Blood Red Ink

 The first time Dahlia used the pen, she felt terrified. It was unnatural, abnormal, for anything like that to be able to occur in a world she previously believed worked according to certain fixed rules. She locked the horrifying item away in her attic, far away from her and any prying eyes.

The second time was only months later. She had been on the brink of bankruptcy, and the novel she had spent nearly two years perfecting had been rejected by every publishing house she had submitted her manuscript to. The fresh college graduate was penniless, in heaps of student debt, and had really needed the money from a successful publishing to be able to pay off her mother’s hospital bills. So, in a moment of desperation, her mind flashed to the creepy pen in her dusty, abandoned attic.

The writing utensil stuck to her fingers the moment she touched it, nearly leaping from where it lay as though longing to be used. A shiver ran down Dahlia’s spine as the cool metal touched her skin. It felt hungry.

Flying across the pages on her desk, the pen wrote with strange blood-red ink. She had the sneaking suspicion that it may actually be blood, but never worked up the courage to test her theory. Words slowly began to fill up the pages. An eerie uncomfortable feeling welled up within her as she read them, like the sentences themselves were warning her of the dangers they held.

An odd story weaved itself in crimson blood, speaking of a place that seemed fantastical yet sinister. Nobody reading the tale would believe it was anything but fiction, yet the woman unconsciously authoring it knew it to be factual.

Each drop of lifeblood seeping into the ivory paper felt like Dahlia was sealing a deal with the devil. And perhaps that was truly the case. After all, what else but the devil could create such a wondrous yet vile abomination?

As the last vermillion speck marked the end of the final sentence, she felt a heavy weight settle inside of her. There was no going back now. The chains on her soul ensured it.

The strangely numb young woman scanned the sheets of paper she held in her hands and sent them to the very same publishing companies that had previously rejected her. Oddly, there was no fear in her heart that her newest novel, written in merely an hour, would meet the same fate.

And her belief turned into reality. Each and every one of the companies she sent her draft to contacted her almost immediately, strangely desperate to be the one to contract her. Dahlia was soon swept up into a whirlwind of meetings and negotiations, yet her mind seemed to be far away from the worries of the mortal world.

She drifted through her busy days with a blank gaze and deadened expression. The only times she seemed to leave her odd reverie was when she visited her mother in the hospital, and even then only for the short duration of the visit. Many who saw her likened her to a ghost haunting the mortal plane, not belonging to the world in which she resided.

Her novel hit the shelves of most major book store chains and quickly became a huge hit. Readers praised her highly for the deep emotions, acclaimed critics raved about the intricate plots and worldbuilding, and newspapers and magazines alike displayed reverence for what was agreed on by everyone to be a once-in-a-generation masterpiece of writing unlike any other.

This had been Dahlia’s dream from a very young age. To be recognized, famous, and loved for her creative works. Yet she didn’t feel any emotion as the world buzzed around her with admiration, and only set out to write her final will, leaving all her money and future royalties to her mother.

The third time Dahlia used the pen was a week after receiving the first cheque with the money she received from her book. It had been calling out to her for months, an itch in the back of her mind, yet she had resisted it until then.

It felt warm, unlike before. Perhaps the warmth she felt was from the blood it had taken from her, leaving her so cold and lifeless. It was almost like it had taken more than just what flowed through her veins.

She squeezed the pen between her fingers, bringing it close to her heart. Perhaps its warmth would chase away the freezing feeling that made her feel like a living corpse. However, as her body began to tremble uncontrollably, she knew she wouldn’t make it to sunrise.

It was time to pay the price for messing with things beyond what humans could handle.