Your Call

November 5, 2013November 17, 2014 ~ Nina D'Arcangela ~ 38 Comments

Darkness surrounds me; my ever-present companion, both the bearer and child of my scorched and withered being.

Inky pools of lesser light that beckon me to breach them. A soft, subtle whisper of promised indulgence; the caress of a dank breath never to be drawn that tugs at my soul; the gentle rustlings of the unknown scuttling though my mind that speak of a dusky beauty – things that never were but should always have been.

Dare I step closer only to find myself enamored by the all consuming draw of your call? Do I finally release the pang that I have held so dear and tender to me these years gone by? Do I allow you to exist in the light or shall I surrender to the smothering depths of a mind already drowned in madness?

The pull of the shadows is such a thing of comfort as to blanket itself around me while it slowly suckles my very being into non-existence. But the exquisite embrace this lack of existence offers is such a supple and soothing one; to fade to obscurity, what a delight that would be, yet an injustice to all that you would have been. Year upon agonizing year I have listened to your call and let it go unanswered, keeping hidden the unbridled desire to glance upon the you that never was.

There may not be a path that leads back to the dimmer shadows once I allow myself this wanton freedom, though I do not believe I would seek one. My poor darling Angel who has lived in a trapped darkness for so long, will you no longer torture me if I allow this coupling its place, or will you still haunt every step I lay upon a ground you shall never touch, breathe the breadth you shall never have, feel and see the beauty that you shall never know?

~ Nina D’Arcangela

Let the Damning Begin!
Those cursed with our foul taint, heed this call, bear witness to this Damned offering. The prizes for burying yourself in our Coffin are as such:

Grand Prize:
Jaimie Engle shall swig her poison from a Pen of the Damned Flask!
(Pen of the Damned on CafePress)

Pen of the Damned eBook Anthology prizes:
Yessss, the Damned have been scribbling their demented ravings and collecting the torn shreds for your bemusement. May the eyes and ears of the Four Horsewomen of the Apocalypse bleed upon sight and sound of our collective madness!
Lori Joyce Parker, Mari Wells, Georgina Morales, and ShadowGirl

Coffin Hop Anthology:
One final slaughter to add to the Coffin, a Death by Drive-In – no finer way to depart this existence for the next! Juan Gutierrez will be granted an eBook copy of the Coffin Hop Anthology!

Until the next utterance from the Damned, beware what scuttles in the darkened corners of your own mind…

Odonates

February 19, 2013November 17, 2014 ~ Nina D'Arcangela ~ 19 Comments

Beautiful creature of destruction; you are the embodiment of majesty and grandeur darting through the air; humming past in the blink of an eye, stunning your prey into a shock of paralytic fear; engaged always in aerial combat with the currents that fight your forward progress; rising, dropping, jerking, zipping.

Always seeking…

What is it you seek on those elegant gossamer wings? Perhaps the next meal that awaits you… What else would a voracious thing such as yourself desire? You, with your crushing mandibles and gnashing teeth, so willing to consume all that cross your path and thereafter, your gullet. A beast of miniscule proportion whose lust to sate itself knows no bounds – respects no boundaries.

The patter of rain does not deter you from the hunt – your need for nourishment is all consuming; it’s all your disjointed body knows. The repeated pumping of your clasping organ seeking purchase as it curves downward to secure a hold in this new and foreign terrain. Your legs spread so delicately, laid wide ever so gently, in this most opportunistic of places. Large bead like eyes of gleaming blackness adapted for spotting the smallest of morsels passing by whilst you suckle on nature’s other offerings.

You have at last found a worthy feeding ground amongst the thin grasses of this murky bank. This piece of drift offers a perch from which you may indulge your glutinous greed. You seek a place to hide, a place of recess from which you may ambush unsuspecting prey.

Cloaked by stealth and the hush of your own inner stillness, you await what tasty treat flicks past seeking a safety all its own whilst knowing not that you are now the monstrous dark occupant which all others must fear in this previously safe harbor.

~ Nina D’Arcangela

Deluge

January 15, 2013November 17, 2014 ~ Nina D'Arcangela ~ 25 Comments

The crack of the loudest thunder clap roars; my body vibrates with the echo, an untamed longing for more.

The joy washed away; a vile deluge now pouring, the razor’s slash of the cruelest tongue.

Pain inflicted with intent to harm; ripping at my sanity in an unjust tumult of words, the harshest weapons of all.

My mind torn to pieces; this voice carries devastation, wielded with nary a care for the moments yet to come.

A shattering silence; how loud the quiet has become, how lonely this false sense of solitude.

The patter of a different storm; a shedding that cleanses, gently this time in a subtle downpour.

If only you’d count the raindrops with me; do you see – they are beginning to fall…

~ Nina D’Arcangela

Bound

June 5, 2012November 17, 2014 ~ Nina D'Arcangela ~ 17 Comments

As I look down at her cuffed and shackled form lying in its own filth and squalor on the stone floor, I feel no pity, no remorse, no compassion for what has been done to this pathetic creature before me. I feel revulsion and shame – shame that she would allow herself to come to this.

She begs me to free her, to release her from this pain and torment. Though she may be ignorant of the consequences, these things she asks of me are within my capacity to grant. Reaching down, I grasp her collared throat and pull the wretch towards me, snapping free wrist restraints and the chain that attaches her collar to stone. Blood trickles freely where her bonds are torn. She pleads with me not to hurt her. Hurt her? I would never harm that which begs for its own mercy, I would not debase myself in such a way. I wish only to have her pathetic carcass removed from my view and rid myself of its vile stench. She may not be of a mind to understand this, but we all serve a master – and mine requires I perform this act of compassion towards this putrid thing, my choice unconsidered.

Into a sunlight she’s not seen in years, I drag her writhing body. She yelps at being treated so, hauled across the soil in my vise-like grip. But having been kept chained in darkness for so long, there is no fight left in her.

Reaching a calm pool of water trapped in the curve of a small sun filled recess alongside a river, I toss her ripe and blood caked body to the ground. With a gentleness she does not expect nor deserve, I kneel beside her as I remove the symbols of the sins committed against her; the first of which is the collar I too have used to tame her.

Unsure what to make of such an act, she looks on me with both fear and desperation. An overwhelming desire to believe I am her savior crawls through her amber stare. This wretched girl, this torn and shame ridden child of man, covered in her own vile excrement and foul drippings – she wears her guilt as though it were a queen’s cloak, yet soaked in the foulest of deeds. Salvation she wishes for, in her eyes she is not to blame for all that has transpired. Is there yet kindness enough left within me to offer her such a thing, she silently begs. Yes, I believe there is.

Removing my own shirt, I dip it into the clear water at the river’s edge. Tentative of my ministrations at first, she cowers as I use the garment to cleanse not only her damaged body, but also her ruined soul. I allow the cool water to rinse over her hair, down her face, her exposed back, baptizing her body once again in a purity she cannot even remember she once possessed. Washed clean she is a thing of beauty even to my time ravaged eye; it’s no wonder I found her trapped in such a pit. Beauty is the trickster’s tool – it is a thing to be cherished, a thing of great value, a thing most would hold in high regard. But beauty is also a curse that cannot be outrun when the shadow of evil takes notice and comes to call, exacting payment for just such an indulgence.

Gazing at the creature before me, I admit her beauty seems near a virtue, or I should say may have at one time. Having been used and wrung dry, this beauty is scarred so deeply on the inside that I almost feel pity for her – almost.

I watch her for quite some time; captivated by the mere sight of her and the quiet joy she seems to extract from her new-found freedom. My gaze cannot help but wander her exquisite form. She opens her eyes. No longer filled with fear, I see admiration and gratitude for this benevolence I have shown her.

As her hair blows in the soft breeze, I lean over her, our raven locks intertwine as if to embrace for a lover’s dance. She gently shuts her eyes as my hand strokes through her hair, down her cheek, coming to rest on her alabaster throat that is turned up and exposed to me in a gesture of supplication. I pause long enough for her to open her eyes once again, long enough to breathe in her breath, long enough for her to fully convey an acceptance of my wants as a sign of gratitude for all that I have done for her.

My eyes peering into hers, our lips barely touching, my fingers still caressing her soft flesh, I snap her neck as though it were a bothersome twig in my path, and her limp form falls to the side.

I stand for a moment looking back on her. She retains a beauty and grace even in death, more so perhaps because of it. Her sins absolved? I hardly think so. She begged mercy from her god, a mercy that would set her free. Little did she know he would send a darkling in guise of beauty itself to free her of all her sins, even those she had not yet committed.

~ Nina D’Arcangela