3 Fairy of Love

Those two weeks in the cellar were supposed to be akin to hell for Mary. Moldy bread and dirty water was all she had to live off of down in the cellar. The frigid cold had pelted her body every day, in fact it was a miracle she had not succumbed to the cold. Yet, in reality, it was no miracle. Her profound hatred had kept her warm, and unbeknownst to her she had changed. Her precious blue eyes had become a sinister red fueled by an intense bloodlust.

"Soon, soon I'll have your head, it'll be such a pleasing sensation to hold your disgusting head in my small hands. It would be this body's first reward for winning a game, and it's, so, so exciting! In fact, I'll use it as a centerpiece for when I get a home of my own! I want to burn your skin while you cry in anguish, I'll take your eyes so you can see me from a new light. I want you to feel more and more pain as my game progresses, until not even the devil himself could cause more pain." These thoughts comforted her and fueled her rage more and more.

Anticipation crawled over her like a spider on its web. She would just love to begin her games now. However, what could she do? She was still far weaker than her "mother" in terms of physical strength, so pathetic in fact was her strength in comparison that it was like a man trying to fight a rhino with only his bare hands. But the thing is, when the hunter is prepared, the hunt isn't so difficult.

Mary thought to herself, "the river would be my best bet for a weapon to carve into my prey, plenty of trash is thrown into those disgusting waters, so it seems likely that there'd be some kind of knife or better yet a sword to kill her quickly."

With this revelation the sweet laughter of a child gave the disgusting room an air of innocence, yet her wide smile that seemed to be full of jagged dagger-like teeth, her crimson red eyes, the way her nails dug into the floorboards. It could terrify a grown man.

Her sweet laughter, combined with the slight lighting, gave birth to the appearance of a fairy on the wall, a fairy of death that was ready to take flight. Her wings were the webs that had wrapped themselves over her arms, her mystical dress was no more than just a plain shirt and skirt with patches of deep red stains. Along the silhouette on the wall was her arms that formed a reapers scythe in tandem with her nails. As she continued her fantasies and laughter a sudden rattling of the lock to the cellar brought her back to her senses.

"Mary! Are you all right? I'm so sorry I had to punish you like this but please understand, I'm only doing this because I care so much about you my sweet little princess." Said her mother. "Perhaps I made the child go insane," thought the old lady as she had heard her laughter.

Mary greeted her "mother" with a voice that sounded as if it was full of regret and sadness, "Mom I'm so sorry I worried you so much, I'll try extra hard to make it up to you and I promise that I'll be more careful from now on!" Crocodile tears rolled down her face as she thought to herself, "Sorry? I'm so glad you're a liar as well, it makes it that much easier to hate you!"

"Very well, I'll hold you accountable to that statement my sweet, little, Mary." Said the woman, wiping away Mary's tears. "So you've already fully accepted me as your mother haven't you? Like a leech you'll keep sticking to me, but at least you're a leech of gold." Thought the old lady to herself.

"Yes, Mom!" Said Mary. "Just you wait you greedy, sickening bastard, your head will roll onto the grass as I claw slowly into your liver." thought Mary while laughing sinisterly in her head. "And I'll make sure the weapon I use is rusty so that you suffer more than you've made me suffer."

And so while the two finished reconciling Mary's eyes once again turned back the the blue she had before. Many would say the two were both fools in their own respective ways, but with both working for their own interests they never felt more wise, no more intelligent. With their plans in hand, the showdown for victory would commence soon.

However, as life would have it, not all plans work. In fact, some work so well no words could describe the joy of utter success and domination.