Like a Corpse Dancing in the Sun

*This is not part of the Pens of Fate stories.*

There was no escape. Day or night, night or day, it followed him. It was a primal fear, a nightmare within itself. It worked its way up from the depths of his stomach until it completely consumed him. 

His waking hours were consumed with thoughts of her that came with her missing person posters that seemed to blow everywhere in the streets. His nightly repose granted no relief. 

 Fear, that was what Peter felt every time he saw Roxy Willaims’s missing person’s posters. At night he would wake up in a cold sweat, drenched and weary as images of Roxy dancing in the warm summer sun. The blood and mud that covered her once white sundress reflected the sunlight as she twirled and spun. Her long red hair now tangled and knotted in several places blew in the wind. Even though Roxy’s skin was a lifeless gray color, she was just as gorgeous if not more beautiful than when she was alive. Roxy’s hazel eyes still had that fiery hate burning in them when she had glared at Peter as she was dying, but the rest of her face was expressionless. 

Guilt weighs Peter down, draining him of his youth and energy. His eyes would be sunken in and he would be paler than normal, but when people looked his way it seemed like he was nowhere to be found. Peter knew that the cops would never believe him because there was nobody, and without Roxy’s corpse, her case after three years will still be unsolved. But Peter just couldn’t take it anymore, so after waiting for his mother to pass out on the worn-out sofa that night Peter took off with the backpack that little did he know had the truth about what really happened all those years ago. 

Peter stood out on the lake’s shore where it happened. There was no moon to give light, but his backpack and a piece of driftwood that he found earlier now glistened gasoline as his hands violently tumbled while holding a small pack of matches. With a shaky breath, Peter let the lit match fall to the ground. The backpack was engulfed in shades of red and orange and the fire danced like the way Roxy did in his nightmares, almost like it was under a spell cast by her spirit. Peter’s ivory eyes reflected the burning embers making his eyes appear to glow as the fire began to die out and the first lights of dawn began to peek through the tops of the surrounding trees. Peter then turned round to his bike to head back home when he stopped short due to pure fear. 

Roxy’s corpse lay face down in the golden sand, blocking his way. Peter’s breath was now caught in his throat, cutting up his airways as if it was a sharp razor. Peter continued to stare wide-eyed at Roxy. Breaking the silence and peaceful serenity of the lake a low inhuman growl originated from the corpse. Peter couldn’t move and just stood there petrified as Roxy began to arch her back up towards the sky. Peter wanted to scream but when he opened his mouth to Roxy stood up completely, her head lowered so her eyes were hidden. 

“You can’t be real. You’re dead,” Peter statenented as his fist frightened around the gas tank. Roxy locked eyes with him to reveal a dark secret.

Roxy was smiling and took a deep breath, holding out a burnt piece of paper outwards to Peter, “No, you’re the one who's dead.”

Peter, with shaky hands to the note and then looked back on that sunny day as the truth began to blow in the wind…

Peter and Roxy sat by the lake, soaking up the sun. Peter’s missing poster lay in front of them as if it was just another piece of paper. Roxy’s red hair blew in the wind while hummed a soft melody. Roxy then locked eyes with Peter and smiled sweetly.

“Hey, Peter?” 

“Yes?” Peter asked.

“We will always be friends, right? I mean even after death.”

Peter sat there silently pondering her question. When he finally broke the silence, Roxy’s posture shifted.

“I don’t know why you’re thinking about death, but we will always be friends,” Peter lied through his teeth. He knew that Roxy’s parents were planning on sending her to a boarding school for the insane children. He saw Roxy changed; she had become very violent towards the high school professors and towards her own parents.

“What does death look like?” Roxy asked smoothly. 

Peter sat there stunned at her question, but her beautiful face remained expressionless as it began to decay in front of him. 

“Would you like me to show you what death looks like, Peter?”

Before Peter could respond, Roxy held out a small knife and smiled innocently. 

“I want you to stab me, Peter, and witness the beauty that death really is.”

Peter was full of fear of this one girl, as she handed the knife to him. Peter couldn’t form words or drop the knife. His eyes stared down at the blade, then locked eyes with Roxy. She still smiled like they were just talking about the weather. 

“I know that you want to see death, Peter. You crave it as if it was sweet. Your fear is just in the way,” Roxy said this as if she did know about Peter’s dark side and his past. 

After getting tired of waiting for Peter to do it, Roxy forced the knife into her chest, holding on tightly to Peter’s hands, not letting him pull back. She smiled when she saw his eyes filled up with pure panic. 

Good, Roxy thought as her breath slowed, now you can see death, and now I can be with you forever, my dearest demon.

Just as she thought that Peter’s black bat-like wings unfolded from his back as tears ran down his cheeks. All hope of Peter becoming human perished right along with Roxy. Had it been that noticeable, Peter silently questioned, all these years of trying to hide it, and she noticed… 

All Peter wanted was a chance at life but in order to do that, he had to give up his taste for blood. Peter blew his chance and now being bound to Roxy Willaims is his new Hell. Peter pulled the knife out of Roxy and turned it into himself.

Roxy sat by the young devil’s body, holding a black rose, and letting the thorns pierce her skin. Her blood trickled down her arm and fell onto the ground, staining the sand to a bright and somber red.

“Black roses do not exist in nature, yet here they are,” she said as black roses grew out of Peter’s demon lifeless body that lay beside her. Roxy continued to talk to the corpse.

“Their symbolism varies in culture and everyday life, Peter. Regardless, they are significant and meaningful. The black rose communicates the somber emotions of death, danger, sorrow, and revenge. Black roses can also signify obsessive love or a deep connection between anti-heroes. In fiction, black roses are often assigned to vampires, dark souls, and antagonists, signifying their evilness and dishonor. Is this the reason that they are growing out of you, Peter?” 

After she said this, Roxy then picked up Peter’s backpack and took out a notebook, and began to write. 

The note from Roxy Willaims to Peter

There is nothing scarier than an eternity on your own, nothing and nobody to talk to about the nightmares that you have encountered on your journey. Countless cold nights of that and maybe, just maybe you'd be more scary and insane than I am. No compassion, no remorse to keep your soul from turning to the dark side. So why choose to be alone in your madness? Come, let me show you the pleasure of cruelty, the joy of dark power. You'll find it so pleasurable, I know you will. On the inside you and I are the same, I can tell even if you don’t. You aren't pure enough to make it through the gates. So why live in-between the light and the dark? After all, what is there to be afraid of when you are the monster inside of your own Hell, Peter?