Young Writers Society

So it turns out that the rest of the chapter wasn't that long so I took the time today to clean it up a little. This might be very rough as I lost half of chapter two during the writing process thanks to my old computer. I hope it will be passable still. Have fun reading! 

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Her eyes began to hurt as night fell, cloaking her in a lounge of navy blues. Moonlight, however, hadn't leaked out through the window, not yet ready to illuminate the room in a silver cast. The book sat sprawled open. The scent of cinnamon comforted her as she read.

None of this could be real, no matter what anyone told her. This wouldn't be out of place in a horror movie.

She stopped short in the middle of the paragraph, her fingers tracing the letters in disbelief. An odd sense of comedy rose from her stomach into a bottomless, almost strained laugh. It was a sound that bordered on bizarre and alien to her ears.

“In order to bring a demon from their homes into purgatory, one must give Hell blood. Only when a handful of your life force is exchanged can your words reach below. Hold no fear when staining the chalk. The star is meant to guide you. “

Tropes much, this was nothing more than a fantasy writer's crackpot ideas put to paper… she was still too sober for this.

With a tired groan, she stumbled to her feet and shambled towards the kitchen. The wine bottle sat considerably lighter than where it had started a mere day ago and it continued to be eased of its burden as she poured. For a second her gaze lifted to her cabinet where a single clear mason jar peeked out from its home.

They hadn't said where she should get the blood or how much a handful counted as… No; she wasn't entertaining this thought further.

As if to block the thoughts from forming, she snapped back towards the couch like a soldier standing to attention. Wine spilled and beaded onto the floor, perhaps trying to spell out a macabre warning of what was to come if she didn't take care. Moments of the past few days blurred together. Lack of sleep mixed with absurd folklore only made sane through wine seemed to consume her life as of late.

Now all that was missing was that dammed incense in its full foreboding force. Of course, after that, something would get antsy and start moving around. If this went on for one more day, she would officially lose it and that wasn’t counting the possibility she might have already.

While the night fell deeper into darkness, her eyes and mind grew heavy with wine. The more it burned, the more it emboldened the strange world laid bare in front of her to make sense. A part of her stared into the waiting horrors that threatened to make her mad. The world seemed to encourage it at points. Faint hisses and flashes of gold filled the corners of her senses. Yet the dark seemed to slumber, no longer here to hide or hurt her.

Maybe she should slow down on the drinks.

In the back of her head, a fuzziness crept into her thoughts, turning letters into an unreadable mush. The more she read, the more the sentences became runes holding little meaning. Her head blossomed into an ache that stole away any chance to take in information. Even as the wine glass sat half-drunken, it had appeared to take its toll. Perhaps too much, as something stared back at her in the dark, two eyes rendered into slits were coiled in gold. The slim moonlight made them shine an emerald-like hue as it blinked curiously right back at her.

Okay, that was a sign to stop. She was seeing things, or at least living things, this time.

As she got up on shaking feet, those emerald eyes seemed to follow her, its body winding from the glass's stem. In the low light, it shone like a river of gold darting between the spaces of her steps. Turns and twists seemed to become effortless as it slid just behind Lilian, studying her as she debated changing into nightwear before slamming into her bed like a long jumper.

It felt like it’s been way too long since she fell asleep on her bed. To be honest, everything felt like a week ago, at least.

The sheets hugged her like a chalk outline of a body as she lay on her back, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. It was chipped and peeled, a bit of brown grew around the corner of the room, but a sense of nostalgia crashed into her. Whispered conversations about what ifs and half-asleep rambles seemed to carry through the room, hitting her like a wind. A pressure formed on her lips, the memory of a goodnight kiss.

Even with all this space, the bed felt empty and far too small as a chill fell over her. Once these sheets had smelled of perfume and spices alive with the comfortable heat of another person snug against her skin. Now it smelled of gentle soaps and fresh linens. Safe, simple, unoffensive, yet a husk of what life had been. Her arms wrapped around a pillow, trying to will away the lumps and lack of limbs for the sake of a vaguely human shape.

It wasn't her fault; she couldn't make others’ choices for them, but maybe if she tried harder.

Those words sounded hollow to her, unconvincing despite the fact she indeed said them. Her body sank into the sheets as she turned, her eyes closed in a slow process. A flicker of gold rushed through the edge of her sight before sleep overtook her. Faint pricks of cold and a light-shifting weight melted into her dreams.

She was shaken from her dreams bit by bit, and when consciousness returned to her, the feeling of metal welcomed her. It was nudged against her chin, becoming a lukewarm pressure that seemed to rise and fall with captured breaths. A confused, airy noise came from her as her eyes, too, shook off the shallow sleep, only to become more strangled. Staring back at her were those emerald eyes as they idly blinked, cocking a very snake-like head. With a sharp breath, she pulled back, her nerves going on full alert as if being stabbed by a needle. More gold slithered closer, and scales that looked painted on moved with their curves like liquid. Its eyes were cut and polished emeralds split in half with deep slit-like cracks, creating a stark, strange contrast. A creature not quite living or feasible as it moved, taking in breaths between fangs, all of it gilded.

Was this a strange dream inside a dream, or was this living jewelry?

Fear struck her in drips at first, slowly, before it pounded against her chest like a swinging hammer. Her hands grabbed the sheets in fists, her fingers digging trenches into her palms. Yet the snake didn't move other than the twists and turns of its head, posing a silent question. With a hesitant swallow, she reached towards the snake, pressing a single shaking finger to what would be its nose. A cold, hard surface that felt smooth against her finger without the heat of life stored away in it.

The snake shook its head in what seemed like a mix of annoyance and playfulness before it pulled away. With a soft hiss, it turned tail flowing off the bed and onto the floor, looking oddly tiny compared to the room. Lilian watched it go, her mind whirling as her jaw dropped in an explosion of shock mixed with utter confusion. Her mouth tried to form a series of words, but her voice refused to comply as she kicked her legs over the edge.

It was alive, but how? Why? That's scientifically impossible… and the better question was, why would she want to follow it?

That's what she was toying with by the time she made it to the door. Her figure was ruffled and wrinkled by sleep as she scoped out the space between the two rooms looking for any glint of gold. An occasional tail or end of a hiss would hit her ears and be caught in the corner of her eye. It made her go in small circles or push tables and chairs out of the way. It was like a small child playing a coy game of hide and seek. Regardless, these were not the actions of a scared wild animal lashing out or a desperate ploy to flee from a lumbering human. Instead, it was calculated almost human-like.

It was so odd. Whatever this thing was happened to be a bit too smart for her liking.

By the midpoint of her chase, a space bloomed in the middle of her living room. Furniture was pushed aside thanks to smears of gold that bobbed and weaved. Taunting hisses and simple, almost mocking turns of its head broke up the cycle as she ran. Lilian's breath came out in puffs the longer she went.

“Okay, you can't hide forever. You need to come out!” Lilian called to the snake, which was pinned against the back of the couch.

Her knees ached from all the lugging, tugging, and crouching she did out of morbid curiosity. Lilian threw her hands to her sides in a grandiose show of frustration, waiting for either the snake or some unseen universal guide to hear her plea. She leaned against the couch that edged dangerously close to the door, earning a long annoyed hiss from within it.

Ugh, it was like dealing with a child she didn't make. She was gaining a new respect for her parents' hell; they were the ones that made her.

Gold streaked against the hardwood floor in a glittering rush, looking like the prettiest bullet to be fired from a gun. A loud, almost victorious hiss accompanied it before Lilian stumbled after the creature in half-hazarded steps. With the little light that leaked through her window, it appeared to be more like a ghostly chase. The emeralds caught the light, reflecting splatters of green that moved in and out of visibility. In a way, it was breathtaking. In others, it seemed more like an ill, unkempt girl chasing after two almost spiritual-like orbs until the late hours of the night.

Their movements traced a star pattern in a smooth dance-like motion with an unnerving ease. It bent and flowed like a golden pen, illustrating an occult picture using the open space as a primed canvas. Her eyes darted from point to point with an increasing speed, leaving her spinning in the center. Once another round of tracing had finished, the snake seemed to disappear out of thin air.

And she was back to seeing things, it seemed...

She stared at the space in front of her, a bit of dazed confusion overtaking her face. The sound of rain against the window filled the room as if to soothe her mind. It felt like white noise in an increasingly shrinking room used as a pit stop for all manners of paranormal passers-byes. All of this might bend even a steady mind into a sense of numbness. Yet standing there in the middle of the semi-darkness, her mind teetered into further disbelief, all while a piece of chalk in some twisted game hit her feet.

Her door began to click as a key entered into the lock. After a long fight with the doorknob, it crept open with a rattly creak.