Dark Prince

Ash

I stepped forward toward the beautiful woman. It was hard to see her, for the light radiating off her was too much to bear. I heard footsteps coming from down the hall outside the closed door. But I didn’t care. My attention was only focused on her. She noticed the footsteps echoing ever so slightly, and for a moment, fear sparked her cold, grey eyes. Soon the moment was gone, and her face was once again expressionless.

“What is your name?” I asked.

She looked back at me from the door.

“Why does it matter?”

She sounded so calm, and calm was actually scarier than her yelling.

“For many reasons. Just tell me.”

“Alright, fine. My name is Avilynn.”

She was talking quickly now.

“Remember this moment, prince, for this will not be our last encounter.”

And with that, she disappeared.



“Model your forms.” The art instructor said.

But I didn’t pay attention to her anymore. My mind was elsewhere. I was still reliving that night, when I volunteered at the hospital. The beautiful young woman, with almost-white hair, and glowing skin. Right when she disappeared, I ran out the door and took off. Whoever those footsteps belonged to, I didn’t notice. To be honest, I didn’t care. When I ran out I heard a woman’s voice. And that was it.

I didn’t sleep last night.

That woman gave me the jitters. She both scared and amazed me. Avilynn was her name. But for some reason, it didn’t fit right. I met her once before, long ago. And I knew that wasn’t her real name. Or maybe, I’ve gone crazy and I was really only imaging all this. It is possible.

What I knew for certain though, real or not, I had to see her again. Demand how I know her and why she lied to me.



”So the deal’s done then?”

“Of courssssse.” The woman hissed.

“What now?”

“You got to sssssign thisssss.” The woman pulled out a rolled up tarnished paper.

The man looked at it. Part of his face was shown with little moonlight, so it was very hard to identify him.

“Do you have ink?” The man said.

“Indeed.”

The man moved his body around so he could sign it. And when I saw his face, I gasped. This man was my father. I stared at all his features. They looked the same as I remembered them. I looked to the right where the woman was. She was old and in black. A witch I gritted my teeth. I looked at her closely. And from where I was, she looked very pleased with herself.

I had to look away from the ugly sneer on her face. So instead I looked around the room that they were in. Very small, very dusty, very crowded. There was shelves of books lined one wall, tubes and bottles on a table on the other. There was also a massive fireplace at the back of the room. Definitely witch.

I looked back at my father. His forehead ceased with wrinkles and worry. He reached out for the feather and dipped the tip of it in the ink. He slowly put the feather on the old yellow paper; signing his name on it.

After he signed the last letter of his name, sparks flew around the paper, and the feather disappeared.

“Thank you for your… cooperation.” The witch said.

“What will happen now?” My father said.

“What we agreed to of courssssse, King Sayeton.”

Silence.

“Your ssssson, for my richesssss.”

Her chuckling ended the dream. Fading like the darkness.