Chapter
1; thoughts of a wicked mind
Her life was taken, a single bullet encased in her bloody
chest. Her white shirt stained red as the wine on our wedding day. Her future
was wiped clean by those monsters that envied her success. Her body trembled as
she struggled to breathe. In her face I saw that each strained movement caused
her immense agony.
“Lie still sweetie” I said through heavy tears, “you’ll
be all right “I knew I was fooling myself I knew she was dying and I knew
denying would only make me suffer. For now that didn’t matter I had to give her
hope even if I had none to offer.
“I love you” she mouthed, unable to speak. I had never
felt pain as this before. It was as if a piece of me was missing. My crying
became sobbing as her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her skin was so pale
it could not be described as any other color but death. The pool of blood
around us grew as the life flowed from the wound. Christine took her last
breath, and I could feel my heart dying with hers. I let out a cry of grief,
and longing to go wherever she had went. This longing dug so deep it penetrated
my very soul. I gently set my wife’s body down and retrieved the pistol that
had taken this beautiful woman away from me. The metal was cold in my unsteady
hand. My breath began to slow. I turned towards Christine and held the gun to
my temple.
“I can’t live without you, see you in heaven my love “I
instantly pulled the trigger. I felt no pain, no grief, no sorrow, just darkness.
I woke up in a dim place, surely heaven isn’t this dark.
I get up and I hear something crunching under my feet. I walked a while looking
for some clue as to where I was at
“Christine” I called “Christine”
no matter how many times I called she wouldn’t answer. After what seemed
like walking for ages, I came across two giant archways that illuminated the
area. I was standing on bones, bloody human bodys caked in masses of blood. Massive
piles of body’s surrounded me each bleeding and deformed. Some twitched in
anguish and tried to grab my ankles. As I attempted to get away but they pulled
me down into the sea of blood. They held me just above the surface as I
struggled against them. Through the first archway appeared an angel. She was
draped in golden robes and her long curly hair fell down her back. When she got
closer I realized who she was, Christine
“Christine, help….please” I begged struggling against the
grotesque creatures holding me back. She held up her hand and whispered
something I could not hear. The bloody body released me and I swam to the
surface.
“This is wonderful, to see you…you……not dead” I choked up
on my words not knowing what to say to such an angelic face. Her face turned
stone cold and her eyes icy
“I have made it to heaven” she says smoothly “but you
have committed the ultimate sin. We cannot reside together” it didn’t even seem
that she cared.
The second archway became engulfed in flame. Christine’s
chest began to bleed as if something was forcing its way out of her body. Black
bloody hand began ripping away her soft beautiful skin revealing rippling
muscles and veins .I cried out wanting it to stop. I had no desire to see
anymore. Whatever was inside her was increasing in size and violently thrashing
to get out. Emerging from what was once the most beautiful woman I had ever
laid eyes on seemed to be a burned two leg, winged creature. Its skin was the
color of scarlet with black burns and wounds. The thing had a flat face and
pure black eyes. It had a smirk on its face as if it enjoyed the fear I was
feeling. I was stuck I could not physically move which only added to my rising
fear. I struggled against the power that bonded me and fell over unable to
return to my feet.
The creature must have stood about eight feet tall. From
the ground it seemed even taller. It stood over me and chuckled, as the ground
engulfed in flames. I screamed out in agony, but the creature merely laughed. I
wished to die but I knew I was already there. I could only hope for mercy as
the fire pierced my body. The pain only intensified the harder I struggled, and
cried out. The creature turned and spoke in a taunting voice. “You might know
me as satin, welcome to hell”
Three long years, 400 twisted
psychotic pages, and it was finished. I had a good feeling this would be my
bestselling novel yet. The more grotesque my work gets the more my readers
divulge into the depths of my mind. The pages full of the dreams that have
haunted me for a life time were now in brilliant vivid detail. I just knew the
completion of a new masterpiece would only ensue a new recurring nightmare.
I’ve always wondered what people
would think of me if they knew I actually seen these images in my head. It’s
amazing that I haven’t already been sent to an intuition.
I stand up only to fall back into my
desk chair, four hours of typing will do that. I stretch my stiff legs and
hobble to the kitchen. After eating I decide to lie down. I am lulled to sleep
by simple thoughts of another bestselling book.
A foggy mist covered the freshly cut grass
that felt soft on my bare feet. There was a slight chill that made me shiver.
In my head I felt the need to keep walking but I sensed nothing good was going
to be at my destination. The fog began to twist and swirl in the breeze. It eventually
took the shape of a woman who looked disgruntled and tired. The woman looked at
me with cold eyes and let out a scream that I felt could split my very skull. I
couldn’t see as the fog crowded around
me.
“You killed her, she was my baby,” she
wailed. I covered my ears until I realized the screaming was in my head.
“What…I didn’t…please!” I begged for the torment to end
“Liar, filthy liar…my baby, my baby” she cried. Her shrieks
grew louder with each word. Each sentence was filled with agony and pain, a
mother without her child. She was so desperate and distraught. The screams
became unbearable.
I sat strait up in bed realizing
that the screams were my own. My heart pounded as beads of sweat poured down my
face. I began to wonder if this was the new vision that would soon haunt me
every time I closed my eyes.
I took the small booklet laying on my bedside
table to write down the dream. I laid back down in an attempt to go to sleep
but I couldn’t help to think, what happened to that child? It sounded like the
most stupid thing I could have ever asked myself. It was all just a dream
right? All my other dreams just caused pain to me, never anybody else. Why would
it all of a sudden change? The unanswered questions kept me awake for
hours. Once I fall asleep I am only
woken by the screams of the mother. The dream made no sense but it would make
one great novel if I just knew more.
About the fifth time the misty-eyed and desperate woman awoke
me my head ached from her pleading cries. This had changed everything I had
ever known about my abnormal nightmares. Over the years I had gotten used to my
own subconscious agony. Watching someone else in pain was a new and horrible torture,
yet I couldn’t help but to be thankful it wasn’t me who was in pain. In a way
it was a nice change. She clearly never existed so no one was in agony which
justified my terrible thoughts. At least that’s what I told myself. I gave up on my hopeless quest for a solid
slumber. I sighed, for what was there to do at four in the morning but start on
the daily house work.
I began by striping the bed and washing the lavender sheets.
I moved downstairs to the bright and spotless kitchen and scrubbed it until it
reeked with bleach and chemicals. In my living room I vacuumed, dusted and
washed the four large windows. I beat the old red velvet cushions as well as
the floor rug that resided on the hardwood. Next I sweep the elegant entrance
hallway by the large staircase. It had posts of dark cherry wood and rails of
marble white. Paintings were strung about the high walls giving life to the
elaborate home.
No one could question I was a clean freak, nor could I deny
it. By the time I perfected my already spotless home it was nearing noon. I now
believed I had the capability to face my thoughts. I walked to the back of the
grand Victorian house to a large room which contained an art studio. It was
filled with canvas, paint seven easels and one solitary stool. I breathed in
the smell of the plaster and oil smiling at the peace it gave me. The paintings
up front contained the images of my most recent work. The first large paintings
contained the two large gates that I was positive represented heaven and hell.
The first had a golden glow that had an essence of peace as you focused on it.
It had carvings of Jesus and all stories’ surrounding the traditional religion.
Many angels climbed up its tall large sides expanding above the archway
creating a curtain of beauty around the center.
The second arch had no glow but was carved with shining
representation of purgatory in a metallic red color. It would induce fear into
anyone who stared into its dark depths.
I painted each gate several times, each one gaining detail as
my dreams progressed. The canvas gave a
firsthand look straight into my minds vision. I gather my materials and sit
down on my stool. I swirl silver, white and ashy colors to form the mist that
soon shaped the distressed woman. Her wild chestnut hair formed loosely around
her tear socked face. Highlights were used to bring out the true terror in her
face. Her forehead creased with worry on her pale ivy skin. Her white floor
length night gown was splotched red with splattered blood. Stepping back from
the painting I began to wonder whose blood was it, hers or her daughters?
Only another night of
torment would reveal any more clues as to what happened to the woman. I now was
positive this will make a killer novel once all the pieces are in place. I rub
my eyes with exhaustion from my previous choppy sleep and cleaning spree.
Standing from my stool the woman’s eyes plead to me it was
almost impossible to turn away from them. Almost. I hurried to the kitchen
before the eyes could catch me in its compelling grip. I couldn’t understand
why this dream was so much more real than all the rest. It stuck out in my mind
more than meeting satin face to face. I tend to do that a lot. The smell of
chemicals filled my nose as I walked in. to most people it would have burned
the eyes and throat but to me it smelled clean and inviting. I grab an apple
from an organized drawer in the pantry, savoring its ripe and crisp taste.
I follow the hallway into my office. A single computer sat on
the desk along with a small cup of pens. I quickly walk over to it and replace
the pen that still remained on the dark wood. I place it carefully making sure
the cap was pointing up. I straitened some scattered papers before I declared
the room appropriate to work.
I open up my email and send a message to Mary Tolken, my
chubby classy publisher.
Dear Mary
I have completed my
novel Depths of the Devil, and would love to schedule a meeting with you
to discuss terms of publishing.
Sincerely
Chastity Greyland
I
started to delete my junk mail, mostly from fans that I cared nothing about,
when I stopped at a very unusual one.
Giving the kind of messed up ligature I write it isn’t strange to
receive out of the ordinary messages from fans that I assume are just as psychotic
as me. But this one stuck out like a sore thumb. The sender was a girl named
Kaitlin Divine, and the subject was a single word that made my heart leap out
of my chest, Dreams. I very hesitantly opened the email.
Dear
Chastity Greyland,
My name is Kaitlin Divine; I don’t
intend to beat around the bush per say so I’m going to tell you strait out what
I think. I share your curse of your recurring nightmares. I personally was
hoping to find a way to stop them and I don’t know who to turn to please respond
back. I’d like to know I’m not crazy.
I
gaped at the computer open mouthed and nearly choked. Anybody standing around
would have thought I was suffering from a heart attack. It made her almost
angry that someone knew. She never voiced her thoughts they stayed in her head.
I was now fuming. These crazy, demented dreams are how I make living without
them I would live in a box not my grandmothers mansion. The bitch has some
nerve to assume I would want to be rid of these dreams. I picked up the jar of pens
and smashed it against the wall. I busy myself picking up each of the glass
shards. My anger was bubbling and attempted to boil over. Ding, the computer
rang out in the silent room.
“Shut
up!” I screamed at it, losing my voice in the process. Immediately I start
laughing at myself. I find myself on the floor curled up in a ball. I had
completely lost it. My hysterics lasted
round about fifteen minutes. I managed to pull my small body up into my chair
and open the email.
Dear
Chastity,
I am immensely pleased to hear you
have finished another novel. I would be delighted to have you at my office on
Wednesday at seven in the evening. With that said as usual I’m going to need a
manuscript to preview.
Sincerely
Mary Tolken
CEO, Tolken and Works publishing
The message seemed to temporally calm my
rampage. I only had to wait for two days to be validated that I had wonderful
writing ability’s. Not to mention I was absolutely insane thinking up such a
demonic plotline. I gave myself a grin for those were the two facts about me I
loved to hear from others. My smile widened. I slid my hands through my curls
letting my thoughts wander this was going to be a great meeting. This Kaitlin
girl would not fuck this up; I was not crazy I was meant to have these dreams. I
was destined to write these novels.
My
day passed with the normal cleaning laundry and uneventful stupor it usually
held. I printed the long 400 page manuscript, which took most of the day and
three cartridges of ink. My true interest was in my nightmare tonight and what
kind of novel it would turn out to be.
Finally
it was an acceptable time to get ready for bed. I ready myself by putting on my
knee long white satin nightgown and detangling my dark red curls. I took some
unnecessary Benadryl to insure a complete and novel worthy dream.
I
turn down the bed and lay motionless, waiting for the drugs to take hold of my
consciousness. I roll over to get comfortable to come face to face with a young
girl. I sat strait up, startled by her presence. Her chestnut hair fell over
her face. She pushed it out of her face to unveil her piercing blue eyes.
“Hi”
she smiled an innocent little smile.
“Hello?”
I said after a short pause. She didn’t seem to notice that she was lying in
some strange woman’s bed, which happened to be staring at her like she had
three heads. “Umm….. Who are you?” I cautiously asked.
“You’re
silly, you know me.” She giggled. Her eyes told me that she truly believed I
knew her. Her eyes got sad “you do remember me, don’t you Chastity”.
I
shook my head slowly, staring at her with curiosity. “You said we were friends”
I was speechless as her eyes welled with tears. She opened her mouth and let
out a scream that echoed in my head. Knowing that it was a dream the screaming
didn’t bother me. In a way, it comforted me that I wasn’t in pain for once.
Besides I hate kids, they whine.
What
did bother me however was how familiar she looked to me. I was sure I had seen
her before. Her tantrum ended with the world falling out from under me. I felt
a cold rush of wind rush past me as I fell. It felt good, it felt free.
After
what seemed like a long decent my feet hit ground and my head collided with my
table. Thunk, I lifted my hand to my
head in pain. The clock stated that I had slept all night while eating my
dinner. I felt refreshed and energetic despite my stiff back. I take a hot
shower letting the hot water run over my naked body. The heat untangled my
muscles that had been so unwilling to unclench. Maybe that’s what I get for
spending the night in a wooden chair. My spotless home beckoned to be clean
after my shower, and got to work appeasing its desire for perfection
