Young Writers Society

Hello hello, I just want to say the pacing and sentence length at the start will be very wonky. I didn't want to do a full overhaul of line edits until next draft but I do hear your feedback. As always thank you and have fun reading! 

__________________________________________________________

Her heart stopped beating, and the blood in her veins ran cold. The shock hit her like the mass of shadows that swirled around her limbs. However, it seemed to hold more willpower and haste than her body. A second sob caught in her chest and threatened to choke her. The smell of lilies burned her eyes like incense-filled smoke wafting through an ancient temple. If she could have moved her hands, they would have been curled into a bone-breaking fist. Instead, they sat idly at her side while she tried to crane her head towards the door. Her glare threw daggers sharp enough to stab the knight in shining armour she was forced to await.

“I-I don't understand,” Lilian said, her eyes unmoving.

The voices seemed to shift in intensity before they devolved into jumbled screams. It built like the rising peaks of pain within her skull, as if their tones were trying to crawl out of her skin. For a few long minutes, odd screeches formed half-finished words before one pushed the others down. It filled her ears with a harsh sense of clarity as if spoken into a mic rather than a broken subway speaker.

“Li-li-an, De-mon.”

She got that part, but she wanted to avoid fifty questions on her deathbed.

“Are any of you demons? Is one of you, Callum?”

“N-no Li-lian. “The voices struggled; they caught on the words like a brain trying to vocalize a foreign tongue.

An airy gasp escaped Lilian's mouth, as she attempted to soothe her dry throat. Instead, she sputtered, drawing up spit, although she couldn't adjust or curl over to ease her struggle. The comforting heat that had once sat against her skin had long gone cold, but a part of her nuzzled deep down, craved it. It craved any safety, as if the pulsing never left her screaming nerves.

It wasn't ideal, but at least it was narrowed down.

“Then is a demon doing this? Is there a demon here?”

“Lili-an, N-o demon.”

The voices grew louder, and a clear agitated edge leaked into them as they hit a fever pitch. Whatever English they had gained threatened to slip through her stiff grasp. Dark tendrils of shade seeped from the door frame in sluggish movements, cold and chilling.

Shit … Shit, she wasn't supposed to anger it, whatever it was. Think, Lil, think.

“Uh... okay, okay, am I meant to summon one?”

“Y-e-s.”

She hadn't asked for this living nightmare, but what choice did she have in the matter?

“How—H-how?”

She didn't know how, or was she trying to convince herself she didn't?

A bitter taste hit her tongue like herbal medicine, something raw and hard to wash down. Her breath came in small, uneven bursts as her eyes darted to the dark pile on the ground, a lump of leather and pages eager to whisper in her ears. Moonlight spilled outwards like a path being carved from white stone, beckoning her onward.

“G-o.”

What if she refused? Would she see the morning?

“I can't move. I can't summon anything like this.”

The voices went mute, leaving a small pocket of horrifying silence along with the start of a throbbing pain in her head. Light drifted in a lazy circle before reverting to its original path. It moved in slow sweeps, casting her in a silver sheen like an ethereal mesh. For the first time since that poor dream had died, her fingers let out a dramatic tremble, as if to make a soundless but defiant statement.

Well, would she look at that?

An incredulous laugh filled the room as Lilian shook the stiffness from her hands. Her eyes watched them in a mix of terror and glee while the strange combo twisted in her stomach. She kicked out her legs, letting them hang in the darkness. They twitched in a measured, almost pained way as life returned to them. Her breath crept back into her lungs, much like the shadows that seemed to stalk forward with their featureless faces cocked to the side in confusion. Even without expressions, their stares seemed to burn into her skin.

What little joy that remained died on her lips like a perfumed breath. The coolness of the room stole its place. As if an oppressive dread overtook the rain in the air, and the shivers that fled shredded the dark like cotton. Only for it to return in thick velvet curtains birthed from loathsome, time-stained pages. They drank the colour from her face and replaced it with the gray of her heavy eyes. Despite being wide open, they refused to settle on the book before her. Rather, preferring the strands of light to render her half-blind.

Even if it was for a few seconds, the voices weren't happy, as they forced out a barrage of disdainful hisses. As one died out, another took up the torch. No matter what voice hissed, they held enough force to throw her back into the vinyl.

“Lili-an, Lili-an, demon.”

They were serious about this, weren't they? But why?

“Again, I don't know how to.” The moonlight drew back, returning the odd heaviness to her limbs in place of an answer. “No! No! Fine, I'll read the book, but I need the pages.”

The moonlight stood still, while the voices hummed in high-pitched tones as if the room were pondering her answer. Lilian’s arms sank into her sides while she attempted to grasp anything she could. Almost like she was trying to choke the universe in place of the book that taunted her. When she gave up trying to strangle the air, it took a few long minutes that masqueraded as hours before the moon, as if happy, once again moved.

Her skin glowed as if the light ran through her veins like the path being reformed before her. Something twitched at her heels. The urge to move was made real, and now it forced her up with tense muscles. Her body cried out with every reluctant half-step like her nerves expected the heat already. When her hand curled against the cover, it was closer to a long-gone memory.

Still, the pulse snaked up her arms and sent a chill down her spine as if a wind had been set free. The book pressed to her chest moved on its own accord, at first creaking open. Pages rippled, being pushed further and further by an invisible hand as they turned at a rapid pace. Swirling handwriting and intricate diagrams blended into a jumble of lines that flew past her tired eyes.

Soon the pages slowed into a lax turn before they stopped altogether, as a weathered spread unfolded before her. The smell of wax and candle smoke hugged the pages as a tall humanoid figure was rendered in scratchy red ink. A pair of curled horns peaked out from their temples and a pointed spade-ended tail wrapped around its leg. Written in looping handwriting was the phrase Demons: The Masquarta.

“Call-um. “

Her eyes scanned the text wrapped around the drawing. Tales perfect for tricksters and their mind games filled with shifting appearances promised to play out. All the while, her body moved back to the mundane safety of the couch. Her thoughts were absorbed by what should have been fiction being treated as history. No matter what paragraph she looked at, it held no instructions. Instead, the room swirled with a surreal sense of fear that slipped into paranoia. With every word, reality grew less sane. It blended with Myths in a way that carried a sense of foreboding that wrapped around her like twisting tree roots.

“That still doesn't answer my question…”

A yawn filled the room as exhaustion slipped out from the growing sense of absurdity. It hung around in her glazed-over eyes that refused to register the words before her. Despite being free to move as she pleased, her body swayed with an increasing heft. The pages braced her as she fell forward, her shoulders tensed in a wave of half-thought-out worry preparing for the voices' onslaught. Yet as minutes went on, no answer came, nor did ear-bleeding yelling enter her skull. For a second before the world went dark, the meaning of one passage broke into her hazy state.

“ We are hoping the ability to change will settle them enough so the past might not drive them mad... E might not want to admit it but she holds the guilt of those who had to be put to rest....”

Sleep soon embraced her, returning the world to the loose logic of dreams. At the very least, the tree would watch over her again, 

***************************************************************************************************************

Footsteps echoed off the dark walls. They were calm and clear, unlike the scraping of metal beneath them. As another drawer opened, Lilian let out a confused groan that could only belong to her sleep-scattered brain. Not that this intrusion deterred these calculated footsteps from picking their way through her kitchen. Instead, they got closer to her slumped form, where her face pressed against the open book. At least for now, she was at peace before a few snappy clicks of a lighter broke the silence.

When her eyes fluttered open, all that greeted her was the figureless sight of her living room however, it took time for her to recognize it as such. It took even longer for the sun-kissed frame of a woman to phase her further. Rather; it seemed like a trick of the mind that refused to leave with each blink. All the same, Destiny stood there unbothered as the moonlight danced with the lighter's flame. It would move from her skin onto the pale candle wick, giving the place a hearty glow.

The pearly white wax pooled in the container, as if putting the moon to rest. A few rays of light reached out to grasp her cupped hands. Their soft touch didn't come from the window. Instead, it found a home in Destiny’s empty eye sockets. Hints of powder blues and the normal orange golds shifted in place of her irises. Small shadows followed her sweeping gaze, which held onto some grace despite being a blank milky white.

Oh please, please, please let this have been a dream. For the love of everything, let this have been a horrible, drug-like dream.

Lilian scrambled, attempting to push herself higher onto the couch like a spider set free from a glass. Her back almost merged with the cracks of the beat-up cushions, while her feet slipped and fear created a hard rim around her eyes. Calm as ever, Destiny made a half smile and let out a light laugh as she placed the candle on the table. With every passing second, she seemed more like a trusted friend than a home invader. Anyone would have thought she had been invited for a casual dinner. While flames spun on the table's surface, a puzzled look washed over Lilian before shifting to a strong face-sharpening rage. It was a rage that would die in silence, since dead air came in place of her screams.

“Hello to you too Lil dear, forgive me for the lack of voice but if you can speak, you might not listen,” Destiny said, shaking out the lighter, somewhat hesitant to put it down. “And that would be a shame. After all, I did try to tell you that the book had knowledge.”

Lilian's stare didn't quiver, nor did her anger soften. Instead, it pushed her to shake. Her hands flexed, and her teeth gritted as if eager to choke someone at last. Even her pale lips held tension as they pressed into each other. Destiny watched it all with an impassive gaze as she turned back around, putting distance between the two. Without a word, she slipped the lighter on top of the fridge, safe from angered hands.

Did it matter if it’s only a dream at this point? All of this had started because of her.

She turned the corner as Lilian tried to reclaim her footing before lunging towards her. Destiny pushed her back like a rambunctious child on the verge of a fist-throwing fit, hitting the couch with a soft thud. Lilian took a long vicious breath, before raising a shaking middle finger into the air with a growing smirk.

She hadn't needed words for that.

“That reaction is what I was talking about. It would be easier if you just listened to me for once. “ 

Destiny glided back to her spot as if this was a sick kind of time loop. Neither having an end nor a beginning. As she stared Lilian down, the opalescent tones shifted the closer it got to her gaze. It was unwavering and almost demeaning despite its pupilless nature. Those balls of light placed beneath golden eyelashes felt like an unholy mother chastising her child through quiet anger.

“You, really, are trying to make this harder on us both. “Destiny paused, not daring to look away.” All I ask is for you not to run away from the answers I give you.”

Lilian jolted forward but hesitated to get onto her feet like prey, double-guessing the apex predator. Still, her disagreements lashed at her teeth, unable to escape. Instead, she threw out her arms in a vibrant blur of heated movement that fell on unimpressed eyes. Once again, the smell of lilies was thick in the air as Destiny tapped her foot.

“I don't get it. You used to be so interested in all those rituals and dusty old books. Now it's your waking nightmare, despite you saying it yourself. It was simple then. “

The only reason it’s a nightmare is the Lovecraftian horror that is currently refusing to leave her house.

“Well, I did give you almost everything. A candle, blood and lastly “Destiny held out her hand and snapped. The air swirled before a single piece of white chalk appeared out of nowhere. "Chalk. My dear Lilian, the choice is yours, but I'll leave you a little extra help.”

Destiny, with one last smile, tossed the chalk into a small arch, the flames licking at it as it passed. It landed in Lilian's lap like a stone sinking into a lake's surface.

* * *