Taking Death: Storybook Ending
A while back, I said I would post up the text snippets of the Comic-that-will-never-be. So, here is the first part. The beginning - in which Eury is introduced by proxy and certain secrets are revealed but NOT.
(By the way, the title is still tentative. This is like, the fifth time I've changed it and I'm still not happy.)
Taking Death: Storybook Ending
by Kysra
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved her family very much.
But one day, her life was destroyed when the Bad Men came, dressed in black coats and white masks, to kill her older sister and mother before her five year old eyes. She had been told by her sister to run, run far away; and she had done her sister’s bidding, taking the stairs to her bedroom two at a time then becoming fearful, creeping down again to peek into the sitting room where her sister screamed and writhed beneath the onslaught of fists and knives and kicks and clawing fingers.
It was over in seconds yet stretched into a stark eternity, playing behind her eyes whether asleep or awake for the rest of her short life.
She could not blink between the moment of her sister’s killing blow and the moment of her sister’s body falling to the floor, lifeless. And when a barking, male voice broke through the shock, the little girl knew she had been spotted.
Wheeling about on tiny bare feet, she forced her little body to run, to crawl through the doggy door and flee across the back lawn, into the night-darkened woods, her eyes soaked with tears and her cheeks burned red with fear and cold.
There was a grayish mist dogging her steps, edging along her tunneled vision. It whispered into her ear louder than the wind, more shrill than the yelled orders of the Bad Men lumbering and stomping behind. She could feel the pulsing force of something powerful in the air, and her heart beat in time with the frantic, spilling words of prayer coming from her lips even as flight was postponed when her ankle caught on something hard and grasping; and she fell, rolling into a muck-filled ditch.
That grasping thing still held to her ankle and bloodied foot and began to paw at her back and thighs as she kicked and screamed, struggling to get away from its larger bulk and weight. A hand clamped down on her mouth, a thumb pressing across the bridge of her nose, as a body, large and swathed in the same black as the Bad Men, shielded her even as it crushed her into the mud. Eyes wide and unblinking, the little girl whimpered and bit down on the cold hand silencing her. It was her first taste of blood.
Her father’s blood, she realized when his voice hissed into her ear to ‘be still’ and ‘make no sound.’ Her father . . . dressed in black and wearing a white mask. She trembled - filled with indecision - with the incomprehensible knowledge that her father was a stranger and the instinctual reflex to burrow into him.
The little girl’s hands clutched onto his, feeling the warmth of his blood, flowing between the fingers mutilated by her teeth, cool under her cold skin. The gray mist encroached upon them faster than the Bad Men, seeming to embrace them in their shallow hiding place. It seemed to swirl thickly around her father, and he soon withdrew from her to cower away from the shady tendrils.
He pointed at the girl, trembling and pale, and whispered, “Take her.” His voice cracked and wobbled, “Take her, please.”
The girl did not understand what was happening but the smoke soon became silvery barbs that twirled, catching the moonlight, before launching into her body.
She screamed as she lived and died a million deaths including her own, but the sound never traveled farther than the palm of her father’s hand which had found it’s home once more upon her mouth, the flesh yielding to the sharpness of her teeth, the hot blood seeping between his fingers and down her working chin.
The little girl was five years old and now in possession of a soul that should have never been hers. As punishment, she became a monster, a Hunter - a killer elected by God to dispatch the vilest of the vile.
And as she grew and moved through life taking life, she forgot ‘happily ever after’ and sought ‘the end.’
Obviously, I was in a bit of a dark mood when writing this, but Eury kinda invites that kind of mentality.
- Kysra
(By the way, the title is still tentative. This is like, the fifth time I've changed it and I'm still not happy.)
Taking Death: Storybook Ending
by Kysra
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved her family very much.
But one day, her life was destroyed when the Bad Men came, dressed in black coats and white masks, to kill her older sister and mother before her five year old eyes. She had been told by her sister to run, run far away; and she had done her sister’s bidding, taking the stairs to her bedroom two at a time then becoming fearful, creeping down again to peek into the sitting room where her sister screamed and writhed beneath the onslaught of fists and knives and kicks and clawing fingers.
It was over in seconds yet stretched into a stark eternity, playing behind her eyes whether asleep or awake for the rest of her short life.
She could not blink between the moment of her sister’s killing blow and the moment of her sister’s body falling to the floor, lifeless. And when a barking, male voice broke through the shock, the little girl knew she had been spotted.
Wheeling about on tiny bare feet, she forced her little body to run, to crawl through the doggy door and flee across the back lawn, into the night-darkened woods, her eyes soaked with tears and her cheeks burned red with fear and cold.
There was a grayish mist dogging her steps, edging along her tunneled vision. It whispered into her ear louder than the wind, more shrill than the yelled orders of the Bad Men lumbering and stomping behind. She could feel the pulsing force of something powerful in the air, and her heart beat in time with the frantic, spilling words of prayer coming from her lips even as flight was postponed when her ankle caught on something hard and grasping; and she fell, rolling into a muck-filled ditch.
That grasping thing still held to her ankle and bloodied foot and began to paw at her back and thighs as she kicked and screamed, struggling to get away from its larger bulk and weight. A hand clamped down on her mouth, a thumb pressing across the bridge of her nose, as a body, large and swathed in the same black as the Bad Men, shielded her even as it crushed her into the mud. Eyes wide and unblinking, the little girl whimpered and bit down on the cold hand silencing her. It was her first taste of blood.
Her father’s blood, she realized when his voice hissed into her ear to ‘be still’ and ‘make no sound.’ Her father . . . dressed in black and wearing a white mask. She trembled - filled with indecision - with the incomprehensible knowledge that her father was a stranger and the instinctual reflex to burrow into him.
The little girl’s hands clutched onto his, feeling the warmth of his blood, flowing between the fingers mutilated by her teeth, cool under her cold skin. The gray mist encroached upon them faster than the Bad Men, seeming to embrace them in their shallow hiding place. It seemed to swirl thickly around her father, and he soon withdrew from her to cower away from the shady tendrils.
He pointed at the girl, trembling and pale, and whispered, “Take her.” His voice cracked and wobbled, “Take her, please.”
The girl did not understand what was happening but the smoke soon became silvery barbs that twirled, catching the moonlight, before launching into her body.
She screamed as she lived and died a million deaths including her own, but the sound never traveled farther than the palm of her father’s hand which had found it’s home once more upon her mouth, the flesh yielding to the sharpness of her teeth, the hot blood seeping between his fingers and down her working chin.
The little girl was five years old and now in possession of a soul that should have never been hers. As punishment, she became a monster, a Hunter - a killer elected by God to dispatch the vilest of the vile.
And as she grew and moved through life taking life, she forgot ‘happily ever after’ and sought ‘the end.’
Obviously, I was in a bit of a dark mood when writing this, but Eury kinda invites that kind of mentality.
- Kysra