The Daughters of Death

For days and days, I had searched in this beauteous grove of mysteries. Right before a wisp or a spectre of light twinkled before my very eyes. A silhouette of a fine woman in her prime, had taken shape and bid me forth. Her eyes indeed possessed the sheen of Hera’s elegance. She moved toward me, gracefully leaping and forming an arc with her hands and teasing me with her charm. Perhaps, I thought, she is pale as a ghost, oh wait?! She is not pale as a luminous apparition… I see now, her eyes change color and slowly static envelopes my eyes. As she, changes colors, ah I wonder, is she human? Oh yes she must be… Yes. Enticing, I want to lunge toward her and play tag as if we were children. I see that her steps lead me toward the Pond of Tears of where the light emanates from the inner sanctum. My mind is full, no not full. Awed by such wonders such as her, no matter what I want, she appears. Yes… NO….. Yes…. Her eyes glimmer once more, her pale skin and arousing expression. The mere fact of her silk-like hair causes my hands to caress imaginatively. Dazzled, for I have no breath of what I could describe of what could happen next. Through this pond, I see the reflections of others, shadows pass by, the memory of the saints still echo. Then…. I felt a despicable jolt, it could be shrugged off.

GASP

I stagger back and realize that there is something lurking behind the shadows. My eyes blur, losing focus of her majestic majesty. Wisps, black wisps are faintly surrounding me… AHHH! I could have sworn I saw another silhouette of an enticing women, her vernacular is unknown to me. Enchanting and exotic, the body of such a seductress, my soul had a tremor. As gray as the wizards of yore yet as young as an ample breasted woman, I…. I…. What?! No! I snap my head back and instantly look for the saintly beauty of which caught my eyes first. She is ahead, for I see she has left a trail of white ghastly lilies. Nonetheless, I traverse this path and then again, a shadow of darkness has been cast. Blinded, I could not move on for what seemed an eon in the universe. There she was again, this time agitated with my slowness. I came forth and hastened toward her and wanted to see the beauteous face of a queen. Then, something crept toward me again. Panting and sweating, I felt nervous, a shiver had taken my soul away. I started quivering, and mumbling words in an unknown tongue. A figure behind me, two others in the front of me and a symbol of Baphomet, I stood still as a statue as pale as marble. The haints and memories of the saints were of the dark bishops. The blood and the sigils…. Are… Are

RUSTLE

Heh, a squirrel had saved me from this clutter of melancholy… Mockery. I traversed further into the forest, there were the tombs of the saints and bishops. They were lined up with each other, standing in a single row. The first woman I had saw arrived, her lips as soft as a rose. Her lips supple with the redness of vigour enticed me to come forward, then, I heard caustic droning, behind the tombs of the saints and bishops, lay that other entity. The one who had gray hair yet was as young and ample. That maid had come; the droning became more robust for my ears. The darkness shrouded my vision and the tears and sorrow of others came. The sigil once more, brazened into my mind screaming the names of the lost ones. The earth vibrated and the moon rose, the graves of the soldiers came forward. Blood, spilled on the roots, crushed skulls and the men howl, for the unspoken horrors lay within, my eyes burned. The hacking coughs…. The spirits of these women lunged forward. My soul once more was lost in Satan’s grasp. I writhed and attempted to fight with a mental will. Yet, the images of dried bodies, burnt bodies, and the maimed saints and bishops, echoed in my mind. The shadows came again, encroaching upon my sanity. I trembled; my heart moved and formed a chasm. The memory of saints became debased, and tinged with decaying stench of warfare. The aftermath, the emotions of misery, wrath, and vengeance rained upon my naive mind. I cried and wondered why I was chosen, for they had echoed. The ravaged souls of the saints and bishops came toward me.

“Spawn of the Demon, you shall meet your reckoning,” the first saint uttered.

“You have traces of blood from this demon, you are a descendant of Belial,”

“Procreated after the carnage of our people,” a bishop glared.

“Belial and his wife had suckled on blood of our forsaken kin, who fought with audacity and had inflicted undue suffering onto us,” The woman with grey hair added on.

My blood boiled, for I could feel wrath sweeping through me. Blinded by their unholy words, something had awoken in me. The pond began to boil and steam rose, lava rose through Belial’s hand. I… I.. could hear voice whispering I could feel his shadow upon me, for his wraith entered my blood. Enacting the ritual, the blood on the moss ignited, the suffering souls rose moaning and violently protesting against my possession. This wreaked havoc upon what I wanted, I merely want to touch these women and sing to their hearts…

Yet, they said I deserve to suffer. Pernicious wrath….. Unforgivable heathens! With my teeth gritted, I conjured….. A horde of craven demons?! The pale saints uttered their prayers and the decomposing bishops chanted their hymns. They burned under the holy light and then the ladies lunged forward. Gracious beauties…. What?! Another shadow was conjured by one of the saints. The memories of these beauteous women were ripe with Death itself. The reaper appeared right before my eyes, visible and invisible at the same time. The sisters lunged once more, eviscerating me in an instant. There were shades of red, Belial faded in hindsight, I quivered and shivered. My soul became hollow and I lay adrift in that pond…

Letting the memories of saint’s replay the terror of my forefather’s doing…. Baphomet’s insignia, the saint’s cross upside down and soaked in the blood of my kin…. Corpses strewn.... The sisters standing in the pitch black standing to the sides…. Grinning at my own demise …. Their beauteous eyes turned to the pitch black itself…. Darkness forevermore and the cackles and hymns of dead saints and bishops…