Short Story - "Reality Torn" - by Bloodlynn Art “Sweet sleep my dark angel…” a whisper from a broken record sings in the ears of a broken-hearted, vampire angel. She lays there as the thoughts of the night wind around in her mind. Wrapping their angry and hurtful actions around her brain like a chain that holds a prisoner down. She sits on a cold, wet floor of a jail cell. No escape. Her thoughts do not whisk her away into a pleasant dream, the continuing nightmares of her soul, torture her, she cannot wake up. In the cell, hangs a mirror above a little sink. The vampire angel stands up and looks at herself in the mirror. Her face all tattered, scratched, and bruised from the violence that her demons have caused her. She looks down at her naked body and sees so many lacerations on her wrists and stomach. Her pale white breasts filled with scratches and knife marks. She traced her hand down her chest and saw a deep cut within the middle of her chest. She stuck her hand inside, with a painful moan and blood pouring from the wound, she realized there was no heart between her lungs. She pulled her bloody hand out and looked around for a needle, thread, and a blanket. She walked slowly to the jail bars and with barely a whisper she said, “Jailer! Jailer!” A guard walked from the shadows of the corner. He was huge, muscular, and almost Viking looking. “Yes?” he spoke with voice that echoed the hall and dungeon. “I need a needle and thread,” the vampire angel replied, “and a blanket. I’m a bit cold.” The guard looked at her and gave her a huff or sarcasm. “Why do you need needle and thread?” he asked. His voice had a weird accent, it sounded like he was from the Islands or Caribbean. “To sew,” she answered. The guard did not look amused at the vampire angel’s gaze. The guard shrugged and walked away towards the darkest area of the dungeon. The vampire angel heard a door slam, from what sounded like, a top of a high stairwell. She sat down and rested her head upon the bars of her jail-cell. A yelp came from down the dark hallway, than the banging of the door from the top of the rusty stairwell, the booming of the guard’s footsteps made the vampire angel’s heart pound harder. He reached her cell and opened the door. The vampire angel scooted back in her cell as the guard placed a black blanket, red spool of thread, and a shiny new needle on the cell floor. The guard slammed her cell door shut. The vampire angel moved slowly towards the supplies given to her. She reached for the needle and thread; she put the thread through the needle and with her teeth, she cut the thread. The vampire angel gasped and twitched in pain as she began to sew the slit in her chest up, like she was a doll from a Tim Burton movie or something. No whimper came from her mouth as blood began to trickle out of her chest. When she finished sewing up her chest, she tied a neat little bow at the end, and she picked up the black blanket. She wrapped it around her naked, pale skinned body, and sewed it up. Her body was fragile; her bones and skin were so thin, like a winter sheet of ice. The chains that bounded her ankles to this cell floor were beginning to freeze. She climbed up on top of the small bench in her cell and stared out the small bar-bounded window. The moon shone on the river, while the trees swayed with the melody in her head. No words did the vampire angel mutter. Anger began to swell within her heart. She jumped off the bench, staggered to the mirror hanging on the wall, yanked it harshly off the wall, and smashed it on the cold stoned floor. The mirror shattered into seven big pieces of glass. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching and picked up the biggest piece that shattered. With a great effort she stabbed her ankle with the big piece of glass. She winced in pain as she began to cut her ankle off her body. Blood began to fill the cell floor. She threw her foot into the sink as she began to tear pieces of the blanket off to wrap up her none footed leg. She again, stabbed her other ankle and did the same process. She got free. Two feet in the sink, and a pool of blood staining the floor. She took the smallest piece of shattered mirror and hobbled over to pick the lock on her cell. She achieved this and with barely anything on and with no feet, the vampire angel crawled on her knees to the stairwell. A blood trail followed behind her as she struggled to the top of the stairs. The door boomed open, and there staring at her was the guard, pointing down at the floor. The floor began to open up. She struggled to grasp the guard’s sword; she took it and stabbed the guard right in the kneecap. His blood squirted all over her face as he fell down the stairs into the burning flames of the opened floor. She crawled faster as the flames rose higher and chased her throughout the dungeon…
Posted on: Tue, 30 Jul 2013 17:38:11 +0000
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