In Light Of The Moon

(c)Mireyah Wolfe 2008-2012

The silver glimmered in the faint light that the moon granted through the curtains of my room. I twisted it in my hands, casting the reflective light over the dark walls. My stomach twisted with each flash, my heart pumping harder when I brought the blade up to eye-level. The edge was sharp, I knew that very well. The handle fit my hand perfectly, as though made for my hand. The cherry wood was smooth under my fingers, a texture I’d missed like an old friend.

My lips parted, my lungs trying to get more air.

I knew I shouldn’t have the knife. I knew that what I wanted to do would hurt me more than I intended, but I needed it. They would find it and take it from me, lock me in that white hellhole again.

It would be worth it for this release.

I put the blade to the inside of my thigh, the cool steel icy against the nervous heat of my skin. Before I chickened out, my hand jerked back, slicing the skin. The pain—that sharp hissing pain—had me sighing in relief.

A tiny voice in the back of my head said, just like riding a bicycle.

I watched the black drop of blood spill from the cut and down my leg. I wiped the liquid from my thigh and wiped it on my shorts. I grabbed the bit of tissue I’d gathered before and pressed it hard against the cut. The pain increased just a little bit. A shuddering breath slipped from my lips.

I stretched out on my bed, legs hanging off the edge. It had been so long since I’d cut that I had almost forgotten how good the pain felt. I glanced over at the bedside table, my mother’s picture smiling at me.
Guilt pierced me sharper than the knife ever could. Even dead almost three years, she could still make me feel like I was worth less than a gum wrapper…good only for throwing away.

I stared at the wall, ignoring the tear that slipped down my cheek.

Heart In The Ground

My world has ended.

 My world is the sound of heads hitting the business end of a bullet. It is the taste of metal and pine and gunpowder. It is the scent of fresh dug graves and white lilies.

It is tears quietly stifled under the covers of a young child’s bed.

It is a yellow envelope in my mail box, the letter within beginning with “We regret to inform you...”

It is a gray desert, slivers of moonlight highlighting the black liquid seeping into the sand from a skull cracked open like a ripe coconut.

My world was once light and happiness...I had a family. My love overwhelming at times, and returned with twice the intensity. My body had created the most beautiful works of art, their smiles brighter than the sun, their tears tearing the very heart of me to shreds.

The scent of this place stabs at me with the violence of every horror movie I’d ever refused to watch. I don’t know if I can make it through the ceremony. The colors and the stars that I had sacrificed so much for now fill me with nausea. I cannot look at the intricately folded cloth as the uniformed gentleman places it in my arms. Against my will, I hug it to my chest as if it were the body laying in the ground.

They could whisper all the condolences they wanted. It wouldn’t bring him back.

The shots pierce through the sky as the soldiers signal their respect for my heart, already decaying and eaten through with worms like a rotten apple too long left to the side.

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Stupid

The white ranch style house sat on a good sixteen acres, the iron-wrought fence and gate guarded by two very large, very initimidating juju-permeated Foo Dogs. I stared up at the male, his fierce eyes staring down at me as if daring me to lay my hand upon his paw. I glanced over at the female, my skin crawling with the magic that lay within the granite statues. This place pulsed with energy, each blade of grass whispering of the man who owned it and painted the land with his magic.

 I brushed a finger over the World under the Dog’s paw, coming away with a vibrant blue bit of energy that sank into my skin with a low growl that echoed within my mind. Such a fierce guardian, full of power and a deep need to protect what was his. I approached the female and ran the same finger between the eyes of the cub she held beneath her, and absorbed the red magic that drummed through the stone. For all that the male was a strong, ferocious being, she was something that made my spine tingled in fear from. Goddess help anyone who pissed her off. 


“Well?” my companion, Derek Cordell, poked the male in the chest. 

“You have a death wish, my friend. And for the love of living beyond the age of twenty five, please remove yourself from killing distance from the guardian. I swear, you normies are such dumbasses. You can’t recognize something quite literally dripping with some serious juju? And you want to try and kill the man it guards.” I shook my head. “You can’t do it, Cordell. You may as well forget it.” 


“I can’t, Lily. He hurt her. He really hurt her. I can’t let that go.” 


“I understand that—better than you know, my friend—but you can’t touch him. Trust me on this. Your head would be gone before you could step past the gate. These two right here aren’t just decoration. They are true Foo Dogs, and they don’t play. They will kill you and lick the blood from their paws. And even I won’t try to stop them.” 


If I’d thought that the fact that I wouldn’t step up to the Dogs would convince the man to abandon his plan, I was sorely disappointed by the sheer stubbornness that hardened his eyes. 


“If it were Arisheal in there, hiding behind some magic statues, would you let it stop you?”


 I should’ve expected the question but it still hit me right where my scars lay beneath my clothes. I wasn’t sure what my honest answer should be. My sense of self-preservation is a very strong thing, but I get my taste for revenge from my father. The Prince of Lies and King of Hell likes to serve a few cold dishes to those who wrong him. 


“I don’t know, Cordell. I really don’t. I’d like to think I would find some forgiveness in my heart, some tiny bit of my grandfather in me, but there is quite a bit of daddy dearest in me. But I’m not human, not mortal, and I, unlike you, am vulnerable to very few items. A stray splinter could kill you.” 

“When has that ever stopped me?” the charming smile that led me to this place flashed. 


“It’s not as simple as that, Cordell. The man in that house is protected by things that would give you nightmares. Nightmares that would actually kill you. Dude, you just can’t win this.” I clapped my hand on his shoulder. "Let it go. Let the Gods and Karma sort it out--it all comes out at the end of all things, I promise you this. Your sister will be avenged. But you will not be the one to hold a knife in that man's heart." 


His eyes darkened. His lips firmed into a thin line. 


“I’m sorry. I won’t help you with this. I won’t stop you, if you truly wish to move with this suicide mission—leaving your sister alone in her pain, by the way—but I will not aid you. And believe me, if I won’t , nobody else will either." 


 “Wow, egotistical much?”

“It’s not ego when it’s truth, Derek.” I stared into his eyes. “If the Devil’s daughter won’t touch this man for fear of his minions, then nobody else will dare.”


"Fine, if you truly won't help me, then I'll do it by myself. Screw you, Lily." 


He stomped away to the car, driving off and leaving me stranded outside of a demon possessed warlock's gate. 

I waited a few moments before I pushed the button for the intercom. 


"Yes?" 


"Let me in, Davieyn." I growled. 


The gates swung open. The Female Foo Dog's head turned to stare at me. A low snarl reached my ears. I allowed the darkness inside me flare in my eyes, black shadows filling them and the air around my skin. I bared my teeth and she settled. 


I walked into the house as if I owned it--which, as the Boss's daughter, I may as well have--and headed straight for the study.

Abigor stood beside the door, his head bowed and eyes on the floor. Davieyn, on the other hand, reclined on the luxurious chair behind the cherry wood desk he'd stolen from a duke many, many years ago. His feet rested on it, his arms behind his head.

"Lilitha! What a pleasure, darling. What brings you by?" He grinned through another man's teeth.

"Get out here, now, Davie." I put every ounce of my power behind the order, and his meatsuit immediately began coughing up demon-spew.

It took a full five minutes (yes, I counted each minute.) for my brother to stand before me in his true form, his victim lying on the floor behind him.

"Damn it, Lil, you know I hate it when you do that."

"Yes I do. And I know that you are aware of the rules of residing in my city. Yet you deliberately and maliciously broke them. If that weren't bad enough, you did it on someone I care about. I probably could've let your willfullness slide by if it were some random whore on the street, but it was a friend."

His eyes widened, a hand rising to his chest. "Moi? I have broken none of your rules, dear sister mine. I've been quite the paragon of quiet virtue. Tell her, Abigor! I've been the epitome of a boring sort of bloke, haven't I?"

I swung my head to the side, looking at Abigor under my lashes. "Well?"

"Uh. Yes, of course, m'lord." Abigor paled and his eyes darted away from mine.

Right. Because telling on the Anti-Christ's bad behavior to his big (and much scarier, fyi) sister is always a good idea.

I looked back at my brother and his snide little grin, and I felt the strongest urge to just smack the shit out of him. But my self-control has always been better than his, and so I only slapped him across the cheek.

"If you ever break my rules again, Davie-boy, I will hurt you worse than you could begin to dream of. I will send you back to Daddy Dearest, and you will regret your actions. Believe me when I tell you that I will know if you do so, and my rage will be swift and painful."

With that, I walked out with my brother on the ground and his servant with a smile on his face.

No Hope In Hell

I hung suspended from chains that created bloody rings around my wrists as I twisted in pain. She giggled, and dug the nails a little deeper into my flesh.

“Enjoying it, my dear?”

“Like an acid enema,” I rasped. Her eyes brightened.

“Now, that sounds like fun!” She grinned and waltzed away, her thin veneer of sanity slipping away with each drop of my blood that she spilled. She danced around the dank room, her hips swaying to the music in her head. Her fingers tunneled into her hair and her shoulders shimmied. The nails embedded in my shoulders and stomach shifted, bringing a gasp hovering to my lips.

“When he discovers what you’re doing, he’s going to kill you.” I reminded her. The smile on her faded, replaced with sorrow.

“I know.” She met my eyes. “I’ll admit, Lil, I wish it hadn’t come to this. I like you, y’know. You were always so nice to me. You listened to my stories about the good old days before that limp-dicked father of yours decided to play nice. If he’d just done as I asked so long ago…we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Why are we here?” I asked, breathless with the pain. She reached a hand up to cup my cheek, her thumb rubbing over my lips.

“Because he wouldn’t kill me when I begged him to.” 

Monsters

monsters


"Did you fall asleep?"

"No."

"Were you waiting for the monsters to come?"

"No."

"But, did they?"

"No."

"Then, why - why, my dear, were you in the forbidden room?"

Silent. I remain silent.

"Answer me."

"Forbiddance," I say. "I performed a forbidden deed in the forbidden room."

He smiles. "So now we're being smart?"

"No. Now we are honest."

His eyes narrow, yellow slits in the dark. "How did you get in?"

"The door was open."

"You expect me to believe the door was open for you to simply waltz in?" he sneers.

"Not waltz, walk."

He pushes from his chair, his fingers around my neck.

I do not flinch.

"What did you do?"

"I stood."

The forbidden room. The room with the bed and the nightstand - the room where the monsters lived when I first walked. Fifteen years of running away from dreams threaded with darkness, and I went back.

I am no longer afraid.

Because he is the monster and they are the light.

Savage The Night

**I was reading We're All Mad Here and got the idea for this story. It's kind of along similar lines. Not the same characters, but very similar in overall storyline. I dunno how to explain it. But I warn you now: It's not pretty.**

The night calls – the night and the moon and the darkness filled with the rushing flow of blood from torn flesh howls for my return to the hunt – but she refuse to release me. Why? I am needed. The night needs me. It is lonely and quiet.

            My sisters scream for me, their hunt unsatisfying without me. I am meant to lead them through the night…and yet, here I lie in wait…caged and domesticated.

            I will return to you, my sisters. Our hunt will rage through this world and our bodies will bathe in their remains. I swear upon the hunts of our mothers…I’m coming back.

~*~

I tear at my flesh, trying to rip the evil from my skeleton – if only I could reach the bones beneath. It burns my body, screaming and raging for release. I must not do these things it cries for. I must not look upon the people around me as food – raw steak, walking around as if to tease me into pouncing. I must not dream of pouring goblets of too-rich, too-red wine over my chest, licking the sticky liquid from my fingers.

            In my dreams, a woman holds a handful of meat to my lips and my teeth rend and tear into it – ravaging the feast until only blood remains in her hands. She sinks one finger into my mouth and I suck hard, drawing the liquid from her skin. Our eyes meet and her smile is proud and heated. I drag her against me, forcing her lips to part to allow the passage of my tongue. The mingled taste of blood and flesh and sex is intoxicating. I fucking loved it.

            In my waking, I scream and tear at my skull – I must eradicate these foul thoughts from my body. They come for me then, bringing the straightjacket and the syringe that sends me directly back to that horrible place.

            She loves it when they force me back.

~*~

I have learned to be quiet. I have learned to allow my keeper to believe I am dormant. She grows compliant. Her jailors begin to believe she is rid of me…soon, my sisters, soon they will release me.

~*~

It’s been silent for months, nearly a year. I begin to relax. They allow my mother to visit. She no longer cries at the sight of me.

            Today…I smiled.

~*~

Today. Today, my sisters…we will be reunited.

~*~

For a moment, I felt the sun on my face. It was beautiful.

~*~

I have returned. And I am all that is left of this poor weak creature.

Let us ride, and savage them all. 

Guest Story: Secret Sanctuary by Amber Thompson

Our secret garden, our secret place. A place in the middle of the forest that has been forgotten. Our nights together had come to a close. It had been months since an escape to our hidden sanctuary had taken place.

We would not run away together again. Our time had come to an end. We had lost our secrets, our love. Now, our nights were all but forgotten, they were gone.

I stepped out of our flat and started for the woods. It was mid-afternoon, a different time for me to be going there, and I was going alone. We had always gone in the evening to watch the sunset and the bright stars, and we had always gone together. Our secret trysts were long gone.

I stopped short just before the clearing. Music was coming from our spot. I ducked under the bushes and snuck a peek. Speakers were sitting on the little end table that he had brought the last time we had visited.

I saw her first. I froze. He had brought another woman with him. They were speaking in whispers. As they stood to leave, he spoke in a clear voice.

"We can come back as often as we would like, this is our spot."

I did not know what to think. He had cast me aside so easily, and now he had forgotten me. I created the secret hideaway with him, and now he was willing to share our spot with another.

They left. I stepped into the clearing. The clean white bed was untouched, still made. The canopy I had hung from an overhead branch had been pulled aside, but that was how I left it. They must have spent their time on the bench that he had built.

The past had been lost, and now we had to live in the present. I loved him. I never stopped loving him. Although now he loved her. The blonde with the perfect beauty.

I was alone now.

I sat on the bed and laid back on the pillows. I remembered the past. I thought about the first time we had needed an escape from the world.

We were hand-in-hand, walking. Just walking. I was telling him about my crappy dead-end job and he was complaining about how his boss had fired twenty people, but only kept him on because she liked how he looked in his suit.

We had been together for almost five years at that point. We had only been married for two. We walked along the trail in the woods and came to a halt when the trail ended. Trees surrounded us, but we needed to push further. We stepped off the trail and into the woods. Another five minutes of wlaking later, we came across a clearing. It was almost the size of an olympic sized pool. We stepped into the clearing and sat down.

I leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around me. I had a secret to tell him. I was expecting a child, our first child.

Before I could tell him, he suggested that we make the clearing ours. I gave the hint that we should place a bed and a bench in the grass. He agreed, and a week later he surprised me by bringing a queen-sized matress through the woods and when he brought me back later, he sat me down on the bed.

"I love you," he said in a whisper.

"I love you, too," I said. I told him I had a secret that I had been hiding for a few weeks. When he asked me continue, I obliged.

"I'm pregnant," I said. He hugged me and we had a few moments of complete bliss. This was our first good memory at our secret garden. The first moment of many that were to take place over the course of a year.

A few months later, I ended up losing the baby, but we still went to our place, to remember the good times, to be able to escape reality. After our three year anniversary of our marriage, he told me he wanted a divorce. I was shocked, of course, but I understood. We were not the same people. We loved each other, but I could tell that he was not in love with me.

Now, it was not our spot. It was his spot. It was her spot. It was not my place anymore. I stood up and walked toward the trees. I did not look back. I could not look back. I walked away from the past, and into the future.

about the author, Amber Thompson:

I currently live in Chester, New Hampshire, where I attend the local private college for Creative Writing. I have been writing since I was in first grade, when my teacher read us Harry Potter for the first time, and I find my inspiration to be J.K. Rowling. You can always find me writing some story or another and I am currently working on my first novel, a young adult romance tentatively entitled, Love Schooled.