"We all have a Monster within; the difference is in degree, not in kind."
~ Douglas Preston (The Monster of Florence)
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"Papa?" Blue whispered in disbelief.
The man in front of her tilted his head ever so slightly, studying her. He smiled but it only alarmed Blue. It was a cold, thin smile, nothing like what she had expected. There was not a hint of warmth in it. But his eyes held amusement in them, along with something like...victory?
"Who are you?" Blue asked, her voice choked. No, this man wasn't her papa. He looked like him, yes. But, no way, could this person be him. Where was the person who had written her letters in a diary? Where was the person who had yearned for her Ma's smile?
"I'm your father, Blue," the man said, his voice deep and grating at her like sandpaper. The glee in his voice was barely veiled and Blue knew he was lying. She shivered, not liking the way her name rolled in his tongue – more like a snake hissing than actual human words.
She hadn't seen a lot of her papa as a child but the few memories she did have...none could explain what he had become now. She vaguely remembered curling her hand on his pinkie as they went on a walk. Or the way he had smiled at her when he had entered through the door of their house, still in his uniform and clutching a small suitcase of his belongings, after long months in the sea. Blue had helped him out his shoes too.
Such mundane memories, and yet so precious.
"No." Blue shook her head vigorously. "No! You're not him! What did you do to him?!"
He only chuckled, sadistically pleased by her hysterics. Blue was ready to lunge at him and wrap her tiny hands on his large neck and maybe even tackle him to the ground – if only the man behind her would let her go! But, no, he held her tightly, making any sort of movement impossible.
"There's no need to fight, my Blue. Do not resist," the man-who-was-not-her-papa said.
Blue stilled when he said 'my Blue', her thoughts spiraling to Miracle. Where was he? Was he even safe? Abruptly, as those thoughts occupied her, all the fight disappeared from her body. Despair shrouded her. And she could only look at the man before her in sudden defeat.
"Where are you, Papa?" she whispered, tears forming on her eyes.
Maybe she imagined it but, for a split second, something flashed through his eyes – something almost human before the coldness took over again. But it was enough to give her hope.
"Unfortunately, Blue, you were right," the man began, sneering. "I am not your father. Although, I must say, he provides for an excellent host."
Blue's nostrils flared. "What did you do to him?" she screeched, her voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Who are you?"
The man threw her a chilling smirk. "Why, I thought it'd be obvious by now. I'm Evil, of course."
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It was the clammy, uncomfortable feeling of dampness that woke up Miracle. His eyes snapped open and he hurriedly sat up, looking down on his clothes that were soaking. He struggled to remember what had happened. The ship...they had separated...and then...then...he was drowning, wasn't he? He remembered the feel of it, the way his breath had cut-off, the way his body had screamed for oxygen as water vengefully cascaded all around him.
And Blue, where was she? What had Warren done to her? And Sherry! Those traitorous people he had thought of as friends! Gah! He should be ashamed of himself.
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Miracle
Fantasy[COMPLETE] Twelve-year-old Blue was a dreamer and a believer of all things impossible. But even her all-encompassing imagination could never have thought that miracles were not just something that happened. No, how was she to know that Miracle was a...
