"Sit up. Sit up my darling sit up. Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”
There is no response, no movement...nothing.
“SIT UP YOU B**CH SIT UP!”
She moves, slowly, laboriously into an upright seated position. Her arms outstretched behind her hold her weight as she moves her legs out straight in
front of her. Thick iron chains curl around her hands and feet like slithering snakes trapped in quicksand. Her head turns towards me for the first
time, as if she can see through the thick pillowcase. Dark red, wet patches seep through where her eyes would be and more crimson patches appear on
the top. She thrusts her arms into the air. Both chains snap sending their iron links clattering across the floor into the darkness, knocking over one
of the candles that surround her.
“Stop!...Stop it!...STOP IT RIGHT NOW!”
The fear in my trembling voice is obvious. She ignores me and stands up. Then she lifts each knee in turn until the chains snap and scatter once more.
“Stop it! Stop it right now! I’ll send you back...I will.”
She seems stronger this time. But the pentacles will hold, they have to, I did it right this time. I did the incantation perfectly. She comes closer.
She sniffs the air and makes a gurgling sound.
“Go back to the centre and sit down!”
She ignores my command and comes closer still and begins cackling like a witch. Slowly she lifts the bloodied pillow case from her head. I gasp at the
horror. I wasn’t prepared. I thought she would have healed, would have reverted back, would have regenerated. But the deep slashes from my machete
have left her scalp wide open. Hair and blood are matted together with bone and brain. Her eyes are lopsided. Her nose is pressed inwards. She tilts
her head, rips the muzzle from her mouth and smiles wickedly at me, gnashing her blood covered teeth. Through the back of her left eye I can see
candle light reflected on the wall behind her. I dive into those eyes as I have so many times before, but they’re gone....the angels are gone. She
spits at me with blood and snot and brains. I cannot move. I must not move, I cannot run, I must not step outside my pentacle.
Snapping her neck when we were back in the city had been easy. Once I’d caught her in the act, once I’d seen her doing those terrible things I
couldn’t kid myself any longer. And murder became easy. It released years of frustration and tension and stress. I was relieved afterwards...at
first. But then came the emptiness and the anger. She’d gotten away with it again. She’d never have to face up to her actions, never have to
confront her malice, never have to question her evil, never have to face her absence of remorse. She was dead and she’d never have to pay for what
she’d done. It wasn’t fair. She’d made me her lap dog in life and eunuch in death.
Then I missed her.
So yesterday I brought her back. But I’d done something wrong with the summoning and I had to put her down again. Though not before I’d silenced
her by cutting out her tongue. That had always been her sharpest weapon. The feelings aroused in me when I put my machete through her head shocked me.
I felt joy, exhilaration, lust, hunger, and greed. When her head was open I tasted the fruit and it was ambrosia.
However, this morning I missed her once more.
She is now pacing predatorily around the perimeter of her prison, and each candle trembles and withers a little as she passes it. Yesterday the chains
had held so I was able to leap on her with my machete. I won’t be able to do that today.
“I’m sending you back!”
I grab the book and fumble with the leather bindings. As I frantically flip through the pages searching for the right incantation she crouches
opposite me where our pentacles meet. I know I must find the right words in the pages in front of me but I can not help but look up from my lap. She
smiles a crooked smile, opens her mouth, wiggles the stump of her tongue and breathes death over me.
I soil myself.
She rises, turns her back on me and circles around her pentacle stopping at each candle in turn. She sniffs the air at each one, spits at the charcoal
symbols beside them and one by one they flicker and go out. By the time she returns to me I am standing in the middle of my pentacle, protected but
trembling as I grip my machete tight in one hand and hold open the book with the other. I keep repeating in my head the incantation I have found. To
send her back it has to be spoken exactly right.
She goes down on all fours grinning with bloody teeth and a caved in head. She brings one thumb to her lips, licks it and places it on the concrete
where she rubs away the charcoal boundary separating us. The incantation is gone from my head as fear makes a statue out of me. She breathes in
impossibly deeply and the flames from the candles surrounding me lean toward her. The charcoal begins to move and is sucked across the floor in to her
gaping mouth destroying my protection in the process.
edit on 19-2-2013 by merkins because: (no reason given)