One Shot
"And she died while saving the love of her life...."
I ended my story. Book name — A Ruined Love — perfect for those who want a haunting story, a sad ending.
Myself — Zyra Vale. I am an author and I have published 3 books in paperback. A Ruined Love is my fourth one.
My readers call me "Queen of Sad endings" , "Bitch who hates happiness", and what not. Not that I care much.
Sad ending is my favourite escape.
*Beep Beep*
Time to sleep. Good night fellas.
(Next Morning)
I woke up......but something seems off.
This.....this isn't my room.
Where am I?
I went out of the room. Everything is different. I am in someone else's house. But....how?
This place seems known......
"My, my, look who we have as an intruder." A woman enters. Redhead, hazel eyes, black body con dress, withered rose tattoo on her wrist, and a perfect slim yet curvaceous body.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"You don't remember me, author? You are the one who created me, who gave me a life, my love, but also trauma." Her lips twisting into a smirk.
No way. It's....It's Elara Blackwell. The female lead of my book "A Ruined Love".
"How...how is this possible?" I muttered.
"It is babe, it is. You made me obsessed for my honey, so how can you even think that I will leave him? Even death can't do us apart....not even the author of our story." She smiled wickedly.
"What do you want from me?" I ask, tears forming in my eyes.
"Hmm. Great question. Let's sit and talk." She says and takes a place on her sofa.
I hesitate, the flicker of fear visible on my face. Nonetheless, I sit on the opposite far end of the sofa. Away. As much away I can sit from her.
"You know what, I hate you. You killed my bestie in your first book then my brother in your second one and then my assistant in your third one. But my hatred grew when you thought about killing me — making me away from my love. Now, the answer for your question, I want you to die. Just a simple thing, right? Die in my place. And then I will let you go." She says.
"How will I even go if I die in your place?" I scream, my neck hurts, my voice as harsh as possible. Tears falling from my eyes. This isn't what I signed up for.
What an irony to say this — but I don't want a sad, haunting ending. I have many things undone in my life.
"I will change the ending of your story. You want to stay with your love forever, right? I will do it. I will make sure you stay with him. Just let me leave from this place safely. I promise I will rewrite the ending." I sobbed, voice cracking.
Elara's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Tch, tch, tch. That's where you are wrong, my dear Zyra. I want you to feel the pain. I want you to be haunted. I want you to experience all the things you made us suffer. You will pay the price, Zyra." Her eyes gleamed dangerously. "Let's start with your husband — Marco Vale."
"Don't drag my husband into this!" I shout at her angrily, fury blazing through my fear. I can bear the arrows at me, but not those aimed at my husband.
"Now you are getting angry? Huh? Then what about us, bitch! Have you ever wondered what we went through when you killed our loved once?" Elara snapped back.
Her words cut deep. Maybe she was right. I made my characters suffer, made readers hurt.
But when it's my turn..... I am scared. Scared to lose my sanity. Scared to lose my life. Scared to get haunted beyond the pages.
"Please...." I muttered.
"What? I didn't hear you. Repeat it again." Elara mocked me. She is enjoying this.
"Please, please, let me go." A sob left from my mouth. Then it turn into a muffled cry. Desperate cry to leave this web, to break through this.
"Funny, isn't it? You are here begging for your and your husband's life while the situation is something else at the other end. You write about the separation between lovers and see, you are getting the karma back." Elara smirks.
I frown. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, author. You know exactly what I am trying to imply. While you were busy giving sad endings to your characters, your beloved husband — Marco — was keeping himself entertained."
"You're lying. You're trying to get in my head. Your petty trick won't work, Elara."
Elara leans closer, her voice low and calculated, "Maybe. Or maybe you should ask your oh-so-loyal husband about the blonde in that black see through dress. The one he said looked better in his shirt than her own."
My jaw tightened. She is definitely playing with my head. I know marco. I know him very well. He can't do something so low. He can't cheat on me.
"Shut up, Elara."
"Oh, honey, I don't need to make a story when I, myself, is a part of one. I'm your creation and your darkness is my playground." Elara laughs bitterly.
There is something in her laugh which scares me.
How can a humanly laugh sound so animal?
She terrifies me. But her talk terrifies me the most.
"I don't trust you. I know my husband very well. I know he won't cheat on me. I know he is on a business trip in France. He is safe. He isn't cheating on me." I repeat it again and again. Every time my voice getting higher.
"Pretty well, are you sure he is safe?" Elara smirks.
"What....what do you mean?" It's getting tough for me to speak. If something happens to Marco, I will die. I can't live without him.
"I beg you, Elara, please don't hurt Marco. Please. You can do anything you want to me, but please, don't hurt my husband." I plead, asking for mercy.
"Too late." She smiled and snapped her fingers.
⸻⸻⸻⸻
"Where am I?"
One minute before, I was with Elara in a house and now I am at a dark abandoned single narrow road.
It's dark everywhere. Maybe it's 10 or 11 at night.
Was that a dream? Was Elara just my imagination? But how did I end up here?
"No, babe. I am not your imagination. Rather, I am your darkest nightmare." Elara appears.
"Wait, what!? What is going on? We were at that house and now we are at an abandoned single road. What are you trying to do, Elara?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just thinking about giving you the feeling of deja vu." Her lips formed into a smile, a creepy one.
"The feeling of deja vu?" I an unable to understand what she is trying to convey. What will she do now.
"You see that street lamp there?" Elara points.
It is dark everywhere. The only source of light is that street lamp. The moon is hiding behind the clouds. It seems like, it will rain today.
"Yes." I replied looking back at her.
"Good. Now look at the street lamp again." She, practically, orders.
I look at the street lamp and to my horror, Marco is standing there. Under the street lamp. Alone. On his phone.
He appeared out of nowhere because there is no way in hell I won't notice him.
"What? What the heck is Marco doing here?"
"Oh, dear, there is more. Just wait and watch." Elara smiles.
Suddenly, a rain drop falls on my cheek and then more and more drops starts falling.
It is pouring heavily, so much that it can even make it difficult for you to see clearly.
My hair — damp.
My night gown — sticking to my body, looking like my second skin.
"What do you mean by more?" I ask her. Because Elara equals to terror. She means what she says.
Suddenly a light flashes on my face, making it difficult to see.
It seems like a vehicle's light.
Wait! A vehicle? No, no, no. Marco is on phone. He doesn't even know that a vehicle is approaching towards him. It will hit Marco. The lane is so narrow that even if you are standing at the sidewalk, you will get hit.
"Don't do this please. Save Marco. Don't kill him. You can kill me. But please don't kill marco." I beg Elara, kneeling in front of her. But she showed no mercy. She is just standing there and looking at my vulnerable state.
I stand up. I know she won't do anything. The vehicle is still at a distance, which means, I can save Marco.
I'm about to run when Elara grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
I twist and pull, desperate to break free—to run, to save Marco—but her grip doesn't loosen.
The vehicle hurtles closer, its roar swelling. Any second now, it could hit him.
Suddenly, she leaves my hand.
Without thinking much, I run towards Marco, to save him.
I'm about to push him, but... he vanishes?
The vehicle barrels toward me, horn blaring.
It's going to HIT ME—
⸻⸻⸻⸻
I snap my eyes open.
I am panting heavily, hands on my chest, trying to take deep breath.
Where am I?
I look around and figure out — I am back.
Back in my room.
I am in my bed, in my own house.
Realisation hits me — it was a Nightmare, precisely, Night Terror.
I still can't believe that I am back.
I pinch myself — Ouch! It hurts — Yes. I am back.
I get off my bed and sit in the chair of my vanity.
I am looking disheveled.
My hair — messy.
My night gown — wrinkled.
The stain of tears on my face — witness of my war, of my terror.
Was that true? Did I really went to that house and that abandoned road?
Is Elara Blackwell — reality or nightmare?
I get up from the seat. This is not the time to think about this. I have to do something or talk to someone.
I decide to freshen up first. Because, no way in hell I am going out looking so pale.
I enter the bathroom and close the door.
⸻⸻⸻⸻
(Author's POV)
Zyra enters the bathroom and close the door behind her.
But.....her reflection doesn't follow.
It's still in the vanity mirror...back in her room.
Sitting exactly where she had been seconds ago.
Staring straight ahead.
Staring at us. Smiling wickedly.
The real Zyra in the bathroom runs a hand through her hair, tying them in a bun, turns on the tap and splashes water on her face, unaware.
Meanwhile, the other Zyra, in the vanity, tilts her head slowly, steadily, almost curiously.
And then—her lips curl into a smile. A smile so knowing, so cruel.
The kind of smile which speaks volumes, which says: You thought you escaped.
The smile widens—too wide, stretching beyond what a human face should allow.
Her eyes in the reflection are no longer brown. They're the same burning hazel as Elara's.
And just before the scene fades to black, she leans forward, pressing her palms against the glass, as though she's trying to push through, to get out of the mirror, to get hold of.
And then, a faint thread-like crack makes its way across the mirror's surface — slowly — just like a spiderweb of darkness spreading from where her palms press against the glass.
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Character Aesthetic
Zyra Vale
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Thank you for reading the story.
I would love to hear your thoughts.
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— Author Gauri✨💜🪻
