Written 03/22/2015

The Devil's Promise

My mother always promised me whenever she said she would do something. But when I became thirteen years old, that blessing turned into a curse.

Whenever I asked my mother if she would do something or get something for me, she always promised she would. She always fulfilled, too. When she had a brain tumor, and I begged her to stay alive, she promised she would. She did. My mother was the best thing that happened to my in my life, but she was also the worst.

My name is Lauren Bailey, but my mother calls me Laurue. I asked her what my name meant once, and she said, "Laurue, your name means mine. You are loved." I was satisfied and happy.

The day before I turned thirteen, I was super excited. My mother had asked me what I wanted the day before, and I was so thrilled, I had said without thinking, "I want a devil's promise."

"Of course. You'll get want you want in no time," she had replied. A devil's promise is like a small charm with a preserved drop of blood in it. They formed the glass ball with a teardrop shape inside, and before they closed the hole in the top, blood was poured into the teardrop. I thought they were pretty fascinating.

On the day of my thirteenth birthday, I woke up to bright red balloons floating around my room. I was elated. Jumping up, I dressed quickly and hurried upstairs. My mother was waiting with a heap of chocolate chip pancakes, apple juice, and a small bag. I slid into my chair just as she brought in a plate of bacon and sausage. "Mmm," I said. "Smells good." Opening the bag, a charm lies in the bottom. The devil's promise. "Thanks!"

"Later we can go to the park," says my mother, smiling.

"Alright," I reply. "See you later! I'm going out with my friends. I'll be back around two."

After my surprise "party" with my friends (which was really just a gathering with a lot of junk food), I met my mom at the playground. "So where do you want to go?" I asked curiously.

"We'll go to the woods over there. It'll be quieter," my mother replied. As we arrived, I noticed a slight change in my mother's appearance. She seemed to be slightly tinted in red. However, I didn't say anything about it. But then, she spun around and grabbed me. I screamed. She had grown horns and and her skin was red and glowing faintly. Long fangs protruded from her mouth. Razor-sharp claws were in place of fingernails. Maria Bailey had become the Devil.

I scrambled back out of her reach, but she grabbed my wrist again and produced a gasoline can filled with tar and crude oil. Soon, I was drenched from head to toe in it and, bringing out a match, she laughed and said, "Enjoy your death! And one more thing... Your name means not loved." And then the match lit the oil and my world went up in flames.