Friday Fiction - The Collector

So for this week the challenge over at TerribleMinds was to write a story that involved Hell in some fashion.  I kicked the idea around, almost went back to Don and John and added some supernatural elements to their story.  But then this came to me.  I'm not going to say anything else, I think it's pretty clear.  But I will warn that suicide and depression are main themes so...

The Collector

He drifted around his mark.  Whenever he came to close his presence left a dark stain on the young boy’s aura.

The cracks in the boy's psyche were clear.  The damage ready to rend his soul to fragments, one final push would be enough to drive the point home and send him over the edge.

He knew some Collectors that would take advantage of those cracks.  Worming through them like oil and taking over the host, turning the pain of suicide into a wrathful strike against the tormentors.

The boy rushed to his room, moving with the hurried walk-not-quite-run of a child trying to hide something.  Holding back the pain of the day as he sank to his bed, shoulders hunching tightly with stress.

He watched the boy reach under his bed for the knife that sat hidden for weeks, only coming out when the pain needed release.

As the boy held the knife in a shaking hand, he drifted closer and whispered a trail of smoke in the youth’s ear.

"Do you know what Hell is child?" He asked.

"Hell is pain, Hell is suffering.  Hell is misery." He said with the crackling hiss of brimstone.  "It is knowing, knowledge burned deep in your soul, that your world will never change.  Never improve."

"So go, kill yourself," he trailed a finger over the blade, the iron burning his ethereal form.  "We're waiting for you."

He caressed the boy’s cheek, "And once we have you, do you know what we'll do?"

The soft touch turned to a harsh grip of the boy's throat.  "We will put you right.  Back.  Here."

"You will live the same day of pain, of torment more exquisite than any fire could burn.  That will be your Hell.  And you will never, never escape it."

He let go of the child’s throat and laid his hand over the boy's own.

"Unless you put the knife down.  Unless you face your pain, now."

He thought of that day, when the knife tore a line of red into his skin, tore a piece of his soul away and cast the broken remains into the fire.

Sometimes you have to let yourself break.  And no, you will never, ever be the same again.  Once you shatter you will never be able to put those broken pieces together.  It is your choice then what to do.  Do you fall?  Do you fall and let the sharp edges tear into you?  Or do you take them, do you use them?  Build them together, not into what they once were, but something else, something new.  A beautiful mosaic that shows the world who you truly are.

Fiction Challenge - Sub-Genre Mash-ups

So I did skip a week on the fiction challenges.  I have no excuses, I just couldn't get a way to make the topic work for me.

Totally not an excuse.

Anyway, this week the topic was to take two sub-genres of fiction and crush them together into one story.  I bounced through a few different combinations; Superhero-fantasy, Dying Earth-Dieselpunk, Magical Realism-Techno Thriller, etc.

Then the first line of this story popped into my head, enjoy my insanity.

Deathiversary

            Cassie stuck her tongue out and giggled at how the pool of blood gave her reflection some color.

“Cassie stop that,” Robert waved to her.  “Come here.”

            Making one more face at herself Cassie glided over to the couch, leaving a trail of ectoplasm as she passed through the end table.  She sat down in the air, hovering just above the cushions.

            Robert put his arm across the back of the couch and Cassie leaned back just enough to let them overlap slightly, her incorporeal with his physical.  She sighed contentedly, cold fog gusting out as she spoke.

            “You always know just what to get me.”  She said.

            “Well you’re not hard to please,” he said with a gesture to the corpse still dripping blood on the floor.  “I figured you’d prefer the whole package instead of just a red mess.”

            “True enough,” she smiled.
            “Anything you’d like me to do with the body?” he asked.

            “Leave it for now,” She looked around at the dust and grime.  “I like how it adds to the décor.  We’ll let Fido have it on the next full moon.”

            “Where is that mutt anyways?”

            “He’s wandered off again, something about ‘escaping this accursed place.’  He’ll be back once he gets hungry.”

            “Why do we put up with him?”

            “Oh he’s just going through a phase, you know how werewolves are, always with the drama.”

            A wet scratching sound caught their attention.

            “Victor,” Robert shouted. “You get out of there!  Bad boy!”

            The vampire backed away from blood it had been sniffing at and started to back out of the room eying the puddle pleadingly.

            “Oh, I’ve had my fun,” Cassie said. “Let him have it.”

            Robert waved his hand at the mess and the vampire began lapping at the blood, purring happily as it did.  Drinking its fill it turned and skulked from the room, disappearing into the darkened hallway.

            Turning his attention back to Cassie he asked, “So do you remember what tonight is?”

            She frowned thoughtfully for a moment, “Halloween?”

            “Well yes, that.” Robert shook his head, “But I was thinking of our anniversary.”

            “Oh sweetie, you remembered!”

            “Of course I did, it’s hard to forget the night you killed your wife.”  He laughed, “And you know, I have a bit more of a present planned for you than just a bloody chuck of meat.”

            “Oh really now?”  Cassie asked.

            Robert held up his hand, “Just wait, it should be any minute now.”

            “Robbie, you know ghosts have no patience.” Cassie put her hands on her spectral hips.

            Unmoved he asked, “Really?  What else do you have to do with your time?”

            “I’ll have you know I’ve a very busy schedule, it takes a lot of skill to rattle chains in just the right way.”  Her smirk betrayed her amusement.

            Before he could reply the sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway came through the broken windows.  Cassie flew off the couch and stuck her head outside, missing the window in her excitement and looking through the wall.

            “Teenagers!”  She shrieked, “You brought me mystery hunters?!  Oh you’re the best murderous psychopath a girl could ask for!”

            Robert looked out the window, keeping himself out of sight and watched the four teens climb out of the van.  Two boys; one muscular lad in a football jacket, the other all in black, including his makeup, got out of the front.  The girls; one a mini-skirted beauty queen and the other a sweater-wearing bespectacled bookworm, climbed out the back.

            “I may have spread the word about our little ‘abandoned house’ when I was a few towns over hunting down your present.” Robert said with a wave to the corpse.  “I saw those kids helping arrest a petty thief and couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

            Cassie latched herself onto Robert in a hug, ending up halfway through his body. “Thank you so much!  Just promise me you’ll let me play with them first?”  She said, looking up at him through his collarbone, her hollow eyes pleading with his soulless heart.

            “Tell you what,” Robert grinned, “let’s make it a race.”

            “But there’s only four of them.”

            Robert’s expression turned thoughtful and he didn’t say anything until the barking of a large dog came from outside.

            The two smiled and said together, “Tie-breaker.”