Fire Child (Watty Awards!!)

Chapter 2

I'll paint you a mental picture here. Me sitting between two giant oak trees (that will without a doubt burn later), my mom 'fake' screaming her head off and Matt walking around the burning home. He had been following my mom and frantically looking for me. I'm watching the house burn and just admiring the view (wink*wink). I bet you can see that one.  

I stretch, bending over backwards and basically sticking my boobs in the air. Matt wanders over. I twist my body making sure that I won't walk with a gimp in a few minutes. That would be more akward that sticking my boobs in the air around a Greek God.  

A furious fire burned in my mind. Everything started to buzz. That means a message. You know, it isn't even close to easy being a spokesperson for Hell. I would gladly trade places with you, you mundane human. My heart started pounding when I imagined what kind of thing I must have to do now.  

I know what you are thinking. Why not quit? Well the real reason would probably that your soul is hand chosen and doomed to Hell without your consent. No quitting is possible.  

The message was fuzzy at first, then clearer and clearer. Finally a beacon was clear. I was meant to visit. That was never a good sign. Maybe we will discuss tactics or something to that extint, but somewhere something told me a devious trick was working itself into my thoughts.  

I totally support our antics. My mind was the same clock. Wound and wound until I was a creature of the dark side. But I am really afraid of the torture devices that they keep there. I won't even try to describe the ways. I can save you some nightmares.  

I may have to visit Hell but that doesn't ever mean I my person visits. I have a substitute soul. Someone has studied my behavior for a while now and they take over my body for a while while my soul drops the 1,400 floors (or so) to the center of Hell. Obviously it isn't really 1,400 floors but if you'll notice heaven is a little farther than that too. The numbers are made up. Straight from my mind, they come. I am the only Hell spokesperson so I don't have any nerds to measure it for me.

* * * 

So, maybe I was overly anxious for my below ground haven. I was summoned for security reasons. For some odd ball reason they think that I (me!) have security issues. They say I tell all my friends everything. Woah! Hold the phone! You can't count my friends that I share anything with. My human mother knows and I know and some of my siblings know. But that is it. Not even my dad knows. CRAZY!  I don't even have any close friends anymore.

I overreact to everything have I mentioned that yet? Of course not.  

So I will.  

My name is Kat. I am 17. I have anger issues. I have a massive crush on Matt Nedly. And I overreact to everything.

******

The next night I awoke in a cold sweat. I was worried. There was no doubt about it. I was in heaven. A living hell for a demon. Maybe their wings would suffocate me with the goodness surrounding them. My world was different. Red was our color. Red, black, death covered the floor. Heaven was a different story. Blue, white, everlasting life, and good shattered my illusions. I used to be happy. Determined I was, to go back to the happiness.

My mother, none other, awoke me from the terrible dream. She was the image of good. Elbows off the table, yes ma'am, and all that chizniz.

Manners an etiquettes was my one lacking subject. I was the "perfect child" all "A's", president of our class. You know the whole ordeal. I didn't want any of it. But, in order to be smart enough and well known enough to take over the world you must have a good education and a well known face. Publicity issues you know.

I was so naughty. Bad girl, bad. Sometimes, in class I had to worry about my horns. I was almost like some of those terrible stories about the morphers. They change form. I just am such a naughty kid sometimes that you can see it on the sides of my head popping out. Deep red, they were, gorgeous when fully extended. They were almost a mahogany color. Beautiful, or so I thought.

Sometimes I wonder if Matt was a demon what color horns he would have. Maybe black. Man, hott demons always have the black horns. Glossy and s*xy.

I haven't ever seen anyone with mahogany horns before. I am all original.

I can just picture him now. His soul harnessed a drawn to the deepest pits of Hell, him gaining his evil side, and his beautiful glossy horns.

vote & comment please

~~emmikat