Dancing to Death

Rachel Montgomery

February 29, 2012

Honors Am Lit

1^st hr, Provenzano

Dancing to Death

Beyond the road, the trees and the winding dirt driveway; there is a house. A house that is so beautiful, nothing can be compared to its everlasting youth. As dark and scary as it looks, it still has an indescribable appeal to it. It is a house with a story of its very own. While it may not be pleasant, it is a story to tell and one to live on forever. This story is one that not many smile upon, except those wicked at heart. It has been told for centuries and will be told forever more. But it isn’t finished yet. Oh no, it has only begun. When the house’s story reaches an end though it will be dedicated to all those who went in the beautiful house, but never came out.

It was an immaculate house with immense size and a grand appearance.  It has towering black pillars and rugged black stone walls that greeted your eyes when first glancing at it. Windows, which were perfectly accompanied with beautiful dark gray shutters on either side, seemed to be more common than brick. Vines seem to crawl up the side of the house so precisely, that it makes the house look sinister almost. Black marble steps lead you to the grand, dark double wooden doors with large brass knockers on them in the shape of firey embers. It was an entrance to a place like no other.

Candle lit crystal chandlers hung in all the rooms, giving the place a sort of romantic ambiance as reflections of the dancers below glided about the dangling crystals. Firey embers in the fire places dance to the beat of the music. The clock ticks to each passing second and no one has a care. Clacks of the shoes hit the dark, checkered, marble floor as the dancers seemed to dance in perfect unison. Grand balconies were on either side of the dance floor with winding stair cases to each of them. Only to be accompanied by dark woodwork and book shelves on all sides of the room. One wall contained multiple grand windows between the dark woodwork and gave the place some life to it.

 Kids ran across the floor in their best attire possible as they giggled and laughed the night away. Women wore tight bodices with silk dresses that had giant full skirts, their faces covered in make-up and had their hair done in elegant and unique buns and curls.  Men were dressed in their full garb-like any noble Frenchman would-as they guided their partners across the floor with rhythmic steps, twirls in unison and an atmosphere of love and joy.

One girl in particular stood out among the rest though. She was a beauty beyond compare and they all knew it. She was a site to be seen with thick, firey red hair that looked like dancing fire embers when it was down and bouncing around in its natural curls. Today though, she seemed to have tamed it and has placed it in a tightly woven, intricate bun with only two small tight curls left to frame her face. She had emerald eyes behind thick eyelashes and naturally rosy red lips.

She was draped in a scarlet red dress that was tight around her waist and truly accented how tiny it was. Large skirts encircled her as floated across the room. They were imbedded with rubies and diamonds and made her seem to shimmer as she glided across the floor. It made her look like a goddess from the heavens dressed in precious gems.

  White lace was on the ends of her sleeves and trimming the front of her dress.  While it encircled her wrist on the sleeves, on the front the white lace outlined the only white on her dress. It was a small patch of white that went from her slightly plunging neckline to her belly button. It was pure white silk and white pearls imbedded in the lace. Red ribbon criss-crossed across it and tied into a perfectly small bow at the top to pull the dress all together.

She was stunning.

Her natural beauty was incomparable to any girl in the world.

Just like the house.

LUCY

I am so happy they are all here.

I am glad to know that the noblest of all the French in Paris have decided to grace the world with their presence today. To come to this ball and show off their new dresses and garbs and act like the kings and queens of France. To socialize with the rich and the wealthy, the only kind of people they would even dare to speak to. To go and the dance about the room with such naivety, ignorance and bliss, that brings a smirk to my face.

Their naivety and ignorance won’t get them very far though. They came tonight in hopes of socializing, dancing and making merry with all those who are fabulously wealthy, just like them. A night to remember is their goal and I don’t blame them. They know France is in trouble and it is only a matter of time before someone makes the first move. So they are going to dance the night away in hopes of erasing their troubles and being able to keep this one memory alive before their world turns to dust.

So naïve.

They don’t know how bad their future is going to be.

But it is only the price of being vain and self centered.

These are the ones that don’t know of what the rest of the world has gone through. The ones that throw away their money on rubies and gems, while the other half is starving and searching for food. They are the ones with giant homes and worrying who has the biggest and best decorated house, while others don’t have homes.

They don’t care.

And they will pay for it.

People who are like that deserve to be punished. They deserve to see what it’s like to be the underdog and how hard others have it.

 So I have something planned for them.

But it won’t happen now.

In good time it will.

But for now, I am going to enjoy the party. I am going to relax and watch the dancers waltz right on by without a care in the world. They will talk and socialize and go on about the party like it was any other high society event.

I, on the other hand, I will just be waiting for the right time to strike.

So I will watch all the people that pass me buy.

I will look at the smirks on the guy’s faces, and the shy smiles from the girls. The twinkles of promise of a brand new tomorrow shine brightly in their eyes. Girls laugh playfully and talking ever so softly like the sound of a sweet melody from a wind chime in the breeze. While the guys talk loudly and boisterously so their voices echo throughout the room in hopes of impressing some pretty girl.

Everyone is having the time of their life.

Good.

The clock is ticking and the time is almost right.

The outside is getting dark and it is reflected inside the house.

The light and happy ambiance from earlier in the night has faded, leaving a dark and sinister look in its place.      The chandlers have lost their glimmer as the dancers are no longer present in their crystals. Fire places now have firers with blazing embers in them as the room just seems to get warmer and warmer without warning. Everyone is still making merriment without a care, leaving me as the only one to notice the changes.

And it is bringing a smile to my face.

The room starts to gain a reddish glow and the outside world is no longer present through the windows. The clock seems to be ticking faster and it gets closer to midnight with each passing second. And ever tick makes my smile grow bigger on my face.

Everyone is still dancing when the clock strikes twelve though. They continue with each chime and I just feel myself slowly transform into my natural form.  The white is stripped away from my dress and the rubies and gems fall from my dress, leaving me in a tattered red gown. I feel myself become who I truly am as my hair is released from the bun. Then my skin becomes the color of the scarlet red from my dress. Horns have appeared on the top of my head as I grow a pointy, red tail.

Once I was transformed, the clock ceased to strike.

Everything was silent, though the dancers continued to dance.

Then I made my move.

Peasants from all over France crashed through the windows. They screeched and cried for revenge as they savagely attacked the nobles.

The nobles tried to get away, but the peasants seemed to come in from everywhere. Leaving the nobles trapped in the room like herded sheep. Screeches from both side became apparent and could probably be heard by all of France.

It was a sound like no other. And the grand room made the sound that much loud and deafening with every scream. It was ear shattering loud and was painful to have to hear.

Blood was spattered everywhere in the room and bodies laid all around on the checkered floor. What was left of the windows had a red tint to them and the fire burned ever so largely in the fire place. Everyone looked either like a savage beast or a terrified human being. The world seemed to be nothing but mass chaos in that one little room.

So I am just sitting there and watching.

I love it.

So I smile as big as I could go at the mayhem I have caused.

I start to cackle at the beauty of all the chaos that has happened.

In the fit of my happiness, I stop and pause to say, “Welcome to Hell”.

And then the house burst into flames.

Poe's Obsession with Death

Rachel Montgomery

March 15, 2012

Honors Am Literature

Provenzano, 1^st

Obsession with Death

            An obsession can be over anything in the world. It could be blatantly obvious to everyone or hidden from the world. Edgar Allen Poe, one of the greatest writers of all time, may have seemed like he wasn’t obsessed with death at first, but after another glance, it is apparent he is. No one would see that until taking a close look at his writings and seeing the thoughts behind his words. His obsession is shown very strongly when readers see the multiple points of similarity between the stories. These points show a darker and more twisted side to the stories after looking more closely. When you look and see the isolation, symbolism and dictation he used, you can see that he has a love for death and its twisted ways. When looking at the deeper meaning of Poe’s writing, his obsession with death become apparent to all who read his works. So through these different aspects that are apparent and common in his stories, any one of his readers could see how he is obsessed with death.

            Isolation is part of Poe’s obsession with death in his stories. For Poe ends up creating the characters from the different stories with few or no friends to turn to during the story. “.. to the severe and long-continued illness-…a tenderly beloved sister-his sole companion for long years…” (Edgar Allan Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher). Some even have replaced actual human friends with substitutes like animals. “I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets… There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute…” (Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat). This leaves these characters alone and in need of help of someone right off the bat and wishing for someone to help them. But even for the ones that do have friends and family to turn to though, Poe has them pushed away through bad habits or mistreatment by the main characters. “I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered my personal violence,” (Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat). At some point in the story, the main characters all seem as if they have been separated from the rest of the world. Poe creates this through his obsession with death. He has death involved with a series of unfortunate events that occur for the main characters. Poe has problems around every corner for them that lead to nothing but death, so he can establish a sense of aloneness and loss for all the main characters. Through this, a sort of bubble is being set around them that seems to force the character to face all their troubles on their own. This makes the characters feel as if everything happens to them and to them alone. In the end, a sort of depression or madness is created for the characters that makes death practically inevitable for themselves. This never ending cycle of depression and loss is created through this and creates a dark mood for his stories. A sense of darkness that was only brought upon the characters by having them run into problems related to death. Only to prove that the isolation in Poe’s stories has been created through his obsession with death.

            Symbolism played a huge role throughout Edgar Allan Poe’s stories. He created symbols that provided a whole new outlook on the stories and made in inanimate objects come to life. They created a new emphasis on different parts in the stories he has created. Intangible things became living beings that were part of or caused destruction in the stories. “And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night” (Edgar Allan Poe, The Masque of Red Death). Objects became representation of characters from the stories that created a connection between the two that not even death could be differentiated between them. “… and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse…there was a long tumultuous shouting….dank tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the ‘House of Usher’” (Edgar Allan Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher). Through these symbolic things though, Poe has them involved with his obsession with death by having them connected to death as well. To some they seem like normal characters or parts of the story, but with their presence, they spread a strong emphasis on death itself. In some cases they represent the death or the end of something. While in others, they cause the death themselves. Through this, the connection between the objects and death is undeniable because with these symbolic objects, comes death. The idea behind of each of these symbols there is a new meaning then just a person or an object in one of Poe’s stories. Each of these has a relationship with death that is apparent and adds to the idea of death in the stories. This makes symbolism is then a major contributor to Poe’s obsession with death in his stories.

            Edgar Allan Poe, as the famous writer he is, is a master at description. This is evident in his stories and help show how obsessed with death he is. Poe describes everything as if it were right in front of you. An image pops in to your head the minute you start to read the first paragraph. He uses dictation to help describe and make the stories have the gloomy feel and ambiance he creates for his gothic scenes. His obsession with death becomes very noticeable then when he uses his unique and deep descriptions for his stories. Through this, he gives gruesome details to the story that allows you to see the agony and sadness the story has. “The upper lip, at the same time, writhed itself away from the teeth, which it had previously covered completely: while the lower jaw fell with an audible jerk…” (Edgar Allan Poe, The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar). He likes to show the dark and twisted side of people and likes to create peoples worst fears on a piece of paper. “To be buried while alive is, beyond question, the most terrific of these extremes which has ever fallen to the lot of mere mortality” (Edgar Allan Poe, The Premature Burial). He uses his talents as a writer to create a since of loss and agony for all those who read it. When he describes the death of someone in the story, he makes sure that he doesn’t leave out a single detail. The picture is as gruesome and as detailed as it could possibly be. His depth in his details shows how fascinated he is with death by becoming that realistic and vivid. Even when he isn’t writing about death, he writes about someone’s troubles and writes it with a dark and depressing feel about it. A happy ending is never seen and death is more common then happiness for characters. So by writing so detailed about someone’s misery and experience with death, Poe’s obsession with death shows through very strongly through his descriptions.

            In stories by Edgar Allan Poe, there is isolation, symbolism, and description that shows how he is obsessed with death. Between his creation of misery, symbolic parts of the story that represent death and his deep descriptions about the death of characters; death is key in all his stories. He uses it to create elements in his stories and make his stories the way they are. It was the deeper part of the story that made them as horrific as they were. Making his obsession with death very apparent in his stories.

           

           

Biboliography

Poe, Edgar Allan. “The Black Cat”. The Literature Network. 13 March. 2012. http://www.online-literature.com/poe/24/

Poe, Edgar Allan. “The Premature Burial”. The Literature Network. 13 March. 2012. http://www.online-literature.com/poe/41/

Poe, Edgar Allan. “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar”. The Literature Network. 13 March. 2012. http://www.online-literature.com/poe/30/

Faust Legend

Winning is all That Matters

Winning was all that matters.

As long as he was number one, who cared about the rest? He was a winner and deserved nothing but the best of the best. He was rich and came from a well off and powerful family. He went to the best schools, had the best tutors, was on the best teams and so on because he was the best.

                Well, in his mind, he was the best.

                But on that night John B. Winston did win something.

                John was part of huge firm in New York City that only had the best lawyers. He started working there after graduating from Yale a couple of years ago. He has been there for three years and was one of the fastest progressing lawyers in the firm.

                Because he liked to win.

                And losing was not an option to him at all.

                He spent weeks upon weeks working to make sure he looked good for his bosses. He worked equally hard making sure that all the other lawyers looked bad as well. For one of the partners was getting old and decided to retire a couple months ago.  So basically all the lawyers were pining for the spot as partner, including John.

                He was determined to win it.

                And the trial he just won, was his one way ticket to the spot.

                John had been working on a case regarding a potential rapist and the rape victim’s parents were suing the alleged criminal. Everyone was sure that the rapist was guilty. They really only had the trial as a way to show that everyone has equal rights. They didn’t think that somehow the rapist would actually be proven not guilty.

                Not until the heard the verdict today.

                John was defending him and he proved the accused rapist innocent to the core. There wasn’t a single thing that could be used to be proven against his client. With a couple of hundred dollars here, some erasing here and some burning of some papers here, you have an unbeatable case. Allowing John to win the case and essentially, his spot as partner.

                So that night, he celebrated with three of his friends at the firm.

                As the walk down the street, John shrugged his shoulders to burrow his face deeper into his coat to hide it from the cold. The wind was especially hard that night. It felt like small ice crystals were being pelted at his face. It was starting to get really dark, really fast from the clouds rolling in, but no matter. He was going to party, drink and do anything else to celebrate the night away. That was his night and no one would take it away from him.

                As he walked in the bar, the scent of hard alcohol, pretzels and cigarette smoke greeted him at the door when he walked in with his chin up. He looked narcissistic and like a show off to all the other bar goers, but he didn’t care. He wanted them to look at him with disdain for thinking he was better than everyone.

                Because he knew he was better.

                He went up to the bar and sat down with his friends. They all started barking orders at the wimpy bartender, trying to work his way through college. They yelled a bunch of orders all at once and laughed when he spilt a glass of whiskey on himself.

                John felt powerful and good that night. He felt like he was on top of the world. But while John always thought he was the best at everything, not everyone saw him that way. A lot of people hated how egotistical he was. They hated his cocky grin that showed its presence every time he was praised for something he had done. They hated how he always acted perfect, when he clearly was anything but. They especially hated how he put rapists, drug dealers, criminals and even one murder back on the streets and by doing so, putting people and families in danger.

                Needless to say, John really didn’t get a whole lot of fan mail. But he didn’t care. He wanted to win and if that meant putting various types of criminals back on the street, he’d do it in a heartbeat. It doesn’t affect him if they are back on the streets. But winning a case gets him one step closer to being partner. One step closer to having more power and control over the city and having one large pay check to come knocking at his door.

                All so he could be the winner.

                He downed another shot of tequila and to feel it burn down the back of his throat. His body became over whelmed with a feeling of being extremely hot. He started to get lost in his thoughts of how great it would be to be partner and to really be on top of the world, and then a girl walked.

                She had thick brown hair that was pin straight until it curled at the very ends. She had amber eyes and rosey red lips. Her dress was extremely tight and it revealed a lot. It was a bright red and came down to her knees with a slit up the side that went ever so high. She didn’t hide anything. She knew she looked good and she clearly showed it. Her waist was impossibly tiny and perfect. Her legs were a mile long and would still be without the three inch red stilettos on her feet.

                He was awestruck by her appearance and ready to walk up to her and introduce himself, but after a quick glance around the room, she spotted him and headed straight for the seat next to him at the bar.

                There was a ton of hoots, cat calls and sounds of appreciation for her to grace them with her presence at a bar filled with men. A lot of them even went up to her and started being very flirtatious and forward with her. None of them holding back or saying promises of what the night could become for her.

                She ignored them all though.

                She sat down next to John at the bar. She calls the bartender, “Martini on the rocks. Two olives please.”

                The bartender was starring at her, until he snapped out of it and went running around to fulfill her order. Not stopping for heartbeat to make sure she got exactly what she wanted.

                Before he knew it, she turned and started talking to him like a long lost friend. They talked and laughed the night away. His friends constantly tried to get her attention or enter the conversation, but it always ended up as just the two of them talking. He talked about all his achievements and she would smile in approval. She giggled at all his jokes. She was the perfect girl.

                He was enticed by her, and she seemed the same way to him. He couldn’t stop looking at her beauty. Especially her eyes though. They seemed to hypnotize him and completely capture him in her clutches.

And he didn’t want to fight back.

                The bar started to slow down and everyone started to leave, which included John’s friends. So they decided to leave the bar as well and brave the cold.

                Once outside, John placed his coat on the girl’s shoulders, just the way girls like it. She grinned at him in approval and started to walk away from him. He just trailed after her like a love struck puppy dog. She took him to a part of town that was known for its criminals and gang members, but she walked in like she owned the place.

                Before he knew it, she started talking about how great this area of town was because it was so full of evil and dark things. How this place was one of her favorite spots in the world because of it. She started going on and on about it. About how the ambience was perfect with the thunder clouds rumbling overhead, the flickering street lights, graffiti covered abandon buildings and the deserted alley ways made the place feel so dark and sinister. She acted like it was a palace or a five star hotel, instead of a street in the bad part of town.

                She stopped talking for a moment and walked up to the store front of an abandoned old doll shop. The dolls looked old and needed to be put out of their misery. She looked in the window and seemed to be starring at five or so of them sitting on a shelf. One of the dolls was a girl, but the rest were guys surprisingly. They all looked familiar for some reason to John. They still looked really creepy to him though. Yet, she stared into the window at the broken dolls longingly. As if they were promises that are to be kept.

                He started to walk up to her when she turned around suddenly. She then she changed dramatically in tone. She was mentioning how nothing in life was a for sure thing. How even though John wanted his position as partner, he can never be sure that he would get it. There were so many others, like his friend that could get the job instead of him. How one day he could get harmed for letting those criminals back on the streets. How you never know what could happen the next day.

                As crazy as she sounded right then and there, John seemed to agree with her. He knew that there was always the slight chance that he might not get partner. That there was always a chance that a victim or family member of a victim of one of the criminals he set loose could come after him. That there really was no “for sure” way to tell whether or not everything he hoped to come true, would come true. He knew he deserved the best and everything he wanted. He believed he was the best. He believed he should always win. So now he believed he needed to make sure that he gets what he deserved.

                He started to feel himself shake in anger and disappointment. He needed to know that everything he wanted will come true and that no one can touch him. He was willing to do anything to be able to have that power and control over his life.

                Then out of the blue, she says, “I can help you with that”.

                She said it as if she read his thoughts. As if she knew what he was thinking about. It must be coincidence that it happened right then and there. John knew she probably finished talking when he was lost in his thoughts and he probably just caught her last sentence that just so happened to fit in with what he was thinking about.

                She then walked over to him and started whispering in his ear about how he could make all his dreams and wishes come true. How she could make sure that he would never ever get hurt by anyone. She could make everything all okay at a small price in return. Something that only he had and she wanted.

                “Just one thing,” she whispered oh so softly in his ear, “that’s all I ask in return for safety and everything you have dreamed of.”

                “What is it that you want,” he asks in return.

                “Your soul,” she says.

                She said it like it was no big deal. Like your soul was something you could pick up from the drug store. Like it was candy on the shelves in grocery stores!

                Yet, he had just said that he would do anything to get everything she just offered. He needed to know that he would get that job and would stay safe no matter the cost. Plus, he doubted that she was talking about his actual soul. She probably just wanted him to do stuff for her, yet he had a feeling deep down that she wasn’t lying. And something kept telling him that.

                He looked over at her and she looked serious. She looked like she really wanted his soul in exchange for all that. So despite any itty, bitty feelings that said he shouldn’t, he went with it and pushed down those feelings. He agreed to the deal and she smiled wickedly at him. He knew he just made a deal that would change his life.

                Two days after the meeting with the girl, someone found the rape victim from his previous case dead in her bathtub. The victim had cut her wrists and committed suicide because she couldn’t live when she knew that her rapist was out there somewhere. Though no one knew for sure, that was what everyone was thinking and what all the news papers said.

                That night he went back to the street  that he and the girl spent the time talking on and made a deal on. She wasn’t there though. He wasn’t expecting her to be, but felt like he should go there for some reason. He stared down that dark, cold, desolate and dreary street for a bit before looking over at the doll shop she seemed so fond of.

                He walked up to the store front, only to see that the girl doll had cuts on her wrist and was soaking wet and drenched in what looked like blood.

It was a site to see for him.

John found it very weird to see a doll like that. Even though the doll was looked so disturbing, the doll seemed bright and free in a way he just couldn’t understand. The whole thing seemed to be out of this world.

                He took his eye off the girl doll and took in the rest of the dolls. They all seemed familiar, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. So he left the girl doll drenched in blood with the other four guy dolls.

                He received his position as partner at the firm the next day. Many people seemed surprised he was picked for the position though. Later he found out a lot of them thought that the position was going to go to his friend Cory Wheels. Apparently the partners thought he had more potential than John, but John didn’t think twice about it. They ended up picking him instead. He wanted that position and he got it. He didn’t care what the cost was. As long as he was the winner.

                It wasn’t until a week later though he found out the judge and the one of the witnesses from the prosecution side were found dead with a bullet in the back.  They were lying in the streets only a couple of blocks away from each other. It had everyone in a stir. In the news papers, it was announced a murder. Police were on the search for the culprit, but there was no trace of what happened or who killed them.

                It was this kind of news that had the city a buzz. A lot of people went home before the sun had even fully set. Doors were locked at night and people always seemed to be more on edge when out and about.

                John became a little concern about it since he knew that they were both tied to the case somehow. Even with the promise the girl made all those nights ago, he still can’t help but feel he should be looking over his shoulder too.

                He ended up going back to the street with the doll house. It still created an ambiance that seemed to reek of death and despair when he looks down the street. It made him feel as if something was crawling up and down his spine. Like someone was watching his every move and just waiting for the right moment to attack him from behind.

The moment he thought of that, he spins around at an alarming pace that actually gives him whip-lash. Only to leave him feeling foolish when he saw no one there. He turned back around and something inside of him hoped to see the girl there, but she wasn’t there. She was still gone.

Feeling disappointed, he walked to the doll shop he remembers her looking at so vividly. He looked and saw that two of the guy dolls were injured like the girl doll. They both had small bullet holes in the front of them and blood seemed like it was surrounding the holes.

Unlike the girl doll though, those dolls seemed to be blackened and full of hate instead of light and freedom. The feeling made John flinch from the feeling of horror and death. It was like looking at a black hole of nothingness and loss. As if all happiness left the world.

So John started running from the shop.

While he was running, he turned around and was so overcome with the feeling of sorrow and hate, he had nothing to do, but keep running. To run until he reached home, locked the door and never look back.

Until a week later when he hears that Cory Wheels had died from a blow to the head.  They believe it was a blunt object like a shovel. They said that his true cause of death was a slow and painful bleeding. A story made for the front page news considering he was an aspiring lawyer and was from one of the richest families in all of New York. This shocked everyone considering he was one of the nicest people you ever met. No one would have guessed this would have happened to him.

Everyone was more on edge than before and everyone seemed ready to kill the next person that touched them. The prices of guns went up and more people seemed to be carrying them with them everywhere they go. If they didn’t have a gun, they had knives and other sharp object on hand at all times, ready to protect them from any possible impending doom.

John on the other hand wasn’t sad because of the death of his friend. He didn’t even seem to care that so many people he knew were dying left and right. He was more concerned with a feeling of anger, frustration, hatred and despise that seemed to always be seeping into his thoughts. A feeling that gave him nothing, but pure anguish. A feeling that felt as though his soul was being ripped from the inside out.

A week after Cory’s death, he couldn’t stand it anymore. The feelings were too strong and he couldn’t enjoy anything anymore. Not even his job as partner at the firm gave him joy. So he did the imaginable and went back to see the doll store that gave him this feeling to begin with. He figured the source would be a good place to start and see if he could be cured. Combined with the fact that he was unexplainably drawn to the store, he was on his way to the street before he knew it.

Once on the street, he looks down it to see that only one street light is working. It flickers every so often. With dark clouds over head covering the night sky, that was his only source of light. It made the street look worse than any other time he has seen it. Almost to the point where John could almost no longer look at it.

He convinces himself thought that he everything is still alright so he walks up to the old doll shop. Only to find that the display window no longer had the dolls in it. There was no trace that they were ever there. The blood was gone and anything that could have remotely been tied back to them was long gone.

He starred at window for thirty minutes before the door to the doll shop actually swung open on its own.

John felt something that could only be described as death crawling up his spine and seemed to slither all over his body. Causing him to shiver all over and want to go home and lay in bed.

Something was preventing that though.

Something pulled him closer to the door. As if he had no more control of his body and nothing could stop his legs from taking him in the store. Another human being seemed to be controlling his body and leading him towards the dark inside of the worn down doll store.

Once inside, John doubled over in pain. He was over whelmed with a feeling that he was being killed from the inside out. As if acid was being poured down his throat and was causing the most excruciating pain in the world. A feeling that hurt him so bad, he couldn’t tell if he was blacking out or if it was just dark in the store.

Then two overhead lights turned on suddenly and shined over the dolls from the store. Only there were four this time. Two that seemed full of light and freedom and then two that seemed full of darkness and death. And only after a closer look, he realizes the dolls look like all the people killed in the past five days. All with the same wounds and everything. It was the creepiest thing he ever saw.

Only after his realization did one more light turn on in the middle of the other two. It shown down on the fifth doll.

It was him.

He heard a cackle and the girl stepped out from the shadows and said, “A little scared by this huh? I know. But what can I say, I like creepy things.

“And people like you, the judge and the witness who are all bad souls deserve death. To live with me in hell forever. So I might as well have a fun time getting you there,” she says with a smirk.

Realization came to Johns face as he tried to get the words to come out, but it all just came in stutters and mumbles.

She cackled again. “Oh John, when you sold your soul to me, I bet you didn’t know you were making a deal with the devil.”

She transformed into the demon she was right before his eyes before everything went dark.

And to this day, that doll shop still stands in New York City. Creepy dolls and all.