The Dark Arts

We want a girl.
After two cute boys, all we wish for is a girl to complete our family.
“Any day now,” I think, gently patting my tummy.
She kicks in glee.


The nursery is ready for its inhabitant, plastered completely in baby blue color with a tiny window on the wall opposite the door.
The red mahogany cot sits primarily in the middle, a huge contrast against the blue of the room.
The toys are already selected for the baby- a giant honey-colored teddy bear, stuffed white dogs that looked real to the eye, several dolls ranging from the little curly-haired African one to the golden-haired long-legged button-eyed one.


I sigh and firm my resolve to keep her away from evil.


–A Month Later–


Our wish is granted.
It is a girl.


Oh, she is beautiful with fluffy blonde hair as soft as velvet and green emerald eyes and lips as red as wild red gooseberries and skin as smooth as butter.
Even her laugh is melodious like that of a cuckoo.
Yeah, she came out giggling.


We call her Lamar, meaning liquid gold.
She is our little precious gem.


I promise myself never to let any harm touch her.


–Five Months Later–


She sleeps peacefully.
She is indeed a special child, never crying and never giving her Mommy a hard time.
I caress her silky hair slightly, kiss her tiny nose and just as I am about to turn, I see those scratches on the side of the cot.
It is as if someone had tried to slice the wood with nails.
I gaze at Lamar’s pointed nails before going back to my room.


I won’t let the bad be around her.


–Two Years Seven Months Later–


Lamar is unstoppable. She is this tiny ball full of energy; one second pulling her Daddy’s hair and in the next, scraping out every bit of cotton from her teddy bear shredding it to a mess.
I frown at the length of her hair. It is almost touching her waist even though I had them cut just two weeks back. They grow at an impossible speed.
Her skin is lovelier than I remember it to be, with creamy white finesse and cherry cheeks.
Ah, her innocent beauty brings tears to my eyes.


She follows a line of ants and giggles as she stomps over them.
I yell at her, but she just hops off laughing.


I vow to protect her from all fouls.


–Four Years Later–


Lamar bit her classmate.
I get a call from her headmistress complaining about her misconduct and I am shocked to know that she is quite a bully in her school.
I feel ashamed and more than that, I feel scared of what she might turn into if I don’t curb her in time.


That day, for the first time, I punish her by putting her into the basement for the whole day and night and not giving her any food.
I keep on reassuring myself that it is for her own good; that it is to hide her from her evil roots.
When I open the door to the basement the next day, I see something that chills my blood and gives me shivers in that heat.
Dead spiders and flies lie scattered around her, and the half-eaten body of a rodent with dried blood around it is lying next to where she sits.
She smiles at me through a crooked curve of the lips, and it becomes the most horrifying sight I have ever seen.


–Three Years Later–


It is her tenth birthday and as usual she is totally unperturbed as if it is no big deal.
Lamar has grown into a quiet, soft-spoken child just as I wanted her to be. Gone is the little devil who would pull a prank and run away cackling, or who would pick a fight with the neighbor’s kid and end up bruising him.
In place of her is now a mature kid who gazes into the unknown as if pondering on life-shattering questions, and a meticulous seeker who has a thirst for everything.
Her unnaturalness sometimes worries me, I wonder if her quietness will be taken as her weakness.


She rarely talks to me or her Daddy now. Most of the time she is locked up in her room and when I go to her room to see if she needs anything, she stares so deep inside my eyes that I feel bared down to the last layer of my soul.
It feels like she can read me better than myself, and at times I see her smirking ever so lightly that it makes me wonder if it was real or just my imagination.


I always scurry away from her room with a fast heartbeat and breaths in gasps.


–Six Years Later–


I turn sixteen today.
Finally, the day has come when I will rule over the world.


Just a little ceremony, worshipping ‘Him’, and I become the rightful heir to ‘His’ throne.


I drug their dinner with sedatives and wait for them to pass out. When they do, I drag them one by one, down to the basement and then tie all four of them together with a tight rope in case they wake up and try to stop me.


Nothing can stop me now.


I hear Mommy stir a little, and wait for her to get up.
I can see her eyes grow big in fear when she sees herself, Daddy, and my brothers in that condition.


She questions my intentions in a croaky whisper and I answer her with a grin and chilled silence.


What did they think?
That I’d never know my identity?
That I’d never find out that they begged for me from ‘Him’ when God refused to answer their prayers?


Just as the clock strikes twelve and the moon shines brighter than anything, I lay them down in front of ‘His’ idol and chop off their heads one by one.


I offer their blood to ‘Him’ and then drink a little myself too.


Not soon after, I hear ‘His’ booming voice, “I, the Devil, the Satan, choose you, Lamar, as the rightful heir to my throne. You shall be worshipped as my daughter, as you rightfully are, and humankind shall dread your presence amongst them. You shall have the power to destroy souls or demonize them at your wish. You, my dear, shall remain immortal for the rest of your life. Death will be under your command and henceforth, you shall prevail as The Devil’s Daughter!”




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