Snakes of Sorrow
The Hands of Death
Heriot was in deep sleep again.
You can’t blame her. Existed, what else would a person have to do? No pity was held to her then, but I’m glad you’re starting to see.
She was having a dream, one no one would remember in the morning, you should know. Heriot sat in the corner curled in a plastic chair watching her self sleep from across the bedroom. Here the mild girl felt as mild as ever, and just slightly cold as she stayed there in her bare skin. She was not crazy nor bleeding, and her sleep was not yet completely corrupted. She felt herself slipping away, but she could do nothing but summon random objects in to her own dream. A baseball hit the ground, a kitten came running in. Everything was with no sound. A paper popped onto Heriot’s lap. She fiddled with the edges.
Let me tell you what we want
Dear self of mine
I’ll tell you what I need
If you say we’ll be fine.
I need to call forth
The end of the line
I needn’t your words
Yes, we will be fine.
Heriot looked down at the paper in her lap. Did I write that? She thought. She noticed then a pencil in her hand. The first sound in her dream came, a screeching of a window pushed open. A breeze rushed in causing the thin curtains to ripple. The wind stole the paper from Heriot and flew out. The window slammed shut again. Heriot waited for minutes circled in a chair and finally drew a breath of relief. Just an odd dream, she told herself.
“You summoned me,” a voice spoke. Heriot jumped and snapped her head toward the noise. In the corner was the man in the jar from the other night. His skin did not have a glow but still naturally shined with his inhuman albino skin and colorless lips. His pale blue eyes shined with a sickening knowledge and his white-blond hair pushed beautifully simply on part of his forehead in an adorable cow lick yet on such a dangerous and feline face. Heriot remained silent.
“It’s your soul who calls me if not even by your will,” he carried on. His voice flowed like water and sounded as a whisper without the harsh slurs. “Dear Poison has helped form that to be.”
“Leave me,” Heriot choked. Her fingers trembled. She clutched the side of the chair arms for support.
“Now, now Heriot. You know you don’t want that.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled. His eyes were cold. He glided himself across the floor to the sleeping Heriot. He skimmed his finger along her cheek and the girl in the chair held a gasp when she felt the man’s finger glide her own awake face.
“Stop touching her!” Heriot demanded. Her voice was shaking and her attempt at power was failing.
“It is not her I am touching,” he whispered. “But a body she is. But you, dear Heriot. You are the soul. The sane one. There is no denying you are want I want.” He turned back to face the trembling girl and examined her.
“Who are you? What do you want?” The girl cringed when he neared.
“It is best you do not know. You’re a disease, Heriot. We’ve known that for years now. Unlovable to most, attracting to some though.”
“We?” Heriot lifted a brow where it quivered.
“The woman who bit you, Poison. A good name I think. She marks humans, but mostly takes the men. I however, just wait in a jar until I see a meal worth my time. I am energy for sweet Poison for she does most of the work and feeding. I am not as cheap as her. I cheat her many times, but she also does. It’s been many weeks sense I’ve kept a soul for myself. For her it’s been minutes. A deal we’ve made. I get the prize.” He walked over to Heriot and her breath quickened. “But you have had warning signs. Remember anything odd? Yes, exactly.”
“I don’t get it,” she whispered. “I have no idea what you mean.” The man smiled again. His face showed lasting youth, but he was much older. The power of him was overwhelming. He took Heriot in his arms and smashed her on the ground. Heriot hit a corner of the wall and blood spilled onto her forehead.
“I’m going to kill you, Heriot,” he spoke in a hushed voice. The girl on the floor gave jerks and spasms from pain and coldness that circled every inch of her body. For a moment the man ignored her and stalked to the sleeping body on the bed. He picked her up and summoned a rope into the dream. Tying one end around her neck he looped the other on a large fan hanging from the ceiling. The body gave a jolt when the man let go to let the body hang in the air. Suddenly Heriot felt pressure on her neck and the trickle of blood that came from her by the rope that cut into the sleeping girl’s body. Wheezing noises came from her chest.
“Help,” she choked out. The man walked and all the shadows from the room flew to him, clinging as a cloak, coloring his hair, his eyes, his mouth yet not his stone skin. He was forcing her into suicide, because no one would care, because no one ever speaks of loners.
The man kneeled next to the dying girl and lifted her face, showing her how death seemed so lovely until it is in your hand.
“I am Death of sorrow, sweet child. No one cheats me.” He pressed his lips to hers and drew out slowly, inhaling. Heriot exhaled her final breath as she faded just as the boy had done not too long ago. In the back of her mind, almost silly, she thought of what color Poison must be at the edge of death. Somehow she was glad Death was taking her.
You can’t blame her. Existed, what else would a person have to do? No pity was held to her then, but I’m glad you’re starting to see.
She was having a dream, one no one would remember in the morning, you should know. Heriot sat in the corner curled in a plastic chair watching her self sleep from across the bedroom. Here the mild girl felt as mild as ever, and just slightly cold as she stayed there in her bare skin. She was not crazy nor bleeding, and her sleep was not yet completely corrupted. She felt herself slipping away, but she could do nothing but summon random objects in to her own dream. A baseball hit the ground, a kitten came running in. Everything was with no sound. A paper popped onto Heriot’s lap. She fiddled with the edges.
Let me tell you what we want
Dear self of mine
I’ll tell you what I need
If you say we’ll be fine.
I need to call forth
The end of the line
I needn’t your words
Yes, we will be fine.
Heriot looked down at the paper in her lap. Did I write that? She thought. She noticed then a pencil in her hand. The first sound in her dream came, a screeching of a window pushed open. A breeze rushed in causing the thin curtains to ripple. The wind stole the paper from Heriot and flew out. The window slammed shut again. Heriot waited for minutes circled in a chair and finally drew a breath of relief. Just an odd dream, she told herself.
“You summoned me,” a voice spoke. Heriot jumped and snapped her head toward the noise. In the corner was the man in the jar from the other night. His skin did not have a glow but still naturally shined with his inhuman albino skin and colorless lips. His pale blue eyes shined with a sickening knowledge and his white-blond hair pushed beautifully simply on part of his forehead in an adorable cow lick yet on such a dangerous and feline face. Heriot remained silent.
“It’s your soul who calls me if not even by your will,” he carried on. His voice flowed like water and sounded as a whisper without the harsh slurs. “Dear Poison has helped form that to be.”
“Leave me,” Heriot choked. Her fingers trembled. She clutched the side of the chair arms for support.
“Now, now Heriot. You know you don’t want that.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled. His eyes were cold. He glided himself across the floor to the sleeping Heriot. He skimmed his finger along her cheek and the girl in the chair held a gasp when she felt the man’s finger glide her own awake face.
“Stop touching her!” Heriot demanded. Her voice was shaking and her attempt at power was failing.
“It is not her I am touching,” he whispered. “But a body she is. But you, dear Heriot. You are the soul. The sane one. There is no denying you are want I want.” He turned back to face the trembling girl and examined her.
“Who are you? What do you want?” The girl cringed when he neared.
“It is best you do not know. You’re a disease, Heriot. We’ve known that for years now. Unlovable to most, attracting to some though.”
“We?” Heriot lifted a brow where it quivered.
“The woman who bit you, Poison. A good name I think. She marks humans, but mostly takes the men. I however, just wait in a jar until I see a meal worth my time. I am energy for sweet Poison for she does most of the work and feeding. I am not as cheap as her. I cheat her many times, but she also does. It’s been many weeks sense I’ve kept a soul for myself. For her it’s been minutes. A deal we’ve made. I get the prize.” He walked over to Heriot and her breath quickened. “But you have had warning signs. Remember anything odd? Yes, exactly.”
“I don’t get it,” she whispered. “I have no idea what you mean.” The man smiled again. His face showed lasting youth, but he was much older. The power of him was overwhelming. He took Heriot in his arms and smashed her on the ground. Heriot hit a corner of the wall and blood spilled onto her forehead.
“I’m going to kill you, Heriot,” he spoke in a hushed voice. The girl on the floor gave jerks and spasms from pain and coldness that circled every inch of her body. For a moment the man ignored her and stalked to the sleeping body on the bed. He picked her up and summoned a rope into the dream. Tying one end around her neck he looped the other on a large fan hanging from the ceiling. The body gave a jolt when the man let go to let the body hang in the air. Suddenly Heriot felt pressure on her neck and the trickle of blood that came from her by the rope that cut into the sleeping girl’s body. Wheezing noises came from her chest.
“Help,” she choked out. The man walked and all the shadows from the room flew to him, clinging as a cloak, coloring his hair, his eyes, his mouth yet not his stone skin. He was forcing her into suicide, because no one would care, because no one ever speaks of loners.
The man kneeled next to the dying girl and lifted her face, showing her how death seemed so lovely until it is in your hand.
“I am Death of sorrow, sweet child. No one cheats me.” He pressed his lips to hers and drew out slowly, inhaling. Heriot exhaled her final breath as she faded just as the boy had done not too long ago. In the back of her mind, almost silly, she thought of what color Poison must be at the edge of death. Somehow she was glad Death was taking her.