The Art of Imagination

Chapter 2

“My apologies for scaring you, Miss.” He turned his head and his fathomless black eyes caused Ingrid to inhale sharply. “Just wanted to make sure a pretty lady didn’t fall to her death.” His dark eyes flashed dangerously, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards. The temperature suddenly dropped, chilling her to the bone.

Ingrid took another step back and fought the urge to do the opposite. Something about him made her skin crawl, urging her to get away from him, even if she had to jump off the bridge –

Gasping, she twisted away and squeezed her eyes shut. Be careful, Ingrid. He’s Tainted!

Only in books and stories had she heard of these nightmarish fiends; their imaginations were corrupt with deadly temptations and sin. All they desired was to corrupt a victim, to feed and sap the purity of imagination. Nothing was more deadly to imagination than a Tainted – and yet, here she was, face to face with one.

Stay strong, Ingrid, she urged herself internally. Get away from him!

This man should have been at war; he was fit and healthy. But the fact that he wasn’t but rather here with her, trying to lure her into darkness made him no ordinary rascal that wanted to take advantage of her. He wanted to Taint her, to corrupt her and the very idea was enough to send shivers down her spine.

But what was she doing standing still? Abruptly, Ingrid snapped her eyes open. She almost screamed as a pair of empty black eyes stared back at her, dangerously close. She could hear his every breath, cold and calculating as it tickled her nose.

A wall, she urged desperately, stumbling backwards. The man leaned forward in pursuit, a carnal smile on his lips. Stop it. Ingrid imagined an invisible resistance, just as she had tried on her father at his departure.

He moved forward again but his gaze was broken when he found himself unable to advance further. In a split second, Ingrid felt the prickling vanish from her skin but it was back again as the man laughed coldly.

“What a weak imagination,” he sneered, lifting a hand and flicked at the air before him, like he was swatting a fly.

Ingrid gasped as her focus fell away with the wall, breaking as if it were made of feathers. She had never encountered a person who could challenge her imagination, let alone have one at all. Tendrils of darkness, the delicious temptation licking at her skin erected fleshy bumps all across her body. It begged to her, convincing her that it would all stop if she gave in. And she almost did.

Painful thoughts of her father sliced its way through her thoughts, breaking the trance. Ingrid blinked several times before grasping wisps of control over her willpower again.

“The train is coming, Miss,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving as the machine drew closer. “Take the plunge.”

All traces of her self-control suddenly dissolved into slithers of air, the Tainted man’s cold, invisible grip enveloping her again, taunting and tempting her. With a cry of surprise, Ingrid’s hands threw themselves onto the rail and her shoes found the first step. “Why are you doing this?”

“If I can’t Taint you, I have no use for you.”

“No, please!” Tears sprang to her eyes and the basket slid down her arm, dangling off her wrist. Her legs climbed higher, fighting the dress’s resistance until she stood atop of the thin rail, toes teetering over the edge. She was unbalanced enough as it was.

The train whistled loudly as it came into view. The black fumes were blooming into the air so close, she could almost taste the burning coal on her tongue –