Flashing a look full of hatred, of lust and regret, the demon is sucked back through the shutters. They bang close, startling me with their vehemence. My scream trails off. I am safe.

I sit up and turn on the light. My fears are realized.

The Chimera has come again.

He sits in the chair, feet tucked under him like a pleasant cat. He raises an inky eyebrow, strokes two fingers through the obsidian silk of his goatee. He flashes a smile at me, teeth so pearly against the darkness that they’re nearly blue. He doesn’t say a word. Stroke, smile. Stroke, smile.

“Bastard,” I whisper.

He laughs silently, deep in his chest, the sound reverberating around the room like thunder.

We made a deal, he and I. It was a long time ago. I was too young to know any better, he was hunting the night for victims. A match better suited to novels and nightmares. But he likes me. Enough that the deal we struck benefits us both.

I murdered. I sinned. He took. It was that simple.

Fetial declarations aside, he takes from everyone. Good, bad or indifferent. The indifferent, mostly. He signs for their souls without them ever knowing. It’s that last glimpse, when they assume they’ll see the light, that shocks the living hell right into them. And the Chimera laughs as he greets them, down below.

But the lost souls aren’t my problem. The Chimera is my problem. We’re friends in a strange, make a deal with the devil kind of way. Like I said before, he likes me. He’s a fallen angel like the rest of them, still wanton in his desires. I guess I fit with his image of a partner.

He’s here to collect. Anytime, anywhere. That’s our deal. I don’t have to go straight to hell. He possesses my body. Gives a whole new meaning to burning desire.

He knows that you’re most vulnerable when you’re frightened. That’s why he sends in the demon first, to soften you up. Like I said, he’s a true sadist.

I do have a choice in the matter. God gave us free will, the ability to choose which path to follow. My path is forked, two roads less traveled. I can accept the demon’s proposal. Go with him the next time he comes to me. It’s a toss up, sometimes, which is worse. The Chimera or the demon. Love, or death?

I could just never sleep again. It’s not like I get any rest. Every time I close my eyes, start toward that REM stage, they appear. Never sleeping again is a comforting idea.

I wish I could take back that night. The Chimera was there; I didn’t know that at the time. I thought it was just the two of us, alone in the alley. That no one heard my screams. That I was abandoned. That I wrestled the knife away at the last minute with my own strength. That my fingers grasped the hilt. That my muscles forced the tip of the knife into the man’s gut. That the blood spilling onto my arm, my torn dress, my shoes was untainted.

He could have let me die. It might have been easier.

It was ten years ago.

The yin and yang of his world is too complex for me to comprehend. Suffice it to say that while I was being raped and strangled, he stood and watched. Waited. Knew that he could give me the strength to overcome the man and stop the attack, which he did, just not until after the man finished grunting and scraping at me. When the knife appeared, the Chimera stepped in, silent, transparent. He grasped my hand, grappled with the knife. Using my strength, he stabbed the stranger in the stomach, driving the blade in so deep that the warm spill of his intestines gathered in my hand.

He turned with that luminescent smile and said, “You owe me.”

As we were driving our deal, he had the audacity to point out I should thank him for saving my life. What kind of life is this? Labyrinth assassin, fevered dreams, the warm copper spice of lifeblood pouring through my hands. The Chimera, possessing me night by night, the length of him buried deep between my thighs, his scorching desire blazing inside me.

He comes to me, insatiable, unfulfilled. Takes me, over and over. Drives me onward. Over the brink, where the madness of climax allows me glimpses into the raging inferno that awaits.

He is the cause of my reckless journeys, my wasted relationships, my never-ending string of dead end jobs. He is in the drugs, the alcohol, the cigarettes. The lush, provocative nights and the solitary days. He never leaves my side, but only appears when I sleep. He and his demon familiars.

I’m a lucky girl. I’ll never be alone again.

BITS AND PIECES

Blog Short Story Project 3, March 5, 2007. Sponsors: Dave White and Bryon Quertermous. Theme: The required theme was something to do with blogging. What better than to start one?

The Musings of a Serial Maniac

Monday, March 5

Welcome back, mes amis. I apologize for the long absence. I’ve been tied up.

As those of you who have been reading from the beginning know, the melancholy has begun. It’s just not easy living inside a body that you cannot control. I didn’t choose this path. The life chose me.

This was treasure number five. She was delectable, lithe and smooth, and over the next few weeks, we’ll get into all the details. She was the finest triumph thus far, I assure you.

But mes amis, I must confess that I am restless already. According to plan, I stashed her body in the cardboard box, set it by the side of the road, and drove away, leaving her like a present under the Christmas tree of life. Who will find her? What will their reaction be? Will they feel reverence, pity, disgust? Dare I hope for a tingle of excitement? And why am I worried? I feel like I’ve passed some invisible mark, have entered new territory.

I’m ashamed to admit that I drove through town on the way home. I’ve broken protocol. I’ve broken my own rules. It was careless, I know. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from your comments and encouragements is THE GOLDEN RULE—Never Break Any Rules. That’s how we get caught.

Yet as I pulled away from that lonely little box, I couldn’t help myself. I drove through campus, my blood singing in my veins. I watched the innocents and felt myself stir. I don’t know how long I can wait. The raging of my soul will be my downfall, I fear. No, I know.

I must tell you, this blog has become a most therapeutic exercise. Many thanks go out to TeddieB21 for the suggestion. As a community, we all learn from one another.

I’ll join you again tomorrow, mes amis. Until then… Keep on Killin’. Over!

Tuesday, March 6

Mes amis,

I find myself unable to concentrate. I’ve been watching the news, waiting for any word of my treasure’s discovery, and there has been nothing. NOTHING! I’m afraid. Something must have gone wrong. The treasure was left in plain sight. Maybe I should check, see if she’s still there.

I can hear TeddieB21 now, screaming at me through his computer. No, you’re right, buddy. That would be bad. It would be breaking the RULES. Never come back to the scene. I know. I just have this longing building inside of me, and I can’t seem to decide the best thing to do. This happened the last time, with the fourth treasure. It took me three or four days to get over the high, to sate my desire. If I can just get through a couple more long nights, it will be fine, I’m sure.

I drove through campus again this morning. There is another treasure waiting for me to loosen her from the glories of this life, I can feel her. The vibration is back. It’s too soon. I must make it go away.

On a higher note, work went well today. I have been given a promotion. It means a bit more pay, so Donald, I’ll be able to get you your payment for the tapes. They were divine. I highly recommend you seek out Donald and browse through his extensive collection. Those videos have gotten me through many a bad night, I’ll tell you that. I wonder if I’d ever get over my shyness long enough to allow myself to be filmed with one of my treasures?