Summary: It sparkles; a phantasmagoria of light and darkness, entrancing you, hypnotising you, until you are caught in its spell, then, like a whisper in the night, your soul is gone.

Soul Catcher


Sakina The Fallen Angel



Beware, beware
The dangers of the night
Take care, take care
Always be ready to take flight

Softly, softly with my song
I'll steal into your soul
And without you ever knowing
I'll swallow you whole

Caress me, hold me
I have you hypnotized
Caught in my web
It's too late now you realize

Like a whisper in the night
You're trapped under my spell
Goodnight, my sweet darling
Embrace your one way trip to hell


In a remote and displaced village, far from the reaches of any city, there stood a quaint shop, built from grey stone as old as the very earth itself. The shop was beautiful, belonging to an era long gone, it was now a shell lost in both time and space. When viewing the shop, one could almost imagine the clip-clop of hooves upon the cobblestones, smell the smoke of open stove fires, or breathe the thick atmosphere of aristocratic conspiracy. The shop held no sign, why, one would think that it had long since closed, if not for the oddities still displayed upon the window cabinets.

Empty bottles of romantic poisons, a miniature globe, secret lockets, and poison tipped daggers were but a few of the various items cushioned upon the velvet, and if they were not entrancing enough to draw in the lay passerby, then perhaps the brooding darkness and the ornate wooden door with its polished windowpanes would do so.

The melodious tinkling of the bell, followed by the creaking of the heavy door, signified a potential customer. The shopkeeper peered over from his newspaper to see a little girl, no older than four or five struggling with the door. Swift as the night, he was beside her, holding the door open with a smile. With a squeal, the girl darted in and immediately her eyes began to roam the interiors, drinking in every curiosity the place had to offer.

"Hello Miss," the shopkeeper said, when her eyes finally rested upon his face. "How may I help you?"

"I'm jus' lookin'!" She exclaimed haughtily, throwing her hands on her hips.

"Alright then," the shopkeeper replied. An amused smile graced his lips.

The girl wandered around, pressing her face against glass cabinets, asking the man to explain what every single object was, and with an inclination of his head, he very happily obliged.

"So, what's that feather thing?"

"That, my dear, is a quill pen. The very same quill pen that was laced with poison and used to assassinate the Marquess of Hamilton."

"What about this?"

"The arrow of William Tell."

"And this?"

"Those books are the Necronomicon, Le Grand Grimoire, and the Keys of Solomon. I wouldn't touch them if I were you, dear."

The girl folded her arms on being rebuked, and stuck her nose up towards the ceiling. Shafts of afternoon light fell upon the floor, illuminating the dust motes that spiralled and floated on the air.

Her attention was captured by a sparkling circle that was suspended from the ceiling, behind the shopkeeper's head, next to the candleholder skulls and vials of faerie dust. Threads of light crisscrossed the circle, which twisted and spun, shifting colours like a dream. Beads and feathers hung from the edges, giving the object clarity and weight.

The man turned to see what the girl was admiring, and his lip curved into a thin smile. "I see you are admiring my soul catcher."

"What's a soul catcher?"

"It's like a dream catcher, only instead of catching dreams, it captures souls." For a second, his eyes had become hungry whorls of darkness.

"What's a soul?" Just then, an antique clock struck the hour, and the girl jerked, startled, as if she had just woken from a dream. "Oh, I have to go now, I think my mummy will be looking for me!"

And without another word, she darted back out of the shop. The door slammed, shutting out the noises of the street, leaving the shopkeeper well and truly alone. In the suffocating gloom, the thin smile remained upon the man's lips as he unhooked his soul catcher and twirled the object between his fingers, gazing at the shifting colours with hungry fascination.


Like a whisper in the night
You're trapped under my spell
Goodnight, my sweet darling
Embrace your one way trip to hell


I originally wrote supernatural fiction, before moving into romance, and boy, do I miss this! Thank you to everyone on the Roadhouse, for inspiring me to take up this genre again!

Sakina xxx