❝Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn into poetry. All the blood was never once beautiful, it was just red.❞
A story of a half breed, half human half demon, that walked the earth hated. She learned of selfishness and blood lust far soo...
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The dimly lit basement of the church was a place of shadows and secrets. In the far corner, hidden from the world above, was a makeshift cage, constructed from old iron bars and worn wooden planks. It was here that the half-breed girl spent her days and nights, confined to a small, cold space that was both her prison and her refuge.
She was young then, her understanding of the world limited to the confines of this dark cellar. The only other occupant of this dismal place was a young boy, his features blurred in her memory, but his presence unmistakable. They shared a bond forged in the crucible of their captivity, finding solace in each other's company amid the surrounding despair.
"Do you think they'll ever let us out?" she asked one evening, her voice a soft whisper in the silence. Her eyes, wide and innocent, reflected the dim light of a single, flickering candle.
The boy, his face a hazy blur in her mind, turned to her. "Someday," he replied, his tone filled with a hope that belied their grim reality. "We just have to be patient."
They would talk for hours, their conversations a mixture of dreams and fantasies. They spoke of the world beyond the church walls—a world of sunlight, freedom, and endless possibilities. The girl often imagined herself running through fields of flowers, the wind in her hair and the warmth of the sun on her skin. The boy shared stories of places he longed to visit, describing them in vivid detail as if they were already there.
For a time, these shared dreams brought them comfort. They laughed together, finding moments of joy despite their bleak surroundings. The boy would tell her jokes, and she would giggle, the sound a rare burst of happiness in the oppressive darkness.
But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the reality of their situation became harder to ignore. The church, which should have been a place of sanctuary, had become a prison for them. The priests and nuns who walked above them saw her as an abomination—a half-breed, neither fully human nor fully demon, and thus deserving of confinement. The boy, too, was seen as a stain upon the sanctity of the church, though the reasons for his captivity were less clear in her fragmented memories.
One night, the atmosphere shifted. The boy's voice was tense, filled with a fear she had never heard before. "They're coming for us," he whispered urgently. "I heard them talking. They don't want us here anymore."
