by: Krystalyn
To sleep ensnared in the brambles and
vines of their wicked forest.
To dream of ice shards slicing deep into my heart.
To waken in the realm that has consumed
my dreams since birth.
To know they have brought me here for a
purpose.
To fear their narrow slitted eyes and
needle sharp nails as they examine me, their new treasure, home at
last.
***
“Such pretty eyes,” one says.
“Such full lips,” hisses another.
I remain curled up in a ball on the
forest floor, the place where my dreams have deposited me on this
final night of my life.
They crouch near the ground, their
boney knees touching their ears as they hop from one foot to the
other. I didn't realize there would be so many, but the clearing is
filled with hundreds of thin, agile creatures with a white-blue tint
to their skin. They all came out tonight.
And now, more than ever, I am certain
my time is here.
I feel uncomfortable as the folk
examine me, but then I notice the one who makes me feel naked. He is
the one who has crept through my life, leaving footprints across my
eighteen years. He exists for me, or so he's always said. His fingers
tap a staccato rhythm on my temple while his eyes draw me in. The
lines in his irises replay the cracked, broken roads of his victims,
past wishes gone wrong.
I see Caleb Jenkins wish to be noticed
by his crush. She notices him, but only after a thief in the night
slices a six inch gash across his throat. I see Matty Torres' wish
for money to buy a new car. He gets the money, but only after a car
accident kills his dearest grandmother. I see death and ruin fall to
each person unlucky enough to utter the incantation and make their
wish.
I would rather be blind than see these
atrocities played out before me, but even if I were, it would make no
difference. I know each victim intimately. Their horrors are branded
into my soul, for it was my own hands that did the work.
The first time I took a human life, I
scrubbed my hands until they were raw. For weeks after, I imagined
innocent blood oozing from my knuckles and beneath my nail beds. That
didn't stop me though. Nothing could have kept me from my goal.
His face cracks open into a smile. The
points on his teeth glisten in the ice-filled night. “My queen.”
His breath rolls over me in waves, a mixture of copper and decay. I
may have facilitated the ruin of a hundred men, but he did the clean
up. And his appetite was insatiable.
I ball my hands into fists, then
release them as I place one hand in his open palm and allow him to
help me to my feet. I know why I am here.
The folk step back and make a path for
us as he leads me to the far side of the clearing. An elaborate
throne, carved from ice and strengthened with the bones of our
victims sits nestled beneath the biggest tree. I pause in front of
it. His hand tightens around mine, feeding the sliver of ice that
sleeps in my heart. I take a deep breath. I have worked for this
night all of my life, doing his bidding, fulfilling the requirement
that would make me their queen.
I'd known of the requirement since the
day I was born. He slipped into my dreams and told me the fantastic
story of a race of folk that existed in the shadows. When humans
stumbled upon the right incantation, they brought the folk to their
door, sealing their fate. But the folk wanted more than just blood.
They believed that one day, a human girl would be assigned a test,
and if she passed that test, she would rise to be their queen and
release them from the shadows. No longer would they be bound to
spells and ritual. Her presence would grant them full access to the
human world, and together they would rise up and claim it all.
That was the night he placed the sliver
in my heart, along with the need to fulfill his every desire.
He repeated the story each night for a
dozen years. Then on the eve of my 12th birthday, he came
to me with a request. Even though I was fully aware of the wrongness
of it all, I complied. I could blame brainwashing or the sliver in my
heart, but that wasn't why I did it. And it wasn't why I continued to
assist him, year after year. I did it because I wanted to be queen.
I squeeze his hand one last time, turn
around, and settle in on my throne. I glance at my subjects, lock
eyes with a few before the creature at my side falls to his knees and
proclaims, “My queen. You have joined us at last!”
The others fold their bodies until
their foreheads touch the ground. “My queen,” they say as one.
A scepter appears beside me, and I
snatch it greedily. A brand new power rushes into me, drawn from the
ground and the ice and the heartbeats of a thousand folk. I revel in
it, because I know what to do next.
I stand. An ocean of magic rushes up
through my feet and surges into my body. I feel as if I may get swept
away with the power of it all. The ice sliver encourages me, tells me
that all I have to do is snap my fingers, and the folk will be
released into the human world. It's what I was born for.
But it's not what I do.
I wrap both hands around the scepter. I
lift it high in the air, then bring it down, smashing the end against
the ice-covered ground. Cracks splinter across the ice, rushing
toward the folk. One touch of the ever-spreading cracks and the folk
freeze instantly into ice statues. It takes just long enough for the
creature beside me to shoot me a look of utter betrayal, but then he
is gone too, frozen into an everlasting statue. No more wishes. No
more queens. No more blood.
I drop my scepter to the ground, then
walk slowly back through the folk, back to the place where I woke on
this final night of my life. I curl into a ball, knowing that because
of my crimes, I have no right to return to the human realm, and I do
not wish to survive in this one. My only choice is to silently drift
away.
***
To sleep until my body finds its way
into the next world.
To dream that my good has overshadowed
my crimes.
To waken in the realm of those who've
passed before me.
To know, without a look, the folk have
crossed over as well.
To fear that in this realm, I won't be
able to stop them.
***
Photo by: Helen Warner
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I think this one is my favorite of yours, excepting only Stitch of Blood.
ReplyDeleteLove this one!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI concur with all that's been said, Krystalyn.
ReplyDeleteI'll say it again--so awesome! This story is perfectly executed, Krystalyn:-)
ReplyDelete