A Writing Promt for the FPSSA Season Four.

You can either write a short story or a poem where the main character is going to curse someone. You can choose what type of curse it is (evil, love, prank, and exc.). Here are the words that need to be in the story/poem (the words can in plural form): Fire, Full Moon, Poison, Wing.

A cigarette balances in-between her swollen lips, her eyes tipped down towards the dark pavement, “Take that fucking gun out of your pants Tommy.” A man standing in the shadows across from her quickly stands alert, his hand reaching around towards the waist of his pants. She smirks, the cigarette bouncing slightly; only the embers can be seen in this darkness. Everything is cloaked in darkness, there is nothing to been seen, not that they would want to see what was lying at their feet.

“What’s up Kat? There something you ain’t telling me?” The man’s figure moves slightly, the shape of his head disappearing as he takes a step back. She smiles, her head dipping into the moon light, her golden curls reflecting against the beams. The light reflects her sinister lips, her apple shaped face spattered with blood. The man appears silent, his hand stretching out the gun.

She takes it with no regard, stalking off without this shadow of a man. With few long strides she is in the middle of the street, the light of the full moon guiding her way. Tommy’s gun is now safely tucked into the back of her black leather pants, revealing the thin red string of her undergarments.

It’s now a little past two in the morning; the sun will be up soon. This woman’s eyes are growing darker, her vision sharp with rage. The blood on her skin, on her hands, it will not wash away. Her clothing is stained redder than the river Styx; yet this thought makes her smile, for now her clothing matches her soul.

She marches down the street, her eyes focused on her target, a large dark building with darkened windows. The building is wrapped in a fog, eyes watching all below. A gargoyle is standing upon every open crevasse, their large wings spanning the skyline. Behind them the moon hides among the clouds, leaving the woman in darkness.

“Here is where I have been laid to rest,” she whispers as she steps onto the stairs leading to the entrance, her eyes now glowing red. The cigarette has shrunk greatly in size, only the butt resting in her mouth. Quickly it is replaced by a new one, a sliver of a flame lighting the end. “Just looking at this place sets my soul on fire.” She has to shake off the feeling of guilt; else her soul will never be free. An image of a piece of paper flashes through her mind, the sight of her signature on the bottom makes her sick with guilt.

“You can’t just walk away,” she muttered with distaste. She spits on the steps, walking forward with her head high.

There is no one inside this building, there are no lights, and electricity is out of the question. Down one hall an elevator remains still, she doesn’t even bother trying. Instead she heads for the stairs. Tilting her head back she stares calmly up the sixty odd stories, the smoke of the cigarette rising farther than she can see.

She does not rush upward; she takes her time, step by step. There is no noise from her heavy steps, the silence echoes throughout the air.

When she reaches the top she doesn’t enter the floor right away; instead, she leans against the stairwell exit and lets out a heavy sigh. Smoke billows from her mouth, her soul now on fire. “When you’re this close to hell, it gets hard to breath,” she growls, wiping her sweaty hands on her black leather pants. In the motion she grasps the gun with her left hand, reaching for the door with the right.

The floor is empty, much like the rest of the building. The woman walked down the hall, her eyes scanning the darkness for anything. She was close; she could feel it in her veins, the blood pumping with fire. It consumed her heart, the pulse tight.

A door appeared, the light of the moon splashed under it, calling her. She moved cautiously, fear finally settling into her bones. With an attempt to keep her strength, she held her head high. The door flew open with a kick of her boot, the hinges breaking from the sudden force. Empty.

Empty! Yes, there was no one in the room, leaving the woman stunned. She stumbled in, gun raised. A cherry desk sat before a wall of glass revealing the night sky. Frustration ran through the course of her body, she fired a shot off, the window shattering into a river of ice.

“Temper, temper,” came a voice from behind.

She turned on her heels, her gun leveled to a darkened shadow’s head. A man stepped forward, a paper held in his hand. She shook her head, stepping backward. In the light the man stood, his golden hair glowing; he appeared well dressed, a fine suit, Armani perhaps. Like this woman, he wore eyes of red, yet there was no trace of emotion inside those crystal orbs.

She fired the gun, the bullet grazing the man’s shoulder. Blood spattered about them, the man’s face speckled in the substance. “You know why I’m here!” she screamed, firing another bullet which hit him just above the heart.

He shook his head, unaffected by the wound. “My little Katharine, of course I know why you’re here! I just do not understand why you still fight it! Have you not enjoyed what I have given you?” His eyes were narrow, his focus on this woman. The two stood there, frozen; it seemed as though time had stopped.

She broke first, her head shaking as she took several more steps back, the wind rushing in from the open window. “You didn’t tell me of what I would become! You didn’t fulfill your half of the promise! I curse you devil, I hope your soul burns an eternity in the fires of Hades! Let your blood boil with poison, let a thousand demons rip apart your body until you can no longer recognize your own self. I pray you no salvation.”

With a look of distaste, the man lets the paper in his hand combust into flames. The burning pages flutter to the floor as though they were butterflies. “Pray tell, what can you do to cause me harm?”

The woman smirked, her feet balancing on the edge of the broken window. “That is exactly what I have done.”

His face whitened for a moment, yet he laughed it off. The darkness seemed to grow around him, the shadows moving with his steps. “So he has taken you back after you’ve betrayed him? And you think he will save you little Katharine?” He is smirking, thinking this of nothing but a joke.

The wind blows in, almost tipping the poor woman back into the darkness. The sun will rise soon; the horizon is glowing, promising the inevitable. She smirks, her hand opening to let the gun fall. The small black metal object tumbles through the air, becoming nothing but a speck. There’s no sign of it landing, but by the law of gravity it must be on the ground by now.

“Go ahead and jump, you are already mine. Killing yourself will change nothing.”

There is a fear in his voice; even he is beginning to doubt his own words now. The woman smiles and pulls out another cigarette. She plays with the lighter, her fingers dancing over the fire, turning black with heat. The dark smell of the cigarette burns through their nostrils, their lungs on fire. “I know this,” she speaks softly; her eyes are filled with joy.

“Then why?” His voice is a strangled cry, confused like a new born.

She looks out the window, her hair getting caught in the cold wind. “Do you think I will sprout wings?”

“You’re no angel babe,” he sighed out. He moved to grab her but she had already leaped. Her entire body fanned out in the air, her hair behind her in a whirlwind of chaos. There was elegance to her, freedom of which she had no felt before, of which he could not comprehend.

She knew she was no angel, she knew she would never be. With a drag on her cigarette she let the cancer spread, let the darkness consume her soul. He would come for her eventually, he would extract revenge for the pawns she had placed into action, but until then, she would wait in the darkness, letting her tormented soul be ripped to shreds. She only wished she’d be there when they found him, to see him be cast to hell once more.

Her eyes closed before she hit the ground, glad she was already dead as to not feel the pain of dying once more.