Weeks I’ve spent here, pages after pages read. The words within tell me nothing now but nonsense.
Characters of unknown alphabets litter parchment. No longer can I read this scripture’s nonsense.
Turning once more, I view some scratch that’s legible. Before me, “He Is Coming.” is written out in pitch black ink.
These words were not here yesterday, nor were they here the day before. I grab my bone knife and I hide in the shadows.
Gates, clanking open… footsteps…
A white hot crucifix, pierces into my back. I fall to the floor as I turn and face the attacker. A hooded priest.
Priest: In the name of the Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, strengthened by the intercession of Mary—-.
Bastien: “No!” I scream, and pull the cross from in my back, throw it in his face and make a grab for my blade.
He falls atop me Screaming more Christian nonsense, lies about the Archangel Michael. I stab him in the throat. I rip incessantly.
Hunger. Anger. I sense the urge to feed. This is freshest blood. Before me, purest heart feast.
As I tear, and I tear, and I gnaw, gurgling shrieks burst from the clergyman.
Have I got so completely insane to accept that I’ll eat live human meat? I cannot help myself as my thoughts are riddled with regret and pleasure.
Oh, by god, what have I done again? A man of Christ has died by my hand, by tooth and claw.
I feel a touch of regret, I feel a touch of pride. I feel a touch of psychosis, creeping up my spine.
Sleep. I must sleep, and get this off my mind. Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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