Requiem

She wasn’t sure when she decided to fuck the Devil, but there was only one option at that point and she knew it.

The Devil was going to be hers. Hell be damned.

He entered her room just before midnight. The room was small, almost barren, decorated in the haute-macabre of black-laced decadence, where clove cigarettes were smoked as incense. Two tea lights burned atop a small, stylized altar. The tea lights guttered and nearly extinguished themselves as he entered, causing shadows to dance about the room like gothic gremlins.

Mansell’s Lux Aeterna roared through the air.

She rose to meet him, her gloved fingers clasping her black satin robe to her throat. He stepped closer, a rush of being, amorphous, lurid.  She let the robe slip from her fingers, let it fall past her snow-white skin to cluster around her bare feet.

The full-length, mauve gloves were the only defense decency offered as she stood before him. He reached for her, touched her. She shivered, her breath bated. His fingers caressed the gentle curve below her navel, slowly moved upward, causing her flesh to tingle.

He smiled.

She screamed.

The gothic gremlin shadows danced.

Afterward, when there was nothing left, he blew out the one, still-burning tea light—the other having been engulfed by the shadows shortly before.

In the sudden darkness—with Mansell’s Lux Aeterna on repeat, still roaring, driving, building—the faint, nearly stale, clove-cigarette incense failed to cover the bitter, metallic tang that was beginning to permeate the room. Subtle currents, not unlike the gentle curve beneath the navel, driven by the fading vorticity of the blown-out tea light, by the reverberations of the climaxing orchestration pouring through speakers now hidden in the darkness, increased the entropic manifestation of that new, bitter, metallic tang.

And in that darkness, as his passage, vorticity, and candle-extinguishing followed him from the room, as Lux Aeterna reached its last crescendo and descended abruptly into the final, quiet sob of a few lonely notes, she simply, silently, ceased to exist.

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~ by liberdementia on January 19, 2010.

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