The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
The Hidden Realm of She
by Naching T. Kassa
She’s following me. I know it.
She’s wearing that hoodie—the grey one with the bloodstain—and the ragged scarf with the spiderweb stitch. Her jeans are torn, but not for the sake of fashion. She took them off the corpse she feasted on.
I saw her do it. Saw her choke the life out of the male as I passed the alley. Saw her tear the clothes from him and cover her own monstrous form. I watched her break his bones open and suck the marrow from them.
I thought I got away. She couldn’t have seen me. But she must’ve, because she’s in the club, sitting at the table over there, pretending to nurse a gin and tonic. I know it’s her. Her black eyes gleam when she looks at me.
There’s nowhere for me to go. I’ve hopped from one club to another, changing my escorts as I went. Females, their bodies clad in sequins, leaned on me as they staggered across the street. Males, flushed with alcohol and desire, leaned in to steal a kiss. None of them hid me from her gaze.
I can’t tell them. Even if they believed me, they wouldn’t help. Humans would shriek if they saw my true face. They’d drop dead if they saw hers.
Her beard gives her away. The quivering black fuzz on her chin identifies her as royalty. She is a queen. Here to subjugate, to find others of her kind and force them to her will. I am nothing but a worker, but I fought hard for my freedom. I will never worship a mortal being again.
She’s watching me now and her limbs are trembling. She wants to sink her mandibles into my skull and brand me as her own. She’s not tapping her foot to the song which blasts over the dancefloor. No, that movement is for me. She thinks I want to come to her, that I want to be enslaved.
That’s how I’ll defeat her.
Humans find me beautiful, alluring. When I step out on the dancefloor, and the light plays over my glittering dress, they rush out as one to join me. They imitate my dance, following my intricate steps. I borrow the rhythm of the music to answer the queen.
I catch the eye of a brown girl near the door. Her dark eyes follow my dance, and she joins in. A woman, with hair like fire, comes next. She is followed by a woman with jade-green eyes. They approach me, surround me. Protect me.
The queen rises to her feet. She pushes through the throng of humanity. There are four of us now, four lovely slaves. Four to hunt for her, to serve her for eternity. When she is close, we dance away. The four of us make for the back door and hurry through it.
When she passes over the threshold, we fall upon her, our attack silent and savage. We tear her limbs from her body and crush them beneath our spiked shoes. White blood flows from her broken exoskeleton as we rend her to pieces. The end comes swiftly.
We stand, panting, above the broken body. Then, one by one, they melt into the night.
The queen cannot hear the words I speak, but I tell her anyway.
“You can never be my god. I came here to be free.”
Fiction © Copyright Naching T. Kassa
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More from Naching T. Kassa:
Crystal Lake Publishing proudly presents Arterial Bloom, an artful juxtaposition of the magnificence and macabre that exist within mankind. Each tale in this collection is resplendent with beauty, teeth, and heart.
Edited by the Bram Stoker Award-winning writer Mercedes M. Yardley, Arterial Bloom is a literary experience featuring sixteen stories from some of the most compelling dark authors writing today.
With a foreword by HWA Lifetime Achievement Award Recipient Linda D. Addison, you are invited to step inside and let the grim flowers wind themselves comfortably around your bones.