Chapter One

The man was quietly settling down for his night’s sleep. His light brown hair was receding upon his skull, up from his forehead of worry wrinkles. His large, brown eyes were on either side of his broad, crooked nose. His yellowing buck teeth barely showed through his slightly parted, thin lips. His double chin offset his face and his large potbelly grumbled as he lumbered from room to room, turning off the dim lights.

At last, when the creaky old house was silent and dark, he settled in his bed, taking one last look around his small, poorly lit bedroom.

With the busy day’s activities still buzzing in his head, he turned off the bedside table lamp and rolled over, now enveloped in the darkness of his room, left to his thoughts, and peace of mind.

The room was completely dark, except for the moonlight that faintly shone upon the floor of his bedroom from under the blinds, illuminating the hollow, stretching cracks, grasping like fingers for the bare walls.

The soft, strange sound of creaking floorboards caused the man to open his eyes in curiosity- but it ceased.

Eyes still open, he heard the precarious noise once again, a gently, almost inaudible click, and the slightest of creaks; only a slight pressure that caused the boards to scream an uninvited presence.

He listened again, and without disappointment, he heard it.

Curiosity crept over the man’s mind, engulfing him completely, as a million questions ran through his mind.

Terror seized those thoughts as well, causing his heart beat to increase slightly, but he held his thin lips shut, barely daring to breathe for fear of missing it again.

As quietly as he possibly could, he rolled over, and switched on the bedside lamp.

The man was almost expecting nothing, a mere trick of his tired mind, but there in the middle of his room stood a young woman.

He watched her eyes quickly dilate to the sudden light in the small space.

The young woman could be no older than her early twenties. She was of average height, but was very petite.

Her angular face was dainty, with a sharp cut jaw line, covered in a canvas of pale, almost white, skin. The top half was covered in an elegantly, simple black mask, but no one could miss the big, shining eyes, that seemed entirely to be the equivalent blackness of coal, studded with long black lashes. Her black hair was parted to one side and hung in long, loose black curls that were accented by the light. A blood red ribbon was tied into a bow into one small clump of black hair, up near her scalp on the left side of her head; almost in a childish fashion.

Her shoulders and neck were thin, the hollow parts between the bones gently accentuated by the slight lapses in pale skin. The dress she wore had no straps, but clung to her midsection and hung freely from her waist to just above her knees. The dress was made of shiny black silk, and overlain with ruffled black lace.

Bright red sandals clung to her feet, with heels about three inches. The straps wound elegantly up her thin calves, and tied in neat little bows behind her knees.

Her tiny hand with sheathed in black, leather gloves, that ended abruptly at her wrists.

“Good evening.” She greeted him, her voice soft and sweet, irresistible; yet dangerous. A small, wry smile played upon her lips, coloured the colour of drying, slightly blackened, yet lush red blood.

The man, overlooking the underlying dangerous tones in the woman’s voice, and feeling no harm from the petite woman standing in front of him, he smirked, and replied, “And who might you be?”

Her face was calm and collected, only a small, slightly amused smile still played upon her soft lips, contradicting the serious, authorative stance of her body.

Slowly, gracefully, and eerily silent in her three each heels, she sauntered over to the side of his bed, and sat upon the edge, leaning close.

The man became slightly uneasy, and sat up straighter, tensing slightly. She flashed him a reassuring, yet slightly mocking smile, as she pulled out a bright red, silk tie from the top of her beautiful black dress.

Her smile disappeared as she leaned closer, looping the tie around the back of his head. Her face turned from one of amusement, to one of dire concentration, and something almost trance-like.

Her captivating black eyes met his as she began tying it, and he felt as if he were staring into a chasm of a bittersweet nightmare. He felt slightly uncomfortable with the attractive woman invading his house, but he felt as if he never wanted her to leave. He could not tear his eyes from hers.

She finished tying the tie, and stood from his bed.

With another self-assured, wry smile, she softly, endearingly said, “You have one week to live.”

She graciously curtsied, and eerily silent in her strappy, heeled sandals, she disappeared out his bedroom door and back into the dark house.

Stunned, the man looked to his chest for the tie to ensure the gorgeous woman had not been a dream.

And there, on his chest, was the blood red, silk tie; tied in the fashion of a noose.

 

 

 

 

 

             The man stood in his bedroom. It was Sunday night, exactly one week since the mysterious visit from the beautiful woman. The house was dark, and completely silent. There were no clicks and creaks. He looked at his alarm clock. It was 11:30, precisely. The man laughed to himself, with a smug smile. As beautiful as the woman had been, she could not have been more wrong.

             The man walked slowly to his closet. Pulling open the wooden hinged doors, he pulled open the top drawer of his dresser inside and pulled out the red silk tie. He slid the smooth fabric between his forefinger and thumb, feeling it slide gently through them, and imagining that would be what it was like to run his hands through the woman's fine, black hair, over her thin, pale skin.

             He wondered why the beautiful woman had so greatly distressed him that night. She was so small, he could have easily overpowered her.

             He raised the tie to his nose, tyring to recapture her smell. He had been trying to place her smell all week, it was impossible. It was musty, yet pleasant. sweet but dangerous; natural but irresistable. The tie held no scent of it.

             He closed the closet doors and walked slowly to his bed, staring at the tie.

             The floor creaked heavily beneath his feet.

             Where had she come from? What was here name? Where did she go?

             He sat upon his bed, and pulled the tie around his neck slowly, tying it in the same fashion she had the week previous.

             If only he could see her again, he would never let her disappear form his life again. He sighed. He placed the tie straight and sat back against the head board of his bed. How he longed to see her perfectly cut face one more time, the blueprint for the perfect woman, the angel sent from god.

             He let out a deep sigh, partly trying to let go of the memory, partly praying deeply for her to return.

             He closed his eyes, imagining her in his mind.

             "You didn't believe me." Came a soft, cold voice.

             He opened his eyes abruptly to see the woman standing in all her glory in the middle of his bedroom.

             He moved to get up, but she held her hands out to still him, "No, stay where you are. Don't let me discomfort you."

             "I have to know your name." He stated. On Monday, her identity only nagged occasionally at his mind, but by Saturday, she was all he could think about. She had infested, invaded, and mercilessly taken over his mind, which had been twisted into an unsatiable desire for her.

             Her eyes stared blankly at him, but her smile was in a small, amused twist. The combination cause an almost demonic appearance behind the black mask.

             "Please," he begged, "what is your name?"

             "My name?" she asked.

             He nodded, moving again to rise, but she stopped him by sitting beside him.

             "My name is whatever you choose it to be."

             "No, I want your real name."

             "My real name?" She inquired, looking somewhat puzzled.

             "Yes, please." He said, waiting in anticipation.

             She was silent a moment. His hands were clasped in front of her.

             "Well," she began, "There is one thing I'm called. But only by one person."

             "I want to know." He asked, greedily seeking information to what he sought to obtain. He wanted nothing more in this world than her.

             "My master would not be happy." she said, frowning.

             "Your master?" The man was confused.

              She nodded. "He would be very upset with me."

             "I won't tell him I know." the man begged.

             "He will." she stated simply, a blank look upon her face.

             "Not if we don't tell him." He said.

             She nodded, "He will know."

             "How?" he asked, desperate now.

             "He will not be pleased."

             "What will he do to you?"

             She stared at him. "He is a kind master. He takes good care of me."

             The man took her thin, pale face into his large hands, holding her gaze steady, "I can take care of you just as well, if not better."

             She moved back slightly, releasing her face from his hands. "You may know my name. But you will not know it for long."

             He frowned, as his eyebrows lowered in frustration and confusion, "What do you mean?"

             She blinked innocently, "Your one week is up."

             He laughed, "But I'm healthy, I'm not going to die for a long time."

             "No, your week is up." Her voice had a tone of finality.

             "I can take better than whoever your with now." the man insisted.

             "No, you can't."

             "What does he do for you that I cannot?" he asked.

             "He keeps me young, he gives me everything I need, he gives me everything. He gives me freedom." She replied.

              The man moved his hand to touch her cheek, but she shied away from his caress, just barely holding his gaze.

              "Just tell me your name." He begged.

              "I see you liked the tie." she stated, breaking the gaze to look at his chest.

              He frowned, "No, I don't. But I must confess, something about you drew me to it. I wore it to work everyday this week. Not tied like this, obviously, but I did."

              "It's common." She nodded slowly, making eye contanct again. This time one of her hands, sheathed in the black leather glove rose slowly, and lightly graced his cheek. "I'm sorry."

              "Sorry? For what?" he asked.

              "For what I'm going to do to you." Her voice seemed hollow.

              "And what's that?" He doubted any ability she had to kill him, he was probably twice her height, size, and weight.

              She smiled, "You, too, will belong to my master."

              "You don't have to listen to him." He said.

              "Yes, I do." She said, "His reign is greater than anyone else's."

              "So you serve him out of fear?" He inquired.

              "No, people serve God out of fear." she said quietly.

              "So you're religious?"

              "I have some knowledge."

              "What religion are you?" He asked.

              "I serve the greatest of all." She replied.

              "Who?" he was desperate now.

               She glanced at the clock. "I'm sorry."

               He followed her gaze, it was 11:59 PM.

               She leaned in close, and his breathing accelerated. Her lips graced his cheek ever so gently before coming to hover over his mouth.

               He braced himself for what he had thought about all week.

              "I'm sorry."

              He felt one of her tiny hands pressed against his chest, as the other withdrew down her body.

              He heard a slight scraping noise, and her hand came came up to his neck. Cold metal pressed against his thick neck, and slowly, she pressed it in and dragged it agonizingly slow across his throat, all the while, her soft, red lips ever so close to his.

              He breathing turned to exaggerated gurgling, and blood bubbled up through his lips, running down his chin, to run with the blood spurting down his neck.

              His eyes became distant, blank, and confused as he gurgled, slowly suffocating in his own blood.

              Her lips finally met his, and she tasted his sweet, warm blood.

              She sat back, and withdrew the blood covered knife from his throat. Holding her palm upwards, she carved a star into it; a pentagram. As her almost black blood oozed out, she pressed it to his neck, mixing their blood.

              "You are now part of me, your soul belongs to me. I am legion. Or as my master, Lucifer, calls me, I am Domina Mortalitas."

              His lips moved, processing and repeating what he had just learned. And with a billion unanswered questions, the life disappeared from his eyes, as his head slumped forward onto the woman's shoulder, letting his blood run down her pale skin. 

              The woman sat him back against the headboard, resting his head gently. She slowly closed his dull eyes, and straightened the blood red tie; still tied in the fashion of a noose.

 

    

Author's Note

Just an idea. Might make it into a novel, have some ideas, I'll probably leave it as a short story.

Reviews

[Jemma]

Its an intresting write so far.
I did get a little lost for the first part and kind of trailed off but it is well written.
Good write.

[ShaneBerry]

i got lost at start, but the biblical tones made it interesting to read lol

[Nicholas Whitney]

This is pretty good!
The beginning almost lost me. Just a little slow, but that's also just one opinion. The end of the first chapter really started showing some style and the second chapter was good from "my name is Domina" until "my name is Domina."
I especially like how it took Lucifer seven days to re-make her.
And while your story certainly left me wanting more I have to admit that it seems like a difficult one to continue. A hard character to write. But again that's all me, you've done a splendid job so far.