Dark Surprises.
A full moon casts a dim silver glow over a dark landscape where a snow-covered desolate road stretches endlessly between two dense towering forests, the trees on the rows at the edge of each side reaching out like skeletal fingers with their branches swaying gently in the cold, crisp air as if beckoning travelers to venture deeper into its foreboding depths.
The woods’ thick canopy of evergreens further cast long, eerie shadows that stretch across the road and into the darkness beyond, however, despite the unsettling atmosphere, a sense of serene beauty permeates the air, as if nature itself is conspiring to create a surreal and enchanting masterpiece.
Snowflakes dance gracefully in the air, illuminated by the headlights of a passing limousine that cut through the darkness like twin beacons of hope, casting light on the snow landing silently on the tree branches and coating the road beneath, creating a mesmerizing contrast between the deep blacks and sparkling whites.
With its sleek black exterior coated in a layer of fresh snow, the limo glides silently along the road, the snowflakes that land on the windshield, melting almost instantly beneath the warmth of the wipers. The driver, his face hidden behind the tinted glass, expertly navigates the winding road, his eyes fixed on the path ahead, unaware of the sinister forces that may be lurking in the shadows.
Inside the limo, the atmosphere is far from dreary; in fact, it’s a whirlwind of merriment and Christmas cheer. The car’s plush seating is filled with gorgeous, laughing girls, all dressed in skimpy red to black outfits adorned with shiny silver and red ribbons with Santa hats perched jauntily on their heads. Their bodies sway rhythmically to the pulsing beats of music blasting through the speakers, as they raise champagne glasses and cheer heartily, merrily in high spirits. Bottles of champagne are scattered about; the air thick with excitement as they make their way to a private Christmas party hosted by a wealthy benefactor, all ready to enjoy themselves to the fullest.
All but one.
A stunning young woman quietly seated by the window, her eyes, a mesmerizing hazel mix of green and gold fixed on the winter wonderland that passes by, taking in the serene beauty of the falling snowflakes outside. The window glass is speckled with tiny frozen water droplets, reflecting the cold, and the bluish light of the moon that casts an ethereal glow over her face.
She is dressed elegantly in a fur-trimmed short mini-red dress that hugs her medium frame gorgeously, highlighting her curves to perfection. Her complexion, rich with an alluring shade of bronze, is flawless, seeming to absorb the light around her, contrasting beautifully with the dark shade of her red outfit. With her slender hands clasped together nervously on her lap, she briefly closes her eyes and lowers her face, silently reciting a prayer, hoping she doesn’t end up making a fool out of herself.
A nudge from beside her causes her to stir and she flutters her eyes open, turning to peer at a smiling woman sitting next to her, moving her shoulders cheerfully to the rhythm of the playing music in the background.
“Hey, cheer up!” she says, her emerald orbs sparkling with sheer excitement, “here,” she offers one of the bubbly champaign glasses she’s holding, and the dark woman reluctantly accepts it.
Brushing the curly strands of her ebony-black hair behind her ear, the woman slowly brings the rim to her full cherry lips and takes a sip, savoring the sweetness of her drink with a faint smile.
“That’s my girl,” hums the lady beside her, the rose beige shade of her sheen wonderfully contrasting her black mini corset dress that pumps her endowed chest to a tantalizing view.
Lowering the glass from her lips, the dark woman lowly expresses, “I feel out of place and awkward.”
Flipping her shiny ginger locks, the fair woman responds amusedly, “It’s too late to back out now.”
Sighing, the dark woman briefly scans the ongoing party, “Why did I ever agree to do this?” she complains.
“Because you realized how boring it is to be a wallflower,” her friend points out with an eye roll, “It’s Christmas Eve, embrace your naughty side and enjoy the night. Someone would literary kill to have your spot right now.”
“You never told me how you managed to squeeze us in?” she shifts her full attention curiously to her bubbly friend, “This is premium shit!”
“Connections, Lysa dear. A girl has got to have em’,” she playfully winks, “I would never jump into a party like this one unless it’s premium.”
“Are you sure it’s safe, Cyra?” the dark girl, Lysa, inquires.
“I trust my sources,” the ginger explains, “trust me, it was near impossible to secure the invites, that’s how fucking chic this shit is. Relax and force that inner slut of yours out, I know she’s in there somewhere.”
“So basically-“
Cyra cuts her short, “Shhh, just go with the flow. You wanted to explore right?”
Drawing a long breath, Lysa nods and shortly lowers her face, trying to overcome the tinge on her cheeks.
“Then lose that goody-goody attitude and live,” the ginger urges, sipping more of her champagne and cheering with the others.
Finally, the limo drives through large wrought iron gates, coming to a halt in front of an ominous, dark castle, its snow-covered turrets towering above the surrounding landscape. Rich with modern gothic architecture, its exterior walls are adorned with intricate carvings and arched windows, glowing with dim lights coming from inside.
Sucking her inner cheeks nervously, Lysa hops off the limousine and steps aside, letting everybody else climb out and gawk at the imposing building standing magnificently before them.
“Wow,” Cyra breathes in awe at the sight that greets her as she stops beside her friend, her eyes sparkling with a mix of wonder and excitement.
Hesitantly, Lysa reaches out to touch the falling icy snowflakes, her fingers growing nearly numb from the cold, however, it’s not only the chilly air that’s giving her goosebumps, far from it.
It’s the eerie ambience of the premises.
A smirking Cyra huddles closer to her, her breath visible in the frigid air, “A merry dark Christmas to me, loving the theme!”
Despite the chills that run through her, and a lingering sense of apprehension churning in the pits of her belly, the quiet dark woman can’t help but feel drawn to the building as if an irresistible invitation beckons her inside, “I won’t deny it, this does have a strange allure,” she mumbles.
“Look!” the ginger motions towards the main entrance, flanked by two towering statues of grim-faced knights, their swords pointed ominously towards the sky. Right in the center, a middle-aged butler stands waiting patiently, clad in an exquisite black suit, his white gloves shining in the dim light. Upon spotting him, the group starts moving towards the entrance, and the girls slowly trail behind, the neatly trimmed silver beard framing his stoic face getting clearer with every step they take.
“Does he ever go out?” Lysa comments in a hushed tone, eyeing his porcelain-white skin that’s almost shaming the falling snow, “I mean, that can’t be entirely because of the harsh winter.” Despite the cold, he appears unaffected by the frigid air, as if he were part of the wintry landscape itself. She could sense stillness and calm about the man, with a lingering air of mystery and perhaps… danger.
“Right, so creepy. And what’s with the lipstick?” Cyra murmurs amusedly, watching as the man beckons everyone into the castle, paying more attention to the blood-red shade of his thin moving lips, “I like the suit though.”
Smiling, the dark woman nudges her friend, urging her to keep it down for they are a step away from the grandiose entryway.
She covers her mouth, stifling a giggle, “What? I’m tempted to ask for the brand.”
“You’ll get us both kicked out, Cyra,” Lysa chuckles as they walk through the open doors, tensing as they sense them closing behind them.
Inside, a warm golden light from the crystal chandelier above guides their way through the hallway, their wide awe-stricken eyes drawn to the grand space lined with priceless antiques and exquisite pieces of furniture, each meticulously crafted and adorned with ornate designs, every one of them more lavish than the last.
The rich colors and textures of the velvet drapes, marble floors, and polished wood paneling create a sense of luxury, but despite the opulence, the air remains somewhat cool and crisp, adding to the still eerie atmosphere, especially with the dancing shadows along the walls, casting sinister shapes across the expensive looking chattels and furniture, making the girls feel a mix of curiosity, awe, and slight unease.
For Lysa, she’s by no means fascinated, for she’s slowly developing a peculiar sense—it’s as if the castle itself is alive and breathing, inviting her in for a glimpse into its mysterious world.
“Halloween much?” Cyra comments, clasping her friend’s hand and slightly picking up the pace, feeling the urge to keep up with the group a couple of paces ahead of them.
“It’s goth,” she points out, “whoever designed this must be very interesting.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Cyra looks at her like she’s crazy, both their ears perking up at the distant sound of electronic music.
“I’ve never really cared about Goth, but something about this building’s architecture… is quite refreshing,” the dark woman expresses, shifting her attention to the grand opening doors at the far end of the hallway.
The entire place comes to life with music and chatter from the hall, and the ladies quicken their paces, catching up with the rest of the group.
Twenty girls altogether saunter into a lavish grand hall that is bustling with an ongoing party, and spread out, cheering on their merry way.
Lysa stops in her tracks the moment she steps in with her friend on toe, her eyes scanning the place, taking in every detail of the hall with a small smile pulling on her lips. The grand space is adorned with extravagant garlands—she observes, twinkling lights, rich tapestries, and a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room surrounded by mood lights, together casting dim, alluring lights that sync gorgeously with the building’s dark theme.
She spots a grand Christmas tree in the far corner, its branches laden with sparkling lights, gleaming baubles and ornaments, serving as a focal point, its warm glow reflecting off the polished marble floors. On a raised platform at the center of the room, strippers perform erotic, provocative dances for the eager audience, their movements fluid and seductive, eliciting whistles and cheers from the crowd.
The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses fill the air as guests enjoy the festivities, and she momentarily gapes at the bare-chested, handsome men and provocatively dressed women dancing and mingling, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music, some making out against the walls, the lush fainting couches or on the staircases, adding to the sexual tension in the air, their red lips and pale skin standing out against the dark, alluring ambiance.
“Strange..” she mumbles to herself, eyeing them curiously.
Pulling her hand away, Cyra absent-mindedly inquires, “What’s strange?” her searching gaze instantly spotting a bar packed with guests in a far corner. Something sparks in her eyes the moment they land on a cute specimen, his chiseled abs making her salivate, “Oh, wow... do you need a drink?”
The dark woman quickly shifts her gaze to her friend, “You’re not leaving me, are you?”
The ginger groans, “Relax, I’m going to get us some drinks, is all,” she responds, slowly stepping away, “Make friends… kiss somebody. Be right back.”
“Wait-uh!” Lysa huffs, watching her friend disappear into the crowd, immediately feeling nervous now that she’s left alone. She goes back to scanning the place, taking in the air that’s thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and cigars, noticing its warmth radiating throughout the hall, enveloping her like a soothing blanket, making it easier for her to notice and appreciate the contrast between the frigid winter outside and the sultry, inviting air inside, all thanks to the massive fireplace crackling at one end of the hall.
At least she doesn’t feel underdressed anymore, figures why all these people are almost bare—the party’s dirty theme aside.
Other than the costly Christmas decorations, the extravagant furnishings and intricate details of the grand hall are a testament to the wealth of the party’s hosts who seem to revel in the excessive display of luxury, she notes.
Nervously, she keeps observing the room, watching as more people find partners, lively chatters turning into soft whispers and innocent body contact morphing into intimate embraces that bring a faint tinge to her cheeks. The air that was a mix of festivity and sexual tension when she stepped in just minutes ago slowly transforms into that of a full-blown heat and venery before her eyes, and all she does is watch, not knowing what to do herself.
She has never been to these kinds of parties before; what’s more, she can barely make a list of casual parties she has ever attended, she can’t help it, she simply finds herself socially awkward and a tad shy.
She’s been married to books all her life, a straight-A well-behaved orphan girl whose talents and hard work earned her a golden opportunity that would change her life for the better—a fully funded scholarship to the country’s top Law School.
To her, outgoing adventures and parties have always been a far stretch, a waste of time, and things grew more serious after winning her scholarship. The Supreme Court digest full of well-decided cases and law books felt like a better choice and her ideal fun throughout her legal training until that one faithful day—a day that made her rethink her lifestyle, and all the decisions she’s made so far.
The day she suffered great pain and shame as a woman.
And now, all she wants to do is to prove to herself that she can be like everybody else in the most reckless way possible. She wants to channel that dark side hidden deep inside her, explore it, and stop herself from believing the hurtful words that deeply stabbed her.
But how?
How does she even start?
Her limbs feel frozen to the ground, hesitant to take a step forward. “Cyra..” she mumbles in a low tone, training her gaze at the small bar across the hall, squinting her eyes in an attempt to see clearly, the diming lights making it hard for her.
A drink would surely help soothe her nerves, even though the one who suggested that seems to have ditched her.
Sighing, she forces her feet forward, pushing through the throng of swaying bodies while awkwardly avoiding spilled drinks, bumping into making-out couples here and there all whilst avoiding flirtatious looks cast her way as she silently navigates her way towards the bar on the opposite side of the dance floor.
Her focus remains unwavering, for she tries her best not to pry on any ongoing intimacy as she slowly approaches her destination. Finally, her gaze lands on a familiar figure, completely enwrapped in a possessive embrace of a man whose face is buried in the crook of her neck, his arms roaming her back, one of them slowly dragging her dress’s zipper down.
Yes, that’s Cyra alright, deeply engrossed in her ideal fun—a small smile pulls on her lips.
The lighting seems to be growing dimmer, she notices, making the side of the hall darker, leaving the twinkling bulbs as the dominant source of light that highlights the moving bodies around her in colorful weak spotlights, further enhancing the sense of intimacy and privacy.
Stretching her hand forward as she gets closer, aiming to reach for her friend’s shoulder and tap it, she freezes, something catching her attention. She narrows her eyes at the ominous detail she failed to notice earlier, blanching as she takes it in trickling down Cyra’s back.
Blood.
She gasps, taking a step back, her eyes widening in shock at the realization, prompting the man to lift his face from Cyra's neck and curiously peer her way. Upon meeting his gaze, her bulging saucers take in the man’s face in horror, his features a contorted mixture of ecstasy and bestial hunger, his eyes burning with an unholy red shade, seeming to pierce right through her with malice, sending shivers of terror coursing through her veins. Blood drips steadily from his fangs onto her friend's bare shoulder, matching the color of his lips, painting a chilling contrast against his pale, almost translucent complexion to it and Cyla's sheen.
With her heart pounding hard against her chest, her shaking hands clutch the fabric of her short dress as she braces herself for a blood-curdling shrill.
A faint knowing smile pulls on the man’s lips, his pupils contracting as he bores deep into the petrified girl’s eyes, “Shhh…”
