I’ve always been trapped in this place. I’ve always been enclosed by dark walls and cold stone. I’ll always be here. I’m not immortal, like Master, but these staircases and drafty halls were my playground and sanctuary.

Master loves me. Master has always been so good to me. His eyes shine like twin coals from a dwindling fire, his teeth are sharp like the blade I keep under my pillow. He keeps me safe from the horrors outside; from the burning light and evil of others.

I have always been here, and I always will be.

(I am his)

In a world of demons, not a lot of things are happiness and sunshine. My mother always used to tell me that life is what you make it, but I’ve found that that isn’t the case.

Life is what you’re given.

I was given a world of monsters. It’s always been that way.

My village has been under the influence of the castle (which remains nameless for the monster inside) for as long as I can remember. The only time anything remotely interesting happened there was when I was maybe five or six…a carriage drawn by two dappled horses brought someone to the castle, and left him. Fifteen years later and no one has come back for whichever poor soul was brought there.

Occasionally you’ll hear a screaming from the dark tower, but other than that, no life stirs from the place. Other strange things happen in the woods surrounding us—large wolves, missing people, strange tracks or noises; we live in an evil land. The monster may not like us, but he is technically Lord over us, and he keeps the beasts in the woods, and lets us till his fields (we have to give him his share though, of course).

I am Yeric, son of a poor farmer. He died when I was eight, or maybe nine. He was one of the last to get a proper burial, for the priest disappeared almost a month later, and everyone else that died, Milly the cobbler’s daughter from childbirth, and Old Mother Helen the herbalist from age, they were made a casket and sent down the river with prayers and flowers, and also with tears.

Mother passed away after I reached manhood. She was always a little weak, a little pale. I looked like her, it’s been said. I have her sad eyes, a dark gray, and her reddish hair. My father was blond, with dark eyes. He had massive hands, from working. My own are smallish for a man. Long, slender, the nails were dirty and rough, the insides calloused and hard. I’d changed them.

My father’s fields were getting overgrown. He died to early for me to learn much from him, and…I was getting desperate for food. There were no eligible women in town either, to bring me a dowry in marriage. So, now I am here.

Waiting at the gates of Hell.

Master brought me here as a boy. I was kept like a pet when I was a child, my hair, nearly white, kept in perfect curls, my face made up in paints to make my eyes big and shiny. There was a cook and one woman servant to dress me that I saw. Master, his glowing red eyes, I saw only at night. He would read to me, treating me almost like a son. He’d tuck me in to my bed, the fire roaring in the hearth, toys scattered about the floor.

He stepped on one once, and the mast of the broken boat went through his foot. He screamed, a cry that seemed as if from a million voices, and forbade toys from me. Afterwards, I played with the mice in the walls, with sticks and flowers and dirt, and with the coals and ashes left from fires.

He noticed the dirt under my nails once.

“No more dirt. Angels aren’t to be dirty.” Then he slapped me. I wasn’t allowed to be dirty anymore.

One day, when I had turned into more of a man, when I was taller, my voice deeper, hair on strange places, I saw something I shouldn’t have seen.

I saw master…I saw master kill a servant. He held her throat to his mouth, and she screamed and screamed. She punched at his chest for release, so he ripped off her hand and sucked at the stump, growling.

When she was dead, slumped on the floor, his clothing damp and red, his eyes burning, he turned to me.

“You shouldn’t have seen something so gruesome Angel. You shouldn’t see something so awful ever again.” He reached for me…..

I awoke to darkness. No fire burned. I saw no hand before my face. I stumbled from my bed, and reached the door. I opened it to darkness.

“Master…?” A hand grasped my shoulder.

“Yes pet?” master spoke from behind me.

“Is it night?” he chuckled, sounding like the devil.

“No Angel, it is day.”

I screamed once realization hit, scrabbling at my eyes…..my eyes, were blind.

“Master why?! Master!!” He full out laughed now, and pulled me towards him. I felt tears on my cheeks. He wiped them away with a cold hand, and held me.

“Now you won’t see anything bad ever again, my pet. It is good.” He left me in my darkness.

I do not know how much time passed. I know that everyday a servant helped me to bathe, dress, and eat. I wandered the castle halls carefully, my hand always on a wall, the other in front of me. I had grown cold, no beauty could I see. I could hear the birds in the trees of the garden, I could smell the roses, and feel the sun on my skin, but I couldn’t see the green grass, or the blue sky. What did I look like? What colors were the clothing I wore?

I wanted to know these things so badly, and no one would tell me. I sat there in the garden. I listened to the cardinals and chickadees and held a cut rose in my hands.

“Angel, I have brought you a friend. He is one and twenty, like yourself. He is a new servant from the town to describe things to you. Do not worry pet, he will be here a long time.” Master left me.

I felt the man sit next to me.

“What is your name?”

“I am Yeric, son of Gamber. I was a farmer. What is your name?”

“Name? I do not remember. Master calls me Angel, or pet.”

“Those are not names.”

“I recall my first maid called me Merrin. I do not know what it meant. Was it a name?”

“Maybe Merrin is a common name amongst the folk of the northern lands. Do you know if she was blond?”

“She was.”

“You know?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes. I could see until I was…maybe thirteen? Master blinded me sometime around then.”

“Wait….your master blinded you? It wasn’t an accident?!” I looked toward his voice.

“What color are my eyes?”

“White. Doesn’t it matter that your master hurt you?” I sighed.

“Master has always hurt me. My eyes are white? They used to be blue….”

He fell silent until the wind grew colder, then he led me to my room.

“Goodnight Yeric.” I said.

“Goodnight Merrin.” He said after a moment, his footsteps echoing down the hall.


so yeah, more crap. it's a little bit better, but new stuff always is. first time writing slash. I don't know how graphic I'm willing to get.