QUEEN OF THE SOUTH

Euphoria consumes a man’s body; he’s now floating in a cool wind that guides him to a beckoning garden of unfamiliar flowers. Through a kaleidoscope of alternating bright colors, he hears his name, as if someone is screaming for him. He tells the other voice he is near, just needs more time. It cries his name louder, faster. He reaches the garden, finally able to see up close the different shades of red of the strange flowers. One brushes against his hand. He gawks at its scarlet hue; the petals feel soft between his fingertips. They leave behind a red red stain that reminds him of blood. He turns away from his red hand to look closer at the flower. His chest tightens and stomach curls at the sight of yellow eyes staring back at him. He tries to run away, but stumbles back into more flowers. Again, the voice shouts his name. “I’m here!” He yells, scared to death and hoping whoever is calling him can save him.

“Yes. You are,” says a smooth whisper in his left ear. 

“Wha–” The piercing yellow eyes now close to his face strike him silent. He tries begging for his life with a shaky breath as more creatures that have scratched red skin, gaping mouths unable to cover their seething teeth, and ominous golden eyes crawl toward him like spiders. Now, all he can do is scream and wince in pain as they cut open his stomach, shred his face, and pull on his limbs until they come off. 

*** 

“Another suicide on the gang-ridden North end of the city. A man, aged twenty-six, jumped off a ten-story building at around nine tonight. The only witness is a woman who continues to scream the victim’s name and insists that this is the doing of the ‘street witch’ known as Deyana–”

“Street witch?” Deyana chuckles, taking a puff of her cigarette. She blinks an eye and the television switches off. “Bet you learned now.” 

 Her enemy, the witch named Elise, has cast too many spells, performed a disrespectful amount of rituals on sacred ground that does not belong to her, and even slain animals and children to scare Deyana from stepping foot in her stronghold in the North. But of course, that only enraged Deyana more and forced her to step out of bounds. The man who jumped to his death was poisoned by one of her spells. Wearing a hooded cloak, Deyana snuck into the North side and stalked her brother for hours. When he turned a dark corner, she blew the poisonous dust into his eyes and blinded him. It set his mind free, trapped him in a dream state.

Elise’s mother will see a worse fate. 

Deyana flicks her unfinished cigarette out of the window; now that the moon is full, it is time to start the ritual. With the snap of her finger, she morphs out of the blood of her slain enemy. His body, broken to pieces and flattened, has yet to be cleared from the street, which should make the spell even stronger. 

“How dare you show your face here, heathen witch! You will suffer for this!” shouts a disheveled woman scrubbing the ground. 

“If you raised your daughter better, this would never have happened.” 

She leaps from the ground, reaches for something silver on her hip. “Disrespectful cun–” 

With ease, Deyana pushes her back and choke slams her against the wall. “You’ve been out here scrubbing for some time now, old bitch.” She sticks her blade in her belly and twists. “You must be tired.” 

A green ball of light dissipates in Elise’s mother’s dying hand as Deyana stabs another knife into it. Her blood seeps into the cracks of the valley; she’s left gasping her last breaths, unable to move—exactly how Deyana wants her. 

The body, now weakened and drained, is easy to slice open from the neck to the pelvis. Her filthy old organs are removed and thrown in a pile on the ground. Luckily, her son’s body is soft and shattered enough to fit comfortably inside of the carcass and allow Deyana to sear the opening shut with fire from her finger. She sets fire to the pile of organs, mumbles one of her evil magic incantations, and as the fires rapidly grow and roar, cackles as she fades away. 

She reappears back in the streets of the South, still laughing about her own wickedness. But it comes to an abrupt stop when she looks up at her apartment building that is now draped with her two children’s bodies. She’s never left them unprotected. Whatever capable magic is dark and more powerful. She cries their names, “Jalana! Reggie!” A light sparked on them from her palm shines on their sewn mouths and eyes. 

“Bitch!” shouts a familiar voice, accompanied by razor claws that draw blood from Deyana’s neck. “You killed my brother!” 

“Oh, Elise, you finally saw that.” 

“I’ll ki–”

“Save your anger.” Deyana snickers, “you should see what I did to your mother before you waste energy.” The shift in Elise’s demeanor to shock and concern fuels Deyana’s amusement. “I just finished with her. Easy prey.” Elise attacks with swift strikes. Deyana evades and lands a few of her own. “I was only trying to teach you a lesson, Elise. You becoming head witch in the North carries no weight down here. I don’t want this to get any worse than it has to.” 

Elise’s slow chuckle turns into a burst of laughter as she says, “it’s already gotten worse!” A snap of her fingers and the entire North is illuminated by pale blue light, revealing numerous citizens of the North floating in the sky.

“What? How?” Deyana curses. 

“You underestimated me!” 

The fool lunges at Deyana with a conjured sword made of ice. The two of them battle; cast life threatening spells and strikes with their whimsical blades, cut each other to their bones, fill the atmosphere with magic and colors– like looking into a kaleidoscope of death. Their powerful attacks erupt the ground, shatter windows, and disrupt the naturalness of the sky. 

Deyana’s magic keeps the humans from bursting, but it won’t be strong for long. The circle she created to keep them whole is fading and when it does, the sky will rain blood, and everyone she swore to protect will be gone.

Haze fills the air. The smell of smoke diverts their attention. “Oh, right.” A moment to breathe, Deyana lights a cigarette. “About a quarter of the North must be up in flames by now.” She glances smugly at her exhausted opponent. “I used your mother as a catalyst for it.” 

Shrieking and crying like a brat, Elise runs toward Deyana with a blade in one hand and an icy spell in the other. One long drag, then Deyana flicks her cig in the air. It explodes into blinding sparks and sets fire to their surroundings. Elise, now dazed and vulnerable, lands directly on Deyana’s blade, and as she sticks it in further, Deyana’s citizens come floating down like calm snow. 

Her bloody shirt now in Deyana’s grasp, she can finally get a good look at the witch who tried her authority. An eerie smile and the position of her eyes breathes something ominous into Deyana’s thoughts. She follows her dead enemy’s eyes; saddened and mortified, she drops Elise’s cold body, and tears swell up her eyes at the sight of her children’s burned bodies. “No… no…” she cries. 

Everyone behind her cheers and applauds, praises Deyana for saving them from the torment of Elise’s spell. The pain of her wounds is weightless compared to the shock of her own undoing. She mumbles their names, “Jalana… Reggie…” The crowd of people gathering doesn’t understand her pain. They only care about themselves. All the work she’s done to protect the citizens of the South, from healing their weak and pathetic loved ones from disease to nearly dying for them against witches imposing on their miserable lives. It’s their fault. They allowed Elise to walk into Deyana’s home while she was gone. She only left to protect them, and they failed her! She has never failed them, and now she has paid the ultimate price for it. Her children did not deserve to be burned alive by her anger… no. “They do.” 

The fire in the North rages on. She questions living in a world without Jalana and Reggie and the guilt of her failure to keep them alive. Deyana turns to the gawking crowd, stares at them with dead eyes that see her next victims before her.

 They all pretend to be thankful. Her weary heart wants their petty souls to suffer. 

Fire has always been Deyana’s friend and calling. It beckons her in every stage of her life. It is a cure for her weaknesses and a weapon to her enemies. She lives by fire, and she will die by it as well. But not before asking for forgiveness. 

She harnesses the rest of her energy in a crimson sphere that spins like a whirlpool. Within it are flames from the depths of Hell, hot and strong enough to consume every dolt in the North and South. A portal opens, leaving her audience baffled. Monsters and demons that dwell in Hell peek through with curious eyes and seething teeth. She will give her life for one last request.

The harshness of their voices speaks to Deyana in foreign languages that only she can understand. Each of them demands to know why they were summoned, and in return, Deyana asks in her native tongue for her children to return to her with the petty humans before her as a sacrifice. The crowd of fools gasps and runs in fear. 

In the form of fire, the demons rip apart her enemies, devour their flesh, and burn them alive. Screams of human agony grow, and again, Deyana can have the last laugh. 

The more the demons eat, the more her children flourish out of blood, bone, and rotted flesh. But she knows there is no amount of souls that can return her children as whole as they were, but to see them, with gray, molded skin and beady red eyes, and hear them try to say ‘mother’ through an underdeveloped tongue, is still enough. “My children… I’m so sorry,” Deyana cries as she kisses their plushy foreheads. She refuses to express the searing pain of the flames brushing her skin. The muffled cries and screams of Reggie and Jalana carry enough torment to live with her in Hell for eternity. 

THE END