Kate's Short Story: The Moon Maiden

In that terrifying moment, she realised that her worst nightmare had come true - a nightmare she wished upon no one. Her heart pounded so fast that it could be heard over a pair of thundering drums, and her pulse vibrated as if a violin bow were drawn over her nerves. Her cheeks turned the colour of scarlet and felt as hot as a billion burning suns, as fire entwined her veins and slithered like a snake up her spine. All she felt was anger.

A heart beat pounds in her ears. Yet it isn't her own. Strong arms are wrapped around her as she sobs. Muscles flex as they wrap tighter, trying to squeeze out her pain, but instead cause her to yelp. The grip loosens as she backs away slowly. Her head shakes from side to side. It can't be happening.

She whipped her eyes towards him, but suddenly lurched and fell to the ground. The world slowed, she felt something warm and sticky pool around her. She had managed to turn her head in his direction, only then seeing the enemy army that had caught up with them. One knight savaged her son with his sword and then discarded his body. She tried to reach him, but a spear protruding from her back weighed her down. Then she saw us again, watched as the way the enemy avoided us . She felt cold, knowing her time had come , she looked right in my eyes as her life thread was cut. The end frayed as her body slumped to the ground, but it didn’t matter. She was one insignificant life that we had

Giving me only a fleeting look at the woman whom had transformed into a beautiful enchantress under an aura of shimmering sparks. The soothing image melted away almost immediately as the excruciating pain seeped through my veins. leaving me writhing in pain. Elongating every muscle, adrenaline pulsates through my veins with loud booms which seemed to magnify with each beat, but it didn’t stop. “I do not see kindness in your heart, you will soon learn how it feels like to be judged by your appearance” the enchantress hissed. Thick hairs began to sprout expeditiously over the surface of my entire body. Possessing razor-sharp claws and fangs, I gasp and stagger to catch breaths that were out of reach. All of a sudden an intense piercing pain shot up my neck making its way into my eyes, distending them, clouding them, then colouring them a sinful shade. “Please, I’m sorry, make it stop!” I begged but I saw no mercy in those cold black eyes. As I stumble backwards I could almost sense the twisted pleasure radiating off her skin with not a flinch of guilt. It felt like needles and burning irons were scalding my body. Then a rush of crimson tincture flooded through me, slowly, drowning my nerves leaving no trace of human trait, Until finally, I was called a

The creatures, giant paw pinned her against the silver wall, she screamed out in agony as it seared her flesh. She latched her fingers around the creature’s arm and tried forcing it to let her go to no avail because the moment it released her, it sank its sharp teeth deep into her neck. Adelaide cried out in pain, she gazed upward to see her parents frantically trying to break the witches protective dome around the arena.

Kathryn regarded Ariana's posture. She wouldn't take no for an answer. She held out her hand. "Let's not fight," she whispered, gently.

Her arms were pulled painfully behind her back, draped over a chair, the decorative knobs on either side of the chair back holding her shoulders directly behind her, making them ache as they threatened to pop out of their sockets. The position made her breasts thrust forward, exposing them to any abuse or treatment deemed lit by the tormentor. It was meant to abrade her resistance, cause lasting pain and take away any possible protection she could provide for her chest.

She needed to see herself, to clean herself. But when the light illuminated her face, all she saw was blood. Coating her hair, her face, her dress- where sweat had once been, blood now dripped down her temples, down the bridge of her nose, over her lips. Her breath was caught in her throat as she clawed at her hair, her eyes darting around the bathroom for a towel, a rag, anything.

Fire ran up the arms of the beautiful teenage girl. She went deep inside herself and pulled from the strength of her ancestors. The strength of the witches she came from. Her mother all the way to her great-great-grandmother.

Tizbeth laid there on her back with her arm over her eyes. Her mind told her to leave. Her body told her she was dying. She closed her eyes; she may have passed out. She dreamed of being in her heat forge and someone, a man, told her she was doing a good job. She ran her hand over the braided love knot pedant. Although unrefreshed when she opened her eyes, Tizbeth rolled on her stomach, crawl toward the stairs and

Her eyes closed, her heart beating faster than normal, a sharp tang was piercing through her flesh; her muffled screams, an unavailing attempt to suppress her agony, were nothing more than a pathetic depiction of her strength, her failure to endure true pain—since it was beyond her capable sufferance. She failed to withhold. Terrifying ululations erupted from her as it ripped through her—a cloud of shadow blurring her vision as it begin to take form in front of her. When it was done its transcendence, Cadence collapsed effortlessly on the ground, breathing erratically.

Melisende's injured hand lay limp in the bonds as her other worked feverishly trying to free herself from the makeshift bonds keeping her ankles and wrists held together. Her fingers curled beneath the string in an effort to get her palm curled enough to free her hand however just as she managed to get one finger lodged through, she heard the hard clumps of his boots as they approached her bound form before she felt his roughened hands moving around her svelte body before lifting her up over his shoulder and flopping her down on her stomach, her wrists and ankles still painfully held together behind her. Melisende inhaled sharply in pain as her stomach was pressed painfully against his shoulder.

Warm crimson ran down her arm leaving a metallic smell that filled the room to the brim. The silver slit of metal she used slipped out of her hand as her vision became blurred and her breathing became faint. She slowly came in and out of consciousness while her arms held a passage for her demons to escape from. She woke once again to feel a pounding in her head that consumed her thoughts, she tried yelp for help but only a small groan came out.

This allows her to live a life not framed with “J. Crew lined fitted blouse’s” and “lemon yellow Chanel suits” (53 Richter) it obtains possibilities farther than she ever expected. The narrator displays negation towards “the Bitch “when she is finding her own self-discovery, As the narrator speaks jealously is implied towards Kates acting out, but in conclusion it leads her to feel the exaltation about her own changes. After seeing the gray matter, Kate now works on being a prodigy, seeing in a looking glass souring with her “own perception. The narrator secretly thanks the Bitch for giving her a second chance at a life. Seeing the world from another view, is the greatest gift any scar or revenge could give

It was after that, that the terror came back. That she remembered everything that hurt. That more than once, faces that haunted her came back. Lingering touches that made her skin burn and bile rise to her throat. Where she felt like she had to scrub at her skin. To remove scars that she covered with magic.