6.

I wonder if he dreams of me.

Chapped lips on supple skin as he screams my name, possessing me.

I wonder if he dreams of me.

His hand in mine as we make our way through the crowds.

I wonder if he dreams of me

His head on my shoulder as we look to the sea.

I wonder if his heart races at the thought of my lips on his, just as we walk away. if he ever has looked at me like a lion looks at a carcass, fully knowing that I’d satiate his hunger and thirst for what he longs for.

His hands find mine like the ivy finds walls, slow, gentle curls that can demolish the walls if they so will it. His arms creep around my waist and I’ve never felt safer or more isolated from the world than at this moment, where I am warm and alive.

His being is gentle, his demeanor rough from the hurt he has gathered in his heart. And he looks to me, with broken dreams littering his eyes as I lull him to sleep. I’d sing forever if it meant I could see him smile.

I wonder if chills run across his skin when the thought of me crosses his mind. If he fantasizes me bare and if he loses himself in the memory of it.

Barely do I think of it, but does he caress his skin in places where I touched him, his thighs and hips littered with remnants of my passion?

And I know that its selfish, but what am I to do. With him around the world feels right, and although I know that this may never be the reality, still

I wonder if he dreams of me.

4.

I want someone I can lie with as I slip into sleep with his hand in mine. I want someone I can make flower crowns for. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid of the blood on my hands when I butcher a chicken and smile at him. I’d cook for him and he’d stroke my hair and hold my waist as we sway to a slow, deadbeat song.

I want to have a cottage, where I grow an orchard of exotic trees and I want to stay under their shade with him in my lap and our pets lazing around. He’d bite into an apple as I run my fingers through his hair and he’d snuggle into me, sweet essence of apples and citrus surrounding us, in the cold summer breeze.

I want us to be on the run from society, each moment, more exciting than the next. He’d offer me a skull and I’d hold his face between my palms and kiss him so the eternities know that he is mine. I’d build him a throne from the bones of his enemies and paint it with my blood so he may know how precious he is to me.

I want to hunt for him. To run across the river and catch him in my arms as we fall and lose each other between ourselves under the waters until we’re forced above due to breathlessness. I want to kiss him then, raw and passionate as it sounds.

I want to lay with him by a small fire, hands just touching, drawing patterns on his skin, just revering the fact that a boy like him is mine. We’d be swaddled in blankets and he’d look at me and I would touch his lips, hungry like a nomad in the Sahara. He’d want me too, an oasis waiting to be consumed.

Sirens

Sea.

The entirety of it was a ravenous ghost as I breathe it in.

I hear them praise me from atop their masts, captains steering the boats, changing courses to find my melody. But it wasn’t always like this. I was no one, a simple farm girl on a nobleman’s land, who met a man.

A man, with hair salted by the breeze of the seas who came to our harbor one day. My folly was that I fell for his enchanting words. His tongue that worked magic through the night and his wicked, sinful smile that brightened every fair maiden’s day.

But all is never as it seems. Deep in the night, with his head on my thighs, he had asked me to run away. The thrill of it, the idea of leaving this place behind added to my excitement as I hastily agreed. That mistake made me what I am now.

Two nights passed with me on his vessel, as he ravaged me under blue skies and dark nights alike. It was heaven and hell wrapped in one. Each stroke came with agony. And with it came waves of pleasure, that I couldn’t deny. His hands, with sinew wrapped like ropes, held me fast and sturdy, even when the sea rocked us. His eyes looked into mine as he left me, just to caress me again, mellow like a flower blooming under the scalding summer heat.

And on the third day, The shame of it all came crashing as he threw me on the deck, his crew mocking me as he tore into me. I hadn’t noticed, too caught up in the pleasure, that he was but another ravager, a pirate that had taken from me what could never be returned.

And when he was through with me, they tied a barrel to my belly. He caressed me. One last time. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but malice. Maybe this was my fate, I think to myself as he pushed me overboard.

Sea, It was a ravenous ghost, but it forgave me. And as I fell to its depths and let it enter me, I felt it change my soul. It wasn’t cold anymore. The ropes that bound me to the wood, slipped off me. My form was lithe, my skin bare. The sea birthed me, shallow wounds of men would harm me no more. My feet were slick, lighter in the water, my breath, no longer the sweet mellow sound that i fell asleep to before.

And with the sound of the sea, i sing today, to the murderer who bought me a life of vengeance. He has to pay the price, so he comes, closer to the rocks on which i lay. The sea is hungry, and i shall feed it with the blood of the sailors.

Today, i sing the song of murder, and he shall drown, singing it back to me.

Time and again.

The rays from the sun cast a heavy glow across my room, making the chandelier shimmer. The gleam from the mirrors on the ceiling kissed my eyes as i woke up from my sleep. Much to my chagrin, the floor was unkempt, slick with dragon wax, giving it an unnatural glow. I have always hated the ways of the Blue-bloods but since one of them is to be my bride, i shall have to get used to this. The doors clanged shut as an Oracion made his way to me. 

He came to me, his smile revealing hundreds of sharp teeth. His scaly skin glinted under the lights of the chandelier and his robes, clung to him like a second skin of liquid silk. “What day?” He asked, his talons now holding my wrist in a vice like grip, freezing every nerve of mine with fear. “What day!?” He demanded, his shriek loud enough to make the mirrors tremor in their frames. “I don’t remember” i replied, voice shaky from the encounter. “Good.” He approved my honesty and presented me with a vial of a thick black muck. I took it, knowing fully of the evil that the crystal vial held. 
The morning had now taken me by surprise. Had i relived this? the periphery of mine, still couldn’t focus, so there was no other way to know of this. Dressed in my best, i descend the ivory staircase that was now speckled with red. Something was wrong here, but i couldn’t put my finger on it. It was true that the Blue-bloods were feared for what they did to people who defied them, and sprinkling their victims blood was something that could be expected of the cruel royals.I stood at the base of the stairs, admiring the beauty of the architecture of their goldsmiths. The doors to the Great hall stood strong, the gold dragons watching over the people who dared enter the royal household. 

The view inside the hall was that of a slaughter house now. Nothing could have prepared me for the gruesome sight that greeted my eyes. I stared in horror as i witnessed the Wicca tear apart the best of the Blue-blood warriors into pieces. Their nails, sharp as any Red-moon sword, dug into the warrior as he screamed, his face contorted in horror. Smoke bellowed from every wound the Wicca inflicted, their poison, eating away at the royal flesh they despised. The horror had me rooted to the place where i stood as one of them spotted me. He bound toward me, the guttural roar tearing through the screams. 

Before i could turn, i felt his breath on me, his tongue licking a trail across my neck. “Red-moon….” The words rolled off his lips and before i could speak, i felt his nails rip through sinew and muscle. My breath hitched, as i was thrown across the hall. The room was now a blur of reds, blood coating almost all surfaces. I felt my voice break as another scream ripped through me. The black contents of the vial spewed and mixed with my blood. I held onto the edge of my consciousness, barely alive. The edges of my vision, now confirmed that i had indeed relived this horror over and over again…almost seven thousand times …..and now, as i slowly slipped into my sleep, i saw the face of an oracion, smirking at me as he asked a final question. “Would you like to try again?” And against all my prayers to the gods to allow me a peaceful death, i felt myself nod.

Ashes

Have you ever wondered what it is like to burn alive?
To turn to dust and ash, surrounded by the warm lapels of hell flame lapping at your skin. To feel them eat away at what was once your own flesh?

You haven’t….

I have.

If you were a woman….You would be tried for it, you see. And among the tens buried and the hundreds drowned, i was among the one you burned. Tied to a stake, taken from sleep, my children screaming my name as you dragged me by my hair, blessing my body with the water of your false god.

The god that killed my sisters, my daughters, and mothers.

A god, that abandoned families.

You came with Holy fire. Pain, you said, that would absolve me of my errant ways. All i could see was the hunger in your eyes , your willingness to cut me from the chains that bound me to the earth. And on the pyre that held her head high as the sky, you mounted me, voices mocking my ways.

It began then, a slow murmur through the wood, a crackle that brought memories of a warm room during Christmas, coming alive at my feet. The agony, in chorus with the sweet, dampening symphony of my own screams started as the fire ate away at the wood and with it, my flesh. My eyes tried in vain to release me of the pain, so i could watch the horror on your faces, you who brought my demise.

I wish you no ill will, for the fire had consumed me. In halves and quarters, in blood that failed to quench its thirst and flesh that only fed its hunger. It holds me close, tender arms slithering their finger between my ribs, making my heart their home. Home, where the aroma of meat and the stench of charred bones is one.

I screamed, begged for my life like a wanton whore on the streets of Bethlehem. If the devil offers respite so be it, i would be his.

But you got to me first, didn’t you?

The Final Entry

If you find this, understand that the mistakes we did were easily avoidable. Please, i beg you. If you’re reading this, we haven’t survived. But you still can.

MAY.14

Cold was the first thing that i felt. Not the cold from soft snowfall. It was rather the cold from the meat freezer that always seems to scream your name. The cold, that climbs up your spine when you watch a horror movie. The cold, that is out to get you.

I woke up, sweating and pulled the curtains aside hoping it was just a dream and that the cold was just a part of it. What greeted my eyes was not the warm sun of the beach. It was the sheets of ice that had now taken over the biggest of the oceans, and the wind that froze everything in its way. The warnings were now anything but faded voices in the distance. The resort that was once lively was now so silent that i could hear the liquid in the boiler room freeze over, The crackling symphony of god’s wrath on this barren land. 

What was days seemed like ages ago when the first warning came. A strike. That’s all it took. War was declared and that world drowned in its own chaos. The fragile web of connections that was spun, avoiding all the things that could trigger us, now lay in shatters. Bullets flying, blood spilled, Men dying in agony for pieces of land that were never our own to begin with. And then, came the command, a command to let loose, to fall from what we considered humanity.

The bomb was just a beginning. The war was happening thousands of miles away wasn’t it? But we couldn’t have been more wrong. The ash rose, miles of forests, animals and humans, dead in minutes. And they retaliated, with grief strengthening their resolve and clouding their minds. their mind knew nothing but vengeance as they set off the most dreadful invention of humanity. The gods looked down upon the destruction, the worsening apocalypse that man had brought unto himself.

And then like a cold breeze in warm summers, the ice from the arctic was let loose. 

First the cold was bearable. We fought, not minding the chattering teeth and the freezing bones. Temperatures dropped further, and still we fought, with dying men and ice cold metal. When the fire wouldn’t light anymore, we resorted to the weapons of lore, poisons that killed on contact. The cold only got worse, freezing the bodies of those who fell. The war finally halted, with men agreeing to continue once the cold passed, but little did they know that it was here to stay.

Icicles fell from the sky, the spears of goddesses who was undoubtedly raging for her lambs. With it came the winds, carrying the wails of a scornful god who wanted nothing but peace. And then came the darkness, the shroud of death himself, who had come to consume us all. 

The boiler has long frozen over, my child, it isn’t long before all the living are but marble statues, frozen in an eternity of ice. i believe it is my time to go on as well.

With teeth chattering, legs dead and hair all but stuck to my skin, i bid you farewell.

The Burning Flower

The plaster from the walls chipped away as the train rumbled across the tracks. The smell of death, sickeningly sweet, hovered around me like a cloud. It made me wretch, but it acknowledged that I was alive. weak, none the less, but alive. I was bound to this place, ropes kissing my ankles softly as my blood flowed free. It was a small punishment, though. Much less painful than all the horrid things he did to me. The wind howled and the hair on my skin reacted to the unexpected cold that was suddenly a part of my cruel little world. I screamed, as his whip snapped across the sensitive skin on my stomach. a bright smile accompanied another snap, this time, across the thighs. I hissed as a few wet drops hit my face. He caressed the exposed flesh of my thighs, no doubt admiring the work of art he had now created.  “Run, my love..” he said, his voice washing over my body like a wave of needles. He smiled as I squirmed through the bonds of rope, hopelessly trying to escape. He picked a vase, and I flinched. But the blow never came, instead, I heard the click of his lighter, and when I opened my eyes, he placed the most mesmerizing thing I had ever seen in front of me.

The flame, bright and happy, burned with fervor, oblivious to the pain in my feet. Blood trickled down my skin, onto the sensitive flesh of my thighs, soaking the threadbare sheets of linen that were strewn across my body. the warm glow of the burning rose was quickly fading. I was overtaken by the need to hold it in my hands. Would it burn with color, bright and full of life? I would never know. He had taken a fancy to my condition….laughed as the colors drained from my eyes. All I could now see was the white flames caressing the soft petals of the dark-colored rose. Each petal held a promise, a dream that would soon turn to dust. The beauty of death, even by the hands of the demon, held me in a trance.  Fire dripped from the vase as the petals fell free, each on its own violation, with abandon, as pain coursed my body and I lost myself to the abyss.

Hollow…

We never expected their arrival. Hundreds of them, walking on their toes, their claws raking the ground beneath them, their jaws wide open. Their prey fled in fear, eyes filled with dread as they watched the Levie devour everything dear to them. The air stank of rancid fear and putrid blood, the claws showed no mercy to women or child. We were all the same to them. 

Their eyes, hollow pits of fear looked through the walls, hunting every human that was deemed alive. Their claws knew no mercy, teeth that showed no resistance, as they tore through bone and sinew alike. Hunched like a crone, the creatures climbed the walls, dug through passages and peered through the walls, instilling dread in the very soul we hold so dear.
I was the last one to hear them. The people lay in heaps of curdled blood and torn limbs. The walls, once a bright blue, were now coated in blood. Shards of glass lay on the roads, glistening in the light from the broken windows. The glow from the light cast a morbidly serene curtain over the town, and time had just stilled. Everything was just silent. Blood dripped from the curtains, made no sound as it fell to the floor. The gurgles of the dying men, faded in the distance, leaving behind a void that nothing could hope to fill. The birds never sang, the wind stilled, and the calm cascaded onto me, a curtain of inexplicable horror as the hollows of his eyes looked into mine, a lost soul on the verge of extinction.  

That is the last thing I remember before I was what I am now. A shell of a monster, a part of a heinous creation, an abomination. His eyes, something that is always on the back of my mind as I scourge this land for anything to kill, mindlessly hunting for the blood of my brothers. The trees, they fall silent now, when I pass through them. The earth holds its breath and the wind cries my name every night. The stench grows stronger, it rakes across my skin like blades as I hunt it. The Levie, Scourge of the End, Mindless beasts, or so I thought. We were the tyrants now, the harbingers of an end that could never come.

The earth has stopped breathing now.  We have walked, for miles and miles, tired and hungry. 

I know now what hell is.

 And it is coming for you next.

Writings subject to Copyright ©