forum Cinnamon's corner of stories

Started November 28, 2022 by @Anxietyfilledcinnamonroll group

tune

Inside the Mind:

Jezebel

Jezebel stood, her fingers gripped tightly to her arm. The glass case shone brightly, refracting the dull lights of the spoils room. Her breathing evened out as her mind only churned thoughts into illusions. Pretty blue eyes reflected into the glass case, only sharing an image of a woman holding a bloodied dagger. It mocked her, waving the black obsidian blade to entice animalistic desires. Desires only the mind could perceive once far gone. Jezebel’s breath came hot and heavy, clouding the glass and therefore the image. At least it should have, but the reflection is opaque like wood. Strange wonders of the world only appeared to those stuck in their mind.

The woman held the dagger out to Jezebel, offering it to the young princess. A wide smile crossed her face, waiting for Jezebel to reach for the leather-wrapped hilt. Her body twitched. Her mind could not process the reality of this dagger. Was it false or true? Did this appear forth from hatred or love? Jezebel peered down at her hands, blood pooling around her palms and spilling off the side. With each drip on the tile, her breath quickened. The surrounding room crumbled, bricks falling away to reveal a void, leaving the case with the woman strutting along the glass. She could restore greatness, and give the people what they wanted. She wanted to call him king, to embrace her father with endless love — but why does Jezebel think instead of him, it should be her?

Jezebel hated how everyone swooned over her father, believing him to be the great sovereign of Hell. There was nothing special about him, nothing she couldn’t do. She had a destiny. It was more than the princess who lay in wait. Tears streaked down her cheeks, dropping onto her hands, sizzling away. The room echoed screams of victory, screams of pain. Both were a mix of what could occur if she took the plunge. Jezebel’s tears clouded her vision, her breathing deep and calculated. She turned, watching the woman with the dagger. Watching Jezebel with the dagger. The need, the want of such an object gorged in blood. She didn't want what he had, she wanted to be him. She reached out, attempting to take the knife from her reflection. Blood spilled upon her hands as she got closer. The handle seemed inclined, almost leaning toward her hand for her to take.

Jezebel was close, almost taking the dagger before a gruff voice broke through her consciousness. It was familiar, almost pungent in a way. She blinked her eyes, the spoils' room intact. Her hands were on the case protecting a ruby knife. A figure stood behind her, its condescending body towering over her. Lowering the case, Jezebel drew her hands away, staring far off into the wall.

“Jezebel?” Her father questioned, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. He seemed worried, but she wouldn’t let him encase her in his web of lies. Turning around, she smiled, zing up her father. His back hair was always strewn everywhere, covering the circlet her worse upon his head. His expression was one of confusion. Jezebel would have to complete her plan on another date. It was too late.

Jezebel regarded her father’s question. “I’m alright, Father, really.” Her eyes were glazed over, staring into space rather than at her father. He simply nodded his head, leading Jezebel out of the room. She followed begrudgingly, closing her eyes. It was ruined. For now.

It's been awhile, but I've started writing again

–

Shot in the Dark:

Jax sat on his knees, staring at the wall before him. He isolated himself in the training room, watching the small candle he set aside flicker. He enjoyed the dark, only using candlelight to find guidance. It was cozy. The only cozy thing he had. His eyes grew heavy, burdened with the travesties of this world. Jax wished for nothing more but for it to end. He didn’t know how much more he could handle before he curled into a ball and sobbed.

Yesterday was his 13th birthday. He had made it two years after his brother dragged him to this cold place. Jax didn’t mind it. Not at all. He liked the cold and how it brushed against his arms; he liked to train and push himself, all to try and bury the memories plaguing his head. His tired eyes peered up at the ceiling, creases forming under them. Jax’s brother, Dominic, told him not to push himself. Dominic instructed him to confide in someone so he didn’t bubble over. The only person he needed was his brother. No one else. Jax huffed a sigh. It had been wishful thinking.

Val unwillingly entered his life last year. His brother, for no reason, decided the kid was bunking with him. They were the same age and practically the same height. Jax had gritted his teeth, watching the new kid invade his space as if he were welcome. He didn’t mentally welcome him, but he verbally agreed with his brother that he could stay. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to let his brother down by rejecting the guy, but in his mind, Jax recoiled at the thought of another living with him. He wasn’t ready to let another human in. What if they left him on this plain alone? What if they decided he was a killer for not attempting to save his parents? He violently shook his head and watched the guy explore his space.

That day was strange. Immediately, the ginger laid eyes on him. Val examined his face, noticing how gaunt and ruined it was. His eyes were dull; no light was able to shine through. He wondered what the others thought. Possibly, wow! This guy is a fuckup. Out of all places, why did Val have to choose his room? There was another open space, but yet the ginger clung to him. Why? He was the most unsavory person to cling to. Jax pushed everyone away, giving them distant glances and dead stares. But yet, Val still hovered around him. He insisted they do training together, annoying the hell out of him with his constant optimism. He had to have been hiding something. No one was that optimistic. And yet, Val still filled his life with joy, trying to fill Jax’s. But he would forever be a glass half empty, nothing more.

Tears streamed down Jax’s face. He didn’t want these stupid memories. He came here for relief from his burdens, not reflect on his life. Jax swiped at his tears with the back of his hand. It was so fucking stupid. There was no reason to cry. None at all, and yet, tears still marked his face. Just for a second, his eyes softened, and he hiccuped. He gritted his teeth, falling onto his hands.

Why? Why did Val stick around? Why did he constantly hover around him, showing him things of little importance? No one needed to show him kindness, not after surviving things he shouldn’t have. It sickened him to think about it, his stomach turning into irreversible knots. Jax coughed, his spit dripping onto the floor. God, he hated this.

Jax drew in a long breath, his body shaking. He sat up, placing his hands on his knees. He needed to gather himself. It was time for him to leave. He stared at the worn floors. A click echoed around the barren room, the heavy door swinging open. Someone caught him. The lights flicked up, piercing light blinding him. Jax shut his eyes, looking away. He slowly opened an eye, peaking at who found him at his worst. Of course, it was Val. The ginger held a blanket tucked over his arm, staring at Jax. He couldn’t tell if Val’s emerald green eyes held concern or disappointment.

Val stared at him, then moved into the room. “It’s late, and I got worried when you didn’t return to the dorm. You do seem to have this bad habit.” He grabbed the blanket and unfolded it.

Jax’s eyes hardened, his mouth straightening. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need another’s care or worry. “It doesn’t concern you,” he snapped.

Val shook his head, drooping the blanket over Jax’s shoulder. “Nonsense. Why are you so troubled? Could you at least tell me something?”

“It doesn’t concern you!” Jax drew the blanket around his body, snuggling into its warmth.

Val pursed his lips, sighing. “Will you tell me something eventually? When I’m worthy enough?”

“Possibly,” was all he muttered back. He couldn’t ignore how he liked Val’s company, but he didn’t want him to know. It scared Jax. He stood on his feet, and Val threw an arm over him. He didn’t know how long he could deny accepting Val’s kindness. How long until it destroyed him? It was obvious the ginger wasn’t leaving anytime soon. If anything, he’d hover around Jax more. Hell! Val even figured out his nightly patterns. Val guided him out of the room, and he huffed. Maybe Dominic was right. He needed to find someone to confide in so he didn’t bubble over, but it wouldn’t be so easy. Not right now.

This is a revision of the first scene I posted to this thread :)

For people stalking/viewing, please make sure to read my first post to see what trigger topics my work contains to see if you'd like to read my work or not. It is bolded

For this one, TW: Abuse and violence

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Dogs of War

A deep snarl echoed through the musty study. Bane couldn’t register what was happening; it all happened too fast. Finding an escape route became his sole desire. But there was nothing. The enormous figure blocked the singular exit, and it approached him hastily. A low whimper came from him, his chest tightening. He could lie down and accept his fate. It would be cowardly.

“You pathetic bitch!” A blur of claws slashed toward his face. Spit dripped off of his father, Cerberus’, teeth. He splayed his fingers out, claws ready for another attack. Cerberus’ eyes burned with an unquenchable fire, the type of flames that burned forests black. He slashed at Bane inhumanly, sharp claws just missing his face. Bane stumbled back, tripping over his feet. Each slash came closer than comfortable. His back hit the wall. Dead end. He’d wedged himself into a hollow outlet, which he hid away from his father. Bane clenched his jaw, trying to stop his body from shaking. He intended to leave this place behind. Alive, that was, no matter the injuries.

Cerberus deliberately backed Bane into a small office, leading his poor son into thinking they could talk it out. The Atrocity Pack owned the building. The pack was a large, noble group of hellhounds his father led. Some called it the guard dog coterie. It was nothing but giant, murderous people who clawed their way to the top. Demons always viewed them as the most capable. This room served as his father’s private study. He used it to devise plans and uphold the monarchy’s best interest, but now it turned into a bloody fighting rink. Small fissures in the wall mocked him. Red light shone through, filling Bane’s thoughts on the outside. He looked away. Bane was locked in, trapped by Cerberus, who swung his dirty claws at him.

“I should have ripped your unholy eye out long ago! I should have killed you long ago!” Cerberus’ paranoid scream penetrated his ears. Bane winced, shutting his eyes. His ears burned. His father hated anything different from the standard. He was different. As the leader’s son, he should have been a prime example of the standard, but he ruined it. Bane always ruined it.

“You were supposed to be perfect, but you spoiled it!” Another screech came from Cerberus’ throat. He bared his teeth, foaming spit hanging from his lips. Bane’s face twitched, his lips drawing back into a snarl. He fucking hated the way his father treated him. He was sick of it! It was time to fight back, to stop being submissive toward this deranged man. Despite his attempts at assertiveness, Cerberus constantly pushed him down and punished him. No more! A low growl came from his throat as he looked up at his father. Cerberus held a wide gait and laughed with a hard edge. Before Bane could attack, claws came at him, ripping into the flesh on his face.

He swung his head away, his eyes bolting closed instinctively as the claws passed over his right eye. Violent pain ebbed through the delicate nerves of his face, sending out fiery signals. Rough wheezing hissed from his throat, and Bane clutched his face in dismay. His legs gave out, and his body slid down the ridgid wall. Opening his eyes, a thin film of red clouded his vision. Everything was red. The room, his father, and his hands. It messed with his mind. A powerful force pulled at the collar of his shirt, dragging him into the air. Bane kicked his feet, the tips of his boots scraping against the slippery boards. Cerberus sneered in his face, a scarred hand tilting his head up. Viscous blood dripped onto his father’s hands, making the man snicker. Inertia pulled Bane’s rugged body along as his father threw him against the wall. His body smacked the wall, crumbling to the ground as needle-like shivers ran up his spine.

Picking his head up, Bane groaned. Cerberus’ figure danced about, watching the hound from afar. His smile was jagged, pleased with his doing. It sickened Bane. He lay in a small puddle of his blood, blind and in pain.

“Never should have made you my second, you stupid animal.” His father scoffed. Silence overcame the space, the last footsteps echoing far off. Coppery blood filled the room with its pungent odor. Bane wrinkled his nose, groaning as he dragged his body across the floor. His body ached for some relief. Maybe he’d die here in this hellhole. Maybe he could fulfill his wish of making it out alive. No matter the backlash, Earth was a better realm. Bane dragged his body to the door, looking forward to leaving this place.