A Pink Wraith's Promise

    A Pink Wraith's Promise                                                 


"Albrene," The blood-soaked princess whispers my modest name with a devilish grin. She is the only person in my kingdom who can forgo the use of honorifics without fear of imprisonment. After all, she is a spirit of the damned. I can offer no judgement to her. She brushes two freezing fingers through my dusty-blondish hair and offers forth another torturous sigh. "Do you miss the warmth of my former touch, love? You can tell me. How greatly do you yearn for us to be reunited?"

I ignore her inquiries and shield myself in the darkness of my silken bedsheets. She comes to me every Tuesday night, speaking poisonous sentiments that seek to lure my immortal soul to her side of the veil. She holds even more power over me than she did in life. All I can do to survive these arduous nights is patiently await the return of morning. Pink wraiths die again every sunrise. They are merely lonely dreams wishing to part us from our reality. They have no true place here. Sadly, my responsibilities as prince of Kadwin outweigh my desire to follow her into the realm of death. "Lucretia." I gently sob as I speak her name. Her ruby irises materialize from the black and I watch, helpless against my lust, as she crawls over me, pressing my paralyzed body into the mattress as she sings her sorrowful song.


"Lost in an inescapable world of blue,

the gutless princess waits for reborn love, tears ever true.

Living dead, prince of rubes, royal victim of a broken home, sliced in two!

Fear not the reaper, my darling.

He beckons your truth!

Slit your wrists, Albrene!

I wait for you!"


I wish to hear this song no longer. Its lyrics overwhelm me. I take Lucretia's tongue into my mouth and tighten my grip around the snow white locks of her hair. I tremble as the unrestrained power of her ghostly aura envelops the air around our pale forms. I know I shouldn't be doing this. It simply makes my decision to pursue life harder than it already is. Regardless, I succumb to my betrothed's allure. I watch with flickering eyes as she guides me inside her and I am instantly drowned in the warring seas of guilt and pleasure.

"I am sorry I couldn't save you, Lu. I thought I had more time... That brigand butchered you and all I could offer your spirit was justice. I am sorry."

A sweet smile spreads across Lucretia's bruised lips as I beckon another barrage of worthless apologies. "So come with me, Albrene. Your brother can replace your father upon his death...Raliel forbid such a tragedy should occur."

The thought of Fade toying with a crown on his head suddenly dances through my mind. I chuckle at the dreary image of my foolish brother's unborn kingdom. "Do you know what manner of devastation King Fade would bring upon Kadwin? No! I am sorry, Lu! However, I am not abandoning my duty to this kingdom on a gamble that I will actually see you again! Father said never to trust a wraith and that man's wisdom has yet to fail me."

All tenderness in Lucretia's expression vanishes. Our bodies part as she hovers to the ceiling and drops of sleek crimson fall onto my tear-stained cheeks.

"None of that matters, Al. Sooner or later, you will come to the conclusion I seek. Duty or no, love shall always conquer the hearts of lonely men. You always were such a dreg of a nobleman, darling. I will be here every Tuesday night. Are you telling me that you possess the moral aptitude to continue to sacrifice me for the rest of your agonizing life?"

The sadism behind her latest tantrum temporarily sends my mind into an unfettered panic. Yet, in the end, I find myself sneering at the imposter's desperation with a new-found clarity locked firmly in my mind.

"Oh, my pitiable tormenter, you have no idea of what I am capable of. Do you think you are the first illusion who has appealed to my guilt? Sure, the form you chose holds the most sway over me, yet it will not shatter my resolve. My name is Albrene Monroe, eldest prince of Kadwin and I command you to return to your unholy realm in the name of Raliel the eternal! Burn before his light! Begone, crude seductress!"

Lucretia's wraith bursts into mocking laughter. She tosses her bloodied gown to the floor beneath her and soars further into the air as pulsating, ruby tendrils slither from her exposed clit. Her translucent hands wave seductively at me within the golden ceiling tiles and she gracefully begins the last words of her third life.

"I shall leave for tonight, but you cannot conquer the fury of our love with your father's lies, Al. Eventually, you will choose the compassionate scythes of death. All men do, eldest prince of Kadwin. Your royal status renders you no holier than they were. Raliel cannot save you. You will die and your kingdom will slowly crumble. I assure you, this is a fate you will come to welcome with open arms. After all, guilt makes cowards out of the most dutiful sons."

W.D. Frank

 W.D. Frank is a surrealist author who has been a fan of everything dark and weird since he was four years old. His first published work was the psychological horror tale, "The Whereabouts Of Mrs Trisha." The folks at Literally Stories loved it so much that they told W.D. he was the best darn writer they ever had... right before they threw a pizza party in his honor. His debut novel Lucifer's Ladder was published by the now defunct Fear Front Publishing while several of his poems and short stories have been published in the Cake & Quill anthologies. (A charity group created by a group of writers who all hate W.D. for stealing their adorable pets and eating their families with a side of vanilla ice cream) W.D.'s ultimate dream is to seduce James Franco and use the actor's almighty stoner powers to create a world where babies aren't allowed in movie theaters. He is also an avid Pokemon fan and will ramble gleefully about Silent Hill or Final Fantasy any day of the week. If you have a problem with that, then by Valtiel's rapidly twitching head, run, rabbit, run!



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