Fluffy Cookies
Angelic Demon
Emma stares at Fox’s hand. He tried to kill them. He wanted to kill them. She sits up and swats his hand out of the way. Everything hurt like hell. Her hand, her side, and her head, but she got up anyways, no help. As she limped and he walked, Fox glances at her repeatedly. She had nothing to say to him. Emma didn’t know what to say. The silence was making Fox nervous for it was uncomfortable.
“Say something, please,” he urged her. Emma looked at him.
“What do you want me to do?” She asked. “Do you want me to apologize for throwin’ a book and pointin’ a firearm at you ugly mug? I hate to break it to ya, bud, but I’m not sayin’ ‘sorry’ for self defense. You attacked us, not the other way around.”
“Well, I’m sorry I thought you were dead,” he said sarcastically.
“You only perceived what was happening to Tom and George with a fixed mindset of me being dead too.” She growled at him. “You didn’t notice my body was nowhere to be found? OH! How about that our ENTIRE family is made up of Paranormals? Did you ever think of that when you found out that I was one?”
“What?” Fox says as he stopped walking.
“Yeah, you hypocrite, you were killing your own kind!” She yelled at him. “You nearly ran over my best friend! Then you shot both of them, Ben got shot twice! How could you be so sadistic? I’d be lucky if they aren’t dead from jumping out of that train after me.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know you were my sister at the time! I only knew that you were a Paranormal and that I had to kill you because Paranormals killed my family.” Fox fired back.
“You shouldn’t be killing people at all!”
“But it’s an eye for an eye!” He said, on the brink of tears. “They wore black cloaks and masks.” There was a pause, and Emma was dumbfounded.
“Fox,” she said softly, “those weren’t just Paranormals. They were Malevolents.”
“Malevolents?”
“They’re the Ku Klux Klan of Paranormality,” she explains.
“Oh my God I’m such an idiot!” Fox groaned, putting his face in his hands. Suddenly, a rock comes flying over the dead bushes and hits Fox in the head. “OW!” Emma’s two friends show themselves at last. Benjamin was holding another rock in his left hand. He swayed as if he were drunk. Andrew tried to hold him up but he waved him off. Ben falls forward after another moment and Fox catches him.
Emma began to panic. Her breathing began to get heavy as thoughts ran through her mind: He’s lost too much blood; They were too far from any town; It’s the middle of winter; He’s not gonna make it! Her head began to hurt even more now.
“Emma, calm down, we’re gonna be fine,” Andrew tried to convince her. She wasn’t calming down. She couldn’t. The stress and pain was too much. Everything goes black.
It was dark. The darkest night they’ve had in a long while. Fox was inside with their mother, getting blankets for a camp out, and Emily was outside with her father and other brothers watching the stars. Emma was the youngest of the four. It wouldn’t be for too much longer. In about a month or so, she’d be a big sister. She was only three years old. Fox was five, and the twins were four.
“Folix!” Emily calls toward the house, but no one answered. Faster than she’s ever seen anyone move before, men in black cloaks and menacing masks grab the twins and mutilated them in front of her. She screams, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her father struggles with another one of the cloaked men as a gunshot rang out from the house. “FOLIX!” Emily shrieks before her world goes dark.
Emma inhales sharply as she wakes up. She finds herself in a queen-sized bed, wrapped and bandaged up. A fire roared in a hearth at the end of the bed. Andrew sat in a chair on the side closest to her. His left shoulder was bandaged up. He was leaning forward with his elbows on the mattress and his head in his hands. There were a few cuts, fresh ones, on his face. A big, red scratch spread across his right cheek like a crack in porcelain. Emma reaches forward and touches it gently.
“Ah,” Andrew hissed, retracting in pain. A mumbled apology was all she could muster in response as she began to sit herself up. Her entire body exploded in pain. “Hey, hey, hey, lay back down! You’ll tear out your stitches.”
“Stitches?!” Emma exclaimed. He hushed her as he helped her lay back down.
“Fox had to get some too,” he replied, “you guys got really cut up from jumping out of the train. Your hand will scar up badly. Not so much your side though.” Emma glances at her right hand. Her palm was bandaged up tightly.
“Where are we?” Emma questions, looking around.
“We are at your childhood home, supposedly,” he answered. That was odd. She hasn’t been here in a very long time. Fourteen years to be exact.
“How’s Ben?” She asked.
“He’s completely fine, surprisingly,” Andrew tells her. “Willow took the bullet out of his and my shoulders. Once she did that, he shifted and healed completely.” She nods.
“That’s good,” she says, “who’s Willow?”
“She was Fox’s formerly enslaved witch-servant, but he freed her once he got us here.” He explains. This confused Emma but she passed it off as magic. “Once she saw you, she recognized you. I could tell by the look on her face.” Emma knew her name. She knew it. But from where? The door opens and in steps a girl with blonde hair and a raggedy dress. She had blue eyes and a kind smile. Emma remembers.
“Willow? Willow Lynn?” Emma questions, tears forming in her eyes. The two were best friends back in Rochester. Ever since Emma left, it was hard to send letters and return them because they were so young. Willow carefully wrapped her arms around Emma’s shoulders, hugging her without hurting her.
“I missed you so much,” Willow smiled.
“How long have I been out?” Emma asked.
“A few days and not much more,” her friend replies, “your brother was worried about you. He’s missed you a lot since that day.”
“Well, I’m really tired right now, again I know, but I need my sleep,” Emma said. “I’ll see you all in a few more hours, alright?” Andrew and Willow nodded and left the room. The seventeen year old lays her head back onto her pillow and drifts back to sleep. She was home.
“Say something, please,” he urged her. Emma looked at him.
“What do you want me to do?” She asked. “Do you want me to apologize for throwin’ a book and pointin’ a firearm at you ugly mug? I hate to break it to ya, bud, but I’m not sayin’ ‘sorry’ for self defense. You attacked us, not the other way around.”
“Well, I’m sorry I thought you were dead,” he said sarcastically.
“You only perceived what was happening to Tom and George with a fixed mindset of me being dead too.” She growled at him. “You didn’t notice my body was nowhere to be found? OH! How about that our ENTIRE family is made up of Paranormals? Did you ever think of that when you found out that I was one?”
“What?” Fox says as he stopped walking.
“Yeah, you hypocrite, you were killing your own kind!” She yelled at him. “You nearly ran over my best friend! Then you shot both of them, Ben got shot twice! How could you be so sadistic? I’d be lucky if they aren’t dead from jumping out of that train after me.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know you were my sister at the time! I only knew that you were a Paranormal and that I had to kill you because Paranormals killed my family.” Fox fired back.
“You shouldn’t be killing people at all!”
“But it’s an eye for an eye!” He said, on the brink of tears. “They wore black cloaks and masks.” There was a pause, and Emma was dumbfounded.
“Fox,” she said softly, “those weren’t just Paranormals. They were Malevolents.”
“Malevolents?”
“They’re the Ku Klux Klan of Paranormality,” she explains.
“Oh my God I’m such an idiot!” Fox groaned, putting his face in his hands. Suddenly, a rock comes flying over the dead bushes and hits Fox in the head. “OW!” Emma’s two friends show themselves at last. Benjamin was holding another rock in his left hand. He swayed as if he were drunk. Andrew tried to hold him up but he waved him off. Ben falls forward after another moment and Fox catches him.
Emma began to panic. Her breathing began to get heavy as thoughts ran through her mind: He’s lost too much blood; They were too far from any town; It’s the middle of winter; He’s not gonna make it! Her head began to hurt even more now.
“Emma, calm down, we’re gonna be fine,” Andrew tried to convince her. She wasn’t calming down. She couldn’t. The stress and pain was too much. Everything goes black.
It was dark. The darkest night they’ve had in a long while. Fox was inside with their mother, getting blankets for a camp out, and Emily was outside with her father and other brothers watching the stars. Emma was the youngest of the four. It wouldn’t be for too much longer. In about a month or so, she’d be a big sister. She was only three years old. Fox was five, and the twins were four.
“Folix!” Emily calls toward the house, but no one answered. Faster than she’s ever seen anyone move before, men in black cloaks and menacing masks grab the twins and mutilated them in front of her. She screams, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her father struggles with another one of the cloaked men as a gunshot rang out from the house. “FOLIX!” Emily shrieks before her world goes dark.
Emma inhales sharply as she wakes up. She finds herself in a queen-sized bed, wrapped and bandaged up. A fire roared in a hearth at the end of the bed. Andrew sat in a chair on the side closest to her. His left shoulder was bandaged up. He was leaning forward with his elbows on the mattress and his head in his hands. There were a few cuts, fresh ones, on his face. A big, red scratch spread across his right cheek like a crack in porcelain. Emma reaches forward and touches it gently.
“Ah,” Andrew hissed, retracting in pain. A mumbled apology was all she could muster in response as she began to sit herself up. Her entire body exploded in pain. “Hey, hey, hey, lay back down! You’ll tear out your stitches.”
“Stitches?!” Emma exclaimed. He hushed her as he helped her lay back down.
“Fox had to get some too,” he replied, “you guys got really cut up from jumping out of the train. Your hand will scar up badly. Not so much your side though.” Emma glances at her right hand. Her palm was bandaged up tightly.
“Where are we?” Emma questions, looking around.
“We are at your childhood home, supposedly,” he answered. That was odd. She hasn’t been here in a very long time. Fourteen years to be exact.
“How’s Ben?” She asked.
“He’s completely fine, surprisingly,” Andrew tells her. “Willow took the bullet out of his and my shoulders. Once she did that, he shifted and healed completely.” She nods.
“That’s good,” she says, “who’s Willow?”
“She was Fox’s formerly enslaved witch-servant, but he freed her once he got us here.” He explains. This confused Emma but she passed it off as magic. “Once she saw you, she recognized you. I could tell by the look on her face.” Emma knew her name. She knew it. But from where? The door opens and in steps a girl with blonde hair and a raggedy dress. She had blue eyes and a kind smile. Emma remembers.
“Willow? Willow Lynn?” Emma questions, tears forming in her eyes. The two were best friends back in Rochester. Ever since Emma left, it was hard to send letters and return them because they were so young. Willow carefully wrapped her arms around Emma’s shoulders, hugging her without hurting her.
“I missed you so much,” Willow smiled.
“How long have I been out?” Emma asked.
“A few days and not much more,” her friend replies, “your brother was worried about you. He’s missed you a lot since that day.”
“Well, I’m really tired right now, again I know, but I need my sleep,” Emma said. “I’ll see you all in a few more hours, alright?” Andrew and Willow nodded and left the room. The seventeen year old lays her head back onto her pillow and drifts back to sleep. She was home.
