#{character} : sannok

[dreadhaus-literature]

{January Collection} #29

Concrete Shoes

Be careful what you wish for, be careful who you choose...

“Concrete Shoes? Oh my god that sounds dumb as hell.”

Monica laughed, popping a hot chip into her mouth as she nodded. “I know, right? Who comes up with this shit?”

“Idiot edgelords on the internet, I guess.”

The bottom of Monica’s laptop read 3:19AM but it was a time that passed without any acknowledgement from her, as she was focused on the center of her screen; her best friend Dot’s face was plastered on half, the other half of the pixels full of their shared Rabbit room. The girls were falling down a rabbit hole of internet games that no one in their right mind would play, like The Midnight Man or The Bathtub Game, but the deeper they went, the dumber they seemed to get. At least, that was what the girls were convincing themselves of...because it was dark outside and it was easier to laugh at things than imagine something might actually be real.

“Nothing called Concrete Shoes could be real, or even anything I’d be scared of,” Monica continued, shifting to lie more on her back on the couch. In the background, the TV played a Psych rerun and she gave it a half-hearted glance, before turning back to Dot. “What the hell does it even say to do?”

Dot moved the Rabbit cursor over the screen. “Take your favorite pair of shoes and place them on the floor at the foot of your bed, as if you were standing in them and facing your bed. The toes should be one inch under the bed.”

Monica fished out another chip with a crunch, listening.

“Place the highest denomination of silver coin you have on the toe of each shoe--for example, if you only have quarters, place one quarter on the toe of one shoe, and repeat the action with the second shoe.”

“At what point do I light a candle and say my own name backwards six times?” Monica quipped dryly, which earned her a laugh from Dot.

“Uh, I don’t actually think you do either of those things.” Dot continued reading, leaning in a little closer to her screen. “Once you’ve finished with your shoes, go about your normal nightly routine. Concrete Shoes needs time to find his way to you.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“Once you’ve turned off all your lights and gotten into bed, don’t lie down. Sit up and face the foot of your bed, and in the dark, say, ‘I know you’re there.’“

It’s very easy to scoff at a lot of the things you find on the internet, but if you actually take the time to sit and think about some of these games, what some of these things ask you to do is a little creepy. Monica actually pulled her sweater a little closer at the idea of sitting up in her pitch black room, alone, and saying that sentence out loud. She may not believe a word of this ritual, but that seemed like a real bad idea regardless. You never know who or what might be listening to you.

“You’ll know Concrete Shoes has accepted your offer if you hear the coins clink together after you acknowledge him. It means he’s pocketed your offer, and now you may ask him one thing. It can be a question you want answered, or you can even express a wish for him to grant.” Dot cleared her throat, taking a swig from a can before she continued. “As with most paranormal games, do not ask Concrete Shoes about your death, and do not ask him his name.”

“So his name isn’t Concrete Shoes?”

“I don’t think so, it’s probably just what they’re calling the game to prevent from actually saying his name.” Dot shrugged. “It says, after you’ve asked him your question or your wish, he’ll either answer you with a positive that he’s accepted and will grant your wish in due time, or he’ll simply answer your question, but he may deny you. If he does, do not push him. There’s probably a reason. Simply thank him and tell him, ‘I’d like you to leave, now.’“

Monica tried to laugh at the end of his ritual but something about this wasn’t nearly as funny as some of the others they’d read that night. There was something that felt decidedly more...she wasn’t going to say real. Out of the two girls, Monica was the logical one, the one who needed a bit of tangible proof of something’s validity before she was willing to suspend belief and admit it may be real. Instead, her laugh came out short and a little forced.

“Leave the shoes at the foot of your bed overnight; simply lay down and go to sleep. The following morning, if your shoes have returned to your closet, Concrete Shoes has left and the ritual is completed.”

Dot stopped reading and Monica lifted a brow. “What...happens if your shoes aren’t returned to your closet?”

“It doesn’t say.” There was the sound of Dot’s mouse wheel scrolling as she visibly ran through the list from top to bottom again. “It literally doesn’t say, that’s the end of it.”

Well, that was typical of the internet. Detailed instructions on how to summon what was probably a fucking demon, and no mention at all what to do if the demon decides to just take up residence in your house. Monica shook her head, fighting off a sense of the creeps by turning back to her snack. “And again we’ll ask, who the hell tries this sort of thing?”

A few hours later and Monica was back in her bedroom, staring at her bed before shaking her head and moving deeper into her room. She and Dot of course had no answer for who the hell tries these sorts of rituals but they never did. It was fun to read about them, like walking past the haunted house without ever risking going inside. There was just no need to do that to yourself. She changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth, running her fingers through her short, dark hair in the mirror before she exited back into her bedroom. Her phone was lighting up on her pillow and she walked past the foot of her bed to grab it...oblivious that a pair of her shoes were facing the foot of her bed, the toes exactly one inch under the bed. The glimmer of two coins on the toes was missed by her, so distracted was she by the shimmer of her phone screen.

It was a text. JAYBIRD 😘 lit up her screen and she swiped to answer it, typing out a message to ask how his night had gone. She’d met Jason Todd on a trip she’d taken with Dot to Gotham City--somewhere Dot had been reluctant to go, but had done for her and it had paid off for Monica in a major way. She’d run into Jason by pure chance of fate and he’d seemed taken with her immediately, asking for her number right then and there. They went on two dates before Monica’s trip to Gotham was over and Jason was already begging her to come back to the city. Right now, they kept in touch via texts, phone calls, and video calls. Sexts and nudes were included there, of course.

Monica got into bed, a smile on her face as she rested against the headboard, typing back and forth with Jason as he text her a puppy-eyed selfie to beg her not to go to sleep just yet, that he missed her and wanted to talk to her. Her smiled deepened and she drew her knees up toward her chest.

« just 1 selfie, beautiful? im dyin here. need 2 c u 😍 »

Monica shook her head with a light laugh. She knew better than to tell Jason she was already in bed, that she’d washed her make-up off, that her hair wasn’t properly brushed--he always told her the same thing. He loved the way she looked, no matter if she was all dolled up for him to undress, or if she was beautifully bare just for him. She swiped to open her camera and lifted it, about to flip it to her front facing camera when the image of someone standing at the foot of her bed was captured on the phone’s screen.

Monica couldn’t help it, she screamed.

The being at the foot of her bed paused, inclining his head as his entire body shuddered at the sound she made. Long horns ran parallel to a face that had born witness to the birth of man, with three sets of eyes that would see the death of man and blink, only curious what would come next. The ancient being didn’t seem to have hair, but rather sharp, bony ridges along his brow and cheeks that complimented his archaic features the way hair might on a marble statue. His skin was pale in some places, in others it was dark as night, and as Monica’s scream died in her throat, all six of his eyes opened and focused on her, a slashing silver that nailed her to the bed she was resting against. Her phone dropped, forgotten, onto the comforter, the screen going dark but Monica couldn’t look away from the creature towering over her bed, and he didn’t seem keen to look away from her, either.

“You did not summon me.”

The voice that spoke to her had once shaken the earth, but rumbled across her bed like a serpent, climbing between her legs to whisper of sin, of stolen souls and eternal damnation that she would enjoy by his side. Monica didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know how to speak to such an ancient voice. She could hardly believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You did not think I was real.”

The being behind the game Concrete Shoes made a show of inclining his powerful head, his broad shoulders relaxing. He wasn’t going to take offense that this frightened little creature had thought him a myth, a legend, something made-up but he was very real.

“It is lucky, then, that I go where I please.”

He moved, then, a ripple of power not unlike the fabled Gods of old and Monica tried to shrink into herself; his white robes, his jacket and layers whispered against themselves, against powerful legs, as his cloven hooves thundered against her floor.

“Is there nothing you wish for, then, Monica? Nothing I can give you?”

Monica could only shake her head helplessly, wide eyes on him.

“Not even to know my name?”

“I-I,” Monica had to clear her throat twice to work up the courage to speak to him. “I-I’m not supposed t-to ask your name.”

“That is only if you were performing my summoning ritual. I came here of my own free will.” The demon closed the distance between them further with an additional step. “You may ask my name.”

This seemed like a trap, but it also seemed...dangerous to not do what he so obviously wanted her to do. He was standing, towering over her at the side of her bed, those silver eyes of his running over her flesh so that she could feel him everywhere--he was touching her arms, her throat, her chest, her belly, between her thighs. He was everywhere.

“W-What...W-What’s your n-name?”

“I am Sannok, the Satisfier. The one who grants wishes, the one who answers the questions of mortals. I give, so you may have.” Sannok lifted one of his legs, indenting Monica’s bed with his ancient weight, giving her a taste of how big he truly was. He was not simply taller than she; his entire mass seemed larger, as if he were something not bound by the laws of humans. Something...inhuman. “Tell me, Monica, what else might I give you?”

That question held such a caress in it’s undertone Monica’s head was filled with the wonderful, terrible things Sannok could offer her. Nights so full of him she was swollen with the physicality of his claim, her middle full to the point of pain and still he filled her, claimed her, still he fitted his ancient mouth over hers and spoke to her in a language that knew her intimately, claiming her in the same way a brand sears flesh to scar for all time.

Sannok pressed Monica back against her pillows, forcing her small body to bend to try and avoid him and all he did was smirk, a showing of sharp teeth designed to feed, to mark, and his spaded tail slipped up her leg, pressing against the center of her thighs. The moment she and her friend had begun reading his ritual, Sannok became aware of Monica, aware of this supple, unclaimed body and he burned with a need for her. Humanity does not understand the rules of demons, of who and why they choose to reveal themselves but she will, in time. Every mortal woman who bends, bows, and breaks for her demons learns that in time. One day, her middle will swell with the unholy seed of him, and she will know then she’s forever lost, forever bound to him and him alone. One of his ancient, mighty hands came down upon her phone, crushing it as he bore down on her, a showing of possession that whomever this Jason Todd was would not have her. No one else would ever have her again. Demons mate for eternity, for life beyond life, and Sannok has been waiting longer than most to be...satisfied.

“You needn’t tremble so, my love.” Sannok’s sharp-tipped tail flicked playfully against her covered clit, his words a sharp contrast to his actions. Mindful of his sharp horns, Sannok leaned down to rest his cheek against her temple before turning to inhale her scent, committing it to memory. “In time, my size will not frighten you so. I promise, I will fit.”

It was no secret what he meant by this, and Monica was left with the understanding that Sannok was about to seal some sort of deal in a very permanent, possibly painful way, if all of him was as big as the clothed parts. She tried to shy away from his nuzzling but his large hand came up, cupping the back of her neck and holding her to him.

“Shh, shh.” He soothed, laying her back against her mattress. “Don’t fret, love. I will make you so happy, you’ll see.”

Monica could hardly think with him so close, dwarfing her as his heavy, ancient muscles pinned her effortlessly to the bed. This was something out of a nightmare, and what she was learning now, is what those demonologists, those paranormal experts don’t even know--demons want many things from humans but most important is what they can never have without humanity.

Love.

That is why demons are so hard to get rid of, why they cling on so tightly and become violent when attempted to be exorcised. You wouldn’t want to leave your true love either, would you?

“I-I,” Monica struggled to remember, to recall the only thing that could save her, now. What was it she was supposed to say?!

“You what, my beautiful girl?” Sannok’s forked tongue sampled her cheek, a rasp of velvet. “Tell me what it is you want.”

“I-I want you to l-leave n-now.”

Sannok froze, before slowly drawing back, all six of those silver eyes raking over Monica’s face until she turned from him but she could still feel him staring. How could he not? She was...everything, and she seemed so afraid her words had upset him. His rough fingers were soft against her cheek as he stroked lightly, a smile curving dark skin until his sharp teeth caught her room lights.

“My love, I have already told you. You did not summon me.” His fingers flattened against her chest, pushing her fully back against her yielding mattress. “You have no power to banish me, and why would you? When I can give you so much.”

Sannok accented his words with another insistent push of his tail between her legs, earning him a whine that he’d remember for centuries to come.

“All you have to do is say you’re mine.”

Monica clamped her teeth together, knowing that was to give herself up for all time.

“No? Unwilling to give yourself to me so soon, are you?” Sannok did not sound the slightest bit worried as he blanketed her body with his, a heated exhale against her mouth making her whimper. “No matter. I will return to you, night after night, until you give yourself up into my care, for all eternity. I will have you, Monica. It’s only a matter of time.”

Monica wanted to cry out as Sannok kissed her, tasting of raw power and sin, so that her eyes fluttered closed, his tail pushing her pajama shorts to the side to find her weeping core. He fed her shame, drank from it as he did her mouth, as demons are known to do. He took from her mouth enough to hold him over until he could make good on his promise to return the next night, but Monica was made aware almost immediately he was just beginning to know her, to explore her body and lay claim to it, as his fingers joined his tail at the apex of her thighs.

“Allow me to satisfy you this night, my love. To show you what you have to look forward to for the rest of your mortal life.” Sannok spoke against her mouth, that serpent’s tongue caressing the seal of her lips. “And once you trade in this mortal life for the next...well. Who do you think will be waiting for you on the other side?”

[burtonmiah92660-blog]

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