Warning: gore, violence, torture, supernatural beings

Again, enter at your own risk. 

2. Debt

I don't want your damn pity Rotelee, just give me the bottle." The night is growing established, as is my temper.

"You do realize what this means, correct? You might as well say it and be rid of grasping innocence of the matter for it is not with you." He continues to lecture me, as if he has the right to order me of what I must and must not do. The bottle itself is harmless…

But oh, the things I plan to do with its contents this night. Any fool that could truly look into my soul with discerning eyes could see that it matters not to me whether I do wrong. I rule the lives of those I pass with this concoction; steal the role of the fates and decide who has the right to suffer and live or succumb to death. As for Rotelee, he proves a sorry servant for the hands of darkness, speaking of morals and such things.

"But do you realize that you are a hypocrite and a fool to be speaking in such manner? You who pedals this thing to me in the dark of the night." I ruffle my voice in mock to soothe my anger.

"It is you who are the fool. You know very well that I am bound by oath. One day your foolish games will get you the attention of those that no matter of petty oaths of service can save you from. I'd rather not be involved and this is why I tell you to hark unto my warning, and stop this murderous folly. You will surely be punished as I have taken breath this day."

Shaking my head in contempt for his unwanted words, I snatch the bottle away from him and sniff the residue of the contents on the rim of the cork hindering spillage.

Sweet as honey or the product of springs first blooms, sure to attract with its pleasantries every kind of thing. This though, does not provide the consumer with the pleasure fresh tenderness of blooms or the impeding effect of honey's thickened flavor, but the sweet mellow song of death in all of its glory.

So from house to house I go, spinning tale to my victims of wishes fulfilled, and riches granted with only a taste of this luscious mix. Seducing them to the tragedy of death, for the nourishing satisfaction of watching them die; slow or fast, I let the potion surprise me.

Out of the veil of the forest shadows I go, to greet travelers and their bonfire that dances the dance of meager light for them.

"Surely you would want to warm yourselves in the refuge of a house; to keep the wind from making the heat of your fire vain." My festival begins.

Weary, the travelers look up at me to see what I'm about.

"We would want a lot of things, if we had the means. Now we are content with what little comforts we have." The traveler takes the shape of a withered old man with watery aged eyes and a head full of wispy tattered hair.

The group of them of that old man once spoke of, another two men in there prime and a boy coming of age. In my mind I drool for the entertainment they will bring.

"A man dressed as you are can either be here to help us or mock us. If you are here to cause a ruckus, then you have come in vanity for, we are at peace with our tempers."

Fool. No one is at true peace with their tempers, lest they be stupid. I will most definitely enjoy their demise.

"Perish the thought! I am here to grant you whatever you desire. What is it that you want most? You shall surely have it. What about you young man? A maiden fair? Strength? Power? A kingdom to rule? The possibilities are endless for your quartet of traveling people." Slowing, enticingly I draw them into the web of dreams that aims to snag them for a ride.

The young man looks excited at the offer, opening his mouth to speak, but the man next to him steadies him and speaks.

"Explain man; for these kinds of offers never come with out a price. Mischief glints inside your eye, and makes me cautious." The man wears a stony look of philosophy, eyeing my every move carefully.

"Forget his thoughtless accusations; I will gladly tell you what I want. I want a nice house with an abundance of servants and wealth." The second man says, with a greedy smile. Giving the boy a thoughtful stare, I prompt him with my gaze for his answer.

"I want two swords that never dull." I nod in agreement to his choice. The oldest man chimes in with a thoughtful tone.

"I just want my little daughter to be safe always. For that I would pay any price."…how disgustingly noble. I should flip him a coin for pity's sake.

The other man who doubted me gives me a hard stare before finally answering.

"…Your head, if their wishes aren't granted. And I want your supernatural oath on it." As if the deities would be concerned with a nobody like myself. Grinning, I take my dagger and make a crossing gesture over my heart breaking cloth and skin for theatrics sake.

"All you have to do is drink from this bottle. That isn't so harsh, now is it?" the bottle uncorks with the urges of my hand as I speak, making a playful popping sound. Pushing the others out of his way, the greediest man jumps in front and snatches the bottle away from me taking a swig of the sweet smelling liquid. The youngest gingerly takes the bottles and drinks it as politely as one would communion wine. The older man isn't quite so eager, but drinks anyway. Still doubtful, the wisest one doesn't drink but only looks a me holding the bottle with utter contempt.

"Do you not fear you own demise? For just as I assumed of you, this potion is poison." I tire of his incredulous looks. I think it is high time they came to an end. Tossing my dagger into his throat with a satisfactory display of blood works, I turn to my other victims, cursing him for stealing my first glances of the beginning of their agonies.

The effects of course, are immediate as they start to convulse and shriek for the burning in their veins. Their skin bubbles and melts off there muscles like thin caramel from a spoon; more painful though, I assure you. Dancing the stifled movements of lethal pain, they throw themselves to the ground, twisting energetically. Skin and muscles now drip towards the dirt, stretching ever so thin across the bone, like a horrible living, screaming painting confounded to haunt he fire. Only one thing was unsatisfying about the very scenario of suffering;

There were only two convulsing to their death in mangled spectrums. The boy catches my gaze and just stares at me, not even a hint to what he's feeling.

But…but, that's absurd! No human can with stand this! I don't and won't believe it! Only demons can withstand this, as it is their medicine, a vile brew.

Demon's medicine…

Fear restricting my muscles, I painstakingly risk another look at the boy. The thing that was once wholly the boy is now some changing thing that took advantage of my daze to travel so close in front of me, I would have to be in a daze not to notice. His grin so wide it looks like his head is splitting, gaping jagged danger like teeth as he changes into something that is sure to be fowl. With haste I turn to run, but any fool knows this beast is too quick for my escape, even in the state of changing. Grasping my neck easily, he holds me high above the ground as his body makes its last grotesque changes. Shaking, I look over this new thing that has overtaken the young human man. In its fore head another triplet eye looks upon me in constant jest. His skin has changed to a murky grey, flecked with hell's ancient script. From head to foot he is rigged with sliced wounds that constantly bleed without his notice. All of these things no longer housed in the scrawny figure of the boy, but the massive figure you would expect of a powerful demon from the lowest part of hell. Now the two previous eyes have dissolved, the contents spilling like boiling water on my face hissing their fury. The pain grips like hundreds of needles pricking to damage lethally. Screaming sporadically, I look up to see what this thing wants of me. The gaping void of the sockets glares down at me pitiful figure, tears of blood flowing heartily.

"My wish." He still wants it? Surely he knows I couldn't provide him with it. What can I do to satisfy him?

"You should already realize that I can't grant you that." I must think more quickly…

"Fool. You get me I want now. Die….angry." spitting drool hotter than his melting eyes, I wince under it. Things are starting to fold into my likening. This beast can manage to hold his humanity only a little while longer.

"I gave you that medicine. I granted you life, and now you are in eternal debt to me. Put me down." As I speak, I see confusion settle into his features.

"Don't folly so! Put me down at once, you will do as I say!" to tame a witless monster is simple, yet the risk still stands prompt.

You think I am a 'witless monster' to be tamed?

A crude voice scrapes loudly at my skull like a head ache, with a grating, evil sounding shriek. It…can hear my thoughts?

I can. Fool. You should have listened to the warning; you are no longer in mortal hands. I suppose I should be thanking you for being 'witless' enough to play with hell fire. You lifted the curse placed on my head, but you broke an oath to those above me. If you are granted mercy, you will die.

What!?! I can't! You are in debt to me!

It is you who is in debt, four fold, and it is you who will be held accountable. The mistress of these lands is very angry. It is she who will decide your fate.

The fate of me? It is I who should be in control of the fates! One mistake and the power of pain is lost from my grasp and handed to another.

Yours, it was not, nor ever will be. You mortals will never learn that ability to inflict true suffering is due only to one who has suffered. I will enjoy your demise, whatever it may be.

Further and further the main roads drifts off, my head continues to fill with blood as it presses against all sides of my head; it may very well explode, lest I choke to death first. The smell of crisp lake water is the only thing that seems to be reliving even a little of my pain, but feelings of doom still approach.

Rusalka; admission into your court?

Tendrils of water begin to circle the demons ankles, urging him forward.

"Granted. I see you have the offender." Slow yet sure, the voice drips into hearing ears like the very water we look into, the water itself forming the owner of the sweet yet horrible voice.

"You can kill all the mortals you deem fit. You can slaughter infants for all I care- but you never swear an oath of all our kind and break it. You cast this very race to the dogs, and that shall not be forgiven," the water stills into the form of a mouthless woman with a third arm sticking grotesquely out of her chest, in permanent gesture of clasping its bony claw like hand around the throat.

"Yet you have offended us four times in this way. I will not dilly dally with added punishment, fool. I will merely make you pay what you owe." Her voice is airy and low, with an under layer of many other voices that sound like the shrieking of women and girls that make your bones feel parched.

"How can I? I have none of those things! Mercy! Had I known, I would not have treaded!" surely she must see that I did not know!

"All creatures can say that, but that does not undo what has been done. It is quite sad to see you afraid of what you serve out so regularly. Nary it matter- you debts will be paid." As she says this to me, her main voice gets lower and harsh and the sister voices begin to howl and shriek louder making my eyes tear with the noise.

The demon casts me to the mud and I look up quickly to my accuser, but can not find anything to say in my own defense. I shall have to run!

But my body becomes paralyzed with the very thought.

My eyes are frozen open as a knife forms from the water into the woman's right hand, glinting and sharp.

"Your head, for it is not you granting their wishes, but me forcing them out of you." She raises her arm, eyes glowing under the weapon caught moon light.

"NO! I don't want to die-!" I scream as I hear the whistle of the knife come for me.

A sickening glop and crunch sounds as the knife severs both flesh and bone. The stinging and itching of both sides of my neck wounds burn unbearably, my sight blurrs yet my eyes stay open, even bloodshot. I haven't died…

I still feel the sting, as blood hisses out of my neck and into my hair. The woman smirks at my twitching form and continues.

"Your thigh bones will be sharpened and then hexed so that they will never dull. Young one, you may separate what is yours. I shall have them fashioned for you."

The demon's face breaks in half again with a smile as he bends down to my living corpse to do his deed.

I feel my legs being torn apart, with sluggish slurping sounds, as if a lady was tearing her bodice in the middle of a swamp. The pain itself tears open into a raging sore that burns like the hell this creature came from.

Even when my flesh is ripped off, I can still feel it stinging with the taint of the dirt on the ground. I can not scream though; all I can hear is the complete butchery of both my legs. It would have been more merciful in death.

The demon is done, handing the bloody, flesh dripping bones to the woman, who holds them like stick off a tree.

"You're closest friend shall be slaughtered with all of his inheritors, his possession will be placed under the name of the man you owe and given to his family."

No…it should have gone to me!

"Silence. The girl will be protected. Your headless soul shall ever hover over her, until she dies. Any harm that is do to come her way, you shall endure in her stead. She will not be harmed. I will watch your body rot until some one with a heart comes to bury you. That is your owed payment; may no more be as foolish as you."

My spirit is finally released into a numb specter, my surroundings no longer the forest…

But a room, where a small bed sits, and a small body with head of brown hair rest peacefully. My neck begins to sting most painfully, as I realize there is another presence in the room. A thief hovers over the child sliding a knife across the child's throat again, and again, wondering why the child sleeps unscathed.

But my mind screams as the cuts in my neck get deeper and deeper.

The thief runs the way he came, in fear of hexes, but I lay on the floor pooled in my personal blood, regretting…

Hell fire is a dangerous brew…

And torturous debt to pay.


Yay! First finished story! I had a case of writers block for curse be.

Today's lesson- don't play with fire…esp. hell's.