The day Harriet went missing. Was quite unremarkable. Not a drop of rain. Nor gust of wind. Yet all the same Harriet went missing. That was remarkable in itself, since it is hard to vanish in the middle of the city. There was perhaps one person who had seen her go… and that was you.

You saw a tall slender woman with ice blonde hair, that swayed with the ruffling hand of the unseen forces. Do you remember her? Perhaps not… there is something in your eye that shows a flicker of recognition.

This is Harriet. Icy warmth of winter rays’ stream down her back, always held neatly by a faded black hairband. Such perfection could not be bought at a hairstylist or recreated in your own home. A perfection that might only be achieved by a slight of hand or enchanted brush. Though her frame is slender don’t be misled into thinking that she is weak. No, Harriet would normally be seen frequenting her favourite gym, she was strong as a plough horse. Her clothes always appeared to be simple and bland, not much trace of colour to brighten her pale features. Upon her lips colour streaked a dash of Russian red, her artful smudge above a pair of striking blue pools a sprinkle of charcoal ash.

You see, Harriet was unremarkably remarkable, so how is it possible for her to go unnoticed? Think. Dredge through the memories that backed up like hefty files waiting to be sorted. There a whisper of knowledge, draw it out with a teasing tickle, a pull of the peeking strand will unravel a whole ream of information- that maybe best forgotten.

People ask in gaudy tones:

“Was it magic?”

“Was it murder?”

“Was she imagined?

“Did she move?”

“Do people simply move without a word?”

Theories circulated the concrete metropolis like an airborne pathogen, slowly infecting the young, the old and the weak. One by one they were struck down by the mystery of Harriet’s disappearance. Conspiracies grew like boils, grotesquely disproportionate, waiting… begging to burst. Spilling and spewing thick curdled cream cheese like pus over those in the closest proximity. The foul rotten stench overpowering even the strongest of stomachs, but none of this changed a single fact.

Harriet had a talent. A gift, that was rarely bestowed onto mortal beings. She was born of the elemental magic that held power enough to birth and destroy life. If Harriet learned the ways of the old, she would be able to control the elements and make them bend to her will. That much magic could consume someone completely, tiny claws would rip apart the mosaic of cells and hurl them like confetti into the air. In that one devastating explosion Harriet would be no more.

Except no one knew that. Apart from the exception, there’s always one, that knew. Do you know who that was…is?

It was you. You knew Harriet’s secret and you despised her for it. She had what you wanted. Not wanted but craved with a maddening desire that began to leech away all rationality, driving you into a rabid frenzy. Outwardly, you seemed calm, respectful, and hardworking; inside was a blackened tarry chrysalis that nurtured a demon of the darkest intent. A demon that would become your master, a demon that would stain your hands crimson.

Such a compliment to Harriet’s lips. Red hands, red lips. A paradoxical colour. She wore it for love, courage, and an alluring mystery. You wore it for violence, power, and a stark warning. She was the energy, and you were the danger. All energy eventually dies, whether it crepitates or fulminates the force is transferred elsewhere.

You knew that… and still know that. You are the master puppeteer with the world at your feet, begging for a spectacular display. Will you give them a show?

Knowing where Harriet might be was no real mystery, you had learnt that through months of covert observations. In other words, you had stalked her. Building up a picture of Harriet’s life, a detailed map that never wavered off course. A nagging worm inside your riddled mind alerted you to her suspicion, it seemed she was growing too wise. Her intuition murmured that something was off, and she glanced behind more often, yet you persisted. Until the day Harriet had strolled leisurely towards the police station.

That was when the gossamer and lace ornate chrysalis crumbled, turning to fine dust under a fiery finger. The demon had awoken from its slumber. Agonising was the sensation you felt, as the cracked and tortuous ideology of the creature unfolded into its new home. A single rasping cough dripped from your lips lined with fine fissures, the last of your propriety broke and dispersed on the fine breeze.

Stiffly, you turn onto the high-street, a place you once knew. There your stagnant pools latch onto the goddess, a pearlescent dragonfly that was born of fantasy. The plan was simple: make Harriet disappear and soak in her magic.

Barely, registering the way your shoulders curled inwards or the way your back bent under the weight of responsibility, you shuffled awkwardly towards the only other person on your side of the road. “Excuse me, Miss?” Letters formed themselves with a heavy rolling accent, they sounded foreign to your ears.

Oh, how elegant, how graceful she looked spinning in a pirouette, concern shimmering in eyes of aquamarine that could drown a wayward soul. “Is everything okay?” It seemed so natural for her to say, syllables easily lilting to the sway of her soul.

“No… no. I have lost something… I can’t remember what…” Cold and bony appendages clicked noisily together, punctuating your confusion. Daring a fleeting glance through your eyelashes, you saw that Harriet had taken the bait.

Hurriedly, she rearranged her handbag, before fishing in her stylish coat for her phone, “Do you want me to call the police? I mean we can always go into the police station, it’s just down the road. Can you remember where you last had the thing you lost?” Harriet studied her mobile briefly… an action that would have consequences.

An opportunity handed to you on a silver plate, you lunged forward grabbing her tightly with one sweaty skeletal paw covering almost half of Harriet’s delicate face, “Don’t say a word,” you hissed through your clenched jaw. You didn’t need to search her eyes for consternation, you felt her entire being go rigid. Temporarily, Harriet was powerless. ‘Don’t drop your guard,’ you mutter mutely, ‘she is still incredibly dangerous.’

You were tall, but she was taller. An internal growl pulled at your throat, begging to be released. Instead, you tugged Harriet closer and rose onto your tiptoes, what strength that secluded snarl gave you. Breathing out a murky cloud of rotten greed, you seduced her pure heart, “Sleep now, my beauty.” There was nothing more than a feeble mewl before Harriet limply fell back against your chest.

Swiftly, you scanned the dull city; obsidian roads, grimy pavements, and filthy buildings, yet there was no one in sight. Both a blessing and a curse. There was no one to save Harriet, you were unstoppable. Grunting with the effort of slinging a fully grown woman over your shoulder, the demon took over navigation. Leading you through the forgotten alleys and abused sideroads, the demon took you too an abandoned wool mill.

Your clouded orbs stared up, memorising the peculiar silhouette and sharp contours. Rapidly, you were surrounded by the unforgiving hiemal silken aura, one that would chill you to your bones and never leave. Could this be the start of the battle of fire and ice?

Decidedly, you place one foot on the echoing step… one designed with the highest quality of oxidised metal. Fearing that your chance to steal a life might be snatched away by karma’s hand, you danced nimbly up the rickety fire escape. Harriet’s limp arms slapping your thighs with each movement, causing your teeth to gnash in irritation.

By the time you had slipped into the besmirched room, that seemed to be endless, there was no more strength to hold back the demonic will. Brutally, you pin Harriet’s unresponsive body against the worn brickwork, not by her shoulders… no you clamped your clawed hand around her throat. Raised welts of burnished copper silently plead with you to release your grasp, nothing was going to stop you. Lurching forward you press your chapped pale lips against her strangely hued ones, a tingle sparked a blaze in your gut. Pulling back, you try and name the colour that was Russian red cloaking cyan, there was no colour except green. Green the colour of jades, fuelled the inferno that slowly consumed you.

With your free hand you plunged an iniquitous jet blade into her abdomen, you felt the warmth of the bloody flood gush over your knuckles. Inhaling sharply the demon became high on the rich metallic tang, one that dredged up images of ridiculous wealth. Not bothering to withdraw the dagger, you dragged its sharp edges horizontally extending the gash. You could hear it now, the steady drip… drip… drip of sorrow tumbling into the uncaring arms below.

Something clicked in your primal brain. You let her fall with a satisfying thump onto the ancient planks. The weapon unsure whether to follow hovered briefly before hurling itself remorsefully beside the body, a body still warm with an extinguished soul. Your knees cracked loudly with the force you landed. Luridly, you traced Harriet’s curves, feeling how the muscles went slack and how you wished you could have her in anyway you wished. A demon still has morals.

Instead, you reached inside the gapping cavern carved by an unpractised hand, pulling out the internal organs one by one. Perforated by curving claws, you drank in the revolting odour, feeling the contents in all its rich texture explore your smooth skin. Then as if disgusted, you hurled them at the wall a melodic splattering filled the still atmosphere, watching them sink in disgrace. Still, you wanted more, slithering over her corpse you covered her frame in a living blanket- no not covered your body engulfed her.

By the time the word had spread about Harriet’s disappearance, you were clean and calm, both shocked and saddened by the news. Did you dare to start a new rumour? Cowardly, you shied away from the crowd, yet you still listened to what was said because you found yourself amused at their wild theories. A simple smile hid the sinister truth. You knew the truth and you told the truth… unwittingly.