Child of innocence

Child of Innocence



By: Hazel (minkey monkey)



Influenced by: Angela Carter



Written: For an English assignment: To write and mimic the style of Angela Carter but with out loosing your own touch and possession of the piece.

Apologies for my poor grammar in places.



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He grabbed her; bit her neck; drank her blood; she fell inert to the ground in the forest, alone. She lay there until the dawn broke. A young gentleman of great wealth and high in society found her. He was frowned upon for his perverse love of children.

He looked at the child who lay on the ground; her pale, ivory skin glowed, hummed. Her rigid, lifeless body lay in the shape of the holy cross. Her eyes stared blank into the inimical world that she had now been submerged into. He looked at her vast beauty. He had never seen a child of her looks, so pure.

Dead, yet so alive.

She wore a crimson linen dress that was given to her at the turning of her age, moving into her years of puberty. He bent down and caresses her face with the back of his hand.

She was cold.

He kissed her head with more care and more tenderly than he had ever kissed his wife. He picked up her limp corpse and secured her carefully in front of him on the saddle of his jet-black horse. His saddle washed burgundy leather that cushioned his mount.

He looked to the ground to see that the snow had melted where there was now a pool of arterial blood. He looked to her neck and dabbed it with his finger. There were two small puncture wounds. He then rubbed his thumb and index together coating them in the red substance.

Her body was still fresh from the snow and new chilling breeze.

They reached his house. His house looming, its arcane structure cast a shadow down upon the lake that lay to the west. The carved creatures seemed to scream at their Masters return.


His wife stood still, the flickering candlelight dominating her figure. She was watching, waiting to see what prize he brought home this time after his errands.


Seeing his wife he pulled the child closer to him, as if protecting his new found love.


She still dead, yet living.

He took out his large steal key and thrust it into the rusty lock. He pushed it and forced it in gently. Then pushed the door carefully like he was about to release a floodgate.

He carried her up the spiralling staircase and laid her a bed.


‘What have you this time?’ his wife's voice dripping with disdain.


‘A vision of beauty'.

The forest now dark again, whispered. Shadows moved screams pierced the nights air. Birds scattered from the trees that towered menacingly over the tall pale man that cast no shadow.
His coat long and heavy dragging behind him. Caressing and racking the leaves that left a trail behind him. If he had a pursuer he would not be hard to find, if anything were brave enough to follow.

No animals or creatures were near, but he could smell fear. The usual natural sounds of the forest were cloaked in screams caused by his kind. He smiled silently, his teeth stained with crimson blood of the pure. Like the child of innocence he had the night before.

The fair child had strayed from the path, even though she was warned not to. He had not smelt any fear on her, she was brave yet naive. Even when death seemed inevitable, she had feared it not.

He had fallen for her straight away; she had a soul that could be corrupted. He had seen nothing else through out the day. His dead heart seemed to pound silently in his chest, if he had a breath it would be caught.

He had waited till the ball of fire that threatened to scorch his skin had set and the moon with its cool rays had a risen.

She would wake soon.


The snow had melted discarding any evidence. He relied only on memory and impulse to find her, despite his long search she was not found. He slid down a tree to sit on the Earths bed of moss in surrender.

The wind whipped the naked flesh of the child, and she woke scared and unaware, at first where she was. She wept and the tears felt like icicles growing down her cheeks. She clutched at the velvet blanket and pulled the sensuous material around her. The eerie sound of the moon calling and bringing her a new hunger. She moved toward a small bundle of possessions she found to be hers. She re-dressed quickly and let her hair fall loose in there dark long ringlets.
The noise of a rapping at her window made her draw towards it as it burst open, a new strength arose. A new passion, flames lit in her hazel eyes and she danced.


The newly awaken energy went through her like a bolt of lightening. She clenched her fist, her nails drawing blood. A single tear, her last tear, shed down her face. She could smell the blood, she tasted it; the warmth smoothed her tongue, its metallic taste, thick texture. She yearned for more.

Her attention now brought to her getting out made her start to act using her animal instincts. She crouched low to the floor. Imitating an animal stalking its prey she crept towards the door. The door handle released easily, it was not locked, turning with out a sound. The door eased open just enough to let her out. Her bare feet cold against the harsh stone floor.

She crept stealthily down the spiralling staircase towards the flickering lights and hurried voices coming from the only room in which she could go. She hugged the wall and slowly moved ready for a possible attack.


She peered her head meekly around the door. The man was astonished to see the dead child walking.


‘What is this?’ questioned a fair-haired woman ‘what devilry have you brought upon this house'.

The child stuck her head out and smiled. She pounced making the woman flinch; She danced making the woman cry. She leapt in to the air and the woman feinted. Now she turned to the husband. The man who brought her to this place.


An odd man to look at. Uncontrolled hair, dazzling blue eyes, short and slim. There was something about him. Something in him.

She looked intently into his eyes seeking the truth. They held a secret that she read. He had unmade her so in death he would pay. She stepped forward and pulled him close. She stroked his cheek, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. She moved his head to one side, exposing the skin below his ear. His breath was quickening, She sank he teeth into the artery, draining most of his blood leaving him near drained of his life essence. Then pushed him a way, hitting his head on the table as he fell she heard a sickening crack of his neck as it broke, which made her lips curl into a twisted smile.

She stood for a while until the silence was broken. The wife was stirring and moaning something that she was unable to hear. Fear took her and she fled from the intimidating house into the dark, brooding, forest. She didn't get tired or need to pause for breath, she found running away so easy. After a while she found her self in the thick of the forest and heard the moving of feet, she was aware of the presents of other beings, like her self.

Curiosity caused her to approach the footsteps. She went at a cautious jog branches whipping and stinging her faces, the wounds healed quick.


She stumbled on to the ground causing the branches beneath her to crack deafeningly in the silence of the nights Air. She heard a moan from behind her, some one in pain. She rolled over to see a man staring at her in awe.

Giving up on the hunt, the man in his long coat slid down a tree to sit on the Earth's bed of moss in surrender. Resting his head on his shoulder he drifted off into an uneasy sleep to be woken by someone stumbling over his legs.


He lifted his head and looked at the girl in awe. She was beautiful. Even more so than the first time he saw her last night. Her eyes were wild with a fire lit behind them; her hair was framing her delicate face. He stood to help her to her feet handing a firm hand to pull her to him.


She looked at the man. Then recognised him. He was her killer and giver of life. His eyes were kind and passionate. Her mother had always told her that the eyes gave more away than you could help. She had learnt to read them and could see his love for her. A tear fell down his cheek, this beast that killed every night, this beast with his lust for blood, loved her. She drew her hand to wipe the tear and stroke his long, soft hair behind his ear and they embraced each other.

Hazel Gadd © 2002-2011