Becoming the Priestess of Death(creepypasta) - by Siran

Becoming the Priestess of Death

Chapter One: Getting to know Siran

            Siran Melantha. The name given to a girl with seemingly little to give back. It is translated to Beautiful Dark Flower. Most people that knew of the translation to her name found it quite ironic. They could not see how such a weird girl, how such a freak, could get the name of flower.

            Siran was thirteen when something seen as tragic happened. She was thrown into a world so unknown and un-real to most people without any warning. She felt alone before it all happened, and even more so after she became disconnected to the world of humans.

            Come here and let me tell you the story of Siran Melantha-the story that she cannot tell:

           

            Siran’s 13th birthday…this was when it all started. There was nothing really special about the day. To her, it felt like just another day-her parents were practically ignoring her, her grandparents were making excuses as to why they wouldn’t make it, and she was up in her room playing with the few toys she had…alone.

            Her day was average, there was no doubt about that, but her night…ah yes. That night would be one that she would never forget. Those terrible nightmares. That night, so dark, so dreadful, she dreamt. Her dreams were of dying. She was not dying, oh no, others were. The worst part of it all, she didn’t recognize any of them. She couldn’t help them! She was helpless-they were dying and there was nothing she could do.

            Siran couldn’t handle it anymore-she had woken up before the light of the sun could touch the earth. The sky was still shadowed over with the familiar obscurity of nightfall. She was now sitting up in her bed and facing the window on the side of her room. And that’s when she saw it. She saw something. Just barely at the corner of her almost ice blue eyes, she saw nothing but a mere shadow of a figure. Her head turned swiftly so that her gaze could fall upon what this shadow really was, to see who or what this intruder was… But, as her eyes met where she had thought she had seen it, she saw nothing. The intruder was gone. She now glanced at only the vague dimmed part of her room…she was now looking at nothing…

Siran was rarely a happy girl, most times a sad girl, and just about all the time she was a lonely girl. She was often shunned at school by her peers for being different, but she didn’t like being alone. Since no one would be her friend, she would create her own friends. She made “imaginary” friends. For some reason, they always had a sad story. More than often, she forgot the stories and the characters, but there was always one that she never forgot-the saddest story of them all. A young boy, only a few years older than herself, and his tragic ending.

She related easily to this young boy-his outcast personality, parents that paid little attention to him, and the constant unwanted paranormal problems. Siran saw this boy as her best friend, and in most cases, her only friend. Sometimes, she would even see him in her dreams. She knew very fast that he will play a large role in her life, but she never expected what was going to happen next.

Seven days after her 13th birthday, only one week after she saw that shadow, she saw much more than just a faded figure… She had gotten up in the middle of the night, and walked into the hallway making her way to the restroom…and that’s when she saw it… Only five feet in front of her was a figure of seemingly pure blackness. This… thing… was attached to the floor-both knees planted hardly onto the rug that separated the hall from the living room, it’s toes were digging into the carpet of the hall, and it’s hands seemed to be holding onto its stomach, but there was no way to tell for it was facing away from her. She could hear whatever it was breathing. The sound had sent shivers down her spine. It was loud, but had a cold tone to it, and it seemed to drop off at the end before it took another breath.