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“Well, look no further,” Mrs. Sharp said and grabbed Primrose’s arm, causing her to drop the book. As Primrose looked back, she noticed it had flung open onto the floor, pages sprawled out, “Come now, you must go off to bed.”
The following morning Primrose did as she did every morning. She awoke, ate breakfast, and Mrs. Sharp laced her up. Mrs. Sharp chose a pink low-cut dress with a high waistline. The sleeves were short and puffy, accentuating her slender arms. As Mrs. Sharp lectured Primrose on the importance of looking pretty, she laced the white ribbon on the back, pulling in the dress to show off her petite figure.
Afterward, Primrose met with her Masters and anxiously pondered her upcoming nuptials. However, this morning, Master John-Edward Sharp was out sick with a respiratory illness. Feigning disappointment over the Master’s absence, Primrose informed Mrs. Sharp that she would be in the study next to the library, working on school work in solitude, and was not to be disturbed.
Once Primrose was alone in the west end with her thoughts, she snuck out of the study and into the library. Bile crept up her throat as she saw the tiny, mangled pieces of an animal carcass in the middle of the floor where the book had previously laid. Black plumage and blood splattered the wood in dark stains. Placing her hand over her mouth, Primrose walked past the critter and to the shelf where the book had sat, noticing there was only an empty space. She glanced back at the dead animal, goosebumps gliding up her arms and spine in waves. Bereavement hit Primrose in the chest as she realized it was the raven who had always sat atop her windowsill, her little birdie. She fell to the floor and sobbed, her ragged breaths echoing in the large room.
Primrose spent the remainder of the somber day with her other Masters, and then a few hours in the garden picking roses to boost her mood. However, as a thorn pricked her finger, she watched the blood trickle down her hand in quick droplets. She placed her finger into her mouth and sucked the blood, applying pressure to the tiny wound. The substance tasted metallic, and she enjoyed its peculiar flavor. It was strange and tantalizing, almost magical. Primrose heard a deafening sound coming from the west end of the castle and then promptly dropped onto the solid ground.
“I am glad to see you awake,” said Mrs. Sharp.
“What happened?” Primrose asked, sitting up.
“A groundskeeper found you had fainted in the garden. Seems you have made a habit of fainting. You don’t remember what caused it?”
“No, I do not,” Primrose dimly replied, shaking her head in frustration.
“It must be stress about the matrimony. It is only natural. I will fetch you some tea.” Mrs. Sharp then walked out with great stride.
Primrose rolled her eyes. After changing into nightclothes and consuming her tea, which tasted of peppermint and honey, Primrose drifted asleep.
A horrible creaking sound came from under her bed, startling. She shrieked with horror to find something staring back at her as she leaned down. No, not staring, for the creature did not have eyes. It was a form made of decrepit, peeling skin with hollow grooves where eyesshouldbe.
Its mouth was wide, and it bore large pointy yellowing teeth. It was as if a wolf had skinned a bunch of humans and covered itself in their rotting flesh. Primrose hid under her covers, lying completely still in hopes the creature would forget about her and leave. It did not. She felt a sharp object brush through the blanket and scrape at her thin, pale legs. She tried to stop herself from hyperventilating, but her breaths became shallower as the seconds went by. The scraping continued up her thighs, over her belly, and onto her chest, causing a stinging sensation as it broke through her skin until a giant claw wrapped itself around her neck. She screamed as the disgusting monster towered over her like a menace. The pressure on her neck crushed her windpipe. It was painful and yet surreal. Primrose felt dazed and unable to move. Her eyes were transfixed by the monster looming over her. With the other hand, the creature ripped into Primrose’s chest, tearing her heart out. Blood oozed out of her near-limp body as the screaming slowly faded into quiet whimpers, and then nothing at all. The blood stained the now-dead girl’s sheets, turning the gray bedroom into shades of dark red. She could still see even though she was no longer breathing, no longer alive.
Primrose jolted awake to find a shadowy figure breathing heavily on the edge of her bed. He was different, less ominous.
“Who are you? Am I still dreaming?” she asked as the figure turned, and she saw it was a man of sorts. Shadows swirled in his crimson red eyes as he glanced at her. His skin glowed a divine golden tan. Black locks of hair flowed down his neck, reaching his shoulders. The man’s ears were long and thin with pointed tips, and a silver stud sat on each lobe. His black, deep-cut jacket revealed his bare, muscular chest. It rose and fell with every breath. Primrose could see wisps of smokey shadow coming off of him. He was a dark energy looming over her; his presence drew her in. She blinked, and he was mere inches from her face. Unlike the other monster, Primrose realized that this man was very real. A large hand brushed against her soft jaw as her lips parted. Primrose gasped as the man brought his face even closer to hers.
“Ssh,” he quietly soothed her. “Go back to sleep.”
The man planted a gentle kiss on her lips, and she faded back into darkness.
Chapter Four
Primroseawoketoafeeling she could not describe in any language she knew, Ancient or Modern. It was a feeling of comfort but fear as well. What was the monster in her nightmares? And why did it come for her? Primrose sat up, perplexed. Anxiety heaved up her chest as she recalled the gnarly monster that had tortured her in her sleep. That man…the one who ended her nightmare…Primrose contemplated his beauty and the ominous yet familiar feeling it brought to her. Calming her anxiety, her chest grew warm with hope.
During the remainder of her lessons, Primrose could do nothing but think of the shadow man that put her to sleep the night before. He was beautiful in the way that rain was beautiful—dreary but also calming. Primrose was desperate to see him again.
That night Primrose put on one of her prettiest white nightgowns; It draped off her shoulders. She gracefully stepped towards the mirror, admiring her supple chest. The fabric was shearer than most clothing Primrose was accustomed to, but she looked at herself and smiled, admiring her own beauty. The waist of the gown cinched in, and Primrose exuded confidence as she posed in front of the mirror. A blush formed on her face as she thought of the man she was waiting for. The mirror began to fog until shadow enveloped her once more.
“Good evening, my starling,” the man’s voice rang deep and smooth.
He came up behind her and placed a hand on her waist; placing the other on her arm, he kissed down her neck. His black jacket was open and cut in a deep V. It had silver swirls decorating the dark material and small tatters from some form of fighting. Smoke flew around him in wisps. His red eyes met hers in the mirror as she gasped and opened them. Primrose started to push him off her gently.
“Hello there. My name is Primrose,” her voice shook. “And I am innocent and…betrothed to marry another, so you better—” Primrose stopped herself, nearly fainting again. The man caught her by the waist, holding her steady.
“I better what? I know who you are, and you are not so innocent.”
“Who are you? And more importantly, what are you?” She breathed heavily.
“I am what your kind might consider a demon.”
“Might consider? Are you, or are you not a demon? Are you going to kill me?” Primrose tensed, feeling his presence looming over her.
“You’re a curious thing, aren’t you? No, I am not here to kill you; I am hereforyou. You clearly got ready for me. I wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty little dress of yours.”
Primrose blushed and froze, confused about what the man wanted.
