Categories > Original > Horror
DeathWings
Dedicated to Emma, here is the necromancer
Nicola was running, she didn't know why, she didn't know where... all she knew was that she was running.
"Are you scared?" They asked her "Are you scared of me?"
"No," she would gasp "You don't scare me."
"Are you scared?" The voice persisted, following her.
Nicola was running, running, running, running. Running away from the voice that was following her. Was it male or female? Adult or child? All Nicola knew was that she was running, always running, never slowing, never stopping.
"Are you scared?" They asked her, all seven hundred of them. "Are you scared of me?" Each voice layered in unison, whispering, shouting, screaming.
"I'm not scared!" Nicola screamed at them as she ran "I'm not scared of you! You don't even exist!" But what was it that didn't exist? Did she know? Or was she searching for meaning in the shadows, yelling at herself.
"I'm not scared," a voice would say, surrounding her.
"I'm not scared, are you scared?"
They were following her, always following, she couldn't get away. She could never get away, never, never, never get away. They would haunt her until she joined them, until she became a shade like them, like the ones she called to do her bidding.
"Nicola," they whispered and echoed "Nicola, Nicola, Nicola, Nicola."
"I'm not Nicola!" She screamed "Nicola is dead!"
"Are you scared Nicola? Are you scared of me?"
"I am Norah! Not Nicola, Norah!"
Nicola was scared, because Nicola was dead within her mind. Norah was not scared, Norah was their master, their Queen. They called Norah DeathWings, because she rode on the wings of Death, and Nicola was dead.
Dedicated to Emma, here is the necromancer
Nicola was running, she didn't know why, she didn't know where... all she knew was that she was running.
"Are you scared?" They asked her "Are you scared of me?"
"No," she would gasp "You don't scare me."
"Are you scared?" The voice persisted, following her.
Nicola was running, running, running, running. Running away from the voice that was following her. Was it male or female? Adult or child? All Nicola knew was that she was running, always running, never slowing, never stopping.
"Are you scared?" They asked her, all seven hundred of them. "Are you scared of me?" Each voice layered in unison, whispering, shouting, screaming.
"I'm not scared!" Nicola screamed at them as she ran "I'm not scared of you! You don't even exist!" But what was it that didn't exist? Did she know? Or was she searching for meaning in the shadows, yelling at herself.
"I'm not scared," a voice would say, surrounding her.
"I'm not scared, are you scared?"
They were following her, always following, she couldn't get away. She could never get away, never, never, never get away. They would haunt her until she joined them, until she became a shade like them, like the ones she called to do her bidding.
"Nicola," they whispered and echoed "Nicola, Nicola, Nicola, Nicola."
"I'm not Nicola!" She screamed "Nicola is dead!"
"Are you scared Nicola? Are you scared of me?"
"I am Norah! Not Nicola, Norah!"
Nicola was scared, because Nicola was dead within her mind. Norah was not scared, Norah was their master, their Queen. They called Norah DeathWings, because she rode on the wings of Death, and Nicola was dead.
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