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Fall from Grace - Excerpt Written by Katt McConnell |
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Please note that this excerpt contains elements that may not be child-friendly. Read at your own risk. She was naked. And she was falling. The air was freezing as it rushed passed her. Somehow, it was also silent. No rush of wind filled her ears though she knew it should be. The quietude disturbed her much more than the fall. She didn't know how she had fallen, nor from how high, nor out of what. Above her there was only a bright blue sky. Now and then a wisp of cloud would drift by. No clue to how she had become so imperiled was afforded to her. Out of curiosity, she craned her head around to look behind her. The ground with still quite a ways off, which was good. It gave her some time, at least. She didn't remember ever having fallen from this high up before, and imagined that the aftermath—for which she could possibly be fully conscious—would be unpleasant in the least. As she fell further, she could see the ground clearer. There was nothing but darkness in every direction. The occasional tiny orange spot—fire, she realized—punctured the dark. The place looked like the remnants of many a battlefield she had seen. She thought that above her, the sky took on the slightest yellow overcast. She tried to roll over in midair to get a better view of the ground, only to find herself pinioned. The fall itself did not overly concern her. The impact would be unpleasant, but not more than inconvenient. Not being able to move in midair, now that concerned her. All at once, she found she was not alone. The sudden appearance of her companion made her cry out in alarm. It was especially disconcerting not only because the being on top of her was the one restraining her, but because of who—or what—that being was. "Hello, Yang," purred the entity. She grinned smugly, showing off her pointed teeth. Mirthless creases formed at the corners of eyes that were sullen embers. Her slender hands, tipped with black and yellow talons, gripped Yang's wrists up by her head. Yang was further restrained at the waist by the entity's thighs, for she was straddling her captive as they fell. The entity bound her as if they were on something solid rather than falling through the air. Yang looked up at her companion's shadow-splotched face and dredged a name out of her subconscious. "Morygryn." She did not know why, but that name made her quake with fear in the most private reaches of her mind. As if the entity's physical appearance weren't disturbing enough, something about that name was just disgusting. The entity's grin widened even more. "So there is enough of your conscious mind here to remember me. Good." In the strangely quiet air, Yang noted a disconcerting hollow quality to the entity's voice. She shuddered, repulsed by every new aspect of this Morygryn being that came to her attention. Yang gazed up at her for the longest time. There was something pulling on her focus. She didn't know… Sleep. That was it. She was asleep. Her sleeping mind was trying to pull her further under. This was all only a dream. That made her feel much better. She wasn't really falling. She didn't really have Morygryn perched on top of her and holding her down. They weren't actually having a conversation—which was good, because it would mean that Morygryn had found a way to invade her subconscious. Surely now this would become a lucid dream, and Morygryn would disappear and be replaced by something much more pleasant. Yang waited. And waited. Morygryn grinned down at her, showing more teeth than should have been physically possible. She stretched her back without altering her posture very much. Every curve of her body exuded dangerous sexuality. It wasn't often that she had her host in such a vulnerable position, and she was obviously enjoying herself. Yang started to worry that this version of Morygryn was a little too close to the real thing for this to only be a dream. The personality was too spot on. The strength in those slender hands was too familiar, for it was her own. Even Morygryn's wings, large, black, and leathern, were too detailed, too familiarly shaped. Yang never had dreams this realistic. "You're right," came the hollow voice, "This is too realistic for it to just be a dream." The demon leveled a smoldering glance at her captive. "That would be because it isn't, dear Yang. I'm not just inside of your head anymore. I've found a way into your subconscious. And you won't be able to stop me from coming and going as I please like you can when you're awake." Her voice was haunting, somehow managing to sound both like Yang's own and the hiss of burning things all at once. There was a new element to the voice now—a strange undercurrent Yang couldn't quite make out. When Morygryn said one thing, it almost sounded as if she were somehow quietly shouting other things at the same time. The sound lent an air of violent madness to Morygryn's voice. It made Yang afraid of her all over again. Whether or not she could get Morygryn to leave, Yang knew she was dreaming now and slipped into lucidity automatically. "What do you mean?" she asked. Morygryn's proclamation was so much to process at once, it was all that Yang could think to ask. "I mean, I am not a figment of your subconscious. I am really here. And I have a message for you." All at once Yang felt her closeness, her body heat. A wave of pent up sexuality washed over her, alluring and sickening at the same time. Morygryn had been kept in the prison of Yang's mind for too long. It was starting to show. The fact that the demon lived in Yang's mind was one of the things that worried her the most. Morygryn was privy to all of Yang's innermost thoughts, her darkest desires, her most ruinous secrets. Another of Yang's primary concerns was that Morygryn was one of the most charismatic beings she knew. Those two facts, combined with Morygryn's presence in her subconscious, frightened her beyond describing. The demon leaned in close to Yang's ear, her unbound breasts hanging heavily against her chest. The blaze that was Morygryn's hair tickled against Yang's cheek. "You don't know it yet," the demon whispered, her voice smug, "but you are going to fall." Morygryn leaned back again. "I know you want to. You're tired of always fighting for what is right. You want to indulge those guilty fantasies of yours." Hazy images flashed across Yang's inner eye. There was blood, screaming, heat. She blocked them out as she always did. It only made Morygryn smile. "You and I are too alike, whether you'll ever admit it or not. Together we would have the power to do anything we wanted. You won't join me—not yet, anyway. But don't worry." Morygryn freed one of Yang's wrists to stroke her cheek. "I know how to break you." All at once, the wind rushed into Yang's ears and drowned everything else out. Marynda bolted upright in bed with a gasp. Her body was covered in sweat, yet she was shivering. She put a shaking hand to her forehead, trying to recall what had startled her so. Could it have been a dream? Maybe one of the cats had knocked a pot off the stove. Willing her heart to slow down, she slung her feet over the side of the bed. It would be no use trying to get back to sleep after that. |