This story is based on an interactive story app I played on my phone although I can no longer remember the name. But I have changed a few parts and am obviously continuing the story past their idea.
I lay a hopeless heap on the ground. What is the point anymore? What is the point of being alive if I cannot live? I am eternally damned.
I bolt upright. I heard something, of that I'm sure. My heart beats wildly in my chest. Surely it couldn't be… But there it is again, there is definitely someone or something out there. I feel myself get giddy at the thought and I remind myself to keep my emotions in check. It is probably nothing. But in the case that my imagination is not playing games I stand up to welcome my visitor.
Much to my surprise, a human girl walks through the archway. She doesn't notice me at first; her gaze is rather lazy as she scopes the room. She appears to be exhausted.
She notices me and immediately draws out a knife. It glints in the light leaking in through the collapsed ceiling. I realize my first impression was mistaken. She is not human, only partially so.
I'd only met a few in my lifetime.
Demigods.
Their weapons are still the same, Celestial bronze.
"Don't move." She gazes at me warily.
I couldn't help but laugh. If only she knew the irony of the moment.
"Well come here already," I say my voice full of malice.
She narrows her eyes examining me but makes no moves. "Are you a monster?" She asks bluntly.
"Well figured it out soon enough." I roll my eyes. "Not the brightest one are you? Now come here." I commanded once more.
She snorted at the idea. I look her over. She has wispy, soft, black hair that falls past her shoulders. There are freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. A rather unusual combination, I noted.
"What are you waiting for, an invitation? You are cordially invited to move your damn legs!" I snap exasperated.
She takes a step closer examining the situation. The floor is covered in rotted boards fallen from the ceiling, dust and dirt everywhere. The room is very large with high ceilings that meet together at the top. Many people used to gather here, I sighed. Nature has reclaimed its land. Except for of course the middle of the room where I stand. There is a circle, burned into the ground about 10 yards in diameter. I am standing in the center of this circle.
"What type of monster are you? You appear human." She asked again. "The only human monsters I can think of appear as girls."
"Ah, you must be thinking of the Empousai. Alas no, I am not a beautiful seductive woman here to drink your blood." Although, I do make a point of flashing my fangs.
"Then what are you?" She asks blankly.
"Pah, I have many names." I shake my head. "It matters not."
She thinks for a moment. "Tell me what type of monster you are and I'll come over to you." She's obviously decided since I have not attacked on sight, that I'm not too much of a threat.
She was beginning to gain false confidence. This irked me somewhat; she has no idea of what I'm capable of.
Damn circle.
"You promise?" I raise an eyebrow.
She looks confused. Probably wondering why I'm even bothering to ask. "As long as you're not going to hurt me then fine, I promise." She nods.
The room boomed and dust shook from what was left of the ceiling.
She jumps and I can't help but smirk. "Be careful what you say, promises with demons are binding."
"You're a demon?" She asks incredulously.
I nod.
"Do you eat people's souls?" She raises an eyebrow, her tone most serious.
This time I could not contain my outburst.
"Souls..." I say in between laughs. Truly, this girl is pure comedy.
When was the last time I laughed like this?
I grin brightly at her as she shrank back, clutching her knife tightly.
"Eh, now person. You're perfect, won't you lend an ear?" I smirk. "Before I eat your soul of course."
"No way." She shook her head. "I'm tired, not stupid. I just ran away from monsters, I'm not about to hand myself over to one." She turned to leave.
"What? Afraid that I, like all fiends, am trying to steal your soul through my dastardly wit?" I provoke her.
She turns back to me gritting her teeth. Her hand on by her side was gripping the knife so tightly I could see her knuckles turning white. "What do you want from me!?"
My expression is blank. "Why, a story of course. I'm bored… and your voice…does have a rather musical quality to it." I threw in a bit of flattery in hopes of controlling some of the damage I'd done. I suppose my people skills aren't the best. Although in my defense, I haven't had a conversation in centuries.
"I'll pass." She shook her head. "Where are we? Last I knew I was running from monsters through the woods and next thing I know I stumble upon." She gestures to the sorry sight of what used to be a building.
"…This." She finishes flatly.
"We are nowhere." I sigh, sitting back down. It was no use, as she is bound to leave any moment now.
"How are we no-" Her words were cut off by her cough. She raises her arm and covers her mouth with it, attempting to stifle her cough.
"This place doesn't exist. At least it's not connected to the human world… Or so I thought." I glance over at her. She is nothing special and yet… she is the first person to find this place since my imprisonment.
"Well, then what is this building?" She asks looking around at the crumbling walls and deteriorating ceiling.
"A church." I sigh.
"Ironic." She comments.
I glare at her. "I'm well aware of my situation."
"Now will you please tell me a story?" I ask again.
She raises an eyebrow at me. "As long as you stay put…" She says a bit reluctantly.
"What's keeping me from you is more powerful than I care to challenge, person." I frown.
"Yeah right." She says in disbelief but she sits a couple of yards away although I see her eyeing the circle. She hasn't quite put together the pieces yet.
"Still wary of me?" I ask
"Of course." She nods thinking for a moment. "Alright, I'll tell you a story."
"Once there was a water bearer in India that had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full."
"So why even bother." I snorted.
She shushed me. "Let me finish."
"For a full two years, this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his home. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do."
"Just fix the pot or replace it," I interjected.
She glares at me narrowing my eyes. After she was satisfied she continued with her story.
"After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. 'I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.'
'Why?' asked the bearer. 'What are you ashamed of?'
'I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts,' the pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, 'As we return to the house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.'
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it somewhat. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, 'Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my table. Without you being just the way you are, I would not have this beauty to grace this house.'"
By the end of the story she seemed less uneasy, more relaxed.
Not quite sure why. The story wasn't very good, but it's not like I had much choice.
"Moral of the story..." She adds.
"Everyone is special." I rolled my eyes. "Are we on friendly terms now?"
She shrugs. "Well, enough that I think you wouldn't kill me."
"Thank you," I say quietly.
"Do you want to hear another?" She asks.
The offer throws me. Is she really asking?
But no- I can't appear too eager, can't appear too greedy
I shake my head trying to figure her out.
"Well, I'm going to go now…" She said looking at the ground and standing up.
"Go?!" I ask quickly standing up too.
"Well yeah… I have to leave…" She turns to go.
"Stay! Please stay! Please! I won't take your so-"
Then like a fool, I reach my hand out, desperate and wanting. I move past the circle with my fingers and withdraw as they're set on fire. I drop to the ground and scream out in pain. I clutch my hand and blow cool air on it as the fire burns down. I snarl in the pain.
Her eyes widen as the realization hits her. "You're stuck there…"
