Darkness Becomes Her

I've noticed a theme in my writing. No matter what topic, what characters...no matter how lighthearted the story begins, there is always a touch of darkness in my writing. Even in DRAGON QUEEN, a story told from the POV of a girl who has a wry sense of humor and a pretty positive outlook on life, dark things happen. Bad things happen. And before the story ends, there is more than a struggle between the MC and the villain...there's that struggle with darkness.

Strange. I guess I'm a bit obsessed with darkness. And yet...I'm reluctant to embrace it. Maybe it's because the things I enjoy reading are not all that dark. I like to read things that amuse me and make me laugh. But then I write these dark, twisted stories where the characters are tormented and struggling. It happens unintentionally and that's given me a bit to muse upon.

Huh.

Even my short stories have a touch of darkness...and apparently I'm good at the darkness. More than being funny or clever, I can paint a bleak and black canvas. I was going through some of my stories that had been collecting dust and ALL of them contain that dark element. Even the ones that are meant to be funny have a sort of dark humor to them.

But, anyways, I thought I would share some of my darkness with my devoted readers. ;) This is a scene I wrote for fun involving the villain in my novel FURY. It is where Yalei becomes the Devourer. Yes, it's very dark and since I don't plan to use it in the novel, it is for your pleasure alone. Enjoy!

I never loved you.

The words peeled Yalei apart, baring her soul to the encroaching darkness of the mountains. Jagged peaks scraped at the sky, and an ominous mist seethed from the crevices like the breath of a beast. The evil taint in the air no longer had the power to frighten her away. She invited it in, turning her back on a world of light. There was nothing for her there. Not anymore.

She had come here to die.

The Dark Mountains did not promise a gentle death, but peace was not what she wanted. Peace was not what the dreamscape had whispered. The susurrus had promised something far more appealing:

Revenge.

She knelt on the rocky ground. It bit into her skin, already eager for her blood. But it would have to wait for the Devourer. That demon was the only one she would allow to spill her blood tonight.

As if her thoughts summoned it, she felt its presence. A formless shadow, it unfolded from the mountains and glided toward her. Its former host lay abandoned by a boulder, already crumbling to a heap of colorless ash. Flakes of it swept by Yalei’s upturned face, caught in her long black hair. She didn’t cringe away from the foul flecks, but waited.

The misty darkness surrounded her. Its damp touch hearkened a grave. She fought not to shudder, to recoil from the tainted caress.

This was what she wanted.

You came.

That same seductive whisper that had haunted the dreamscapes, calling her, coaxing her into nightmarish planes and, finally, to this place. Sibilant, like a thousand snakes hissing.

“Yes.”

I can feel your pain. So deep. So engrained in your soul.

She closed her eyes, but a tear slipped free.

Do you want it to stop?

The mist pressed her cheek, taking away the moisture and replacing it with a venomous film that pried into her soul. She opened her eyes.

“No, I want them to hurt, too.”

Good. The mist enveloped her. It crawled over her exposed skin, beneath her clothing, into her eye sockets.

Give yourself to me. Together, we will give them everything they deserve.

“And more,” she rasped.

It filled her throat, choking her words of acceptance. It didn’t need her vocal permission. It knew what was in her soul. She cried out. The Devourer drowned the sound, pouring itself into her like filth into an exposed wound. It spread through her veins, thrummed in her shuddering heart, pulsed in her brain. A part of her soul shrank from the onslaught. The Devourer chewed at it.

Yalei screamed.

Her eyes widened. Her throat constricted.

Don’t fight it, the Devourer hissed.

She gritted her teeth, forcing her body to relax, to accept death. Agony ripped through her. She arched. A scream strangled in her throat, and she died.