Entry #149

The Price
by Illyria Taylor


The door to the ancient structure, a mansion from ages gone by, was ajar. “When is a door not a door? When it’s a jar!” she thought to herself, (she was famous for making jokes when nervous). Another blind date, how she hated them. Her friend promising, “this is the One”. Hesitantly, she stepped through the door (jar). “Hello” she whispered to the cobwebs and long dead residents, trying to muster up courage for what was to come. She checked herself in her mental mirror she was both intelligent and beautiful. “I’m not a helpless child, I’m a goddess” and with that, her next “Hello” came out like a war cry, and she received a quiet “Good Evening” in reply.

She was on her knees in an instant, “God forgive me” escaping her lips. “What have you done?” purred the man, a symphony in black and white. “Not what I’ve done, what I will do” she smiled. “And if He doesn’t…forgive you, that is?” as he breathed into her ear, the wineglass in his hand, her reply was simply “No matter.” For she already knew that she would do anything, everything, he asked, even if he was Lucifer himself. “Wine?” he asked as he put the goblet to her lips. “I never drink wine,” she said as she drank the heavy coppery garnet liquid. ”So this is the Price,” she thought, his fangs sinking into her neck. “The Price for everything is just a soul. Not much of anything, really.”