Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-3524611-20160309074826

*This already exists on the Creepypasta wiki... But, just in case, it'd be nice if this could be reviewed. I know... I know, it might not be the best, hey it's worth a shot right?

The Daughters of Death



For days and days, I searched in  this beauteous grove of mysteries for a moment of solace. However,  a wisp or a spectre of light appeared appeared in front of me. 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 towards 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 pale as a luminous apparition... I see now, her eyes change color. Slowly static envelopes my eyes. As she, changes colors, I wonder, is she human? ''Oh yes she must be... Yes..... Enticing... ''I wanted 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... I am  awed by such wonders such as her, no matter what I want to do, she appears. ''Yes... ''NO..... Yes....Her eyes glimmer once more, her pale skin and arousing expression stunned me. The mere thought of her silk-like hair caused my hands to caress imaginatively. Dazzled,  I could not describe what happened next... Through this pond, I see the reflections of others and shadows pass by. I realized that the memory of the saints still echoed. Then.... I felt a despicable jolt but decided to shrug it off.

GASP

I staggered back and realized that there was something lurking behind the shadows. My eyes blurred, losing focus of her majestic majesty. Wisps, black wisps faintly surroundied me... AHHH! I could have sworn I saw another silhouette of another enticing women,. She spoke a 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 snapped back to realiity and instantly looked for that first woman. Soon, I realized that she was ahead, for I saw that she had left a trail of white ghastly lilies. Nonetheless, I traversed this path and then I encountered a shadow of darkness. Blinded, I could not move on for what seemed to be an eon. There she was again, agitated with my slow gait and I hastened toward her. Then, something crept toward me again. Panting and sweating, I felt nervous, a chill went down my spine. I started quivering and mumbled words in an unknown tongue. There was a figure behind me and two more in the front as well as 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 wretched enemies of my past... 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.... The enemies of my wretched past... 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. This enticed me to come forward and then I heard caustic droning. It came from behind the tombs. I turned around and saw the young maid with gray hair. the droning became more robust and the darkness shrouded my vision. The tears and sorrow of others from my wretched past came to be. 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 howled, 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 all my 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 the saints had  echoed. The ravaged souls of these mad holymen came towards 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...

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">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 demise....

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);font-size:16px;line-height:26px;">Their beauteous eyes turned to the pitch black itself.... Darkness overcame me forevermore and the cackles and hymns of dead saints and bishops echoed... As I lay adrift in the Pond of Tears... <ac_metadata title="The Daughters of Death (Unreviewed)"> </ac_metadata>