Once upon a time, in a kingdom of an otherworldly realm, there was a lovely demon princess who was isolated from the rest of her magical world, which was full of much evil too. Just like our plane of existence. Upon her twelfth birthday, she wished to venture outside her kingdom and explore, and the King couldn't ignore the lovely princess’s request. This was especially because she agreed to play in the world of the humans, which was known to have lesser evil than their own.
So he let her go, but not before setting up a curfew that would bring dire consequences if not followed: she was to return by sunset, otherwise her memories would be erased and she’d be banished from her kingdom. He did not want her gathering the courage to run away forever and chase her silly dreams of being a royal explorer; so setting this curse so as not to make his warning a wrongful lie would hopefully scare her into behaving. He did not think in the slightest that she would disobey him and doubt his words.
The princess had so much fun outside the palace and away from home, interacting with the wonders of nature, that she completely forgot this condition. Come sunset, she wasn't allowed entry back into the kingdom and she lost all memory of who she was, what she was doing, and her past. She stumbled through the woods in a daze for longer than she should have, confused, lost, and lonely, before collapsing with her exhaustion and hunger. She awoke in a cabin, where a handsome human boy had nursed her back to great health.
The two became good friends, then eventually lovers. When they came of age, he asked for her hand in marriage, and once she accepted, the former demon princess and the kind-hearted human boy became a lawfully wedded couple during a private ceremony; for they wanted no outsiders to gossip of the girl’s visual peculiarities. But as time passed, and life seemed perfect, the former princess mysteriously received a lavished letter telling her of her father’s deathly ailment. The memories were returned to her, and it was her priority to visit the kingdom once more and leave behind her husband.
Arguments ensued, tears were shed and hearts broken. The beautiful young demoness wouldn't let him know of her heritage or anything of her past, and she left him behind with a swollen belly where their infant grew. The young princess was soon turned into the rightful queen of her kingdom, once the King died. Not long after, her daughter, Priscilla, was born, and ten years later, an unexpected visitor arrived using the mystical power needed within a jeweled amulet.
The husband, having fortunately acquainted himself with someone who knew of the demon realm and how to get there, had came after a long road of hardships to win back his love. The Queen couldn't just leave so abruptly and irresponsibly, as much as she wanted him to sweep her off her feet and away from her duties she knew she couldn't just abandon her post. So, after some time of bonding and catching up, she sent little Priscilla with him to ‘ground,’ what they called the human world. Her husband couldn't stay for long, as it was strictly prohibited by law.
The Queen sent a royal, mystical carriage to deliver her family to the human world. But that would soon prove to be a fatal mistake.
~~~~~~
“Do you like it?” His voice was deep but soft spoken, allowing the ten-year-old to picture a friendly lion inside her head. His hand was big and strong, but it held hers gently and with care. It almost felt like real, actual warmth radiated from his perfectly-curved smile that always sprouted blossoms of joy inside her belly when shined down on her.
Princess Priscilla stood in the doorway of a log cabin next to her father, Terrence Phillips, who held her luggage in his right hand. The carriage had long since departed, and the cozy hand-built structure was surrounded on all sides by the serene forest. The sky was a pale azure, wispy thin clouds too timid and rare to band together and blot out the blinding orb of fire far above. Sunlight cascaded down through thick green foliages like beacons of Heaven itself, small creatures skittered up tree trunks and through bushes. There was a narrow dirt trail that lead up to the four front steps, bathed with cool shade provided by the dense thicket, serving as protection from the summer heat. Birds fluttered from branch to branch, snakes slithered unseen along the ground, and woodpeckers noisily drilled away as squirrels scampered about with acorns in their maws.
Priscilla nodded, humming out a ‘mhm.’ The cabin was an island of civilization in the midst of mother nature’s sea. Secluded from the bustling villages. It wasn't magnificent in a regal fashion, like her grand palace back home, but it was beautiful in its own way. Cozy and roomy. Windows glowing with the glare of sunshine, framed with wood, the glass slightly dusty, and insects residing on the sill. A brick chimney puffing out smoke, like one big squared cigar, force-feeding the crisp afternoon air with the acrid-smelling ash-gray columns. The outside appearance of the house promised an ambience that would make you feel as though someone wrapped your heart up in a blanket and gave it a kiss. It kept its promise.
The interior reminded her of the woodland-located homes in fairy tales she's seen, with a fireplace and hearth, rugs gracing the floor decoratively, recliners and rocking chairs, and a small table in the center where a mug of what could be tea or cider and a half-eaten buttered biscuit sat forgotten. Terrance chuckled a “I’m glad you think so” before hustling in and standing in the middle of the room, setting her chest of belongings on the floor and gesturing all around him.
“This will be your home for awhile.” He said, the white of his button-up shirt tinted orange with the glow of the fire. “So you can make yourself as comfortable as you want.”
He flashed an adorable, lopsided grin.
Priscilla walked in, and gently shut the door behind her without laying a finger on it. “It's too hot in here.” She muttered shyly. “May I?” Her gaze was focused on the fireplace, where the small orange and yellow blaze burned away. It was already summer there, and it was daytime, so there was no need for extra warmth or light.
“Of course.” Terrence chirped in response, a grin splitting his cheeks. “Do whatever you’d like.” He brushed a few locks to his shock-white bangs from his face, blue eyes that reflected the depths of an ocean glimmering at his only child. She looked so much like his Scarlett, except her hair wasn't as red, but a mixture of both crimson and hot pink due to his natural bleached hair. It was cut short, hanging in thin strands at her chin, but haloing her snow-white skin beautifully. Her violet eyes were of a lighter color than her mother’s, exuberant and reflective like polished gems. Her dress was black, lined with a golden trim and hiding white frills behind the mostly-onyx skirt. Her sleek choker matched, boasting a pink gem that hung from it just below her collarbone.
Priscilla quickly and easily commanded the fire to put itself out in the blink of an eye with just an unrelenting stare and the use of her imagination. Just like her tutors taught her. It snuffed out with a quiet whoosh and a wisp of dispersing smoke. Terrence applauded the simple act as if he were demanding an encore from a performer.
“It’s not that impressive.” Priscilla deadpanned, standing stock still and glancing down, growing adorably apple-cheeked.
“I doubt there's anything you can do that won't amaze me.” Terrence replied affectionately, dimples forming in his cheeks. It must hurt to smile so much. He barely knew her but already acted as if he raised her all this time. Was it really that easy to love someone?
Nonetheless, Priscilla felt a little playful. Possibly due to her giddiness at seeing him so astounded by her inherited ‘strength,’ as her family called it, that could be learned at age five. “What if I…” Priscilla trailed off, looking around and noticing a few small details for the first time, like a stairwell in the corner, mounted animal heads, and firearms. “What if I sat down?” She plopped down in a worn armchair draped with handmade quilts.
Terrence reared back with a mock gasp of awe, his eyes dramatically growing big. He could never hide his grin as he bowed down to her, kneeling before the young demoness and lowering his head with one arm held behind his back and his other hand flattened against his broad chest. “Quite marvelous if I do say so myself, princess!” He crowed, imitating the lilt of a gentleman.
“What if I….?” Priscilla jokingly challenged, a ghost of a smile on her pink lips as she rolled her eyes in thought and lightly kicked her booted feet. “What if I danced?” She thrust her lithe frame from her seat and spun around the room like a hyperactive ballerina, quite uncharacteristically. Her skirt fanned out as it twirled around her legs, her short hair papped her chipmunk cheeks.
“Magnificent! Just magnificent!” Terrence cheered, leaping into their makeshift dance floor after her, grabbing her waist, and spinning her himself while also rotating as if he were in the middle of a waltz. She couldn't help the giggles that bubbled up in her and burst out, popping the peaceful stillness that had hung over the sitting room of the cabin. Floorboards creaked underneath her father’s thick boots. Eventually, he planted the little girl back on her feet and laughed as she staggered dizzily for a moment.
“What if I,” Priscilla drawled with a more serious tone, “did this?” Her smile was tiny but prideful as flames suddenly burst in between them. Terrence recoiled in shock at the cerulean ball of fire that crackled and flared in mid air. It wasn't a normal blue fire, with a white-ish center. It was unnaturally blue, lighter on the inside, the deep colors of a sea swirling through it.
“Amazing.” Terrence breathed. “Your species is truly magnificent.” The man had seen such magic performed before, unbeknownst to her, but it never failed to fascinate him. In that instant, Priscilla felt more special than ever before.
~~~~~~~~~
“We’re going to have such bountiful meals during your visit here, Prilla. To fatten you up a bit.” Terrence heartily chuckled in between melodic hums that expressed his feminine side, dressed in a cleaner attire that matched the day before’s. His pearl white bangs were pulled back from his forehead with hair clips. A woven basket, the rim adorned with flowers, dangled from his arm by the handle which hung from the crook of his elbow.
“‘Prilla’?” Priscilla questioned, tearing her curious puppy-eyed gaze from the passersby in the shopping district they strolled through. She'd never been given a nickname before, she was always called by her real name. She lifted a pale hand to her head and brushed at the short locks that swept over her forehead, wiping away sweat. She wasn't accustomed to this weather. Even under the marquee of a vendor’s booth, she couldn't escape the sun’s relentless assault on her flesh. It was surely trying to roast her alive.
“Yup.” Terrence replied without a care in the world as he lead her by the hand to a fruit stand, ignoring the sticky sweat that tried to glue their palms together. “I swear, I was up all night trying to decide on the nicknames I could give you. There was ‘Cilla,’ ‘Prissy,’ which sounded more like an insult honestly haha, ‘Prilly,’ ‘Priscilly,’ and ‘Cilly.’” He exhaled a long breath, swiping the glittering beads of perspiration from his brow.
“Well, your judgement’s good at least.” Priscilla complimented with a smile at the silliness of some of those nicknames. “Prilla sounds better than all of those combined.” She watched a band of children, dressed in handmade clothes with dirt stains and loose threads, run past her and fill the humid air with their joyous laughter. A dog bounded after them full speed, barking as if calling to them that he wanted to join in on the fun. For a moment, she longed to play with them, but a trickle of sweat streaking down her damp back reminded her of what consequences it would bring in such temperatures.
Unbeknownst to them both, many people stopped in their tracks to scrutinize the girl like she was a science experiment. Especially the young children that noticed her. Those who caught sight of her alabaster-white skin and unusually-colored hair and eyes rushed to whisper about it to strangers or friends nearby. They all stared after her, but didn't approach. The father and his daughter were too caught up in their spirits to realize it.
They reached the fruit stand, and sweet sweet shade fell over them thanks to the dark green roof that pointed towards the near-cloudless sky like a pitched tent. It was more like a collection of fruit stands, with a clerk standing at a desk at the side where customers could purchase the delicious wares. There were mostly women out grocery shopping, in there were at least three, minding their own business as they browsed for a worthy selection from the rainbows of exotic edibles. Priscilla wanted to engage in conversation with them, since they seemed the motherly type, but she just didn't know what to say.
“Okay, this is the last stop in our little shopping trip. Go choose whatever catches your beautiful eye, princess.” Terrence happily encouraged his only daughter with a gentle nudge to her side. They had already gotten salted meats, bread and grains, vegetables, other ingredients for things like spices and seasonings. All the stuff that would promise a hearty breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Oh, really?” Priscilla gasped, more out of pleasure than anything else. She hadn't tasted many human delicacies before, and so many of the fruits looked tastier than any she's ever seen. She could only imagine the different textures and flavors of their flesh.
“Anything for my little girl.” Terrence’s hand abruptly clamped down on her small head, startling her. In a matter of seconds, it was twisting and turning this way and that. Swishing her pink locks and splaying them all over the place. She was both baffled and pleased by this gesture. It felt both foreign and natural, and created warm feelings in her tummy. Terrence smiled at her and struck a conversation with the teenaged clerk, who seemed more than happy with the distraction from his boredom. His mother or father probably owned the shop, and was out on break or an errand.
However, those warm feelings soon dissipated as she was admiring the different colors, shapes, and sizes of the fruits. There were murmurs of the women around her as she picked up an oval fruit that was swirled with red, yellow, and a smidgen of green. Priscilla looked up, and saw that they were huddled together, in their awfully plain dresses, and staring at her with strange expressions. One was short and stout like a tea pot, flaps of flab jiggling on her arms and greasy black hair pulled painfully tight into a bun. To her left, was a tall lithe lady with platinum blonde hair that fell in pretty waves down her shoulders. To her right, was a woman with a bob of chocolate brown hair, crow’s feet and wrinkles aplenty on her face.
“Hello, misses.” Priscilla greeted politely, offering a tiny nod. “Quite the hot day, isn't it? It's Hell’s weather out here!” She prided herself in not only being trained in the art of magic, but with charm in talking to strangers so she would be guaranteed a great first impression. But in all honesty, although she was taught proper manners, she wasn't taught things to say in situations like this, she just copied what she heard from others’ discussions.
The faces of the women twisted further, into what was unmistakably bewilderment and mistrust, as if they didn't know what to make of her. The fat one spoke first, in a snooty tone that bothered the young demoness, “Child! You look like a walking corpse! Why is your skin whiter than snow itself?” The other two nodded, looking her up and down with unmasked disgust.
Priscilla’s cheeks grew hotter than before as her lip wobbled. She refused to make herself look timid and humiliated in the face of judgement, so she tilted her chin up rather than slumping and averting her gaze. “I was born this way. Just as you were born with your fair complexion and hair blacker than night itself.”
“Her hair! It is...pink! Of all things!” The blonde woman squawked in a grating, shrill voice. “Unnatural if you ask me! You have no right to be going on about anyone else’s hair!” She placed a slender hand over where her heart would be, as if she were about to dramatically faint.
“I wasn't going on about it,” Priscilla began indignantly, “I was simply pointing out-”
“Your EYES-!” The last woman, the brunette, wailed in what could only be described as horror. It immediately attracted the attention of her father, the clerk, and even citizens walking past. Everyone within earshot listened as she continued with a finger pointed at the girl. “They're purple! Purple! What a ghastly thing you are! And how bold you are too, to talk back so rebelliously against your elders!”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Terrence butted in, teeth clenched together and eyebrows knitted close over blue eyes that shone with the fury that bubbled in him like boiling water. How dare they insult his child, those wretched wenches? He stalked towards them and growled, “leave my little girl alone, and treat her with the respect she deserves. C’mon, sweetheart, let's go.” He took her hand.
Priscilla, eyes filling with tears at the sight of people gawking at the spectacle without saying a word in her defense, yanked her hand away. Terrence swiveled to her in shock as she glared defiantly at the three women. “How dare you speak to me that way?!” She ranted, spittle flying out her mouth in the most unladylike manner. “I am royalty, can't you recognize a princess when you see one?” All rational thought of this being a different world with different culture went out the window, so all she could think about was how obvious it was due to her reddish hair and purple eyes.
“A princess?” The fat woman spluttered, rearing her head back.
Priscilla resumed, “I thought you humans were friendly people! After all, your world is more peaceful than mine!” It was her turn to jab her finger in their direction. That's when the confused mutterings of the crowd fired up, growing in intensity as they examined her ‘peculiarities’ over and over, with more hatred and fear each time. That's when Terrance hurriedly snatched her hand back into his and began rushing away from the scene. That's when she began to realize she may have made a mistake.
“She called us humans!” The woman with the wheat-colored hair hysterically shouted to the crowd.
“Are you saying you're not human yourself, child?!” The brunette called out. Priscilla watched the faces spin to glare at them as her and her dad hastily weaved through the throngs of onlookers.
“Oh my lord!”
“I've never seen anything like her!”
“She looks like a spectre.”
“Like something unholy.”
“What is she?!”
“She's a witch, that's what she is!” The tubby woman hollered, looking into the frightful eyes of the crowd as the forms of Priscilla and Terrance vanished from view. “There may be children of color, but when there's children without color, the line between normal and abnormal has been crossed!”
“That little girl isn't a witch.” A pretty, dainty young lady emerged from in between a blacksmith and a seamstress. Her hair was like pure gold spun into silk strands, streams of sunshine spilling across the bosom just barely supported by the cups of her tight corset. Her blue skirt almost covered her small, slippered feet, her eyes amber like the richest honey. Her face was like an angel’s, promising harmony in her presence as she held a two-year-old baby girl against her hip. The two-year-old was a spitting image of her mother, her hair tied into stumpy pigtails and decorated with a lilac flower. Her face pink and plump.
“Oh?” The fat woman raised an eyebrow bushier than a raccoon's tail and placed her pudgy fists on her wide hips.
“She is obviously the Antichrist. Silly.” The beautiful maiden declared boldly but bubbly, an innocent giggle escaping her full pink lips at the ignorance of these people. “She is an unholy abomination, birthed of evil, that needs to be purged from this earth by the hands of God. She is the Devil’s creation, sent to curse us all.”
Gasps and even more collective hums of babbling mixed together in an incoherent mess were produced by the crowd. “How would you know?” A skeptical little peasant boy, a young apprentice to the blacksmith, asked with his eyes squinted at her. His unwashed mud-brown hair was disheveled and his thick boots were dusted with soot.
The beautiful maiden looked in his direction, and he could just barely feel a drop of unease travel through his veins like poison, spreading his anxiety to his heart, which pounded with the tempo of a drum. Her eyes, like pools of apple cider, seemed to shimmer with a frigid, suppressed rage only he could notice. 'How dare he question me?' She seemed to think, launching secret threats using just her piercing gaze.
“Learn to hold yer tongue, boy.” The blacksmith warned the ‘little big-mouthed punk’ sharply, staring down at him with hawk eyes.
The blacksmith’s son couldn't swallow the lump in his throat as the golden-haired woman elaborated with the lilt of a princess, “Because, God came to me in my dreams just the night before and told me that a creature of the unholy has invaded our peaceful village. I know practically everyone here, so I can distinguish the newcomers from the locals. Her father is a man that works at the tavern during my shift, and lives in a cabin nearby in the woods. I've had a few drinks with him before during lunch break. We all saw that he is completely oblivious that his wife, whoever she may be, gave birth to something inhuman.”
“No wonder she ain’t around, the mother!” An unattractive little man with thinning graying hair, short stature, and several missing teeth piped up. He seemed like a crazy old uncle with a revolting lack of hygiene, and splotches of brown dappling his wrinkled skin like a rotten banana. “She musta died givin’ birth, anyone woulda died givin’ birth to the daughter of Satan ‘imself!”
“She called herself a princess!” An elderly, hunched woman with a cane hissed loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who's to say she isn't a princess? I say, she's the princess of Hell!”
“She said it was Hell’s weather out here!” The pale-blonde grocer squeaked, her voice as shaky as that old woman’s hand. “How else would she know that? I've never heard anyone use that phrase before!” She dabbed her forehead with a cloth from her breast pocket.
“In case she comes back, keep all your children away from her!” The brunette woman, a mother of three whose looks were aging faster than her, advised the scared townspeople.
“It won't come back, Lilith.” The golden-haired woman stated calmly and confidently, bouncing her little girl up and down. “For we are the hands of God. It is our responsibility to ensure the creature doesn't see the light of day, and if we succeed, our sins may be excused for the rest of our lives for such an act of courage in His name.”
“You mean...we should...?” The tall blonde with the pale, but fair hair quavered nervously, on the verge of trembling so hard she'd cause her basket full of fruit to drop. The very idea seemed like a sin, was a sin, something too heinous to even consider.
“Yes, Jane.” The sinister Goldilocks of the village confirmed with a nod, and a sweet smile. She then made eye contact with the fat woman. “I'm sure you understand, right Mildred? You seem like a respectable woman with enough sense to protect our children from any evil that faces us. Even if it is in the form of a small child.”
Mildred sweated, feeling as if a blinding spotlight had suddenly blasted onto her large frame. A spotlight from the heavens above, a clear sign God was watching over her sternly, awaiting her response just as much as everyone else. “Why of course.” She haughtily replied to the ‘childhood friend’ that had discreetly took any and all friends from her with the power of words. “We must find this man and his wicked daughter.”
“There's a trail that leads to Terrence’s house, miss Mary-Anne!” The teenaged vendor, oval face pockmarked and slick with sour-smelling sweat, eagerly added in. When all eyes turned to him, he awkwardly stammered out, “I-I know where it is, I mean. I can show you. I'm not stupid enough to get you lost, you know…”
“What a sweet young man.” The demented golden-haired woman, Mary-Anne, cooed at him, watching him blush and fidget. “Do you happen to have a curfew? We’ll be purging the child of Satan come dusk.”
The blacksmith’s son felt nothing but horror and dread sickeningly coil in his stomach like it was a pit of twisting serpents. He felt helpless as his father ordered him to return to his labor in the shop. Perhaps this village wasn't as perfect as it was made out to be.
~~~~~~~~~
Terrence rotated the thick wooden spoon through the pool of red accented with flecks of other colors on the spectrum, humming softly and contentedly. He was stirring his stew as it simmered in its copper pot on the coal stove. It was pretty thin tomato sauce, a few dousings of spices, along with chunks and slices of savory vegetables and meat. He paused in humming the melody his mother sang to him when he was but a little boy, and taste-tested the mixture.
“You've outdone yourself this time!” Terrance chuckled to himself, pleased with his cooking and eager to serve it. As he fixed two bowls with heaping servings of the stew, he couldn't help but solemnly murmur to himself, “If only Scarlett was here to enjoy this with us.” Then, he untied the apron from around his waist, and trotted up the steps with a bright grin flashing all his teeth. It took him seconds to walk down to the door at the end of the short hall, especially with the appendages he jokingly called ‘giraffe legs.”
Priscilla, lying on her bed and blankly eyeing a spider skittering across her pillow without even seeing it, heard a knock and then the door swing open one second afterward. “Dinner is served, m’lady!” Terrance’s painfully-happy voice sickened her in her woeful state, but then there was a long pause. She could almost see the smile fade from his face.
Then there was a sigh, as no questions needed to be asked really. It didn't take a genius to understand why she was upset.
“Daddy, why do they hate me?” Priscilla’s whisper made her sound so weak and fragile, and she hated it. Terrence felt like he was watching a most prized, delicate little bloom wilt in front of his eyes. Her pride for who she was had been abandoned by her. Just like her father had loved her when he first laid eyes on her, they all had hated her when they first laid eyes on her. But why? She wasn't really all that different from them.
Terrence chose his words carefully. This whole situation was very new to him, he's never had a child before or even a younger sibling. But his mother had always been full of great advice and always knew what to say to boost his motivation, confidence, and better yet, understanding of the world. He took a seat next to her and scratched his arm, a nervous habit. “Well, you see, people are often afraid of things they don't understand. But I promise that there's nothing wrong with you.”
“My mom had plans of introducing us to your people.” Priscilla choked out, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the burning tears from flowing. “What's the point if they’ll all just judge us as…’unholy,’ ‘ghastly,’ and ‘an abomination’ as soon as they see us? There could be war, they could try and hurt us.” It was a struggle saying these words without bursting into tears. Her breathing was heavy and her voice made her seem like she was speaking through chattering teeth.
“That's entirely possible, as much as I'd hate to break it to you, sweetheart.” Terrence sounded worse than her, and despite her words in that last sentence, she felt shock momentarily pound at her heart like a sledgehammer. It felt like the weight of an elephant had settled on her chest as she swiftly sat up and fixed him with a look that begged the man to hold his hands up, light-heatedly laugh, and say he was only joking. She didn't truly think such conflict would come about because she was a demon princess, she was only being dramatic!
“They would...hurt us?” Priscilla questioned slowly, terrified of the answer. Suddenly she regretted this entire trip. Everywhere in this land felt nothing but unsafe to her. Why couldn't he have spent time with her in her land? Sadly, she was all too familiar with unfair laws such as those.
“I'm sorry, pumpkin, we really are a terrible species.” Terrance forced a wobbly smile to flash at her, sniffing and barely fighting to hide his emotions. She'd never seen anyone so shameful of their own species. Could humanity really be that bad? How naive could she have been to think this world didn't have as dark a downside as her own? Of course its inhabitants weren't all perfect, no matter where or how they grew up. Maybe monsters didn't constantly roam freely, but, perhaps the true monsters were the humans themselves. It had to be true for at least some of them.
“Do you think those villagers will try to...hurt me?” Priscilla gathered the courage to ask a question she already knew the answer too. They were so hostile to her, a complete stranger, who was only trying to be nice and respectful.
“I can only pray to God that they won't, Prilla.” Terrence tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and cupped her face in a desperate manner, as if he were afraid she'd shortly disappear and his chances to show anymore affection would be lost forever. “After dinner, I was going to take you to a friend’s house that's a few miles from here, and there we’ll both hide out for a while. Just to be safe, okay honey? That sound alright to you?”
“After dinner?” Priscilla couldn't even be sure she said it loud enough for him to hear. She felt like a mouse shaking in its fur, and she had no hope of having an appetite for anything.
“Damn, if only we weren't out for so long!” Terrence cursed, heat flushing his face and teeth bared nervously. Priscilla watched the window with him, the sun beginning to retire and let the moon rise to take its shift with the stars. The clouds were pink and orange, the forest seemed bathed in those pretty colors and so did the slightly-darkened, plainly-decorated bedroom.
The two had gotten up bright and early to eat breakfast, then took a nice walk through the woods to find meadows with flowers to decorate the house with, and maybe spy on the peaceful doe and bucks that frequented the area. After telling Priscilla the stories of his long road of hardships, which were rewarded with his two precious loved ones, in the parlor with a cup of tea, that's when they traveled to town on foot.
“I….guess I could eat something.” Priscilla nervously tittered, forcing a watery smile to put her dad at ease as she got up. Normally he would have smiled back and ruffled her hair perhaps, but this time he'd rather have gaped at her like a fish out of water. Mouth almost comically agape, eyes bulging, lips flapping a little as if he were trying to speak but his voice was stolen. Before Priscilla could think to ask if he was alright, she realized he was looking just past her, not at her.
Before the demon princess even processed what she saw out the window, it already felt as if a heavy stone had sunken to the depths of her stomach. It looked as if it was still sunset, with fire on the horizon, but mostly obscured by the canopies of trees. But no, the sun had vanished from that side of the world completely, and stars winked down at orange and yellow fierce glows approaching the house. Through the gaps in between leaves and branches were flickers of white-knuckled hands holding lit torches, and angry, ruthless eyes set in hard, shadowy faces. A silent march along the dirt trail, surely made silent thanks to the thick glass of the window.
“They wouldn't dare!” Terrence cried in both white hot rage and mind-numbing panic, shooting at the window like a speeding bullet to get a closer look. He had said himself it was entirely possible, but looked completely taken by surprise as the leader of the mob guided them onto his property. A lovely face accompanied by a lovely body emerged into the open field that was his yard. Golden locks lit by moonlight, and eyes like golden coins from a treasure chest gazing calmly up at him in the window.
“That woman, the server from the bar,” Terrence breathed as disbelief flashed in his baby blue eyes, “It can't be.” She had been so sweet to him, being endearingly playful and sympathizing with the man over their lost loved ones. She had lost her husband, and he his mother. Of course Terrence didn't dream he would her next husband, but he thought it would be like having a sister for the first time.
She held both a torch and a chef’s knife in her delicate hands. Fear struck him like a blow to the chest. No longer were those fingers twirling the stem of a flower, but a damn blade's handle. He didn't even notice Priscilla was watching beside him until a whisper laced with primal fear came from her trembling lips.
“Daddy.”
A/N: No I will not make a Part 2 for this in my one-shots book. However, it WILL be continued in my Seven Deadly Sins H&S Fanfic. So please, followers of this book, head on down to that one and there will be more frequent updates of that chaptered fanfic. I might still occasionally post one-shots, but since you're my only viewers as of late, I'd love it if you would put Seven Deadly Sins in your library because I guarantee it will be better than any of these one-shots combined.
Last things I want to say are: I will add my own art for some of the chapters, and every character in this little teaser is technically an OC except for Priscilla and her family. Thanks for reading and being supportive, my seekers… Yes, that's what I'm gonna call you guys sometimes, it's like an old classic trend on Wattpad when you give your readers a nickname related to the book. xD IDK, I might call you guys devils instead, who knows? Anyway, thanks!