Sincerely

I don’t care that this doesn’t fit the prompt. I have published this tale before but at the first hurtful comment I received I took it down. Then I was reminded by a friend, which I wouldn’t have friends if it weren’t for this platform, that one of my greatest qualities is that I have been dealt a terrible hand in life and I have still been able to live despite the horrible things people have said and done to me. So, bring on your hateful words because I am Jack Crisis and no one defines my worth or the worth of my mind and the things that come out of it besides myself. Also, this story semi fits this prompt because she doesn’t understand the gravity of her situation. And, fair warning,

This will get ugly.

Proceed at risk of your own sanity.

   ...Then a demon REACHED OUT AT CHARLIE’S FACE!!!...

… And then she woke up. 

   Charlie Buckler, 14, woke up with a gasp in shock. She had just experienced a terrible nightmare about puppets and demons and BLOODY MURDER!

Fun right?

But the fun was just only getting started ‘cause that’s when Charlie saw that she did not wake up in bed. In fact, she wasn’t even in her own house!

Charlie was sitting at her desk, in her first period classroom, in her pajamas, on a Saturday. 

In her hand Charlie clutched an orange fountain pen with a cool design that she had never seen before and in front of her was a note. The note was in Charlie’s own handwriting though she couldn’t remember writing it. 

It read: 

Dearest Charlie Buckler,

You are beautiful.

You are lovely.

You’ll make the perfect slave.

You must be so excited to belong to me. So excited in fact, that you probably wish to scream with anticipation at the very thought of serving me. 

   Now, before things get interesting, my little pet needs to prove herself. All you need to do, my perfect Charlie Buckler, is to kill the largest fish in your principal’s fish tank. 

   But if slave does not know her manners and disobeys her master, then master must teach slave how she must behave.

   I expect that fish tank’s water will be red with blood by sunrise, tomorrow.

   You are so perfect, my Charlie Buckler, I know you will not disappoint me.

   Sincerely,

   Master.

   Charlie looked at the note with total and complete disbelief. She then crumpled the evil parchment and tossed it in the trash. Her parents were on vacation, and her sister was in college, so no one noticed her entering her home in sleepwear. 

   The next day, Charlie couldn’t keep her mind off that weird note. Well, at least she woke up in her own bed so that’s a good sign, right? 

   Still, Charlie felt uneasy. So she went to church that morning, to talk to her best friend, who just so happened to be the pastor’s daughter. 

   And that morning, 

   Charlie found out,

 that the pastor’s daughter,

   And Charlie’s best of friends,

   Was dead in the church.

   Hanging by a noose from the church ceiling was Lucy Lawrence. 

   Lucy hung there with her cold dead eyes open and Charlie began to panic as a police officer approached her. 

   “This is for you,” the cop said, handing her an envelope with her name on it, “a scuicide note.”

   Charlie’s eyes went wide when she saw her own handwriting, and her heart stopped when she read these words:

   Dearest Charlie Buckler,

   You disobeyed me. Now look what you made me make you do. Kill the fish. Before you kill someone else you love.

   Sincerely,

   Master.

   Kill the fish.

   Those three words drove Charlie to madness in a matter of hours. She went so crazy, that when she finally did the terrible deed, she could feel someone watching her. 

   The next morning, she woke up, and there was a note. 

   The same thing happened the next morning, and the next, and the next. 

   Each task more terrible or humiliating than the one before. This “master” was toying with her.

   Charlie was his plaything. 

   And every day,

   Master loved to play. 

   She didn’t mean for it to happen,

   But soon enough,

   Charlie became his perfect slave,

   And he became her master.

   Charlie could not escape. She had no hope of it. Each time that Charlie was about to tell someone about these terrible events she would tug on every beautiful hair on her delicate little head, as if she were a puppet, and her strings were being pulled.

   A year passed and yet still Charlie’s parents had not returned. Every time Charlie called them, they would tell her that their trip had been extended. Charlie, at first, had only wanted freedom, but now, all she wanted were answers. 

   Then one morning, Charlie woke up in a very large bed, in the master bedroom of a penthouse sweet, wearing a night gown that she didn’t own. She had no idea where she was but she knew one thing: the blood on her hands and lips was not her own.

   She walked out of the room and into the hall. The rug seemed to be made of human hair. The walls were decorated with the pictures of terrified girls and the devices HE used to torture them with.

   At the end of the hall appeared a man. The most alluring man to ever exist.

“Hello, my pet.”,

Said Charlie’s handsome captor,

“We had one hell of a night last night didn’t we?”

The, slowly but surely, the memories began to come back.

All the things that had happened that night.

the horrible things she had done.

the horrible things he made her do.

the horrible things he made her do to him.

the horrible things he did to her. ‘

It all came flooding back to her as she began to feel the physical pain of all that had happened.

Charlie fell to her knees in tears begging for someone, anyone, to make it all stop.

It seemed that the man obliged.

Suddenly, a chain appeared in his hand and connected to a collar that Charlie wore around her neck.

The man tugged on the chain and led her through the halls and past open doors which led to rooms which unlocked terrible memories for Charlie.

Each room was another tear from the terrible things that had transpired the night before.

He then led her down stairs that seemed to go on forever. And with each step, Charlie’s mind became foggier and foggier until it was almost impossible to think or remember a time before the first letter.

When they finally made it to the cellar, Charlie was exhausted. “So, my sweet little slave,” the man said with his silver tongue, “Would you like to meet my collection?” He then tugged on her chain again as she went to her knees. “A good pet belongs on all fours.” He said with a malicious laugh. He then quickly changed his mind and tugged her up to her feet again.

He then motioned with his hand around the room at different wine barrels. Each had a different name labeled on it. “Souls”, he said, “I collect souls. They taste even better than wine or desserts. They keep me young. I especially enjoy the taste of a young girl’s soul. The younger the better in my humble yet accurate opinion. And female, because, well, they’re always so pretty, don’t you think?”

“Who are you?!”, Charlie cried, “What are you?!”

“I AM MASTER!!!” Shouted the man. “YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT BY NOW! MY NAME IS MASTER AND I AM A MASTER I AM YOUR MASTER!!!”

The shouting just made Charlie cry even more.

“Now, now,” Master said, “You’ve been a bad girl. Let’s just hope you’re heart is still as pure as I think it is. It always makes the soul taste that much better!”

He then let go of the chain and walked over to a barrel with Charlie’s name on it and turned the Fossett nob. I gush of wind came swirling out of it like a tornado from hell. Then, with a blood curdling scream, Charlie disappeared and was never seen again.

A few moments later…

“Jack!” He said as I entered the room. “How are you my friend, can I offer you something to drink? I just got a new soul.” “No thank you, Mr. M,” I said, “You know I do not drink and that this ‘friendship’ is purely one sided, right?” “Yes, I know, but I still like to consider you a friend of mine even if I am not a friend of yours. Now, why are you here?” I told him why. That I needed a good story to give to the world. So, he let me share this one.

Then I shared a drink with him.

Just once.