The Battles of Mirth and Malice

[Journia]

Insurrectum Purgatorum Tittallatus

The girl ran down the street, her hair trailing behind her like a long curly, red and brown cape. She ran in desperation, fear of that which was inevitable if it had its way. She couldn’t allow it, she knew it, and she was at a loss of how to cause it to cease and redirect its pursuit. She wore a black shirt, that fitted around her upper body snugly. Her long legs were covered by pale blue foot length jeans with rips in the knees. Her feet were fitted into a pair of white and black skater sneakers. She now regretted the trend of undoing them already. She had left her coat at the train station to keep it from weighing her down. Her body was thin, a dancer’s body, and it moved with such grace one might have mistook her for an angel fleeing the demons of Hell. But not a soul was upon the streets at this hour to save her as she fled this demon of Earth.

A trash can tumbled over and rolled into the street as a tall, thin figure, with hunched shoulders dashed from ons sidewalk to the other. Its shadow which was almost indiscernible from the figure itself was ghost-like, and moved with grace eaqual to a fallen angel, wondrous grace, but truly malign. The figure darted into an alleyway and faded into the impenetrable darkness.

Thje girl could hear her name being called. Karimah…Karimah…return to me. But she would not answer, she could not answer, lest it know her position, and appear before her, like it did to her friends. She would not meet the same fate, and be taken with this beast. The music to La tortura played in the girl’s head as she dashed down the street and leapt upon a fire escape in a single bound. She began scrambling up without a moment to recover from the impact of the jump. The figure which ahd hidden in the alleyway where the fire escape was located, leapt out and hit the fire escape and with one arm, boosted itself onto the stairway.

“Karimah! I am near you, won’t you submit, return to me?” The shadow said as it climbed up the stairs in an agonizingly suspenseful manner. Reaching one hand at a time to grasp the rails of each level.
“Never!” She shouted as she stopped at the top of the fire escape, and jumped up, and landed upon it, hard. The structure began to shake, and then there was a sound like the one a key makes in a lock. The fire escape began to fall, level by level. She leapt onto the roof as the top level smashed into the one below it, followed by another boom, and another, and another.

Karimah knelt down to catch her breath as she heard the figure scream and eldritch wail and then succumb to the roar of the fire escape crashing down upon it. She smiled as tears began streaming down her cheeks. Never more. Never again would the demon seed of Mirth and Malice threaten her and her friends. What few of her friends were left unharmed by this malevolent spirit. What few were not traumatized, were not caressed by its delirious touch, and chilled by its vice like grip of doom. She brought her beautiful caramel colored face up to the light of the moon on the now clear sky. The moon was the greatest it had been in months, and hundreds of stars twinkled in the sky. Something that wouldn’t happen if the city’s power was on.

“It is finished. The deed is done, the war is won and I may finally be at peace.” she said after breathing a sigh of relief. As suddenly as her glory was begun,, her blood grew cold with terror, as she heard a familiar hissing voice.
“It is a shame that the gods have neglected your work. You would have made quite a slayer of beasts.” Karimah didn’t have a chance to react, a pair of hands grabbed her ankles and dragged her from the eave and into the middle of the roof.
“No! No!” She screamed.
“A hunter however, must always treat their quarries as equals, and be prepared for,” the figure peeled her sneakers off, revealing a pair of white socks grey toes and heels., “unexpected occurrences.”
Karimah looked on in horror as the creature began to tickle her plump, and sexy socked soles. She wriggled and tried to release her feet from the grips of the figure’s supernatural grip, but to no avail.
“No..No…Noooaaahahahahaaaa!!!!” She screamed as the figure kicked into high gear. And its fingers slid along the plump flesh under Karimah’s socked soles. The fingers felt like vibrating screwdrivers, pressing up and down on each and every neaurion, burning her up with sparks of tickles.
The figure uttered a demonic laugh as it continued.

The police had been called in to recover the body of a minor, approximately nineteen years of age.



The coroner looked over the file on the corpse which he was presented with that morning.

Coroner’s Victim Profile
Name: Karimah Wendigo
Age: Approximately 19 y/o
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 105lbs.
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Black
Skin Color: Caramel
Ancestry: Afro-American, possibly Latino origin also.
Cause of Death: Possible Rape, dragging and beating as well as asphyxiation.
The girl laid out before him was a beautiful one, even in death, and it was not usual that he had one that was so lovely. He would nickname her A. Lee. After the famous character of the poem by Edgar Allan Poe. Taken away before her time by some treacherous being no doubt, this girl would be avenged, She was laid in the prone position wearing only her jeans. Her feet were heavily laden with a mucosal substance, quite likely semen, if she were raped. Her shirt had been removed, and was not in the area in which she was found. A thorough check of trash cans and apartments made sure that that was the case. However, the police had joked about her when they found her, and had carried her to the coroner’s laboratory. The girl’s expression was not usual for a rape victim. One would expect a rape victim to have a frightened expression. One of pure horror or terror upon the countenance. But no, not the one who laid before the coroner. Her expression was of a crooked smile, her eyes were wide in surprise. It was an expression of mirth. Not of terror, violence, or disgust. But how could it be? It was almost as if, as if she were enjoying it.
“Man, whoever did her in could teach me a thing or two to make things fun for my girl at home!” one officer joked to his friend. His friend understood and shared a chuckle with his comrade. The coroner turned briskly, his eyes red with fury. He pointed an accusatory finger at the officer who made the joke, a muscular, well built man of thirty-five. With a thing moustache of light brown and hair of the same color, trimmed short.
“Have you no respect for the dead? Would you do that to your daughter if she were found in a state such as this?” he glared right into the officer’s eyes. The query hit home on the officer, but as usual, this officer had a comeback.
“I don’t have any children, but if I did, they’d probably want to know how to give a girl a good time!” The officver laughed. His comrade smacked him on the back of the neck. The comrade was a tall, thn black man with skin the color of a Hershey bar. His hair was cut short, and neat.
“Don’t be a dumb ass.” The comrade said. “I apologize for my actions Doctor Girault.”

“Please Leave.” The coroner said firmly. The officers obliged only because they had been berated moments before. The coroner knelt forward and examined the girl. Her sakin was flawless, her eyes, quite pleased. Her toothy grin, immaculate. Her full, black lacquered lips, absolutely mesmerizing. But something simply was not right about the girl. He decided to investigate. He held up his scalpel, and made one last check for anyone in the room before he began. He walked to the door, locked the latch, and sealed the sound proof room. The coroner returned to the table and raised the scalpel to the eyeball. The glint of the sharp blade reflected off the crystalline rods in her eye, which gave her eyes such a dazzling color.
“Those eyes are too beautiful to cut,” the coroner said. “Let’s start at your finger.” He moved toward her right hand and chose the index finger. As the blade pierced the finger, the anatomist stopped suddenly.
He looked at the face of the girl, nothing at all. No expression, save for the creepy grin upon her mirthful face. He could have sworn however, he had just heard a cry.

 

[Low_Roads]

Youch! Our precious youngsters (youngsters certainly, even if endowed with cryptic, supernormal beauty and agility), done to ugly death by the fetish joys we hold so dear! Distressing! Or possibly not... though no numbering is present (no "Chapter 1", say), this tale seems to murmur "continuation!" Do barely-heard vocal tones signal that all's not up with Ms. Karimah? Most fortunate, then, that Dr. Girault chose to forgo the eyeball-ectomy! He might yet have ripped malice from the impending mirth! I do indeed expect further elaboration, warmly wrapped in the royal purple you pen so lovingly! And, as always, Poe! Forever, more Poe!

 

[Journia]

Master Chief and I have been working on this. I add the darkness, he adds the light.

Royal Jelly

“Hello Miss, would you happen to have the time?” the boy in the black outfit asked. He was tall, thin with sunglasses on his face. His speech was impeccable and His smile was equally so. He held his hands behind his back while he stood, head held high and teeth aglow with purity.
After looking him over, the young lady he was talking to looked at her watch. It was digital, and fit loosely on her wrist, just like her dirty Adidas fit so loosely on her feet. “Uh, yeah, it’s ten fifteen.”
“Thank you very much.” The boy turned and sat down at the bus stop. The girl kept stealing glances at the boy from the corner of her eyes. She wondered if he could see her behind those glasses. The boy didn’t move, or even notice her. Finaly the girl began to lose interest in the boy who had begun looking at the bus transfer he would soon use on the bus.

She began to stare at the other people as they walked across the bus qeue, waiting and entertaining themselves until their buses arrived. Then they would go home to their houses, and probably have an uninteresting time. She considered this. She wanted to have an adventure. She wanted to have something interesting to happen to her, something that would both scare and enrapture her. But she knew that because of her life, she wouldn’t have that. She was a very safe person. She was kind, and nothing adventurous ever happens to kind people. Nothing big ever happens to the goody-two-shoes who dot the planet. But despite all that, she always hoped. She was a plump, middle sized girl. Her golden brown skin made her a plump, happy, benevolent goddess in image. And should she have been immortal, she certainly would have been a benevolent goddess. She wore a green and white and blue striped shirt and a pair of blue jeans with frayed edges at the feet. Her Adidas Superstars were loosely holding onto her feet, clad in slightly dirty white socks. She tapped her foot on the concrete beneath her, hoping her bus would soon come. As she did so, she slid her right foot out of her shoe, exposing her size ten foot. She didn’t notice the boy titlt his head slightly at the exposition of her appendage. Nor did she notice the peak which was growing in the darkness of his clothes.

She started moving her foot around her sneaker, feeling the tongue, twiddling with it with her first and second toes, rubbing her sole along the back of the shoe, scratching some sort of itch, and at one pont, tangling her sock clad toes in the loops of her laces. She did this for atleast five minutes, and she didn’t notice the boy beside her shuddering at different intervals, and because she was so distracted by the people and her day dreams, she didn’t see the loopy smile he wore, which he quickly covered up. He then turned toward her.

“Excuse me, miss?” he said in his polite tone. The girl turned to him suddenly. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions concerning a science project I am working on for school.” He was met with a typical suspicious look, which then settled into complacency.
“Sure,” she said, “what’s it about?”
“Human skin sensitivity, according to height, weight, race, and gender.” Interested, the girl bade him go on. “I am doing this for the science fair at my school. It is a two part procedure which should last about five minutes.” He reached into his book bag, which was so well placed, and colored, it blended into his form, and pulled from it a black note book. He opened it and began to explain everything. “I have to record your height, weight and race along this section,” he said as he indicated, two numbers 4’5” 110lbs. And two letters, A.A. “Then I have to test the sensitivity of your left foot, right foot and both feet together, then the ribcage and both feet together to see if any sensitivity has changed over time. Once I have done that, you would give a number between one and five, five being the highest level, and one being the lowest level of sensitivity. And then that would be all. The procedure of the test is that I must touch the bottonm of the foot lightly with my fingers, and if you have socks on, I would encourage you to please keep them on. I do not wish for anyone to spread germs to anyone, nor would I wish for anyone to spread germs to me.” He stopped suddenly, “Not that you or I have germs of course. Not, harmful ones anyhow. And pnce we have done that, that would be all.” He laid his book down and folded his hands, and held the young lady’s gaze.
“Now, I hope I haven’t creeped you out or anything, I certainly do not wish to hurt anyone’s nerves. But I was hoping you’d be willing to spend a few minutes of your time to help me in my science project. It would be absolutely helpful, and no doubt, a new and adventurous experience.”
At the mention of adventurous, the young lady was stricken. She agreed.

The boy and girl found a bench in a sparsely visted park. There they commenced with the testing procedure.
“Your height?”
“5’5””
“Your weight?”
“160lbs.”
“You look very good for a 160.” he said without a hint of amusement in his voice. “your race?”
“African American.” then she said, “Black.”
“No, African American is good.”
“Okay.”
“And can you sign your name right here?” the boy said holding out a small book. He handed her a pen, and she signed her name. He looked at it, then looked at her. “Jnniqua Barnes?”
“Yeah.”
“Alrighty then Miss Jenniqua. Put your leg up here, and I’ll begin.” She did so, and he slowly peeled her right sneaker off.
“I hope my feet don’t stink much. They can really get funky on a day like this.”
“Don’t worry, your feet don’t smell as much as other peoples,” which was a lie. Her feet smelled like sweaty corn chips on a hot august day.

The boy raised his fingers to her socked sole, and tJenniqua realized what was going to happen.
“No, no!” she said before she collapsed into helless giggles. She didn’t know she was going to be tickled. She absolutely hated being tickled. This brought her back to the days when her brother and sister would tickle the breath out of her, because she was so ticklish, while they were not at all.
Her foot twitched violently, sexily, as she tried to move her captive foot away from the stranger’s tickling fingers.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He said suddenly, and he dug into his book bag. He pulled from it a camera and a tripod. “This procedure must be recorded as proof that the procedure has been done. After all, the teachers would never believe it if I merely told them I had done this.” He set the camera up and began to tickle her foot with a deliciously evil stroke. Firm, digging into her plump sock covered sole, the result was the extraction of a dubious array of belly laughter.
“Aaauuaaaaghhahahaaaa!” Was the first blast that erupted from her lips, followed by a chain of titters and squeals. She bent back on the bench and gave a huge scream which crumbled into giggles that spilled from her mouth. She felt her toes being tickled, and the boy’s warm grip on her feet, most likely sweaty fingers, going over every ticklish spot on her foot. Little did she actually know, that the sweaty hands which were gripping her truly ticklish toes, was the boy sucking her socked toes and nibbling them, getting sock lint in his nose, and on his lips, and all over his tongue. He licked the lint all over his tongue, then swallowed it.



Doctor Luis Girault, the youngest student to graduate from Harvard medical school in mortuary science, and at twenty-two, working for the Police Department as head coroner. The most likely to change the world, and to not falter under pressure, was now on the floor of the sound proof room, gawking at the phenomenon before him. The body that he was preparing to dissect was lying prone upon the table, when he had cut into her finger slightly. This proved to be a rather unique event, which he did not know the origin of. After all, it couldn’t be the body itself, it was dead. Nothing could move upon it, nothing would grow. It was not able to rise upon it’s own volition and accuse anyone, if anyone at all, of the accursed murder.

And yet, at this moment, the voice grew louder as the blade touched a nerve, not slicing into it, but merely touched its blade upon it. The voice grew into a scream, and looking up the body, Girault observed the twisted contortions of young “Annabel’s” face, contort into a scream. Girault was startled by this, and stumbled back, until he tripped over a stool and tumbled to the floor. This went against all the works of Tortorra and the anatomy texts in all of the world. No one ever spoke of a body screaming during coronation. This was beyond normal. It was Paranormal, and not one word in the bible could refute it.

“Good God…”Girault said as he came to his feet. The young woman’s head had turned to him. Her mouth was closed, and her eyes burned into his. She was angry, most definitely at being cut. Thankfully she wasn’[t cut so badly. She studied him with her dark, penetrating eyes. For almost a minute, there was a thick slab of verbal ice between the body and Girault. Then her mouth began to move. At first there wasn’t the slightest sound. Then after about ten seconds, there was a whine, which gradually formed into a young woman’s voice, Karimah’s Voice.
“Why am I on this table?”
“I-I thought you were dead.” The girl was silent for a moment. Then her eyes widened.
“Oh! Now I remember, you are doing an autopsy aren’t you?”
“Y-Yes.” he said controlling his voice, though not very well. He was still astounded at what was before him. A Cadaver was having a conversation with him! Could anything have been more outrageous?
“You were going to cut my eyeball,”
“But I didn’t.”
“Then you cut into my nerve,”
“All in the name of science.”
“How European and archaic.”
“I am neither.”
“You are witty. Yet you are also an ass. Do you realize that?”
No. He didn’t. He had never exhibited ass-like tendencies. He never was even called an ass. He never even understood what would have been pictured in someone’s mind when the person who first used that term, decided to use it on a person. But that was hardly the point of the matter at this time.
“How did you get like this?” the twenty-two year old asked as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.-
“I was attacked.”
“Well, that’s obvious, from the markings, the police said you had been raped,”
“I know very well what the police have said, I was awake since they laid their dingy, sweaty palms on me.” She said with a great amount of contempt in her voice.
“Well, I’ll clean you off. I am more antibacteriant than anyone I know.”
“I most certainly hope so.” Girault began to wash his hands of the chemicals, then put on a new pair of gloves, and brought some soap and a sponge to the table. He wet the sponge in a basin and poured some soap on it. Then he began to scrub Karimah’s skin lightly, so as not to be too rough on her delicate looking frame.
“So,” Girault said once he started. “Do you know what this guy lookas like?”
“It’s not a guy.”
“Girl?”
“It isn’t a human.”
“What is it then?”
“A Demon. One that disguises himself as a human.”
“What is it called?” He asked as he went down to her belly.
“I…will…tell…you…when…” She said in a very labored tone.
“When? When what?”
After breathing a few deep gulps of airplied, “When you stop tickling my stomach.”
“Oh!” Girault stopped immediately. “I am so sorry.”
“Thank you. It’s not that I hate being tickled, its just that, that was how I was paralyzed.”
“You mean last night?”
“DUH Doctor Girault, Duh.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I heard the medics talking about a Doctor Girault, and I saw your name tag.” She glanced at his chest, and there was a name tag reading, Luis Girault, Coroner, M.D. “Also, I want to thak you for what you said.”
“You told the officers to leave and have respect for the dead.”
“Oh! Yes. Your’e welcome. And what is this demon called?”
“Catastrophet.” At this, Girault stopped cold.
“C-Catastrophet?” he said, as his jaw trembled, and his hands shook the sponge this way and that along Karimah’s tummy. The Muscles twitched and her belly shuddered.
“Y-Yehehas! Stop Doctor Girault your tickling me again!” But Doctor Girault didn’t hear her, he was thrust back into his childhood. His mother and father did not approve of his seventeen year old sister having a relationship with a black boy from a city called Coccytus, New York. They had looked on the map to find Coccytus, but didn’t find it. He seemed nice enough though. He was handsome too, tall, thin, skin like pine bark, short, slick hair, and dark, eyes that could have allured, or forbode, depending on his tone.
Girault himself was similar in looks, with slick hair, tall, thin, and eyes that could send an emotion at the whim of a vocal nuance. But his skin was a yellowish complexion, mixed with the lightest brown. He was handsome, but a lonely person who had very few joys and many, many laments.
Suave, clever, and knowledgeable was the boy whom his sister, Jasenia was enamored with.
(cue Transiberian orchestra, Carol of the Bells)
The two spent all their time together, aside from school and work, they were inseparable Which made their deaths, that much more a tragedy. It was on Christmas eve, at eleven o’clock, The park was holding sleigh rides and offered couples, an hour ride for five dollars. The two walked up to the stand, in the falling snow, paid for their tickets, and one after another, Jasenia and her boyfriend climbed onto the sleigh, their cape like trench coats blowing in the gentle breeze. Jasenia looked at him, smiling with delight, her eyes sparkling with joy, content. The horse took off down the rood, dragging the sleigh. The driver smiled as Jasenia kissed her love on the cheek and he returned the kiss, saying to her softly, “may we be together for all time,” and her reply of, “yes, yes of course.”
The ride had gone smoothly for the first fifty minutes, and the carriage was on its way back to the starting point. Then, something disturbing happened. A dark beast flew from the trees and into the middle of the road. The Boyfriend saw it first and shouted to the driver, who, upon seeing it pulled at the reins of the horse.
A heart tearing neigh accompanied the horse’s increase in speed as it bowled over the beast. The starting point was at the end of a forest which took normally an hour to pass through, but with a carriage, took nine minutes. The forest was much ike an island within the park, as it was separated from land with a moat and a bridge went into it on one side and out of it ion the other.
Micholai, that was the boy’s name. He held Jasenia in his grip as they passed through the dark forest with tall trees looming over tem and passing them quickly. The roar of the beast behind them had to have been heard throughout the park itself. The creature was black, it was composed of an inky black material which seemed to suck all light into it. It moved like an ape, but also like a wolf. It moved quickly on all fours and leapt into the air, only to land short of the sleigh, but not by much.
Micholai pulled from his coat a pistol, which is why Jasenia’s parents did not favor him, aimed it at the closing beast, and fired once. The bullet went right through it, and out the rear end. But it fell for amoment, which gave the sleigh time to make distance. The beast lay crumpled for many moments, and was soon out of sight as the sleigh turned a corner. Four minutes passed in sience as the cariage drew to the bridge, now fifteen hundred meters away. The sight of the great tower in the park could be seen, and they knew they were almost out. And then it happened, a roar filled the trees, and then one by one, they began falling, pushed over by some unseen force. Looking behind them, Jasenia saw two huge eyes.
Eleven fifty-seven
The eyes stared at Jasenia with a murderous delight, the light from the eyes was dull, and hateful, and represented all that Jasenia feared and despised. Turning to see hwat the problem was now, Micholai saw the eyes, the color nearly draingin from his face, he said under his voice, “Oh Hell…”
A rock flew from the brush and whacked the driver in the face, knocking him out cold. He slumped backward and between Micholai and Jasenia, Micholai knew what he had to do. He climbed forward and took the reins, and ducking as another rock bounced over his head.
He snapped the reins and he horse bolted through the forest, trees falling all over, and crashing into the earth all about it.
Eleven fifty-eight
The people heard the ruckus and made their way to the bridge which joined the island to the land. They heard roars, unearthly roars, daemon roars, and they heard the galloping of horses. They stood back in fear for a moment, but then, enacted the safety measure, one put in bny a parabnois architect in just such an occaision.
“Release the fuel!” the supervicor shouted. Immediately the five men in the group flicked switches all over the bridge post, which released a deadly mixture of kerosene, gasoline, and black gunpowder. It lathered all over the bridge, coating it like honey on a pancake.
Eleven Fifty-nine
“Micholai!” Jasenia said as he turned the corner. She looked around and saw him holding the reins, and saw his gun. She considered her next action carefully, Micholai took out his gun and handed it to her without even looking at her. She turned to the back of the sleigh and shot at the beast which had been put down by Micholai earlier. The beast almost dodged the shot. The sleigh turned once more and they were in sight of the bridge. As they left the forest and came upon the two thousand foot long bridge, a great roar escaped the trees.
“Micholai!” Was the one word carried by the roar.
Then ahead the horse shrieked. Looking forward, both Micholai and Jasenia were filled with fear. Flames ran toward them, and burst into high columns at the increments approximated by the posts on the bridge itself.
Eleven fifty-nine before the carriage enters the bridge.
The supervisor, a dark haired woman with siklver eyes and a sharp nose, watched the men in her entourage as they released the flammable concoction from the bridge’s posts. The paranoia would be the most efficient method for her next action, and she thanked the gods, Yahweh and Satan, her own personal god, for the event. In her heart, all angels must fall, and Micholai and Jasenia with them.
“It is a demonic porresence in the forest! We shall not allow them to cros this bridge!” She shouted.”Return to the land!”
As the sleigh moved onto the bridge, the woman said to herself, May you rot and burn in heavenly fire.
She then lit her lighter, a pure silver one with an engraving that had been scratched upon it. The fire gre quickly, too quickly for normal fire, and thus flew down the bridge’s length.
Upon seeing the sleigh upon the bridge, a woman beside the syupervisor grabbed the supervisor by the shoulders.
“What are you doing?” she screamed, but was silenced by the next moment, the supervisor’s pale face turned dark and rotten as the skin disintegrated like some sort of vaporous chemical. And a skeleton was there, and upon letting go of the woman, the skeleton fell to the ground in dust, and the hair itself sizzled like fuses of fireworks. The older woman stood in disbelief as did all the people around them.
Twelve O’clock, Christmas Day
The sleigh bounced along the bridge as the flames came closer.and Jasenia and Micholai could see the flames were not just fire, but were dogs, rottweilers in fact, lean and brisk rottweilers and their teeth were bared, and could easily be seen within their bright orange forms.
The horse galloped over a hole that had burned into the bridge planks. Micholai saw it and grabbed Jasenia up into his arms, just as the sleigh hit the bump. It dipped down at the back, then rolled out. A move that would have tossed her out of the carriage and into the fire. The carriage had caught fire, as did the horse, and now they were coming out into the open, nearing the people at the foot of the bridge. The horse was screaming and neighing in the flames that covered it as it dashed through. To the persons at the foot of the bridge, they looked like devils from hell, and they too could see the rottweilers and could hear their barks. The group of people parted and ran as the sleigh flew through the bridge and onto the land of the park, and out of it into the busy city streets. Hundreds of hellhounds flew into the streets, and attacked random people, people flamed up andf ran about desperate to keep the flames off them.
The horse ran through an intersection and caused two cars to collide, then when it seemed like the two had lost all their senses and began fighting, they were consumed by the hounds. Their screames filled both Jasenia’s and Micholai’s ears. The horse screamed on, still aflame, and quickly dying. And suddenly, it just stopped, succumbed to its flaming doom, and fell to the street, and causing the sleight to hit it, flip into the air, and sending Jasenia face first into the asphalt. She didn’t even have enough time to get up when the sleigh landed upon her, severing her head from her own shoulders.
Micholai was shocked, he could only sit where he landed and watch as the rottweilers circled her faster and faster, until they became a ring of fire, hundreds upon hundreds of them. Somehow he had broken from the icy grip of shock, and dashed into the fire to save Jasenia, though it was too late and he knew it.
He landed on the other side of the wall of flames in time to see the tall, dark figure in a grayish green cloak kneel down and pick up a body from the wrecked carriage. It wasn’t the physical body of Jasenia, it was her spirit. She glowed beautifully with a bluish white light. The figure was twice micholai’s size and looked at him.
“You Lose.” the figure said and then snapped its fingers. Its hands were covered in a grayish brown skin and was leathery. The spirit faded, and as it faded, Jasenia had a terrified lok upon her face.
“Help me Micholai!” Were the last he heard from her before she disappeared forever.
“You have lost Malachai. Your wager has been paid, and you may return to Hell with your friend.
“No! No!!” Micholai shouted with anger and ran at him. He leapt into the air and charged the being who disappeared slowly, delivering a bone shattering smack to micholai’s face. He tumbled to the ground.
“Know me well Malachai. For I am your doom, and I will be back for you. I am Catastrophet.” he said before fading completely.
Luis Girault woke from his nightmare only moments after the incident. He woke his mother and father and brothers and sisters. He told them of his dream and the others laughed at his active imagination and putting it off as a product of it. Then the call came in. An accident had happened on the sleigh ride and Micholai was at the hospital, no word on Jasenia. Nervous, everyone went to the hospital,.
The hospital reminded Luis of a prison of white. With sick people all over the place, an institution which did well to keep up a façade of decay. The twelve people were led by the nurse to Micholai’s room, and found him lying in a bed, asleep. The nurse was about to send everyone out when he said quickly and with much annoyance.
“I am lying here and silent but I am not unconscious.” Annoyed, the nurse allowed the family in.
“What happened?” asked the mother on the verge of tears. Everyone around the bed looked on.
“Jasenia is dead,” at this the mother broke down and looked up to the ceiling. Then Micholai added, “beheaded.” that didn’t help. Micholai began to relate the story to the family, and they found it strikingly similar to whaty Luis had told them.
“Luis, six years old at the time, walked up to his side of the bed and sat on the table. “Micholai, what’s a Malachai?”
He glanced at Luis for a slight moment, then said to everyone, “A Guardian.”
“What are youtalking about?”
“I am not a refular perason, That is, I am not a human. I am an angel. And I was sent to guard Jasenia from the evils of Catastrophet..”
“You are yanking our chains man!” onwe of the brothers said.
“I wouldn’t be telling you this if it weren’t a lie.”
“Angels are forbidden to have sexual relations with humans.”
“we never had sex.”
“But-but-,”
“And so, I sit here, having failed my self and my creator. And there before me is Catastrophet., he intends to take my soul, and apparently he will--” Micholai never finished the sentence. He flew into a siezure, and then died.
Luis Girault’s flash back ended abruptly, and he was stil staring into the wall. Karimah was shrieking with laighter, now that the movement in her body came back, and she could move her back.
“Doctor Girault! Doctor Girault!” She screamed. Girault turned dazed, and then realized what was going on.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” he said yanking the spnge away from the now clean tummy.

“Oh god!” Jenniqua tittered as the boy began licking her soles. Her toes wriggled madly and she guffawed and rolled on the dirt, messing up her shirt. The boy stopped, having licked her feet for five minutes. The girl herself wasglad to be done, after all, she was losing her breah.
“I thank you Jenniqua for your help.”
“Your welcome.”
“You have won also.”
“Won?” she turned to the boy, whose face had become leathery and grayish brown. His white eyes had bulged from the sockets.and his teeth were canine and yellow. He lunged upon her, tickling her ribs, and making her laugh as he devoured her. She screamed as the teeth cut into her flesh. And her nearby adidas were spattered with blood.

 

[limbo123]

hmmmm
tickling....suspence
amazing i love it
this story ohhhh the detail
hmmmm i did indeed love the second story
it seems demons these days dont just eat their food
....they tease them to
continue
for this story is great
and i will continue to read

 

[Journia]

Thanks. Its almost done.

 

[Journia]

Next Week, Chapter 3 of The Battles of Mirth and Malice

 

[melanie2]

uh next week??? that was like two months ago..you have some catching up to do there young man....

and "Her feet smelled like sweaty corn chips on a hot august day".

ewwwwwwwwww that is totally disgusting..but you can't quit now..you have two stories you simply have to finish...

love it..love it so far...you can create such an atmosphere that draws one right into it...and hmm is that how you got that girl to agree to you tickling her foot at the bus stop??? tsk tsk tsk...

 

[Bashiku]

I will use my 999th post for this. Believe in yourself and let the force be with you! Now back to the work!!

 

[sadi]

Very interesting story. Really original and well done. :happy: