I was sitting by a fire in a huge, pitch black forest. The trees were a charcoal black and they were dripping with this deep, black tar that dropped lazily from the branches, settling with a pat on the ground. They stood around me, tall and thick and evil and twisted, like silent, watchful guardians, as if knowing something was going to happen.
Well. Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.
I heard a noise behind me, like a soft footstep. Then, the campfire went out, as if blown out just by a mere breath. I hugged myself, pulling up the sleeves of my hoodie, trembling. Fear filled my body like ice-cold water.
A thin shape slithered up to me, towering over me, looking down at me. Dark suit and tie suspended from the collar of a white dress shirt, and shiny black shoes. A pale white-skinned head, but no face, although I could see a crack where the mouth should be, small pits where his eyes would be, and the slight definition of a nose. Black hands, as if covered by gloves, but they weren't gloves, with sharpened claw-like fingernails. Thin, black tendrils protruding form its back caressing the air lazilly. It gazed at me, tilting its head to the side, and my heart began to pound to a Nightcore rhythm.
"Do you know why little girls are afraid of the dark?" he asked. His voice rasped and crackled like dead leaves, sounding like a modern gentleman's, yet with a twisted, demonic tinge to it.
"No.... Please...." I begged. He towered over me, reaching out a hand to rub against the side of my neck and up to my cheek.
"It's because I can find them in the dark."
With that, he lunged for me.
I danced out of his path and took off running. Every time I looked back, he was right behind me, grasping the trees with the appendages from his back to pull himself along. And he was only walking. I thought I would have to run forever.
Suddenly, my foot gave way and I tripped, falling to the ground, scraping my knees and palms. As I focused on biting back chokes of agony, he reached for me, his long black tendrils curling around my elbows and knees, wrists and ankles, my neck, my torso. I was then lifted into the air. I thrashed and kicked, but to no avail. I was helpless, and the grip was vice-tight.
"I will not hurt you, as long as you don't give me reason to," he promised, leaning in close, reaching a tendril out to caress my cheek. I shuddered.
"What do you want from me?!" I panted, trying hard not to let him hear the fear in my voice.
"You. Just you." he opened the now visible mouth, a dripping, gaping maw. Before I could react, our lips met, and he kissed me gently, the essence of death and enchantment hovering near his lips. I instantly stopped struggling. His kiss was like a sweet poison that some people can't resist getting a taste of.
By the time our lips parted, I was limp as a ragdoll, panting for breath. I looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, unable to find the strength to keep them up anymore. The body which held me in its tendrils split apart, revealing a tarry black dripping shape, as black as the trees. I screamed in terror, provoking him to tighten his hold on me, desperately trying to keep me with him.
I sobbed and begged for mercy, but my pleas fell upon deaf ears. He was without pity, laying a tendril across my mouth, then wrapping it around my head to cut off my screams. He brought my now trembling body closer to his own, pressing me to his heart. It didn't sound like a human heart. It was too slow to be a human's, like the clunk of ancient wooden gears.
Silently, his tongue lolled out of his mouth and slithered below my neckline, trailing a cold, wet, trail. I shuddered, feeling too frightnened to fight any longer. I was completely numb to all but my emotions and sensations.
"There is nothing to fear," he whispered softly, "but fear itself."
I sobbed soflty in reply. He stroked my back gently, warmly, then my hair. It felt promising, like the hushed voice of a lover. This gave me some comfort, but not much. He still wasn't finished with me. He nudged my head upwards gently with a tendril, slithering it over my jawline, relaxing it, and prompting me to look at his face. Gingerly, I raised my face to gaze into his.
I regretted ever doing so.
The only feature on his face was his mouth. The beastly, grisly sight burned itself into my brain. He seemed to savor my fear, for each time I shuddered, the tendrils would coil tighter ever so slightly.
I whimpered weakly, giving up the tempation to resist any longer. I couldn't fight. I was bound, and the first kiss had drained me of most of my energy.
He took it as an opportunity to somehow soothe me. He removed the tendril in front of my mouth and relaxed the tendrils around me slightly so that I could breathe a little easier. I welcomed the steady stream of air I couldn't get with the tendrils constricting me. I was grateful for that.
Then, very gently, he raised his hand to my cheek. It brushed away the tears that were left, the cold fngers fluttering over my face like the gentle beat of a moth's wings. I shuddered as they chilled my burning face. I closed my eyes.
"Sleep now, child."
Then he leaned forward to give me one last kiss, a long, gentle, loving kiss.
When I opened my eyes, he was gone, and I had woke up.
I had woke up with scrapes on my knees and palms, and with pressure marks all over me.