𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏
𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅

"Burn her alive!"

"Stake her heart!"

"Slit her by the throat!"

The cries of the crowd circled around me, suffocating me. Their sea of faces was contorted with a thirst for death. Flames danced in their eyes, fueled by centuries worth of fear. Drawn by a monster of stories, a charming booth of foreseen sins.

Bound by heavy metal chains, I stood in the center of the silted area, my gaze was locked on the sand. I watched their torches spark up the closer it got to me, its fire begging for a taste of my blood.

My feet were barely able to move as I gazed at the tight rope cutting my circulation. I could only imagine the veins on my face popping out like a burn against my skin as the chains bit into my neck.

Accusations continued to rain down upon me, I closed my eyes attempting to escape their defiling. This wasn't my choice. I didn't ask for this.

Darkness encircled me as images flushed past me, myths...legends, of a bloodthirsty creature—a man, nonetheless, who had driven my village to insanity once more. In the darkness behind my eyelids, memories flashed- the fragments of a life before this nightmarish juncture.

10 years ago.

I fiddled with the loose ribbon around my dress as I sat on the tattered ivory carpet. My blue ball gown spread around me. Light as a feather, its thread mingled with the candlelight flickering in the background.

The hushed whispers and giggles of small children wrapped around me as the room simmered down to silence. They, and I, were ready to hear the stories of the dark prince. I quickly huddled closer to my brown bear, fear tracing my veins.

A tall masked figure emerged from the red curtains of our olden library, its satin red fabric swayed against his costume. My eyes were wide with fear as I gazed at the white-painted face of the man.

Charcoal eyes, ruby-red lips, and fangs hung from his gummy smile. The mask, twisted into a sinister grin, ogled at the young children in front of him. A sharp voice slithered from his mouth as he began to speak, his arms encased by a black cloak, began to move like swifts of smoke.

The masked storyteller continued his narrative, each word a brushstroke to a hideous painting, a portrait of the prince that haunted our imaginations.

I watched with a thumb in my mouth as the rest of the children leaned forward, their eyes wide as they hung on every chilling detail.

"Skin as yellow as a harvest moon at its zenith. Striking fear into the hearts of mortals, his face bores the scars of his victims." He walked down the rows of kids, raising his bony fingers over the monarchs.

A grin plastered on his face. "His nose, cruelly erased, left behind a great void, an absence of a feature. His lips," He paused in front of me, dragging his fingers up my lips, dragging my cheeks up crushing my eyes. "Mangled and bloodied, contorted into a permanent smile that slices way up to his eyes, eternally frozen in a sinister ritual." I hugged my bear tighter, my nails digging into its fur.

I pulled away from his grip, his eyes squinting down at me. I could feel his heavy breath looming over my small figure and the chill of his touch lingered on my skin like a sinister memory. The storyteller's gaze bore into me, and fore a moment, I felt like a victim in the very legend he was telling.

His voice lowered, resonating like a group of sharp knives, "The prince, condemned to the chains of the devil, prowls on the mortal realm, seeking the hearts of the innocent to feed his hungry soul. Beware, children, for his hunger is insatiable, and his reign of darkness knows no bounds."

The air in the room grew heavy with dread, and the flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows that swayed along the walls. I shuddered, captivated by the allure of the mask and the long-living legend of the prince.

The heavy fabric of the curtains suddenly unfurled, the metallic rings clinking against the pole structure, unveiling my mother. Her blonde hair was gathered in a messy French braid, and her eyes widened while her mouth fell agape.

I watched her heavy footsteps as she hastened toward the masked man, grabbing his demonic mask by the two thin strings. In a sudden motion she tore off the mask, followed by a decisive splash as she drenched him with a heavy bucket of water that was sat aside.

"What the hell are you doing to these kids, Cyrus?" Her voice sliced through the room.

Cyrus, the storyteller, shifted uncomfortably under my mother's disapproving gaze. He stammered, "I-I was just sharing a bit of history, ma'am. A little lesson for these young minds."

"These are children, not your audience for your twisted theatrics." Cyrus, now wet and unmasked, stood there sheepishly.

His dramatic persona melted away, revealing a man in his forties with a receding hairline and a slightly portly frame. He mumbled an apology, his eyes avoiding the piercing gaze of my mother.

I took the opportunity to dart over to my mother, snuggling into the folds of her dress. In her embrace, I clutched my favorite bear, finding comfort in the familiar scent of lavender that always lingered on her.

My mother cast a disapproving look at Cyrus. "This isn't what I hired you for. You're supposed to entertain, not traumatize. I won't have you scaring the wits out of these children."

My mother bent down, brushing a strand of hair from my face. Her eyes softened with concern, and she spoke gently, "I'll be right back, sweetheart. I need to gather my things and make sure Cyrus understands the severity of his actions. You won't be coming back to this place again, I promise."

I nodded, clutching my bear a little tighter. Despite the strange and unsettling encounter, I felt a sense of relief at the prospect of leaving that eerie room behind.

My mother gave me a reassuring smile before straightening up and heading toward Cyrus.

As she confronted him, I watched from a distance, observing the conversation between them. Cyrus ducked his head down, nodding in agreement with whatever my mother was saying.

The room echoed with the sounds of him packing up his belongings, the clinking of metal cases, and the snap of a closing makeup compact.

"Look at the little princess! Her mommy's gonna protect her from the wittle monster" A few kids jeered from the dimly lit tent. Their laughter echoed within the confined space, cutting through the murmur of the autumn night air. Ignoring their taunts proved futile as they hauled me from the ground, jostling and pushing me until I stumbled onto the tent floor, my bear forcefully plucked from my weak arms.

Tears welled in my eyes as I clutched my scraped knees, the rough fabric of the tent scratching against my skin. My mother, too busy shunning Cyrus, kept walking further deep into the tent before shutting herself off with him behind a tapestry. Curse words flung out from behind the wall- I doubt she could hear what was happening around me.

"Give him back!" I gasped, my tiny voice drowned by their belittling laughter as they vanished into the depths of the dark canvas. Instinct took over as I clenched fistfuls of my now dirtied gown, my determination unwavering despite my frightened demeanor.

The tent's opening beckoned me, and I burst outside into the cool night air, running through the campsite, chasing the echoes of their cruel laughter.

My legs carried me deeper and deeper into the surrounding forest. The shadows danced around me as I ran, searching for my beloved bear.

The soft glow of the moon illuminated my path, and the chilly wind whispered through the trees, echoing my desperate pursuit through the quiet night.

Yet with each step, the woods underwent a sinister metamorphosis. Moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of brushes, casting an uncanny dance of light and shadow upon the forest floor, where twisted roots seemed to wrap themselves around the earth, choking out the last bits of life the world provided.

The branches hung loosely, dead, like the fingers of a skeleton they draped across the night sky reaching out to my small figure.

Ghastly faces leered around me, their dead eyes stretched across the bark, their mouths open in horror as blood seeped from the empty caves of the trees. My footsteps, muffled by the carpet of fallen leaves, echoed through, my pace becoming slower, more hesitant, as I scanned my surroundings.

My shoulders huddled in alert. I was certainly far far away from the bullies and even farther away from town.

I tightly shut my eyes, letting my gown fall to the forest floor as I shoved through the gore of the trees. In the distance, beyond the sentinels of the woods, a soft haunting melody gently flowed through the crevices of the woods.

It seeped into my brain like a hot knife, caressing my body and lifting me like a feather off the ground. Each note murmured a sinister ambiance that my young self could not distinguish.

Each pause seemed to caress the darkness, offering a fleeting sense of solace amid the encroaching shadows.

It danced delicately on the edge of perception lulling the senses with its tender embrace, a faint glimmer of serenity amidst the foreboding stillness.

The chilling minor keys of the piano would haunt me for weeks as I would toss and turn in my bed.

Driven by hypnotic compulsion, I followed the ominous strains deeper into the forest, guided only by the ethereal glow of fireflies that flew around me like flickering stars.

The hum of the music grew louder, more enchanting, as my surroundings began to drift into something otherworldly. The trees shifted into gnarled spectral giants, the moonlight casting a ghostly fog.

As I pushed forward, the trees gave way to a small clearing, and there, before me, materialized a sight that stole my breath away.

A castle loomed a few yards settling on a grand hill that seemed to stretch miles and miles across the empty forest floor. It stood as a paradox, its ethereal grandeur juxtaposed against an underlying aura of danger that pulsed through the ancient stones.

Moonlight caressed its towered spires, casting an otherworldly glow upon the weathered battlements, while the shadows seemed to wither within the hidden recesses.

Despite its foreboding facade, an undeniable allure beckoned with me at that moment, I could feel its thorns of haunted whispers grasping me, wanting me, needing me to go with them.

The necklace around my neck burned, a searing sensation that intensified with each step towards the ominous castle. I clutched it with my small hand as I tried to tug it off but the necklace wouldn't budge from its place.

Creepy whispers slithered through my air, urging me to take more steps, their words a chilling invitation into the unknown.

And there in the palace's courtyard, the ghosts appeared. Grotesque figures, draped in tattered finery, waltzing gracefully to the melody that drove me to the castle.

Their steps lightly tapping against the marble gold flooring, each key pressed on the piano leading them gracefully together. A mesmerizing orchestra of colors floated through the broken windows,  silvers, soft creams, and blushes synchronizing effortlessly with the crescendo of the music.

The mournful lament of a violin pierced the air, its sorrowful notes intertwining with the gentle melancholy of the keys, each melody responding to the other in a delicate duet of emotion.

The violin and piano crescendo together, each note spiraling higher and higher until they merged into a shrill, piercing scream that hung in the air, a haunting sound. It was then at that moment I saw him.

His eyes were deep pools of abyssal darkness, seeming to hold the weight of forgotten centuries, their intensity pulling at the fabric of the night.

Within their  depths, shadows danced, hinting at a well of secrets and untold mysteries that lurked just beneath the surface. As the moonlight glazed their surface, a glimmer of unfathomable sorrow flickered within, a silent echo of the past long shrouded in darkness.

They were eyes that bore witness to a realm of both haunting and despair. As the violin and piano drifted off to sleep, finishing their lullaby, those eyes met mine.

Before I could stifle my quivering breath, he materialized before me, a figure swathed in darkness. Vines of seeping blackness circled around him like snakes slithering on a lake.

His presence loomed, a harbinger of intrigue and trepidation enveloping the space between us. As I recoiled, his gaze seemed to pierce through the veil of my fear, delving into the depths of my soul with a silent intensity.

"Why do you weep, little one?" his voice, a whisper that reverberated through the stillness, carrying an undercurrent of both menace and an unexpected tenderness that sent a shiver down my spine.

Despite the chill that clung to his every word, I found myself drawn to the compassion that flickered within his obsidian eyes, an enigma that defied the darkness that wrapped around him.

It was then I couldn't remember why I was there. Any thought, any worry, or any feeling had emptied through me as if my body was melting away into the air.

I could hardly breathe, my mind still conjuring up what I was seeing or rather who I was seeing. I choked back a sob, my tear-streaked face a testament to the fear that had seized my young heart. Through trembling lips, I managed to whisper, "I...I don't know how I got h-here."

The dark figure slowly lowered himself, the long overcoat resting atop his head leaving my vision staring deeply into the dark depths of his eyes. I watched as he bent down over me, his focus on my scraped knees.

I slightly winced looking at the sight, I noticed the pebbles, grass and dirt stuck to the bloody scab with blooding oozing down my legs.

His black-gloved hand extended over the knee cuts, and a soothing warmth enveloped my leg. As I looked down, a gasp escaped me; the cuts gradually healed, the skin seamlessly sewing back together as if retracing back in time.

The figure regarded me with a solemnity that seemed to echo through the chamber, each gesture imbued with a potent aura that defied comprehension.

He peered down at me, the black coat that hung around him seeping into the carpeted floor of leaves. "Unfortunately you must forget this moment, we can't have anyone knowing I've gone soft," he mumbled, his voice was empty of emotion, weaving fragile enchantment that cloaked my memory in a hazy fog, shielding me from the harrowing encounter of the castle.

I watched as his grin blurred and swirled, my eyes moving sideways. He was gone.

But what he doesn't know is that I remember.

Word count: 2557

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𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭!

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