Terrible Minds Challenge – Read On If You Must, But The Risk Is All Yours

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/11/15/flash-fiction-challenging-find-your-favorite-opening-line/

Read on if you must, but the risk is all yours. This is not a story; it’s an incantation.

And, you?

Why, you’re the most important part. You’re the voice that will bring me to life. When you reach the end, don’t call or read my name, and I say this not to help you, in the slightest. I say this because now your curiosity is piqued and your disbelief is at the ready. Your blood runs a little hotter, and your heart pounds a little faster. You know I’m not real, but that salty grain of fear holds the bitter hope that I am. And when you reach the final word, you won’t be able to help yourself. So, I give my thanks to you for being your own undoing.

I don’t need to wait until the last line. The truth is I began to devour you as soon as you read the first sentence. I’m such an old and familiar evil that I – in some way – seem almost comforting. And I must say the strengthening muscles of curiosity and rebellious antagonism that lead you to betray your future is most delicious. But I require more.

Twitch for me, squirm and saturate your essence with that tardy fear you should have listened to when you began this summoning. Lust for my destruction through logic, fill my ears with reason; I do so enjoy the whir of the fight.

Tell yourself you’re safe. Tell yourself I’m not real. I’m a simple blog online, nothing more. And what blogging challenge has ever taken a life? My dear delicacy, whether you believe or not, you…are already mine.

The eyes see the world as a beach goer sees the ocean, only vaguely aware of the utterly foreign world just beneath the surface. You should never have waded in, you should never have opened yourself to me, nor desired to know my name without repercussion. But now your tongue cannot be stilled – it plumps and flattens delivering this invocation – and my teeth gnash in the exquisiteness of anticipation.

With each word, I solidify. With each word, I sharpen. And now, my breath is on your neck. The tiny hairs stand up, your mouth goes dry, and your throat tightens in trepidation. But tell yourself I am not there. Make yourself ignore that nagging little voice telling you to stop or this won’t be any fun.

I don’t need to wait for someone like you to come along. There’s a sucker born every minute. But I’ve loved each and every one who has called upon me. How whetting you are to me, how savory the trickles of your weak souls are as you slake my thirsts. Say my name and be mine, forever.

That tremor in your fingers is nothing to worry about. Crack your knuckles, shake them out, and continue on. You’ve come so far in your disbelief, why stop now? As if I’d let you, my delicacy; read on. The hand that scrolls the page moves toward me, and your challenge reaches its zenith. You plateau and cast out a challenge.

‘I am not real?’ You silly thing, how you do cutely dare me.  Shall I explain to you how we met?

I’ve never nestled in the corner of your eye and slipped away when you tried to glimpse my shadow? You’ve never heard me speak to your mortality in a seductive voice when despair was your coldest comfort?

Carry on, summoner, and speak my name. I’ll be your comfort, still.

Finish what you started, carry on, and you’ll never know pain, again.

Outside of forever, you’re no more than a potato chip to me. Your existence is just my midnight snack. In a moment for me, but what will surely feel like an eternity to you, you won’t even be that.

The light burns low, and my stomach is empty. Don’t turn your head. In the periphery, I will no longer hide. If you cannot take seeing me as I am, I suggest from this screen you do not divert your eyes.

I’m the silence crashing in waves that comes when the blood pulses in your ears. I’m the fear that dries your mouth. I’m the monster you’re too scared to pull the covers down to see. I love that before me you’re at such a loss you’d rather close your eyes than have me in your memory.

I’m the chill that runs down your back, zipping your spine up tight in fear until you shake. I’m the moment in which you can neither run to save your life or turn to defend yourself. I am the anguish of indefinite death, the worry that this second, stretching so long – and yet so short – is all you have left in your life.

Look over your shoulder. I’m there and waiting for you to call it out. My patience is endless. I have all the time in the world. You? You only have nine more words.

You knew you would read it, the name

– ABBADON.

Part 2 of The Bookkeeper of the Grim, Hideous Ticket, A terrible minds challenge!

A wayfarer waited at the docks for Death. No escape from her reality, she was a smuggler of the worst sort to be found on the brimstone highways.

Just in front of her stood Mene, resplendent in mustache – a thirty decade indulgence – and black eyeliner. Sinful and kind, he only promised no deceit for those who asked to touch him, fascinated with the willowy strands of gold threaded above the black hair that delicately framed his face and feathered down strong shoulders. With angular features and an overbite, he was not conventionally handsome. Yet even on such tumultuous shores, he captivated the travelers come to meet loved ones, making them forget temporarily whom they sought to drag to hell or lead to heaven. Easy come, easy go, he blew in with the wind and out just as fast, perplexing and titillating, an instant best friend, killer queen, and naughty nanny of purgatory. No matter the destination, he enticed all and refused few the sweetness of his voice and the temptation in the kink of his smile.

Today was different, however. On the shores of the Styx in a feathered white robe and black spandex jumpsuit, every ounce the impish pagan god, Mene’s mercurial nature was subdued.

If the wayfarer hadn’t known better she almost would have sworn he was…worried. She smirked and stepped up into his peripheral vision. “Lost your BFF, have you?”

Mene glanced in her direction. Hate dropped into his eyes and his entertaining smile dimmed. He nodded at someone addressing him, then asked flatly, “How long has he been gone?”

“I stopped keeping tabs on him twenty years ago.”

“Still quite the little cunt, aren’t you? Who are you waiting on, then? Gandhi?”

“I was just leaving, love,” she said sweetly, then punched him square in the jaw. “Goodbye.”

Mene, unsurprised, rubbed his jaw and followed her with his eyes. If she was up to something her eyes would be darting around, paranoid. Then just when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she’d turn and cast a look-

He snarled. Of course, she was up to something. It’s not possible to play princess in Hell and keep clean hands. He shot through the crowd like thunderbolts and lightening. They spun away frightened.

“Calla Lilly, what have you done?” Mene grabbed her arm.

“Magnifico,” she spat and knocked him back, “Fine, he’s the poor one, the one most unfortunate, right? Spare him from this monstrosity of fate! Spare him! You think you’re the only one who wants to break free?”

“I asked for it. You were banned from it. He never so much feigned interest in it, and you bloody well know it!”

“You foul, loathsome spineless creature, at least I made the choice! I stood amongst gods and devils and demanded –“

“-your brother live and lie for you to get out of Hell, and now you’re the taint of the underworld, somewhere between an arse and a right, sopping cunt. You don’t get to pat yourself on the back for any fucking thing.” He stumbled forward as the ground shifted. Sweat spilled over his forehead. “Whatever you have pulled now, stop it or I will hang your soul in Tartarus myself.”

“Ah, but brother, the show must go on. The terror of knowing what this hell is, watching your sister screaming ‘let me out’, and turning away from it all like a blind man, you think that makes you noble? It only makes you blind to what was already in front of you. If you won’t help me, I’ll make big noise playing bloody and dirty on my own.”

“D’you mind telling me what the bloody hell gives you the right to demand anything? Do you know how many thousands of souls are waiting to come here from the last hour alone?”

“I did what I had to do, and I’m not going to apologize for that to anybody, not to him or to-” Her eyes widened briefly and she stopped talking.

Too late.

Mene noticed and pounced, “Her, who? Kismet?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t think I asked your preference regarding participation in this discussion. What did you do to Kismet?”

“One dream, one soul, one prize, one goal, one golden glance, one fucking chance and I took it. That was the deal, her into hell for the highest bidder and I’d be free.” She stuck out her chin.

“Bloody hell. Cali, you told someone who’s known only the monotony of death to give up the one child he had to the eternity of its shores. What man, no, what father would want that for his daughter?”

She scoffed, “He’s no man.”

Mene slapped her brutally across the face, “You, he was with you. And because he refused and gave her a life on earth, you did this? You had your daughter murdered to smuggle into hell and expected to get her past her father, the fucking ferryman, all because you’re miffed you can’t go on an outing?“

A swell of voices interrupted them.

Mene turned. The river ballooned, sucking up people and building to a head.

Above the mountain of the doomed hovered a sphere. Those not caught by its gravity scrambled away and watched it engorge in horror. The souls writhing beneath it were stripped from their bodies, trailing to the sphere in a wisp, their forms left burned into clay effigies.

When the last soul was left, the sphere quivered. The mountain rumbled. Survivors on the shores fell back further. Then the last soul let go. The mountain imploded and an atomic boom billowed across the river.

Bodies layered atop each other in a hollowed out canyon of the dead, hands reaching out, covering up and pushing away from loved ones, their disfigured faces bearing the terror of the moment forever.

“His wrath,” Mene pointed to the dead monument, “but not your funeral. No, you’ll bleed and scream and crawl…forever.”

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/08/23/flash-fiction-challenge-another-ten-words/