Blood Brothers

It was nighttime by the time Mike finally arrived home from an extremely long day at work. His family had gone shopping for the night, and he was ready for a nice, relaxing evening by himself. Walking up to his door, he heard a rustle in the bushes near his house. He stopped in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat. He had never been mugged before, and his heart began to race with the thought of being robbed at his doorstep. He heard another rustled, this time it sounded much closer. He slowly turned his head towards the sound, and saw a shadowy figure approaching him. Fear paralyzed him, and he just stared at the figure as it closed in on him. As the figure moved into the porch light, Mike could clearly see his attacker. He did not recognize him, but at the same time he saw there was no look of aggression in his intruder’s face. The man was just smiling. He stopped short of where Mike was frozen and, seeing the fear in his expression, quickly introduced himself. Mike was shocked when the stranger revealed himself as his childhood friend, Larry.
Mike had not seen Larry in thirty years, and was overcome with joy at this unexpected visit. The two men shook hands and laughed, Mike being slightly embarrassed by his earlier fear. Larry apologized for the scare, and stated that he had recovered his address through many friends and acquaintances. He apologized for not calling, but Mike hushed him quickly and invited him in. Larry quickly accepted the offer, and followed Mike into his house. Mike was not rich, but was much better off than most of his neighbors. The two men walked into the kitchen, and sat down to catch up on thirty years of life. The friends had been inseparable during elementary and junior high school, but were separated when Larry’s father committed murder and was thrown in jail. Larry believed whole-heartedly that his father was innocent, even though there was overwhelming evidence of his guilt. Larry was sent to live with his mother, who lived across the country. The friends were thus separated, and had tried to maintain contact through the years, but that soon died off.
Larry conveyed to Mike that upon reaching his mother’s house, he saw she was poorer than dirt, and frequently turned to prostitution to earn enough money to pay the rent of her dingy little shack. Never having enough food, Larry’s already hardened soul soon grew even colder, and was put in jail multiple times for many different crimes. Larry had, for these thirty years, been moving from job to job, from state to state, just trying to survive in this harsh world. Finally reaching this state, Larry remembered his good friend Mike, and desperately tried to get in contact with him. After months of searching, Larry finally obtained his address, which is how he ended up where he was presently.
Mike could only show sympathy for Larry. After high school, Mike had gone to a good college and studied hard, earning his degree and his high-paying career. He had not partied nearly as much as he wanted, but in the end it all paid off. He first met his future wife, Jenny, in college and, upon graduation, they were wed. Mike had always wanted to see the world, but he never had the chance to, since soon after marriage Jenny became pregnant with their first child. But not fulfilling his childhood dreams did not disturb Mike at all. He had a lovely wife, three beautiful children, and a life that any man would envy.
Just as Mike could only show sympathy towards Larry’s story, Larry could only show envy towards Mike’s glamorous life. Mike had everything Larry wanted in his life. Mike saw this change in his friend’s mood, and sought to change the subject. He went to get his bottle of rum, which he only drank during special situations. When he offered some to Larry, he just sat there looking at the ground. Larry then recalled an account that happened when the two were very young. As young children often do, they believed they would never be separated. One day while playing, Larry tripped and cut his finger. As his finger began to bleed, Larry began to cry. Wanting to console his friend, Mike grabbed a stick and cut his finger, just like Larry’s. The two boys laughed when they compared cuts, and Mike put their fingers together. “There, now we are blood brothers,” Mike said, “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours. We are one and the same, together forever!”
Mike remembered this event, downed his drink, and poured himself another one. Mike said he wanted to help Larry out, and would talk to his boss about getting him a job. Larry looked up at Mike, and a malicious grin crossed his lips. “What’s yours is mine,” he said as he got up and moved towards Mike. Mike quickly stood up, but was only half the size of Larry. Larry lunged at Mike who, thinking quickly, tried to use his bottle as a weapon. However, Larry was too quick for him, and the last thing Mike saw was his best friend standing over him, grinning and laughing.
It was hours later that Jenny returned home. As she and the kids entered the house, she called for Mike to help her with the groceries. She heard no reply, but heard the water running upstairs. Leaving the kids in charge of the groceries, she went upstairs to let Mike know they were home. She continued to call his name, and continued to receive no reply. The bathroom door was closed, but she could hear water splashing onto the tiled floor. Fear set in with each unanswered call, and the closer she stepped towards the door, the more anxiety took over. She touched the door handle, expecting it to be cold, but found it warm and wet. In the darkened hallway she could not see what was on her hand, but quickly opened the bathroom door. Words cannot describe the horror she felt when she looked upon the stranger sitting in the bathtub, with his entire body dripping in blood. His grin exposed his blood red teeth, and in his hands was a human arm. And there, leaning up against the side of the tub, lay what was left of her husband.
“We are one and the same, together forever!”

Some Cinderella Story

Cheri was a slave. There was nothing glamorous about her life. She had been a slave since birth, and when her mother’s owners got tired of caring for a whining useless baby, they sold her for the highest bid. She was purchased by a plantation owner who had an unusually high amount of sympathy than the other white people of the south. She was raised by the plantation owner’s wife until she was 16 years old. However, tragedy struck when the plantation owner was killed by a neighboring plantation’s runaway slave. Cheri’s home was sold off, and she was purchased this time by a rich woman with two daughters her same age. Upon arriving at her new home, Cheri saw before her a giant mansion, painted purely in white. When the mistress saw Cheri eyeing up the mansion, she grabbed her arm and quickly jolted her around to the back of the house. There Cheri saw a little run-down shack, with holes in the ceiling and walls. With downcast eyes, Cheri knew this was her new home.
Any hopes that Cheri had about befriending the two daughters were quickly shattered. You see, by this time in her life, Cheri had grown into a pretty young girl. She had long, flowing dark hair and big green eyes. For being a slave for her entire life, she had no physical signs of abuse or mistreatment. The daughters, on the other hand, were not as easy on the eyes. They were rich of money, not beauty, and it quickly came to be that the daughters were very jealous of Cheri’s beauty. Adding to their jealousy was Cheri’s charming personality and intellect. The girls, full of hatred of not being as gifted as a slave girl, quickly took to physically beating Cheri, in hopes of destroying her beauty and charm. Month after month, the sisters abused and tormented Cheri. Being the only slave on the property, she was completely alone, and took the full front of the sister’s ferocity. For two years, the abuse went on and slowly but surely, Cheri’s beauty and charm were worn down and nearly erased.
During the summertime two years after Cheri first arrived at that horrid mansion, a nearby family of considerable nobility was holding a ball, in which the prince of the family was hoping to find a suitable bride. The daughters were anxious to attend and impress the prince, as rich young girls in their prime will often do. Cheri, overhearing their conversations, wanted very badly to join as well. Just hearing about the handsome, rich prince ignited a fire in her that she thought the sisters had extinguished. So, the night of the ball, after the sisters and the mistress had departed, Cheri stole a dress and headed for the castle. Upon reaching the castle, Cheri snuck inside and, getting her first glimpse of the handsome prince, fell instantly in love. Wasting no time, she ran up to him and requested a dance. The prince, not wanting to hurt the young girl’s heart, agreed, and the dancing commenced. Her heart aflutter, the dance was stopped by the voices of the two sisters. She turned around, and saw them pointing and laughing, mocking every bit of her persona. The entire crowd joined in, and the prince, who wanted to keep his appearance and status, backed away from Cheri laughing, stating he was only doing a public service. Horrified and embarrassed, Cheri ran out of the castle and into the woods sobbing.
Coming across a clearing, Cheri sat on the ground and cried until she could not force any more tears. All of a sudden, a breeze blew around her, and the forest was lit up with supernatural light. Cheri looked around fearfully but could not muster the strength to run anymore. Out of the light, a shape took form, and a woman stood before Cheri, wearing a wonderfully beautiful gown. The woman, however, was repulsive, with warts covering her face, and patches of hair missing from her head. The woman began cackling, and introduced herself as Cheri’s guardian spirit. She stated she was here to help Cheri find happiness and freedom, and would restore her beauty if Cheri promised to take revenge on the mistress and the horrid sisters. Her sorrow turning to hate, Cheri happily agreed, and the woman raised her arms into the air. The unnatural light swirled around Cheri, and she felt as if her body was on fire. She screamed out in agony, than collapsed on the ground.
When Cheri awoke, the forest was quiet, and the only light was pouring down from the moon. She rose to her feet, and walked to the nearby stream. When glancing into the water, she was shocked to find her beauty restored. Remembering her promise to the woman in the forest, Cheri quickly headed back to the mansion, planning her vengeance along the way. The hatred in her heart was only matched by her renewed vigor and insight; she knew exactly what needed to be done to repay the woman for the miraculous gift. Upon reaching the mansion, all was quiet, and Cheri found the mistress in her room, accompanied by the carriage driver, both fast asleep in her bed. Acting quickly, Cheri went to the first sister’s room and, taking a razor from the sister’s vanity mirror, covered her mouth and slit the sister’s throat. Her dark blood ran down her neck, and began soaking the snow white sheets. Lifting the corpse out of the bed, Cheri carried her to the mistress’s chamber.
With the sister’s body slumped over her shoulder, Cheri walked over to the mistress’s side of the bed and laid the body down. Next she moved to the carriage driver and slit his throat as easily as the sisters. Being as quiet as she could, she stooped down, and covered her hands in the blood. A pool began to form as the blood ran off the bed, and Cheri stepped both feet into it. She walked out of the room, leaving blood-stained footsteps, and stopped at the door. With her blood soaked hands, she closed the big wooden doors, and wrote her name in the driver’s blood.
Her mind full of hate and her madness at the peak, Cheri ran to the furnace in the basement of the house and grabbed a shovel-full of red-hot coals. Carefully carrying them up to the remaining sister’s chamber, Cheri swiftly executed the last part of her plan for revenge. Placing the hot coals in string baskets, she hung them directly over the last sister, just barely above her face. The stage was set, with all the parts in place. Now was the time for her vengeance. Making her way back into the mistress’s chamber, the mansion was filled with silence. Cheri stood just outside the mistress’s chamber, and let out a deathly wail.
Her scream ripped through the mansion, piercing the souls of the sinners within. The sister awoke with a fright and, just as Cheri expected, sat right up, planting her face into the smoldering hot coals above her. The mistress, a sound sleeper, had only stirred with the first scream, but was now fully awake with the second. She turned to the driver and tried to wake him. When she put her hand on his chest, she felt the warm liquid. Hastily she jumped off the bed, only to trip over a mass at the side of her bed. Just then, Cheri threw open the door, throwing the light from lamps in the hallway into the room. The mistress screamed, looking first at the body of her daughter covered in blood, then at the dark figure standing in her doorway.
Cheri’s eyes glowed with a supernatural presence, and she began cackling hysterically. Her laugh chilled the heart of the mistress, who backed up against the window of her room. Cheri stepped out of the room, closing the doors and locking them from the outside. The mistress ran to the doors, pounding and trying to open them. Cheri walked down the hallway, and found the other sister lying dead on the floor of her room, the smell of burning flesh still lingering in the air. As she walked past the mistress’ chamber for the last time, she could hear the sobbing from behind the door. Cheri let out a horrid laugh, which was the last thing anyone ever heard from her. She left the mansion and escaped into the woods just as the sun was coming up.

Admirer from Above

“He sees her, walking through the busy streets below. With her midnight-colored hair streaming down her back, she is the picture of perfect beauty. Her face is illuminated by the contrast of her pale skin and dark eyes. She moves with graceful, flowing movements, as if her entire journey was predestined for her, and she is just going through the motions. He gazes out his window as she moves through the crowds, unaware of her loyal watcher. He has watched her, every day, for weeks now, moving in the same manner, in the same direction, at the same pace, at the same time. She appears from around the corner of 5th street, walks down the street below his apartment window, and disappears around the corner of 6th street. At his window, he watches her pass by, dreaming, wishing he could walk next to her as she disappears into oblivion. She is never accompanied by another, and there is never any interaction between her and the shadows surrounding her. His eyes never leave her, as he fears he will miss a second of her presence. As she appears from the edge of his world, all else fades and blackens in comparison to her beauty. “What fools these men be,” he thinks to himself, “to pass by such beauty and not by stricken by awe.” For no matter what happens in the street, no man, woman, or child turn to face her. She moves through the crowd as if she was nothing more than a warm summer’s breeze. The only one to acknowledge her existence is the lone watcher from above.
Her admirer sits above, in his sanctuary, unwilling to face the outside world while it still teems with life. He travels only at night, fearing the light of the sun and the crowds of the day, and only finding comfort in the sunless night, and even then never leaving the safety of his street. For him, the world is too dangerous of a place for someone with his illness. Long ago, some time after he first moved into his apartment, which is too long ago for him to remember exactly when, he developed a philosophy that no beauty could ever come from a world so cold. Yet, many weeks ago, this dark-haired goddess appeared from beyond his world, and captured his attention like nothing else ever has before. For those few brief minutes that his human eyes look upon her, he drinks in every bit of detail. When those minutes have passed, he leaves his window and takes to his bed, where he satisfies his ravenous appetite through fictitious encounters with his unrequited love. When he travels out of his home at night, he follows her trail, getting lost in his lust to be by her side. There are some nights, when his imagination cannot fully satisfy him, and his mind is intoxicated by her picture, where he sees her walking down her path. It is at these moments, when he feels he is right next to her, when he feels his heart stop, and it is as if death itself is standing with him, watching the beauty pass by.
Today it is raining, yet the watcher sits at his open window, waiting for his minutes of passion. The clock strikes noon, and the woman appears, walking through the crowd as they run past to escape the storm. She continues on her trail, despite the weather, wearing no raincoat and carrying no umbrella. As she walks by the closest point to the window, the watcher sees her as clearly as ever. He sees her face, dry and soft, and her hair, glistening as if she were standing in the gleaming sun. Not a drop of rain has dared touch her, for fear of unthinkable torture by the hands of God for defiling such a personification of beauty. He stares, as he always does, but for the first time not due to her beauty, but to the inhumanness of her existence. A creature of such beauty could not possible have been given life in a world as dark and corrupt as this one. For the first time he notices details of more than just her beauty. Her notices that the dress she wears is never different, and always black in color. Her hair, her makeup, and her movements are always the same, repeated over and over, never changing. She is constant, just as she is in his mind, just as she was the first time he saw her. He stares, not because he believes in her beauty, but because he doubts in her existence. And for the first time, before she disappears from his view, she turns and smiles at him.
One smile is all that was needed to dislodge any disbelief in his perfect love. She has acknowledged his existence, in that one simple act, and erased the doubt from his mind. For the next twenty-four hours, her smile never leaves his mind, and he never leaves his window. The sun welcomes the next day. The watcher turns his head to the proper view, and waits. The clock strikes noon, yet she does not appear. He slowly rises from his seat, and calmly walks out the door down to the street below. For the first time in years, he steps out into the sunlight, into the crowded street below his window. He slowly moves towards her path as the people move past him. No one pays any attention to him, no one interacts with him. He turns to wait for her appearance, only to find himself standing face to face with his dream lover. She is smiling the same smile he saw yesterday for the first time, and is wearing the same dress that he first saw her in, painted the color of night. Her beauty is untainted, unchanged, since he first noticed her traveling under his window many weeks ago, as if she stepped out of his memory and into his reality. “You are waiting for me,” she says to him. Her voice echoes around him, like a sound in a cave. Her voice paralyzes his body, yet he feels his muscles relax and go numb. “I have always been waiting for you,” he replies to the shadow. “Then come with me,” she whispers, “and never wait again.” With these words, she walks past him. He turns and follows, walking aside of his love, as they disappear around the corner. No longer is she the unrequited dream. No more would he have to sit at his window, cursed only to gaze upon her beauty. He was hers now and forever.”