End of Days


Key Sixteen: Marion:

Ophelia sat across from Marion.

“Tell me again what you’re talking about,” Marion said. Ophelia lifted her chin.

“Have you seen a red ballerina lately?” she asked.


“I’m starting to see her again.” Ophelia let that statement just hang there. Marion shook her head.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said.

“You have, haven’t you?” the other angel asked.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Marion said.

“Please!” Ophelia shouted. She grabbed her by the hands. The other angel tried to pull out of her grasp.

“Let me go,” she said. The French angel wouldn’t let up. Marion sighed and groaned.

“Yes,” she said. Ophelia’s eyes widened.

“You have?” she asked.

“Yes,” Marion said. Ophelia sighed and dropped her head.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s proof that I’m not crazy.” The other angel frowned. She couldn’t tell her.


It’s getting worse. Why won’t she go away? Ophelia tried not to look into the ballerina’s eyes. She started showing up when she wasn’t having sex. That damned ballerina just stands there, glaring at her. Ophelia doesn’t know how to make her go away.

Please leave me alone. I don’t know what you want.

The dancer stared at her. No emotion in her eyes. The red popped compared to her pale skin. It didn’t help that she looked so thin.

Ophelia sees her every night now. This damned ballerina won’t leave. Words won’t reach her. The ballerina knew not what emotion was. The angel shut her eyes and started to pray.

Please! Why can’t you leave? What do you want from me? Why won’t you leave me alone?

The angel doesn’t try to sleep anymore. She sees the angel’s face. There are no eyes. Just two deep cherry red pits. They seemed to be screaming at her. Ophelia always woke up screaming in a cold sweat.

“Shut up!” one of the other captive angels would yell. The French angel could only lie still and wait for it to pass. That used to work. But lately, sex has been making it worse. Was she actually feeding it? No, it couldn’t be just her.

There were many of her fellow angels forced into sex slavery. Ophelia got to thinking. Can they see that damned ballerina too? If so, they didn’t say anything about it.

Ophelia shook her head. She had to put a stop to this before it wrecked her head. The French angel knew who to start with.


She had been trying to ignore her for days. Ophelia just had to go and ruin that. The first sighting came five nights ago.

Another monster, another job.

Usually, Marion would just lie there and take it. Her eyes wandered off to other places in the room. But that night was different.

Huh? Who is that?

A figure stood in the corner of the room. Marion neared her eyes. She tried to tune out the moaning of the monster on top of her. Even his foul scent couldn’t tear her attention away from the figure in the doorway. Was that…

That damned ballerina stood watching her. No words. Just staring at her. Marion lifted her head. Who are you?

The monster pushed her back down. That wasn’t the last time that Marion would see that ballerina.

So now, she was facing Ophelia in their cage. The other angel looked down at her hands.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s proof that I’m not crazy.” The other angel frowned.

“And?” Marion asked.

“And what?” Ophelia asked.

“What do you expect us to do about it?” she asked. The French angel looked around for a second. What she said next made Marion’s stomach drop. She wished that Ophelia hadn’t asked at all. But now, it was too late. All because of those damned seven words that came out of her mouth.

“I don’t think we’re the only ones.”

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