The Devil's Game

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Lord Damien dwells in the dark art, his whole life becomes twisted and torn a part when his own family is dragged into these turns of events.

Submitted: October 05, 2011

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Submitted: October 05, 2011




A Lost Soul
By Jennifer Anne Glenn

A long time ago Lord Damien Angelus began to pour his heart into the sinister, mysterious secrets within the dark arts. Angelus longed and pleaded for wealth and power, he longed so much for these sins that he began to forget what his heart truly desired. As he dwelled in darkness and evil, his heart began to slowly turn to cold stone. As years crawled by painfully, Damien’s lust for wealth and power grew more intense and deep. But a great curse was soon to tear Damien’s world apart...

Nine months passed Damien and his family. Nine months of bliss and sound ignorance to any curse that had been promised, but the Angelus family were blessed with the luck of a baby. Alas, this sweet blissfulness was to end very soon. On the last night of the nine months, the curse took its course. Sorrow and darkness filled the house of Angelus clinging to minds off all dwelled there, clinging like the chilling damp that sticks to grass in the bitter mornings.

Anguish and pain could be heard from Lady Angelus’ chamber. Damien thrashed his fists against the wall. Her screaming became more excruciating for Damien to hear. Each scream was like a cold knife being slowly twisted inside his stomach. He knew in his own mind that he had inflicted this torturing and agonising pain on to this wife, this was the result of his greed and selfishness. He couldn’t even bring himself to enter the room, as poisonous guilt ate away him.

Then all went quite. Nothing could be heard from Lady Angelus’ room, apart from footsteps from behind the tall wooden doors. Damien stepped away from the doors, his heart began pounding against his rib cage, as if trying to escape the terrible fate which he was bound to enter. His eyes locked onto the bronze door handle. Slowly the handle turned, the old door creaked open, but no one came through, except an eerie silence which crept slowly through, and surrounded The Lord. As Damien stood in the door away, perplexed as to whether go in, he suddenly felt a bitter sensation on the back. He gasped as he felt a chilling hand being placed on his back push him into the room.

 Damien staggered into the room. The room was an inky black, as black as spider’s eyes. He turned to the bed where his wife lay. She lay still and motionless. As Damien turned to look he saw she was draped in a white cloth that was stained in satin red blood. Fresh blood trickled from the bed, and dripped on to the floor. As Damien moved closer towards Lady Angelus’ body, a towering hooded figure, like a haunting shadow, stood at the head of the bed where the pale corpse lay. The Shadow wore a torn cloak which was shredded at the arms and the feet.

The hooded figure loomed over the corpse, it raised a rotting hand; a hand that was twisted and torn, with fingers that were like broken spider legs. The flesh stretched right across the bone. The hand moved towards the hood, and pulled it down. The hood fell revealing a distorted, mangled face. The skin dangled from the cracked bone of the skull. Where eyes should have been, there was nothing but stained flesh that had sunken into the broken sockets of the skull. Through the sunken skin, dark, red blood trickled down the face, and fell on to the white skin of the corpse.

The moulding skeleton turned its head to look at Damien, as The Shadow turned round, Damien saw in the figures arms it held a baby, Damien’s child. Lord Angelus gasped as saw his child. He had burning tears slithering down his checks. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. The Shadow didn’t reply, only watched Damien. The figures took one of its decaying hands and placed it into its robe, pulling out an old scroll, and held it out to Damien.

Damien stumbled as he walked forward. His hand shock viciously as he took the scroll, slowly he unravelled the parchment. As Damien unrolled the scroll, he saw words written in dried blood. Terror took over Damien’s body; his eyes darted across each word written on the page. He looked up at The Shadow, ‘I...I can’t do this!’ stuttered Damien. But still the figure stood motionless. Its deep, dark eyeless sockets stared deep into Damien.

The room turned icy cold; Damien felt this blood freeze inside his veins. Suddenly The Shadow raised its heads high and began glide, like a bat, towards Damien. He found himself stood almost face to face with the demon like creature; he could smell the vile breath of the creature. From nowhere, The Shadow conjured a silver dagger. The dagger landed in The Shadow’s skeletal claw like hand, the blade glistened in Damien’s teary eyes. A low murmur came from The Shadow, ‘You will do this,’ The Shadow’s voice was harsh and croaky, ‘You must pay the price!’

The Lord begged The Shadow, begged that he would take Damien instead, but The Shadow showed no mercy. The Shadow returned to the burning fires of hell taking Damien’s wife’s body and soul, leaving Damien standing alone with this baby daughter in his arms, and the silver dagger being held loosely in this hand.

Eighteen years passed Damien and his daughter, whom he called Rose. The grief for his beloved wife cut his conscience in half.  The scroll which The Shadow had handed over was now away in Damien’s old study. Day and night, The Lord prayed for his wife to be returned to him but his prayers were never answered...

As Rose grew up, her curiosity for the locked study grew more and more strong. Every morning when the burning sun rose, her father would lock himself inside the study and then he would retire to his chamber when the sunset, oblivious to his daughter’s desire to find out what he was hiding. On a dark evening, as if by chance, Rose was passing her father’s study when something caught her eyes. The door of study was open a small silver light glistened the corner of room. Rose found herself entering the room as curiosity and wonder burned inside her mind. When Rose had entered the room, she saw laid out on her father’s desk what looked like ancient piece of parchment. She walked to the desk, and lifted up the scroll...As she began to read what was written, Damien walked in...

His eyes glistened powerfully with haunting memories of the past. The reflection of the merry flames of the raging fire could be seen dancing in his eyes too. It was all most as if the burning heat of fire was like the burning past that was savagely eating away at Damien’s already decaying heart. His voice trembled violently off the shadowed walls of the large room. Rose could not remove her eyes from his quivering body. Her heart was beating viciously against her rib cage. Words were chocking her. She couldn’t seem to let the words enter mouth and flow into the open air, which was sustained with the awkward silence of confession.

 The room was quite; just the low rumbling of the thunder outside was all to be heard. ‘Rose…’ Damien’s voice shook and then fell quite again. ‘PleaseYou must understand me…’ Damien was soon cut off by Rose. Her jaw was clenched tightly; her eyes were deep with danger. She rose to her full height, her hand clenched into tight fists of fury. ‘No,’ her voice was stern, yet there was small hint of sorrow in her voice. Damien walked over to his daughter. He took her hand in his hand. At this gesture, Rose pulled away, allowing her father’s hand to fall away from her. Rose turned to away from Damien; the very look of him drained her insides. ‘You’re the reason Mother died...’ Rose’s voice was no more than a whisper. Her head was bowed down, and her shoulders hunched.  ‘No, no Rose...’ Damien cried.
‘You sold my own Mother!’ Rose gasped for breath; she stepped away from him. Damien reached out to grab her hand; Rose felt his touch against her wrist. The single brush of Damien’s finger sent shivers down her spine.  


Rose struggled against his grip. ‘Let go!’ She shrieked. But Damien did not let go, his grip only hardened. ‘You must listen to me, I never planned for it to happen…’ he whispered. ‘I begged, but...’ Damien stopped himself. He raised his head; casting a dark shadow that crept over his face. ‘I’m sorry my darling, I’m so sorry’, his voice was low, almost a murmur. As Damien stepped out from The Shadows, he pulled his arm from behind his back. His hand was clenched in a tight fist, but in his fist into the dying light. In his fist he held a small silver dagger. Rose stepped back, her eyes lingering on the sharp blade. ‘Father,’ Rose pleaded.


Tears slithered down Damien’s white cheeks. He raised the dagger high, and in heartbeat, he bought the blade down and plunged it into Rose’s heart. Rose swayed gently from side to side. Damien stood frozen to where he stood. Rose’s body collapsed to the floor. Damien watched the life leave her eyes, watching till she became nothing more than a pale, empty corpse. The dagger stuck out of her chest, blood seeped through the split, slashed flesh.


‘I had to! I had to...’ Damien repeated these words to himself as he staggered against the damp and decaying wall. He crumpled to the floor, his hands clutching at his face. He began rocking back and forth, repeating the save words, ‘I had to...’ never stopping. Deep, daunting, darkness swallowed any light that remained within the room. Damien remained in the lonely study, but remaining with the rotting corpse...this was the beginning of the promised curse. 

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