I taste memory like the sour tang in the back of my throat; it’s long and dark and hard and cold, it whips across my face like a sharp smack against my eyes. I suppress is, the dull ache in my brain, the maggots and worms making their way out of the confines, the labyrinth lost within. My inky tendrils fall across my eyes, concealing, hiding the world through the — like little glass orbs an oracle might bend and bow over, they glow and they fuzz, cloudy memories jumbled and faded, some know nothing of them, but others see exactly what is being shown.
I see what is in front of me; she is death’s beauty, a taunting lie upon tantalising lips, she is everything I need to know, she is all I want to see. It’s deception’s ugly kiss upon my brow, just looking at her, feeling her close; there is a dullness within her, an ache like my own, but she hides it well, beneath the corpses and bloody trail she must leave behind in her wake.
’A Goddess, the keeper of the gates of hell—‘ my voice is spurred on with an excitement, a strange whimsy that piques me inside, it tears at my soul with wanton greatness and I let it bow and break me down inside. I’m all puzzles and questions, riddles and rhymes. I’m not like the ghostly queen before me, I’m a shadow, that stray ink blot upon that very important contract. I’m what you forget is there, but listens, sees. I listen to her, my ears twitch, black tips turning in, turning out. they absorb her energy, her song. And they hit me, knife-like and sharp, right through my heart, and I feel. it is the most I’ve felt since I lost the one within me; my blood, my flesh — gone.
’You are a sacrifice for something greater, there is more and more than meets the eye. Chantale, death’s angel, you are the missing piece in life’s great design. For what starts with life, ends with death.’ my voice is haunting, a lullaby to the dead at sea. I inch closer, her scent, decay, death, it invites me in, like the morbid little creature I am. I bend to her will, I feel her touch, I embrace it and outstretch my own velvet nose. Shadows and night, darkness and despair.
’That’s how it started — how will it end?’ My voice trails off into the dying breeze, even the air becomes stagnant and deathly suffocating. ’I’ll be anything you need, I must know all, I must know.’ obsessive, deranged. I am unsure but all I know is this ghoul before me, of whimsy and witchery, of death and decay, she is what I need, what I want to know, become, feel, surpass. I am a design in someone’s flawless plan, all I need is a job, all I need is a little encouragement. I’d bend the metallic will of man, I’d taste the blood of innocent children, if it gave me the answer, to find what I’m meant for, what lock I fit in; a key is useless without it’s lock after all…
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