- Books, Literature, and Writing
It was late afternoon. Little Sohphie was making her way back to her home. The ground was saturated with last night's rain. Her feet stamped, sloshed through dirty water. The wind and mud had almost defeated her, having almost fallen over a few times on the ground and using her hands. As a result her hands and boots were splattered with mud like some artist had flicked paint over her.
Sohphie trudged over the field, stomping through puddles and weaving behind trees. The trees rustling with the wind. Spooky for some, but it didn't bother her. Her home, rose into view, an old looking building, with windows that were hanging on their hinges. Parts of the roof had given way.
As she made a few more steps, her eyes flickered to the ground over the side. There were old dolls that had been thrown out that were years old--as long as Sohphie could remember being here but she didn't have the strength to move them now. It would be painful. Plus they scared away people. She could recall one night when these little boys had gotten lost, and were coming over towards the house. She had animated the dolls and sent them on their way. So they frightened people.
Or at least, most, she thought as she came out from behind another tree. A tall, spindly figure was standing next too what could be described as a cage. Locking away a small figure that peeked behind the gaps in the wood. Even from this distance, she could smell his fear.
"Did you get the things?" The figure snapped, turning to look at Sophie with those malicious eyes.
"Yep!" She replied cheerily.
"Good. Now time for the sacrifice."
Sohphie placed the bucket down on the ground, it's contents were a few bones and other relics as well as a fresh corpse.
She then happily watched with inquisitive eyes as he began prepping it.
She looked at the boy occasionally. "Don't worry, it's no worse than having a needle through the arm."
"I...h-hate needles.." The boy whimpered, tears in his eyes.
Why do they always cry? She wondered as the man started boiling a caldron. He began muttering incantations.
She felt her heart skip a beat. This was really happening again! She had been waiting so long for this. "So what happens now?"
"Almost ready..." He said as he dropped some of the bones into the steamy water.
"And now?" Sohphie said.
"The fresh corpse.." He cut the flesh with a knife, blood trickled down inside.
"Time for the boy." The figure said coldly. It's eyes emotionless. Any normal person would be wetting their little girl panties but not Little Sohphie. She might be small in size but she was stronger than them. A normal person might be afraid of spiders, but she welcomed them as pets.
Less than 10 minutes later, to their disappointment the boy didn't really struggle but they were now feeling euphoric. An elixir. Blood dripping from their hands and teeth. There was steam still rising from the pot, it's contents almost empty. Only a remnant of what had been before--a few bones behind. But nothing too much. It was a feast for kings. A ritual. Sohphie felt ten years younger now and of course it was her first time at the age of thirty. She would still have to eat physically to sustain her, but these rituals sustained her spiritually.
That night she slept like a baby, up in her room. Little Sohphie, wrapped up in her furs in layers of clothing. The wind howled outside. So loud. Woosh! Woosh! Woosh! She turned over in bed a few times, but her dreams, kept making her wake up in the night. Strange dreams. She was dreaming from the events today, but her in the place of the boy. Was this normal? Sohphie wondered, opening her eyes again. She would have to talk to the master in the morning. Or maybe it was a side affect from devouring someone else.
You ate me. A quiet voice said.
'Huh?' Sohphie shot up straight. "Someone there?"
You will pay for what you did.
"I didn't do anything wrong." Sohphie was growing alarmingly aware that there was no one else in the room. In my head? She thought.
You did and you will suffer.
"Hell's bells, will I be able to sleep first?"
Almost as an answer, pain shot through her chest like an arrow. She instinctively clutched her stomach. "Owie!" She mumbled, then cried, "Stop!"
Kill the master.
He deserves to die. He will die.
She tried to struggle with this but she still found herself going over to the door, opening it up. She trembled, and struggled, but the voice was driving her downstairs. She fetched a knife.
"I can't do this!" She shrieked.
And she did exactly that, she wandered downstairs, the basement, the master's room. She felt a jab of pain again in her stomach. She felt a warm patch grow between her legs in fear.
Little Sohphie get a grip. Open the door.
"Why didn't he mention this?"
He didn't realise I wasn't human. The fool.
Or rather the boy had an entity attached to him.
Sohphie gripped the cold door knob and turned it, the door sliding open, creaking on old hinges. She slipped in and wandered over to the bed. The master was sleeping. Her body kept trembling. Everything in her was telling her to go back to bed, none of this was real, yet the voice was saying otherwise. She leaned up along the side of the bed and slit his throat. Green blood gushed out. She fell backwards. And everything seemed to go very fast then. Blurry. There was a crackle like thunder, with a flash of green light that came straight of Sohphie's body. She fell backward hitting the floor with a thump.
Little Sohphie, little Sohphie all alone now. All alone. Silly girl.
Sohphie stared up at the entity, that distorted the air before it was gone like a candle light being extinguished. She was all alone. Nobody would be coming to save Little Sohphie.