File 12

Once again, I awoke to Elise straddling me the same way she did yesterday. I asked her why. She told me it made me happy, so it had to be good. Yeah. Happy. Let’s go with that. After getting dressed, I went to go check on Sylvia. Today she was singing something else.

Truth be told I miss you

Truth be told I’m lyin,

When you see my face,

Hope it gives you hell

Hope it gives you hell

When you walk my way

Hope it gives you hell

Hope it gives you hell

When you find a man that’s worth a damn and treats you well

He’s just a fool, it’s just as well, hope it gives you hell.

I closed the door. All-American Rejects, seriously? This was getting annoying……and kind of terrifying.

We had breakfast, and when she went out to start up the car, I went to Mistress’s room. I knocked on the door.

“Don’t come in!” She yelled, “I’m changing!” I waited until she was ready, and she opened the door, dressed in a full dominatrix-esque leather suit. I took a couple steps back when I noticed the horsewhip she had in her hands. “What is it?” She asked.

“Woah….what’s up with the outfit?” My eyes were wide, half out of terror and half out of curiousity.

“One of the dolls messed up too badly, so we’re going to have a bit of fun in the basement!” She cackled and grinned menacingly, slapping the horsewhip down hard on one of her leather gloves.

“Er……have fun with that……anyways…” I showed her the report I wrote up on The Brute, and she pondered it for a moment.

“Eh, I’m sure he’s no threat to us.” Mistress shrugged. “Now, you have reports to write, yes? Go to your little singing girlfriend and get to it.”

Elise had the car idling at the end of the lot, out by the road. “So where’s the Burning Bride?” She asked me.

“I have absolutely no idea.” I replied, and we began driving. After about two very long hours, we finally reached a door. It was unmarked, but I could feel, even from inside the car, the heat coming from it. Either this was a boiler room, or the domain of The Burning Bride.

We got out of the car and entered, feeling the heat as we entered. We were in some sort of lit cave. However, I couldn’t see any light sources, nor could Elise.

We walked further in, the heat getting more intense. I was sweating like a dog, and Elise was panting like one. She had a water bottle she brought with her, but the water had already gotten too warm to drink.

Finally, we found her. Standing in the center of a large clearing. The Burning Bride. As expected, she looked like a young woman, wearing a white dress and veil, encircled completely by flame. She wasn’t terrifying, I felt no fear in her presence. She was more calming than anything. And that calming worried me more than any terror could ever do.

She had her eyes closed, and when she opened them, they were a beautiful smoky gray color. “Come no closer, lest you burn yourselves.” The Burning Bride spoke, and her voice sounded sweet, but there a coldness I couldn’t quite comprehend within all the heat. “What is your purpose for seeking me out? I do not take servants.”

“Er……we’re on a mission from The Wooden Girl. We’re supposed to observe and write about every fear.” I replied.

“Please, go ahead, observe all you like. I wouldn’t advise writing here, however, your paper may burn.” The Burning Bride smiled. This woman doesn’t want to be a Fear. She wants to be normal, but can’t, for whatever reason.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU FOOLS YESTERDAY?” A familiar voice boomed, and smoke curled and hissed in from all sides as the Brute took form. “I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM THE BURNING BRIDE, AND YOU DID NOT LISTEN TO ME. PREPARE FOR MY WRATH.” The Brute was visibly pissed.

          “Minotaur, let them off easy. They just wish for observation, nothing more!” The Burning Bride pleaded.

          “No, Hestia.” The Brute replied in a soft voice, which was still quite by human standards. “That human, in the glasses and trilby, he is a servant of the very Fear that sealed me away in this wretched state!” The Brute yelled at the Bride.

          “We all sealed you away, you senile old noose-hanger.” The Burning Bride retorted. “Even I helped with that, if you’ve forgotten.”

          “THE HARLEQUIN DEALT THE FINAL BLOW. SHE IS THE ONE THAT MUST BE DESTROYED.”

          “Shut up! You don’t want to fuck with us!” Elise suddenly yelled.

          The Brute laughed. “FOOLISH MORTAL. YOU CANNOT HARM ME.”

          “No, you’re right, I can’t.” Elise said, obfuscating something in her hand. “But I can sure as hell hurt her.” There was now the barrel of a shotgun about a foot away from the face of the Burning Bride. She feigned shock and terror.

          The Brute’s voice grew quiet. “What is it you need me to do?” He asked quietly, as if embarrased.

          “Leave us alone.” Elise said, lowering her shotgun slowly.

          “Very well, it shall be done….” The Brute’s voice trailed off as the smoke disappated. It just occurred to me at this point that The Burning Bride’s fire gave off no smoke.

          “Oh, thank you!” The Burning Bride breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought he was never going to leave! He acts like a caretaker all the time, but I don’t even like him!” She was almost laughing.

          “You’re quite welcome…I have one more question.” I chuckled as well, noticing the destruction of the formal air that was once in the room.

          “If it’s about the whole situation with the Archangel, I’m here for you. Anything you need that you think I can help you with, I’ll do so.” The Burning Bride basically summarized what I was about to ask her about.

          “Thanks.” Elise spoke for me. “Well, then again, Daniel IS a lonely virgin…”

          “That’s enough out of you.” I sighed and clamped my hand over Elise’s mouth. “Now, if you don’t mind, madam, we need to get out of here before all the moisture from our bodies evaporate.” I tipped my hat to her as she waved goodbye.

          Once out at the car, the first thing we did was strip as much as we could without being too horribly awkward and try to wring the sweat out. I was just wearing my boxers, and Elise nothing but a bra and panties. After thoroughly wringing out our clothes, we got in the car and drove home to the Screaming Tower.

          File 12: The Burning Bride

          Alternate Names: PRE24B, Fossil-Type SYZYGY, Hestia, The Flickering Woman, The Lock, Subject Bravo Bravo, Eris, Tweedle-Dee

          Attitude Towards Humans: Friendly

          Control Over: Fire

          The Burning Bride doesn’t want to be a Fear. She doesn’t want to be feared. She wants love. She wants friends. She wants to live a normal life. But she cannot, due to the Brute. The Brute fell madly in love with her, and made her the fire to his smoke, a necessary part of him. The Burning Bride however, does not feel that way. She was one of the first to want to seal the Brute away. That’s why she has an alternate name of The Lock. By nature, The Burning Bride is friendly and benevolent to humans, except she has a tendency to light everything ablaze when she tries to touch things. Everything. She cannot eat, drink, hold hands, or anything. She is the prisoner of The Brute. She pretends to like him around others, but with The Brute himself she has a tendency to be quite ill-tempered. She insults him, berates him, nags him, and he listens. And obeys. But he will never set her free. She is his forever. He takes this all, except he knows he’s won, and nothing she can do can free him. Not even death would free her. She is eternally cursed, and branded a Fear. Truly, she’s an unfortunate one.

          Man, typing that made me depressed. Either way, when we got back, we kinda hung around the Tower all day. I ended seeing the mangled remains of that poor Doll Mistress destroyed that day. Elise is really, REALLY good at Skyrim. That was something I learned today. We played it through dinner, and suddenly, it was 11PM. Before I went to bed with her, I decided to check on Sylvia.

          I got no friends cause they read the papers,

          They can’t be seen

          With me

          And I’ve been real shot down

          And I’m

          I’m getting mean

          No more Mr. Nice Guy

          No more Mr. Clean

          No more Mr. Nice Guy, they say

          He’s sick

          He’s a see-hee-hee-heeeeeen.

          At least she’s gone back to the classics. Ah well. I’m started to become truly worried about Sylvia. What if it’s permanent? I don’t want that…I want Sylvia back……goodnight everyone. Don’t be surprised if I’m tired tomorrow, I’ll be worrying about Sylvia a lot…

          ~Thompson out.