To Entrance and Captivate

Let's get some things straight: he came after me, he kidnapped me, and he ruined my life. Singlehandedly.
It didn't matter that every time he entered the room my heart pounded painfully, and whenever he flashed one of those know-it-all, wanting smiles I secretly wished to give one back. That didn't matter at all.
Now the mobs were coming after us. I wanted to hate him for causing this, for dragging me into a world where mortals were actually called mortals, for taking hold of my mind and refusing to let it go.
But I didn't, and I really didn't have a good idea as to why. Maybe because I was curious, and rebellious, and hated absolutely everything my loony grandmother forced upon me. Or maybe because hell was a lonely place, and misery loved company.


2. Chapter One

Hi everyone! Thank you for taking a look at this. Chapters One and Two were to be together, but it seemed lengthy, and so I found a natural break. Please comment and tell me what I did wrong, right, or if you liked it. Thanks!




The first time I had met death was in a Romanian market, about five months back, when everything in my life was still functioning to a somewhat normal degree. It had been about a week since I had traveled from America to Romania, all to spend some quality time with a grandmother with whom I knew only by birthday cards.

            I had been surveying vendors’ wares, all neatly piled in front of their vans or storefronts, braving the snowy weather alongside their customers. It was a close community, and I was absorbed into their introductions. Everyone was friendly, voices loud and boisterous, greetings in enthusiastic Romanian as they stamped their feet and tried to ward off the cold. Soon I lost Grandmother in the crowd. She had been too preoccupied collecting an odd variety of herbs and meats to keep an eye on me, yet I needn’t worry. I was in good company, and the snow seemed a little warmer with their smiles all around.

            But, at once, the conversation transformed into a wave of panicked murmurs. In a flash of jackets and shawls I was torn from the main road, losing my warm hat in the process. The antique dealer had grabbed onto my hand, yanking me into the local fruit vendor’s store, twenty others already crammed inside, thus making me suffer the loss of my beanie.         

            The doors to the shop were slammed shut.

            Somewhere in the room, a child was sniffling, and a mother smothered the cries with a pacifier. After, it was as silent as a tomb. Only the cold wind, sneaking in through the cracks of the store walls, broke the quiet fear.

            “What’s going on?” I asked. I was violently shushed by the botanist and the antique dealer.

            “El se apropie,” one replied. He approaches.


            A gloved hand slapped over my mouth, stinging my cheeks. Obviously they were tired of my questions.

            Before I could flip out and demand to be released, my eyes caught a black flicker crossing one of the cracks in the wall. I saw what I thought was an eyebrow, dark and thick, set over the palest of canvases that nearly rivaled the snow’s own luster.

            Something in my heart clenched painfully.

            I forced my way through the packed bodies and to another wall crack. This one was only slightly larger, but I could see the legs of a man who had been wandering outside. He had paused, standing before a familiar blue beanie that lay on the ground, and I saw a hand carefully cradle it. Two fingers pulled away what I thought to be a hair, one of mine no doubt.

            Those in the store gasped.

            “The girl’s…”

            “…new scent…”

            “…likes it. Won’t stop till…”

            “…done for. God save us.”

            The rest of the conversations traveled by far too quickly for me to catch. As soon as the noise had begun, it had died. Our attention now turned back to the outside. The person who held my hat had heard us speak, and had turned towards us. I could see a bit of their skin, still pallid and flawless, and then the sleeve of their warm jacket. They took a step forward, then paused.

            “Will no one come and claim this?” his voice asked.

            My heart jolted painfully once again. That voice, that luxurious voice, so rich and rolling like smoothed velvet, smothered my brain and made my thoughts undecipherable.

            It was a young man’s voice, I decided. And I wanted to hear it again.

            “It’s mi—”Again, my mouth was covered by someone’s gloved hand.

            “Speak again and we’re all dead,” a gravelly voice spat to my ear.

            My body trembled. I didn’t understand what was happening, why everyone was so afraid. Maybe this was the Romanian equivalent to New York muggings.

            That joke didn’t cheer me up much.

            The young man outside said nothing more, which pained me greatly. Deep inside my mind was going haywire, screaming for his voice to calm it; more visibly, my limbs shook with an unidentifiable longing, a kind of anxiousness that I could not repress. It was suddenly far too hot in the store and far too cold, too crowded, too spacious. The one thing it truly was, was silent.

             They crunched through the snow, his footsteps, leading him farther and farther away from me. With each pace I could feel my heart tearing itself to shreds, burning with an insatiable pain to the very tips of my soul. The world began spinning around so quickly I thought I would be lifted off the face of the Earth. I would soar through the clouds, the pain terrible, stabbing, until I reached the stars. It would be there, lost amongst the cold, lonely depths of space, that I would think that if I stuck out my hand far enough, I could touch one, so hot, so pleasant. And so, with that touch, I exploded as one of them, one of the brightest, warmest, and most tortured stars around.


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