by Victor Allen
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That night, the dinner dishes done, Lisa dried her hands on the dish towel and padded to her room. She sat on her bed and closed her eyes, noting with satisfaction that she was steady and calm. The decision was made. There would be no backsliding.
Steve, her parents, her friends played no role in her machinations. Only Jenny.
Only one step away was the yawning chasm that Jenny had seen, but Lisa had only glimpsed; the eyeless imps and stunted demons that had turned Lisa’s soul out and made a home in the void.
Jack and Jill were gone. The autumn moon was her ally of the evening, riding high in the sky and projecting weird, elongated shadows into her darkened bedroom. Tiny mites of dust suspended in silver-silk moonbeams glittered and spun in a willowy, fairy waltz
Lisa tiptoed down the stairs and walked into the kitchen. She had put on the blue bride’s maid dress Jenny had magicked back to virgin perfection. If all went according to plan, this would be the only chance she got to wear it. The passionless face of the moon stared coldly through the window at her, a silver coin pinned against the black velvet of a cloudless sky.
Lisa backed away from the window slowly, sighing, her mind wrecked up beyond saving. There was no gilding the lily on this. She pulled open the drawer where the knives were kept and selected a large chopping blade with a sharp point. Uncaring moonbeams echoed from the blade and threw spears of light on the shadowed wall adjacent to the window. Lisa held the knife at arm’s length, fascinated at the shadow it cast. Overly large, powerful, monstrous, its magic to steal life to be tested against Jenny’s sorcery.
Trailed by that demonic presence, Lisa walked towards Jenny’s room, turning out lights as she went. She extinguished the lamp at the foot of the stairs, leaving the house in darkness save for the light in Jenny’s room.
The clocks struck nine, its hollow chiming covering the sounds of Lisa’s advance. It was time.