Cirque des Anges
Killings Of A Monster
Isabella reached behind her with outstretched fingers for the rough concrete of a building. She slumped against the wall, fingers to her temples rubbing anxiously to clear the throbbing of blood through her arteries. A blanket of calm descended over her mind and quickly her heart followed suit; the sensation of someone choking off blood supply to her organs and instead substituting it with a foreign poison drained slowly from her body. The flow of blood to her cheeks slowed and stopped and the hot, stuffy feeling of too much blood in her limbs faded away until her vampiric senses had returned and she could feel the thud of the bass from the building half a block away and hear the excited talk of civilians on the streets, hot and enticing with rivers of ruddy blood coursing under their skin.
The predator in her returned, but her desire for flesh was satisfied and it was merely the purring of a contented lioness that emanated from her body. Well done, my raven. Go home, now, there is much to discuss, the joker’s voice sounded in her head, prodding with metaphorically brilliant hands. Isabella stood, grey eyes flashing across the alley to the white-washed faces of her most recent victims, college drinking buddies fallen at the hands of a monster.
One drop…Two…Three drops and suddenly it was raining. Drops caught on Isabella’s eyelashes and soaked through her hair to her scalp, plastering dark brown tendrils to her face and neck. The drops bounced off her solid skin, water on rocks. Mercy turned around ahead of her and disappeared between buildings, started to run back down the alley for the circus. Isabella took longer, meandered between puddles and streetlights. One minute reveling in the clarity of the world, despite the onslaught of rain, and the next damning her very existence. Monster, she hissed to herself. Kill and kill, God what have you become?. She moaned and clenched her fists, teeth ground together. Raven, my dear, a monster is so far from what you’ve become. Be grateful, my child, you’ll soon see, the seductive tones of the joker weeded themselves in her brain
Holding onto his words like life support, Isabella shut her mind off and walked the rest of the way home without hesitation…eager even to see her family. Over the fence, between the maze of tents; find the one with the candle ablaze inside. She ducked beneath the flap, glanced around to find the children and the master all talking in hushed tones. Mercy’s incandescent violet eyes were narrowed slits and Peris’ coal black eyes were alight with unbridled excitement. Everyone looked at her upon her entrance, “Nice of you to join us, Isabella,” Peris said. His voice grated against her ears’ all she wanted was to sleep. Sleep forever; forget about innocent bloodshed and inevitable immortality. Listen…, his voice again, and Isabella blinked to clear her thoughts.
“I’m here now; one of you. Are you happy?” Isabella asked, daring Peris to make a snide remark, wipe that smirk from his face if she could.
“Yes, very,” Peris said, suspicion and regret tangled in his words. He stepped forward into the irregular circle of the candle flickering in it’s dance with the wind; he’d shed his coat and Isabella gasped in shock. The man before her was merely a boy! Boyish pink lips turned down at the corners, curly hair the color of wheat tickling his neck; still the illusion of childish innocence.
He outstretched a hand, held the end of golden chain flashing in the orange glow. The face of a clock dangled at the end, the second hand ticking furiously past; time draining. The chain slipped from Peris’ loose grip and Isabella’s limbs suddenly twitched until she held the delicate antique in her own grasp. The insistent ticking suddenly alighting upon her ears as her stone skin connected with the even colder gold of the clock. “For you; everyone has one,” Peris said, redirecting her attention to him. He did not seem nearly as excited as before, perhaps because Isabella looked disgusted and disappointed with Peris’ apparent lack of charm and manly appearance. “When I go, you’ll still be able to hear me…this is how we’re connected.” He eyed her reaction, abandoned all attempts to charm her.
“Thanks,” Isabella murmured, felt something stir from the joker in her mind. And suddenly it made sense, the chains on the children’s necks; they each had a clock. Isabella flipped over the clock in her hand and read the words engraved on the back. Raven. “Raven?” she asked, grey eyes flashing white and grey again as her gaze lingered on Peris.
“Your new name…we have to change it when you transition from mortal to immortal. As long as you have a new name, others from your past life will not recognize you…and you them. We may still call you Isabella, if you’d like, in our family, but past the five us of us, along with my other children, people must call you Raven. It would be wiser, of course, to not associate with mortals enough so that they should ask for your name, but if you so happen to need a name…Raven.” Peris explained, sadness starting to overcome the boyish innocence in his gaze. I will need a new way to make her mine, he thought.
“Raven is fine,” Isabella said curtly and turned to leave the tent. She gripped the clock tightly as she weaved among potholes and puddles whose surfaces were still riddled with the waves from raindrops like bombs. Rain streaked the lenses of the sunglasses now settled on the bridge of her nose over her eyes. She found a picnic table in the field of artificial light of a streetlamp and sat down, lifted the clock to her mouth and kissed it. She slipped the chain over her head and held the clock clasped between white palms. God, a puzzle I can’t solve; a life I don’t want. Take it all away, I want to go back. Death would be easier than this torture of an eternal life. Isabella thought and squeezed harder on the clock face than intended. She dropped it so it thudded dully on the bones of her chest, right above her heart.
Behind darkly tinted sunglasses and from behind closed eyelids, in the empty yellow light of a lamppost and sitting on a wet, wooden picnic table, tears issued from her clear eyes. Hot pinpricks behind her eyes, overflowing down cold, hard cheeks of marbled stone. Fast and furious they followed the same path down her chin and down her neck, caught and absorbed by the collar of her shirt. Skeletal fingers rubbed her forehead. Tough her skin, but fragile the tears that traveled down it.
My raven, use your wings; you can fly now. Savor every moment, soon memories may be all you have.
---
[A/N: name change....why? cause I can]
The predator in her returned, but her desire for flesh was satisfied and it was merely the purring of a contented lioness that emanated from her body. Well done, my raven. Go home, now, there is much to discuss, the joker’s voice sounded in her head, prodding with metaphorically brilliant hands. Isabella stood, grey eyes flashing across the alley to the white-washed faces of her most recent victims, college drinking buddies fallen at the hands of a monster.
One drop…Two…Three drops and suddenly it was raining. Drops caught on Isabella’s eyelashes and soaked through her hair to her scalp, plastering dark brown tendrils to her face and neck. The drops bounced off her solid skin, water on rocks. Mercy turned around ahead of her and disappeared between buildings, started to run back down the alley for the circus. Isabella took longer, meandered between puddles and streetlights. One minute reveling in the clarity of the world, despite the onslaught of rain, and the next damning her very existence. Monster, she hissed to herself. Kill and kill, God what have you become?. She moaned and clenched her fists, teeth ground together. Raven, my dear, a monster is so far from what you’ve become. Be grateful, my child, you’ll soon see, the seductive tones of the joker weeded themselves in her brain
Holding onto his words like life support, Isabella shut her mind off and walked the rest of the way home without hesitation…eager even to see her family. Over the fence, between the maze of tents; find the one with the candle ablaze inside. She ducked beneath the flap, glanced around to find the children and the master all talking in hushed tones. Mercy’s incandescent violet eyes were narrowed slits and Peris’ coal black eyes were alight with unbridled excitement. Everyone looked at her upon her entrance, “Nice of you to join us, Isabella,” Peris said. His voice grated against her ears’ all she wanted was to sleep. Sleep forever; forget about innocent bloodshed and inevitable immortality. Listen…, his voice again, and Isabella blinked to clear her thoughts.
“I’m here now; one of you. Are you happy?” Isabella asked, daring Peris to make a snide remark, wipe that smirk from his face if she could.
“Yes, very,” Peris said, suspicion and regret tangled in his words. He stepped forward into the irregular circle of the candle flickering in it’s dance with the wind; he’d shed his coat and Isabella gasped in shock. The man before her was merely a boy! Boyish pink lips turned down at the corners, curly hair the color of wheat tickling his neck; still the illusion of childish innocence.
He outstretched a hand, held the end of golden chain flashing in the orange glow. The face of a clock dangled at the end, the second hand ticking furiously past; time draining. The chain slipped from Peris’ loose grip and Isabella’s limbs suddenly twitched until she held the delicate antique in her own grasp. The insistent ticking suddenly alighting upon her ears as her stone skin connected with the even colder gold of the clock. “For you; everyone has one,” Peris said, redirecting her attention to him. He did not seem nearly as excited as before, perhaps because Isabella looked disgusted and disappointed with Peris’ apparent lack of charm and manly appearance. “When I go, you’ll still be able to hear me…this is how we’re connected.” He eyed her reaction, abandoned all attempts to charm her.
“Thanks,” Isabella murmured, felt something stir from the joker in her mind. And suddenly it made sense, the chains on the children’s necks; they each had a clock. Isabella flipped over the clock in her hand and read the words engraved on the back. Raven. “Raven?” she asked, grey eyes flashing white and grey again as her gaze lingered on Peris.
“Your new name…we have to change it when you transition from mortal to immortal. As long as you have a new name, others from your past life will not recognize you…and you them. We may still call you Isabella, if you’d like, in our family, but past the five us of us, along with my other children, people must call you Raven. It would be wiser, of course, to not associate with mortals enough so that they should ask for your name, but if you so happen to need a name…Raven.” Peris explained, sadness starting to overcome the boyish innocence in his gaze. I will need a new way to make her mine, he thought.
“Raven is fine,” Isabella said curtly and turned to leave the tent. She gripped the clock tightly as she weaved among potholes and puddles whose surfaces were still riddled with the waves from raindrops like bombs. Rain streaked the lenses of the sunglasses now settled on the bridge of her nose over her eyes. She found a picnic table in the field of artificial light of a streetlamp and sat down, lifted the clock to her mouth and kissed it. She slipped the chain over her head and held the clock clasped between white palms. God, a puzzle I can’t solve; a life I don’t want. Take it all away, I want to go back. Death would be easier than this torture of an eternal life. Isabella thought and squeezed harder on the clock face than intended. She dropped it so it thudded dully on the bones of her chest, right above her heart.
Behind darkly tinted sunglasses and from behind closed eyelids, in the empty yellow light of a lamppost and sitting on a wet, wooden picnic table, tears issued from her clear eyes. Hot pinpricks behind her eyes, overflowing down cold, hard cheeks of marbled stone. Fast and furious they followed the same path down her chin and down her neck, caught and absorbed by the collar of her shirt. Skeletal fingers rubbed her forehead. Tough her skin, but fragile the tears that traveled down it.
My raven, use your wings; you can fly now. Savor every moment, soon memories may be all you have.
---
[A/N: name change....why? cause I can]