Curse Of Wine & Belladonna

Artemísia woke up again in that damn room. The walls were covered with ivy and they were moving higher, the curtains were the same as when i was awake and the only thing that differentiated was that there were only ivys, windows, curtains and the bed where Artemisia was lying. The strong smell of beladona almost intoxicated her, it was as if she was chewing on one of its poisonous fruits and enjoying her pre-mortem moment. The girl closed her eyes and put her hand on her chest feeling the fabric of the sweater she wore hours before, lace and sweat that tickled her fingers whenever she wore. She began to imagine pink butterflies or some other flower appearing in the room, wanted to be able to visualize in her mind small fairies, but the girl knew she did not have enough imagination for that. It's not like she expected much of her own dream, close to her sisters, Artemisia looked like a hollow shell. No enough talent or imagination to create your own talent, depending on the garden to

Artemisia only stopped walking when the clock struck 12 times, obviously scaring her. The body hurt a little and asked for food, rest and maybe some sun. However, without employees there was no food and after the eleventh stroke she remembered that she was trying to understand why she was alone in the mansion. I couldn't call the police, because being without employees wasn't an emergency, at least they'd laugh at it and for two weeks it would become the joke of afternoon teas. She passed her hand on her little face caring if the powder came out a little or not, just closed her eyes for a few seconds and sat on the first steps of the stairs. In a few hours looking for someone, alive preferably, only showed that Artemisia was nothing more than a prey. Well, he liked that. The blonde's eyes quickly opened with thought. She had barely made a month of her move and was already starting to go crazy. Who the hell was he? — I give up — Artemisia stood up and put her hands on her hips —

Lady Montenegro's living room was considerably full. The newly maiden gave giggles as they admired the younger children of Mrs. Helton, an incredibly annoying tycoon, who once or again posed to show off their muscles under social clothing. Artemisia could see all those girls' blood on her cheeks at least two kilometers away. The older women were pampering a young woman who had recently married, and who was already with a slightly protruding belly under the dress. "It has to be a girl! You got pregnant in the waning and found out on a blood moon!" One of the women, Miss Jollyn, said excitedly her guesses to the gender of the baby. Baby girls were a gift from the Moon, especially when pregnancy is discovered during the Full Moon, which means that the blessing of the Birth Spirits is falling on the new life that will arrive in the family. Usually during the remaining six months the priestess of the house bathes daisies to the mothers, always with songs of the Mother Goddess and lettin

The only light that dared to enter that place was swallowed by the dense leaves of ivy. The breeze that eluded between the broken windows made a lovely noise to hear, if it was the first time listening. He remained with his eyes closed, in fact sewn by the thorns that also grew there. The devil's mouth was as sand-dried, as much as that place was as damp as a swamp. His fangs pierced their own tongues, seeking to insate with their own blood. But it wasn't enough. How many nights had passed? How many new moons? 200? No... He knew they were more, his body begged so much for blood that there could have been only 200 new moons. The ivys and thorns squeezed him like a snake hugs the prey, keeping it so helpless, without air, without movement. He hated thinking about it, hated being a prey. Ever since he stood before that damn being, he swore to himself that he would never be the prey again. I wouldn't dare be the one who hid when the fatherly light of the sun gave way to the moon, it w

The blonde genuinely didn't know if she laughed at that moment. Just stared at Leonore's face still astonious by what the woman had just said. Dead, how could she be? Artemisia remembered many things in her life and none of them was of a possible death. She remembered the death of his grandparents, remembered the first time one of her pets died, remembered the time she had fallen in love with her classmate and he also died months after a "dating" child. She also remembered her father's death perfectly. Artemisia remembered many deaths, often dragging her morbid veil wherever she went, but none of those memories were of her death. She didn't know Leonore, there was no simple memory of bumping into the girl in twenty-two years of life. It didn't seem to make sense that the redhead was telling her the truth, but there was no reason for her to decide to lie either. Actually, nothing made sense. From the night crows to the bouquets that appear and mysteriously disappear, nothing more matc