A house of ash and straw

She woke up in a place alien to home. It was a brown hut covered in ash and straw. It was surrounded by other huts; it was a village, but this was the only one that looked burned down and forgotten. She wondered what happened there.  It was so mysterious. So curious. She could not remember much besides her name. Isabel. It was a word that echoed in her empty mind. As though all other memories had been buried. 

She could sense that a few of them were starting to resurface. They were beginning to push through behind her closed eyelids. She saw the flickering flames of violet fire, catching onto the oiled wood and stone. She watched as the fire ate away at it. Slowly. Gnawing.  Then came to her mind another memory. A woman, laying down, clutching her hands to her chest and praying. Tears streamed down her cheek, her face contorted in pain, but her lips never stopped chanting. 

Isabel wanted to ask her why she was crying. Why the sight of her made her stomach flare in anguish. Who was she? Why had she been called here? Isabel moved to pick up the straw when she noticed her hands. They were mottled and deformed. Another memory came rushing in, like a burst dam.  It was the lady again. But there were violet flames eating away at her limbs. She was placed in the middle of a chalky white circle on the ground, around a star with candles lit at each corner. 

Isabel stumbles back. This was no accident. It was not a prayer. It was a ritual. A sacrificial ritual that would drag her from hell to earth. Isabel pushed feeling into her palms and gaped as a violet fire swirled around it. 

Isabel was a demon. And she had possessed the body of the owner