Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

The Madness Of Desire

The night that we met, I didn’t tell him what I wanted him to do, but I told him that I wanted him to do something for me. I couldn’t promise him that it wouldn’t hurt, but I promised him that it would feel good, after a while. His glance was curious, yet cautious, as if he knew that he should turn me down, but couldn’t quite bear to do so. He licked his lips, like he knew how delicious I could make his days if he did what I wanted. It was dangerous, and so was I, but I was too good for him to care.

Above all things, Brendan craved control. He had always felt left behind, forgotten, overlooked and undervalued, and I suppose that made him hungry for power in a way that he couldn’t control. He had tried to pretend that he didn’t care, and that he was satisfied with his life just as it was, but I could see the glint of ambition that still remained in his eyes, and I knew I could put it to good use.

He reminded me of my Father. Not because they were similar, it wasn’t that at all, but because he reminded me of the kind of men my Father had associated with when I was a little girl. I’d come home from school and there would always be some guy, sitting miserably in our living room, complaining about his lot in life. He’d turn them around, give them something to live for, something to believe in, and they all went on to do great things. The second I saw Brendan, I knew that he had the same potential.

My methods weren’t exactly the same as my Father’s, but things seemed to work out for me anyway. I just wanted to make my Father proud. It had been my only dream since he was taken away from me, and with Brendan, I could tell that I was finally close.

I let him think he had control of me. If you want control, you have to give it up, or at least convince someone that you have. I’d fawn over him, flutter my eyelashes, make a show of him in my very best baby voice.

“Oh Daddy, you’re so strong.” I’d coo, at the very littlest things he’d do, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Oh Daddy, I can’t live without you.” He was addicted. It’s all about getting them hooked, you know? Everyone has a vice and the trick is to become that vice.

He thought that he was lucky to meet me, but I leave nothing to chance. He was always going to meet me, I made sure of that. I’d watched him for months, making notes on the downtrodden frown he’d wear, how it worsened with each day, with the storm clouds that followed him growing heavier each time he left the house. He liked to drink in the same pub every night, and he’d rant and rave about all the things that bothered him, but he could tell that nobody was really listening.

It was all too easy. You take a lonely, bitter man, bring a little sunshine into his life, and he’ll die for you, if you ask him too, kill for you without a second thought. I shone above him, like the sun, smiling across the bar from him, watching him smile for the first time in weeks as he realised I was looking at him.

It didn’t take long to wrap him around my little finger. All I had to do was listen, nod and smile. Pretty soon, he would die for me, if I asked him too, kill for me without a second thought, but I didn’t ask him to do either. I asked him to keep hold of something for me.

It was just a little thing. Just a little favour for Daddy’s little sunbeam. I knew that he would do it, but frankly, I enjoyed watching him want to do it. I liked to watch him beg when I’d say “I don’t know Daddy, maybe it’s too much…” He’d plead with me to let him help, and it was divine. I’d um and ah, watching the man twist himself in knots with his desperation to prove himself and please me, and just when I could see him close to breaking, I’d relent, knowing that with each moment, his will was breaking, and there would be no going back.

I asked him to keep the pendant at first, around his neck, all the time. He swore to me that he would, and I watched as it dug deep inside of his mind. He didn’t know what it was, of course, so he had no way to prepare for what it would do, and that was half the fun (for me, anyway).

I’d stay up and watch him writhing in the bed, tormented and tortured by the terror of the visions I was planting in his head. Some might say I was being cruel, but it builds character.

My Father used to do this for a few nights, but I kept Brendan under the pendant’s spell for two whole weeks, and by the end, he was terrified to sleep, and a blubbering mess when he was awake, but one coy glance from me and he’d do his best to fake a smile. He wanted to impress me, make a show of himself, but both of us knew that he was falling apart inside, and I was only just getting started.

I put up my Father’s old mirror in the bedroom, high above the bed on the ceiling, and as he tried to get to sleep, I’d stare up into it, knowing that he’d stare too. It made a madman of him. He’d stare up at our reflection, his eyes heavy as the night wore on, and just as he was on the cusp of sleep, a ghostly hand would creep onto his reflected shoulder, or grip around the neck of his reflection, and he’d jump, suddenly wide awake as he searched the bed for what he was so sure he’d seen. That would go on for a few hours every night before his weak, little human body just gave in, and it was very entertaining.

I didn’t just want to freak him out a little, or even just break him. I needed him to be totally destroyed, mine to toy with entirely, and so, it was necessary to play with my food a little.

I would whisper to him as night fell.

“Astaroth.” He’d stare up at our reflection, his eyes wide and frightened, but he didn’t want me to stop, I could tell. “Come home to me Astaroth.” He didn’t know what it meant but the more I said it, the more he’d see in the mirror. I would watch the reflection with him, whispering, dropping kisses softly on his neck as I spoke, skeletal fingers wrapping around the throat of his reflection, and all he could do was whimper and cry.

I left the pendant around his neck, watching him weep every night as the nightmares chased him wherever he went, and as morning came, I would kiss his tear stained cheek, and ask him if he thought he was ready. He would always tell me that he was, despite me not even explaining what I needed him to be ready for. It didn’t matter to him, I suppose. He adored me, I’d made sure of that, but it wasn’t enough. There was something more I needed from him, and I needed him to really beg for it.

I told him to go off into the village and show me that he was worthy, and he came back with the head of a local police officer. I told him to find me somewhere safe, and we went on the run, making a little home in a new hotel room every few days, watching his face flash across the news broadcasts as the population began to panic. I told him to amuse me and he robbed a bank, bringing me home piles of bank notes and a handful of coins. I kissed him, letting him push me up against the thin walls of the hotel bedroom, hearing a little sob escape his lips as he sighed in ecstasy.

There’s always a part of them left, you see. I can take them to the edge, make them do things they wouldn’t believe, and they can’t stop themselves, but there is always a tiny little sliver of them left inside, a little part that doesn’t lose their mind, that is terrified of what they’ve become. If I ever loved him, that was the part I loved the most.

Last night, he came home, his hood low over his eyes, blood dripping slowly down his nails onto the hotel carpet, and he dropped to his knees before me. I rolled my eyes but held him close, listening as he sobbed against my knees, shaking, as he tried to swallow the few seconds where that small part of him would question what he’d done.

“Are you ready, Daddy?” I whispered, watching him look up at me with tear filled eyes and nod repeatedly. He clung to my dress, big puppy dog eyes pleading with me as the sky grew dark outside.

I couldn’t tell whether he agreed because he thought it would bring him relief from my torment, or because he truly craved the power I promised he would have if he didn’t deny me, but either way, I had played with him enough, and I was ready to take things to the next level.

I had tried with other men before, and I’d always got close, but never quite made it, but Brendan was something special, I was sure of it. In the end, I didn’t tell him how things would end. He didn’t need to know, and he’d be happier not knowing. Why couldn’t his last moments be a little joyful?

I placed the mirror before us, propping it up on the dresser and laughing to myself at the trouble he’d had carrying it to each of our secret hideaways. He held onto me, his arms tightly gripped around my legs as he sat, defeated by my side, staring into the mirror with me.

I had promised him power would pulse from his fingertips, and it wasn’t a lie. I promised him that he’d have control, and that was a lie, but it didn’t matter. He was too weak to stop me, and too weak to stop him. My Father grinned from behind our reflections, pulling Brendan towards him and prising his jaw open. I smiled back at my Father, watching him tear the pendant from his own throat and force it down the throat of the helpless, sobbing man in the mirror, while Brendan knelt silently beside me, clinging weakly to my waist.

His grip weakened as I watched him weaken in the mirror, blood splattered across the glass as my Father’s jaws closed around the last of his body, swallowing the last few bites with a smile.

“Hello Astaroth.” I whispered, looking away from the mirror and down to the man by my side with a hopeful smile.

“Hello my darling.” Brendan snarled, standing with a grin and pulling the pendant from his neck. He threw it against the mirror, watching the glass shatter as the pendant fell to the ground with a clatter. A low growl left his lips, and his green eyes were now red. At last, my little puppy dog was a great man, or, to be more specific, a great demon in a weak man’s body.

My Daddy was home, at last.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

True Love

They say that you can speak what you need into existence, and so, I suppose you have to be careful about the lies that you tell. It sounds like a simple lesson, but it’s one that I’ve learned in the worst way imaginable.

Have you ever said something without thinking? Have you ever hurt someone without meaning to? It happens all the time, doesn’t it? It’s just part of life, but you can’t take it back.

I never meant for any of this to happen, but she’s on her way here now. She’s only a few minutes away and when she gets here, my life is over, in every sense, so I’m letting you know, whoever finds this letter, that you must be careful what you say, and never tell a lie that you can’t handle coming true. She’s going to kill me. I wish I could stop her, but I can’t. Please, just listen to what I’m saying. Be careful what you say.

It all started with Lorna.

Lorna was the first name that came to mind when Jessie asked me on a date. Jessie was… well… I don’t know. We’d never spoken, and she had always kept to herself, so I knew nothing about her, except for the fact that everyone thought she was a bit strange. I didn’t really know what to say to her when she asked me. I had barely even noticed her day to day.

People in the office used to joke about her having a crush on me, and sometimes, I thought she might, because of the way she’d stare over from her desk when she thought I wasn’t looking, but I didn’t think about it too much, because she’d never actually acted on it. She’d bring me lunch every day, cups of coffee every morning when I arrived at work, and I suppose maybe I should have seen it coming, but I was never the best at reading signs. When she finally plucked up the courage to ask me out, I panicked and just made up a girlfriend.

It sounds stupid, because it was, but it was a reflex, I guess.

Her name was Lorna, named after the cat I’d had as a kid, and we’d been together for a few years, according to my rushed, ridiculous lie. Jessie’s face fell, her heart shattering before my eyes, and I felt awful, but I’d already told the lie, and I had to see it through. She shuffled away without another word, sniffling a little, and I tried to get on with my day, hoping she’d get over it.

She did not get over it.

Jessie started talking to me more after our first conversation, seemingly emboldened by the rejection, and she was full of questions about Lorna.

I was suddenly trapped in my lie, having to come up with reasons for why Lorna never accompanied me to office social events (she wasn’t out to her family yet), why I’d never mentioned her before (we’re very private) or why nobody else had heard about her (again, we’re very private). She started asking what Lorna looked like, and again, I panicked, picking several aesthetics from thin air and pushing them together to create my imaginary girlfriend.

The day after that conversation, Jessie arrived at the office with a freshly cut and dyed blonde bob, and was wearing a halter neck summer dress, just as I’d described Lorna. It creeped me out a little, but I just tried to forget about it. Jessie was strange, and off putting, but so far, harmless.

It was just a haircut, and a dress. It was nothing to worry about. She was a little scary, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I stayed away from her and tried not to look when she’d stare from her desk, and I just hoped she’d get over it.

Jessie asked me more about Lorna. She wanted to know what she was like, what I liked about her, all the details. I just kept spinning lies. I even took the opportunity to try and scare Jessie off, making up elaborate stories about Lorna’s jealousy. I suppose I hoped that she would worry about Lorna coming after her, but she didn’t seem to get the message.

Every day, she had more and more questions about Lorna, and I’d feed her lie after lie, watching her slowly emulate the girl. I don’t even know why I did it. I think I just hoped she’d start to think that she couldn’t compete, but instead, she just tried as hard as she could to be an impossible girl. It all came to a head a few months later. Jessie was buzzing around my desk, asking questions for her attempts to live vicariously through Lorna, and I just didn’t have the patience for it. I shouted at her, telling her to leave me alone. I felt guilty instantly. She looked crushed, just like she had the first time I turned her down, but, well… it had to be done, didn’t it?

She backed off after that, and I didn’t hear much more from her. It was just the same sad looks from across the office but nothing more. Not hearing from her every day allowed her to fade back into the background.

As time went on, I forgot about Jessie, and about Lorna, and I met Dawn. She was perfect. I was crazy about her the second we met, and that was something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

Dawn and I hit it off right away. We were inseparable. Everyone could see the chemistry between us, including Jessie. She was furious, storming around the office in a rage, shooting daggers at me every time she looked my way, but that was just the start. She cornered me in the office canteen, pushing me up against the wall with a sneer.

“What would Lorna say?” She whispered, her fingers closing around my throat, her eyes manic. “I’m going to tell her” I struggled against her grip, but she sank her fingernails into my flesh, pulling a yelp of pain from my lips. “I’m going to tell her.” Her nails dug into my skin, blood trickling down her fingers as she tightened her grip. I choked under her grasp, her eyes burning into mine with a fury I’d never seen. The others pulled her back, throwing her to the ground as I fell to my knees, spluttering as a few of my colleagues rushed to help me. Jessie was spitting and screaming, restrained by a few of the bigger guys at the office, but they were clearly struggling to keep her away from me.

She was suspended from work after that, but it didn’t keep her away from me. I created a monster, I guess. Love, lust or whatever it was Jessie was feeling was intense. She couldn’t stop herself. She started showing up at my flat, all hours of the day. She didn’t scream and shout like she did at the office, she’d just stand on the pavement across the road, staring up at the window for hours. No matter the weather, rain or shine, every evening after work, she’d be across the road, watching me.

I called the police, but they’d just tell me again and again that until she actually entered my flat or hurt me, there was nothing they could do, so there she stayed, staring up at my window for hours on end.

Her suspension at work was lifted but she never came back to the office. She’d still stand outside of my flat, and started holding vigil outside the office too, just watching me. It was uncomfortable, unsettling, but for the most part, unthreatening. I guess she had got her violent urges out of her system, and all she wanted to do was watch, so after a while, it just became another part of my life. That sounds crazy, but she just kind of faded into the background. I barely even noticed her day to day.

Time went on, and Jessie just became another aspect of my life. She was just… there. She was always watching, but that was all. My life moved on. I got a promotion at work, Dawn and I adopted a cat from the local shelter. Christmas was coming, and we’d talked about getting a bigger place, maybe taking some bigger steps together, so we were supposed to be saving our money, but there was one, rather expensive gift that I couldn’t stop myself from buying.

I was walking home, the ring burning a hole in my pocket, begging me to ask the question when I saw Jessie across from the flat. I wouldn’t have noticed, and I almost didn’t, but as I turned to close the door and head upstairs, I looked over the road, and there she was, side by side with an almost identical woman.

I opened the door again, glancing over and there they were. Jessie, looking back with a big smile, and by her side, a stranger who seemed almost familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her.

They didn’t say a word, they just watched, and as I slowly retreated into the flat, I knew they were still there. I sat by the window, watching them for most of the night, unable to escape the unease of them. Jessie hadn’t bothered me for a long time. She was there, but that was all. Her new friend added something more sinister to the situation. She seemed so familiar, and she just stared up at me as I stared down at her, silence and suspicion between us.

I must have fallen asleep at some point. I woke up, and they were still there, soaked from the rain and watching my window as the first snow of winter began to fall from the sky. They stayed through the storm, always there whenever I checked. Days passed. I went to work, I took Dawn for drinks, for dinner. We went shopping. Life went on, again, and Jessie, along with her new friend faded into the background.

I barely noticed them, until this morning.

Dawn was gone when I woke up. It was a Sunday, so neither of us had work. I walked around the flat, calling out to her, but the whole place was silent. I called her phone, but it just went straight to her voicemail. There was more silence as I hung up, wandering the flat again, checking places I already knew were empty as my heart raced. The silence was stifling, but short lived. All of a sudden, there was a thud against the window. I rushed to the living room, but there was more silence, and I could see nothing out of the ordinary. Jessie was across the street, as usual, wearing matching smiles with her new friend. They kept their hands behind their backs, staring up at me, as usual.

I looked down, trying Dawn’s number again, sighing as her voicemail message began immediately. There was another thud against the window, and my eyes snapped up, watching blood drip down the glass onto the snow that gathered on the window ledge.

I stepped forward, chilled as my heart pounded, watching as Jessie and her friend stepped back onto the pavement. Pressing my fingers against the glass, I looked down at them, watching Jessie’s friend pull her hands from behind her back with a grin, my stomach turning as I watched her raise Dawn’s head above her own. That was when it all fell into place. My lie was across the street, holding my lover’s head in her hands. I couldn’t understand how. I couldn’t understand why, but Lorna was across the street, somehow in the flesh, despite being fictional.

I fumbled with my phone, trying to call for help, my eyes blinded with tears, the two girls walking closer to the edge of the pavement as my mind raced. I felt like I was losing my mind, but, hey, maybe that’s what I deserve.

I did this. I don’t know how, but I did. I told a lie, and now, it’s become the truth. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care. She’s already forced her way through the door downstairs, and I can hear her outside the front door of the flat. It won’t be much longer now. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody, but it doesn’t matter, because Lorna is such a jealous girl.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Living Doll

Her name was Jade, and you loved her more than me. It was hard not to take it personally, but I suppose that’s only natural. You are special.You’re not just someone that I can forget. I’d spent so long looking for someone, surrounding myself with the most beautiful things to take my mind off my longing, but all along, I was looking for you.

Good God, I have longed for you my whole life.

I have always wanted you. Day and night. Every hour and every second. I always knew that I was waiting for you, the details were a little fuzzy, but once the fog began to clear, and my destiny became certain, it was like I finally sprung to life and everything made sense. You had been waiting for me all this time.

Do you remember when we first met?

I replay it in my head all the time. There you were, all alone in the bar, no ring, no drink in your hand, and I decided I was going to fix both. You liked beer. Ice cold, and I got you another, and then another, watching your lips curve into a smile whenever you talked about the romance movies you love, your favourite football players and how good your mum’s roast dinners were.

You say you were being friendly, but I think that we both know it was more than that, don’t we? You weren’t thinking about her at that moment, you were thinking of me. You were being more than friendly. You wanted me to know you, and now, I do. You looked at me like you knew we were fated to meet too. I could feel it in my fingertips, pulsing with electricity as yours found mine, and we connected.

You didn’t tell me about Jade. You took me back to your flat, and you made me yours. I’d never belonged to anyone before. I was a daughter of no-one, a lover of no-one, a victim of no-one, just a free, fluttering bird that flew above the world, until you. I had my vices, my playthings, but nothing had ever consumed me quite like you.

Your kiss clung to my lips for days. Grasping and greedy, my lips tingling as you took over my mind, melding with my soul through secret texts and hushed phone calls after midnight.

I called you my movie star. Named after one of the greats and twice as beautiful as Norma Jean. My lover. The keeper of my heart. My movie star, Marilyn.

I couldn’t wait to see you again, collapsing and rising at the thought of you and your hypnotic hold on me. I didn’t have to wait long. I was lost in our love affair, the phone calls and tempting texts, when I bumped into you, dashing and darling, with your arms draped around that bitch.

You blushed, blustering your way through an awkward conversation as you tried to explain that we were friends, shooting me a pleading look that sent me sailing from the stars and I swallowed our secrets, nodding as you told her that we were “just friends”.

I was incensed. Smart enough to stifle the cyclone that was whirling and raging inside of me, but bubbling underneath my skin, feeling the pain pulsing within as I made my excuses and left, tears bursting from my eyes as I turned the corner and was free of your gaze.

Sometimes, I’d wonder if you’d ever understand my pain. It tore me apart. I’d try to forget you, falling back into old fantasies, all the things that used to thrill me, but there was nothing that could compare to you.

I’d stay up all night, sobbing until I choked, helpless on the bedroom floor with a head full of memories.

You had been waiting for me all this time, and she was ruining it, so of course, something had to be done, but what? I assembled all of my favourite friends, surrounded myself with their wise, silent stares, and though they didn’t say a word, I knew exactly what they were suggesting.

It might interest you to know that unlike you, your precious Jade is not quite as promiscuous as you. It was a lot harder to get her home, but I am, as you are learning, quite determined. She kept telling me that I was pretty, but that she just couldn’t be unfaithful. It made me wonder if you really did love her more than me, and that made me all the more determined.

Do you know, it’s much harder than it seems to buy drugs? I did consider that as an option, but the whole plan fell apart when I realised that I knew absolutely no drug dealers. I’m used to intoxicating people with my charms, you see, so this was new territory for me.

Luckily, I made a new friend who had just the thing I needed. He didn’t ask for much in return, just a little something from you, but I honestly think you’ll be better off without it. Isn’t it funny that it’s easier to employ the services of a soul eating monster than it is to get Rohypnol? They call themselves Light Stealers, and I have to say, the name is very accurate.

One look from his stony, black eyes and she was putty in my hands, falling into my arms in silence, ready to be taken home and taken care of. The room was glowing, the air seeming to glitter, but it was like the world went away, and she went limp in my embrace, a little white lip escaping her lips as he captured them in a kiss.

One look at the lights went out in your precious, pretty Jade. I could hardly believe my eyes, and I couldn’t believe that I’d gone to all the trouble of creating my collection without the help of my mysterious new friend. He is a God send and well worth what I’m paying him… or what you’re paying him, I should say.

I carried her home, with a little help from my unusual ally. He was such a polite fellow, called himself Pumpkins. He said he’d be staying for a few days, and I made up the spare room for him. It was the least I could do.

Jade didn’t struggle, and she didn’t cry. She didn’t even scream, she just looked up at the ceiling with a sweet, peaceful smile.

I barely noticed the sound of you knocking on the door, because I was so enchanted by the scarlet that sprang from her skin. Pumpkins answered the door, a wicked smile peeking out from beneath his mask as he beckoned you inside.

You screamed, in delight, I assume, but you were so excitable that you tried to run. We couldn’t allow that, Marilyn. You’d miss out on all the fun we’re going to have! Wouldn’t that be terrible? Pumpkins took just enough from you to keep you still and silent, but he left a little of the sweet shine in your eyes for later.

I continued making up Jade for us. She was okay before, I suppose. A little plain, a little bland, but I made her into a miracle.

Her stomach was like silk, slipping and sliding through my fingers as I dug down into her abdomen. You have to remove these things, you know, otherwise the final product will be a mess, and I take a lot of pride in my work. I wanted her to be our perfect little plaything, and she is, now that I’m finished with her.

Oh, she’s beautiful now. Like a dream, or a devilish fantasy. I can barely resist her, and every few moments as I hold her to my heart, I think that perhaps, she is so beautiful that I could forget you.

That is the true fantasy, my dear. You are unforgettable, but that’s okay, because you’ve decided to stay.

You’ve been such a bad girl, Marilyn, but I believe in second chances. If you behave yourself, I’ll let you join in my game.

I know you can do it. You might have tripped and stumbled before, but the road to true love has never run smooth, darling. I forgive you. I forgive you for all the pain and the heartache, because I can see what you’re becoming. I’m perched on the bed, Jade joining all my other friends behind you, but you, my sweetheart, you are before me, rising from the carpet without a cry as Pumpkins works his magic.

I am a good lover, and I love all my dolls equally, but I must confess, when you are finished, I think I might just love you the most. I think you might just be my favourite. All my playthings are pretty, but never before have I had a living doll, and darling, I’m so glad that it’s you.

Love forever,
The Puppet Mistress

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Lonely Heart

I just didn’t want to be alone anymore. Nobody wants to be alone, do they? I suppose I’m no different to anybody else, but it seemed to consume me. I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I decided that I wouldn’t spend another day of my life by myself.

It had gone on so long. Sometimes, it felt like I was frozen in time, watching everyone else live their lives while I was trapped behind unbreakable glass, never able to find a way through to the world. I wanted love, friendship, even an acquaintance, just somebody to know that I was alive, to care, even, but despite living in the most connected time in history, I had nobody.

If I’d have asked anyone, they’d have told me how dangerous this was, but I didn’t ask. I had nobody to ask but even if I did, I couldn’t risk being talked out of it.

I went to the supermarket, filling my basket with fine wines, chocolate and matches. If the checkout assistant had taken any notice of me, he’d have been a little confused by my strange purchases, maybe even alarmed, but luckily for me, I went unnoticed.

As I walked home, I watched the moon the whole way. She peeked out from behind the silvery clouds, full and fantastical, glowing in the kind of way that made me wonder if she’d been waiting for me to finally pluck up the courage to take the step I’d been considering for all of my life.

I’d always wanted someone to share my life with, someone to belong to, and to care for, but it had never worked out. I started to think that I was cursed, but the truth is, I just had to be brave.

It takes so much strength to put yourself out there. I’d know. I’ve done it over and over, but this will be the last time.

I’ve tried love spells of all types, with absolutely no success. I’d tried capturing the interest of those that I fell for, demanding the one I desired, and then I’d humbled myself, handing over control to the fates, pleading with them to bring me whoever they saw fit, and I’d still come away with nothing.

I’ve tried friendship spells. Spells to improve my looks, to draw people in, to make myself popular. None of it worked, but now, I know why.

He was waiting for me. All of this time, I thought I was alone, but there he was, watching from a distance, waiting for me to make the first move.

I knew what I wanted, and this time, I was certain that the universe would not deny me.

I cleared out my living room, pushing the furniture back towards the walls and covered the floor with all the gifts I could gather. The wine, chocolates and candy, surrounded by candles, lit up in a circle, with me in the centre, knelt in the mix of candle and moonlight as I waited for the clock to strike 3AM.

I began to whisper his name, pouring a glass of wine as the wind began to howl through the open windows. He crept closer. I could feel him beside me as I pierced my finger with a silver blade, wincing as I held it above the wine, my pain soothed as I watched the blood drip down into the glass and glide to the bottom. I called out his name as thunder bellowed from outside and as lightning flashed around the room, and the flames of the candles began to quiver, I felt his hand on mine, and together, we gripped the glass, lifting it to his lips, and then mine, drinking as our eyes met.

“I’m lost.” I whispered, his dark eyes seemed to shine with some kind of sympathy, and he placed the glass down beside him, opening his arms with a smile and a sigh from his blackened, chapped lips. I fell into his embrace, warm among his icy arms as he ran his scaly hands up and down my back, a soft kiss falling to my forehead as I began to cry.

“I know the things you seek, but they come with a price.” He seemed almost sorry to remind me of the terms of the deal I intended to make, but it didn’t matter to me. Something about the softness of his approach let me know that it would be okay. “I always hoped you’d ask me, Georgia.” I felt a chill as he said my name, his hand closing around mine.

“Will it hurt?” He chuckled, brushing my hair from my eyes and gazing down into them, his dark stare, gentle in the moonlight.

“Not for you, no.” He lifted my hand to his lips, gently kissing each lonely finger as the knife found my other hand, nestling in the shaking palm as I stood. “The man across the hall doesn’t have long left anyway.” I nodded, watching him break apart a caramel digestive as he gestured towards the front door of my flat. “I’ll see you soon.” The door flew open, and I walked through, ready to pay my toll at the crossroads, and finally have a friend to call my own, for the rest of my human life, and the eternal damnation that came after.

It was just a choice I had to make. You understand, don’t you? Everyone makes choices, and everyone has pressures. I’m not a bad person. Soon, I won’t even be a person, so, I suppose it won’t matter.

I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Don’t Tell Him Your Name, Spooky Season, Writing

Don’t Tell Him Your Name – Part Two


I know you don’t recognise me. We don’t have time for this.

There is a piece of paper in your coat’s inside pocket. Get it out and look.

Hurry up. Quick! He’s already approaching.

Don’t gawp at me, woman, just get the paper out and look at it! There isn’t time for this.

Okay. I know you think it’s all unbelievable, and none of it makes sense, but we had this conversation yesterday, and the day before. Look at the bottom of the paper. Right at the bottom.

Your husband whispered that sentence to you on your wedding day. Do you remember? Nobody else could hear, it was just for you. You never told a single soul, did you? It isn’t written in your handwriting, is it Zoe? The handwriting looks familiar though, doesn’t it?

Now, listen. He’s already got you in his sights. You can hear his whistle now, can’t you?

I heard it too, for a few days before I met him. First, it was just every now and again, but as he got closer, I’d hear it everywhere, all the time. I’d hear it in my dreams. I’d see the man with a million faces walking closer, and I was frozen. His face seemed to change with every second, and all I could do was wait as he got closer. Do you remember? I stopped sleeping. I tried to avoid him, and those dreams, but by the time you dream, you’re already dead.

It was him. He gets in your head with that little song, and it’s all you hear. You can’t sleep, you can’t focus, it starts to take over your whole life, and just when you think you might be losing your mind, he’ll come along, wearing the face of someone you recognise, and he’ll ask that question.

Are you getting this down Zoe? As soon as I leave, you’ll forget, so you need to make notes.

Please don’t cry, love. We’re running out of time and you need to write this down so you remember, in case I can’t make it back to you tomorrow.

Don’t tell him your name. You’ll feel weak. You won’t be thinking clearly, so you might be about to answer, just because you’re tired and confused, but don’t tell him.

He wants us all. Every single person on this planet, but right now, he’s focused on you, and you have to protect yourself.

I love you, Zoe, and I promise, I’ll try and find you tomorrow.

Just promise me, on our vows, on our daughter’s life that you won’t tell him your name.