Demons ▪︎ Charlie Stoker ▪︎

▪︎ Introduction ▪︎

The wind was gentle. A soft breeze that blew through Cora's long locks of chocolate brown hair. She smiled to herself as she sat on the freshly cut grass with her open sketch book resting in her lap and a pencil firmly held between her thumb and forefinger. She tilted her head with her perfectly plucked brows dipping in concentration and her soft green eyes flicking up to study her sister's facial features.

The pencil moved with grace and precision along the white paper, creating the outlines of the girl sat opposite her. "You haven't looked yet." Her sister spoke thoughtfully, tipping her head up to look at Cora, who simply nodded affirmatively. "Why?" She pressed the young woman further, confused as to why Cora hadn't searched for her annual gift.

Cora paused for a moment, tilting her head up and looking at her sister with a short shrug offered. The truth was, she didn't enjoy receiving gifts, even when the gift remained the same every year. She disliked it almost as much as being touched or having attention thrust upon her. It was unnecessary.

"I can help you look if you'd like." Her half-sister, India, offered with a small smile.

"Okay," Cora reluctantly mumbled while closing her sketch book and tucking it into her satchel along with her pencil.

The two girls stood simultaneously, dusting their night gowns free of the stray grass strands that had stuck stubbornly to the cotton fabric. Then, once they were content that all had been removed, India reached out and curled her fingers lightly around her older sister's hand. She offered her a small smile as she pulled her along through the large garden of their family home, searching the grounds for that familiar white box wrapped in red ribbon.

They searched high and low; behind the large concrete spheres that decorated the area in front of the house to the greenhouse at the back of their garden. Finally, they reached their favourite tree. It was old, near ancient, with many details etched into the large oak tree trunk.

However, on the nearest branch to them, a white box wrapped with rich red ribbon sat untouched with a card taped to the top of it. Cora exhaled quietly at the excitement in her sister's soft eyes, aware that she would now be forced to hand over her beloved satchel in order to climb the tree.

"Satchel," her sister requested with an extended hand and a small smile that grew when Cora did as told.

The quiet brunette stepped forward towards the large tree hesitantly. She tilted her head back to look up at its many branches and leaves, studying the way they flowed and rustled in the light wind. It was captivating and serene. So, after a moment of appreciating nature and its beauty, she lifted her foot and arms, gripping onto the thick branch and pulling herself to sit atop it with her legs dangling either side of it.

Happy birthday. The card atop the box read in thick black cursive. It was the same handwriting every year, which Cora found comfort in. She ran her hand along the top of the box lightly, enjoying the feel of it beneath her fingertips before she wrapped her fingers around its edges and lifted the lid free of it.

The moment she did, a smile lifted on her lips, and a spark reflected in her eyes. Within the box, below the many tissue papers layered within to protect her gift, lay a pair of black shoes and an old key. The shoes, though simple, were Cora's favourite style. In fact, they were exact replica's of the ones she currently wore on her feet. They were just a size up to fit her.

"India! Cora!" Their mother rather suddenly called out as she came rushing out of their oversized house with fresh tears falling down her reddening cheeks.

The two siblings frowned in unison, sharing a confused look before Cora turned on the branch, and with her boxed gifts in hand, she leapt to the grassy ground below. She landed beside India with a slight stumble, awkwardly smiling with mild embarrassment as she reached out to take her satchel from the younger girl to wrap it around her shoulder so the strap rested across her torso.

Then, together, they jogged to their hysterical mother, who had taken to wailing while falling to her knees. The pair stopped short of the red-haired woman, looking down at her for some sort of explanation for her dramatic behaviour.

Unfortunately, when their mother looked up and calmed herself enough to speak and explain herself. Their world shattered, and their hearts twisted painfully.

"It's your father... he... he's dead."

•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•