The Locket

It's a regular day at 'Blood Un', the only school that accepts a variety of kids because they're 'troublemakers' (12,000 students' total people). The sun in Hiss Cross, England, an uncharted location, is shimmering in the deep lakes throughout the small town. The devil's daughter, Cleopatra or Cleo, is silently reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the hundredth time this year of 2011. Her crimson waves stretch to her waist line, long and wavy. Her sea-green eyes much like teal sparkle with excitement as she soaks in each breath-taking moment of J.K. Rowling's last Harry Potter novel, unless she thinks up one in the future that is. On Cleo's right is Kimie, a young vampire with black croppy strands, albino skin, sparkling jade eyes that flash with admiration at the cup of blood she now stares at, and her outfit of a sleeveless black dress that flows to her ankles, a part cut out to reveal all of her right leg from the knee down, black heels, and a vampire choker from The Pyramid Collection, one of her favorite fashion magazines. But, on that lonely gray brick edge of the ceiling, sits another. This one has platinum blonde hair that could be easily mistaken for the light itself, reaching straight down to the mid-back. Her irises, unlike most, are pitch-black, not gray, not deep brown, but black. Her wear, as usual, consisted of the everyday cream-colored T-shirt with a wavy trimmed collar and three pearl buttons running down. Her black skirt is down to her mid-thighs, her legs thin and bony, like the rest of her body. Her black Mary Jane's each have a cloth white rose on the side of the straps running across the tops, her knee high socks white and nearly blending with the palest shade of albino the world has ever known. This girl is known as Mira Miracle Mirror, a 'lost cause' in her father's opinion.

Now, she's suddenly morphed into the bad guy, right? You're wrong. She's a delicate twenty-five year old, her perfectly smooth skin never bulging for what it's worth. She has a fragile sweet tooth that falls into the simplest of sweet temptations, her teeth straight and perfect. That's the problem. She's 'too perfect' and he decides to favor the whore, Tiffany 'Dizzy' Mirror. Mira never frowns upon this, nor smiles. She keeps to her thoughts, her voice never revealed. She never fears, never questions. This is something that scares, but devils, vampires, and boys looking for cuties, never back down. As Mira sits here, she gently flips to the next page of Talking for Dummies with a silent THWACK! Kimie stares at her cup of blood; admiring the numerous necks of the college students below, being the nineteen-year-old self she is. Cleo, born in December 12, 1212, smirks at her and crosses her legs, her cargo pants ruffling. Again, even as Cleo practically feeds the innocent students to Kimie, Mira doesn't frown, nor smile, just read, her eyes glued to each word in text.

Kimie jumps down, landing on her high heels and gradually slipping her hand up her right leg to get some jocks, loving the athletic blood. Cleo snickers and turns to Mira, shutting her book while a human nail kept her place. "You need to speak," Cleo's French accent rings. "How will you ever fall in love with that?"

Mira didn't frown, or smile, or speak again, her position of shifting onto her shins for seating answering Cleo's question loud and clear. Cleo, even though she's more frightful than the Antichrist, is scared of getting her facts wrong, since she is to be the better than her brother. How could she do such if she had the signals wrong all these years? She shakes her head of the vile thought and stand on the edge, also jumping and landing on her feet, her sneakers slamming onto the ground. Mira didn't look up from book, but she didn't have to in order to find Professor Cassandra, the Science teacher also Cleo's mother, standing behind her with a rusty locket clutched firmly in her long, bony right hand. Mira didn't shut her book like you should, she didn't say 'Hello, professor' like you should, she just sat there, reading and waiting for Cassandra to get on with her purpose.

"Mira," Cassandra smiles behind the girl herself, "how would you like to be a certain test subject?"

Mira knows where this is going, yet she doesn't argue, doesn't say a word. Cassandra smirks in victory and leans on the edge next to the young one, wrapping the locket around the girl's neck. The surface is muddy, crusty, and rusty, but Mira can tell 'S.T' is carved in one side, the 'T' scratched in half, and 'M.M' on the other, the chuck with most of the second 'M' missing. The locket is cracked through the center, revealing a various amount of dried blood being used as its glue. An abusive nature, one Mira is bleak about her true emotions about. Cassandra drags out a little flickering box, a screen covering the entire back.

"When I flip the green switch," Cassandra lectures, pointing to the parts as she goes, "you'll be teleported into the time I assign you to. Now, you're probably going to go in and out, so try not to be seen!"

Mira doesn't nod, nor panic, nor scream in protest, she just reads her book. She reads a book on how to talk. She reads a book on how to communicate for the joys of it. Cassandra walks away, probably testing Mira on how not to be seen. That shouldn't be a problem, since the only one in Hiss Ford that doesn't pay heed to her want of peace is Oss, the captain of the football team. Mira doesn't care, she just reads on how to do something she has never done, and then, she stops with realization. Tomorrow would be Cleo's birthday, December 12, 2011. She doesn't smile. She doesn't frown. Mira just looks blankly at the pages, no longer reading. She thinks about the perfect gift for the first friend she had ever known, the perfect gift. She focuses back at a caption in the book.

'When a friend wants to talk, they usually start with an expression directed towards you.'

That's what Mira will do, send a first smile! She shuts the book and stands, blank, looking down at the ground deep down. She turns and heads for the stairs, reaching for the knob before stopping in a mid movement. She looks back at the edge and drops her hand at her side. She looks at the ground blankly and turns fully, running for it and jumping into the air, doing a few rolls in the air. She hears female students scream before she lands perfectly on her feet. She notices her book is missing and looks up, the book plummeting at her head. She raises a hand and the book slips between her thumb and pointing finger. She curls her other fingers around the side of the book and starts walking off, smiling only in the inside. This plan would only work, if Cassandra didn't wreck it with her project.

Mira stares at the pages, her crossed legs the only proof of any frustration. Tiffany is throwing one of her parties, and it started at 7:00 P.M. The cause of Mira's frustration would be the fact that it's December 12 now. Cleo is also frustrated, but only because Tiffany is a envious, greedy, B*TCHY, whiny, slutty PR*CK who wears boy's clothing everyday because she sleeps with some guy every night. She's the perfect devil! Mira shuts the book and looks at Cleo, breathing once before doing what Cleo thought was impossible, smile. Cleo blinks and looks behind her, looking back at Mira.

"Who fed you on crack?" Cleo accuses. "Come on, spit it out now."

Mira smiles wider towards Cleo. "I just wanted to say Happy Birthday, jeez."

Cleo falls back. That voice like a flute and a violin in perfect unison, soft and gentle like lavender velvet, that voice came from the one person who has never talked in her natural life-time. Mira smiles gently, not trying to not stretch her smooth snow placed gently evenly upon steel supports inside rough, yet small pink 'stuffing'. Cleo stares at her and looks around, sitting up now.

"I'm serious, where's the crack?" she demands. "I'm desperate!"

Mira rolls her eyes and unfolds her legs, looking at Tiffany. Cleo follows Mira's gaze and smirks. Time for Miss Silent to do something she should've done long ago. Mira sets the book on its side in mid-air, her fingers curled softly around the bottom. She flicks her hand forward, thrusting her arm the same direction, and the book comes down hard against Tiffany's temple, the corner digging into the skin and leaving a fairly nasty dent. Tiffany screams and people start rushing over, staring at the large dent. Cleo laughs in victory, sliding back into her seat and spotting the door open, Kimie walking through all high and mighty. Behind her is a small present, large enough for a large red box (dare you to find that out), with crimson wrap and a charcoal ribbon. Mira smiles at Kimie and she frowns, leaning to Cleo.

"Where's the crack?" she asks.

Mira hears and shakes her head, smiling. "Sorry, all crack has gone into a police man's pockets."

Cleo and Kimie giggle, finding her joke not bad for a beginner. "She has grown up, Charles!" Cleo clings to Kimie's waist, being the ridiculous weirdo she is.

"Let go!" Kimie laughs, pushing at her arms.

"Since you said that, I will NEVER!" Cleo laughs maniacally.

"You evil son of a-"

Kimie stares at Mira now, blinking and gapping. Mira looks down at the locket Cassandra handed her earlier yesterday and finds it glowing. It's happening. Mira stands up and runs out of the door, everything melting in the light. Cleo and Kimie chase after her, wanting to know what was wrong, even though Cleo is slowly becoming more angel than devil. Cleo doesn't care, but she wants to know what's going on with Mira, the only one who ever dared defy her. She has to admit, Mira has guts. Mira keeps running, not panting, not smiling, not frowning, but returning to her state where she's silent alone, invisible. The light of the locket crawls over her, Cleo, and Kimie, swallowing them into a black pit of flashing orbs of various colors. The orbs soar past, and their clothes melt into tar, morphing into something Cleo is far too familiar with, the eighteen hundreds' wear in London, England. The locket starts to clear, cracks sealing and any missing chunks appearing. Suddenly, a dark sky appears, a crash rings in their ears, sore backs come along, shattered crates underneath them. It seems stormy, but Cleo knows it, since she visited the dreary place a few times herself. The sound of footsteps cease immediately after the crash, Mira blinking up to the sky. The corner of the building in front of them contained a rather P*SSED man, holding a knife in one hand.

"Won't you dang whores die?" he snarls.

Cleo stands up, her devilish nature beginning to take over. "Who are you calling whores you d*m mother f*ck?" she screams.

"Whoa, okay," Kimie wines as she massages the back of her head with her right hand. "We don't need to pick a fight here."

Mira stands and stares down at her dress. It's beige with brown stripes, long sleeves that puff up at the soldiers and once the puff ends at the beginning of the upper arm, it's straight and lean from there. Cream buttons trail down the torso, the locket secure around her neck with M.M. on its proper side, S.T left to be desired. The dress is long, like it should be for this particular time period. Mira knows this, it's the simplest thing to get! Kimie rubs her head and stares at the locket, raising a brow.

"How'd we get here?" she whispers.

"Easy, Mom," Cleo mutters in reply.

Mira looks down the alley and starts walking down, a knife landing at her feet. She continues and another comes down, but someone yanks her out of the way before it has the chance to hit her. She blinks and is stuck against a wall, a pale man gripping her shoulder and pinning it to the wall. His hair is messy and black, a single white streak at the top right of his head. His eyes are brown, deep, but brown. His wear is a long black coat and pantaloons Mira can't clearly make out in a night like such. The man stares at the man above the building, blinking sternly. He turns to Mira.

"Are you alright?" he asks in a deep, shy voice. Mira doesn't respond. "Oh forget it."

He runs forward and past an alley way, turning left for a set of stairs only in Kimie's line of sight. Kimie glances up at the man with the knife, licking her lips hungrily with blood lust, seeing his pulse is at a fast rate. She glances at Cleo, who nods. Kimie bends her knuckles up, her mid-finger joints down, her fangs protruding out behind her upper lip and her black, off-shoulder eighteen hundreds' dress with white lace for wavy trim ruffling as she jumps up onto the wall and starts crawling, her claws snapping and cracking the bricks. The man drops the knife, realizing the horrible trouble he's in, and starts to run, when a fist dislocates his jaw. He stumbles to the edge and Kimie jerks him down, his shirt neckline the perfect noose. Mira blankly watches as the neck snaps, blood leaking out of a skin crack, and turns to walk away, planning to follow Cassandra's advice and stay hidden. A cold, dead-like hand grips her wrist and Mira blankly turns to Cleo, smirking slightly.

"Come on, Mi, you can't get home that way," she points out.

Mira blinks at the fingers curling around her wrist and watches as the man who 'saved' her comes down the alley once again. Kimie licks her lips clean of the drained blood, dumping the drained corpse into a crate, and the top crashing through with the weight. Mira peels off Cleo's fingers and starts to walk away, right when the man took the other wrist and Cleo the same one she had previously seized. Mira glares at the both of them, Cleo yelping and jumping back. Mira's glare is that of Cleo's father, or worse if possible. Her black irises are pitch dark and frigid, Kimie swearing she saw frost line the murky orbs. Lightening flashes in the sky, illuminating the soul takers of He** and thunder following soon afterword. Oddly, the man is not afraid, even though the devil's daughter is frightened out of her wits, yet refuses to show it. Mira turns around, glaring at the ground, and grits her teeth, one perfect tooth revealed.

"You didn't have to play hero, sir," she growls under her breath. "I could've done well on my own."

He lets go. "Huh, my thoughts are now protruding into reality."

Mira turns, eyebrows furrowed. "Those thoughts would be what exactly, sir?" she whispers, being the newest talker yet.

He growls out his answer nastily, "The thoughts that you were just an unappreciative woman like the rest."

Cleo steps between them. "Look, sir, if it's trouble you're so dearly asking for, do NOT pick a fight against someone you wouldn't have a chance against. This is the only time I will give you that warning."

Cleo knows what Mira can do, being a devil and all. She knows she's fearless, she's ruthless, and most of all…merciless. The man rolls his dark brown eyes and starts to walk away, his right fist wrapped around the strap of a large black bag on his right shoulder. Kimie's eyes follow his movements, shaking off the cold feeling at the back of her albino neck. Something about that man is hateful, dark, and cold, just like Mira's glare, except softer. Kimie shakes her light head of a black bob and notes Mira's position, stiff and her eyes dry, even though it is uncommonly moist in this particular alley. Kimie can't bring herself to think that Mira is becoming what Kimie is d*med to and what Cleo's reality has her suffer through, or in her case, 'the greatest times of her life'. Yes, that d*med fate and cruel reality spoken of is, in fact, becoming a devil of Satin's own creation.