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A story submission

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  • A story submission

    This is a story i wrote for a contest on another website- I finished second, so I didn't get the prize. At any rate, I sort of liked it, and revised it to fit with the EC. Basically, it is about a devil type figure who could be a wielder of the black blade gone bad (or maybe even an aspect of the EC gone bad). It is a horror story, and quite grim. I hope you guys like it. If not, I won't sweat it.

    Baby, Treat Me Right

    By D Lackey

    The poor thing, she doesn’t even know what’s about to hit her. I’m standing on the other side of the food court, watching her laughing and joking with her friends. There are two bodyguards with her, both packing heat. Concealed weapons of course, but then, that doesn’t really matter much to me. Guns don’t scare me one bit.

    I can feel the sword at my side, hidden under my trench coat. It is so cold, like howling squall raging outside, and it is so hungry. One might even hear it moaning ever so slightly, if not for the throng of shoppers shuffling like zombies from storefront to storefront- God bless you and merry Christmas everyone! But if I were to open the coat a little, then the blade would sing and blood and darkness would fill the corridors.

    Behind me is an electronics store, music blaring through the opening. “Baby, Treat Me Right� is the name of this maddening little pop ditty, and when I turn around, I see her on the multiple television screens in the front window, writhing to the monotonous groove of synthesized drum beats in white lingerie and high heels. Not bad at all for a girl that only five years ago was living in a double-wide and giving oral sex to her stepfather while mommy went to work the night shift at the Sugarcreek mini-mart.

    She called out for help, and I answered. Or you might say that the sword answered. It listens and leads; I merely follow the black swath it cuts through the spheres- a small price to pay for near-deity.

    I make my move. Time is fleeting. For her, that is. I have nothing but time. However, I am hungry (it is hungry), oh so very hungry. Brushing right past her security, I swat one of her groupies out of my way and put a hand on her shoulder.

    “You’ve done quite well for yourself these last five years, Steffi Simpson,� I say. “Or should I say, Stephanie Stenoski?�

    She goes white.

    "Oh so you do remember me?"

    Her friends don’t notice me. I’m very good at not being noticed when I don’t want to be (just one of the perks of this blade, it allows me to darken). They keep chattering and slurping their Smoothies and talking about the new handbags their lovely patron has just purchased for them. I’d like to devour all of their souls, but this one burning white hot before me is the only one I care about at this point.

    “It can’t be time,� she manages to stammer at last. “It can’t be.�

    �Oh but it is, my lovely. We made a contract- you wanted out of the trailer park and your stepfather’s arms, I wanted your soul. You got what you wanted; now I get what I want."

    And what my sword wants. It uses most of the energy, but transfers just enough to keep me going. The trade-off is more than fair, really- with that big of energy, I am supremely powerful. And I’ve acquired quite a bit of wealth and influence over the years, on many planes, so I’m able to lend a helping hand here and there. Always for a price- I don’t kill indiscriminately. I trade in blood and souls, not murder.

    I catch a glimpse of my grinning wolf’s smile reflected in her sparkling blue eyes. Her platinum blonde hair is hanging in little curls down around her pale white face. The hair used to be mousy brown, the breasts 34A’s, and the lips not nearly as red and full. She used to be pretty, in a white trash sort of way. I made her a stunning beauty of the sort that most men would gladly give their left testicle for one glimpse of her secret flesh.

    She runs. They always do. She leaves her bags full of Gap clothing and Wild Pair shoes right there on the food court floor. You can take the girl out of the trailer…

    I let her get to the entrance because it amuses me when they try to run. Her limo is waiting out front and I let her entertain the notion that she just might reach it and get away from me.

    Outside, the howling wind nearly slams her back against the door. She waves her hands frantically, trying to signal her limo driver, but he can’t see her through the blinding snow.

    “Are you ready to go darling?� I ask as I materialize before her out of the blizzard.

    She goes to her knees, white with terror, unable to scream.

    “Don’t worry baby,� I say, grinning my wolf’s grin and raising my sword.

    “I’m going to treat you right.�