I was browsing deviantART one day when suddenly I came across a picture that drove within me inspiration.
It's a piece called "Magnet" by dA member bloochikin—and hot dog, is it ever awesome! If I could link it to you, I would. In brief, it's a picture of an older Helga and Arnold, back-to-back, holding hands… with a twist.
Helga is a demon, and Arnold is an angel.
That concept, just that very idea was so brilliant in my eyes that I had to make a story off of it. An epic tale of romance! Revenge! Segregation! Bad jokes! Obscure mythological references! A tale that would certainly knock your proverbial socks off if I were a better writer!
But I'm not a better writer, so instead I'll grace you with my dreadful attempt. :D Enjoy my failure at making something dramatic.
(It's fun to abuse exclamation points, by the way.)
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Prologue
She had heard of Heaven before, but had never seen it.
Her parents would talk about it on occasion, and when her older sister was home, sometimes she would listen to her tell stories of it. The descriptions painted beautiful pictures in her mind, no matter how brutally they were said—a world where winged souls flutter through the clouds, where the sky is always blue, the season is spring, and creatures spend the afterlife in peace. The residents of Heaven, known as "angels," she heard little about, though she knew they were "denizens of things such as 'truth' and 'love.'"
Heaven. The upper-world. To her, it sounded like an amazing place, and she hoped she could see it someday.
She had heard of Earth before, but had never seen it.
Words about this land were much more common in her realm than those of Heaven. A land of neutrality, as things changed all the time, for better or worse. A place where many mysterious monsters and magics remain in hiding from human eyes. Fauns. Goblins. Ogres. Leprechauns. The skies change from blue to black regularly, and the seasons switch out in a four-way cycle. Creatures are born, live, and die.
Earth. The over-world. It intrigued her that there could be such a thing as changing conditions, so she hoped she could see it someday as well.
And then there was Hell.
A sulfurous plane, in the depths of the Earth's core, hidden by the layer of ground on which over-world creatures walk. A place where pain is considered comedy to its locals, the demons, and endless torture is just a part of their day. Fire rages from the various volcanoes, and the souls damned to a life in this plane are killed over and over and over again simply for the demons' amusement. The skies were always a deep red, the sooty clouds rain acid, and the entire realm smells of burning wine, as punishment for these souls' desires. The underworld.
She should know.
Helga G. Pataki, a female roughly four human years in age, was one of the demons.
Whether she was considered a living being or simply a soul is debatable, but she existed along with her family in a tiny castle near the Gates of Hell. She had only recently been brought into existence for her superiors, Big Bob, Miriam, and Olga Pataki, bring her up as another happy tormentor for the unlucky dead.
Yeah, right.
True, Helga was brought up by these older demons. True, she enjoyed torturing the poor unfortunate souls cast into the underworld by death. And true, she definitely lived in a little castle, bleak, black, and bloody.
But she was most certainly not a happy demon.
It was another stifling morning when Helga awoke. She stretched on her hard rock bed, cramped and uncomfortable from another bad night's sleep. Tossing aside the rags she used as blankets, Helga jumped off her "mattress" and walked over to the large metal shard she used for a mirror. Considering her age, she was rather short as demons go, her small, pronged tail swishing after her. She flapped her little, pinkish, bat-like wings and hovered off the ground for a moment before collapsing back on the obsidian floor. Nope, still too tired to fly. With little hair-bands, she tied her blonde locks into two ponytails, and a big pink bow onto her head.
With a sigh, she gazed at the reflection of the top of her head. No horns. Still? Helga groaned as she put on the white shirt and pink overalls her father had stolen from an over-world girl. Every demon was supposed to have horns at the age of one human year. She had the tail. She had the wings. She even had the sharp, pointed fingernails and toenails. Why haven't her horns grown in yet?
Her eyes were also different from most demons. Blue. Like a sky in Heaven, though she had never seen a blue sky before. Everything indigenous to Hell came in shades of fair, brown, black, red, orange and yellow—including eye-colors.
Why did she have to be different?
Helga walked downstairs to the kitchen, the room bloody from the slaughtered creatures all demons loved to eat. Undoubtedly, her family had breakfast without her. Again. Big Bob and Miriam were crowding around the organ, where Olga was playing a deep and deadly tune on-key.
When Olga finished, Miriam shook her hand and drawled, "That was marvelous, my sweet little tormentor."
"You're a bloody genius!" Big Bob added.
"Father?" Helga said, walking over and tugging on Big Bob's slacks, "Who's going to take me to preschool?"
"Hmm?" He turned and looked down at Helga, expectantly gazing up at him. He shook her off of his foot and lied, "Oh yeah, yeah sure… play us another one, Olga."
"I know a good one," Olga purred, her faultless red wings folded neatly at her side, vermillion tail swishing around beneath her. Helga couldn't help but notice her sister's perfect horns, curling with a deadly point around her head, like a powerful ram. "How about 'The Phantom of the Opera?'"
"Oh, I love that one!" Miriam slurred.
"I'm so proud of you, Olga."
Miriam turned to look at Big Bob, grinning drunkenly in the brown light. "Can you believe it, Bob? Best organist at 15, head of the Gore Club in her high school…"
"Amazing, right?" he boomed, proudly patting her on the shoulder. "Plus she won every flying contest in the whole damn underworld! Makes me proud to be a Pataki."
Helga rolled her eyes. Olga was always best at everything. Fastest flyer. Farthest fire-breather. A torturer to top all torturers. Not to mention her fascination and perfection with the dark arts and magic, as well as organ music. It was enough to drive Helga out of her mind.
"Hey! Who's taking me to preschool?!"
Big Bob glared at Helga. "In a minute, Olga."
"I'm Helga, dad. Helga!"
"Whatever. Go kick a dead dog's soul, would ya?"
Heavy-hearted and furious at her superiors, Helga grabbed her small lunchbox and stormed to the door. "I'm going to preschool."
The organ stopped. "Perfectly on-key! You're amazing, Olga!"
"I'm going to preschool!"
Slamming the door, Helga walked outside just as it started to rain acid. As a demon she was naturally immune to it, but she could hear the soft, muffled screams of people in the distance. With no drachmas for the boat-ride across the River Styx, Helga started to walk. The school was in the over-world, she knew, in the ruins of a Greek city known as "Hillwood." So, logically, she'd have to exit from Hell's Gate to go there.
In complete silence the young demon walked, upset at her family, upset at herself, and upset that the rain was tarnishing her hair. She hardly paid any attention to the drunk and snoring demon on the ashy path, or the demon lashing a soul with a flaming whip. Her self-pity was so strong that it would have taken an earthquake to shatter it.
At the banks of the Styx, Helga began to flap her puny wings, the weight of her metal tin driving her close to the water. A few moaning souls reached up for her, struggling to grab her by the tail and pull the four-year-old into the well with them.
One of them managed snagged her foot. "H-hey!" Helga squealed, kicking it. The soul screamed as it fell into the water, splashing Helga and covering her with muddy silt. Spitting out some dirt, Helga's wings began to clog with the weight of the mud. With a soft thud, she landed on the other side, right in front of Hell's Gate.
Stunned, Helga burbled her password: "H.G.P."
At once the gate opened, revealing to her a barren landscape of only rocks. Picking herself up again, Helga padded into the void, her eyes catching onto the opening of the tunnel to the Temple of Athens—the place where all demons had access to the over-world. To Earth.
RRRRRMPPH.
Helga spun around as something caught her lunchbox. Cerberus, the guardian dog of Hell, had gripped onto it with one of his three heads. And with a yank…
Splat!
…Cerberus tossed her lunchbox in the air, chewed it with his iron fangs, and swallowed it as Helga fell into the grimy dirt. The middle head pouted at the first head, clearly upset that it didn't get a treat. The third head glowered at Helga, snarling in a voice like thunder, "Leeeeaaaave."
Screaming, Helga tore like fire to the tunnel, wings flapping for more acceleration. The little demon grabbed her pronged tail, terrified at everything at once and nearly on the verge of tears as she reached the opening to the over-world.
***
She had climbed for ten minutes, though to her it seemed like hours. Helga emerged from the doors of the Temple of Athens, covered in mud and grime, wings congested with dirt, and bow tattered somewhat from the ornery climb. It rained in the over-world too, she noticed. The precipitation was cold and wet and stung her eyes.
"Water?!" Helga exclaimed. Every harsh drop that collided on her skin felt like needles injecting lava into her bloodstream. It hurt. Hissing like a little rattlesnake, the young demon fled under a tree, which provided little shelter against the driving raindrops.
She wanted to cry. Her family, her day, her very life felt like they were crumbling on top and around her. Why couldn't they just accept her and take her to preschool just like any other parent would, be they demon or angel, human or half-breed?
Quietly sighing to herself, Helga took a moment to take in the view. Is this the over-world? Helga thought. The sky was gray and overcast, still raining the dreadful water that sent pain through her body. There was a dusty brown path, much lighter than the one in Hell, but still thick and muddy. Little green stalks were popping up everywhere on the ground. What are those things? And what's this thing I'm leaning on? Helga felt the tree with her sharp nails. Is this a "green?"
A particularly large water-drop smacked Helga on the head. She shouted in surprise, starting to shiver intensely from the cold. When you live in Hell, cold is just something that you're not used to.
She got up and began to walk along the path, grimacing in pain. A tall sign painted with gold letters stated proudly, P.S.118 for the Mythological – Turn right at next corner. Helga sniffled, her bones numbing to the sting, her breaths growing short from exhaustion and threatening tears.
Suddenly, she felt the rain stop hammering her back.
In surprise, Helga turned, and her eyes caught onto the most peculiar person she had ever seen.
It was a boy wearing a raincoat. He had an oblong head and tall stalks of hair—blonde, just like hers. His eyes were a light green, like the small stalks from the ground.
Then she noticed he had wings too, but not like any she'd ever seen. They were small like hers, but a sparkly white and covered in feathers. He didn't have horns… or a tail either, for that matter. Helga's eyes drew up to where he held a little umbrella. Something strange, round, and creamy-white was glowing above his head.
"Hi," he said sweetly, smiling gently at the little demon. "Nice bow."
Still confused and in pain, Helga breathed, "W-what?"
"I like your bow," he grinned, "Because it's pink like your pants."
In spite of everything, Helga felt herself smiling. A warm feeling filled her up from head to toe, and she could feel her cheeks start to grow even pinker than her bow or her pants. She didn't know it then, but eventually she learned a few words for this feeling.
Compassion. Acceptance.
Love.
He walked her up near the school, protecting Helga from the rain with his umbrella. With every step they took, Helga grew fonder and fonder of this boy.
And then she realized she didn't know his name.
"What is your name?" Helga asked, innocently curious, flashing the boy her best smile.
"Arnold," he said. "What's yours?"
"Helga."
"I like it," he complemented, still grinning sweetly. Helga started to walk ahead by a little bit, her heart aflutter with his words.
Arnold paused.
Helga screamed as some fresh rainwater hit her head. She backed up into the umbrella, wrapping her tail around her and clenching it in her hands. Frightened, Arnold asked, "What's wrong? Are you okay?!"
"I… think."
"I'm so sorry!" Arnold exclaimed, genuinely hurt that he had harmed the little demon. "It's just… I didn't know you had a tail."
Helga stared at the thin, pronged tail in her hand. She felt… angry. Why did that upset her? "Well," she retorted, "at least I have a tail. You don't have one at all!"
"That's so cool!"
Her brain felt as if it froze in time. Trying to process what he just said, she whispered, "Say what?"
"I think that's awesome!" Arnold laughed, good-naturedly smiling again. "I wish I had a tail. Can you pick stuff up with it?"
Helga smiled embarrassedly, feeling a little guilty for yelling at him. "Sometimes."
"Awesome," he breathed again, looking psyched that he had met someone with something as simple as a tail. Helga giggled a little.
A weird temptation came over her. For the first time in her life, she felt inclined to say something… nice.
"I…" she hesitated, "I like that… thing…"
"What thing?"
"Above your head. The glowing round thing."
"You mean my halo?"
Helga nodded shyly.
Arnold's eyes half-closed. "Thanks…" he said. "No one's ever complemented me on my halo before."
"Well, no one's complemented me on my tail before," Helga snickered. "But I guess that's because everyone where I come from has one."
"Same with the halos," Arnold replied. He tilted his oblong head. "Those are really interesting wings you have."
"Really?" Helga asked, lifting her arm and tilting around to get a look at her tiny demon wings. "They aren't that uncommon where I'm from." She glanced at his wings. "What about yours? I've never seen wings like that in my life!"
Arnold raised an eyebrow. "That's weird. Most of us have wings like this where I live. Where are you from?"
"I'm from—."
"SHORTMAN!"
About twenty feet ahead of them, soaring down from the skies with a pair of feathered wings, was an elderly man with an odd cleft in his chin. He was wearing brown overalls over a white shirt. Like Arnold, he also had one of those glowing 'halos'—whatever those were. The man appeared to be panicked.
"Grandpa! What's wrong?"
He ignored Arnold. "Get away from my grandson, you monster!" He grabbed Helga by the back of her shirt. She screamed in protest.
"Hey! Lemme go!"
"Grandpa, stop!"
He lifted Helga out from under the umbrella and tossed her into a puddle. She screeched in fear, pain, and shock as she fell into the water, waves of suffering throbbing through her body.
"Helga!"
"Don't move, Shortman." Helga watched as Arnold's grandfather ushered him under the umbrella. "Scum like that doesn't deserve kindness."
Arnold narrowed his eyes. His wings flapped in rage. "Helga's no monster."
"No monster?!" Grandpa roared. "She's a demon!"
"WHAT?" Arnold gaped as if he had been struck by lightning.
"You know. A demon. Hellspawn. Torturers of humans, angels, and every magical creature out there. This… this thing… belongs to the same race that stole your parents away from you!"
Arnold was about to cry. "Grandpa, I…"
"Look at the tail! Those fiendish, bat-like wings! Those nasty, sharp nails! Angels like us have no business meddling with these monsters."
Helga practically broke into tears. An angel? Arnold, the first person to walk her to school, the first person to complement her, the first person to care that she got hurt, was an angel?!
She could believe it, and yet Helga didn't understand how this was even possible.
"Come on, Shortman," his grandfather growled quietly, pushing Arnold towards P.S.118. "School is right this way."
Arnold's grandpa flew away, back to Heaven on his silky white wings. Helga struggled getting herself out of the water, her every muscle screaming in agony from the chilling wet. Her bangs dripped in front of her eyes, fogging her vision. She pushed them away. Arnold was still standing there, tears running down his face. Helga's spirit plummeted. That expression. That pure look of depression and betrayal.
Helga could hardly take it.
Slowly, hesitantly, Arnold walked towards her again. He held out his hand and lifted her to her feet, his expression unreadable. Helga said nothing. She could barely look him in the eyes. In those perfect, sad eyes.
Both silent, they walked together to the front steps of the school, the rain on Arnold's umbrella being the only sound to break the monotony.
"Goodbye, Helga."
Arnold closed his umbrella, eyes dull. Helga wished that she could pierce his mind, that she could convince him that she wasn't the monster his grandpa insisted she was.
The angel walked to the door of the school. Helga stood behind, watching him, her blue eyes growing glossy.
"Goodbye…."
Helga sat down, closed her eyes, and began to weep.
To be continued…
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D: Helga! Don't cry! Well, I guess life/afterlife/existence can be a bee-yawtch sometimes.
So, I have some questions for you… do you like the idea? Do you dislike it? Did I pull off an interesting prologue, or have I just generally sucked this entire time? Please let me know, as I want to make this story a good experience for my readers.
One quick thing I'd like you to know: yes, I'm fully aware how out-of-character Grandpa is in this prologue. Trust me, he's going to be in-character for the majority of the story, but I wanted to establish ahead of time that he hates demons with a passion. Why does he hate them? It'll be explained further in future chapters.
Thank you for reading and have a nice day.
