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          As I was walking, I heard a strange voice calling me. The voice was feminine, soft and alluring, yet it sent shivers down my spine. I turned around already knowing what I was going to see. Her short, black hair framed her heart-shaped face, her dark eyes froze me once again. She knew. She knew that I was afraid, that I was paralyzed. Her pale hands were hanging lifeless beside her body. She seemed determined to crush me, to break my bones and drink the life out of me.

          She began to move towards me and suddenly  my lungs were unable to fill with the cold air that surrounded us, my throat felt dry and sore. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. Then I saw it. She has stolen The Stone of Clovenhoof. Now she owned all the power she has ever desired. Now she was able to kill me. She grinned sniffing in the air the terror that was escaping through my pores. That was the most sick and fiendish grin I had ever seen.

          She grabbed my throat and I shrieked in pain. Her long, slender fingers were burning my skin, making my scared voice husky. Her dark and pointy nails were digging into my flesh like tiny daggers. My heart was pounding so fast that I thought it would break my chest into a thousand tiny pieces, but she wouldn’t let me feel the sweet relief of death…not yet. She wanted to see me suffering and I understood her wrath. I betrayed her. I made her think I was a part of her strange, obscure world and then I slaughtered her pale kingdom.

          As the blood was flowing down my neck, she licked her dried lips in hunger. Her tongue was divided into two thin parts, just like a snake’s, both of them hungry for vengeance. I wasn’t even capable of shutting my eyes… she had the control over my whole body. After she finally loosened her grip, with a shockingly rapid move, she grasped my dress and turned it into bloody shreds. Then she began to push her satanic claws into my bare shoulders, my torso, my swollen legs. Now I was able to scream. My screaming was a pleasure for her ears, it almost seemed, telling by the ecstatic look on her face, like a sexual pleasure. The sound coming out of my wounded neck tingled her sensitive nerves, giving her goosebumps.

          She has opened my veins with no remorse. Her skeleton-like hands splashed my hot cheeks with my blood. As I was trying to get away from her, I stumbled on a crusty branch. I was shaking and drowning in my own blood on the forest’s floor. My senses started to go numb slowly. She was using her powers to keep me alive only to make sure the last thing that captured my attention was her terrifying image. All I could feel was the excruciating pain. All I could smell was the scent of the burning leaves. All I could hear was her demonic laughter getting farther and farther…and all I could see was her silhouette being eaten by the gloomy night.

          The night’s cold, soothing air was caressing my corpse as my soul had already started to look for a young body to posses.

         

         

         

          

Laura Călugăr

Laura Călugăr

Mă numesc Laura Călugăr şi sunt studentă în anul I la Facultatea de Litere şi Arte din Sibiu. De mică sunt pasionată de macabru şi de tot ce înseamnă moarte. (Nu, nu am avut o copilărie nefericită). Am început să scriu poveşti bizare în clasa a X-a, fiind inspirată de cimitirul superb de lângă liceul la care am învăţat, Liceul Teoretic Joseph Haltrich din Sighişoara. Printre scriitorii mei preferaţi se numără, în mod evident, Anne Rice, George Bacovia, Edgar Allan Poe, Oliviu Crâznic, Stephen King, dar şi Dan Brown cu ale sale române enigmatice.

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