Chapter 1: Look What Dragged the Cat In
Author's note: This does contain some offensive stuff that I'm kinda new to
writing. It's not your usual shit, so I just have to warn you religious
people that really care about what's in the Bible. This is actually a bit
sick. If you count everything. So I warn you now, and now you know. Don't
flame me with "That's soooo sick!", because I have told you that you have
to brace yourself a bit if you want to read this. Thank-you. Yeah, I be a
freak, so what. Also, I'm kinda new to the whole gothic/dark/hoobadee-
whabadee writing, so here goes. Have fun.
A girl sat on a homemade wooden swing. The swing was made of a thick wooden plank; neatly stained to a redwood colour. Thick ropes attached the wooden plank to a large redwood tree. The redwood stood magnificently in front of a Victorian style house from the eighteen thirties. Tall white columns stood holding a low balcony with hand-carved, ebony rails. Several windows with black shutters were scattered across the whole face of the house. A large, crimson door with a shimmering gold handle stood between the tall white columns. A porch of limestone was where the door and columns stood. The porch had two ebony chairs that matched the railing of the balcony above. Three limestone stairs connected the gravel walkway to the porch. The gat sat, looking in the opposite direction of her home. The girl wore a long dress as she sat and slowly swung. The girl's old style Victorian, white frill dress swayed as she gracefully rocked back and forth on the wooden swing. Her sleek brown hair though held back with a medium sized pink bow, slowly moved with the rest of her thin, teenage body as it rocked. Her feet, which were in shining black dress shoes, danced slowly across the earth as if she steadied the swing incase she was in need to move quickly. Her neck had a thin white choker wrapped around it; barely visible because of her head. Her head was somewhat tilted, but stayed in its spot as the rest of her body rocked in the movement of the swing. She was smiling softly; her lips painted a faint shade of pink, at two boys. Her icy blue eyes looked upon them with glee; a playful desire that urged her to keep her eyes focused. Small, soft giggles emitted from her mouth every now and then as she kept her eyes on the boys with interest. It had always interested her to see this. See violence that is. She never had any pity for whoever it was being caused harm. Throughout her life, when hearing of war, death, and other casualties, she remained eerily calm and kept her playful smile on. Her eyes always filled with a glee that held desire, interest, and an odd lust. A lust that always arose with the sight of crimson blood or gleaming daggers. It was indeed an odd lust that she held. Pitiless and full of desires, she watched the two boys. One in pain, bleeding and suffering, while the other still full of the burning hate that drove him. She smiled at the thought that he, her brother, was full of such burning hate. His fist connected with the other boy's. His fist was a dull red from the continuous hitting. The spiked wristband he wore had specks of blooding trickling down each spike that had connected with the bronze skinned face of the other boy. His own skin a pale peach colour. Sweat fell from his head under his spiked, green hair. His hair still showing the blonde roots from before he dyed it. His eyes narrowed. He watched as the boy staggered upward. His own gray eyes bearing into the other's deep ocean green eyes. The other boy, bleeding and bruised terribly, staggered clumsily to his feet. His face, once clean and actually very pretty, was now covered in purple bruises and cuts oozing blood. He gasped for air, his chest heaving.
The girl's brother smirked; a small cut on his upper lip, which had now turned a slight shade of purple from the usually light pink, was the only place where the other boys hit had made contact. The rest of him was unharmed. There were only specks of blood stained on his clean, white tank top. His sleek, black leather pants gave off a shine in the scorching sunlight. His black leather jacket lay carelessly on the asphalt, having been thrown off at the beginning of the fight. He smiled wryly. "Have you learned your lesson? Now do you know better than to approach my sister, Sarah? And you better not say anything stupid punk otherwise you're going to be one sorry dead bastard." His voice was low and menacing. Almost like the snarl of an angry dog ready to lunge at its enemy's throat. The other boy coughed. He nodded his head slightly. The boy frowned. "That wasn't a reassuring gesture." He balled his fist and put it in his other hand; both of which were slowly turning a light pink and peach colour. "Yes. I'm sorry. Never again." The other boy stuttered it out, unable to communicate it in a full sentence. He glanced at the girl-Sarah-then back at the boy. He then realized it was a mistake. Sarah watched gleefully as her brother's fist connected with the boy, whom she knew as Steavan. She let out a small moan as Steavan's black curls flew back with his head as her brother's fist slammed into his nose. Small shines of crimson could be seen from him as he fell backwards and hit the ground hard. She heard the dull thud of his head as it hit the asphalt. Quietly, she cooed as her brother followed his body almost instantly, covering it and, fist after fist, attacked the boys used to be perfect face. At first, Steavan put up a faint struggle. His hands weakly clawed at the back of the other boy's sides to try and pull him off, but only encouraged stronger blows to be thrown. Soon, he stopped moving altogether, almost limp looking. Sarah loved violence, and magically encouraged her brother to move into it whenever it could be done, but having him murder someone just couldn't be tolerated. She couldn't bear to be the cause of her beloved brother going to prison. "Jake." She barely whispered. Her voice was silky and soft, that of a small child. She rose slowly and elegantly from her wooden swing and began to lightly take steps toward the two. Jake held his fists where they were and was perfectly still. Steavan, barely able to lift his eyes, saw that Jake had closed his eyes and was taking in large amount of air. Sarah gracefully walked past the yards cleanly cut grass and onto the asphalt. She gently put her hand on one of Jake's fist. The fist had red smears on it from constant contact with Steavan's bloody face. Carefully, she tugged at his arm to make him rise. Jake opened his eyes slowly and stood up. He looked down at his sister. He was much taller than her, due to age difference. He was nineteen and she was sixteen. Her icy blue eyes looked at his gray eyes for a second, and then went to his bloody hand. Steavan watched in horror as she pulled her brother's hand to her mouth. Slowly, her soft, pink tongue came out and licked the blood carefully off his hand. Jake seemed to expect this, and held it opened so she could get every spot. Jake looked down at Steavan, sending horrible glares that told him not to move. Sarah lifted her head and licked her lips. She turned to Steavan. "Do please leave now. It would be a shame for anymore of your wonderful blood to stain the asphalt. And also, if you would be so kind, do not tell anyone of this occasion. If anyone asks, you were clumsy. And fell down." Sarah's sweet, silky voice suddenly changed. The softness was gone. The gentle, innocence completely wiped from it. Instead, a severity came over her. Her eyes boar into his. As if she went straight to his soul. Steavan shuddered slightly, his body aching with every movement he made. "For if anyone happens to find out about this, I will not stop Jake next time." She clung to her brother in a disturbing way. Steavan thought about the Bible in his head as he saw the two-brother and sister-clinging to each other as if they were lovers. Sarah's arms wrapped around Jake's waist tightly, her head softly dug into his side. One of Jake's hands wrapped around her shoulders, grasping it tightly, while the other rested on her head, each finger entangled in stands of her silky brown hair. "And next time, you will be dead." The sudden severity of her voice left instantly and her sweet smile and gentleness returned. All innocence that looked lost had returned to her face, making the embrace she had with her brother have an ever more disturbed feeling. "Have a good day, Steavan Jefferies." They both-Sarah and Jake-stared at Steavan with cold eyes as he slowly got to his feet. Every part of him ached, but he eventually stood up. He took one last look at the two, and left.
Sarah let her arms drop from her brother's waist. Slowly, she walked back to the swing. Jake walked to where he had thrown his leather jacket on and picked it up. He stared at it for a second, and then slid his arms in. He turned to where Sarah was. She was still slowly walking to the swing. He knew why she was moving so slowly. The lustful moans she had let out. He knew her every move. It was odd for him to know everything, but he did. It was how he liked it though. Ever since he could remember, he had wanted to be bad. He wanted to be like the devils in his mother's thick, leather Bible. The devils and sins that were in there, he wanted to be. Rebellion for the sake of it was what he wanted. He saw Sarah turn and sit upon the swing, graceful and elegant as ever. Her eyes were closed and she went upon instinct to find her place. She knew it well. He smiled at her, how she slowly began to swing again, a smile creeping over her face, her eyes opening slightly. He began to walk to where she was. He felt the difference of the clean cut grass under his feet instead of the asphalt. He walked past the side of wooden swing, and stopped behind her. When she swung back to him, he caught her swing, as softly as he could so she wouldn't shake. Sarah closed her eyes and chuckled. "What are you doing, Jake? You know that while outside in the open, you can't do anything to me. You'll embarrass mother and father. Besides, we're family. We're blood." Jake purred. He loved it when she acted innocent. It gave her a feeling of being untouched and pure. It gave him the feeling that he could take that all away, as any and every bad boy he knew loves to do. He let one of his hands slip down over hers. He carefully bent his head down to hers. "What are you talking about dear sister? I would never do anything to you, like you said, we're blood. You hurt me." He talked slyly. Every inch of his voice was like a somber whisper. He knew what he was doing; it was like so many times before. He knew her reaction even before it happened. Sarah turned her head to him slowly; throwing back some of her hair whilst other strands covered another part of her face. She breathed in heavily. "I'm sorry. I was quick to judge your actions." Jake watched as her eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips. He showed no signs of acknowledgment to her doing this, but knew she was well aware he watched her. They both knew each other very well. Both knew and had a desire to be bad, to be dark, to be the true evil. Each had their own approach, but thought they had evil down. Instead of minor things, they went straight to the sins. So many down. Oh so many. Jake leaned his head in so he could feel his sister's breath. He felt the rabid intake and out. He squeezed her hand in his; feeling parts of the rope scratch his own skin. He tightened his grip. Sarah shivered as she felt the rope cut into her skin. She felt the blood begin to trickle out. She could take it no more. She lunged at his face with hers, ignoring all the polite gestures and words. She felt the heat he had and his tongue swirling in her mouth; her own tongue deep within his. Jake's other hand traced down Sarah's face, past her breasts, and to her stomach. He squeezed it tightly, causing Sarah's head to fall and her to take a deep breath. Her other hand went to his and covered it. She looked back at him, her eyes filled with desire and a sense of wickedness. Jake returned the look, feeling dominant; as he did with all the girls he had. But he also felt a passion like no other. It was his sister after all, and he was her brother.
Sarah moved her head back up, thrusting her tongue deep into Jake's mouth without hesitation. She knew what she was doing. All her life she waited for moments like these. Moments where the sweet, gentle face she could have would hide away, allowing what she wanted out. Her hand on her brother's gently held it and pulled it upwards. She felt a wave of heat go down her body when she brought it up to her breast. She could feel his heat more and more. She loved this. Loved having such contact with him. She knew it could only get better. She remembered suddenly the tongue in his mouth when he stuck his tongue deep into her mouth, pressing his face extremely hard against hers. She had gotten lost in her thought. Jake knew she would. She always did. Then, she would forget the hand that he had on her breast. He would make her remember. The would both walk up to the crimson door and walk inside. That's always how it happened. He was right. The hand she had on his weakened. He gave a squeeze to her tender, soft breast and she pulled her head back. She looked at him, her icy eyes bearing into his own cold, gray eyes. They looked at each other coldly, no trace of love or passion left. Sarah slowly stood up, taking her hand off of Jake's. She walked to his side, pulling her other hand out from under his. She walked upon the gravel; felt it crush and give way beneath her feet. Jake turned and followed. They walked up the limestone steps onto the porch. Sarah slid her hand between the golden handle and opened the door. Jake had closed his eyes, expecting his sister to walk right through the door. He was surprised when he walked straight into her. "Sarah, why have you stopped?" He began to slowly open his eyes, agitated that she would stop when they had just gotten started. He looked past her and was terrified to see a cat-like man standing in his house. He felt his mouth hang open slightly, as he searched the figure with his eyes. Sarah's eyes went wide for a second as she saw the man. He wore a burgundy suit and black tie. A white undershirt was barely visible under the tie and suit. A thin black choker was round his neck and a tiny, silver bell was attached to it. He had light, sandy brown hair that went a bit past the end of the choker. Two larger ears stuck out from bits of hair. They were not rounded at all and, instead, were pointed. On his left ear were three rings at the top, and one large one at the bottom. His left ear was slightly cut off; by the looks of it, by teeth. He wore black spectacles with purple tinted lenses, that seemed to be clip-ons. He smiled softly, two white fangs extended out from his lips. His eyes were closed and had strands of hair covering them slightly. On top of his head, was a tall, black and gray striped hat. Suddenly, after a few moments of silence, his eyes flashed opened, making both Sarah and Jake flinch slightly. He grinned; his yellow- orange eyes mocking them. "Why hello dear children. I'm very glad you have finally decided to come in for you see, I've been waiting for you." He stood up and took a step closer to them, then, as if he had done it intentionally, stopped and put one hand over his face and chuckled. "My, my. Almost stated business without a proper introduction!" He took his hand down and grinned maliciously. "I am Chester C., otherwise known as, the cat in the hat."
A girl sat on a homemade wooden swing. The swing was made of a thick wooden plank; neatly stained to a redwood colour. Thick ropes attached the wooden plank to a large redwood tree. The redwood stood magnificently in front of a Victorian style house from the eighteen thirties. Tall white columns stood holding a low balcony with hand-carved, ebony rails. Several windows with black shutters were scattered across the whole face of the house. A large, crimson door with a shimmering gold handle stood between the tall white columns. A porch of limestone was where the door and columns stood. The porch had two ebony chairs that matched the railing of the balcony above. Three limestone stairs connected the gravel walkway to the porch. The gat sat, looking in the opposite direction of her home. The girl wore a long dress as she sat and slowly swung. The girl's old style Victorian, white frill dress swayed as she gracefully rocked back and forth on the wooden swing. Her sleek brown hair though held back with a medium sized pink bow, slowly moved with the rest of her thin, teenage body as it rocked. Her feet, which were in shining black dress shoes, danced slowly across the earth as if she steadied the swing incase she was in need to move quickly. Her neck had a thin white choker wrapped around it; barely visible because of her head. Her head was somewhat tilted, but stayed in its spot as the rest of her body rocked in the movement of the swing. She was smiling softly; her lips painted a faint shade of pink, at two boys. Her icy blue eyes looked upon them with glee; a playful desire that urged her to keep her eyes focused. Small, soft giggles emitted from her mouth every now and then as she kept her eyes on the boys with interest. It had always interested her to see this. See violence that is. She never had any pity for whoever it was being caused harm. Throughout her life, when hearing of war, death, and other casualties, she remained eerily calm and kept her playful smile on. Her eyes always filled with a glee that held desire, interest, and an odd lust. A lust that always arose with the sight of crimson blood or gleaming daggers. It was indeed an odd lust that she held. Pitiless and full of desires, she watched the two boys. One in pain, bleeding and suffering, while the other still full of the burning hate that drove him. She smiled at the thought that he, her brother, was full of such burning hate. His fist connected with the other boy's. His fist was a dull red from the continuous hitting. The spiked wristband he wore had specks of blooding trickling down each spike that had connected with the bronze skinned face of the other boy. His own skin a pale peach colour. Sweat fell from his head under his spiked, green hair. His hair still showing the blonde roots from before he dyed it. His eyes narrowed. He watched as the boy staggered upward. His own gray eyes bearing into the other's deep ocean green eyes. The other boy, bleeding and bruised terribly, staggered clumsily to his feet. His face, once clean and actually very pretty, was now covered in purple bruises and cuts oozing blood. He gasped for air, his chest heaving.
The girl's brother smirked; a small cut on his upper lip, which had now turned a slight shade of purple from the usually light pink, was the only place where the other boys hit had made contact. The rest of him was unharmed. There were only specks of blood stained on his clean, white tank top. His sleek, black leather pants gave off a shine in the scorching sunlight. His black leather jacket lay carelessly on the asphalt, having been thrown off at the beginning of the fight. He smiled wryly. "Have you learned your lesson? Now do you know better than to approach my sister, Sarah? And you better not say anything stupid punk otherwise you're going to be one sorry dead bastard." His voice was low and menacing. Almost like the snarl of an angry dog ready to lunge at its enemy's throat. The other boy coughed. He nodded his head slightly. The boy frowned. "That wasn't a reassuring gesture." He balled his fist and put it in his other hand; both of which were slowly turning a light pink and peach colour. "Yes. I'm sorry. Never again." The other boy stuttered it out, unable to communicate it in a full sentence. He glanced at the girl-Sarah-then back at the boy. He then realized it was a mistake. Sarah watched gleefully as her brother's fist connected with the boy, whom she knew as Steavan. She let out a small moan as Steavan's black curls flew back with his head as her brother's fist slammed into his nose. Small shines of crimson could be seen from him as he fell backwards and hit the ground hard. She heard the dull thud of his head as it hit the asphalt. Quietly, she cooed as her brother followed his body almost instantly, covering it and, fist after fist, attacked the boys used to be perfect face. At first, Steavan put up a faint struggle. His hands weakly clawed at the back of the other boy's sides to try and pull him off, but only encouraged stronger blows to be thrown. Soon, he stopped moving altogether, almost limp looking. Sarah loved violence, and magically encouraged her brother to move into it whenever it could be done, but having him murder someone just couldn't be tolerated. She couldn't bear to be the cause of her beloved brother going to prison. "Jake." She barely whispered. Her voice was silky and soft, that of a small child. She rose slowly and elegantly from her wooden swing and began to lightly take steps toward the two. Jake held his fists where they were and was perfectly still. Steavan, barely able to lift his eyes, saw that Jake had closed his eyes and was taking in large amount of air. Sarah gracefully walked past the yards cleanly cut grass and onto the asphalt. She gently put her hand on one of Jake's fist. The fist had red smears on it from constant contact with Steavan's bloody face. Carefully, she tugged at his arm to make him rise. Jake opened his eyes slowly and stood up. He looked down at his sister. He was much taller than her, due to age difference. He was nineteen and she was sixteen. Her icy blue eyes looked at his gray eyes for a second, and then went to his bloody hand. Steavan watched in horror as she pulled her brother's hand to her mouth. Slowly, her soft, pink tongue came out and licked the blood carefully off his hand. Jake seemed to expect this, and held it opened so she could get every spot. Jake looked down at Steavan, sending horrible glares that told him not to move. Sarah lifted her head and licked her lips. She turned to Steavan. "Do please leave now. It would be a shame for anymore of your wonderful blood to stain the asphalt. And also, if you would be so kind, do not tell anyone of this occasion. If anyone asks, you were clumsy. And fell down." Sarah's sweet, silky voice suddenly changed. The softness was gone. The gentle, innocence completely wiped from it. Instead, a severity came over her. Her eyes boar into his. As if she went straight to his soul. Steavan shuddered slightly, his body aching with every movement he made. "For if anyone happens to find out about this, I will not stop Jake next time." She clung to her brother in a disturbing way. Steavan thought about the Bible in his head as he saw the two-brother and sister-clinging to each other as if they were lovers. Sarah's arms wrapped around Jake's waist tightly, her head softly dug into his side. One of Jake's hands wrapped around her shoulders, grasping it tightly, while the other rested on her head, each finger entangled in stands of her silky brown hair. "And next time, you will be dead." The sudden severity of her voice left instantly and her sweet smile and gentleness returned. All innocence that looked lost had returned to her face, making the embrace she had with her brother have an ever more disturbed feeling. "Have a good day, Steavan Jefferies." They both-Sarah and Jake-stared at Steavan with cold eyes as he slowly got to his feet. Every part of him ached, but he eventually stood up. He took one last look at the two, and left.
Sarah let her arms drop from her brother's waist. Slowly, she walked back to the swing. Jake walked to where he had thrown his leather jacket on and picked it up. He stared at it for a second, and then slid his arms in. He turned to where Sarah was. She was still slowly walking to the swing. He knew why she was moving so slowly. The lustful moans she had let out. He knew her every move. It was odd for him to know everything, but he did. It was how he liked it though. Ever since he could remember, he had wanted to be bad. He wanted to be like the devils in his mother's thick, leather Bible. The devils and sins that were in there, he wanted to be. Rebellion for the sake of it was what he wanted. He saw Sarah turn and sit upon the swing, graceful and elegant as ever. Her eyes were closed and she went upon instinct to find her place. She knew it well. He smiled at her, how she slowly began to swing again, a smile creeping over her face, her eyes opening slightly. He began to walk to where she was. He felt the difference of the clean cut grass under his feet instead of the asphalt. He walked past the side of wooden swing, and stopped behind her. When she swung back to him, he caught her swing, as softly as he could so she wouldn't shake. Sarah closed her eyes and chuckled. "What are you doing, Jake? You know that while outside in the open, you can't do anything to me. You'll embarrass mother and father. Besides, we're family. We're blood." Jake purred. He loved it when she acted innocent. It gave her a feeling of being untouched and pure. It gave him the feeling that he could take that all away, as any and every bad boy he knew loves to do. He let one of his hands slip down over hers. He carefully bent his head down to hers. "What are you talking about dear sister? I would never do anything to you, like you said, we're blood. You hurt me." He talked slyly. Every inch of his voice was like a somber whisper. He knew what he was doing; it was like so many times before. He knew her reaction even before it happened. Sarah turned her head to him slowly; throwing back some of her hair whilst other strands covered another part of her face. She breathed in heavily. "I'm sorry. I was quick to judge your actions." Jake watched as her eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips. He showed no signs of acknowledgment to her doing this, but knew she was well aware he watched her. They both knew each other very well. Both knew and had a desire to be bad, to be dark, to be the true evil. Each had their own approach, but thought they had evil down. Instead of minor things, they went straight to the sins. So many down. Oh so many. Jake leaned his head in so he could feel his sister's breath. He felt the rabid intake and out. He squeezed her hand in his; feeling parts of the rope scratch his own skin. He tightened his grip. Sarah shivered as she felt the rope cut into her skin. She felt the blood begin to trickle out. She could take it no more. She lunged at his face with hers, ignoring all the polite gestures and words. She felt the heat he had and his tongue swirling in her mouth; her own tongue deep within his. Jake's other hand traced down Sarah's face, past her breasts, and to her stomach. He squeezed it tightly, causing Sarah's head to fall and her to take a deep breath. Her other hand went to his and covered it. She looked back at him, her eyes filled with desire and a sense of wickedness. Jake returned the look, feeling dominant; as he did with all the girls he had. But he also felt a passion like no other. It was his sister after all, and he was her brother.
Sarah moved her head back up, thrusting her tongue deep into Jake's mouth without hesitation. She knew what she was doing. All her life she waited for moments like these. Moments where the sweet, gentle face she could have would hide away, allowing what she wanted out. Her hand on her brother's gently held it and pulled it upwards. She felt a wave of heat go down her body when she brought it up to her breast. She could feel his heat more and more. She loved this. Loved having such contact with him. She knew it could only get better. She remembered suddenly the tongue in his mouth when he stuck his tongue deep into her mouth, pressing his face extremely hard against hers. She had gotten lost in her thought. Jake knew she would. She always did. Then, she would forget the hand that he had on her breast. He would make her remember. The would both walk up to the crimson door and walk inside. That's always how it happened. He was right. The hand she had on his weakened. He gave a squeeze to her tender, soft breast and she pulled her head back. She looked at him, her icy eyes bearing into his own cold, gray eyes. They looked at each other coldly, no trace of love or passion left. Sarah slowly stood up, taking her hand off of Jake's. She walked to his side, pulling her other hand out from under his. She walked upon the gravel; felt it crush and give way beneath her feet. Jake turned and followed. They walked up the limestone steps onto the porch. Sarah slid her hand between the golden handle and opened the door. Jake had closed his eyes, expecting his sister to walk right through the door. He was surprised when he walked straight into her. "Sarah, why have you stopped?" He began to slowly open his eyes, agitated that she would stop when they had just gotten started. He looked past her and was terrified to see a cat-like man standing in his house. He felt his mouth hang open slightly, as he searched the figure with his eyes. Sarah's eyes went wide for a second as she saw the man. He wore a burgundy suit and black tie. A white undershirt was barely visible under the tie and suit. A thin black choker was round his neck and a tiny, silver bell was attached to it. He had light, sandy brown hair that went a bit past the end of the choker. Two larger ears stuck out from bits of hair. They were not rounded at all and, instead, were pointed. On his left ear were three rings at the top, and one large one at the bottom. His left ear was slightly cut off; by the looks of it, by teeth. He wore black spectacles with purple tinted lenses, that seemed to be clip-ons. He smiled softly, two white fangs extended out from his lips. His eyes were closed and had strands of hair covering them slightly. On top of his head, was a tall, black and gray striped hat. Suddenly, after a few moments of silence, his eyes flashed opened, making both Sarah and Jake flinch slightly. He grinned; his yellow- orange eyes mocking them. "Why hello dear children. I'm very glad you have finally decided to come in for you see, I've been waiting for you." He stood up and took a step closer to them, then, as if he had done it intentionally, stopped and put one hand over his face and chuckled. "My, my. Almost stated business without a proper introduction!" He took his hand down and grinned maliciously. "I am Chester C., otherwise known as, the cat in the hat."