Part 1

Dawn came with an array of pinks and purples against an orange backdrop, a signal for perfectly timed yawns and tired eyes to close. The majority adhered to this law of nature, most but a group of rebels who made the night their playground. This cluster of nonconformists lived on the fringes of society, excelling in the glory of shadows. Those elongated specters of beautiful extremes and layers, a creature whose features were a detriment, existed.
Black leathery wings whose veins and bones stuck out indelicately, limply hanging on its sides with a leisurely defeat. Fur sprouting in contrast over the rest of its frame, daring to deepen the chasm with brown instead of the traditional. A splendid mass of objectionable vulgarity served as a face, a strange assortment of features mashed together. Two ears pointed and cursed with gigantism grew from its head with comedic cruelty.
This carbon copy of every other was named Kat. She remained a spectacularly similar replica in all aspects but one. A defining feature that seeped the life from the tiny creature, maliciously tearing at any bright spot and obliterating the source. Each day, while the others retired to the safe harbors of their imaginations, those winding pathways of either glittering ceramics or mud, safely in the comfort of their wings. During this peaceful interlude, Kat rested on the edges of the cave. She watched the waning day longingly as the world of her dreams faded. These actions and desperations defined her every inkling or thought. In contrast, her nights were filled with dangling lollipops and sweet fibs to combat her reality, a lovely fantasy. A rollercoaster at its peak before taking a downward turn.
One day, a rumor landed in her ear, landing with a pop and planting itself to sprout instantly. A weed that grew nonsensically, spurring her imagination and fueling a crazed momentum. A whirlwind of snippets lacking details, essential pieces of the puzzle missing.
In the corners of society where the lowest slipped and sunk, a creature of lousy behavior occupied a cave. This dredge, called Drusilla, was infamous for all the wrong reasons beyond petty indiscretions. No, this eccentric claim was its ability to make anything happen. Its means beyond the realm of shady businesses. All the feeble-minded loafers looking for an easy route were easy targets. This kernel of gossip squatted in the back of her mind when something caught her attention one morning amid her daily pinning. It altered her mindset from a simple yearning to desperation, strictly being the stoic individual.
A ladybug crept across the ground with an ineffectual pair of bifocals and a cane, a toothy grin pulling at the wrinkled face. The distance between reality and its happiness displaced its mind as absentminded chaos controlled her face.
This sight kickstarted Kat’s appetite as the walking beefsteak disappeared from view. A dear and fleeting bit of perfection tainting the world with the cruel memory. The tainting allure left a nasty trail of lamentation behind.
All day, her dreams churned into nightmares, shadows disappearing beyond her reach, an intangible fantasy. A racing heart propelled her into consciousness, serving a heaping dose of her circumstances.
The next night, Kat rushed from the cave. She rummaged through the forest, degrading basic needs to nothing more than pests. Kat’s stomach pleaded and begged for respite, only to be taunted by her objective. Until she chanced upon a cave, a massive deterrent cropping up without subtly.
“what brings you to my abode?” a voice said with a southern twang as she stepped into the darkness—two specs glowed in the dark suddenly, their iridescence a distinct kind of terror. Straightening her shoulders, Kat began.
“You can make things happen?!” the words slung forward in a slurred and rushed way, a stitched-together mess nearly fumbled. Her muddled thought process was in action as every desire fought for dominance.
“Yes,” the simple and drawn-out syllable instantly overrode by the forthcoming diatribe, more obnoxious than detailed as it hoped around. It turned into a mediocre speech about nothing and everything at once, an awkward silence announcing its end.
“Is that all?” the edge of sarcasm completely wasted on Kat. Its perfect execution couldn’t compete with her self-absorption. “If I give you what you want, you must give me something I want,” the faulty alarm bells in her brain failed at the pivotal moment. “And what I want is your soul,” the words hardly made a dent or captured the weight of the situation, not even taking a moment to reflect, raise questions, or even weigh the consequences.
Instantly, Kat nodded as simple-minded focus struck. “You will have one day.”
The next moment, a scroll appeared in midair, unfurling around Kat as it glowed. It ended right before her eyes, a self-sufficient upstart as a pen materialized. An ostentatious mess in gold plating, a thick bolstering casing without the benefit of a thin frame. It opportunely hovered over the line she was to sign. And without fail, she placed her mark. The next second, the scroll poofed out of existence, replaced by a bubbling pink liquid.
“One day,” the voice said, a fading laugh attached to the end. Kat downed the contents.
A tongue-twisting disaster seared a trail down her throat, morphing into a gut-wrenching pain that drove away sense with all-consuming force.