Topic: My Hunts and Collections

Lyllianne DeWil

Date: 2015-04-01 15:13 EST
STORY 1

Tonight I hunt, but it came with a restriction. This one is not one I have been given to collect. This was not one who had yet committed a crime deserving of instant death. However, this is one that I find completely irksome. This one dares to hunt those who are mine, and that simply cannot be allowed.

?You may hunt. You may torment. You may torture.?

A wicked smile crossed my features as I hear these words.

?However, you may not physically harm, damage or kill.?

Oh that was never a problem for me. It opened up so many other possibilities. The smile turned into a soft chuckling laugh as I nodded my agreement to the terms.

?This one still has a purpose in the grand scheme, but you have the right to protect what is yours.?

With those final words, I bowed, turned and made a quick exit. There was much to prepare for tonight?s entertainment.

Lyllianne DeWil

Date: 2015-04-11 21:09 EST
With a drink in hand, he sat on the end of the bed. Still shaken to his core, he took a quick toss back, and then threw the glass against the wall. He would be damned if he was going to let a little dream keep him from his quarry. Still that dream had seemed so very real. He could still feel the hand that had touched his cheek. He could still hear the whispered voice that had caressed his ear.

Somehow deep inside he knew that if he fell asleep, he would just fall back in where he had left. Even as he closed his eyes now, images kept coming back to him from the nightmare. He stood and crossed the room to the one mirror. He wanted to reassure himself that it had only been a dream. It had all only felt that it was real.

As he turned his face to one side and then the other, he saw what he didn?t want to see. The hand print was there and very real. While it was too small to have been caused by his own in the fit of the dream, he couldn?t bring himself to believe that it could have been made by anyone else. Just in case, he looked at the only window to the room. Then he went to the door. Both were still firmly locked.

Most of the images of the dream were starting to fade, as dreams often do. However, there were some scenes from it that were becoming more punctuated, and part of his memories. As he closed his eyes again, the beginning came back fully, as if he were there again. He had been standing at the window looking out when he saw her. She had just stood there, not moving, not saying a thing, watching him watching her. He had known then that she was malevolence embodied. There was nothing kind or gentle about her. Shadows seemed to flow toward her and then from her, as if she were breathing them with her very being.

It was when she started moving toward him that he started to tremble deep inside. While there was nothing he could put his finger on, her movements just simply weren?t natural. Or perhaps it was the shrieking he heard deep inside. Not a deafening sound, just there, like a scream one desperately needs to let loose but cannot.

He didn?t remember moving back from the window, yet the next scene he remembered was of being across the room, his back against the wall. He remembered seeing her framed by it as she was standing just outside his room. Then, just as dreams seem to allow these things to happen, she was in his room. He didn?t remember her walking through the door. He didn?t remember her climbing in through the window. Actually, he would have sworn that she had actually walked through, like a phantom of some sort. It was then that he first realized that though he was looking at her face, he couldn?t discern any of her features. It was as if light and shadows were playing all wrong and distorting what he could not see.

One thing he clearly remembered was that she never spoke. Or maybe a better description would be that she never verbalized a word that he heard only in his head. He knew that they were her words, he could even hear her voice in its whispered wickedness. However, he also knew that she never spoke them other than in his head.

?Everyone has a moment when they must make a choice. This night has been given to you to make yours.?

It was then that she reached up and her hand touched his cheek. He had sat straight up in bed, shaking with sweat beaded on his brow, sliding down his spine. Her last whispered words filled his head even as it had his ears. ?Make this decision count, else the hunter becomes the hunted.?

Lyllianne DeWil

Date: 2015-04-23 18:45 EST
?You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!? ~Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol


This night had only begun, and here I sat in the shadows, just out of his vision. While I was outside of his perception, I knew that he was still aware of me. Many call us ghosts when they feel that chill run down their spine. After all, it is so much easier to believe that a ghost would haunt you than that you have caught my attention. This night, however, the specters I planned to raise for him would be like none that walked between the plains.

It was so very easy to feel the fear bleeding off of him. He was pacing his room, like a caged animal. Such emotions always tasted delicious to me. There was even a part of me that hoped he would make the wrong choice and continue this battle of wills. Still, I knew that if he did so, that would put the one I was protecting into harm?s way. No need being hasty with this one. It was going to taste so much sweeter if it was completely his choice.

So here I sit, in a corner of his room. There he paces. As his adrenaline finally subsides, leaving him shaky inside, he collapses in bed. Like so many others before him, he told himself over and over until he had convinced himself that it was just a dream, ?? an undigested bit of beef?.? It was always funny how people thought of explanations for what couldn?t be discerned, and called inscrutable what was right in front of their eyes. This one was apparently no different.

As his breathing finally slowed, I watched for a short span. My eyes were able to see even in the darkest reaches of hell, so the light pouring through the crack in his window curtain was more than enough for me to see when his eyes began twitching in the first throws of his dreams.

My kiss was known for two things and this night I would use it for one of them. I carefully climbed my way up his body until I was sitting on his chest. I felt the slightly panicked twitches of his muscles beneath me, but knew that he wouldn?t awaken the remainder of this night. He wouldn?t be able to do so, now matter how hard he tried.

Crouched there on top of him, I had him fully pinned. Leaning close, I gave him the sweetest of kisses. However, with this kiss, I did not draw in a breath, but rather exhaled my own into him. This was how I was sure that he would not awaken as none of mortal birth had ever been able to before. There were even few of immortal kin were even able to resist the potency of our kisses. There were a few side effects of this gentle caress, and one he was about to start experiencing. I could feel him sinking quickly into the nightmare I had created for him.

The emotions he was experiencing, I began feeding upon. This night was going to be very long for him. It was only hours until sunrise. For him, however, it would probably feel like years. While I feed, I wonder if he is going to be one of the ones who search shadows for the monsters he had forgotten were hidden under his bed when he was a child.

Lyllianne DeWil

Date: 2016-05-30 13:10 EST
Story 2 - What Goes Around... Comes Around

There is an ancient truth that what you send out into the universe tends to return to you. Good for good. Bad for bad. What is also true is that the ones you harm along the way don't always get to see themselves vindicated by the universe. However, this night would be different.

For Jared, retribution was going to come swift and harsh. There would be only time enough for him to beg for forgiveness from the ones he had harmed. For little Lysa, her pleas for help would finally be heard. She would be given enough time to choose the path of judgment and to hear Jared beg her for the mercy which he never gave.

Lyllianne rarely ever was on this side of town, as the orphanage simply wasn't a place she often visited. After all, it was very rare that she would be given the name of a child to bring to Fallen. In all the time she had been collecting souls, she could probably count the number of children she had gathered on her two hands and still have a few claws left over. So it was quite astonishing to her when she received a card with the girl's name on it.

What astonished her even more was finding the little girl so quickly when she arrived at the orphanage. The child was actually sitting in a corner of the room with her doll in hand. Those chubby pink cherubic cheeks sure didn't look to Lyllianne like something that would belong to an evil child. On this one, she was pretty sure Fallen had sent the wrong name. She certainly was going to take the time to watch for what this one would do next.

For the whole day, she sat just on the edge of the shadows watching the child go through her day. Like all children, she had a vivid imagination and difficulty telling the difference between what she imagined and what was real.