Number Three: Iselta(i)n(e)

My sisters' words run deep
In my patient grace
And as the corruption leaves me,
Only the good is left behind.

Do not let my appearance fool you,
For I am danger. I am a predator.
And if you're on my bad side,
I can hunt you down with a wave of my hand.

My well-manicured nails and my
Perfectly placed flower crown
Can not define who or what I am
To myself or to the world.

I might be good, I may
Have the patience that saints dream of,
And my poise and collected attitude
Might lead you astray,

But don't let it seduce you,
Your charming human ways -
So gullible, so naive.
Let me be the wisdom that saves you.

I can be your light,
Your golden rays of hope
On the worst day of your mortal lives.
Or perhaps my sisters are more your type?

Narcissist

Read me like a book
Your eyes pierced my soul
As a spider faintly crawls
Under a wooden door frame

But the more words spoken
The more you grew,
Your soft skin crawling
Into human upstanding

Shifting, reading, waiting
Your never ending thoughts
But no guilt, no conscience
To brush your hunt aside

Your viscous, umber venom
Dripping on the carpet
I had laid out to marry on
With no mind to stop.

Remind me that I let you in
Remind me this was my doing
Innocence you feigned upon
Your shifting, smug smile

Tell me that I'm wrong
The way you dance,
You flirt, you charm
Is not for your amusement

Roll the dice, poke the bear
Forget that I am something more
So I may come to conscious
Once you are faced away

Love and Cold Winds, Part 4.1: Does Dungeoning Count as a First Date?

   Nomands was a city built around a Dungeon, its stock and trade in the items brought up by adventurers. Everyone hates paperwork... It stands to be put to word that no one in our party enjoyed sitting for hours filling out parchment after parchment to finally cement their current roster in the laws of the land.
    Like many built atop a non-euclidean space, warped and magically saturated that spawns monsters, the architecture shifted to match its surroundings. Before the plains were settled, the Dungeon Guild experimented with containment by creating three high circular walls, one encircling the other with their gates never facing one another. This indeed slowed the beasts which wandered out, but eventually the walls would be breached and the gates torn down.
    Then came the mages and architects, followed by guards. Building on the ground meant you were in constant danger, so it seemed natural to build homes atop and sides of the thick and sturdy walls. And over many years, Nomands built, ever reinforcing the mighty walls as the tall tiered buildings and arching bridges rose and the population steadily grew.
    And like many dungeon cities it shared its universal stereotype of prideful citizens, colorful characters and loot hoarders galore. Having been holed up in the free (but spartan) quarters within the second ring of the city, as the last signature was dry, our party went to get a bit drunk as they waited for the bits of metal that would allow them to be out.
    "I had no idea there would be so much paperwork." Garn said over the din of the tavern, known as High as A Kite.
    "Only in a High guild dungeon." Norra replied. "They turn from a dangerous nuisance to destroying a whole city's economy."
    "From magical reagents, to rare hides to make into some new pants," Vort raised his mug and grinned. "And for adventurers to gather gear and gold!"
    A rousing cheer broke though the chaotic sounds as they and their fellows raised their mugs and saluted to collective greed and thrill seeking. When morning came everyone at the bar was collectively grateful to the cleric of Badolinain, the God of Party and booze, as their mass healing spell also dispelled hangovers before leaving party ground zero.
     With a bit more faffing about, the merry band found themselves at the lowest level of Nomands in a cramped hallway lined with cage-like lifts suspended over the abyss that led down to the dungeon. Said lifts were old, rusting in a few places, and swayed in the constant updraft of the hole below them. This lift system was one of the remaining originals the Dungeon Guild used back in the early days before teleportation magics were really fleshed out. Now they served as a much cheaper fee with a discount on returning stones (because the only person who can service the archaic and frankly obscure machinery is a very old, nearly blind gnome).
    Needless to say, it was a slightly tense and deeply uncomfortable ride on the way down. Garn being the largest of the group was the first to sigh in relief when it touched down on solid ground. With the appropriate creak of barely-oiled hinges they stepped out onto a stone plateau carved into the side of the pit. Shallow carvings which could be called stairs slowly made their way across the vertical walls of the abyss and vanished into impenetrable darkness.
    "That looks like a long climb down." Garn said, wondering where the light source that illuminated the land was coming from.
    "Good thing we are skipping it!" Vort said, taking place amongst the other party members as they lined up along the plateau's edge. "The stairs have weak monsters along it. It's better we skip to the good bits!"
    "Wouldn't that... kill us?"the dragonborn inquired as he stood next to Vort.
    "Relax my big friend, I have just the music arraignment for this!" Lym's hands flew across the stings on his lute as his melodic voice sung a flighty song that echoed all around.
    A faint yellow light surrounded the party, clinging to them like a second skin before the seasoned adventures threw themselves over the edge a second later. A solid five seconds went by before Garn jumped in after them. He was falling, but the spell made his descent less 'speeding toward a quick death' and more 'gently floating downward.'
    Garn fumbled though his pockets and pulled out a pocket lantern. This handy glass sphere had a bio-luminescent ball of fungus floating in a clear mixture. Pulling the pin up and giving it a good shake activated the mossy ball and bathed a decent area in white light. With a bit of stretching, Garn could see a few shadowy shapes perched on the stairs and within hidden alcoves, which grew steadily larger after each layer of stairs.
    In what felt like forever, Garn finally touched down in the light of Vort's lantern.The viscera and dark greasy stains told the dragonborn he was late to the party. A hallway stood looming before them, a plain archway filled with the same pervasive darkness. With a nod and some minor bickering the party fell in line, Garn in front, with Norra and Vort side by side and Lym in the back.
    As they pushed their way though the dark hallway, it seemed perfect for an assault by a small mob of monsters, or even traps but everything was... quiet... far too quiet, in Garn's point of view.
    "Isn't it a little too quiet?" the dragonborn asked the obvious question.
    "Yeah, there used to be traps and a mob of rickety shield-wielding monsters before the dungeon master changed it." Lym explained.
    " Dungeon master?" Norra asked
    "Oh right, you were all hilariously drunk. Apparently the Dungeon finally spawned another Dungeon master after guild called Laughing Casket cleared the whole place." the bard explained.
    "What's a Dungeon master?" again the obvious question came from the warrior.
    "Trouble." Norra said.
    "A super smart monster who is in control of the dungeon." Vort explained.
    "So that door wasn't there before then?" Garn stopped to point out the massive double door that now barred their way.
    The party took a brief moment to marvel at the craftments ship of the intricate face on the door before getting ready to kick it open, but then collectively jumped back (and groaned aloud) when said face opened its eyes and opened its mouth.
    "ANWSERS MY RIDDLE THREE, THEN YOU ARE ALLOWED TO OPEN ME!"
   

Shapeshifter: Part V

Shackles holding me upright against a smooth stone surface, I awoke to... a different realm entirely, turning my stomach to shreds and stealing my breath from my heaving chest. Spheres the size of houses tumbled and turned in a black infinite abyss, dotting the vista with stars of lost hope above and around me. The spheres barely missed me, but those dots in the sky didn't look quite right either, almost as if each one had its own expressions and emotions as if they were some how alive. This turned my vision blotchy, and I attempted to close my eyes but it burned with the strength of a searing pan from an oven. I didn't dare look down in the horror that I may have been, in fact, floating, as my legs dangled past the slab I was tied to. I tried to close my eyes but they refused, and my body screamed as I opened my mouth and no sound escaped, as if I had never had one. I saw nothing of myself besides my left arm, which looked darker and skinny, a long hand sprouting forth with even longer fingers; I wasn't sure I could get used to the sight of it and panicked even further than what I believed my limits were. The unease in my stomach came to a vomit as I felt something alive within me, trying to emerge (crawl?) up my throat. The lack of breath running through my throat did not disturb me in the least, as if I never even had lungs. A windy whirring sound caught my attention for a brief few seconds, which came louder and louder, as if something were moving towards my dangling, infinitesimal body in this chaotic world of the strange. The thing in me was slimy and was coming out any way it could, a few tendrils, possibly even tentacles, at a time. Expanding and stretching, I felt my throat about to burst.

I woke up face-planting the floor again, this time too late, and I squeaked with a half scream into the solid floor when I turned my head. With a muffled thud all of me landed without too much harm done. I coughed and gasped loudly, a horribly loud cacophony of wheezes coming from my exasperated body. I writhed along the floor and held onto the rug until my breath finally slowed a bit, sweat covering the once clean, pink fluff of my small rug. I felt the terrible stomach drop of foreboding and with a start, I paused, and ran to the bathroom to vomit what was left of my dinner.

I'm never eating calamari again, I repeated in my head like a broken record, tears flowing down my face from the toxic taste of bad, half-digested seafood and bile.  After hours of retching, I was finally empty and laid on my side on the cushy blue bath mat, my muscles aching and my stomach feeling like I had swallowed needles. 

"Water..." I croaked to the air, pushing on my leg to slowly shamble over to the kitchen to get a glass, nearly falling with each reach of my now weakly legs. The walls were an excellent tool for catching myself, at the least. The cool liquid soothed the irritation while that sustenance helped my stomach stop turning with every second gone by. With a fumble or two, I hastily searched for my phone, the only device between herself and I. My 'men's' flannel pajama pants tried to contain the phone forever, but alas, I beat them at their own game by taking the phone out of its textured, industrial case. No new notifications lit up the bleak, depressing screen with 9:52 A. M. read on it. I opened the texting app and quickly typed out "Good morning. It's Annabelle" before staring into the white, infinite light that was the message box.

If I put a winking face after, it might seem too forward or creepy. But if I put no smiley I might sound like an ass. But if I do use a smiley she might think I'm too friendly. Or she might hate smileys. Goddamned human norms...

I started breathing shorter and I placed my phone down, closed my eyes, and inhaled with all of my might. My lungs were squashed like the gods were clamping down on each one with a large, muscular hand.

Calm down, Annabelle... You idiot... I really need to do something about this anxiety, and this weird lung-squeezing sensation.. It's going to become a huge problem. And with that thought, I forced my shaking hands to pick up my phone, type a regular smiley face and send the message, then dragged myself over to the marshmallow couch with frailty. I let the couch devour all of me that it would allow, with a box of crackers in one hand and The Dreamlands Journals: X in the other.

Serena will be here soon, at least. Hopefully she's good. I'd hate to lose another mundane servant...

The Dreamlands series didn't sit as well with me today as it normally would, as I kept flashing back where I was a few hours ago. Each time I saw the long, thin, brown arm coming out of me, my stomach turned once more. My body crawled with specks of pins and needles all over with my strangely quick, but quite normal healing abilities. The clock chirped as it struck noon, and my crackers were running low. I prepared to see Serena by primping my messy bun and wiping off my streaked makeup from some days prior. After all, who doesn't love a post-scheming B. O.?

Serena was normal, to say the least; 'Mundane' and 'inconspicuous' were her middle names. The stomach churns pried my attention from The Journals and, giving up, I decided to watch Serena instead. I had barely noticed her coming in as she gave a mousy "hello!" and begun the work I was paying her for immediately. She had shoulder length wavy brown hair pulled into a top knot with a bandanna over most of it, with dark brown eyes and an earnest vibe that seeped into everything she touched. She was perfectly normal, for hired help. The best part about her was her lack of awareness of my false walls.

My leg itched when, with a buzz, my phone finally vibrated. I picked it up, and it was her.

"Good Afternoon :)

You and me, martinis, 7 o'clock tonight. You in?"

Her forwardness never ceased to impress me, and I dropped my phone onto the wooden table with a clatter while holding my breath. I read it over once, then twice, then three times, after picking it up with a careful grip.

"She wasn't supposed -" Serena turned and looked at me, listening, as she was the only person here. "I just -" I stopped at that, feeling my mind start shorting out, and made a heel turn before swiftly sliding on my striped socks into my bedroom.

"She wasn't... She wasn't supposed to ask me out... THIS soon..." I half-breathed to the air. The other half was a loud, ever increasing wheeze. My senses began veering, as I then heard the ticking of the analog clock as if it were right next to my ear, TICK... TOCK... TICK... TOCK... The ticking began to drift away, but before I could feel relief, I smelled the cleaning solution Serena used in the kitchen filling my nostrils with ammonia. My nose and sinuses were on fire, and I threw myself on the bed at the woozy unraveling of my balance.

After what felt like a whole day of having my eyes closed, I then could hear my phone vibrating inside my brain, my skull, my bones, like magical vibrations were torturing and sensationalizing my unassuming body before I even knew what was happening.

Magical seizure? The words came to mind, but I hadn't felt anything like it before in the 106 years I had been on this strange earth.

Asthma... Magic... HALT. I gathering up all the Willpower I could within myself, feeling it flow through me like a warm, violent liquid. That I could concentrate was certainly a miracle, allowing me to finally end the curse Annabelle had been stricken with from infancy. Warm liquid pooled in my lungs and it stung and burned as hot as lava. If you could imagine pouring bleach into your chest cavity, that wouldn't even begin to describe the agony I had just begun putting myself through. The pain in my chest completely covered all of the pain I would have had to bear within my skull.

I maintained a firm grip on the flannel sheets and quilted blankets of my bed, just barely being able to direct my screams into the bed, hopefully muffling them enough that Serena wouldn't hear.

I awoke several hours later facing my ceiling, all of my pain and mental anguish finally gone. The relief overflowed within my soft, squishy shell of a body. My lungs felt oddly clear and free from strain, and my head was sorting itself out at a quick and steady tempo. "Thank the Gods." I whispered to the peace and quiet of my room. The different recesses of my mind, no matter how deep, had been knocked around quite a bit. I could feel the disarray cluttering corners and niches of the dark halls that mapped my thoughts. My palms stung with nail marks where I had clawed through the silk, violet sheets, drawing drops of blood.


I rolled over with more ease than ever before, my new body finally becoming accustomed to my unfamiliar spirit. Enjoying the lifting of weights off of my chest, I reached for my phone on the cold, solid end table.

It was all real, right?
To my delight, the message was actually there. The anxiety of the day that had melted away was soon replaced with overwhelming determination. I caught myself smiling at my phone as I answered, "Sure! I'd love that." 

Shapeshifter -Part I-

She kissed me, telling me goodbye for the last time. My soul felt less worn this time; perhaps I could finally be free from this pain I kept injecting myself with. But I loved her, and this game that we played. I loved it because she had no idea... Or I loved it because of how much I loved her. Perhaps I just loved the chase? Or the world was just cruel enough to relieve me of being a masochist while also making me love to self-afflict. What I do know is this: I both loved and hated the stab of the knife of rejection under my skin, over and over again; It was that she left me again, but also gave me a chance for a new beginning. I knew this wouldn't be the last time. It couldn't be, because we were meant to be together.

I was put here to love her, this goddess among mortals, and I would stop fucking up long enough to grow old with her. Or at least, to watch her grow old, her hooded eyes growing matured crow's feet and her glistening hair streaking silver... Something about my interest in her both terrified and excited me. The idea of her aging, well... It made my heart beat out of my chest and my skin tingle up from my feet to my head. And she would love me for what I am... I hoped that one day, this mysterious force within me that made me different from others would be what put me ahead in the race to her heart.

I looked up at the sky and realized... In seven days she would be 40 years old. Forty, and still looking like she could kick my ass at the drop of a stone. Most people would never catch my eye for a moment past the age of 24, but her... Somehow the more she aged, the more alluring her scent; the more wise she became, the more I yearned to listen to her clear, dominating thoughts. In my ever-expanding life I have never once laid eyes upon a human of her caliber. I grinned wide with a tantalizing shiver up my spine as I thought of how spectacular she was.

And yet there we were, saying goodbye for the sixth time. I was standing all alone in my house, the empty air weighing heavily on my mind after she left, and with a start, my determination kicked in. My heart beating faster, I looked to my left at the entryway wall.

I stared at myself in the mirror, wiping unfamiliar tears from my chiseled cheekbones. My long, thick, strawberry blonde hair framed my pointed chin and smokey eyes flawlessly. A look of determination crossed my eyebrows and I resolved to never let this happen again, for the sixth time. I marched over to the bathroom wall, knocked on it once, then twice, then three times and slid the falsity to the side with conviction. The loud crack of the false wall splitting was registered but didn't startle me, as I was too busy hearing my raging thoughts echoing in my ears and heart. With a slap, I firmly hit my palm upon the wood, sliding along the blisters and leaving a trail of perfectly crafted wood underneath. And there it was in its handcrafted glory, my black, wooden, mysterious box. Picking it up carefully, I breathed in its heavenly aroma of old polish mixed with an unidentifiable odor. This was what hope smelled of, and I carried it to the kitchen table.

Taking a deep breath, I gently but firmly pressed in the symbols on each face in the correct order, making a click sound with each impress. The cover flew across the room and hit the wall with a bang and crashed to the floor. I flipped the box over and passports, licenses, birth certificates, credit cards, and social security cards clattered against the polished cherry. Six of each sat on the table, and I could practically hear the personalities murmuring in my head, a little too clearly. I shuffled through the documents and the voices became louder, and clearer. 

"How could you do this to her?" asked Vincent, who had been dead for 15 years. 

"You monster. What is wrong with you?!" yelled Brielle, who had been dead for 5. 

"I WILL KILL YOU." said a familiar but unidentified demonic growl, as my mind felt like it was stabbed through with an ice pick. 

They each hounded me, one by one, beginning to overlap each other until I couldn't understand what any of them were saying and they were so loud that I collapsed with my hands covering my ears. I had heard them all before, but that demonic growl hit me even harder than last time.

"YOU FIEND!!"

"MONSTER!!!"

"ABOMINATION!!!"

I crumpled like tissue paper as they tortured me, scraping at my eyes, my chest, my brain... I yelled at them to stop, let me be in peace, that it was all my fault and I was sorry... I could feel them tearing at my memories, biting and scratching at my emotions and the rational parts of my brain... I sobbed loudly as I felt dreams and nightmares once remembered, slipping away as if they were smoke escaping a leaking chamber. 

After what seemed like an eternity, I came into consciousness again around 3:00 A.M. I found myself on the plush carpet of my bedroom closet, in the pitch black, feeling as though I had drunk nothing but rum for a week straight. My mouth feeling like sand but tasting like bile, I apparently had vomited. I made the mistake of feeling my chest, which was covered in a green and brown substance liquid, and tried to stand. Holding on to the hanging rod, I clumsily pulled myself up and felt the sharp pain of dehydration mixed with a healthy dose of malnutrition within my body. However, it did not matter... It was all for her. It would all be worth it in the end.

I grabbed for myself some water from the fridge and sipped the cool, icy poison slowly. To my surprise once again, it did in fact make me feel a little better. I then stuffed a slice of whole wheat bread into my mouth and ate it with ferocity before staring at the table again. I had a couple of options available, but which one would give me the best chance?

Slowly picking up a white drivers' license from the table, I thoughtfully scratched my chin with my other hand.

"Annabelle Chevalier. Sounds like a good enough name to me. And it'll have to be. If it's not, only the Gods know that you're dead anyway." I snatched up the driver's license, the birth certificate, and the social security card. I even took the passport, just in case. 

N'yarlathotep (God Slave)

Power dripping from your
Cosmic, hypnotic eyes
Smells of rotting chaos,
Entropy, fear, passion...

Desire is a siren
Eating away my fears
Waving away all those
Reasonable concerns

Versus my own instincts
Seduced by the nightmares
Desire chews, gnaws, swallows
Awful sights beholden

Pharoah King awaits me
Draws the rope, I comply
Aeons of spirit gape
Witnessing the contracts

Most left unmet by ink
Papers speaking untold
Unable to sign myself
Away completely still

Hills speak, deserts cry here
Exploring gathers doubt
Sights beyond the real, though
Familiar somehow

Blinking, crowned jewels appear
Upon your lying head
Sandstone and marble, quartz
Smoothly line your castle walls

Sentences flood my brain
Thoughts chained to words, to mind
Sirens blaring, in-conceived
Half of what they used to be

Tongue more elegant, sharp
Stabs the flesh that rebels.
Rewards the brain that speaks
For the strange being now

Intellect decreasing.
In-comprehended voice,
Vocals to your music,
Nightmares and the screaming

Untold horrors hidden
Incomprehensible
Voice escapes my quick mouth
Not understanding the words

Shutting down now, help me?
Can not make a small sound
Space and time abandoned
Me and all of my soul

To this dream I now live
Trapped, caged, in this body
Always yearning, can't leave
But can not stay much more

Kill me, for I'm enslaved
If you can hear me, please
Losing all of myself
Into the black abyss

Its black nothing staring
Into me as I once did
Into its inky depths
Eyes rolling back in time