Be Still My Doll-- My E3 Horror Story

Ms. Soult asked us to write a horror story...
..and boy, did I deliver. Enjoy!
[Very graphic, full of blood, vomit, and torture!]
[Oh, and this is the abridged version for class]

Be Still My Doll


Lili/ Androgyneric


Note: This contains a large amount of graphic violence, horror scenes, and an extended torture scene. In addition, some may find some of the content to be ideologically disturbing and I apologize. This story is not for the faint of heart! Enjoy!

In addition, this should not raise any eyebrows for anyone [ie my parents, my teachers, and perhaps even fellow peers]… I am completely sane, and do not have any want to do this to anyone…this story came to me in the form of a dream, so I have noone to blame….


Living near the brilliant Mediterranean Sea had its wonderful moments; the days when the cerulean sky seems to glow, and reverberate the most screeching, discordant calls of albatrosses. I find albatrosses to reflect grace and beauty, and as a descendant of Gypsy blood, they hold an almost occult feeling- one of luck and good fortune to see one. They seemed to flock to me, small sable orbs glittering curiously at me long flowing robes, denoting my family being of high status, thick silk laid over soft velvet, rich hues ranging from the lightest of tans to the deepest of violets. Despite my classy appearance, I forgo shoes oftentimes, allowing my thin toes to dig into the warm graininess of the Mediterranean sands. I want to connect with the earth, care for it, and get to know all of the feelings and creatures within its boundaries…and I feel the best way is to shed these needless trivialities that we hold ourselves to-- That is why I follow the path of Saint Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals and nature as a whole.

So lovely….

As I think of this, I clutch the small cluster of rosary around my neck, sending up a prayer in thanks for seemingly endless good weather. The salty sea wind whips about merrily, tossing my golden-blonde hair about my pale face, and I grin up at the endless soft cyan sky in a bit of gratefulness.

I look around, sensing a slight change in pressure in the air, and notice the friendly tokens of luck had taken flight, screeching hoarsely of some urgency I did not see. Perhaps a shark lurked in the deeper waters, or perhaps some other predator. Either way they seemed strangely panicked.

I shrug the feeling off, but it will not leave…the air has a sharper feeling behind it, crisper…colder.

Where has my halcyon gone to..?

I brush my hair away from my face, just in time to receive a face-full of sea-spray. I cough heavily in the too-moist air, trying to take a full breath. The tiny droplets look strange, carried along by a supernatural force as they hover, casting tiny prisms of full-fledged rainbows into my deep-set green eyes. I look around in wonder, as the sheer, almost ethereal beauty of the moment. As my eyes take in more of the beach scene, I spot a strange figure far away, enough for me not to be able to discern the figure as male or female, but simply a silhouette of a person, with a strange pack, or some sort of form upon its back that seemed to arc up behind them.

I draw closer out of curiosity-perhaps this person had washed ashore? It did happen, since ships were becoming increasingly popular- this was the 13th century, anyway. I step within 5 meters of the person, and realize under the brilliant light of the late day sun that this was not an ordinary man- or would you even call this picture of beauty a man at all? Some form of angel? For the form upon his back was not a pack at all- but a pair of downy white wings. They are fully open, allowing the warmth of the sun to highlight every single feather with a touch of evening sunlight- casting each one into a strangely beautiful glow. His form was a vision of perfection in itself- his skin was a delicate shade of pure ivory, like a sliver of moonlight shaped into the form of a gorgeously lithe man. His hair was in sharp contrast to these pale features, jet-black like Father Ezekiel said the heart of Lucifer was- but why do I use this to explain him? Is this just mindless thought? Either way, his hair was a gloriously burnished ebony, falling in loose waves to his slim waist. He is dressed in loose red cloth, wrapped gently around his lissome and quite attractive form.

Such a beautiful man…!

“May I help you?”

I start, taking a step back in surprise to his noticing me. Now that I can fully see him, I am once again in awe of his countenance-- pale, ovaloid in shape, sharply angled eyes piercing cerise in color, thin black eyebrows arched slightly in perhaps annoyance or maybe simple curiosity. His lips look delightfully soft, a hint of a coral tone behind them as they curve into a frown, which jolts me from my mental worship. He looks at me again, his piercing red eyes now reflecting more of a superiority. For some reason this sparks an emotion of humility in me; causing my knees to buckle and hit with a barely audible crunch on the sands, my thin, shaking hands, in frenzied motions, making the sign of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.



"I--I..." I would not look up, my face growing cold, as I seem to be in the presence of some angel. My heart pounded from my ribcage, like a caged animal, thrashing about for freedom. My head cannot make head or tail of this situation, trying to stutter out some form of humble apology, or some blessing or another.

"Stand."

I gasped lightly, my hands shaking as I slowly pushed myself up from the sand, my eyes the last thing to rise as I met his by simple accident, and I cannot help but let out a small cry--his eyes are like liquid fire...melting and writhing within such a small confinement. Reds and oranges floating like flotsam and jetsam of magma...

I push myself to a shaking standing position, full of wonder of this seemingly beneficent being, and I close my eyes in prayer, clasping my thin-fingered hands into a form of prayer, mumbling thanks to God for being blessed in such a presence. As I spoke the final syllable in "Amen," I felt a cold sensation against the softly thumping jugular vein. Were his hands upon me? I opened my eyes just barely, allowing my hands to fall to my sides. Upon realizing what was on my neck, my awe fell away, and it became more of an innate fear. It was a long metal pole of sorts, resting now against my shoulder and tracing down my arm slowly, awaking nerves to shiver as the cold metal came to rest at the bend of my arm.

"What are you-?"

"Quiet."

He drew the metal length away from my arm, and rested it once again on my shoulder, the cold, hollow metal ringing slightly in the sea breeze. He tapped it slowly, almost gently as he met my eyes and flexed his wings almost restlessly. I flinch at the slight gust they cause, my hair floating out of my face. I look at his lips, slowly curving into a very disconcerting smile. The smile is disconcerting because of these glimmering eyes, which now reflect something grimly sinister. He pulls the pole away again, muttering,

"And you'll be a perfect addition..."

I let out a small noise of question, reaching up to push a stray piece of hair from my face. He raises the pole, and lets it land on my wrist, halfway to my face. The force was incredible for such a vague move, and I feel a small pop where it had landed so powerfully. I wince, whimpering as I feel the skin and bone beginning to bruise. I look at him reproachfully, and begin to turn away.

"Don't move."

For some reason this horribly authoritative, though incredibly dulcet voice holds me fast, and I do not turn back to him, but stand still as the statues would in the ruins of Parthenon. I close my eyes, clutching my hurt wrist to my chest as I whimper again softly, the area beginning to rise in red swollenness, feeling his powerful presence draw closer behind me. There was a sharp noise of the metal instrument being sheathed away, and I heard him clear his throat quietly. My head is troubled by question after question, but this strange awe and fear mixture holds my rosy lips fast, and I stay still as he breathes into my left ear, a low tenor vibrating into a soft, far too receptive to his almost sultry voice…

His voice… it is so….

“Want to know why I’m so attractive?” His slender fingers toyed with a strand of my hair, his other hand sliding over my waist. I flinch, shaking now. I stutter, pushing his hands away from my side, but he grabs the wrist and jerks it behind me, causing me to let out a small cry of pain, like a albatross shot right out of the sky, falling to its doom in the crashing waves below it.

Because you are amazing…because you are of another world… an angel…

“B-Be…cause… you’re a servant of God…an …a…angel…”

The syllables of ‘angel’ are said a little more laboriously, as he stroked the back of my head, meeting my neck as he touched along my hair. I sigh shakily, repeatedly pushing his hand from my waist as I heard him start to hum softly. It was a familiar song, perhaps a song I had heard at Mass, or perhaps a song from my childhood--either way it had a lulling effect as I pulled away, my heart not pounding as much as before. I was a little more at ease-- perhaps he had simply been acting volatile…but he was obviously a creature of holiness, so he could mean no harm… my throbbing wrist begged to differ.

“Oh no…” He chuckled, a noise likened to a thousand small chimes, all perfectly in tune, ringing at once. “I’m no angel.”

You are not angel? Then what are you? …A demon?

I frowned slightly, cocking my head off to the right.

“I’m not beautiful from any work besides my own…and you can make me even more beautiful… you’re imperative to my beauty.”

Imperative..? Why….?!

“What?” This made no sense, and my almost incredulous voice was easy to read.

“I can show you… but…what is the time?” He looked out at the sun, the fiery orb reflecting back at him, casting his entire body into a hellish, almost dream-like form. He looked back, and his scarlet eyes glimmering in some odd form of excitement.

“I’ll be able to show you….” He grinned, showing a pair of unnervingly sharp white teeth, his entire face drastically shadowed by the late day, almost blood-red sun.

“Alright then,” I said, my teeth chattering from something that had little to do with the gradually cooling evening air, “But I have Mass in one hour.” I pulled out one of Italy’s newest trends-- a pocket watch. It was actually my father’s, but he said that I would find more use of it than he would, and I smiled as I thought of the wizened man with a thick, curly blonde beard, wrapping the thick silver chain around my hand as I thought this.

“You won’t be late.” He smiled softly. He lunged forward, grabbing me in both hands under the arms, lifting his grand wings to full length, monstrous in size, probably twice his height, my head flung slightly downward as he propelled us upward, my breath knocked out as I rasped out,

“What are… you..?” He gradually leveled off, and I grabbed at his hands furiously, glancing down at the slowly receding landscape, golden dunes highlighted by the sun shrinking to the size of a child’s size pile of sand.

“We’re going to the Cathedral…” He did not bother to look down at me, his wings beating the air in smooth rhythm, his eyes looking as though he was disinterested in my words. I open my mouth in shock,

“That’s where I was going!” I clawed at his hands, but he only held me tighter, squeezing me to him as I wheezed out a small breath of protest, “Tight…”

He did not relinquish his too-strong grip, causing my breath to become shallow, and for small white lights to flash in my eyes. I groaned aloud, struggling for air as he rose higher into the atmosphere, my hair and face becoming damp from the moist air, the slowly darkening cobalt sky shimmering in and out of my dimming eyesight as I lifted my head to his, gasping out any syllable that would come to my parched vocal chords,

Cannot…..I….God….!!

“Let…..go…!”

“Oh?” He looked down at me with a touch of what seemed to be mock surprise, or was it genuine…? My brain was losing air fast, and my heart and lungs screamed in protest to this lack of oxygen, clouding my senses. Suddenly the grip was loosened, and I inhaled ever so gratefully this early night air, looking up at the winged man in thanks, but noticed he was far above me… he had…

I am falling…and…

I slammed feet first to the cobbled ground, two sick crunching pops in sync with each other resounded in the small enclosure of the Cathedral front garden. The feeling was non-existent, but as I looked down to assess the damage, the numbness clambered up to my startled brain like a mountain cat towards its unsuspecting prey--

Both of my tibias now rested a hand and a half’s length from my waist, tattered tendons, still attached to the bone, palpitating slightly in the fresh air, appeared to be darkening in the presence of oxygen. I felt sick looking down at my completely destroyed legs, feeling the warm liquid flow freely down my calves. I felt myself slowly sinking, more skin tearing to shreds as I fell onto my back, gasping, hitting my head sharply on the hard cobbled road, inciting small bursts of lightning to flash in front of my closed lids. I heard the soft gracefulness of wings flapping to a halt, a shadow appearing over me.

“You…” I coughed, my head pounding, the only thing in pain at the moment, as my lower body must have gone into a shock. “You did this…”

…You sick bastard…certainly not an angel…

The same twinkling laugh fell from his lips, and I heard him shift slightly from one foot to the other. He made a small rustling noise, leaning down and taking my hands. I opened my eyes just a sliver, jerking my hands away from him as I lay back on the ground, knowing that soon enough the evening Mass crowd would be here and I would be saved from whatever in God’s name was happening to me….

“Agggh!” I let out a pained cry, as he yanked on the back of my collar, pulling me towards the worn stairs of the Cathedral. Something this demonic could not enter such a cherished house of worship, and I clutched at my rosary as he pulled me up the first stair, calling out to God, the saints and… true angels… for deliverance, my head making connection with the sharp point of the stair, my hands losing grip on the shiny beads. My bloodied legs flopped uselessly in trail of me, leaving in their wake thick pools of lifeblood behind me. This seemed to awaken the senses below as I was dragged upwards, and I tried to claw at the sensation, but no avail-- my body was losing blood at an alarming rate, weakening me tremendously.

The heavy doors creaked open, showing an empty, dark cathedral, only lit by the newly birthed, almost full moon. I let out a ragged sob, as he dropped me down to the heavy oak planks, the doors shutting with a resounding slam to the both of us. I was alone… with this….creature.

God, please…by all the power of the saints in Heaven…deliver me from torment…

He walked almost histrionically up between the two rows of pews, raising his hands and wings at once, letting out bright laugh after laugh, the irony of his laughter, and my pain-blinded eyes leaking hot tears as I thrashed about, turning onto my stomach laboriously, and lifting up a hand, dragging myself a moment, the weight of my inoperable legs causing a strain on my pained and weakened senses, and, in this, I laid my hand on a sharp nail that must have stuck up from the aged wood, and I cried out, pulling my hand away immediately.

He stopped his psychopathic laughter, and turned to me with a grin that suggested something that wasn’t pity… his skin glowed under the moon as he moved in slow steps toward me, every single ligament and muscle in his soft midsection rippling slightly, creating a slightly silver effect as he smiled with closed lips this time, kneeling in front of me, crimson eyes glimmering as he stoked my head again, pulling back on his spidery pale hand a palm full of slightly gooey red liquid.

“Mmmh…”He moaned, his plush lips falling open as a moist tongue pressed out, lapping along his white fingers as he closed his eyes and whispered as he continued,

“Hahh… D’you want to know why I’m so beautiful?”

I let a small growl escape my throat, but he ignored the sound and fluttered his eyelids as though the taste of my pain caused him a great deal of pleasure, cleaning his once-soaked hand completely. His pure porcelain face was marred now by the deep color of my blood, dripping slowly off his face as his black-red lips curved upwards. He licked his lips slowly, looking down at me as he answered his own question,

“Why, because of the lovely ladies of Italy, of course!” He laughed again, this time it grated on my dulled nerves, and I groaned out,

“What does…. that mean….?!”

“Your blood…so delicious… gives me youth and vitality…it is the only way I can live…!”

He seemed too proud of this, running his bloodied hand through his soft black locks, too proud of taking the blood of Italian women for his own gain…I gasped, my scratched and bruised hands dashing over my chest in blessing as I asked,

“Are you a vamp--?”

He laughed again, this time the laughs sounded too low, too husky, and the way his eyes lit up was frightening in itself, if not for the present situation as he cut me off--

“Oh Heavens no…” He leaned further from his crouched position and eyed me face to face, “I’m just a demon lost on his way…can’t you ever forgive me…?” He smiled, sarcasm dripping from his words like the fresh gore from the back of my skull, planting a small kiss on my nose. I cried out in dissent, lifting a weak hand and pushing his head away with a feeble push.

He reached out and took my hand gently between his palms, looking at me with a saddened, almost heartbroken look.

“You can’t forgive me for what I’ve done…?”

I winced, another tear sliding out of my eye, and shook my head violently, blonde waves bouncing slightly as I gave this vehement response. He looked over at the multi-colored mosaics on the windows, depicting many scenes ranging from the birth of Christ to the execution of Saint Irene.

“Wouldn’t that be sad…” He stepped up to the depiction of her terror-stricken face, as her body was slowly mutilated in a cauldron of hot oil, “To boil alive…? Alternatively… “He leaned over slightly and touched a display of Joan of Arc burning alive at the stake, “To burn…? I find it much more interesting to die from something…else….something…” He placed thin fingers to his pointed chin in thought, “Different…?”

My eyes widened like a frightened animal’s, my heart most likely to be heard throughout the empty cathedral. How long had we been here? When did the eight o-clock hour arrive? When…?! Time was moving so slowly….

…deliver me….

I let out a another moan, the nerves slowly awakening in my legs, causing all the open flesh to tingle like nothing I had ever felt before, like being pierced with a thousand small pestilences at once…

I heard the sound of cloth ripping, and realized he had torn several of the curtains off the decorated windows, and held the poles and hooks alongside the cloth. His face looked unhappy now, and he glanced back at me and spoke as though he spoke to a comrade, his face earnest and not betraying what his voice would,

“I have made an error on my behalf…. The full moon is not until tomorrow…Only then can I feed…..” He approached me and smiled down, and I pushed upwards with my weak arms to view his face better. He, without warning, lifted a sandaled foot and shoved my head down with it, the harsh grain of the aged wood splintering into my cheek, and I scream out in agony again, grasping up blindly at my face as he continued to push my face into the floor, rolling it slightly side to side, murmuring,

“But I’m not letting you go anywhere, you’re going to stay with me…and I know where I’m going to keep my doll…”

He released his pressure on my head and I exhaled and sobbed simultaneously, and he took this time to pick me up by a handful of golden locks, dragging me to a pew, where he laid me down upon it. I looked up at him helplessly, my entire form quivering in sheer apprehension. He smiled, clasping his hands together like a child with a new plaything.

“But my doll… she doesn’t look like a doll at all… she looks like something all broken… shall we fix her…?” He rubbed his pale palms, thinking.

“Well, dolls cannot talk…so that needs to fixed…”

…deliver me….

I cannot speak as it is, transfixed by his beautiful, yet psychopathic voice. He speaks slowly to me, as one would a child on the verge of succumbing to slumber, but the things he speaks of are things you keep far from that child. He drew away, walking slowly up to the front of the room, near the grand gilded gold podium, towards to a set of incenses and other religious artifacts. He leaned over a candle and lit it by some strange way that I could not see from my lying position… he carried it back, and sat it on the floor near the pew, and pulled one of the lengths of curtain fabric out, tearing it into several long lengths, his eyes too focused on me as he tore it to shreds. He smirked, flexing his wings as he leaned over me and flipped my thin form over onto my stomach, tugging my hands roughly behind me also….it was painful, and I voiced it in a aggrieved tone,

“What are you--?!!?”

He crossed my arms over my back, singing in a soft voice that would have been lulling, if my mutilated legs did not seem to pulsate every half-second and my entire skull scream in horror…

“My doll… she is the best of all… she is always there for me, you know… it’s just her and me….”

I let out a scared whimper and I tried to wriggle out of the tight cloth, but he yanked it tighter, causing me to yelp out.

“Be good…Be still…I don’t want anymore of that beautiful, precious blood anywhere but inside me…”

I looked back at him as much as I could, and the sadistic grin playing across his thin lips fell short of the Satanic glow in his slanted eyes, an inferno themselves, glittering malevolently as he applied the same technique to my motionless legs, beginning to sing again as he finished his intricate knots. He had tied my legs together, bent up towards my waist…

“She will always be the doll I want, pure and sweet…the one adore, from head to feet….”

He continued to sing as he attached a large length of rope, having taken flight within the high-celinged house of worship, doubling it over one of the ancient beams some twenty feet to the ceiling. He came down gracefully, picking up the seemingly forgotten candle, its light casting his pale countenance into horrid contrast, the pale sallow look of his face washed all the misconceptions I had ever had of him being beautiful, and he leered at me eerily. I shook at his gaze, silent sob after silent sob racking my form as I looked away, pressing my face against the velveteen purple cushion of the pew, heavily scented with the smell of aged candles, ancient books, and the scent of the long-ago lumbered pinewood itself.

I closed my eyes, imagining that if I held still and quiet long enough, all of this nightmare would wash away, and that the feeling of being lifted to a sitting position was only a dream…but the excruciating pain that came to my lips was far from dream-like… my eyes flew open, wide bottle green in panic, looked down to see him slowly pour the white wax over my lips, dripping onto my chest…I attempted to scream, but the fast-hardening wax had sealed my lips shut, and the scream built up in my mouth, bouncing off my sealed lips and back into my terrified psyche. I shook head side to side in protest, thought there was little I could do. He smiled, holding my head still as he slid his hand another time around my neck, drawing back with a handful of more coagulated blood on his hands, and even under his sharpened fingernails. He grinned, the sharp teeth lining his mouth parting as his slim pink tongue touched on each fingertip momentarily, his eyes practically shining in delight. I let more tears fall, my body racked with pain as I leaned helpless, bound tight and completely at this monster’s mercy.

…deliver me from torment….

“Ah… the time has come…”He laid a kiss on my sealed lips, running his tongue where the seam of my lips would be, “That I must depart…your family and friends will be most worried…but I can’t let them take you away from me…my Hunger draws closer, and my love for your thick red wine…” He leaned further down, resting his pale hollow cheek against my thigh, angling his face towards the still oozing, raw flesh, pushing his tongue into the gap of the puncture of my totally ruined knees , sliding his tongue up the yellow-white bone, looking up as he did so. I whimpered, skin drawing tight around my mouth as I let out the weak noise, the shimmer in the flaming cerise of his eyes dimming as he closed his eyes, snaking his tongue into the gap of flesh, taking hold of the raw ligament as I shrieked a muffled noise…My brain was slowly becoming a fog, the unreal horror becoming more and more distant as he fed slowly from my oozing flesh, stained dark rusty red by the slowly crusted blood.

I could not speak, and this become even more terrifying than the dulled pain…it had finally hit me what was happening, and I let out a muffled, hiccupping sob, tearing my skin again as he moaned, slipping the tongue around the oozing wound, in and out of the tendons that led to nowhere, faster as he lapped up the gooey liquid as one would a sumptuous meal.

“Ah…”He rose suddenly, as I looked up dimly at him. His gorgeous face was now soaked in my blood, the small upturn of his pretty nose dark, dark red, “...your Mass is in less than fifteen minutes…I’ll have to put you away now…” He grinned, bloodied teeth gleaming horrifically in the early moonlight.

“Don’t expect to hear from me…tonight is not the full moon…so I’ll be back when the moon is full…tomorrow…” He opened his wings slowly, taking me in his strong arms facedown, my head falling forwards as he lifted us both to the ceiling to the same area where he had placed the cloth.

What are you…doing?!

He proceeded to fasten one length to the knot of my tied legs, still holding me fast he continued to my upper body.

He…he is going to hang me here…!

God…!

He let me loose, and my body arches up into the knots, extending my bare stomach to be the lowest part of my body, my broken legs on fire in the horrid bonds. I moaned aloud, my head in pain at my extremely extended muscles, and he let go of my bound body, treading air as he smiled at me, a horrid grin filled with a psychotic and sadistic feeling. The air was cold with the lack of flame, and my distended limbs ached already from the position. I shivered, causing my suspended body to shake on the ancient beam, my heart fluttering as I looked down, twenty feet away from a painful death, yet also, ironically, the pews my own family sat in to pray and hold service.

I…

He ran his soft fingers into my hair, pushing my head side to side as my body swung with it. He pushed further, releasing me into a sharp spiral, causing my mouth to water in pre-nausea and eyes to dart around, and I tried to breathe slowly into the dark swirls as I spun faster, his softly scented hands landing on my face each time to turn me with increasing speed. I shrieked into my mouth, my stomach churning and tossing emptiness and bile inside of it, and I closed my eyes, screaming again, my throat becoming raw as I let out toneless scream after scream, each more helpless as the last… Nausea grew in my weakened state, and I felt my entire body convulse, and dry heave after dry heave into my empty mouth became a burst of hot bile, soaking my mouth with fresh stomach acids and flowing into my teeth and gums, eating at the enamel as it sat, sloshing about a mouth that could not release the acid, stinging every tiny nerve and taste bud mercilessly, and I screamed in pain. This was a poor choice on my part, as the stomach acids flowed into the newly made accessible orifice, causing me choke helplessly. I forced myself to stop breathing, letting out sharp breaths into my nose, letting the slimy yellow liqueiscent ooze collect in the curvatures of my nose, as I swallowed, sniffing in air through now clogged nostrils, flaring them, trying to collect more oxygen into them, but no avail…….

I opened my watering eyes, noticing my body had come to a slow rotation, and looked around with bleary eyes, realized he was gone…

How had he…?

A slow murmur, like many bees congregating at a hive, could be heard as the doors came open again, and I let out a choked inhalation-- the evening Mass crowd.

Please… someone…anyone…please….

My mind moves father and farther away from my head, now ceased to be bleeding and now thudded with a monstrous headache, and I looked down at the gathering people, cries of, “Blood, blood!” being the thing that brought me back to Earth, as I looked down at the men, women, and children point at my blood spattered across the entry way and over one of the pews, their eyes wide in curiosity as one of the men places his finger in a spot of it, an raises it to a questing nose. He inhales slowly, and his eyes soon widen.

“This is not the blood of an animal…this is a person’s blood….”

Mine! Mine!

The crowd grows silent, and a panicked woman speaks from the back of the crowd…

“Who is missing?”

…Me…!

The crowd turns to itself, frightened mothers and fathers picking through the crowd of small children and teens until all heads had been counted.

“No, no one’s miss--”

BANG! The front doors were flung open again, this time a small group led by…

“Andrea!! Andrea! Where is my daughter?!” My father screamed, his face red and hair far beyond disheveled. I had never seen him like this; so far from his pleasant, loving disposition… this was fear in his flashing eyes.

Papa… I am right here… Come save me from the bad man… I imagined the times as a child when I would pretend to be chased by monsters… and how he would always “save” me from them, laughing as he did…now he was not laughing…and he was not saving me.

See me…can’t anyone…look UP!

He looked at the crowd, eyes dark green in anger as he looked at each face, hoping to see mine. I wriggled about; know that at least if I fell, he would know where I was…

“Have you seen her?!” He stepped up to Father Ezekiel, taking grasp of the feeble, spindly-figured man by his black robes.

“N-No, sir…not since this morning…” The man was visibly shaken by this unexpected verbal and physical assault, and he backed away from him, his eyes full circles as he clasped his hands together in… prayer..?

Prayer for me.

“Damn it!” The stick he had held in his left hand was thrown, and he stormed out, the resounding clatter all that remained of the furious and anxious moment…Father Ezekiel ushered shocked and frightened children to the front pews, gesturing their parents to find a close seat.

“N-Now…today…it seems we have a missing girl…one of our own…” He looked about, his eyes coin-like in worry and apprehension as he continued, his words falling upon deaf ears [at least mine] as I stopped wriggling, slowly rotating in place, looking down a strained neck as the men and women prayed for me…my safe return…

I tried to make another noise, but a decrepit gargle was all that would birth from my ragged throat, the open sores forming burning under the merciless acid from my biliousness…

I cannot scream….my eyes…too dry to even cry….

I am truly helpless…

I am so…

I shook my head… was this a terrible mindset to have…my disturbed and pained ramblings went in and out, echoing, reverberating… and the sound of a albatross…? The nasally shriek of this animal was distinctive….and it seemed to have come from below… I looked down at the group of worshippers, my viewpoint slowly changing as I turned, back curled into an inverted ‘U’ shape as I rotated…no bird here. No birds anywhere…where…

I’m hallucinating, aren’t I? There are no birds….

I looked down again that the men and women, mouths opened dramatically as they sang. This noise sounded strangely discordant and haunting, as a man’s voice, a rough bass, slipped down a pitch and landed in F minor, adding a disturbing funeral sound to the song of worship, to the song praising a benevolent God…
I couldn’t see them anymore as I turned away, my eyes now focused on the mosaic windows… and the very one the…demon? Had made distinct mention of…St. Irene…

That is me…

I looked at her stylized face, her face thrown back in what I could imagine was a horrible agony, or maybe… she was…singing with the choir below…she would be the perfect soprano, the forte of pain…

What am I thinking?!?

I…

I moaned a little, and immediately regretted it, for the slowly healing wounds along my throat were not completely back in commission, and I gagged a little on the collected saliva in my mouth, a disgusting, acidic, slightly salty taste. As I turned, another window came into better view…an angel. He rose above the men and women on the hillside, his ivory wings glowing in the moonlight from outside… his face utter tranquility as he flew into the painted sunlight, much unlike the face that rested above it…

I let out a terrified whimper, for the face resting above it was indeed his, and he grinned, running his long tongue across his teeth sinisterly.

No, no, no… please… There are so many innocent people in here….

…like me…

I shook my head, and he simply closed his eyes for a moment, opening them slowly. They had that horrible glow back, scarlet beyond compare as he gazed at me through long lashed eyes, the mentally incinerating heat slowly dimming, and when I blinked my worn eyes, upon opening…He was gone.

Had he ever been there to begin with…?

My sanity… My precious, precious sanity….where had it gone…? He was there… hovering over the painted angel… he was…was he not…?

I closed my eyes, hanging my head in defeat. What could I do now?Nothing…I listened to the people, nearing the end of their singing, thankfully, as my entire body, most of all my head, pounded horribly in time with my erratic heartbeat. I heard the people clambering to leave their pews, heading towards the front for a blessing from the priest before returning to their warm, safe homes for a long, much desired rest…I sighed out of my nose, feeling a small pang of hunger ache through my abdomen…it had been at least six hours since I had last had a meal, and my completely empty, stinging stomach growled like a small animal, cramping my body even more uncomfortably, causing me to wince in pain.

How long must I…until tomorrow night..? No…

I clenched my bound hands into fists, the slender muscles in my pale forearms tensing over each other. This was…beyond any form of terrible. This was something that would make the Devil himself cringe…but wasn’t the winged man a demon of sorts..? Would that make him a cohort….?

Don’t go…I am still…hanging around… ha…

I furrowed my thin, arched brows in an awkward feeling…why was I laughing? Why was this funny at all? It certainly was not… and my overly warm skin, so wrapped in the red silken curtains like the ones that still fluttered below…gave sharp agreeance to this..

I really am like a doll…just here…just something….but I am worse, I am less than a doll… I am like….no… I am….a forgotten marionette….

The last person, a ragged woman with frayed out white hair, dipped her head in thanks to Father Ezekiel, blessing him return for his continual service to the Lord and the town. She limped out the door, and Father Ezekiel and I were the last ones left inside…but he did not know I was there, as he clasped withered pale hands in front of a large marble sculpture of the Virgin Mary, intricate in detail, her robs almost seeming to flow from her graceful figure as she held the infant Jesus, her eyes serenely closed. He murmured a little above a whisper, and I could barely hear his devout words…

“May our dear Andrea Franciscan be safe in her travels…”

I dug my clenched fingers into my palms, my sharpened and varnished red nails digging little purpled ruts into my palms.

“May she find solace in her choices…and may she be back into the arms of the angels as soon as possible…”

I let out a small noise of dismay, as I did not want to be back in the arms of angels…! This was the last thing on Earth I wanted…I shifted my body again, moving backwards and forwards, drawing the fabric roughly against the hard beam, swinging helplessly as I tried to draw his attention…I only made myself more nauseous, and tipped the angle of my body further down, until I was nearly overturned, my head facing downwards as my eyes widened in fright…not only was Father Ezekiel about to leave, but he was going to leave….without me… in the dark… as he capped candle after candle, removing his zucchetto as he drifted towards the exit, pushing the heavy wooden doors open, pausing to look back at the enshadowed room…his eyes never once drifted upwards, and I decided to let out one last scream for help…

‘Hnnghh!” I screamed through my still sealed lips, stretching the raw flesh to point of breaking in several dry areas, bloodying my upper lip as I let out the gutteral scream…

…as he let the door slam resoundingly behind him.

NO! No! No…no…I…

I closed my eyes, biting at my tounge, trying to think as my mind drifted in and out of consciousness and panic,and the cold, cold realization came to me, reverberating off my deadnened nerves....


....I am...truly...



...alone.