Sparks of Inspiration: Short Stories

In a world of Monsters and Heroes

"You said I could come when I was done eating," Caleb growled, licking his bloody claws and his eyes a shiny black.

"Only a fool would listen to my words," Shana giggled, tilting her head back and kicking her feet in amusement. The transparent skirt danced about her knees. "Now go back," she purred.

"Why should I listen then if you tease me when doing so? No, I will not go back." Caleb watched her twitch. He smirked slightly by her reaction to this sudden disobedience. He had not challenged her ever since he came; it had been three weeks.

She brought her face upward from behind her gilded neck, and the gold necklaces she was wearing fell back down to rest on her collar. Her green eyes were in shadow, but glittered balefully nonetheless. "Caleb, Caleb..." she sung in a condescending tone, wagging her index finger back and forth. "Don't forget why you're here, in this despicable limbo-of-a-place." Her voice was dark and cold; her words impaling icicles.

Caleb clenched his teeth. "But I'm not dead."

"Oh, but you very-well-could be," Shana winked, her pale green claws wrapped on the edges of the stone wall she was sitting on. It outlined what was left of a dried-up pool, now filled with dirt, ash, and bugs. Even some graves... Few sprouts of green were present, and the place reeked of moldy fruit and rotting corpses.

"A monster such as yourself: why do you care for these mortals? They leave you, they hurt you, they condemn you; to love one is to wish death upon yourself. Soon enough." She dragged her fingers through her pulled-back hair, and slouched a little with a huff. Her glowing tattoos were the only things that could light up her appearance. Everything about her, though her skin was as white as fresh snow, was dismal. She could alter her face to come off as more humanly and attractive, but in truth she was somewhat of a siren who could draw people in with falsities and consume them without guilt. She was as plump as a skeleton and her clothing was elegant as if she were going out to see a play or perform in one. Yet anyone who knew her long enough could see her true form: a monster; Caleb was one of these people. Her appearance didn't fool him.

He could see the dried blood under her painted nails, her pearl fangs ready to rip into flesh; she was always hungry.

"Now hurry back, you don't want those little-lost souls running off any further now, do you? You'd have to catch them even if another Eater comes along," she added matter-of-factly.

"But why must I eat?" He knew the answer, but continued. "Aren't you unsatisfied?"

The deathly siren smiled. "Oh, but nothing fills me up more than watching a corrupted soul!" Shana laughed at Caleb. She knew she was hungry...

***

Caleb walked deep within the jungle that stretched over Limbo. He separated the weeds carefully as he made his way through the brush and thickness of the dying plants. Leaves cracked sharply in his ears, and Caleb could barely hear any other sound; but that didn't bother him too much.

I'll stop once I get to the border.

The border: it was only a few paces from the very end of the jungle. A cliff. That's where all the souls trudged when they lost hope—a daily progression.

There may be some heading there now.

At a distance, Caleb could vaguely outline a hunched figure sweeping through the tangled leaves. His arms were hanging from his slumped shoulders like useless rope, and his clothing was covered in dirt.