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Paranormal Prompts aims to bring you...
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Hello and welcome to our newest word prompt! Remember that you can interpret it in any manner you want - be it literal or figurative. You do not need to include the exact wording of the prompt in your entry if you do not want to. For more details, make sure to read the guidelines below!
WORD PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
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"Those who have fallen from unholy underlings will be punished for all eternity within the enemy's domain for the damned."
Blood drips from the corner of my cackling lips. I witness the preacher's eyes drain of all hope. The colors of his face fade into a pale hue like alabaster at the sight of his dagger in my excited grip and my blood staining the blade. I take my last steps forward, he takes his backwards and falls before me.
"The gates will close before those who fail their king," I say as I violently cough. "That's what you said, no?"
"Stay back!" the man cries out. "Die already!"
I feel no pain yet I can feel the blood flood this injured body. It has little time on its feet, as do I, but before I leave this world, one must come with me.
"Perhaps," I say between hysterical panting, "but why so startled? You should be excited."
I take aim with the dagger. The life force that binds me and my host dims like a candle's dying flame.
"After years of spreading your good word and convincing morons to follow it, you'll finally get your reward."
Though I have but a few breaths left within me, I pull his head back. The blade rests just outside his rapidly pulsing jugular with only loose flesh to protect it.
"Before I send you on your way," I say, "care for any last words? Any curses? Pleas? Or maybe a prayer in the presence of a demon?"
The old man falls silent, besides occasional spurts of petrified groans, and his body becomes stiff. The last of his sights are the pure darkness that brews deep within my inhumane stare. The preacher seizes within my grasp.
"Devil!" he cries out. "Demon!"
And just like that, the preacher's holy blood and soul are released by demonic intentions.
My time possessing this body and preying its soul are over. I notice the blade, how it's coated with mortal blood. I touch the wound on my chest and flinch. There's slight pain as I depart from my human host. The last heartbeat separates us. His corpse falls to the earth.
I smirked, "You didn't really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"
He trembled visibly. "P-please... I'm done. I... I don't want you anymore."
"You really should have thought of that before you chose me."
"I can't do it anymore... please. Just let me go."
My head cocked slightly. "Your friends warned you about this, didn't they? Of course they did, they always do. But it's too late. I own you." A sinister grin spread across my lips. Claiming my prey was always the most satisfying part of my profession. Of course, they don't know they're a victim until it's too late. I appear to them with a façade of innocence and beauty, and they cannot resist me. At first I let them believe they have control. I play their game, fulfill their every desire. But soon enough they become dependent on me, until they are unable to survive without me. At this point, they make on of two decision: Regret choosing me, or give in and let me control them.
I love it when they feel regret. It makes it so much more satisfying when I win.
Inevitably, they attempt to get rid of me, to free themselves. They try every means possible, but nothing works. I cannot be destroyed by the feeble methods man has imagined.
They begin to despair and fall into a proverbial pit of hopelessness.
When they are at their lowest, I strike. I don't kill often, though I savor the times when I do.
Usually, I hand them the weapon. I watch with malevolent glee as they turn it on themselves, and I know another task is complete.
Another human is eliminated.
This is my mission. My goal. My purpose for living.
I am she who turns children to orphans, wives to widows, rich men to beggars.
A cold and rusty knife is buried deep into the middle of my chest. A large man looms over my lifeless body, staring at my face. Hot tears fall from his cheeks and land on mine, creating small rivers down both our cheeks. The only sound that can be heard in the silent room are his quiet sniffles and occasional hiccup. That is until a maniacal laugh erupts from the depth of my throat.
"Hey... Why are you crying when you've already killed me?"
The man frantically jumps away from me "H-how? How are you still alive?!" He asks.
"Simple." I get up and pull the knife out of my chest, flakes of rust scatter to the ground as I do. "You can't kill what's already dead." My wound instantly closes when the knife is fully out.
The man slowly inches away from me until his back hits a wall. "How are you still alive?" He repeats with shaky breaths.
"Don't you remember killing me?"
Panicked, the man slumps down the wall into a crouched position. He holds his head between his hands, like a scared child. "Your not human... What are you?"
My shadow slowly swallows the man's cowering form as I make my way to him. "You killed me." I repeat slowly. He looks up at me with tears streaming down his cheeks faster than before. I smack my hand against his neck and squeeze. The knife in my other hand slowly being raised above my head.
"No I'm not human. I'm the reaper, here to escort you to hell!"
