Journey to the other side

                                                                                    Journey to the other side
                                                                                              494 words


Debra sat at the table, her supper plate untouched.  Her parents sat at opposite ends of the table eating in silence, watching her.  The afternoon light faded through the windows, casting shadows across the room and into dark pools that collected in the corners.

Debra sat there thinking of the last several days.  It started at Lisa’s party last weekend.  David brought a book with him; it was old with a dark leather cover and thousands of thick yellow pages inside.  He had promised us a good time.

“Debra, you need to start getting more sleep at night,” her mother told her. “You look like death warmed over.”

Debra’s lip curled to one side leaving an evil grin.  “Yes mother.”

Inside the black book, there were rituals on how to conjure demons.  At the time, it seemed as nothing had worked, but later that night the dreams started.  She had been floating in a sea of people; skin on skin no part of her body was untouched.  It felt strange but at the same time she was excited.  She could hear everyone moaning her name in a singular voice.

The second night it turned strange. The dream started the same, but the moans turned to cries of anguish.  The bodies melted into a sea of thick blood; her eyes stung as the blood washed over her and it felt heavy in her mouth with every breath she took.  When she awoke, her bed was drenched in sweat; she could still hear the cries with a lone voice beneath them calling her name.

The voice told Debra how her friends were going to betray her; she was going to be the sacrifice to the demon, and the demon was her one true friend, it would never turn on her.  They could be one, and she could get her revenge on all of those who turned their backs on her.  They would pay.
 
“Did you hear your mother,” her father asked.

Debra picked up the butcher knife from the platter of roast beef.  She ran her thumb across it gently watching the small trickle of blood ooze out.

“Debra,” her mom yelled, as she got up.

Something pushed her back down holding her tight in the chair, and her father too was bound to his chair.
 
The voice whispered to Debra.

The evil grin returned to Debra.  “Watch this.”  She gripped the knife in her hand and pulled it quickly cutting through her skin and tendons.  Thick red blood bathed the table, as Debra laughed.  She turned her hand around to inspect the wound; blood gushed from the cut, she ran her tongue along the gouge left behind by the knife.  She could already feel the wound healing itself.

Her voice became a thick growl as she spoke, “don’t look for me, or the next time you see your precious Debra she’ll be a broken pile of bones.”  She got up, “I have some friends to see.”