Have you ever seen the dark in its purest form? It floats through you,
your
soul, your inner most thoughts and
comes out smiling. It is us, yet we are not it. I am of this dark. Few
are,
however, one can become one with this
presence. It lives, it loves, but it does not die. For there cannot be
light
without dark. Yet, there can be dark
without light. Think about that, ponder my questions. Now what godly
light
do you strive for? What holy demands
do you have? Look, see what is waiting above you.
I laugh, thinking of all those out there who fear the common man with all his madness. We are all mad you see, it is potential. Insanity presents itself most in those with strong minds but weaker willpower. This is because they are unable to control this awesome beast. This demon that hangs on the inner-most reaches of our soul. I see in my lunatic ravings... a wasteland, a desolate desert. Empty, a tree sits next to a small pond an oasis. In the tree hangs the body of a man, his flesh rots from his yellowed bones. The carrion animals dare not feast on this accursed man. His eyes catch me in endless torment. I smile filling my mind with visions of death and the tormented look the souls of all the dying. Their look of sheer terror as I reaved their souls. The sheer pleasure gave me the strength to continue for days on end, watching them suffer. I look now to the pond, a slimy green film covers the surface. Not moss, but the flesh of those who looked deep into the eyes of the leviathan and were swallowed. A noise, I turn one woman walks towards me. I cock my head to one side. Suddenly she falls to her knees "god help us, god help us all" she bows her head. When it rises again, she finds herself chained to a table, cold, metallic, yet it reflects no light. Her gaze turns towards me. I smile, "well child, it seems that you didn't live to your gods expectations..." I pick up a knife, a scalpel, I walk over and make an incision running from throat to crotch. She screams in torment. "Quite dear you'll only spoil your fragile lungs." Then working methodically I pull her flesh from either side spreading it open with multiple flesh hooks. She feels the pain but the intensity of it has a dulling effect. Then with a few quick slashes, the entirety of her internal organs pour forth and onto the floor. She is then taken into my the main hall of my Manse and hoisted into the air. Suspended by the flesh hooks that hold her chest open, she hangs there still, my own personal light fixture. Her defiled soul pours out truly black light. To this day I find it satisfying to sit in my hall and converse with my creation. However, the only word she speaks is "Betrayed" and this she repeats without end. I laugh as I hear her cries in the night. That single word has never been spoken with such beauty as with my dear Lavella. Alas I will miss her when her soul is ripe for destruction. Such a pity she couldn't become more...