, and no human contact since. At first I screamed, for someone, anyone, to let me out. Then I started to cry, unable to stop until my eyes ran dry. There are no doors, no places to pry open. I want to die. I've tried to remove the IV, but it shocked me every time. The walls and floor are too soft to hurt me. So I'm trapped. Nothing but sleeping and staring at that darkness. Sometimes it seems to go on for infinity, and suddenly, it will contract, racing up so that it's choking me. I sit in this darkness that has taken everything.
Except who I was.
I was Fred. I know it's a boy's name. My real name was Frances, but my favorite characters were Fred and George Weasley. My girlfriend went along with me and took the name George. She was a better fit than I was, with her red hair and her constant smile. I was more subdued about life, and people said it was a perfect match. Her yang to my yin. The truth was that she was the only one who completely understood everything: my life, my actions, me. But it was more than that. She would understand, and then know exactly what the right response was. When I did something, she knew why, and then would help. When I had something to say and people didn't follow my train of thought, she would, and she cleared up their confusion. When I was quiet or sad she knew, and she'd curl up next to me, waiting for me to tell her what was wrong. She'd never ask. I love her. If I forget everything in this dark, she will be the last thing to fade, because she was everywhere.
We were living in Seattle, I was working as a paid intern at a high end newspaper, and George was in the police academy. We shared a hellhole of an apartment, but it was ours, and I would give anything to be back there again. I spent my time writing or reading. Depending on how tired she was after her training, she would grab whatever I had finished and act out the scenes. She always had a gift for acting, and because she understood me so well, she would play all of them exactly how I envisioned. She'd put the emphasis on just the right words, or pause on the right spot, like this was the way she had spoken all her life. It would always make a bad day good, and a good day better. I was never one for reading out loud, I stumbled over words and mumbled when I was uncomfortable. So I just left it to her. Yin and Yang.
There's something happening now. It's faint and growing louder. I hear something. I'm hearing something. My heart soars at the thought of change, a difference, then plummets just as quickly when I recognize the noise. The shrill, harsh sound is what came out of my mouth for the first period of my time here.
Screaming.
His words aren't distinguishable behind these thick walls. I don't know if it's a he, but it sounds like one. Beyond my natural reaction, which was that something bad was happening, I felt grateful for this man. It's proof that there was a world outside these four walls, and despite however long I'd been here, it was still alive.
After so long without any stimulus, my ears become sensitive to the noise rather quick. As time goes on his shrieking turns into violent crying. I wish I could tell him it's no use. I wish I could tell him that no one is going to let him out, tell him anything. Maybe if I did, he would talk to me instead.
I fall asleep to the sound of the man's anguished sobs.
There was a woman who bewitched a monster and two of the seven sins. She smiled bright and taught them how to love and care, though they twisted it to fit their own needs. But most of all, she never asked them for anything beyond what a friend might.
Though, to be fair, she didn’t know what her friends were. But they doted on her. Showered her with gifts and affection, trying desperately to lure her away from Heaven’s grasp. They always failed.
One day, the woman was left behind, the monster and the sins gone for a time to do their jobs, all creatures had duties they had to take care of. She cared for their homes and watered their plants, praying at church each night that they would come home safe. That was how the man took her.
He raped her, even as the woman fought back with nails and teeth, her hands slathered with his blood. But the police did nothing and her mother turned her back on her, calling her liar and jezebel as she slammed the door in her face.
With no where to go, the woman curled onto the couch in the monster’s apartment and wept. And there she stayed until it came home two months later.
The monster was incensed, raging and snarling as it heard her story, but the woman begged it for a favor instead. She asked it to take the baby because they both knew she was dying, and it promised, on one condition. That the woman give the child it’s name before she died.
She died in the hospital, choking out her daughter’s name so the monster could steal it away. It took it’s, her, daughter home and wrapped her in silk before looking for another of it’s kind to slay, so that the child never suffered it’s mother’s fate. So that it might pass the power on to her child.
That’s why, when the President bombed the Yuki-oni of Mount. Fuji to lure out the demon he made a deal with, the Monster agreed to attack the humans.
It watched the streets run red with blood and then took it’s child to the church were the woman had been raped, to hide like a human from the terror outside. It lured the children close with stories of heroes that weren’t always the good guys and villains that saved the world. And then it told the woman’s story, changed and twisted, but ever the same.
And as he spoke the end, one of the sins appeared at it’s side to take it’s daughter, and it faced the priest who had done such a horrible thing.
'Do you know,' It said flashing teeth just a touch too sharp to be human. 'That when you give permission to enter anytime, it's almost, almost, impossible to take away.'
The sin cooed at the woman’s daughter as the monster’s words sunk into their skin.
'After all, with enough human flesh, there isn't a thing in this world that can't pass for human, not if it follows in an Angel's footsteps. Don't you think Leviathan.”
Leviathan, the sin, laughed, ‘I don’t know. Last time I followed an Angel, Uriel tore my wings out, then again, that might have been because it was Lucifer.’
Alec ignored the harsh gasps and rush of children running to their parents, moving across the floor to stand before the priest, ‘You touched something you shouldn’t have, didn’t you?”
"Hurt it and broke it for your own pleasure, but I know. Leviathan and Abaddon know. There isn’t a demon or monster in this world who met Hannah and doesn’t know what you’ve done. You raped her. Didn’t you Gregovich."
'I,' The priest stuttered as all eyes turned to him. 'I would never.'
There was a growl, soft and grating that came from Hannah’s daughter, that stopped him. Alec smiled softly before turning dark eyes, flickering silver, back to the priest.
'You lie.'
'She was so beautiful,' The priest tried.
'You should never have touched her.'
Alec rippled. The air changed until he was gone, replaced by a tall creature with skin stretched taut over it’s limbs and teeth like razors as he devoured the adults.
'When the President realized there was no way out of his deal, Alec was the deciding vote on the council,' Leviathan explained to the children hiding half behind him. 'And he chose to destroy this world for the woman that treated him like he wasn't a monster. Even if he was. The oldest Windigo in the world, cared just a touch too much for a mortal girl.'
It stopped, shrinking, as it reached Hannah’s mother, until Alec stood once more. He shook his head, flicking gore and blood from his face and the torn remnants of his clothing.
'Katherine, oh Katherine.' Alec said calmly. 'You don't get the satisfaction of death yet. I curse you, may you live and all know your crimes. May monsters and demons never touch you and may all you love die at your hands. And when you do die, because you will, may Amon show you how wrathful it can be.'
He turned, taking Hannah's, his, daughter from Leviathan and shepherded the children out the church, promising that he wasn't going to eat them. There were enough monsters in the world to care for the orphans they left behind.
