Price"My name is R'thark," the demon said.Price by DeejaeHarper
He came in the form of a young girl, red hair, blue eyes. He moved in uncomfortable ways, cocking his head in such a manner that I did not doubt what he said.
"I am here to offer you a deal."
During our conversation, he changed his forms many times. Sometimes he was my mother, dead six years. Once, he was a handsome, young man dressed in riding leathers. Yet another form was so painfully familiar that I had to turn away.
He settled for the longest in the image of my best friend. We spoke in the private hospital room, at the end of a long hallway. I had come, like always, to see the still, empty body of my best friend, Kim.
Seeing her beautiful features twist into a triumphant sneer was enough to make my eyes leak lava and my face feel like it was stone. I hunched away from him, yet he continued with his speech. He spoke it with the comfort of a car salesman.
"I have been collecting souls for hundreds of years," R'thark said. He tossed Kim's dark lo
Willing"At first I did not believe it," Lucille said, her purse sitting on her lap, clutched between her wrinkled hands. "I heard about the deaths on the news, all of them the same. I was tempted to call in, say I knew who the murderer was. Life in prison would be cruel to you. You have your reasons."Willing by DeejaeHarper
"I have come to keep my promise," I said, running my hand down her cheek.
Lucille had grey at her temples and wore the most unflattering sweatshirt. Christmas was near and the kittens on her cheap cotton monstrosity wore ironic hats. There were two bells sewn onto the fabric, so she rang every time she shifted. She was an old cathedral, announcing the hours.
Her skin was pulling away from the bone.
She was inches from death. She was sick. She came to me for answers and hope.
I had not to give.
"How will this work?" she asked.
"I am waiting for someone," I said. I have a picture of Lucille from her younger years. She had been a beauty, with hair like an oil spill and skin so white you might call
TerrorI slide the grey metal against his throat. Berry doesn't move. Good boy. But he does suck in air, unwilling to expel it. He is crying, his eyes a watery mess. Big boys don't cry...Terror by DeejaeHarper
The song circles lazily in my head until I whisper under my breathe, "Big boys don't cry, Berry. Big boys just don't."
He nods slightly and amazingly his eyes narrow, his shoulders relax, and he lets the air out of his lungs. The ropes are loose around his middle, his wrists tied to the arms of the chair with bungee cords.
He isn't in pain, well not physical pain. He doesn't understand.
"Why are you doing this?" Berry asks. He doesn't push against the ropes like the others. He merely watches me, his eyes still strangely bright.
"I don't have the answer you want," I tell him, pulling the gun away. I put it in my back pocket. "Closure isn't something humans really need."
"I don't want closure, Zoey, I want answers."
He grits his teeth and turns away. He gags a little and turns back. "I want to know why you had