—PROLOGUE—

“YOU ARE A WITCH!”

“YOU ARE A CHILD OF A DEVIL!”

“GO TO HELL!”

“LEAVE US ALONE!”

“CURSED ONE.”

‘Cursed one’. That is the name they gave her, the mark of their accusations as they claim that she is the daughter of the Devil himself. An omen, the Daughter of Darkness, and everything that comes with their hate, fear, and warry towards her where they associate with, as they brand her since she was three. Because unlike them, unlike ours, she is peculiar. Different from the rest and unlike any other kids. Her red eyes that resemble thick blood, her dark hair comparable with the shadows of the night, and her pale skin that somehow shines under the full moon are the things that everyone claims to be the daughter of hell. 

“Why are you so weird?”

They always ask her, followed by a laugh then a curse as no one wanted near her as no one wanted to be with her.

“Why am I so different?”

She always asks, whereunto her world, no one could hear her claims, wishes, and wants, as her life was somehow trapped in a dead silence no one could answer, enter, or could even see.

“Am I not… HUMAN?”

Thoughts that keep on pilling and flooding her innocent mind, like it is slowly creeping the life out of her as they exchanged it with far greater than the curse that they call her.

“One, two three… Tick-Tock!”

She would often sing, watching from the hidden corner of her room window. Counting the people outside of her dark sanctuary as she holds her doll with the creeping silence that surrounds her.

“Four, five, six, can I see you’re flesh?”

Wondering why as she often asks how, yet no one could answer the questions that she is dying to know. As the days pass and every minute counts, she always sings counting together with the hand of time, from the pure lust for the thing that she should not covet, but then she let it consume her.

“Seven, eight, nine, can I kill them all?”

Giggling with that chilling voice as she looks at her masterpiece with the image of the people she knew pasted on her wall like a shrine and were in the middle is her beloved one. 

“Finally, at ten, can I have her, right?”

Whispering as she hunts in a chilling voice, calling, and talking with the unknown she can only see. The shadow that lurks in the far dark corner of her world, giving off a foul smell of rotten flesh as it reaches its claw towards her wherein, to the eyes of an ordinary human its form is like a shadow. But for her, its flesh and blood is a sight to adore as it nods granting her desire. Knew about her mortal blood, yet destined to be not, she is like a fallen angel OPHIUCHUS made as a vessel.

“I can have you, right, DA-NI-E-LA?”

She asks as the ominous figure agrees with her wish. She then draws a smile then laughs in a sinister tone from her flesh, bone, and blood just like a human girl should, but not inside. She is not like any other, for she is born together by the eyes and blessing of the dead, devils that hunger for blood, supernatural that beyond the bounds of any normal one could comprehend. For like her what they want, thirst, and sin for, is everything that the word chaos can define and bring them, as her innocence, pretty face, and entire being is a fictional character that everyone should be envious of and warry off with the perfection only HE can tell.

“The perfect one.”

Born under the star of the serpent with skin as white as snow, eyes as red as blood, and hair as black as the darkness of the night is a mere shallow thing of who she is. From the truth of her entire being and personality where her innocent does not count, for she is far from being an innocent one. As she sought after is to imbibe a maritime of blood, to see a tarn of death, to hear a cry of pain and reek of detestation. Seeking and wanted to play with life and death, eradicate everyone, feast on their flesh, and be filled with a glorious laugh on top of towering corpses she slays with her own hands, but then a question she wanted to be answered.

“Just why are you all afraid of me?” 

She smiles hellishly, wondering about that though she considered as a stupid thing. For what they all point at her as a curse, a daughter of the devil, and an omen that does not deserve to live, are all but the truth about her, yet among those, she is the one that is deserve to live unlike the rest of them. The truth is that they should not hate her, for that was she all is, yet from everything of those she thinks as a compliment, why does everyone still is scared and hated her? Perhaps they all misunderstood her or were just jealous of her because of her perfection. Whatever it may be, she cares less knowing that she is special than anyone around her, the perfect little girl, a seven-year-old intelligent and diligent one, the only one they should love as of so much? Yet, they seem a little off, a little immature, and a little too, too much afraid of her.

“Aren’t I, perfect?”

She wonders, making her think twice and even thrice, for the things that she’d done and for the love that she owns. Is satisfying every bit of her desire should be her top priority? Just like how people tend to their desire despite the sin that it might bring them. Just how different it might be from her wants and wishes to bathe with someone's blood, to cut the head of the living, and embrace the thrill of seeing someone slowly dying in a torturous way, as the other people's desire within the deadly sins of seven. Isn't it just unfair to judge her where they cannot seem to judge the greater sin they all have? Besides, all that she did is to satisfy her wish as it is all,

"Fun..."

She giggles in pure lust walking in a circle until she decided to move forward singing her favorite song and lullaby.  

Hold my hand, little ones

I'll take thee away

Into a land of wonders

Hold my hand, little one

It’s time to come out and play

Take my dolls as we will sing

Drip, drip, drip

I'll teach you how

Through all the pain,

And the sorrows

Let them weep, let them crawl

For life is this way

Murdering beauty and passions

Hold my hand, little one

It must be this way

Too weary of life

And deceptions

Hold my hand, little one

For soon we'll away

To the eerie and silence

Humming the dreadful tone as every word that she speaks can drag anyone down in hell, she smiles, satisfied? No, too little to be, yet too much to be, too much to be eaten alive. Taking a few steps creating a creaking sound to the old wooden floor of the coldest underground basement where the only light source is a pair of medieval wall lamps that are tainted with blood. She smiles with a moment of pleasure, as the body of the lifeless people she loves, she cares, but only mock her painted her walls with their red blood as their body hangs in the ceiling decorating her place with their flesh and eyes, she whispers.

“I wanted to tell them, I wanted to let them have a bite, and maybe they will change their mind.” 

As her words faded together with her ominous hushed giggle, and unto her hand, she holds a butcher's knife swaying it around before cutting the dog's head she stabs multiple times unto its death. With its blood squirting and painting the floor with its red blood, she smiles with satisfaction as she looks at the head holding it both with her hands before kissing it. Throwing it to the far corner creating the sounding thud, she walks taking her seat on the wooden chair and resting her bloody hands on its wooden table, speaking.  

“I’m not bad, I’m a good girl, but all that I do freaks them all out.” 

She asks looking straight and back smiling widely, yet with gloom to someone else’s eyes.

“Hush, hush, shh…” She gestures a silence with her bloody finger.

Kneeling to meet someone's eyes, where it pins the horror towards her, she looks away once more and down to the picture in front of her, reflecting her image from the frame as she now looks intently to the person she cared about. She rests her chin on her right arm above the wooden desk as she smiles. But not an ordinary and pure one, for it was a smile of regret and miss, yet hateful and sad. Changing her expression to anger and hate, she slowly touches the glass frame to where the smile of the one she only trusted is placed. Their unforgettable moment together, their inseparable bond, the happiness she once had, and with their both smiles that are tainted with betrayal, curse, and hate she asks. 

“Is playing with a doll is bad? I ‘love them’ I will answer if they will just ask, but they do not seem to like them. Maybe because they are black dolls, or maybe?” 

As she pauses, visibly imagining the words ‘SHE’ will tell her in return, from the things and questions that from that day and the tragedy of her betrayal, the friendship she once cares about will never come to her once more. 

“Tell me, is it because they are made of straw and sometimes made of hair?” 

She giggles while she plays with the locks of her hair, and in seconds cutting it with the snapping sound that echoed throughout the room. Starting from every little inch to centimeters thinking that what she is doing would please ‘HIM’ and anger ‘HER’.

“You are not mad at me, right? As you said yourself, I must do the things that can make me happy, and besides, isn’t it more fun if I use a real one? You said it yourself, you like the dolls I made for they are pretty... REAL, so I made it much more beautiful than you can ever imagine. That is why I made them real.”

She hopes, asking for a compliment, now with the longing eyes and faithful glances, smiling a bit genuine, but still with dread and lust. 

“To do that, I must use the most realistic one, and you know what I just realize? That nothing in this world is much more real, than... HUMANS. Do you, would you, of course, you agree with me, right, Ai?”

Standing up as she heads back to her daily job, she switches the remaining lights on revealing in her eyes the marvelous red tainted fresh and dark blood room of her sanctuary. Hanged with the magnificent design of the screaming hallowed eye faces and decapitated bodies rotten in time and space of the ones she knew, the one she owned, and the ones who defy and laugh at her. 

Taking the eyes of the decapitated head of the dog and slowly toss it up to the largest glass jar a few steps right to where she stands. Looking at it with awe as its dark eyes slowly sinks to the bottom of the pooled red waters together with her collection, she smiles perfectly admiring the art that she named.

“Starry blood eyes.” 

Giggling with excitement as she watches the floating and sinking of the different colored eyes of the living creatures that bubbled up and down through a vacuum, her eyes spark with satisfaction where it all brings her.

 “If you are here, if only you stayed with me, you should have seen this. I made them pay, I did, all for you, all because of you, yet, you choose her. But do not worry, I am not mad at you, because I love you as I always did, yet,”

Standing up as she walks to the deepest part of the room switching the lights as she passes by that corner, she draws an evil smile on her face. As she pauses for a while, and all the insanity within her is mark unto her face, a thud from the lifeless animal she made fun of as she let it fall now rolling onto the floor and painting the black dried blood with its fresh blood again, she whispers calling.

“Hello mom, dad.”

“Let me go, please.” 

Miranda pleads, the woman who once had the most beautiful face that she hated the most. The woman who once she thought that loves her dearly, but was not and the woman she hated now to be called,

“Mother.”

“You devil!”

“Shh...” she whispers, slowly making her way to the almost lifeless body of the woman who once was the most beautiful maiden but now is an unrecognizable freak. Grabbing a doll and holding it close in her chest as the light slowly makes Miranda's face visible to see, the horror that any human might encounter cannot describe what she becomes. Seeing her state and features that resemble not even a human to call, but a monster she created and carved with every detail.

“You should have stayed quiet, but well, that’s what you both are.”

Now grabbing another doll close, holding it both tightly unto her right arm, she smiles while gripping a knife unto her left hand. Slowly and contently, with a grin on her face as she walks slowly knowing that they both could not see her, for their eyes had already joined her art when she effortlessly took it out from them neglecting their screams of pain as she enjoyed it all to herself. 

As the dolls become the real ones, the terror begins. Where everything that makes her dolls look real is every inch of life, fresh, even the bones and blood of the person resembling it. Now to her parent's turn and just like what she always does, the perfect creation with the perfect formula and steps is about to be complete. Starting simply out from their hair, skin, flesh, and the final ingredient and the most important one, their crimson blood.

“Such a beauty you both now have, mom, dad.” 

Smiling dreadfully as the fresh scent of their blood drip slowly from their skinless face down to their neck, making it shines in her eyes, as the puddle of black dried blood mixes with the new one makes it more fun for her to see with her greedy eyes. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Pleading as they both in the brim of their death, yet still wanted a little of her mercy. A hope that not once ever since then, ever since she knew the world and its cruelty ever gave her, nor they spare even a little to her. Worst with the past and the persons that should have protected, love, care, and sheltered her against the world that mocks her are the ones who push her more on brink of her now destructed, yet perfect life. Now, how dare they ask such a thing when they could not give it to her then. 

“Why? Isn’t this fun? Your dolls will be a beauty.” 

Marking a sinister smile as her excitement overflow. She raises the knife as she lodges it in between their neck, one at a time.

Laughing contently with a giggle as the fountain of blood squirts muffling the loudest scream as it slowly faded right after on the count of six stabs she made.

“Finally,” she remarked, laughing sinisterly as she bid her happiest farewell. “See you both in hell.”

To the screams that a second ago echoed throughout the close space, bouncing it back and forth, but only buried it down with it. As the light reflected the dripping blood from the sharpest blade that she holds with her contented heart, she makes sure everything ends that way making it all ‘just wonderful’.

“Love you both, mommy, daddy.” 

She giggles, embracing the fresh scent of their blood dripping from their head to the floor as their body shivers in great pain, raining through like a fondue. No, a blood fountain, where only a unique little girl like her love. “It’s beautiful.” 

Admiring the view, she glances at the sharp knife she holds that’s dripping with blood down to her hands as she smiles seeing her reflection on the blade of the knife. Just then, reflected and at the back of her is a pair of eyes which took her by surprise as back an inch away, yet knowing who it was she faces it with a welcoming smile. To the shadow that instructed her for her long-awaited wish to be fulfilled, she obliges.

Dropping the knife on the floor as it thuds against the pool of blood, creating a whirl on its plasmatic surface. Her expression changes and once again, looking at the dead body of her parents, her eyes turn into an expressionless tone as she finally curses.

“May your soul rot in hell.” 

Kneeling she scoops their blood with her hands filling her doll with her once parent's flesh and blood. Satisfied at the end, but still wanting more, she remarks a sweet evil laugh grasping the sweet surrender from her once called,

“Isn’t she beautiful,” she asked hoping, now standing on her feet as she looks at a corner turning the chair facing her back with the image of a rotting boy’s flesh.

Turning back as she smiles purely asking the questions that she always hopes, and she surely knows that he will soon answer. She slowly walks towards him holding with her hand the dolls that are her gift for him. The same dolls she created by her known parents’ life. Ending her steps to a perfect count of six, she leans close and whispers into his rotting ears.

“Just 50 more souls.” 

As she whispers those words like a spell to summon and open a gate, the lights flicker fast in beat creating a rhythmic thud echoing with a scream. Then within a second everything turns dark.

Closing her eyes as she listens to a faint howl that slowly by each second screams its loudest dread, six lighted black candles appear. Opening her eyes a pentagram is lighted on the floor connecting to the ends by the candles to where now the lifeless body of her parents sat, their flowing blood marks and traced the inverted triangle star wherein the center of the circle is the Latin word and name of the demon if PRIDE. Scribing the Latin words of ‘HIS’ ritual call, a blinding light reflected as a whispering chant echoed in her words.

To a shrieking scream as bony dark flesh emerges craving those long fingers as those sharp fingernails clawed. A sign turning into smoke as it circled the flesh of death dragging out the screaming souls of her once parents to call. Grabbing the orbs as their screams subside and are gone. It turned back to its form as it dives and back to the dark pit where it came from, leaving the echoing laugh of the devil as it slowly vanishes in the deep distance below.

Silence turns back as the pentagram burned to leave the mark to once where it was. The lights turn back on and the candles faded with it. She looked back and straight to where the knife lays, with its blade somewhat perfectly washed from its coated blood from those seconds ago, words of a Latin mark were visible and to its handle. Seven pentagon signs are visible, as each one represents the Princes of hell.

“A little more to go.” 

She declares, looking back to where the rotten flesh sat into the small dining table pin with the Latin words and the biggest transmutation pentagram on its back. For her life, her world, her love, and for all that she is and all that she became is all because of him, and nothing else, but for him.

“Right?” 

She sinisterly laughs, licking the blood on her face as she smiles, hideous as you can imagine it, yet she is beautiful don’t you think? She turns her back, walking towards the book that opens the unwilling path for her.

Devil, they may call her maybe, but bathing with blood and taking the life of those stupid humans is just the right amount to be the sacrifice one for his birth. For her plans, for her future, she will do everything to make her dreams come true. Even if it means killing her very dear friend, for everything is her roller coaster ride and her paradise.

“Don’t you think, Raiden?” 

As she calls out his name looking abandon. Opening the book that freed the cold and nasty smell of the lives she fulfilling devour making her wanting to have more, she read the words as the devil visited, smiling, saying hello as sinister as it could be, as she could be. She fixed a look at the lifeless body she hung on the walls of this hell-like place she calls heaven.

If you are asking what she does to survive, for a little beautiful girl like her. Don’t bother, just look around or better yet imagine. Brace yourself as you read this diary count the days until ten for, she will surely visit your soul in the dream you will find yourself dead. For a girl like her all that she has to say, she lives because she is dead. Try to close your eyes or better yet take a pen and paper as you read and count the time, imagine her. Draw a figure and you will discern; she owns a pair of blue eyes then, for why? Because she tainted it with her new pair of crimson blood hues. like she wanted it to be. A mix of dark and red hair that she finds amusing, pale skin that hides the creature of the dark, pale lips that compliments her long-dead body, and the red amulet she gave to her. The first thing she receives for the very first friend she had, but then she betrays, or should she say, 

“You do, right? You love her more than you do to me,” as she whispers creaking the hideous smile from deep within her hateful heart towards the heart that never once shed a chance, but given to the heart that she longs dead into her hands. “You love her, you love,” she stops restraining her voice from uttering the word of taboo. The name that once took the most special part of her heart, but the same to whom killed her forever.

Maybe she is not that beautiful like her and not as special as her. She had no magic to tell or family to be proud of. Well, she had everything that she does not, with that reason why she did everything just to be like her or as well she says greater than her. Now here she is the devil she become, all because of,

“You!”

She howls, making the house shake, laughing as sinister as she could be.

“Right?” 

She asked him, looking impatiently at his cold and decomposing body.

“Maybe she’s looking for you, don’t you think?”

But who cares? His hers and only hers now. If he just chose her, maybe he is not that ugly like that now.

“I need to do what I have to do. I snatch him, and now his soul is in this jar. All I have to do is collect a hundred celestial souls. Oh! Now it’s only 50, and for the chief ingredient a maiden’s blood, and I know to whom is the perfect one.” 

She smiles as she looked at her picture.

 “Just wait no longer, my love I will surely bring you back to life all I have to do is to kill her, and you would permit me, right? To kill her, to kill,”

DANIELA