Edge of your seat folks! More like edge of the bed Live screaming Live streaming tears Talk about true horror It’s so loud Too loud Round and round Only the hammers of hell drown They fade out the noise
Stop beating yourself! but how? How when your brain hates you
Dredging up an old fleshy skeletons And they snap snap snap They snap and snap and It laughs while I squirm While I scream and plead Snap snap snap Beat my own fists Against the floor Forehead against the bones But it’s all agony from there
Alone at 4:48 am and I can’t breathe Shiver and shake like a fever seizure Listen to a voice suggesting solutions But antidepressants are not the answer They don’t stop the nightmares; The clawing for leverage To keep myself from falling The gasping for air to keep from drowning The search for glue to keep from falling to pieces Or the quicksilver pain that follows on waking
In the small burg of Skull Creek, a death is on the prowl. Some say it is a copycat killer, out for his moment of fame, but Jacqueline DePasse and her diligent crew of detectives soon learn that it is so much more than a tribute to the only known and convicted female serial killer in captivity. Cathleen Carson. DePasse, with the assistance of crime reporter Jake Michaels and her team, soon discover that one victim survived and she will be the key, the one who must Roll the Beautiful Bones and stop a killer before he strikes again.
I’m drunk and I’m pissed off about it. I also don’t care so I don’t know where that leaves us, except with me wishing there was more fucking tequila and sort of regretting smashing the shit out of my filter in self-defence and solidarity … mostly due to alcohol.
Yeah so the hell what if the wagon was moving when I fell off? it didn’t hurt a bit. I feel nothing and I like it this way. There is less chance of someone getting their feelings injured by my lack of care for anyone’s feelings but my own.
No one else gives a hot damn past their own desires, so why does it shock that I finally caught on? My heart may be dilapidated and my soul battered, but it still feels enough to know when I no longer matter enough to consider as anything more than a human doormat or stepping stone to the next best thing.
Fuck that noise. I may not be perfect but I’m worth it and a far sight more than those lame ass whiners who trap themselves in ivory towers and claim innocence while their horns glow.
I know what I am. I know why too. I also know that I am not sticking around to watch your world implode one more damned time then be obligated to listen to the endless bitching why why why. Waaahhh.
I don’t care why. I don’t want to hear lies and backtrack bullshit to protect your less than truthful conjecture.
I really expected more than the typical human crap. That’s my bad and a mistake I’ll not likely make again.
I don’t know why I’m even trying. I swore so long ago that I wouldn’t speak to You ever again and I haven’t, until now. The Absent Moral Authority, You abandoned me so many times, when I was taught that You were there to protect me, watch over me. Saviour. The first time I needed someone, after begging the physical individuals in my life to see me, I turned to the one that I was told would always be there. But, I was left to deal on my own. I prayed then for a Saviour, begged for help and You sent me further assault on my body and no hope of help to escape. I was five.
I hear from everyone that You are still there, that You still believe in me even if I don’t believe in You. I have no evidence of that. I could have believed, after; I wanted to, and I tried but where were You when I was seven with a razor to my throat? When I was twelve and lost? When I was fourteen and desperately needed an intervention? Where were You then? There is blame, a tonne of it and I’m not sorry one bit. I Believed in You, and Trusted that You would be that Protector, and You let me down.
Parts of me still hold to the childhood brainwashing I received in the name of my eternal soul. That’s why I’m making a last-ditch effort. After all, kids suffer worse and survive, right? Every day, people suffer worse fates, and I’m alive, so be grateful, Believe in Me. I’m always here. But this is where I’m having an issue. When I was dying, trapped like a rat in a maze and willing to provoke the final battle so that it would finally be over, I trusted in You to be my voice. To Save me, after I’ve spent so many years trying to save myself, and I have the scars to prove it.
Where were You when I lay sweating on that stinking bare mattress in the spare room, broken inside from fists and coughing and fever sick from days of effort just to breathe? Where were you when I had to crawl on bruised knees and broken bones through my own blood and vomit to the bathroom? Where were your miracles when I sat for what seemed like hours, crying silent tears because it hurt to piss? I could have screamed but that would have meant worse. Where were you when the barrel of that pretty little .44 was shoved into my mouth, breaking my teeth and the gun cocked while I begged for my life? I prayed. Nothing. You weren’t there. I was. I needed You and I was alone, as usual.
So why am I here on my knees praying when I swore it would never happen again? Because I have nothing left to believe in. It’s hard to hold faith in someone whose only real action is to prove that company line is to take none. Years have gone by since l last tried, and there’s always only one course of action that remains when there is nothing left; I’m not ready to entertain that option, yet. I even pleaded profusely, offering a sacrifice to Cthulhu and then to Gingersnap the Soul Eater, but I was refused in both cases, indulgently. Perhaps it’s because I no longer have a soul.
I’ve asked in jest, and then in seriousness, for help, for a life-preserver, anything to save me from drowning. No one cares enough to pull their eyes away from their own reflection. Once I was sure that Angel’s existed; I no longer believe in angels but I’m sure that the Devil is real and His name is Technology. Further proof that You aren’t there and Heaven is some kind of Celestial Prank.
Fact is, that I’m in bad shape, and it’s no lie. This time I’m broken in a new way and my breath rattles in my lungs quite like a watery maracas. It’s no excuse for my actions, and I know that I will pay for it in one way or another. Such is the order of things. My Faith in You still exists. It’s nothing more than this tiny glow of light but it lives, but this is the last time that I will ask You to help me. To forgive me.
I didn’t mean to do it. I couldn’t swallow the swill of lies and insults anymore and instead of swallowing the gall in my mouth and walking away,like I normally do, it exploded from the crowbar I was using to open the new barrel in the garage. His voice was a buzzing in my ears, he was screaming at me so loudly and I turned and rammed the flat end of it into his throat. I just wanted him to stop shouting, and after, when the blood was spraying all over my face and hand, I stood over him and watched him jitterbug. His hands kept fluttering at his neck like red and white butterflies. He bled out on his spotless garage floor, and the delicate butterflies? They stopped flying about five minutes ago.
He was complicit in his demise, made his bed so to speak. The barrel was empty, thankfully, and made a handy storage place. But now, I’m afraid. Please, I need Your help. I’m scared and I need Your Guidance.
He says I’m beautiful, but
I think his eyes are malfunctioning.
Nothing in the mirror shows
anything close to that description.
What I see are lines and scars,
cracked crystal memories;
Things I do not wish to remember,
are what I face every day.
Someone suggested, implied,
that my soul was leaking through the veil
and I cried until I laughed
at the deadly sweet naivety.
The undead don’t have a soul.
Look in the glass, the empty vessel
mourns the perspective he sees.
Tiptoe through ground glass but leave no bloody footprints behind.
Confuzzled by the contradictory message? Welcome to my world. I suggest you run.
you’re still here? interesting. my thoughts about the situation go as thus: Winter’s Chill is a twat. On it’s heels, the Agoniser comes with his pretty, pain poisoned stick this son of a skunkbutt…his main pleasure in existence is to torture and torment everyone.
as you see, what goes on upstairs, isn’t pretty. those damned squatters have set up shop in the braincase are back and they have drawn some fairly apt, if pornographically accurate, representations of reality.
and now, to the chagrin of only me, there’s a high frequency vibration that has settled into my bones. an epically proportional ache that is slowly driving me utterly bonkers with a touch of batshit.
I remember all too well
that agonising thread of fear,
the disbelief and then
the anvil that takes out your will,
your ability to stay sane.
Steals your breath, it does,
it steals your mind,
giggling silver bells and then –
– then, everything stops.
Your heart freezes,
it catches and beats, then stutters again,
pounding heavily in your ears,
and you wonder why?
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHY?
Then you begin to torture yourself
with the constant replay,
the what ifs and the maybes,
just to be sure there wasn’t one action
anything that could’ve changed the outcome
It threatens to turn you weak sister,
and in spite of the brutal pep-talk,
the only you can do is sit and shatter.
I understand the rage
at not being able to change a thing,
at the inability go back and do something
that could affect the outcome.
Desperate to wake up from the horror
But no, it’s all real,
every horrid moment of this nightmare
is not a dream
bot an alternate reality.
Final, forever and you think.
With a sigh, why?
The desert sky was so still as I drove as fast as the engine would carry me away from everything that I’ve ever known. I have nothing left there but broken dreams and sleepless nights of unneeded suffering. As soon as I could run, or rather, walk again, I packed everything I owned and boosted the sweetest, fastest ride I could find at a moment’s notice, and then, I flew like the devil was on my heels.
Nothing had been right for so long that I was physically ill for hours when it finally hit me. Pain, and exhaustion have taken their toll and I really just need to be somewhere else. I’ve been on the road for days, and I’ve stopped only for routine maintenance, gas and a place to splash water on my face and take a leak. Sometimes food, if there was time, but I had to stay ahead.
There’ve been too many filthy gas station bathrooms; I’ve spent far too much time in them falling to pieces as quietly as I possibly could, so as not to draw attention. It’s hard enough to do without looking in the mirror while you do it. The agony of anticipation is standing with my paper towel laden palm around a doorknob and the other on my belly, shaking like a leaf. It hurts to be afraid to open a door and worry that the one face I don’t want to see will be waiting on the other side.
That’s where I am now. I’m standing here in the South Acre Oasis Gas Stop bathroom with my body shivering and my shoulders hunched against the ache. So afraid and somehow hopeful that when I open the door, a fist will hit me hard enough to kill me this time. Hopeful that I won’t have to suffer this torture every fucking time I end up behind closed doors.
I can hear shuffling outside, and the door handle is rattling lightly against my hand. “It’s occupied! Just a moment!” and I can’t bring myself to turn the knob. The voices out there don’t seem quite right suddenly and I want it to be my imagination. It has to be, because nothing makes no sense. People are stupid but they are usually comprehendible and these words are gibberish.
It’s finally happened – I’ve cracked. I know exactly when it happened, too.
It happened when he bit me. Ben was so close; he smelled of whiskey and crazy, so much that I started to gag when he ran his hand around my waist and the other snaked under my right arm and up between my breasts. Drinking again. I knew what was coming. It always started the same way and it always ended with me bleeding on the floor.
Unconsciously, my body pulled away from the meaty heat, and Ben’s hand fever-warm was against my throat, and it tightened when I tried to twist away. “C’mon now baby, is that any way to act? Be a good girl Rina, and I’ll only hurt you a little this time,” he breathed into my ear while yanking me back, “If you don’t fight, you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.” My choices were few, two actually, not an abundance of options to be sure.
The hand on my waist started its decent and I knew that I couldn’t take it. I would lose what was left of my mind if I let him get me to the floor this time. I held tighter to the knife that I was using to chop potatoes for his dinner, hoping that he wouldn’t go further when his rough fingers grazed my inner thigh and he bit my neck with a greasy groan.
The knife was buried to the hilt in the tough meat of his forearm, and his teeth dug deeper for a second before he screamed and let me go. His favorite knife was near the sink and I grabbed it while I ran to the front door. Have to get away I kept repeating to myself and then, the unthinkable; I dropped the keys.
He dropped me and my belly hit the floor. The pressure of his large frame flat on top of mine hurt so badly that I couldn’t breathe. Ben, he wasn’t himself -growling like an animal wasn’t new but the teeth and the strength certainly was – then, I was truly afraid. I watched my hand rise and twist, the blade protruding backwards from my fist, first pointed at my own face and then behind me and when he lifted his head it was stuck in his eye.
The keys were in my hand again and he howled, actually howled – sounded so much like the coyotes that run near our home that I screamed – and pulled myself to my feet the second he fell backwards, finger clawing at the air above the haft.
Across the street was a beat up old Ford with the keys in the ignition. The pothead kid that lives there forgets them almost every damned time. It started on the first try and speed was my angel. My neck burned, burns and I don’t feel myself at all, but then I didn’t care. I had to get away.
I dumped the car at the Eagle Bar and Truck Stop out on the main highway, and left the keys in the ignition but the door locked. I have no idea what make the car I boosted is but it flies like it is made of air, and I’m sure the owner is less than pleased. I feel badly, but I needed it.
Sweet Jesus, there are fingers under the door and they are covered in blood. Blood and something else. Something less – oh my god, what the hell is going on out there? I need to get out of here but I’m so scared. My baby hasn’t moved since I left, since the fall, and now my contractions have started. I can’t run, and I don’t know where to go. I can’t have my baby alone.
More fingers. The door handle is moving in miniscule turns but the lock is a cookie and it would take nothing to break it. Trapped; – I’m trapped like a rat and jesus fuck it hurts it burns steals my breath I can’t move; Baby is coming and I am alone in a gas station bathroom. Tears fall no matter how hard I try to hold them back; crying is not acceptable, ever and certainly not now but I can’t help it.
There is gunfire outside the door and an urgent hammering. I can see the steel quivering with each blow. “Open the door!” I’m trying but another contraction has me frozen and I can only scream. It flies open, the edge catching me on the forehead when it flies open. The light is so bright and it sparkles on the edges with muzzle flashes. “Come on darlin, let’s get you outta here?” Strong arms try to pick me up and I can’t help but cringe away from the masked individual.
“I’m safer than what’s out there. Do you want to have your baby here?” a male voice that is too kind asks and I shake my head, unable to speak through the agony. Standing awkwardly, I take several steps towards the lights and the masked man with dark brown eyes before my knees give out.
The television mutters in the other room, white noise in the back ground to fill my mind as I fulfil my needs, feed my tendencies. I find it surprisingly easy to forget my humanity here, in this place. To let the demon that lives in me breathe, spread her wings and destroy. The Reaper has been lurking near these past few days, his steely eye on mine whenever I allow him to catch it. Grim is a bad sport, I’ve found. I’d really don’t fucking care that his schedule is thrown out of whack by my extracurricular activities. A girl has to live after all.
The newscaster has a delightfully sonorous voice that sets my nerves on edge along with my teeth. He is speaking of yet another body found, this time in pieces each encased in a balloon and left at the bottom of a public pool. Police have no suspects. Oh look, a composite drawing of the victim. Morons, they got the eyes wrong. They always do. Ingenious plan though, even if I do say so myself.
My current friend is coming out of her unconsciousness like a champ. She is very strong. I chose well this time, the fight she puts up refreshing to the mewling whining the others have given in response. “You bitch.” Her muffled voice is low and mean, full of killing passion. I smile as my mouth fills with water, pouting my lips slightly. “Music to my ears. Welcome back.”
Her golden honey brown eyes glare at me, sparkling with dagger dripping fury that fly in my direction. “He’ll come for me, and you fucking know it, he’ll KILL YOU,” she spits at me, baring her teeth at me in a snarl so deep that I could see the delicate lining of her upper lip, pink as a virgin’s folds. Her rage ebbs slightly as I stride across the room to where she sits on the floor, squatting down and spreading my knees, making my small skirt slide sensuous up my thighs. “You’re a whore,” she bites, “you think I want to see that?” lifting her chin to gesture towards the bareness I’d revealed.
“He’ll come and then we will see won’ t we darling,” I chuckle, running my fingers along the smoothness of her throat to the shelf of her chin, and pull my hand back quickly as she snaps at them with her strong white teeth. “I don’t care if you don’t want to see. You’re free not to look, yet you did..” I laugh at her, rising to my feet on my 3 inch heels and pulling on the chain that bolts her to the wall, making it rattle like a metal maracas. She begins to sob, and desperately pull at the silver collar that surrounds her neck, her body wracked with the force of her fear and grief. I stand for a moment, watching her and finding myself disgusted with all this emotion. “You can stop crying. Your tears mean nothing to me. You were warned, I did so on several occasions. As you can see, patience is not one of my strongest Virtues.” She looks up at me, regarding me with dawning horror, finally understanding and knowing I was right.
A knock at the door disturbs our discussion, and I excuse myself to answer the insistent ringing of the bell. Apparently Patience isn’t my visitor’s strong suit either. I can hear muttering and grumbling from the other side, a fist pounded against the heavy wooden door. A male voice I recognise, in a snit it sounds like. How wonderful, we can begin, I think as I open the door and am nearly bowled over by the force of his embrace. His hands are everywhere as he pushes me backwards, pinning me between his body and the wall with a lip bruising kiss as his hand finds its way under my skirt.
“You changed the locks you bitch.” I can hear her gasping for air and trying to scream his name as he ravages me, his fingers finding my wetness and driving deeply as he bites my throat. My hand finds his hair and I grasp a handful, pulling hard as my orgasm breaks, unable to stop the groan that escapes my lips. “Turn around,” Zander says, reaching to spin me to the wall as I step smoothly away, straightening my skirt with a smile. He can wait. “No. I have something to show you. Come in here and see.” He smirks at me, and I gloat inwardly, wondering how I could possibly remain with this fool He has no clue as to what I’ve done and saunters my way, full of self-confidence, reaching to stroke my still hard nipple through the thin silk of my blouse and making it harder still. I slap his cheek and shove him away, not speaking but pointing towards his latest conquest.
She whimpers his name, her hand out and crying as he roughly pinches and twists my nipple, enjoying how I flinch slightly at the pain. And smile, flicking my eyes to her. His own smile fades from his eyes as he takes in his lover, her hair in disarray and nose running snot down her chin and turns back to me with a narrowed expression. “This is why you wanted me here? What am I supposed to do with her now?” I shrug, indifferently, not really caring what he does with her now that the excitement was gone. It wasn’t new anymore, and I’d frankly lost interest.
The newscaster was back with a special bulletin, The police had a lead and I laughed out loud. What buffoons they were. I’d been operating under their noses for months and they didn’t have an inkling. All the better for me, I think, hearing scuffling and the minute tinkle of the chain hitting the floor. A strangled scream follows and I spin around to see Zander thrusting his hips with abandon into her open drooling mouth. “Fuck Zander, You couldn’t wait until I was out of the damned room? Let her breathe. She’ll suck better,” I throw over my shoulder before leaving. I didn’t need to see the person I’d chosen to spend my life with fucking his whore, it was bad enough to know about them. This one came to me to gloat over their dalliances, to our home. I snapped, having had quite enough of the rumours and confessions. Five women in two weeks had come to me, one knocking at my window at 3 am, photo evidence in hand to make her point.
Reaper is lurking in the shadows, his bony hand wrapped around the handle of his Scythe as he watches the sideshow behind me. Perhaps he will take them both and make my job slightly easier. I fee his gaze on my face as my eyes flick up to the ceiling, spying a stray drop of blood that had escaped my notice until now. I’d been so careful, or so I thought. It holds my attention, that one drop of blood, the one thing that stands between me and detection. “You bit me you bitch!” Zander roars and I chuckle under my breath. Men are stupid, I think as I stare at that one drop of blood. The one thing that could ruin everything. I’d left my specially concocted cleaner and a clean rag on the bookshelf, forgotten in my exhaustion following the last bloodletting. Grabbing what I needed and carrying the small ladder, I place it underneath the offending evidence, and climb the first three narrow steps. The solution is eye wateringly astringent, and I cough as I spray it on the rag. Balancing on the narrow step, and reaching until I was on the balls of my feet, I wipe it away. The evidence destroyed, I take a step down, noticing vaguely that the whimpers and choking sobs have stopped. She didn’t last long, Lightweight.
A rough inhale behind me alerts me to Zander’s presence, his teeth on my side a moment later tear holes in my blouse and nip at my flesh as his hands roam across my body. I glance down at him, feeling the wetness of his tongue through the thin fabric and grab his hair, pulling his head back with a snarl. “Really Zander? I’m done being anyone’s sloppy seconds thanks.” Using the handful of his hair in my hand for balance, I step down from the stool and release my grip. “I didn’t fuck her,” he mutters, taking my hand and leading me to the stairs, “lets go upstairs.” I laugh at him, yanking my hand away, “Hardly. We have a mess to clean up soon.”
“We? What mess? You need to figure out what to do about her. Is this my punishment?” he snaps at me, pointing his finger at the prone body lying on the floor, “You refuse me because of her? Change the locks? What did you expect Jes. You’re a cold-hearted cunt and a man needs a little warmth.” It’s all true, every word, and still I don’t give a fuck. I didn’t suck off every guy who came my way, where he took every opportunity to bury his dick in whatever warm hole made itself available. A soft whimper and crude mutterings from his toy serve only to irritate me further. “You want it so bad? I’m sure that will accommodate you. I’m going upstairs, alone. Don’t bother me.” I knew I was pushing him closer and closer to the ledge, pushing the buttons and baiting him deliberately. I planned to make him pay for his choices and none of those payments included me.
“Don’t you walk away from me.” Zander’s low tone screams danger, and I turn my back to him as I climb the first few steps towards the upper level. “I’m coming up with you, and if you play nice, then we will take care of that, together. Or I could fuck you and make her watch, then cut her throat.” So inelegant, without foreplay what is death, to cut her throat would end the careful work I’d done to insure that her end would come at a snail’s pace. I turned to gift him with some biting remark, probably about his manhood, as that has always made him burn faster to find him in my space. “Why must you torture me? You get off on it…..God you’re sick.” He knocks me to the floor, his tongue invading my mouth as his hands continued their earlier courses, like independent beasts seeking to slip under my skin. He was nearly ruthless as he pushed himself into me, daring me to bite and scratch. I did; I fought like an animal until I couldn’t fight any longer. Human biology being what it is, I couldn’t help my body responses, and met his every angry and frustrated thrust with one of my own. When he’d had his fill and subsequently filled me with his seed, he fell limp, as was also the norm. “Get the fuck off of me. I have things to do now. Go make sure you didn’t damage her.” I quickly climbed the remaining steps and turned back to look down at him, laying there watching me as I moved away. “Please,” I smiled, relieved to see his smile in return. He’d never know what hit him.
I descend the stairs, wrapped in nothing more than my skin, already thinking ahead to the tasks ahead. The air is scented with the smell of blood, salted copper, and I hesitate. I could rip out his throat with my hands, being unarmed is no concern. The complete and utter silence was. The bottom floor was dark, only the drifting movements of the tattered robes Grim insists on wearing change my surroundings. Slowly I continue down, my ears tuned to any sort of noise that might alert me to what awaits me in the dark. My hand finds the switch on the wall where I’d had my fun for the evening chained and am nearly blinded as it flares into life. That mother fucking imbecile. I was going to hurt him badly and with delight. She sits staring at me, her eyes bulging from the chain that had obviously cut off her air supply when he’d hung her from the heavy-duty hook I’d had installed by the back door. Her lips were swollen and her bloodied tongue protruded from between them, as through she were mocking me. The back door is banging back and forth in the night breeze. I assume the asshole left that way and stalk to the door, giving the body a hard kick in the gut as I pass, stepping through with no care who sees me. “Goodbye.” The world explodes in a flurry of white screaming light as I drop to the ground, all strength gone and feel my breath as it escapes. “Zander….” I barely am able to whisper and he smiles, the same smile I fell in love with and it carries me away.
I wake in hospital surrounded by police and nurses, wired for sound and extremely pissed off. The sheriff informs me that I’d been injured and was now in good hands, fully aware of the first fact and still I debated on the second. I simply nod, rather than speak and run the risk of my tone betraying me, and so I sit and stare, waiting for the real reason he was at my bedside. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“I do indeed. I came downstairs from the shower, presuming I was alone, as I live alone. I had a boyfriend but I kicked his ass out and changed the locks recently. I came into the kitchen and found that poor woman when I turned on the lights.” “You were found unconscious beside her. Your fingerprints were collected from the collar and the chain around her neck. Care to explain?” I pause, allowing the tears of rage and frustration to come flooding from the corners of my eyes. He bought it. “I tried to lift her but she was too heavy. I tried to get the chain from around her neck but…” I didn’t try at all. But he doesn’t need to know that, I did touch the links nearest the bruised flesh, and ran my hands up the cool metal that was slipped over that hook. “Do you know who did it?” the Sheriff asks, as he looks out the window to the parking lot below, then down at his hands before meeting my eyes. He knows who did it. “Yeah, I do. I saw him after he hit me. The bastard tried to knock my brain from my head with a fucking hammer. A HAMMER. What kind of person does that?” The son of a bitch. Not only did he steal my kill but he did it so inelegantly, and left me to clean up his mess. I’d have his fucking head for this.
“You’ll be released tomorrow. Do you have anyone we can call for you?” I shook my head, suppressing the smirk that threatened to spread across my lips. Reaper stands at the door, his fingers tapping on the symbol of his Office, making me distinctly nervous. “I’ve no one. Can I go home?” asked quietly, keeping my eyes on my lap. Perhaps one day I would have sisters to call my own, fabulous bitches to share my secret world. For now, I had only the one who was not reachable in her travels. I’m sure she will be most unhappy with my chosen recreation. No matter. She’d adjust. He nods and hands me a heavy envelope. “This was left for you at the desk. Looks important to me. I’ll be in touch.” I tear into it the moment my door closes, and smile at what I find inside. If I ever see Zander again I’ll cut him to pieces. For now, my path calls me forward.
The day has come full circle to where I found myself the day before, the month, the week, aeons of time. The day is bleeding its final goodbye as the shadows draw their elongated fingers across the ground, reaching to devour each light that remains behind. I stand in the newly born darkness, not that anyone could see me, I am practiced in the art of dimness.
I am all things, the All Seeing, existing in both the spiritual world and the physical, simultaneously, the ever Present. I am called Bastian, a forbidden warrior in my human life, I stole lives, ripped them still screaming from their shells, and delighted in it. My sin was discovered, found at the labour of men, and I was sent to meet my own burning infinity, bound to a stake and accused of witchcraft. When mortality found me, a millennia ago, yesterday, I was spared, changed and afforded immortality. In turn, I reap the souls from those that are deserving of Hell and Damnation, fully sanctioned to continue as I was, always whispering “Nicham,” as they screamed denial.
The time has come around once again to feed, to draw the eyes from the living corpses that my henchman has found to serve his merry band of malicious miscreants. Quietus, he who stalks the daylight hours, serves me well, carrying within him the liquefied forms of his minions, Scamp, Slurp and Berserker. In the crowded streets, Quietus has roamed, searching for their quarry in the masses that wander in their daily lives, unaware that they may have met the gaze of one so baneful. So many unaware that their fate lays in the hands of this darkest fiend, they simply move about in their small lives, until one notices his presence. He, too, is practiced in the art of remaining opaque, dressed in his suit of nondescript flesh, catching only the eyes of the one who would feed us.
This night I choose to watch as they work, to observe them as they make their presence known to their unsuspecting prey, pulling them from their slumber and devouring their life essences as they silently scream in their dreams. It pleases me to do so, as I stand beyond the sight of human eyes, prepared to pass into the mortal world, my darkest portal opened by the energy my creatures create, to devour the orbs of our prey and capture the souls as they still lay sleeping.
Once, long ago, he was to be devoured and his soul brought to me, his life essence imbibed along with his eyes. The job had already begun when the seed of darkness was revealed to Scamp, who was first to bite. A most delectable morsel, and not one to be wasted, and so I instructed the Terror Triad to leave him drawing breath. I allowed him to wake, assumed my human form and offered him a taste of the eternal delights I held, those that he agreed to and reveled in, and set him on his course as my confidant and the guiding darkness of the other three.
His soul belongs to me, in payment for immortality and the enjoyment of allowing his own desires to gain freedom. Tonight he has found us a prey that is unlike another, this no ordinary evil, the darkness not a seed but a complete invasion of her soul. This one I will not spare. No, this soul is black as night; it must be eradicated from the human world and it will serve me in the deepest pits of my domain.
Within the bedchamber of the abomination that had been allowed to hunt freely in the sea of humanity, Quietus slips unnoticed, standing at the foot of her bed, watching as she sleeps . His inclinations are evident, the humanity still prevalent in his bearing, as he licks his teeth, making them glisten in the moonlight that floods the room. From behind the veil I observe, curious as she turns onto her back, affording him a view of her bare skin. I his see his desire grow further, as his hand steals forward to pester at the ridge in the trousers he wears.
Aware of my presence he reigns in his appetite, fingers rising to unbutton his shirt, and digging deeply into his belly to tear open the scar created by Scamp in a former time. A bloodless seal broken in order to spill forth the bodies of the ones who devour, inky liquid that reforms into these most evil of creatures.
First to reform is Scamp, he who resembles a small goblin, his talent is to skin the flesh from prey, his teeth that of razors and claws that tear and flay, muttering atrocities as he goes. Slurp, a wriggling delight, sinuous as a snake, she appears next, stretching her tongue like body as she travels up the bed to lick gently at the flesh that will soon be Hers. Berserker, a fallen angel cast out by our counterparts above, He who cannot be seen, his true form hidden, he becomes as his meal imagines him. This night he resembles a tentacled demon, with rows of sharpest teeth ready to rip off the appendages of his meal.
This gathering of darkness draws close to observe the others, our quarry opens her eyes, taking in the monsters that sit before her with a smile, eyes glinting in the meagre light of the room, flickering from one horrific face to the other, before settling on Quietus, who stands in the shadowed corner deep in thought. She speaks words unrecognised to my ears, using her blood-red fingertip to call him closer, offering him his chance to feed upon her flesh before Scamp peels it from her bones.
Her eyes widen in shock as the flesh is peeled from the tip of her lacquered toe, the skin shredded from the row of lethal points that line Scamp’s maw. He works quickly devouring the supple skin from her well toned body, skittering out of the way as she cries pain and flips over, trying to smother the monster that has broken through her defenses. From his corner, Quietus watches, a gleam of pleasure in his eye as he lights the pungent tobacco he’d been rolling into a cigarette. As much as he enjoys the pleasures of the flesh, this act feeds his tendencies more fully. A raspy growl erupts from Scamp, his voice low and menacing as Slurp slides against him, in a gesture meant to annoy or as one of affection I am never sure.
She slinks past Scamp, her rough skin lapping up every drop of precious fluid that oozes from the defleshed body beneath her, desiccating the muscle and sinew as she travels. I can read her mind as she feeds, the delight that she may take her fill and not be concerned with leaving this one to survive. From his corner, Berserker hovers, his eyes bright as he anxiously awaits his turn, watching as Quietus creeps closer, his fingertips lightly stroking our meal’s red and raw thigh stopping only once to blow smoke into her face. Her eyes hold his own, bulging orbs in the ruined features, a slight smile playing on her lips.
She speaks one word only, low and barely perceptible, and strains towards him as he smiles in turn…as he leans closer….
I do what I usually do at this time of day. It’s early, or late if you’re a night owl like me. I sit on the roof of this grand old place, an odd mix of antebellum meets Modern Art. It’s weird, but it’s home. And it suits us, because, to them we are weird. We’re good with it. Where was I?
Oh, yeah, the roof. I sit on the roof, with my XL coffee, Dark as Night, Sweet as Sin is my vice, I can’ t enough of this dark, delicious, nectar……what? Oh sorry, I’m in love you see. Coffee is everything. The roof, I’m getting there, the roof…I sit on the roof, with my lover, and I watch the world turn. It’s a Zen thing, given my line of work, it makes sense.
Who am I? I’m Death. I know, cool job right? Well, I’m a Reaper. Death is my brother. Total Nerd…shhhhh The Girls, they call me Maiden, sometimes Sister Death, which irks my brother so badly! AHAHAHAHA I love that. Scythe lies beside me, snoring, I really have to trim her stalk, that should help. We met quota today, so I celebrate with Jelly Tots and All Dressed Chips. Of course together! Only a weirdo eats them separately…huh? Oh I’m the weirdo. HA HA. But you’re right.
So I sit on the roof and watch the moon sink lower in the sky, it’s really quite pretty, There’s a small river nearby, I can hear the frogs grinding away, they sort of sound like whiskey soaked hard smoking singers.
Hmmm….So the moons sinks in the sky, and the sun peeks just over the horizon, reminds me of a child cheating at hide-go-seek, slowly rising up to smile in the dark sky. I love sunrises. It’s like rebirth. I know, strange thought for a Reaper, but it feels that way too. Each day is a new slay, new souls to acquire, new playthings for my Sisters. Damn are they insatiable. Especially Sloth. She might look all disinterested but she’s a firecracker. They all have their way, all special, lethal? Yes, every single one. I think its funny.
Envy‘s up. I hear her klickity clacking away on her keyboard. Probably planning out the fun for the day. Or working on the story that won’t die. Sheesh *eye roll* Kill them all already and let’s do something new!! I’m bored. It’s not safe to have bored Reaper around. All kind of shenanigans and means of Hell will be raised. You love it. I see, is that Sloth? Holy Hell, she dragged herself outside. She must be on to something. Someone. No I didn’t say that, stop watching me.
I hear Lustsinging in the bathroom. Great acoustics in there. Should be, it’s huge! Our Sister Lustis so lethal. She would be a great Reaper, but my BROTHER has other plans. Of course. Still, it’ll be fun to watch her kick his ass. I might make popcorn. I wonder if we could sell tickets. Note to self, check with Wrath. Speak of the Rage, she’s cussing a blue streak in the kitchen. Wonder who pissed in her cornflakes so early in the day. Oh Gluttony giggle.
She likes to feed. On many things. This morning she is making breakfast, hope there’s bacon. I like bacon. And Coffee. Wrath and Gluttony are hilarious. That argument didn’t last long. Sounds like they have something planned. I sense fireworks, or explosions. Probably explosions. I hope there’s a lot. I like explosions, and Coffee. Bacon.
Avariceis up, and she’s in a rotten mood. That’s not going to be good. She’ll be affecting everyone today, Think I’ll stay up here. Vanity is checking her look in the mirror, brushing her hair back and smiling. It’s kind of funny how they play off each other. I wonder if they realise it. Coffee’s cold. I don’t mind. Like mirror images, together the authorities should be sounding the alarm. Those two are deadly.
The sun is up. Its like someone took every colour ever and painted the sky with it. Mother Nature’s most garish and mind-blowing and amazing art. Red and orange, yellow and pink, blue, so beautiful. Whatever. Reapers don’t cry. I’ll cut you. That’s better. You can stop laughing now HA HA HA. Okay so Sister of DEATH has her squishy moments. Don’t tell anyone okay?
AHAHAHAHAHA Vanity and Gluttony are stalking Matt Farnsworthagain. Wait, they all are…He must be spreading the madness already. Hey! I want in! So yeah, that’s the Warren of Weirdoes, The Den of Iniquity. I’m Death, and those seven women in there? They’re the Seven Deadly Sinners. You’ll meet them soon. Good luck.
ENVY TELL THEM TO WAIT FOR ME! .
The Sequel to the iconic slasher film The Orphan Killer. A Matt Farnsworth Film Stars Diane Foster, Shayna Baszler, Marina Shafir, Jessamyn Duke, Nick Principe, and Matt Farnsworth Music in the trailer by HIRAX TWO KILLERS. TWICE THE CARNAGE
So you sit there and watch the world
Sticking yourself behind one way glass
Interacting in relative safety
Locking your heart away
Where I can’t be touched
Pulling away instead of opening up
To what end, I ask you
Love can’t live where it sees no light
There is nothing there, but darkness
But you are wrong, your eyes are closed
Open them and see, the light is there.
Kindness comes to us from the least expected places
A hand reached out from the oddest spaces
We are normally too blind to see
We are still looking for reasons
explanations for our lives
Stop looking! There are infinite reasons
To inspire and be inspired
To feed our minds with wonder
at the smallest things
Raindrops, pearls, on a spiders web
Glistening like jewels in the moonlight
A shooting star, blazing across the velvet night
Make a wish! It’ll come true if you believe it
The simplest act of love can open your eyes
An explosion of knowledge with a glance
We are only human
Our hearts an engine that can be destroyed
over and over again, and still
Fire up every time the key turns
If we stay strong, if we move free
Like the currents flow, it will carry us
To where we are meant to be
Go, then, Start your Journey
May I be by your side, mores the better
Should I not, my heart goes with you
Every step of the way
Let Love lead you on
It had been weeks since I had last been out into the world and I was becoming restless. Death Maiden was sleeping, resting up from her last outing, so I decided to go out. It began as an innocent stroll through the woods that surround her home. That would quickly change.
I had been walking and not paying much attention to exactly where I was going. The air had become thick, heavily scented with a vile odor that made my eyes water. When I looked up I could see a street wavering in front of me, like a dream coming to life. I blinked rapidly, hoping to make it disappear, it didn’t.
I found myself in an alley, surrounded by large metal bins filled with the source of the odor. Large bags of garbage emitting noxious fumes spilled over and onto the pavement. Dim lights flickered above my head. I could hear a most unusual noise, a symphony of mechanical growls, some low and rumbling, others high and whiney. I began to walk towards the sounds.
I came to the end of the alley and could see cars, the likes of which I’d never seen before. Shiny and loud, cruising up and down the road. Most were filled with men, young and full of themselves. Many years later I would come to realize I had been in the late 1960′s, watching what passed as fun on a Friday night.
I turned and headed up the street. There was a large area where several of the cars were parked. The young people were standing about, discussing a number of topics. “Can you believe Joey thinks his Chevy can out run me?” “Did you see what Mary Ellen had on today?”
They seemed not to notice me as I made my way past them. I was confident I could go by and disappear unseen. Then it happened. A tall leggy thing with dark hair piled up in an unusual manner noticed me. “Look at the freak show.” Her friends giggled, fueling her, giving her the confidence to continue. “Where’d you come from?”
I continued walking, not giving her the satisfaction of a response. “I’m talking to you bitch.” She accentuated this by placing her hands on my back and pushing. Still trying to remain inconspicuous, I ignore the shove and continue to walk. “You too good to talk to us?” Another shove from behind. The laughter of her posse is more than I can handle.
Swiftly I turn, grabbing her by the throat. “It would do you well to keep your hands to yourself” I growl at her. She smiles at me, thinking she still has the upper hand. Her friends are up and behind her, ready to attack, waiting for the word. She raises her hand to them, signaling to stand down.
“What makes you think I’m scared of you, freak show?” The words are rough and low as they squeak out around the pressure I’m putting on her voice box. “You’re in the wrong place to be so brave.” She has a wild look in her eyes that normally wouldn’t scare me but this….this being is unafraid and she has back-up. Four females that will do whatever she commands.
Slowly I ease up on her throat as I try to reason with her. “I don’t want trouble. Just let me go and I won’t hurt you or your friends.” Looking in her eyes I can see my words don’t faze her. Trying to come across as the malevolent force I am is not working. Her eyes are still alight with a darkness I’ve only seen once before. It is at this moment I realize I may be in trouble.
She smiles “go on then, get on down the road. But don’t come back.” I release my hold on her. Foolishly I believe that I am going to be okay. I nod and turn, picking up where I left off in my journey. My own thoughts fill my head and I don’t hear her tell her friends “we will get her at the cemetery, get in the car.”
It feels as though I’ve walked many miles, my thoughts heavy in my mind. What am I doing here? I know that generally when these portals open there is some one, or some thing, that needs to be taught a lesson, but who? What will it be? Will I know it when I find it? I’m beginning to think that I need to go back, find Death Maiden and then return to this place. After all she is better equipped for this than I am.
My nose begins to twitch as it fills with an odor I recognize, an odor of death, life long passed. I look up and see a it. A large cemetery, filled with old crumbling headstones. I decide to go in and see if I can clear my head. Maybe, just maybe I will be able to focus on what it is I need to find.
I slip through the gate and a feeling of home rushes over me. The air is cooler, filled with the scent of Jasmine. I can see a place in the center where I can sit. I make my way towards the benches, unaware of the women that are flanking me on all sides, preparing for an ambush.
Just as I am about to sit down I see her, the leggy thing from before. “You should have stayed wherever it is you came from.” Her words drip with venom. “We don’t like strangers here, do we ladies?” A symphony of no’s resound from her “ladies” and I look around. I’m surrounded by these women, all with hatred in their eyes.
My mind begins to show me pictures. Pictures of the leggy one. She is older but unmistakable. In some she has a baby, a beautiful creature with curly dark hair. In others she’s with a man, the babies father. These images flash before my eyes, showing me her life to come. The final image is of the child, beaten and bloody, tears streaming down her face. Standing above her is Legs, a smile on her lips as she prepares to deliver another blow. It is Legs that must go. She must be taught that you don’t do this to the innocent.
“I told you, I don’t want any trouble.” I speak these words as my hand goes into my pocket, searching for the card Death Maiden had given me. If I can find it and speak the incantation that is on it, I won’t be alone. She will come and together we will make them pay.
I pull the card from my pocket and begin reciting the words. The air begins to swirl around me, blowing my hair around. Leaves lift up and dance in the air. Legs is the only one not frightened by this. Her eyes are on me, burning with rage. The other four have stepped back, scarred and rightfully so.
To my right a whirling portal begins to open up. A window to the world from which I came. All at once, much like a magic act in reverse, Death Maiden is there, standing beside me with Scythe in her hand.
The air settles back down. Once again it is quiet. Legs speaks, “Who the hell is this?” She is unaffected by what has just happened, her only concern is us.
I smile as I tell her “This is your worst nightmare come true.” Scythe begins to sing as Death Maiden and I step towards Legs.
I wake from my slumber, stretching as the feline that stalks the wilds that surround my dwelling does in the last rays of the displeasing light of day, feeling my back arch and pull deliciously. Some time has passed since my last Journey, and my body is yearning to feed once again. I am ravenous more frequently as of late, each slay driving me to feed more often. I muse on this as I slip bare as the day I was made from the warm coverings I slept in, my unnatural blues still half-lidded in the still bright day. Scythe stands in Her place, Her mirrored eye reflecting my bonecover, it’s sparkle illuminating the markings left from the bites I received on a Journey, making them glow in the dimness of my home.
Prey paid a heavy price for the resulting injuries on my flesh, his ocular orbs still floating in Jar, watching from their place with their brethren. They are still Treasure to my black heart, their own blue pigments faded from the prolonged swim in the preserving fluid. I enclose my bonecover with the fabric I wear, fastening it tight against me, running the bristly contraption through my night shot ember hair, its curls tightening around my wrist as I pull the tangles free. The creature that stalks is close by, watching me as I preform my rituals, it’s curiosity nearly palpable in the its presence.
Raven has wandered from my dwelling, presumably to slink through the shadows. She has been quiet and reflective since our return from our last slay, choosing solitude to my company as she works through whatever preys upon her mind. She has learned her Lessons well and it pleases me, and yet she seems unsure and watchful as I administer the Final Indignities, much like the creature that lingers, and without the heavy disapproval that emanates from its stare.
Scythe moans from Her place, softly singing her discontent to my ears, quivering and rattling against the wooden embrace that holds Her upright. Her voice rises in urgency, pitch noticeably higher as Her anxiety increases. I retrieve Her, holding Her smooth stalk to my breast and whispering my promises to feed to Her quicksilver blade, placing my lips to her cool surface.
The room ripples and an enormous shuddering bang shakes Jar, jostling my Treasure around and causing them to bounce off one another. I am drawn through and find myself in a place of strange smells and loud moving wagons without horses to guide them. Scythe moans her lugubrious song as i spot Raven, nearly snarling with pleasure at a woman nearly naked in her fabrics she wears to hide her bonecover.
“Who the hell is this?” the disaffected creature asks, her tone to my ward most distasteful as is her attitude. Raven smiles at her, all teeth and deadly intent, as she speaks, her voice that of tolling bells, “This is your worst nightmare come true.” Scythe sings as I approach this creature, joining Raven in her approach.
Raven greets me with her snarling smile still firmly upon her lips as she places her hand upon my arm, daring much in her current state. She comes closer still, murmuring her discovery to my ears and bringing a growl of fury to my own lips. This creature must be disposed of, her heinous deeds must not be allowed to continue, and I nod to her, pulling my arm free from her increasingly tightening grip and turning to this disgusting creature and her gathering of darkest sisters.
“What are you looking at bitch,” she spats at me, as I gaze upon the mask she wears, the fear leaking through in the smallest expressions. Scythe is unusually quiet, and would be as an inanimate object but for the trembling that causes Her blade to shimmer in the failing light. The one Raven calls Legs flickers her eyes to my unnatural blues and back to Scythe’s beautiful sickle smile, and straightens her spine. Every nuance of her moment screams warnings to my mind, there is no flight in this creature, she will fight and she will taste defeat.
One of the others charges me, a sneer of contempt on her lips, and her claws bared to dig at my flesh. I whirl low and feel Scythe’s smooth stalk slide through my palm, catching her where her head meets her neck and severing it. The shell remains standing, taking a further step as the lovely crimson jets from the stump that used to hold her mind before collapsing at my feet.
Legs looks on in incredulous horror, watching as her sister’s head flies over her own and lands in the small silver trashcan that stands against the wall. Scythe growls her pleasure at being fed, Her edge sparkling with rubies in the fading illumination. Raven smiles at me, her visage beautiful and lethal as her teeth are bared in the direction of the remaining women standing before us. “My turn,” she speaks in low tones, advancing on the grouping, hunger in her eyes.
I watch, delighted by my companion’s actions, as the crimson sprays around us. The four of them are stunned, horrified by what they have witnessed. This makes my job so much easier. Legs will be the one to catch the full on fury of my powers but she will have to wait, I want her to see just what we can do. I hold her in place with my minds arms as I approach her friends. The fear is sweet and ignites my inner demons.
I grab one of them and sink my teeth into her neck, keeping my eyes locked with Legs. I want to make sure she can see that this is something I take great pleasure in. I feel the life drain from this creature as I drink in her very existence. Her body goes limp and I drop her to the ground.
The others are still in shock and make no movement to help their friends. So I grab another, feeling the rush of power I get from feeding, loving the ease with which I can take them. I take her quickly as well, these pawns are not my main target and there is no need to anything other than dispatch of them in a hasty manner. Once they are out of way I will have such fun with Legs.
Two down and one to go. The trance they have been under is lifting and Legs is beginning to struggle against my hold. I will have to concentrate harder on keeping her still. I look to Death Maiden, using my eyes to tell her that I can’t take the last of Legs posse and to please be so kind as to take care of her.
I turn my full attention to Legs. Stepping up to her I snarl in her face “You will learn a most valuable lesson tonight. I will make sure of it.” She tries her best to wriggle free of my grasp. Her attempts are fleeting as I use both my mind and my body to hold her. Standing behind her, my mind holding her tightly to me, I use my hands to hold her head. One on her throat, clenched and ready to tear the flesh away. In her ear I speak, softly, soothing her, “watch and know that what awaits you makes this look like child’s play.”
I can’t help but giggle as I watch Maiden and Scythe approach the last of the others.
The last of the one Raven calls Legs sisters stands frozen in place, her eyes the colour of spoiled grave dirt wide in fear. She is correct to fear me, for her life is now mine to dispose of as I see fit. This creature watched Leg’s theft of a child’s innocence with no thoughts in her addled head to stop it, and will pay most dearly for her transgression.
Raven has her Prey held firmly in place, her teeth sharp as Scythe’s blade close enough to puncture the flesh should she incline her head even slightly, the desire to feed warring with the pleasure of forcing Legs to watch her dark hearted sister’s demise. She shall have both.
I drift close to the lone woman, who’s eyes are fixed upon Raven and her Prey, left unaware of my closeness to her, and so is startled as I grasp her throat with my own hand, squeezing the supple cartilage in my talons as she begins to struggle to draw air. Her arms flail about, her hands desperate to find purchase and cause me injury in order to gain her freedom. She will not, for my fabric flesh covers are as second skin, and her hands have not strength enough to tear them from my bonerack.
A low and throaty bubbling sound escapes Raven’s lips, pulling them back to expose the sharpest points of her teeth that glow in the fading light. My Prey staggers slightly, the fight gone out of her as she realizes the die is cast and her fate is no longer in her palms but in mine own. Scythe is softly singing, her voice ringing and echoing in empty street, and Raven adds her growl to it, creating a brutally beautiful harmony.
I smile into Prey’s distasteful eyes, pushing her back until her shoulders meet the wall behind us. At her feet, the head of her dark sister lies with its still oozing stump lies staring up at us, mouth agape with the last moments of terror her brain felt as she passed into the Clearing. Scythe bristles in my grasp, displeased with being placed away from my hand, where she will stand and regard my administrations. My hands will provide the necessary punishment that this creature will suffer, and it will please me to do so.
I lean close to her ear, and whisper her fate softly, releasing her throat slightly so that she may sing her aria of pain to my heart. She instantly inhales to scream, and I thrust my talons into her flesh, tearing away the soft tissue of her breast as I drive them deeper, feeling the cage that encloses her black heart shatter under the weight of my fist. Raven breathes deeply from behind me, the scent of this monster’s lifeforce igniting the hunger in her once more. She is insatiable as she feeds, discarding the shells of many before she’s had her fill. It fills me with delight to watch her as she sates her need for nourishment. Prey begins to shiver and shake as I feel my fingers grasp the warm and meaty muscle in my hand, pulling it with a hard yank back through the hole I’d made in her bonecover. It beats still, drooling its crimson lifewater through my hand and landing with a soft pattering noise on the ground between us. I hold it before her eyes, allowing the tendrils of veins and tissues to trail behind, close enough for her to smell the rotting flesh that was the pump of life that kept her diseased body and mind afloat, the tang of the deep red claret it holds within, heartsblood.
Prey stares at me, her ocular orbs flickering from the heart and back again, in disbelief and terror, their light going dim and disappearing as I rip the muscle free of its moors, shredding it with my talons before dropping it beside the head of her sister. Her shell falls hard, in an untidy heap, as I turn to Raven, sucking the still warm fluid from my fingers. She smiles at me, a most savage and gentle smile, and begins to whisper to Legs.
Legs begins to squirm, horrified by what she has just witnessed. I tighten my grip on her neck as I whisper “That will pale in comparison to what is in store for you.” I can’t help but smile as she stutters, “Wh..wh..why? Wha..what did I do?” She is almost crying as the last words escape her mouth. I spin her around and pull her to me. Our noses are touching as I look into her eyes, through them into her soul.
“What have you done?” I can barely control the rage that boils inside of me. “What have you done? What did the child do? Hmmm? That beautiful, innocent child. What did she do that was so terrible? So terrible that you felt compelled to beat her?” Her eyes are wild with fear as she tries to figure out how I know. I inhale deeply, the fear is intoxicating.
I can see Maiden, silently slipping up behind prey, ready to help should I need her. I nod at her as I push Legs back, right into Maiden’s arms. A squeal makes its way out of her as she realizes she is trapped. Maiden has her in her arms and she is fighting. Flailing about, trying to get free, Maiden laughs. The sound of it stills Legs.
I pull the leather strap from my waist, wrapping one end around my hand. She knows what is about to happen yet she is helpless, unable to run, she is at my mercy. I bare my teeth at her and begin administering the lashings. Her clothes tear open as the leather whips across her torso. Small red lines appear almost instantly, blood poppies form and glisten in the moon light. She tries to scream but it is of no use, Maiden has her talons dug deep into her throat, choking off any sound. I lash out at her, her chest, bare legs, arms, not stopping until all of her body is covered with red welts. Tears stream down her cheeks, making her look just like the image of the child that I had seen earlier.
Stepping to her, I drop the strap and run my fingers over the marks on her flesh, smearing the blood. My mouth is watering with anticipation, but I’m not quite done. I touch Maiden’s hand, hoping she will relax her grip so Legs can answer the question I intend to ask. She doesn’t want to, I see it on her face, but she releases her grip slightly. I take hold of Legs hair, it’s fallen down around her face, and pull her head to the side, exposing her neck. “Tell me, did that feel good?” An almost inaudible no escapes from her. “I didn’t think so.” I pull her hair harder, her neck taut, vessels pulsing, I can take no more. I sink my teeth into her flesh and begin draining her lifes blood.
The blood of those who do evil tastes so very sweet, it’s hard to stop, but I do. I leave her with just enough to keep her conscious. She should be conscious for her final moments. Licking the crimson from my lips, I look deep into her eyes. Gone is the fire that raged there. I place my hands on her face and kiss her. “I hope you enjoy the hell that awaits you.” I drop her head and step back. She is Maiden’s now.
It pleases me to observe Raven administering her Lesson to Legs, the lashing from the strip of hide has broken that fierce pride that rested inside this horrid creature that I hold in my arms. I release my grasp, allowing her to fall at our feet, all strength gone from her legs she lands hard, scraping her knees on the stone below.
Raven licks the sweet crimson bouquet from her lips and teeth, her hunger slaked for the moment, and meets my unnatural blues with an eyebrow raised. A silent question asked hangs in the air between us, and I flick my orbs to the dark and dingy passage that runs between two buildings. She reaches down, clasping a handful of Prey’s hair in her delicate hand and barks at her to stand, pulling her up as she stalks away.
Prey squeaks her pain, what once was a proud roar of a confused lioness now the minute whine of a broken woman. This pleases me immensely and I hear that black sound of joy bubble out of my mouth once again. We have an audience, it appears, a dark shadow sitting upon the strange metal staircase that slithers up the wall up one side of the passage. A small red eye appears, blinking on and off as its breath curls in the air. It matters not to me that someone watches, perhaps it too will Learn.
I reach to touch Raven’s shoulder, calling halt to her progress. In the shadows a shadowy eye has opened in the poorly lit passageway, a doorway that would afford some privacy from all eyes, save the shadow on the staircase. Upon the portal to the inside, a single word has been carved, its ink glowing scarlet in the darkness: Sinner. An appropriate place to administer the Final Indignities, as though it had been marked for Prey alone.
Raven hangs back, after slinging Prey headlong into the alcove, a snarl on her lovely face that ripples her upper lip up enough for me to see the pink that lines it. This is confusing to my mind, and I stare at her as a low groan drifts from the dark place. This building makes her distinctly nervous, her jaw muscles clenching and bunching beneath the surface of her bonecover perplexing.
Prey has risen to her feet, and is ineffectually pounding her fists against the portal, screaming in her newly cracked voice for help. From behind me, Raven growls close to my ear, startling me into grabbing her throat and throwing her to the ground. She is on her feet once again and close to me in a blink. I touch her cheek, nodding and see her visibly relax. My companion had informed me of these places, houses of deities, not fearsome to my black soul, holding only air and the memories of voices raised in union.
A faint rattling noise draws my attention back to this reality, and the lush flowing essence that would feed me as the blood feeds Raven. Prey falls silent the moment my gaze falls upon her, lips trembling along with her flesh as I take in the despicable creature before me reconsidering my meal. She should suffer further for her crimes, anything less would not be a lesson learned and no perspective would be gained from a quick death.
She begins to scream, nearly leaping at me with her nails and teeth bared. Scythe lashes out, catching her in the torso and slicking a wide swath of flesh and blood from her bonecover, showing the cage her black heart is encased in. She stops mid launch, pressing her hands to the open wound with her mouth hanging open. With my talons I pierce her tongue, digging deeply into the muscle before ripping it free. Never again would she be able to raise words to spit at another.
Raven darts in front of me, leaning close into her face and whispering a question with barely contained control. Legs nods vigorously, the blood splashing from her mouth as she attempts to speak. I find this amusing, and toss the flaccid bit of useless flesh at her, watching it bounce off her forehead and into the pool of blood that lies at her feet. Raven turns to look at me, her head cocked and a smirk on her lips, sending me a vision that both delights and saddens me. She saunters off, giving the tongue a kick into the passageway before leaving me to my work.
Prey whimpers, a sound that grates on my ears, holding her bloody hands up in front of her, begging me to spare her. I will not spare her. Scythe’s sharpest point enters her body at the pubis bone, sinking deep as it tears up, spilling her insides onto the doorstep, painting the walls with the most delicious claret before tearing the tender hollow that held her breath and her voice. She sinks to the ground, slowly leaving a trail down the door, her legs folded beneath her as her eyes glaze over and her essence evaporates in the cooling air.
I chose not to feed on her, though she had reached the understanding of her wrongdoing, there was no sign of remorse at her end. She will not reach the Clearing, but will wander, impotent to the End of Days. Raven appears at my side, watching the life depart, and pensively so. She turns to me, taking in my blood splattered visage before speaking of her musings.
A million questions run through my mind. I know that Maiden will provide the answers I seek but I believe I will wait until we return to her home. This place is giving off a weird vibe and I’m more than ready to be gone.
Maiden senses my trepidation and puts a hand on my shoulder. Her touch makes most tremble in fear but for me it is a great comfort. She leads the way towards the path that will take us home, out of this strange time, back to where we both will be more at ease. Once there I will try not to overwhelm her with my curiosity.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am First Governess of Rivers of Grue, Death of The Four Horsemen, Member of the Court of Madness, and Death Maiden.
My Sisters, Vanity, Avarice, Wrath, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy and Lust, have each a talent in their own right and now are part of this esteemed grouping.
Enter here, and be entertained by The Seven Deadly Sinners.
My Sisters of Sin and I have our special roles. We each assist each other, on occasion we block each other, but we always get our target in one way or another. Our jobs are simple, we do them well. We leave our mark so all will know who has been there before, and so the Horsemen know we’re doing what we must. Death is our Governess, our Sister, and our Salvation. You will meet at least one of us during your life, you will definitely meet her.