This is different than my usual style, but I'm excited to have actually finished something that's longer than two pages!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
They say when you first lay eyes on Him, your soul will freeze and your heart will be soft and supple as pudding.
How random, you think.
“What an odd way to describe someone,” you murmur to yourself as you walk the long winding path to the fabled location to his gabled home.
But you heard from rumors, the ones that only the wind itself is bold enough to repeat, that there's something worth dying for, and you always fancied the idea of a dramatic, heroic death. What you forget to ask the wind is: Is there something worth killing over? Because you're on the way there to kill, whether you know it or not.
You pause about three yards from his impressive front door. It's a gaudy door with elaborate embellishments made of black marble, and a finish so glossy that you can see your entire life reflected back at you, up until the moment you stood before it with wide eyes filled with wonder and a mouth drooped open, sagging with greed. Your hand rises to knock involuntarily, and you find yourself pounding an invisible wall.
“WHAT!?” yells a voice, terrifying and riveting as thunder itself, but smoother than silk, lovelier than the prettiest orchid and hollower than the deepest black hole. It's sound alone sucks you in, twisting. You're wishing you had closed you're greedy mouth for fear your entrails might come out. The gaudy doors swing open. Now you're alone, in an impressively over decorated ten by ten abode. You land there with a slightly painful snap like a rubber band stretched too far, the released.
But you can feel those ruby red eyes on you. You can feel them so well it's as if you feel them with your skin: eyes made of actual ruby with obsidian for pupils and pearl for light. Greed weighs your chin again, now you've gone and let the monster in, he hops right of your gaped mouth and twists it into a blissful grin. Now there's two in this room, and one of them looks just like you, but it's not you. It doesn't move when you tell it to. It doesn't scream, it doesn't cry, it doesn't get frustrated.
He blinks, waving his deliciously long eyelashes.
Something in your heart stirs.
What happened to you courage?
“What brings you here?” he asks in a voice like an earthquake made of suede.
You regain use of your body and promptly draw your weapon: a pistol? A boy and arrow? A spear? A knife? You can't even remember what your wielding but you know you've got it pointed at him and your stomach is churning so hard you feel like you're boiling from the inside.
“I came here because the wind told me you have something worth dying for!” you shout, not meaning to sound so foolish. The truth is often more silly when spoken than it is when it's hiding in your heart, you think, remembering something an old drunk once told you after an argument about saltines.
He smiles a crooked smile, flashing an excellent array of 72 jagged, honey wood teeth. His face. That's when you notice how beautiful his face is, and his skin is a splendid array of vibrant jewels. The green flame of the torch he carries reflects off of those lovely gems, and dances among the purples, blues, and oranges in perfect harmony.
“So you've come here to die,” he says.
“ I've come here to rob you,” you lie.
He chuckles and your heart nearly jumps right out of your body.
“ Never have I met a petty thief who wants to die like a hero,” he says as if he read your very soul, “ What manner of being are you?”
You don't understand the question.
“I'll make you a deal,” he continues, now pacing the embellished, box of a room, “ Leave here alive and take everything you see. You'll be richer than a king and more powerful than an emperor. Die here, and you'll live with me, alone, for the rest of eternity, or until I'm killed by a more powerful being.”
How hard could it be to escape a ten by ten room?
He laughs a laugh like an avalanche made of honey, and the entire room quakes in time with it. The hardwood floors fall beneath you and form a spiral stairwell that looks deep enough to descend into hell itself. He now stands, upside down on the ceiling, his terrible, tantalizing eyes level with yours. You swallow.
He hands you a tiny, tan, pouch that's unimpressive in every way.
“Everything you see and want will appear in his bag, so you can carry it all easily, no matter the size or weight.”
The paintings on the wall almost instantly disappear, shrinking into your bag, revealing the dusty, cobweb laden windows. Out of them, you see that the hill you climbed to get here has become a steep mountain, it's base is hidden by clouds.
The items in the room disappear rather quickly, and you tie the small pouch around your neck.
He whispers, “ I'll give you a head start,” and you run down the staircase before he tells you how much time you have to live.
The items along the walls disappear as you run down the staircase, exposing horrors you weren't prepared to see. A human skull hides behind that lamp. There's a window behind that painting, but when you look outside the window …
Don't look outside the window.
You descend first one step at a time, then two, then three. Now you're leaping from on side of the spiral staircase to another.
Anything to gt away from the mess you've made. Anything to keep your treasures. Anything to risk your life.
You keep glancing at the gold plated light fixtures, so they keep disappearing. Now you're running in the dark, and you cant afford to make those leaps blindly.
The stairwell is a labyrinth and you're lost. You find yourself running into walls and having to go back up, just to go right back down again.
You've forgotten how long you've been running. You've forgotten what you're running from, and where you're running to. You're lost. You've stopped running. You're just wandering around.
You don't know that ten days have already passed.
A voice like an erupting volcano wrapped in slick satin cloth invades you.
Now you remember; HIM.
“I found you,” he sings, and your heart nearly shatters.
You try to run again but he's faster than you. Before you can pivot, he's pressed his pretty palms against the peak of your pelvis. Now he's swung you around by your hip, and wrapped five, long, fingers around your throat.
“Let's marry,” he says, squeezing. His voice shakes your very bones.
His plump lips are curved into a pristine smile.
Thanks for reading!