The Summoning...
Story: The Summoning...
It was a bright, sunny day in the city. The soft caress of Spring was in the air, frolicking past the noses of the denizens of New York with the scents of bloom and growth. It was the type of day that glittered with sunlight and powered the wicked desires for the sin of ice cream or perhaps the need to take in a bike ride. It was a beautiful day and one that was complete and totally overlooked by Sparkle D. Shadowpaw.
Sparkle meandered through the town with her head down like usual. Her paws buried firmly in the long tailed, swallow jacket she wore and her lupine muzzle was well hidden under the wide brim of her top hat. She looked like a rogue stage performer, or perhaps a reject from some ancient magic show that had long since stopped in it's production. But then again, New York City had certainly seen weirder and worse; hardly an eyelash was batted as she quietly hobbled down the street towards her apartment.
The day's beauty held no sway to her, not the fantastic scent of fresh earth, nor the lovely shimmer of the sun's rays. Her mind was completely set upon her task and long hours of concentration had left it's mark on her pretty face. She kept her head down, refusing eye contact with anyone, lest they inquire about the large, heavy bags that stole away at the beauty of her lovely cheeks, the tired gaze in her spectacular emerald eyes or the midnight colored bulb at the end of her face, announced by quiet sniffles and clear amounts of copious liquid that seemed to flow endlessly from it. She'd caught a cold in her long nights of study, but today would be the day it all paid off. She was sure of it.
The night previous, and the one before and a legion before that, had been spent in the throes of manuscripts, musty tomes and decrepit volumes. All of it leading to this point, all of it preparing her for her masterpiece of skill. She moved along a little bit faster, favoring her right leg with an obvious jolt in her stride with every step she took. Her left leg gave a perverse masquerade of decent health in the morning, but towards mid-afternoon, the pain was often too much to bare without her cane- which she'd foolishly left behind on her bed when she left in the morning. Luckily, she'd reached her apartment building and by now the sharp stinging bursts of pain in her leg had slowed to a dull throbbing of agony. Not that she was worried she'd be assaulted by the sensations much longer; she was getting decidedly close to her apartment.
She stepped on the elevator without a word to the fur who stepped in next to her. Her visage hidden by her outlandish clothing choices and her demeaning posture was more then enough to keep the elevator ride to the fourth floor uncomfortable and quiet. Just the way she'd hoped, she'd no time to tarry or meander through the winding pointless trails of small talk. No, no, she had a task to complete for personal satisfaction, and she intended to do just that without distraction.
The elevator opened, and she got off, listening with a perked ear for a sigh of relief from the other occupant. It came just as the doors were sliding closed, and she found her lips contorting into an almost cruel smile despite her desire to keep herself focused.
The door to her empty home creaked open with a sorrowful announcement of her arrival, as if begging for a cool drink of oil and screaming at the same time. She ignored it, like always, slamming the door shut and drawing her slender, delicate fingers across the latches to slide the locks into place. Secure in her home, and consoled by her thoughts of privacy, she continued forward into the ebbing darkness of her apartment. She made no attempt to illuminate the place; nimbly stepping over clothing and dancing around dirty dishes and empty bottles of alcohol, she managed to pierce the sanctuary of her room without incident nor light.
The blinds were sealed, and the door closed, the room seemed completely devoid of light, save the few candles that flickered and danced carelessly on her desk. There, in the gloom and caressing beauty of darkness in her room, she reached into her pocket and fished out a small brown bag, given to her by Calypso at the shop down the street. The old cheetah was a stingy one, but she had the final ingredient for her desires; a small vial of demon's dust, scraped from the floor of Hell itself. She stared at the expensive little tube for a ponderous few moments, letting the concept of what she held tumble feverishly in her mind, before she shook her head; ruby locks swaying back and forth. She would not get distracted. She'd tried this before, and failed, but this time...
She knelt down slowly letting the weight of her left leg turn to an agonizing pain that bounced through her frame and transformed her breathing to heavy, labored heaving. But it's what she wanted-she needed the pain to turn it into focus and point it at the task she had under taken. She uncorked the small vial in her paws, and nervously let the crimson dust drift down onto the carpet, where a large pentagram rested, waiting patiently for it's mistress to return. Sparkle swallowed quietly, closing her eyes while the spidery language of magic began to slip past her lips in a hushed whisper.
Most little girl's had heard the story of Repunzel, the poor princess locked away in a large tower by a witch. Princess...most little girls wanted to wear a pretty dress, own several ponies and rule a kingdom. Sparkle wanted to become a witch. Odd was the understatement often used to describe her childhood. Odd, and cruel. She'd lost the proper use of her left leg by catching a bullet with it when she was eight, and the entire working use of her uterus due to the same incident. On the operating table she'd nearly bled dry, and for seven minutes she'd found herself quite on the opposite spectrum of existence. She had questions...and she knew who could offer her answers. Her study and training had brought her this far and now, in her twenties, she felt ready to demand what she wanted.
The flow of magic from her lips came to a slow, staggering halt, and her heart sped up in her chest. If there was a sensation of dread, anxiety and horror all mixed into one, she was feeling it now, as the only lights in her room flickered to nothing, and left the room defenseless to the darkness. Her ruby colored hair whipped into tangled, angry lashes from an unearthly howl of wind, and her top hat blew to the ground, skittering wildly across the floor before seeking refuge under her bed.
She'd made a mistake. The moment she'd stopped casting her spell, she knew. She knew the moment she opened her eyes and the unnatural darkness of her room peered back; unwavering, and unshaken by her powers. She'd been foolish to think she could summon one of hell's denizen's for her own personal desires, and now, looming in front of her, was the grim finality of her error.
It stood at least six feet tall, if not more, glaring with an piercing set of crimson orbs that glowed with a fire born from hell itself. It's fur was a pale, sickly green, as if it's color had dried up and lost it's sheen from the long years spent out of sunlight and under the duress of intense heat. It's frame, horrific and skeletal, was covered in darkened rags, tattered and torn into shreds that formed a frightful looking robe. But what was the most terrifying, was the object held in it's grim and wicked fingers. A scythe. A scythe made from bones and fashioned together by the madness that descended upon those denizens of hell that considered the living a legend of the dead. An alabaster blade that drew tears to her eyes just by glimpsing at it's existence. A scythe no creature had any right to possess except for one; the one that was slowly, but surely, reaching for her. Death itself.
With grim resolution, Sparkle attempted to open her mouth, to command the demon in front of her to explain the answers she desired for her existence, but no words came out. Instead, the creature that resembled a rabbit simply held it's hand out towards her face...
SMACK! Right across the muzzle. Sparkle went tumbling to the floor, in a dizzying corkscrew of a fall, while the creature gave a horrific snarl.
"BITCH! I TOLD JOO NOT TO CALL ME NO MO'! I GOTS SHIT I GOT TO DO! DAMN WOMAN, LEMME ALONE. CALL ME UP HERE ONE MO' TIME! I DARE YOU! I DOUBLE DARE YOU BITCH! SHIT, YO' GONNA NEED SUNGLASSES IF I GOT T' COME UP HERE AGAIN. " Jack snarled and disappeared into a puff of smoke.
"...You know...I think he been drinkin'..." Sparkle muttered, face down on the carpet of her floor.
The end.