Dear
ladies of amiable virtue, before you seek to condemn this young woman
for what has befallen, let us carefully observe the details as they
unfold. Watching closely as she goes through the ritual of change
that many young girls will witness in their arousal. Crawling off the
bed, her nightdress unbuttoned she wearily grabs her small bag with
it's contents and proceeds in hesitation towards the bathroom. The
passage is dark and so she feels secluded from those that dare to
judge what they cannot understand. Once inside she locks the door and
stares at the image within the mirror.
She
breaths a temporary sigh of relief, for knowing she has already been
penetrated, and that in a reversal of fortune her stomach feels
drained, No youthful existence will therefore flourish. For childhood
dreams have never been born, And the embryonic existence she once
knew has finally been crushed. She stares at herself as a woman,
allowing her nightdress to fall. Whilst studying her milkened flesh
that he has drunk from. Her breasts sag yet they will be renourished
as the desire comes upon her. Yet as the dark clouds form and the
Moon shines brightly, she knows it is time for the test to begin. In
anticipation she reaches in for “The Book” the small torn and
battered holy scripture that has guided her so well until now, yet
maybe there is hope?
She
watches as two thin lines of blood trickle from her neck and fall
upon the blackened leather. She reaches out and attempts to brush
them off with the slenderness of her fingers.
The
pages burn, they turn blue, the flame shows the test is positive.
Though she prays she has not been cast aside. And as the pages lay
scattered in a heap of charred remains, she reaches in to the bag and
knows there are two more tests to perform. The small bottle of holy
water; Here fingers begin to unscrew the top, and as the water begins
to trickle she allows it to break free of it's contents, causing her
to scream, the burning sensation upon her neck, the steam that hisses
as she drops the contents, watching as her water leaves a puddle over
the bathroom floor, mixed with the blood to create a more darkened
result.
If
you seek to condemn in anticipation of the outcome, then dear ladies,
may I announce they will fade along with the image within the mirror.
No longer reflected of a long forgotten mortal existence, she stares
at nothingness. Her innocence has left her, she tastes the soft blood
stained upon her canine teeth. The arousal taken from her has begun
to return, knowing that when she embraces, she will control the body
in it's splendour, causing it to become rigid in fear and
anticipation of the outcome. Uncleansed and unchaste she unlocks the
bathroom door, clutching the marks on her neck in acceptance as she
crawls along the corridor, until she reaches her bedroom and flings
open the window. The cold air penetrates her warm body as she reels
in shame at the chain and crucifix that now lay on the floor. She is
distracted by the flapping of wings as if being called to a new
existence.
And
so dear ladies, she lays upon her bed, in acceptance of what she is,
knowing that her Demon Lover will return
The
End
