Author: Mistress Jakira PM
One of my more recent works, it involves demons and one girl's past. To say any more would give it away! T for being somewhat graphic...well, nothing small children should be thinking about. Beware religious elements!Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Angst - Words: 1,573 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 03-06-02 - id: 642146
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
wrenched at Tori's heart once again. She had only cast him a glance—it
had been nothing, it had meant nothing! But now, as he lay in a growing
pool of blood, Tori cried out in her heart. Her face remained stern,
however—she was used to this, after all. It always happened.
Each time she looked at someone, anyone, with anything but indifference
in her eyes, this happened. She was a teenage girl; hadn't she the
right? The wretched demons were only having fun with her now, and
it tore her apart. It was horrifying. There was no other word
for it: horrifying.
She didn't even know his name. Who was he? There was no way to know, and little she could do in such a case. Tori knelt down beside the boy's lifeless body, her knees crunching the leaves on the forest floor. She turned his head over, grimacing as she saw the other side of his face, drowned in his own blood. She wiped it away with her long black shirt sleeve until she found the wound—it hadn't been hard to see, as a gash of that size never could be. Somehow his throat had been slit diagonally down from the right cheek to the shoulder blade, a purposely jagged cut. It had been an agonizing death, but undoubtedly quick, Tori could tell. She took in a sharp breath and blinked back tears of guilt. She should've considered the consequences before she ventured even to go out into the public, she shouldn't have followed the boy onto this old, dark forest path. His death was unnecessary, and it was her fault.
Tori fought back another surge of tears as she ran over the fact in her head: her fault. No, it hadn't been her fault! It was her father's fault—she hadn't asked for any of this! Her blood boiled at the thought of her father, the evil man that he was. Man...ha, she scoffed inwardly. Her father was no man. He was a demon in the most literal sense of the word, he was the most vile of all creatures, a servant of Satan himself. And Tori's veins were half filled with his unholy blood.
At her own mental suggestion of the word blood, Tori's eyes focused back to the boy lying on the floor. She looked at him closely—dusty brown hair, dark eyes half-opened, devoid of all the shine they must've borne in life. His pale skin and plain clothes were stained terribly with a thick crimson wave that had so suddenly engulfed his entire body. Tori's expression remained emotionless, but within the confines of her heart she grieved the stranger's loss. If it weren't for her... she bit her lip. She would not think that way. She was the world's last hope for survival. She could not think that way.
Tori stirred from her sorrow at a nearby noise. She whipped around at the whoosh sound to see a living shadow materialize before her, in its human-like head a pair of solid red eyes, the very color of which billowed like smoke within the voids of its skull. Tori's tears were left unguarded as her anger caused her to forget blinking them away. She stood up, eyes narrowed, a growl settling in her furious low-pitched voice.
"You did this," she accused. "You did this!!" Tori screamed viciously at the menacing creature that hovered above the ground ominously. She clenched her sweating hands into fists, gritting her teeth as she fought her bubbling rage. The black figure said nothing and made no sound, did not respond at all. Tori let out a despairing cry and threw a punch straight toward the glowing red eyes of the creature, but in vain—her hand passed through the shadow, leaving an empty space where her arm had cut through. The smoky, distorted image of the demonic shadow rebuilt its antibody perfectly, undoing the gap in itself, and Tori's frustration rose sharply. She trembled with rage, and a green-tinted Japanese kanji appeared on her forehead, flashing off and on as she shook. Her long, feathery brown hair cascaded down her back, and a mysterious wind picked it up off her shoulders. A low rumble of thunder was heard, despite that it was a clear, cloudless day, and within the blink of an eye a thin layer of tight-fitting armor had all of a sudden covered her body—her sub-armor. The first layer was black; the second, with the arm guards, shin guards, and torso plates, was a deep shade of green. It matched her eyes, their fiery green glowing luridly behind a smoky cloud of black that seemed to shroud her vision. The shadow laughed.
"What are you planning to do about it, Toralyn?" he taunted, his voice in a serpentine hiss that sent shivers down Tori's spine. "This is merely an illusion, simply a picture of my true self. You couldn't take it out on me, even if you tried. Just give in, Toralyn. Give us your armor, surrender to our power—you are a single warrior, you can do nothing to stop us. You couldn't even if your blood had been made purely evil." At this Tori cried out.
"Do you think I care!? I almost thought you'd have it through your thick damned heads by now that I'll never yield to your evil! After what your minion did to my mother, I could never let it pass. I'll never forgive you for that, or for any of the havoc you've wreaked on the Earth, not until Judgment Day—and even then I will laugh beside my God as you—all of you!—burn in the fire from which you came." Tori scowled, and lashed out with a long whip that came out of nowhere. Again the form of the shadow came back together just as a cloud of steam, seeming to waft back into its original shape. Tori began to cry, and the shadow's demonic, snakelike laughter rang out once more. His image faded into the air, becoming less and less tangible until at last it vanished completely. Tears streamed down Tori's face slowly, and she dropped to her knees as her sub-armor reverted back to her normal clothes—her simple jeans and long-sleeved shirt. Her two silver bracelets clanged together as her hands hit the leaf-laden earth, her left fingertips landing at the very edge of the scarlet puddle surrounding the victim of the demon's attack. She let out another despairing cry uncontrollably, and suddenly was silent.
"I'm sorry," she whispered inaudibly through her strangled voice, "I'm sorry." Her tears still flowed as she carefully took off her fine golden necklace. As her eyes flooded she clenched them tightly, and grasped the small, expertly crafted pendant in the center of the chain—the crucifix, with the figure of Jesus Christ spread out against it, a grimace of sacrificial pain on his small and yet highly defined face. She picked up the boy's limp hands, and in them placed the cross, fighting back her tears as she locked his fingers together around the golden charm and set them on his chest respectfully.
"Save him," Tori pleaded to the sky, holding up her head and closing her tear-scathed green eyes. She gasped at the sound of a voice and stood up. It was a girl, a woman, perhaps. Tori listened as she raised her voice to its peak volume, calling out what must've been the boy's name. Tori cried for the woman, for she didn't know the tragedy she would soon face. With one last heartful apology, Tori ran away, the blood on her fingernails and the memory burned into her soul the only evidence that she had ever been to that dreadful place.
Disclaimer: I OWN EVERYTHING!!!! *grin* I never get to say that! And it's true, too.
Author's Notes: When I get around to writing/uploading more, you're going to know this character inside and out. I write about her a lot--sometimes as an independent story, sometimes as a Yoroiden Samurai Troopers fic--of course, that's where I first got the idea, so it's only natural. Anyway, expect to see her a lot, and I guess that's it. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Remember--if you've got something to say, review! I love to hear what you think. (Who doesn't like reviews? ^_~) Thanks again! ~Mistress Jakira