dying in a drowning embrace

Passion burns and she gasps
Earthshake quivering over a rigid rising
when he pulls the pleasure from her belly
Rhythmic motion of riding the ocean sighs

He watches desire rise from her chest
It’s a tsunami of tangled bodies
Her cries rise like a bird in flight
Both clinging to love
like a life preserver
While dying in a drowning embrace


©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Rolling the Beautiful Bones – coming soon to Fear Front Publishing

The Statue of She

She sits in silence,

her eyes closed with a

sweet distracted smile on her lips

Oh, she pretends to blend in

with the crowd and fails

He says that she wasn’t meant to

but stand out like a glorious statue

in the middle of a war-torn slum

And she is so blissfully unaware

of the watchful, covetous stares

they do not register, only his does

At the mention of her name,

the sapphire lasers flicker open

blushing at being caught

with her mind wandering

Her eyes bore holes into his

with a flicker of laughter

embarrassed she looks away

with a sigh and a flush

Closing her pretty eyes again

as though her actions are

an invisibility cloak

He can’t understand how

she can’t see that she is beautiful

That insecure creature with a

masque crazy glued in place

She doesn’t understand that when

the masque lifts, and the

makeup is washed way

That she shines like the devil

dressed in Angel’s wings

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Final Memory

The blackness of unconsciousness has monsters in it, slithery horrible things that resemble nothing close to peace. Floating in some breathless place, I wasn’t and then I was. Like a light flashing on, or a flipped switch. What is a light?What is a switch?

Flip the switch, blind the night.

The reality is that my eyes are sizzling in their sockets, and the white light aches in my head. What am I? Who…am I…? I have a name; had one before I was l lost in the noxious nightmare of comatose horror. I have an identity; a life, people who care – someone must miss me…

I heard my name spoken in whispers – while lost in my own head – by a voice that left me shivering as I recall it now, and it strikes fear in my chest. It can’t be true but I know my own ears and I thought that I was alone, then. I can’t remember the name now. Nothing works and I’m broken. I really am broke this time.  My head aches and I think it’s bleeding, from the sick, slick sensation of warm wetness on my neck.

The darkness is back and so is the voice, hissing slowly and clearly into my ear and I’m ashamed to admit that it makes me burn with desire. With knowledge.

My name is Bonnee Waitless.

I don’t know where I am, and that’s a big concern because my world is pitch, and seems darker because it was so blindingly bright before. I know that I am awake, aware at least; my eyes are open, and I can feel my nails digging into my cheek so I’m almost sure that this isn’t a dream. I think I know what the darkness is, but I don’t know why it is here. Wherever here is. There are too many questions and not enough answers; I can’t find answers sitting in my ass lost here in the dark. Why is this happening? Why now?

Time to take inventory:

I am afraid.  I know nothing yet it seems that I already know everything. I know that I need to move from the floor and find an egress of any sort,  but the air is molasses and my body doesn’t respond.

There is something else, as well.   I’m no longer alone. What is that sound? A panting in the shadows, frightened or maybe hungry. Perhaps it’s a dog, and if so, it’s probably frightened as well. “Here boy! I don’t bite!”

A breathless whisper seems to surround me; taunting, titillating, and that’s when I realize that the panting is no dog. I don’t know what it is, but I called it and it came with teeth and an agony tipped tongue that peels the skin from my cheek.

I wish I wasn’t.

And then it was light.

“Waitless.”  Bang.  The recoil on the recollection is like a cannonball to the gut.  The same baritone I heard in the cellar when I was a child that came with a stench and an itch that never subsided until after Father Ibriham came and –

It slithers, like fog, sinuously creeping as though it is alive, amd implausibly, it is.  I can’t scream; can’t even moan because my throat is ice and my lungs fire when its needle tipped tongue enters my ear and begins laying eggs of a different knowledge there.

Gods help me.

Praying for death only amplifies the pain in my head before it suddenly subsides with a manic giggle that bounces about in my brain . The betrayal of my body as it strains towards the horror as if in orgasm is a worse torture that anyone can imagine and I can feel a glow of soft, bitter pain that comes with being taken over. I have no power to resist nor the will to.

Lost in space, free will taken and given without reservation. The Devil finally found me, exactly as was promised long ago in that  cellar, in another time.  I can’t fight anymore. It just feels too good to battle a continuous, all-encompassing release. I wish…

I wish I were dead but it wants me alive – my throat!

“Now I am Bonnee Waitless. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

©MelanieMcCurdie2016

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Satisfaction

I hit him. I balled up my fist and hit him square in the sniffer. I’ve always said that if I had the chance,  if I were ever in the perfect time and at the perfect place, I would punch Billy Sharp just once and make it count for everything.  It didn’t happen that way, though, and you know what they say; once is never enough.  I wish I could say it was only twice or thrice but no, it was many, many more than that.  I regret nothing.

It was bad enough that I was in certain company and that tossing a table,  attempting to murder what would appear to be an innocent man with my four-inch stiletto would be entertaining, but poor form. Still, the moment alone in my head with a mental movie of him screaming in agony with my Jimmy Choo treasure sticking out of his left eye and the toe of my shoe keeping time with his tuneful yelping was almost hysterical. I actually fought the urge to laugh out loud lest it give the douche the idea I was happy to see him.  Yet there I was, with a spoonful of crème brûlée frozen halfway to my lips and that motherfucker standing there in front of me smug and sporting a smirk.

The crème brûlé needed work, but it dampened the dangerous tinny gall that filled my mouth. Wiping my lips delicately on the cloth napkin, I stood, giving the fellas to each side a glance at the skull-and-roses embossed nylons I wore on what my besties call da pinz. They didn’t match my business attire but c’est la guerre.  I didn’t care what they saw as I returned Billy’s smirk with a grin,.  I didn’t even mind the feather touch of a warm palm sliding along my inner thigh as I stepped around to the other side of the table and punched that dicksicle in the face with every ounce of coiled rage I possessed.  One punch. Make it count. I rang his bell hard enough to make him stagger.

The first hit hurt my hand and broke his nose. I felt it crunch under my knuckles like eggshells, and admittedly, I liked the way Billy squealed in surprise. Like s stuck pig. Fucker didn’t see it coming and how could he? He was so busy watching himself in the reflection of the coffee shop window to realise my fist was hurtling towards his handsome face.  I could hear the muted voices of several of my cohorts, ranging from stunned gasps to aroused horror.  I liked it.  He collapsed to the ground like a sack of hammers and I landed as hard on his chest with my fist still pumping like a piston.   I liked that too.  The horrified sounds made me hotter and the melon thunk of my fist in his face fed that ragefire in my stomach that I couldn’t drown except to smother it in this current activity.

So I did it again. And again. And again. And again. Billy’s squeal of shock turned into a dismayed cry, then became a choked  moan that punctuated each wet smack. He begged mushily for me to stop and I did, for a few seconds; for a fraction of a heartbeat, and in an intake of breath, I actually considered ceasing, dropping my fist to my side while he sobbed my name and squeezed my ample tits with a gurgly chortle.  Another old but apt principle,  an object in motion stays in motion; my arm swung forward and my favourite red stiletto heel was stuck into his left eye and it did in fact slap in time with the gyrating and writhing Billy was doing.  It was an oddly tuneful song that I didn’t find offensive in the least.

I know what you are wondering and the answer is no. I felt nothing more than absurdly horny and that carnal hunger intensified every time I heard that thud. I should have felt something, in retrospect, other than the urge to get myself off on his bruised and battered lips. Considering who he was, it’s ridiculous that I even registered that desire.  Still he was good for something, at one time, in some way. At least at the start, the sex was unfuckingbelievable. Billy was heroin and I needed a fix. I wanted him constantly and he was more than capable of providing, then.

But after the newness rubbed off, his wandering eye came alive and was down the cleavage of every woman from late teen to fiftyish. If not there, then his virtual hand was down the gusset of each said female he made contact with.  Even with me stand there feeling the fool.  That son of a cunt practically panted when the neighbour’s nubile seventeen year old granddaughter came to visit and to cut the lawn.  He stood at the side window rubbing at his crotch and sweating while he watched her push the mower in her short shorts and bikini top. Then the punishments for crimes I hadn’t committed began again. Finally, through some kind of divine intervention or because I suddenly grew a set of balls and a backbone, I ran from him and emerged from Hell into freedom and into a new kind of fear. Battered, I had to rebuild the temple of Me from foundations. I survived and vowed that one punch. Once for all.

My hands hurt badly, and they throbbed like my starving sex for relief. His face is a pulpy patchwork of blood, eyes and teeth and shoe. He’s quite repulsive and my desire to fuck him while cutting his throat had mostly passed. Thankfully. One place Billy Sharp will never be is inside of me again.  In any way. The voices are louder now and I sense another male close but far enough out of reach of my one track mind and aggressive fists.  “You’ve proven your point.  End it or compose yourself.  They are watching,”  a familiar voice stated in a cold, understanding tone that contrasted sharply with the heat of fingers playing along my spine like a xylophone.  He was right and from my boot I pulled a small handled, sharpened spoon that had been a gift from an old friend.  I made it dance in front of his remaining frightened eye.

“You loved seeing me suffer didn’t you, fucktard? Guess what Billy? I’m sharing the favour. You’ll never have a woman again, unless she’s blind.”

Oh he knew then and bucked his bulk around under me hoping to knock me loose, or judging from his hardon, trying to ram his dick up inside of me.  He couldn’t even decide between sex and self-preservation. What an idiot. I have very strong thighs and he failed. I did however extract my pound of flesh, so to speak, and composed myself while bidding my colleagues adieu.  His eye I left floating in the glass of bourbon he had been sipping when I made good on my vow. Sadly for Billy, no amount of skin grafts can fix the ugly face that now matched his ugly soul.

That was five years ago today. I’ve been in hiding since the jury exonerated me and for good reason. His family resents me and this I comprehend their reasoning, sort of. I’d feel worse if I didn’t know the apple was rotten inside long before it fell from the tree. I  had a long hard laugh over my coffee this morning when I read that he that he had blown his head off in the night during rush hour traffic. What a fucking drama queen.

“My goodness people are crazy in those big cities!” Ginny, my waitress exclaimed as she refilled my coffee cup, “I feel sad for him though Eloisa. He must have been miserable.” She smiles into my eyes with her innocent glazed stare focusing on my own with a fire I hadn’t seen in a long time. She would make a sweet treat for my tounge later.  I feel my smile widen and I chortle with delight at her stunned and pleased expression as my hand slips under her uniform and strokes the cleft of her perfect ass,  “I hope so Ginny darlin. I sure do hope so.”

Ah. Sometimes you can get some satisfaction.

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©MelanieMcCurdie2016

The Burbs cover art by Palko Designs LLC
The Burbs cover art by Palko Designs LLC

Listen to The Burbs here

Available now
Available now

Bleu

It’s not enough.

It’s not enough to sit and watch someone else’s fingers Plié et pirouette
Across the ivory landscapes
I want to dance and soar, fly too

Never enough ear candy to slake
That hunger, the consuming need
To sit down and pour notes from my hands
They ache for the cool keys

Vampires craving blood couldn’t be more ravenous
When Gershwin cries his Rhapsody
My heart cries from the anguish
Of not being able to comply

I want to fly, again.

.

@MelanieMcCurdie2015

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Night Terrors – Ravage

 

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

 

Read Night Terrors by Keeper of the Crimson Quill

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.

Luis Royo
Luis Royo

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.

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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.

Le Reveil de Christian Coigny
Le Reveil de Christian Coigny

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.

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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.

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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….

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

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The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  Matt Farnsworth on Twitter Diane Foster on TwitterSlasherlicious Join today, Slay forever 

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A Sin-ful Tale

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.

The Reaper by Alexander Butler
The Reaper by Alexander Butler

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.

The Grim Reaper
The Grim Reaper

I hear Lust singing in the bathroom. Great acoustics in there. Should be, it’s huge! Our Sister Lust is 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.

Avarice is 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?

Matt Farnsworth
Matt Farnsworth

AHAHAHAHAHA Vanity and Gluttony are stalking Matt Farnsworth again. 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! .

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

image

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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

Raw Screenshot from The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Photo by Matt Farnsworth, Creator Releasing 2015  ©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC

The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  

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and now…the reactionary segment

Behind The Mask by Photo Flake
Behind The Mask by Photo Flake

Visit Photo Flake for more wicked art

To err is human
Forgive, Devine
So they say
Good thing I’m not human
Oh I tried forgiveness
Clung to it like some do that cross on the wall
Maybe it would save me
There is no saviour
Save yourself
That’s why you have a mind
Use it for a change
THINK
Novel concept isn’t it?
To use your head for something more
than storing video game ratings
and Twitter handles
Wake the fuck up and see

I'll cut you
I’ll cut you

Good Morning!

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and_i_don_t_drink_coffee_down_to_two_540  coffee-all-evils

coffee-to-go

heart_tea_cup

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

Visit  http://riversofgrue.com and Rivers of Grue on Facebook

The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  Matt Farnsworth on Twitter Diane Foster on TwitterSlasherlicious Join today, Slay forever 

Go Rate The Orphan Killer and Give It The Top Rating It Deserves

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I stepped in Positivity

Suggested Musical Accompaniment

Kyle Thompson Photography
Kyle Thompson Photography

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

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

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

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

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

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

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

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

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

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

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

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

 

Visit  http://riversofgrue.com and Rivers of Grue on Facebook

The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  Matt Farnsworth on Twitter Diane Foster on TwitterSlasherlicious Join today, Slay forever 

Go Rate The Orphan Killer and Give It The Top Rating It Deserves

Visit IMDB and introduce yourself to Iowa

 

Purchase C William Giles fantastic novel …of Tortured Faustian Slumbers

Of Tortured Faustian Slumbers Novel by C. William Giles

Merci

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

In my daylight hours I am known as Governess. The monster that lives inside me in her cage, quietly awaiting her time to run amok. She comes out less and less now, left apathetic, but still vicious the core. Should she gain her freedom, many would suffer a most heinous death, for she holds no perspective in her soul, all are prey, in varying degrees. She saves her best, holding her passion and rage, using her brutal nature to torture the one whose words offer the glut of blood she requires for survival. She craves sustenance, rattles in her cage, my thoughts stirring the hunger in her belly. She wishes to feed, her voice the soft sigh of a last breath….”Governess…Let me out”

No, I can’t let her out. She must remain tongueless and imprisoned, for the sake of all around me.. She elucidates her pleasure and her fury the same way, perpetrating her desire to spend her love with the deadly kiss of Scythe, a line in the flesh depicting one or the other. Should you find yourself at the point of the Beautiful Blade, you will surely know which end of the spectrum you have seduced.

Now, as the shadows invade the landscape that surround me, the light bleeding away from the wound night has inflicted, I stand at the window, deep in contemplation. The sky is alive with colour, garish as Mother Nature Desires, and we give thanks, as we watch the curtain of velvet descend on our small worlds. My Monster has fallen silent, giving my mind space to stretch and think, to dream up new ways to feed the One who first saw her lingering beneath my bonecover.

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If not for the One, I never would have found my bliss, my therapy. I would have chosen to remain voiceless. I should have remained voiceless, never drawn her from the Hole in which she resides and given her a weapon in which to destroy with, for all the joy it brings surely is not sanguine nor civilized. Yet I crave the slay, dream of it. Lightness is a matter of perspective. For me, the Darkness in the Light is my utopia, my perfection. The One saw this, recognised the seed in me and fed it encouragement, made it grow. Made it grow teeth and claws, gave it a voice, and a place to roar from. Pulled me from my shadows, where it was warm and safe, and handed me the key to the cage. It might as well have been keys to the kingdom.

Yesterday I was afforded another gift, in the words of my Sisters, who chose to show me and the world how much they care. It broke me, shattered the veneer that I applied to keep the blackness at bay, and my heart wept from my eyes. All these treasures placed before me have shown me a glimpse of what I can’t see in myself, suddenly, by the light of technology, all appeared different. A new way to see the world was opened to me, and no words, nothing I have, can repay that gift.

Today, as I sit with my fingers dancing on the keyboard, my thoughts are scattered. They fight for their lives in a castle, they are firmly in the clutches of brutality, they are sentimentally carving a poem in blood, and they are running amok with my loved ones, cooking up all manner of Hell. They rest with the ones that mean much to me. And I am happy. In my own world, where all are shadows, I am safe to let her loose, to reap, to devour, to hunt, to spill my heart onto the page.

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I thank you Keeper.  From my heart to yours. Now run….Prey….I’m coming to find you…. ❤

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

Visit  http://riversofgrue.com and

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Rivers of Grue

The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  Matt Farnsworth on Twitter Diane Foster on TwitterSlasherlicious Join today, Slay forever 

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Raven and Death Maiden Lessons – Payback

Read Death Maiden and Raven – Lessons 

Visit Maleficent Blood Damsel

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

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.

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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.

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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.

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“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.

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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.

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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.

Yell Saccini
Yell Saccini

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.

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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.

The Reaper by Alexander Butler
The Reaper by Alexander Butler

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.

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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.

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

 

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.

 Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

 

 

 

Death Maiden
Death Maiden

 

Visit Maleficent Blood Damsel

Raven
Raven

Visit  http://riversofgrue.com and

 Rivers of Grue on Facebook

Rivers of Grue

The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  Matt Farnsworth on Twitter Diane Foster on TwitterSlasherlicious Join today, Slay forever 

Go Rate The Orphan Killer and Give It The Top Rating It Deserves

Visit IMDB and introduce yourself to Iowa

Purchase C William Giles fantastic novel …of Tortured Faustian Slumbers

Of Tortured Faustian Slumbers Novel by C. William Giles

Maybe

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

it’s a knife in the heart
lean in a little closer
twist it a bit
pull up as you pull it out
fray the strings that hold it all together

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

a little more love
bleeds away with each stabbing
just a little more, hardly hurts at all
only an ache, a small biting
breath stealing
chest seizing
spark that burns as it flays

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

it doesn’t matter
a few more axeblows to the head
might make it all sink in
might force that switch to finally short out

Luis Royo
Luis Royo

maybe then I can say I don’t care
and actually mean it
maybe then being lost to memory
won’t hurt so much

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

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Rivers of Grue

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Small

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

The moon is sees all
Full and round as a virgin’s eye
Wide with wonder and innocence
Watching over the meek and strong
All tiny lights in the universe
It calls home

It is a window of the Gods
They who smile in wonder
The warmth of their gaze
The Summer Sun
The skies clouded over their Grief
The rain their Tears

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Frog song creaking in the night
An aria of Peace
A salve to my aching mind
Affording the quieter noise
To take precedence
So that I may hear
The beating of my heart
The pulse of my soul
The silent voices that sometimes
Get lost in the din

The whispers of my consciousness
The awareness in myself
Spreads it’s wings
Stretches after awakening
From a long sleep
To speak to me

These Dark Wings by Dausu
These Dark Wings by Dausu

For only in the night
Under the cloak of Darkness
Can I free the monster that lays
Bound and gagged
Forcibly speechless
It’s desire watered down
So that it does not roar
But whimper, softly

Insignificant
I am, we are
Meaningful specks
In the wave of space and time
Our lives barely a flutter
Of a butterfly’s wing

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Love, the breath of a million flowers
Sweet and pure
Fragile as spun glass
Stronger than steel
A figment of some
Astral child’s imaginings

The spell is broken
The delicate hush shattered
Pulling me back to reality
Reality is cold
A lost lonely place

Forgotten

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

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Rivers of Grue

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fidus Achates

Friendship Knot By Linda Phelps
Friendship Knot By Linda Phelps

You bring me to tears
The sorrow of a thousand years
wrapped up in a palmful of words
No one else can do that

Surely not as a rule
Do I allow my humanity to show
So openly and with no fear
or regret held in my heart

Unusual practice for one so dark
One who hides it away
Or tries to, lest my Demons roar
Rattle the doors of their prison
Desperate to escape
They do roar, to my own ears

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Doors are open wider
Freedom to speak
With no concern of reprisal
Is a gift you know not you give
Not wrapped in a bow, or pretty paper
No window dressing to enhance its allure
Simple and simply complicated
Ebb and flow
The give and take is easy, when it’s allowed to be

Not all can comprehend, understand
The complex nature of kindred souls
It is a connection that fails description
A mind to mind bond
Synapses that fire on the same wavelength
Fuses on the same board
One in the same
Yin and Yang, of a type

Point is that the defenses are down
The walls are crumbling
Trusting that by exposing the softer side,
The Human side
Won’t be cleaved to pieces

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

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Rivers of Grue

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Searching

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Twist

Turn

Feel the burn

Fingers aching to dance

Set to play

Wasting daylight

Just to say

Nothing

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Sun Rises

Sun Sets

Brilliant colours

Singe the eyes

No words to sing

Feel everything

All too big to articulate

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Leave me to sigh

Slumber draws nigh

Showing my Path

With a shudder

Nearly deserted

I am gently diverted

Away from all that I know

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Left to stand

Alone in the deep

Searching for that

Twinkling jewel

A word or a flower

Give me back my power

The desire flares within

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

The urge to fly

Soar in the sky

Ride the thermals

And wonder

If humans had wings

Would we not be Kings

Rulers of all we long for

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Let it be so

Inspiration found

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

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Rivers of Grue

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Cerebration

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

I won’t ask for your hand
It’s not how I’m made
To ask for anything
Even as I hold the Reliquary
I ask not for even your hand

A turn of the clocks arms
an eternity they chase each other
Never to be in the other’s embrace
To request such
rarely crosses my lips
for it falls often on deaf ears

A game of facades to hide
The aching and constant
self degradation
Lessons learned most harshly
Scoff not, dear one
For you are the same as I
The common bond wider

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Survival is not a choice
It’s an imperative
Ingrained, when I’d rather lie down
in the Clearing and wait for
The Reaper or A Gunslinger
To end my days
To take the cup from my lips
Carry me home, whether to
Greener pastures full of light
Or the Beautiful Darkness
Full of Fire, Full of Night

The Reaper comes not
Her Scythe screams not a note
Gunslingers exist no more
Only the ghost of a memory
to my regret

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

This day I open my eyes yet again
Curse the light, yearn for the
Cimmerian Shadows
They that cover and hide
A small riddle their only requirement
Should I answer true
My desire granted,
Sweet indentured servitude
to Collector of Souls
Should I not
The light shall envelope and embrace
it’s promise the exquisite pain
of final reward

Life goes on. And so shall I.

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

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Rivers of Grue

 

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He Who Sits

Down of the Crow
Down of the Crow

 I am a crow

Ruffling my dusty, rusty
Blackest feathers
Standing apart
Awaiting my turn
To retrieve small bits
Of found treasures
Shiny, gleaned treasures
That I use to line my
Happy place
My trove of musings

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

A room of shadows
Protected by my Muse
He who sits, silent
In the corner, observing
Dressed in cobwebs
A jacket of disused thoughts
A book yet unwritten
A love yet discovered
A passion unfulfilled

Drifting closer only to
Breath inspiration
Into my ears
Each time I set my
Pen to paper
Fingertips to a keyboard
Draw blood to the knife’s edge
I slay for purpose
For my pleasure
To feed my delight
And please myself

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

He feeds my desire
This incubus sublime
Infusing the iniquitous sweetness
Into my veins,
Teasing my flesh
Pulling me closer
While pushing away
His kiss full of teeth
That gnash at my soul
Requiring blood in payment
For his attentions
A price I willingly pay
Again and again
Like a disaffected monster
Drawn back to the place
Of her transgressions

I will pay the penalty
With terror and adulation
Open my chest and tear open
The cavity where my darkness hangs
On its stand,
In its reliquary, mists of midnight vapour
Ripple and writhe, twisting in wanton lust
Begging for freedom
It’s euphoniously lugubrious tones
Joyful noise to my heart
Blackened though it appears
Tarnished and unable to love

first_governess_rives_of_grue

My Muse, he teaches me
From the pockets of Darkness
Disguised as Light
He takes my hand
Leading me on my Path
His voice full of broken glass
And cigarette singed whiskey
Honeyed notes of His enraptured song
Plunking like bloodied raindrops
Ripples of love and regret
Low words urging me to show
That I can love, and do
As always, in my way
All or nothing
Each time the axe falls
The blade pierces
Is an I love you

I muse because He wills it so
Calls me crow
And sets my feet in the Path again
Straightening His finger
To stir the cranial leavings
Stoking the flames
Enraged and engorged
Retreating again to his place
As my words begin to flow

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death

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Rivers of Grue

 

The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now  Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  Matt Farnsworth on Twitter Diane Foster on Twitter Slasherlicious Join today, Stay forever 

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Musings

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

Love is such a mundane word

You might was well say

The sky is dark
And leave out the lush velvet
Sparking with diamonds
Their sparkle the reflection
From your eyes

 

How could I say Love
Should it fall from my lips?

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

As the gentle waters flow

Constant and true

As the song of the whippoorwill

Trills in the silence

As night falls and day fades

Infinite as the dusk

As the wolf howls it’s mournful serenade

Crying its heart to the moon

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

As blood on the blade

How it sparkles delight

As a warm breath of Spring

Melts the chill of Winters cloak

The fire in the soul

After an eternity of ice

The envelope of flesh

To soothe the tears

first_governess_rivers_of_grue

The mind that knows yours, each dark and dusty corner

And still chooses to reside there

Perhaps not so mundane
For one word
Can encompass it all

Death Maiden

Kiss of Death
Kiss of Death

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Rivers of Grue

 

The Orphan Killer Steelbook Blu-Ray is available now  Diane Foster on Facebook Matt Farnsworth on Facebook The Orphan Killer  The Orphan Killer on YouTube The Orphan Killer on Twitter  Matt Farnsworth on Twitter Diane Foster on Twitter Slasherlicious Join today, Stay forever 

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Introducing The Seven Deadly Sinners

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.

Death Maiden

The Seven Deadly Sinners
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.

Crimson Duchess – Envy

 

dark_governess_rivers_of_grue

Introducing Vanity

dark_governess_rivers_of_grue

I AM AVARICE

dark_governess_rivers_of_grue

 Wrath

dark_governess_rivers_of_grue

Gluttony

dark_governess_rivers_of_grue

I Am Sloth

dark_governess_rivers_of_grue

Envy Is My Name

dark_governess_rivers_of_grue

I Am Lust