Brute, Entity, Animalistic, Savage, Troglodyte
Supporting Audio Candy:
Slayer God Send Death
verb – make (a child) an orphan
Nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors. While even the holiest of grounds can appear sacred from the outside; rest your ear against the bricks and mortar and you will likely hear whispers of unspeakable acts against humanity. Fact is no fiction and, for longer than we realize, many catholic priests have been parishioners of sickness as opposed to the community pillars they pose as. These bastards prey on the frail young minds in their care, callously stripping away the last remaining threads of innocence from already tortured infants, and leaving them numb inside just to please their own pent-up sexual yearnings.
One such child was Marcus Miller. Plucked from his natural environment at a pivotal time in his development; he was thrusted into a world of torment and unholy indignity. God only knows what truly went on behind those large oak doors but, if said deity is aware, then he turned a blind eye in the case of this particular youngster. He was spoiled goods after these injustices were forced upon him. You may place an apple in a decorative bowl but, if it is already rotten, it will never flourish regardless of how much natural light and shade it receives.
Marcus wasn’t empowered to ripen and, instead, was left battered and bruised, both on his outer casing and deep down in his pulpy core. This particular apple fell far from the tree and bled internally from conception but it was a steady decomposition as his soul perished whilst, on the outside, he appeared like any other boy his age. The sacrilegious clergymen who reached in to tear out his beating heart and feast upon his essence found not a solitary droplet of essence. Just blackness. Over the course of his adolescence Miller was gestating internally, his tenebrous soul feeding each of his ventricles with pulsating evil and distributing it to every fiber and nerve ending. No prom deflowering, no first kiss, or love. Just a vortex of swirling vitriol which consumed his every wanton desire and cast it under shadow.
So although he endured such monstrous defilement he received a stellar education right? Yes actually but his education was far from orthodox. Such fiery purpose allows for great clarity of learning and Marcus cherry picked from his surroundings, blacking out any vulgar teachings and replacing them with his own grimy white noise. There was nothing for him to be schooled on within this septic piss-tank. They were just cranking his gruesome gears each day and releasing him into society prepped for carnage. He dressed snappily on his release, after all, first impressions count. There was a desire to be taken seriously, turn heads before ripping them out from their very windpipes, and running his gravel-like tongue along the spurting stump. Besides, Marcus was nothing if not eloquent in his prose so he simply dressed accordingly. Underneath that smart attire was an uncleansed spirit, coal-like smog emanating from his every pore and only proceeding to intensify his blood lust further.
He was hell-bent on tracking down his sibling to discuss events leading up to his desecration. Had she plainly copped out by turning her back on her own bloodline? She may have conveniently forgotten her sibling but there was something inside her delicious pelt which rivaled her brother for darkness. That gene, that contorted murky gene. She unwittingly took ownership of it the moment her umbilical was severed and, instead of breathing oxygen for the first time, she was left asphyxiated by it. Over her own development she shunted it back to the most cavernous recesses of her mind and attempted to ignore its presence. A cat can’t run from its own tail now can it? Even a delectable kitten like Audrey Miller. One look from this salacious siren could collapse a man’s lungs in a heartbeat.
The most beautiful woman in existence then? To these peepers yes, she is the precise reason why men lay with their backs to their wives in bed fantasizing illicitly and, from a carefully concealed vantage, I have watched her petals unfurl ever so elegantly. Within each stipule are a thousand razor-sharp machetes all forming a kaleidoscopic swirl of anguish for anyone attempting to discern her fragrant aroma. Audrey didn’t blossom like the other cygnets her age; her menstruation was gradual and, her bleed, more conclusive than a few perishing oviums creating deep red speckles on her cotton briefs once a month.
Indeed, her life has been one long cycle and currently she is at the height of her flow. Internal bleeding is a potent threat but, for Audrey Miller, once her life-force had been extinguished she simply carried on being. They say you’re never closer to being alive than when teetering above the jaws of death and there is truth in such theory. She was placed in custody just like Marcus and bound with harsh barbed bracelets; lacerating and biting at her flesh like ravenous serrated serpents. Her pain…was real. Those cries…authentic. Every ounce of her was alight with searing disdain and she fucking loved it. The reason why? That beast is in her too. When her beloved brother dangled her from those crude alloy cuffs he entered her and fucked her darkness straight out. Her garments remained in place, no actual physical transaction or incestuous endeavor was facilitated. Their union needed not to be shackled by bodily yearnings but he still impregnated her on that night with his yearning malice…topped her up so to speak.
Let me in little pig or I’ll huff and I’ll puff
you can scream all you want but it won’t be enough
deaf ears all around not a peep or a sound
each cry hits its wall and then falls to the ground
Let me out older brother unleash this desire
blacken my darkness and stoke up my fire
enter my mind and let’s start this communion
I’m already prepared to commence our dark union
Take my hand Baby Sister I’m inside, courting madness
lick your pain, fuck your sorrow, embrace all that sadness
drink it in, guzzle, drool, burst your stool, shit it out
I can see your blind faith is becoming devout
Take my youth, most uncouth, slide in deeper my keeper
You’re inside thrusting wildly, never mildly, inked reaper
Take your sin, fuck it in, I receive each thrust gladly
Truly and deeply but most of all madly
Getting close, feel it surging, death emerging through my shaft
Feel you cumming, soaking through me, now my dye has been cast
Eyes don’t lie and yours implore this, your cunt whores this sweet distress
Will release now, time to feast now, let the cruel blood manifest
Await one moment while Audrey slides those sodden panties back up her slender legs, which bleed delicious honey trickles of lost innocence and perished desire. As they reach her curvaceous hips and nestle once more into the subtle crease of her sopping shaven hub, her transmogrification is complete. And Marcus? The monster, still spitting noxious nectar, is back within its putrid paddock but his metallic orbs still throb with darkest predilection, fusing the anguish delectably. I don’t know what the future shall hold but I do know this: we have all witnessed their union first hand. Reunited by fate, they are now bound by blood and so are we.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
First Knight of TOK
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2013 (Revised Edition 2015)