Alora the Black Flower has a minion!

Sam the Cheerilee

Unfortunately, Alora's tale is a dark one.I grew up, an only child, with loving parents. I had my father's smooth hair and my mother's soft, dark eyes. My parents were my world...and I was heartbroken that day, the day that they fell deathly ill. My parents were dying, and there was nothing I could do about it. They looked perfect, as if they were only asleep, but I knew better. Two weeks ago, it was like nothing was wrong. Two weeks ago, they didn’t even know they were sick. My father’s face was serene as he lay next to my mother, as if nothing was ever wrong. They had both been diagnosed with an incurable disease, but after that point, no one seemed to know specifics. Only that their recovery was a one in a billion change. I was somehow comforted by the monitors, the machinery, the beep-beep of their automated hearts. For nearly forty-six hours, I knelt by their bedsides in silence, and then, something changed. Simultaneously, the monitors flatlined; giving off a sound that chilled me to the core. The dams inside my eyes burst, giving off an angry waterfall of tears and unending sorrow. A slender red-head rushed into the hospital room. It was my aunt Vanessa. She stood over me, softly sobbing into a wad of tissues. The silence consumed us and I clutched my mother’s cold hand in my own, questioning the fates why they had taken my parents so soon. After a few minutes, a nurse approached the room, but stopped to speak with my aunt. Even through my hysterical sobs, I could hear my aunt asking for more time. In the corner of my eye, I caught the nurse nod softly and swiftly walk away.. “A-Alora?” Vanessa’s voice was shaky and distant. I glanced over my shoulder at the blur of long, red hair and black garments, trying to force the tears from my vision. “We...we have to leave in an hour. The nurse, she gave us an hour.” She barely made it though the last sentence before breaking down into sobs. She knew that this was my time. She retreated to the waiting room. The last thing I wanted to do was to say the goodbye that I never had a chance to say. This was the era before photography, so I pulled a random piece of paper off of the countertop beside me, and proceeded to lace the sheet with my curly letters. My mother loved when I curled my letters. These were going to be extra special, just for her. My hand shook as I wrote, but it didn’t even reach the paper. "There are no words to describe all that you have done for me. I hope my words reach you even in heaven. They say it was not my fault, but I still can’t help but think that I could have saved you. I should have saved you. You never know how much you loved someone until they leave you, and I love you so much that I would give anything to have you back." The letter stretched to reach half a page and closed with, "Even if we are not together, you will live on forever. I love you mom and dad." I inhaled a shuddering breath, folded the page in fourths and stuffed it under my mother’s pillow. I still didn’t believe that they were gone. In an attempt to process both their death and my grief, I decided a take a walk. On my return, I found that my note had fallen out from behind her pillow. I grasped it in my fingertips, smoothing its edges as I prepared to refold it. My brow furrowed as I examined the letter’s changed face. My note was accompanied by a bold, squarish font that I had never seen before. "Let’s make a deal. You want your parents, and I want you." Initially, I was angry that someone had defaced my letter. But then I thought about it. At this point, I would take any kind of deal I could make."To whom this response concerns, How did you find my letter? That was meant only for my parents, and they are gone. Your intentions and your identity are unbeknownst to me, but the things that you say sound not only reasonable, but plausible. I am curious as to your deal, though, because you failed to mention what you desire as a return. I feel as though I have lost everything in losing my parents, so anything that you can do would be greatly appreciated. Please, don’t keep me in the dark too long. You know who this is." Little did I know, that this letter was the contract that signed my soul over to the Devil himself.I got my parents back, for a few, precious years, until one day, they were lost again in a car "accident". I didn't believe it was an accident. I couldn't do anything about it, and it was time to fulfill my deal with the devil. Twenty souls I was to give him in return for my parents' souls to go to Heaven and not purgatory. And so, I was forced to murder several, innocent people for my and his selfishness. I felt as though the killing wouldn't stop. Soon I learned of others in situations just like mine. They were called, "Black Flowers;" a person with the divine gift of bringing death. Our powers were designed to destroy evil in the world, but more and more, evil was using us to kill innocence. The more innocence I killed, the weaker I became. And I also learned that all of the other Black Flowers had died upon their final kill. There was no way out. If I left, he would torture my parents forever. If I stayed, my demise was indisputable. Everywhere I turned, I saw the world through a blood-stained soul. This is my story. This is the tale of Alora.Copywrited to Emily Lankow. (A.K.A. Keyock. Me!)

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