literature

To The Death

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Literature Text

She stepped over the threshold of the house, tugging at the scarf that was suddenly too tight. Her fingers gripped the camera in her hand painfully. She wished she had never promised to take the pictures. What a stupid school project. The door she had picked open swung gently in a cool breeze that stirred the leaves on the porch, wrapping them around her boots. Her wild hair blew from the loose ponytail and whipped across her face, obscuring her vision.
Her footfalls made the floorboards creak, and her spine froze up and twisted with every sound she made. She was the only thing making sound in this empty house, apart from the house itself. She wished her friend hadn't been such a netball fan – a match basically every afternoon, there was no time for them to meet up and finish the assignment, so she had to write it all out herself – and had taken the pictures liked she promised when they first got the assignment. Now it was the night before it was due. Which meant it had to be done. Which meant taking pictures in a creepy old house in the middle of nowhere by herself.
A branch outside scraped the tin roof of the veranda and she spun around, swearing loudly. She was never speaking to her friend again. For all she cared now, her friend could ram her netball up her –
"You realise you're saying that out loud, don't you?" A smooth voice that made her body ice up spoke from behind her. It sounded alarmingly close. Sudden thoughts of murder, rape and kidnapping flashed through her mind.
She didn't move. She couldn't move. Her cold fingers dropped the camera and it crashed on the floor. She didn't care. It was her life she was worried about, not a stupid point-and-click. When the police found her mangled corpse, she hoped they found a note with it saying that it was her friend's fault. That would be a fantastic revenge. She wouldn't even have to be alive to do it.
The smooth-talking stranger breathed over her shoulder and she almost screamed, clamping a freezing hand over her mouth instead. "Oh my god," She breathed.
"It's been a while since I've had to say that," The stranger whispered into her ear. "I have a very low tolerance for deities. Much like the rest of the Damned."
This guy sounded like a loony. Was he taking something? LSD? Ecstasy? She was going to be in so much trouble when she got home. Not that her dad would have cared. He was always working away from home. When he wasn't working, he was drinking. And when he wasn't doing either, he was ignoring her. He obviously didn't want anything to do with her. He had even tried to organise for her to go and live with her mum, but her mum didn't even want her either. If she went missing, she wasn't likely to be missed. She was going to be in so much trouble with herself when she got home. If she got home. Her chances of survival were getting thinner and thinner as this stranger wrapped his hands around her shoulders.
"Please."
"Pardon?" The strange man stopped draping his hands around her frame. "You have a very small voice. Speak up."
"Please. Get off." She was surprised at herself.
The man's hands didn't move. "That was a very brave thing to say."
I know, she thought but didn't say. She shifted her weight forward, ready to run out the still open door as soon as the man's grip loosened. She waited for his reply.
"You have no idea what I am, do you?"
She shook her head.
The man began to laugh. It was a nice laugh, deep and robust, but there was nothing funny about the situation. His hands tightened around her shoulders as she leaned further forward, foiling her plan. She waited for him to stop, her eyes darting around for a distraction. She looked out the door, looking down the long, leafy drive. It curved and twisted and trees framed the road as if the sun was never meant to touch the asphalt.
"Would you like to take a look around?" The stranger asked. "You are in my house, after all. Any reason why?"
She said nothing. He spun her around to face him, her back to the door. The first thing she saw was the golden brocade vest and the crisp white shirt, which she thought was odd. But then she thought that he might be a Goth. She looked up slowly, meeting his eyes. They were an odd tawny shade of brown, though not quite. He had a thin smile plastered on his face, and he had a young face. He was very pale, and his hair was long and dark and messy, as if he had just woken up. She figured he was only a few years older than her.
"No reason? Just dropped in to say hello? How wonderful. How charming. Do come in to the parlour, I have a fire going. It's nice and warm, just what you need." His powerful grip directed her to the closest door, pulling her away from her last chance at life and further into a house she had originally thought was uninhabited. The council had thought so too. This man was a squatter. A very well-dressed, drugged-up squatter. This was the oddest thing she could possibly have imagined. "What is your name?"
Her lips parted to say it, but the words caught in her throat.
"I bet it's something like Elisabeth or Francesca, a name that dances around the mouth, something sweet to say, like honey for the lips."
She changed her name to a simple request. "Please, may I go?"
"No, no, no, my dear, that would be too rude! I couldn't let a tiny thing like you step out into the storm! What if you died out there and the blame came down to me? That would be something I couldn't bear." His face contorted into a mask of agony, obviously fake. He felt nothing for her. He was probably planning to how to kill her. He was probably leading her to a basement, where there would be a table with straps and a tray of twisty bits of sharpened metal, sterilised and ready to cut her to pieces. But her feet kept moving forward as if she wanted it to happen. Maybe, secretly, deep down, she was depressed, and she had subconsciously devised an intricate suicide by directing herself towards the nearest serial killer and trapping herself inside a house with him. Her subconscious obviously hated her. She didn't feel depressed, angry or sad. There was no room, what with the growing fear and terror twisting up her insides.
He opened the door and a gust of warm air blew against her face, inviting her in. She hadn't realised how cold she was. She took a step forward without realising it and tripped on the carpet, tumbling forward, hitting her head on a big piece of furniture covered by a brightly patterned cloth.
"Owww…" She moaned. "Sorry, I'm not used to carpet. Just lino."
The man was suddenly kneeling beside her. He looked confused.
"Never mind."
He shrugged and hauled her to her feet, directing her towards a big chair in front of the fire. It was comfy and she sank into it gratefully, clutching her throbbing head. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to ease the pain, and then the man was sitting in the chair opposite her, holding her camera and trying to fix it. The lid to the battery compartment was warped, and wouldn't fit into the grooves, and she watched him try to slide it back into position, to no avail. It began to dawn on her that he might not be a rapist, and that he might just be a very lonely man with nobody to talk to. She relaxed a little, stretching out to catch some more of the warmth from the fire. He looked up again, startled. He passed the camera back to her.
"It appears to be broken. I am so sorry."
"That's fine. I don't mind."
"I hope it didn't cost too much. I hear those devices cost a pretty penny."
He seemed genuinely interested in the camera, as if he had never seen one before. She started thinking about cryogenics and people frozen in time, but before she could start trying to explain it, he spoke again.
"I have some dinner on the table in the dining room. It's still warm, if you would like it."
Her stomach grumbled in agreement. She hadn't eaten since breakfast. There wasn't anything at home to eat. Her father only bought for himself, like he wanted to starve her.
The man laughed, revealing pristinely white teeth that were a bit too sharp for her liking. She cringed in her seat, but allowed him to take her hand and lead her into the next room, where, indeed, dinner was served. It was a banquet. And it was still hot, as if it had just been cooked. She took a plate gratefully and helped herself to something that looked like a casserole, some bread and some chicken. It was delicious. Once she was full, she sat back in her chair and looked at him gratefully. He smiled thinly and nodded.
"Full?"
"Yes, thank you. I really needed that."
"Indeed you did. Would you join me in the parlour again?"
She nodded, following this generous stranger. She was getting sleepy from the fantastic meal and longed for the warmth of the fire again. This was the best decision she had ever made. The man stayed standing on the hearth rug, facing her, an intent look in his eyes. She plonked herself down in the armchair again and stretched happily. "Thank you very much, but I have to be going soon. My father will be missing me."
"No he won't, and you know it. You shan't be missed at all."
She nodded sleepily in agreement, listening to his voice. He was speaking the truth, after all.
"My dear, if someone were to present to you a new life, what would you do?"
She frowned slightly, not understanding.
"Would you change anything? Or would you live the same way?"
"Yep, I would change a lot. God, what would I give to have a new life –"
"How about your mortality?" The man's eyes flashed, almost dangerously. She tried to pull herself out of the pink clouds of sleep. "Would you give up death to receive eternal time?" He smiled, and his teeth seemed too perfect, too large for his mouth. Phobias, warnings and cautionary tales flooded her mind and now she was struggling to move her limbs. She was not meant to be here. She was never meant to have stepped foot inside the house. This monster had warmed her and fed her, and now he would take his payment while she lay helpless and drugged up in this all-too-cosy armchair. "Just a simple flicker of the eyes will do, if that's all you can manage right now." He stepped closer, leaning over her, closing in on her like a fox that has finally caught up to the rabbit.
She grimaced as she forced her muscles into action. "Never!" She growled, throwing up a hand at his face. He caught it and squeezed it tight. She yelped in surprise and pain.
"Well then, my dear, it's a good thing I didn't really need your consent. But just to make sure – would you rather live through this ordeal and forever feed me and I you, or die, sustaining me for only a short while, like your mortal food?"
"If I live through this, I'll kill you." His hand clamped her head, his fingers tangling themselves in her hair.
"I would like to see you try." He smiled that awful grin, sinking his teeth into her neck and ending her life.
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o0PandaBear0o's avatar
oooh, fancy. i like it very muchly :D