three-parter story for #klonniegothic 2017. i have this minimum affinity for gothic so this might be parasthetic. each chapter matches a different prompt


"We've got a bond in common you and I, we're both alone in this world."

Daphne Du Maurier


"Witch?" a voice breaks her out of slumber and brings her back to a reality that she dreams to escape. This night is the apogee of a nightmare that has lasted longer than she can handle. She raises her head in search of her caller, but she can't put a face on voice that she has categorically refused to be familiar with, and unknown faces are all this group is to her.

A bit of loneliness nips at her heart at that instant, tonight she returns to her constant companion. Nothing she does not expect, loneness has been a steady point through the torment of those past months but now surrounded by stranger, and it has become oppressive. She can no longer handle a second more in unknown company that can't help escape solitude.

Bonnie looks at the group of vampires activating themselves around a grave. She sucks in the cold air around her and she fights to keep her eyes open. Silhouettes move in the dark and sounds break through the uncomfortable silence of the night, but she is impassible to everything happening around her. Transfixed by fear, she stares at everything and nothing.

Between vampires, trees, and graves she can't make the difference everything is dark and scary. Her eyes refuse the process of accommodation, they are afraid of what they might see, so she rubs on them until she has an approximate sight, but it is a pointless task, blurry silhouettes replace the dark ones.

"Don't be like this dove; nothing will happen to you if it goes according to plan." She jumps at how close the speaker is to her when the voice echoes all around her and she notices Rebekah's hand on her shoulder. It has been there for several minutes but she can barely notice the difference of temperature between the vampire skin and her own skin.

She pulls on her cardigan and tries to keep the cold away but it is pointless. The cold comes from deep inside her; it rolls up every single muscles in ice, and it creates strictures in her throat until she choke. She coughs and lets out a bit of that putrid fear which is choking her.

"And if it does not go according to plan, what happens." She stutters and clears her throat to regain some strength in her voice.

"What happens if I can't bring him back?" she makes herself clearer this time, she stares at the glowing vampire eyes as red as the moon above them.

It another pointless effort to ask because she has seen how failure is rewarded by those people. Rebekah is the only one who is a bit nice to her, and maybe that is why she indulges in futile conversation or it is to be less alone at the instant. Whatever the reason, for a fluttering minute it has benefits. Fear releases its grip on her fragile flesh, the pungent pinch less painful and she can breathe better than she could in the past seconds.

" you have been around us enough to know what happen to those who we have no use for, so I advise you to have greater faith in yourself. " the blonde squeezed her shoulder but her words only feeds Bonnie's fear.

What happens to those who have no use is death, which is not what scares Bonnie. Death and its aftermath are constant companions, what the witch is afraid of is the pain that precedes those deaths, she has never witnessed more frightening moments. her stomach churns at the thought of what happened to the last one whom failed, her cries still resonate in her ear, haunting those cold nights that she has to spend around dangerous strangers, anxanxiously waiting to be next.

In addition, the pain that follows when the soul is plucked of the body is excruciating. She can feel it every time with their last cry resonating for hours through a raging sky, a witch dies natures mourn, vampires are cruel creature how can they live with the act.

The aura that lingers through the air and clogs the lung, making it hard to breath for her and everyone around the death site, if just witnessing can be this painful, she dreads being a victim, but she knows that she is next.

Faith in herself, which sounds like something her Grams will say. Thinking about her grams reminds her that she is alone, there is no longer a Grams, and without her, there is heavy loneness, and a long history of mistakes that led to this night.

However, she has not been physically alone for the last seven days, but she has been alone for the past six months. She spent seven days in their company, a company she never asked for, and she has seen enough to be scared. Witches falling after failure, she is the only one left and once again, she is alone.


She withdraws herself and none of the other creatures around bothers to follow her. They are not afraid that she could seize the opportunity to make a heroic exit. She has nowhere to hide, no one to go to when she does escape, and too much to lose if she runs. She has traded heroic moves for convenient ones, heroism lead her to this moment.

She plucks the free thread on her jeans and she looks at them digging, she absently thinks about all the unwise choices that lead her to this situation. She was just trying to defeat loneliness, and she went to far.

Lack of wisdom is the downfall of a witch her grams used to say. Bonnie used to be wise but then grief arrived. In most situation, transient dementia has for companion grief and loneliness, so she lost her wisdom whilst trying to fight grief and loneliness with deranged ideas. She looks at the nest of vampire in front of her, even as powerful as she is, she can't take them all, and if she can then they still have Jeremy.

Jeremy is her circumstantial fiancé, but circumstances she chooses to forget after all she is still alone. Circumstances beyond her power, the laugh is cynic at the thought because there are so much of those in her life, this is just another one of those circumstances. She pulls on another thread and fascinated she looks at it when it unfolds and loses its blue color, away from the compact material no longer the same. Nothing stands unchanged against loneliness.

She should stop thinking about the past because the present has some demands, she pulls some more on the loose thread of her jeans and her fingers are freezing in this absurd cold, and she surely does not need a horror atmosphere to enhance how frightening her predicament is. Kidnap by a nest of vampire and forced to practice forbidden magic.

One, two, three, and four original vampires and plenty of less original ones. How did she end up tangled in a web where vampires were the spider? Magic and the dark type one. The one only despair can push someone to practice, the same magic she has to perform tonight. As a witch, she is not average but she does not have enough experience to force the supernatural royalty to kidnap her. Kidnap that is how she ended up in this mess, that and her grandmother. It is quite unfair to blame Sheila but Sheila walking corpse can be blamed. Her last attempt at necromancy did not go as expected so she doubts this one will go according to plan.

At the thought of her last failure, tears make their way on the corner of her eyes and she can smell the burning corpse in the atmosphere. Strong smell always pulling her back to that horrid night when she had to burn the mobile cadaver of her grandmother.

She can animate what it is inanimate but life she does not know how to create it. Life asks for a balance, which she has no idea how to maintain, if she had found the way she would not be alone but those vampires around her don't care about such details.


She pulls more on her cardigan, it never seems closed enough, and the cold makes its way into her bone. However, it must be fear creeping from vessel-to-vessel, twisting her stomach, constricting her heart, and asphyxiating her lungs. She wipes the tears born from the lack of air and the constant assault of cold wind. She stares at every little noise in the forest of trees surrounding the grave yard.

"Witch." the voice of the one they call Elijah arises to ensure that she has not gone too far. She does not verbally answer but she makes her way back toward them. She pushes her hand in her pockets and drags her feet toward the group.

"Here, so you don't freeze." he places the jacket of his suit in her hands. She looks at him with a mix of incomprehension and gratitude.

She finds him so strange, who chose to dig up a grave in a suit, and she throws his jacket on her shoulders and places her arms in the sleeves. The musk attach to the textile is disturbing and she knows that no amount of clothing will keep the cold away. The cold feeds on fear and with every passing second the fear becomes stronger. She prays that her magic will not fail her, not today. She looks at her shivering fingers expecting to see the immediate effect of her prayer but they are still shaking.

" now from a bunch of witches that claimed to be able to bring back the dead you're still alive maybe you should focus on that. " he tries to reassure her and she offers what she assumes to be a smile.

Between her and the other witches there is a slight difference, she never claimed being able to practice necromancy but it just happened and it was not a success, the decrepit body of her grandmother enough of a proof. She remembers Sheila body roaming around her house helpless unable to carry a conversation. Just failure starring at her and reminding her that she was alone. She shakes her head to remove the emotions building up and the memories.

"Witch." Being referred to by what she is has become tiring, she feels like nothing more than flesh and bone when it is done. Can they make the effort to learn her name just to give her some familiarity whilst she is in their company? Witch, it is how they called the eight other girls that failed. Well it is too late for the concern of familiarity, she is about to join the other eight in failure. She sucks a deep breath and she refocuses her sight on a moving silhouette, her eyes fights to accommodate the lack of light.

"I think it is time." Elijah places his hand on her small back and pushes her toward the little crowd. She looks at the reddening moon and indeed the time has come.

She has used this type of magic once and success is debatable, she remembers the part breaking away from her barely moving grandmother, she remembers the silent moment when she stared at Sheila body. She remembers holding too tight on ghost, she remembers feeling like nothing without the love that her grams could offer but this moving dead body just stared back.

Her eyes close to stabilize her nerves and the saliva builds up on her tongue, it is a mix of bitter and acidic, almost burning the back of her dry throat. She wield her body into keeping down the rising bile, her Adam apple wobbles and she swallows back her discomfort as she also pushes the ugly memory back. Success that is what she needs to night for Jeremy sake, her own sake lies closer to death than she would like to admit.


It reassures her. She won't have to deal with the aftermath of her sins, cowardice another trait brought by grief, small alteration to her personality, constant with her burning grief. Somewhere between this instant and her grams death, Bonnie Bennett is lost.

She has heard of the creature she is about to infuse with life, he leaves carnage on his path. She has no idea how or what killed him but it was a good deed. Now she is about to undo it but secretly she hopes those people surrounding her will have to go through the same pain she did whilst she burnt Sheila's corpse.

The night envelops and distorts her small frame, her shadow expends on the ground further that it should, she notices details as such because it occupies her mind long enough to distract her from absurd plan that Bonnie Bennett would have attempted.

why does it seems like a mortuary parade, she passes the faces of people unconcern by her fate and her eyes sometime meets empty spots, she turns to face Elijah hoping from some reassurance but his face, expression and entire being have return to what he always was another oppressing stranger.

Transient comfort quickly gone, his hand carefully leading her toward the altar of doom. Not really an altar, Bonnie would have appreciated if they had worked on the scenery, it would have made her fear less ridiculous, but she is not mislead by the lack of ceremony, she has every right to be scared. She tries to recall her spell. She stands straighter and she pulls her hand out of her pockets. The fingers have stopped shaking ready to be put to use. through every emotion there is still some excitement

Two of the vampires that she never bothered remembering as part of the crowd pass her and they drop a heavy coffin on a grave. It covers by mud, crawling insects but beautiful encryptions still find the way to catch her eyes. She recognize the crest that almost seems burned into the wood, they are all wearing it. At the beginning it had her believed that they we're from a coven and they had come to bring her to justice for upsetting the balance, but after her kidnapping details were shared.

Bonnie looks behind her another time, Elijah hand has finally left her small back and he has stepped back and eventually disappeared in the small group. She sighs and places a hand on the coffin. Her fingertips plunge into the sticky mud and one of the multiple insect puncture her skin. She silences a small cry and presses to open the casket. It cracks open and a small light creeps inside to illuminate pale fingers.

He has beautiful hand she notices the weirdest things at the most unsuitable time. She hesitates to push further but hesitation can only buy her minutes. therefore she still waste that time just for personal pleasure.


"Witch." Now the intonation implies a warning, she does not bother distinguishing who calls her name. She no longer looks back and she raises her head to face the engorged moon, a red moon as a child all the witch stories about red moon terrified her.

Now she has become a protagonist of one. Therefore, the atmosphere is fitting, she pushes the top of the coffin, which unceremoniously falls on the ground and the noise is deafening, dust also rises and takes a beautiful amber taint reminding her of small fiery particles that fascinated her as a child.

She quickly retracts her hand as if the dead could bite, she wipes the mud on her jean, and then she tightens her cardigan still fighting to keep the cold away. She can no longer keep hell at bay; she has to go reclaim a soul. The moon will not grow bigger now that it is full and it will not fill itself of more blood.

"The ingredients." her voice is throaty, rusty cords trying to produce audible sounds. She does not even look at the being she has to bring to life; she does not want to have a memory of what she creates with her magic. She has no desired to remember the night when they ask a fallen witch to perform godly task.

A flask full of blood dropped at her feet, fire placed in her hands, biting hearts place on top of his. That is all she might need to bring life back into the dead. She looks once again at the moon, she is praying that it works, and she carefully lit the two hearts in fire a vampire's one and one belonging to a wolf. She recited incantation until the organs burns to ashes and the fire scars his perfectly conserves flesh.

The smell is cause of irritation, bringing old memories to the surface. Her eyes burn through tears but through all of it, the cold stays the worse. Words of precedent apology flashing in her mind and she is transported back to the night where the bone fire that swallow Sheila warmed her freezing body.

She squashes the thoughts to bring herself back into the present moment. The cold, her hair moves with winds, whilst nature hurls her to stop. It feels as if it is nibbling at her bones from limb to limb, the cold always stronger and that makes her stubborn, she wants to defeat it and scar nature by her act like nature did her heart. Sheila died trying to reestablish natural balance, then it only fair she fights such thing.

She calmly collects the ashes and places them inside the blood, some fly away carried by the strong wave of wind. She tells more incantations and brings the burning liquid to his mouth. She forces the liquid down his dead throat. Where there is a beginning of life being unfused inside his body, she is unsure about the soul.

His finger jolt and latch on the arm forcing the liquid down to his throat. His nails dig in her fragile flesh, plucking until she bleeds. she can feel something attach itself to her and she tries to push it out.

A loud scream escapes her throat and his hold on her becomes tighter. Her cornea slowly gains a new blurry shade and she can no longer see. She has given life to his body but his soul has latch on her body. he search through her mind, emotions anything he can graft himself to.

When green can no longer be seen, Klaus' soul cohabits with her. She slowly stumbles and they both fall. Part of the skin in her arm is torn but his nails still digs into her flesh. There is a choice to be made, she rather let him drag her through the path of death, or she pulls him with her back into the leaving.

It is a gauche symbiosis but his only way of survival. they have nothing linking them but a common companion. Klaus and Bonnie are both victim of loneliness. He graft himself on her, she awakens from her syncope.

The creature has turned her body into a soul incubator; her body won't hold it longer. Klaus latches at every space and after being alone for so long, the discomfort is unsupportable. He talks to her, spills thoughts and makes it impossible to focus.

"silence." she shouts in despair but he only floods her with more memories, with knowledge and he nibs at part of her soul with a threatening speed. It is he or she, he whispers idea how to save them both, he guides her on what to do and instructs what magic she should uses. When she stops being stubborn, she listens and they shares.

He is turning her into a portal between both worlds. She hears the wind hurling louder. The cold is expending faster but her new companion knows how to stop the cold. He distracts her with more memories. Most of them are horrific and scare her. He exhausts her with his thoughts, he feeds on her essence and her magic until he can make the lip. Then he is gone, he releases her hand and she fully collapse.

Eventually she feels that bit of her that she planted in him pulse, it clings on his soul and drags it back inside his body. She is drained when the essence of her magic invigorates him, fuels his entire being. She finally succeeded in giving life with a part of her. He still has to open his eyes but she knows that he is alive. She feels it with a part of her living in him. She has created a companionship, for a fraction of second she was not alone, he was there with her, and he pushed the cold away.


"Blood." She calls to the vampires standing behind her. She feels his craving sticking on her tongue, blood he will need a lot of it. It weird not to be alone in her head. She awaits but nothing, she turns to see if someone is bringing the blood but gone.

They are all gone. She is truly alone with him. It starts to make sense now that he is awake she is of no use, and she knows what they do to those of no use. forever meant to be the sacrificial Lamb.

Tears of anger built up in her eyes. She shouts her fury and the wind picks up, it is no longer to undermine her magic but it is to mourn with her. She wants run, but he grounds her feet, her decision made by another episode of transient dementia, he lured her with the warmth. She feels through that involuntary bond, it is comforting not to be alone; the cold is gone replaced by warm. He has not completely left her head.

She takes a spot by the side of that coffin and she waits for life to burgeon fully in him. It is ironic how all along she has been scared but now that she is aware of her fate, she is not scared. In her last hour, she won't be alone and when she passes to the other side, she will meet her grams. There is no need to cling on life when loneness has made the experience so scary.

It feels warm; she feels the warm expanding itself travelling through his blood. She patiently waits for his soul to attach itself back to his body. She waits to be alone again; she lets it travel through her. It warms her, it devours that cold who made her life impossible the past months, it pushes away the grief with that silent companionship even if his constant thought announce her doom. Blood, strong craving, her throat is burning; no amount of saliva can control such roaring fire. She whispers words and a wound opens on her wrist.

"Here." She presses her wrist on his mouth and she waits for the life into his body to crawl back to the surface. His lips latch on her skin and they suck voraciously. He sucks until the beats of her heart start faltering, and she feels his soul pulling away from her. The cold seems to comeback but she is not panicked, he will make it cease. It feels like a piece of clothes abruptly torn, the connection not fully severed, a little piece of him stuck in her. She removes her hand, if she runs now with a piece of him she can survive. She won't be completely alone.

"Blo...od ..." The sound is throaty, he has not spoken in months, and he feels everything and nothing in his muscles and flesh. He hoped to wake up alone but he is not. She has been leading his path back to his body. She stupidly stayed when those who know him left.


Witches he will remember not to underestimate them. He died alone, left on battlefield by his owns and he expected loneness when he came back, they are nowhere to be seen but he dragged part of her with him. He feels cold, loneliness never bothered him, but now he feels cold. It is all on her, he places his hand on his throat, and she looks at him fascinated.

"Blood...blood. "He has better control of his words but his mind blurred by craving. He cracks his rusty bones and seats to face his frozen victim. He knows picks up scent, his eyes narrows and glows with lust for life. All the small noises assaulting his ears until they become deafening.

"They did not left any." She answers calmly and she looks at him, he waits for her to run but she stays in place. Her voice has anchored him in the moment, and he slowly adjusts to being alive again.

"They left you." he says matter of factly and he places his slender digits against her skin. She looks at them hesitantly but she still doesn't move, and she stupidly leans closer to him so she can bask on that feeling of not being alone.

"They did." she confirms and she has already accepted her fate and the growing loneliness in her made her lean closer to staying. She does not want to be alone and he is here. She wants to lean on that bond as long as she can. She does not want to spent her last moment alone

"And why are you still here. Why are you not running?" he knows the answers, the part of her soul that he dragged with him has the answer.

"I don't run that fast and bringing you back to life has taken all of me." she whispers what they know to be lies.

"It is going to be painful but I will try not to..." He sighs and he sees no use to reassure her. She nods and she tightens Elijah's jacket. Then she remembers that he is naked. She removes it and passes it to him.

"You can still try to run." he attempts to convince her for the sake of those minutes of companionship they found and that has been severed abruptly.

She closes her eyes, she takes a deep breath and finally stops holding tightly to her cardigan. She breathes and she waits for it to happen. His arms surround her waist and he pulls her against him. He takes in the scent of every inch of her skin, she smells like what he thinks life should, a soft touch of sweetness, and too much bitterness hidden behind layer of soft scents, he places his nose on her carotid pulse and watches as the hair rises on her skin.

His throat constrict at the strong pulse and the smell of the delicate nectar. He breaks contact between them just to look at her for an instant. She still has her eyes tightly closed, he leans and drops a soft kiss on her forehead, and then he savagely latches on her throat.