Satan 7 draft sample 1


©FEY Kegs 2013

I have decided to split my sample chapters in small parts so people would’t have to read it in one go. The story is still a working progress,would like constructive criticism but don’t be a stranger to like, share, give feedback.

Coming from the fictional poor village of Shalack in Italy, eighteen year old Ivran Savige is sent by her father to Portugal and labour as a maid in a wealthy man’s home. As she settles in the mansion she’s the only person to witness paranormal events taking place in the house and when discovering this she warns the maids about it but they insist that she’s psychotic and has it all in her head. When she encounters Gredory Hunter a wealthy, handsome, mysterious billionaire who owns the house she begins to discover that he is not as normal as people claim he is.


I run. With every power it takes for me to get away, my heart extremely accelerates. Heat courses through my body with the dominant part of fear, fear of getting caught. I turn my head to see if they’re behind. Crap. They’re chasing after me ready to hold me in captivity.
Oh god Ivran run faster run. My conscience screams whilst the anxious side of me wants no more than to hide, but I obey knowing that they are still close behind. I hear their livid screams and curses to get me.
“Get that fool!” I can feel their burning desire as they chase after me to grip me in their arms and beat the living crap out of me.
The stalls of fresh goods, vegetables, spices, yams and the sluggish salespeople are scattered around the busy street, but I waste no time to distract the men chasing me.

I charge into a salesman with a box of tomatoes, the box plummets to the ground with the tomatoes scattering everywhere. I refuse to halt or apologize to the salesman. I reach the end of the busy street. I turn on my right to find my hiding place behind the tall tree at Jerrico hill and as I silently celebrate getting far away from the bulky men, a hand claws at my blue dress gripping the back of it tightly knocking me viciously down to the dusty muddy ground. The brown loaf of bread that was once held tightly in my left palm had vanished…

“You stupid foolish girl”, Father brusquely yells in his thick accent, he stands in the middle of the living room. His tanned wrinkled face hardens matching the heated anger in his green eyes, his teeth grits together. With his body hunched over he points his long finger at me, rebuking me and shamelessly cussing me for my actions.
“Papi”! I shout at him.

“Don’t papi me” he stomps his feet and coldly glares at me.

“How could you go round stealing, when did you become a THEIF, You think I will put up with a thief in my own home”.

“Stupid”! He exclaims. I say nothing to him but reflect the glare in my eyes back at him. He continues calling me silly and dumb but the pain inflicted on my right eye and on my arms holds more importance than his rant.
My Mother dips the towel in warm water and dabs it all over the battered areas of my body. I flinch, with every touch came an agonising sting and the thought of the canes, wooden stick and brawny fists used on my body Argh! I want to scream, it pains me so much.

“Be still”, my mother warns.

“Do you realize what you have done, I never asked you to steal, there was no need to do that especially when you see the consequences”, he bellows.

“How can you be so dumb”!

“Argh”, I flinch on my seat.

“Be still”, my Mother cups my face and dabs the water on my swollen eye.

“Ah”, I scream again

“I blame you, look at you grooming the foolish brat when you see that she’s done wrong”, Father points his finger at my Mother instantly yelling at her.

“It doesn’t change anything, you shouting at her will not make the situation any better”, Mother argues.

“Oh dio, so you pamper her, don’t be so stupid, woman and let her face her punishment”.

I watch him screech at I and my Mother, part of my ache is suddenly replaced with anger. My evil conscience wants to stand up and throw a boiled kettle of water at his face just so he can feel pain. I hate the way he speaks to me and I despise the way he confronts my Mother.

“She has now, are you happy”, she snaps at him.
There is abrupt silence in the room, Fathers face is still acidic and cold. His hand rests on his hip as he huffs tiredly. My mother stops dabbing my skin. I feel the usual but unwanted tension in the room and I want no part in being here.

“They should have battered you some more or even worse”, his voice is dark and bitter, his eyes stares harshly into mine.

I glare at him, my lip tightens and fury absorbs through me. He glares back maintaining the silence, I say nothing. I get up regardless of the ache and stomp out the living room before I say something I won’t regret.

I run to my room and hear the voices of my parents, Father shouting over My mother, him cursing me in every possible way and her telling him she’s had enough. I slowly lay my back on the mattress wincing with every movement and cover my ears to block out the upsetting noise.


It’s morning and the skies are clear blue. I take some water from the filled bucket and splash it all over my face trying to refresh myself from the early warmth.
Ah that feels good.
It’s my job to groom the herd of horses and take care of the chickens, goat, cows and sheep on the farm.
Salay my favourite black horse is sick which is a shame because I like feeding her but most of all riding on her though I’m not meant to, if I got caught Oh dio! I’d get into serious trouble. Salay is twenty years old in horse age but still capable of galloping around like a young beauty that she is. I take Misha, my other horse into the stable and begin to brush her hair. Bending down to dip the brush in the bucket I suddenly recoil feeling the pain of my battered limbs from yesterdays event.

“Oh God”! I sigh. I hate to whinge but I can’t take it anymore. I am weak, tired, dehydrated and hungry, my eyes are weary, as usual.
“Argh, I can’t”

I drop the brush not finding the strength to repress the agony.

“HA”! A voice behind me shouts, startling the life out of me. I turn to face the person responsible. Of course not a person an idiot, Roberto.
He is the same boy who enjoys scaring me, irritating the life out of me and coming to steal my food at noon.

“Oh god, it works every time”, he laughs hysterically and I feel the urge to punch him in the throat.

“What do you want, do you realize how annoying you are”, I cross my arms and scrunch my face refusing to find him amusing.

“Oh c’mon bello, you know you love me”, he chuckles.

“How many times am I going to tell you, stop calling me bello”

“But isn’t that what you are pumpkin”, he smiles

I tut at him. “God he’s frustrating”.

Roberto is 19 years old, tall, slim, black haired, brown eyed and tanned. He lives 3 minutes away from me, his father also owns a farm land and when he’s not farming the animals he comes to my land to annoy me, or as he puts it “flirt” with me.
“Urgh”. I curse the fact that I have to see him almost all the time, he maybe decent looking ok good looking but that doesn’t change the fact that the boy needs mental help.
“Oh mio Dio, Ivran, what happened to your face”! He moves in closer to me to inspect the swollen purple bruise shaped like a circle around my eye.
I step back. My skin flushes scarlet out of embarrassment.

“None of your business”

“Look your eye is bruised, tell me”, he reaches out to touch it.

“NO”, I snap, and slap the back of his hand.

“Oh c’mon tell me”, despite the fact that I slapped his hand he still doesn’t withdraw it.

“Look, it’s not a big deal”, I say as I grab the bucket’s handle and walk into
the stable not wanting him to look at me. “Grr can’t he take a hint, buzz off”.

“Please tell me”, he pleads

“I-I fell”, I lie. “Yes, down Jerrico hill near the market”.

“You fell”

Roberto folds his arms and scrutinizes my face with amusement in his eyes.

“Yes”, I snap again. Roberto holds my gaze for a brief second and then suddenly bursts into laughter.

“Ah oh wow”!

“Why-why are you laughing at me”?

Roberto laughs so hard that he holds his diaphragm to help him breathe.

“Oh Gosh, Ivran you are such a terrible liar, you think I don’t know what happened to you”!
Blatant humiliation strikes me.


“The bread at the market and the big salesmen chasing after you, oh you cannot hide this, the village is too small for secrets, and you have the nerve to say you fell”.

He inverts the word fell with his fingers as he teases me.
I can feel my cheeks burning red from the embarrassment and anger, anger that he already knew and came here to make fun of me about it.

“If you knew why the hell are you asking me what happened then”, my voice rises.

I am beyond furious and despite that Roberto tilts his head back and continues to chuckle.

“B-b-because I-I w-wanted t-to oh, see w-what excuse y-you’d g-give me, god you’re h-hilarious”!

“Shut up, urgh, you irritate me so much, don’t you have anything to do like milking the cows, getting a life or better yet masturbating over your wrinkled mother”! I yell.

“HA-ha-ha- OH bello you are so funny, especially when you throw your daily tantrums, you know I think of you when I do such dirty things”, he mischievously winks at me. Urgh he makes me feel sick.
“Get lost”

“I love you’re short temper, you know you’re feisty when you’re angry”
“Oh for god sakes Roberto will you just get lost”!

“But I’ll miss you”, he teases

I grab the buckets handle.

“GO or I swear I will tip this water over your head”

“Ah bello no you can’t do that to your future husband”, he places his hand on his chest and portrays the appearance of a wounded person.

“Oh yeah”

As I hold up the Roberto slowly backs away holding his hands up and grinning wildly like a dumb fool that he is.

“Ah c’mon baby I dare you, I dare”_ Wasting no time I weakly chuck the water at him.

Roberto laughs wanting me to continue out of his enjoyment but I will not surrender until the idiot is fully soaked.

Satan 7 draft sample 1

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