Friday, November 23, 2012

Clarella's Devils



The 10 gold sovereigns disappeared quickly into the Gypsy’s pouch, but these were desperate times. Horace and Matilde craved a child to chase away their despair, which hung from their shoe leather as they dragged themselves through life.

The Gypsy offered them the potion, which simmered in a stained brass cup. Closing her eyes, Matilde whispered a dark promise and drank the bitter liquid, while Horace clung to her and wept.
Nine months to the day, as the crows darkened the sky and filled the night’s silence with their broken songs, Clarella took her first breath and screamed.

As her parents doted on her, Clarella’s eyes were always darting, staring, and then looking away in alarm. Horace always dismissed it and insisted that she would eventually settle down, but he would never truly know how wrong he was.

Clarella knew they were nearby, always watching with those piercing white eyes, so she gave them names. “Hello Griff,” she waved as the demon rounded the corner, dragging its claws along the wall. Griff growled, its grin glinting in the sunlight, and sank into the carpet with a light hiss.
 

-- JD Hickey, November 2012

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