The air is unreasonably warm. Scent of rotted things and fetid pools within bogs blend to create a most displeasing aroma. Nothing lives here as one would perceive ‘living’. Though the trees are blackened sticks, they pulse with a wicked breath.
A lake of unfathomable coldness surrounds these wet sludge lands. I stand upon the banks that overlook it. Far away in thought. None of the unpleasantness affects me. For I’ve greater things to concern me. I am in wait for someone.
Indeed, I have waited a thousand lifetimes for him. I’ve often watched as he comes to me, just never has he come for me. For we, can never be. He either rides a shadow steed or crosses these dark smooth waters of the Styx. .
Today he arrives by boat.
Fog rolls in thick, exhaling breathy sighs. Grey-white tendrils caress my cheek.
“He comes. He comes. Your beloved one he comes.” Whisper voices of legions. Their sound fades and then grows louder with each punctuated sentence.
I barely pay attention. For my focus is on he. I close my eyes to hear his oar slicing deftly into the depths of the river. Each stroke mimics heartbeats, for his cold black heart lay still. Yet I know its deathly silence belongs only to me.
“Please. What do you want?!” My reverie is shattered by a shrill cry.
There, within the boat, sits a huddled terrified figure. It whimpers, then hiccups.
The distance between us grows less. Soon I will be near him.
I motion with a slight shake of my head for the fog to leave. Whispy mist protests in a siren’s seductive plea. But I ignore it. The disappointed vapor then plunges down into the waters below.
I make my way to the dock and the craft pulls up silently beside it. Planks creak as my footfalls move swiftly towards them. Though I long to gaze lengthily at the one who steers this vessel, I’ve a task to take care of immediately.
“Arise.” My unemotional tone dictates to the one sitting.
He does so shakily, then speaks in a tremulous voice, “I am a rich man. I can pay you anything you desire. Just please take me home!”
“Your money means nothing here mortal. For today is your judgement day.” With that, there is a mighty rush of winged creatures which arise from the undead trees. They clamor upon his dismal self. Weaving themselves in and out of his rigid body. His eyes widen and I know he wants to scream. But the abstract animals have stolen even his voice. When they are finished they swoop in loops and come to hover near me.
“Enter my beauties.” I command. And they do.
They invade my mind, my body and all of my senses. Ripping, tearing at the very fiber of existence. I call them my ‘tellers’. Perhaps not a unique moniker for these beasts, but it is what they do. Each hold an intricate detail of the man’s life. Their soft flutterings speak to me of all his deeds. Good or bad. And I am not disappointed. Elation swells within my chest for he will spend an eternity burning.
The tiny beings escape freely. Then fly in unison back to their hives in the trees.
A sickly grin plays upon my lips. “Good news mortal.” I announce. “You get to go home.”
His face slackens with relief. He opens his mouth to thank me but the air rips in two. Sulphur puffs out in great clouds. I breathe it in as though it is the only thing that could ever
sustain me.
Shrieks of indescribable tortures stretch out, beautiful music to my ears. If the air had been warm before, it was now freakishly sizzling. The fires gnash out in licking flames, searing all who dwell within its essence. It does not kill but neither offers any relief. Not for one moment is mercy shown.
Before the man can react, his flesh is torn off of his bones. Fat bubbles, blood seeps. It is then, he screams. Invisible arms reach out sucking him into the scene before us. Like a rewound movie everything folds back into the state it had been before and is then gone as though it’d never existed. The eerie atmosphere returns.
I am left with the one before me who has remained so still, he could be mistaken for a black marble statue. Not even his cloak nor scythe moves.
I can now briefly look upon him. But if I stare too long, even I could be lost to the void that is him.
We say nothing. There is no need to. And it seems all too soon that he finally grasps onto an oar, while balancing his menacing weapon. It glints as he readies to depart, though there shines no sun.
Bitter disappointment fills me as the waters begin to take him away once more. Not even I have the power to persuade an outcome different than this must be. For his entire presence merely is.
“Lucifer!” A beast-thing calls out to me. I turn towards it in such a rage. My attention having to be distracted away from the object of my complete obsession. It cowers, mumbling apologetically about Deamon Collector needing to return to his spot here on the banks. For I’d handled today’s soul disposal personally.
Normally I’d take immense delight in beating this thing before me. Stripping it to the core then devouring it over and over again. Just to inflict such horrors as never heard of. But already my mind is plotting. Scheming another meeting with the one I want. I’ve much to do, however every part of me lusts for a brief encounter before I go about tainting more souls.
I am feeling extra cruel and so I search for the victory that will give me the vilest of gratifications.
My next victim is never far away. And I leave this present place to wander my kingdom of earth.
There she is. Preacher’s daughter. Battered, used and abused in the most sadistic of ways. I am delighted! For a needle pauses over her tourniqueted arm. I lean in, reassuring her mind, that she absolutely needs the liquid drug. Of its dreamy languid properties. She will feel such bliss and certainly this little bit of selfishness will do no one harm. None need to ever know. And so she listens. As they all do with a bit of nudging. It is what they truly want anyhow.
This brings the effect I have counted on. For she dies in brutal convulsions. I clasp my hands together in dark euphoria. Yes! A perfect ending! Now I shall have another to add to my hell-ish collection. Her father will curse his Creator and become an exquisite instrument for my use. But the best for me is yet to come.
“He comes. He comes. Your beloved one he comes.” Crows gather, smudging the sky in ebony. Their cries heightening my expectations.
Ground begins to murmur a low trembling. Horse hooves thunder, coming closer. There he is, astride a black skeleton stallion. Its nostrils evicting great plumes of death. Scythe poised dangerously.
The human’s body lay quiet.
The rumble of fate barely pauses. He leans over and in the most fluid of motions, weapon parts the mortal in half. Squishy bowels and wriggling intestines burst out. The blade is wet with blood and hair.
Her soul gasps loose and is swooped up quickly in my beloved’s arms. She screams wildly as he places her face down across the saddle. I feel a moment of livid jealousy as I will never be held by him.
They take off in a flurried storm of foul shadows and hideous spirits that circle them like desert vultures. In the distance hell hounds howl excitedly, waiting eagerly for the new one that is on the way.
I am left behind in the wake of its aftermath. Grinning stupidly. Proud of the smallest of triumphs. As all the underworld knows, this Prince of Darkness is never to be denied any sort of heinous whim or bizarre impulse. Especially when it comes to matters of what I will never possess.
For today not only did he come to me but within my twisted mind, he’d also come for me.
‘A Dark Love Affair” Written by ©®™ Atusha Avarus
I began to write of a dark love affair between lady death and death himself. But as my warped mind kept thinking, a new concept developed. I deliberately began to attempt to deceive the reader into believing the main character is a ‘she’. At the end it is revealed ‘she’ is Lucifer. A proud beautiful male in all his glory. Lucifer is in love with Death. Indeed the two are irrevocably intertwined. I made Lucifer a male to shock readers (something taboo) and also, isn’t the Prince of Darkness the lord of desires? Does it not make sense he would take delight in all pleasures of the flesh? Race, gender nor beliefs matter to him. Lucifer yearns to see his lover often. And so he sets out to ensure this happens. By influencing with deception, the preacher’s daughter to take her life. It serves his own selfish lusts. He will get what he wants no matter what. After all, that is who Lucifer truly is.
Death is portrayed as coming by water or by horse. For death comes in many forms. I simply put my own twist to this tale.
I do hope you enjoyed!
~Atusha~
