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The tears became a tragic reminder of his angel's dark dreams as the scene slowly faded to black, and a small crescent moon only, became the backdrop to her theater of deaths silent vigilance. What winter cold grips, and surrounds the soul taking it upon the journey to the lair of the beast?………….There to rip and tear at the fabric of its existence. Desmond looked deep into the mirror at his reflection, he had reaped the soul of his lost lover, and had raped her in what he thought was a loving embrace. "Take this soul which screams in its pain and anguish, which is forever becoming the slave to its own distorted and inherent evil. And send it to the depths of the dark dominion, where it may lay in silence within its own creation, never again to awaken." He looked away from his ugly reality, because he no longer recognized the man who glared back at him in life's reflective innocents. Desmond began to walk back to his bedchamber, knocking his bottle of laudanum off the sink. Its blue glass shattered on the tile floor as if in slow motion frame, becoming a carpet of the cruel reminder of his mortality, piercing the flesh of his tender feet as he walked on. The winged cherubs flew about her nakedness, just above her head, their black lips forming silent words of devotion. Baby darlings from hell staring intently with dark eyes, hoping for the beasts approval of their apparent emancipation. But she only swatted at them like flying insects, and they flew away hoping that her wrath would once again subside, and they could return to their worship and devotion. "Desmond………………..Here within this pitch black lay the culmination of the souls which you have reaped……………Their hearts devoted to the suffering of my hand alone, and you too shall kneel before me in devotion, and tear from the center of your soul the still beating heart which doubts your existence and your debauchery." She looked into his eyes and smiled, but within her flesh swam a different image, one of a masculine entity, its rugged and handsome looks became like an electric current that consumed her only for brief moments…………… The dream came to him as if set within a kaleidoscope of reality, a turn of the cylinder is all it took to travel between what is real, and the dreamscape………But to him, the two were becoming interlaced in a web of a different consciousness………..One of his total devotion to the dark one and the entity he created, the pale serpent…………..The reaper of the fallen souls……………..Desmond sat on the edge of his bed and removed the glass shards from the bottoms of his feet, the blood flowed and then pooled on the hardwood floor, suddenly becoming one with it……..Disappearing into its shining surface. |