"Smile with me Kilei... Smile and scream with us tonight... We've missed you... Little killer!"
I swear to fucking god. It's fucking Vissal; the girl that's always in my memories of my pre-pentagram-burn childhood.
She was always smiling,
but it was a smile that would make a soul turn black and wither away.
Tall figures with long cloaks hung in silk hammocks that never rocked.
Large mirrors covered the corners of the triangle room, but not so much so that you couldn't walk behind the mirrors. A wicked little laugh echoed from one corner; as you get closer it sounds more like screeching, and finally you see it;
A little knights helmet.
If you were foolish enough to open it, you would see a little girl staring at a large black circle with a white smiling mouth and eyes.
It called her Vissal.
I was the one fool who opened the helmet. "Smiles! Grins! Look!" She shrieked, following the face.
All the elders watched in horror as she rushed out of the room into the hall.
I don't remember what led up to this memory, or what exactly happened after, but I remembered, and it hurt, so it must be real.
I was still laying in bed; Tigger curled up around my arm. It was surely my imagination... there was no laughter coming from the hall. It doesn't exist. I'm ok. I'm ok.
I turn over and cuddle Tigger softly to my chest. My phone lights up; it's a text from an unknown number that reads, "smiles all around!"
I threw the phone at the wall, covered my head with the blanket, and reminded myself: I have no soul.
I need not be afraid. I cannot be afraid.
I am dead.
YOU ARE READING
The dead are rich but the living are poor
General FictionBasically a fiction about self discovery. (So original right) but listen, There's a lot more things being discovered than you'd think. The gist: The main character has no soul. Loves coffee. Hates people. Have fun.
