Categories > Original > Horror
Whore of Babylon
0 reviewsInspired by the song "Cain" by Tiamet - the lyrics are included. The whole idea was eventually transferred to a dance, but the descriptions are still lyrical in themselves.
0Unrated
She stands in Eden.
The trees are tall, spaced like an orchard, their fruit plump and ripe. Their leaves are a bright green, glistening in the golden sunlight from the perfect sun. The ground is lush with a carpet-like grass, fresh and green like mint. The sky rising from the horizon is blue like indigo crayons, fresh from the box.
Everything is fresh, clean, new, and bright. Everything is perfect. She, however, is not.
Hair brown like the bark on the trees, skin a light shade barely above a pale pink, the lids closed over perfectly round green-brown orbs. Her form is straight lines bent here and there to indicate her sex, as well as the swell at her chest. She is robed in a clean, white dress, slung from one shoulder down to her thighs and cinched loosely at her waist. Marring this beautiful being is a gash from her right shoulder going diagonally down her chest to her left arm pit, the blood staining the top of her gown.
She stands in Eden. Her head is tilted, her eyes closed, her hands at her sides. It is as if the whole world held it's breath for her. Then the sound of birds, the music of their notes, broke the stillness. Her eyes fluttered - the first few notes of something other than birdsong lifted the air from its slumber. Like a puppet string, one hand rose in the air a few inches, and then settled back to her side as the sound faded away. There, the sound, there it was again, and her other hand rises, then settles like dust on an untraveled road.
Finally chords strike out, carrying a finely tuned rhythm, and Eden begins to fade. The girl looks up, startled, her limbs held in time as she watches her world turn from its brightly colored joy to decayed chaos. To her left, the world is browned and burned, to her right, still perfect. The darkness is gathering on the left, and then she hears a voice.
"I gave you my love; though crystallized, I sent you a rose with nevermore." A figure steps from the shadows, nothing more than a shadow itself, its voice deep and masculine. The girl feels a strange tug in her chest, something she never knew before, this strange pull, which felt so good, but also brought pain. She was still held fast by some unseen force, and she watched the figure draw nearer.
"So many years...
"So many hours...
"And only thistles on my shore." The figure proffered one clenched fist - the girl felt one hand free, and she reached for what it was offering, slowly, forward, the pale and the dark reached to coincide.
"For all that it's worth, the blood on my hands," the hand opened to show a masculine, black hand, not brown like leaves, but black like night, black like coal. The hand, so beautiful, carved from ebony, was drenched in fresh, bright blood, the only color in the chaotic half of the realm.
"The blood on my hands is the blood of divinities." The girl reaches forward to touch the blood, one pale finger touching the fresh blood and staining the skin with the crimson liquid.
"Sound or unsound, only bonds between you and me." Suddenly the hand caught hers, pulling her forward to the darkness, tearing her away from her brightly colored world of light.
"If I go, will you follow?" It spun her like a dancer, and her body followed suit without restrain or complaint, the limbs following in time, her eyes and face the only protestation or question. "Follow me through the cracks and hollows; And I would be your Cain." The bloodied hands drew the girl close, stroking a finger down one pale cheek, drawing a line of blood on the smooth expanse of blank. It whispered in her ear, through clenched teeth.
"If you would be here, now."
It flung her back out, the pale girl with the blood on her skin, her cheek and her breast - and let go of her, fading back into the darkness, leaving the girl wide-eyed and terrified.
"The Mother-of-Pearl, handcrafted by God - you're the tower they built to reach the sky." She can hear his voice, but it comes from everywhere and no where, surrounding her. She turns and runs, trips, falls, crawls...she can't escape the cloud of darkness that surrounds her.
"A white falcon beauty...my mark on your skin..." The cut from her shoulder to her arm pit pulses with a sudden flash of pain, causing the first sound to fly from those flawless lips; she screams, loud and long, one hand flying to the fresh-bleeding wound, gasping, tears coming from her earth-tinted eyes.
"Follow me down the stairs when we die." Where she lies on the ground, a hollow opens, stairs descending. She crawls down, leaving a trail of blood in her wake, looking for somewhere to hide from her disgrace, from her fall. Crying, bleeding, screaming, and so different from the child in Eden what seemed a millennia ago.
"Your soul is in Heaven."
She feels something leave her, and sees her golden soul rising on downy wings towards the pearly gates in the sky. Her brow furrows, and she cries out against this turn of events, reaching for what she has lost and may never regain.
"Your body in Hell."
She slips on her own blood, falling the rest of the way down the stairs, knocking against every angle, every crevice of the stairs, opening new wounds in every possible spot on her body, leaving her bloody, bruised, broken, crying, screaming, and praying. Praying to a deaf God in Heaven, gloating over the newly acquired gold and jeweled soul, strengthening and adding to His wealth.
"It doesn't matter much to me." She looks up to see the black figure again, this time in full form, a man carved of a block of ebony, even his eyes black orbs that were endless night. He reached down a bloody hand to her, offering her assistance, but she was too broken to reach up to take the help. He bent on one knee and lifted her up, not taking any care to her wounds, and she screamed again.
"In the night of the unborn, sound or obscene, only bonds between you and me." He kisses her, making her cry out into his mouth, making her mouth and lips bleed with agony untold. He kisses her deeply, then releases her mouth and moves further into the catacombs of Hell. He whispers softly in her ear.
"If I go will you follow me through the cracks and hollows, and I would be your Cain..." He lays her down on a bench in some small, forgotten cell in Hell. He chains her to the bench, the rusty shackles chafing the cuts and smearing the blood on her pale, smooth, perfect skin. He shackles her wrists and ankles, and one last one around her neck, holding her head down, her face tear-stained and dirty. Her white dress is now black with dirt and blood.
"If you would be here now."
He kneels next to her and folds his hands in prayer. "Blessed be our Lady Nuit; guide us to Ra-Hoor-Khuit; in your night we find shelter, before the Helter Skelter."
The darkness descended, and the man faded into the backdrop, leaving the girl chained in Hell, her soul gone to Heaven - stolen from her Eden, gone from the world, given to Hell.
"If you...would be...here now..."
The trees are tall, spaced like an orchard, their fruit plump and ripe. Their leaves are a bright green, glistening in the golden sunlight from the perfect sun. The ground is lush with a carpet-like grass, fresh and green like mint. The sky rising from the horizon is blue like indigo crayons, fresh from the box.
Everything is fresh, clean, new, and bright. Everything is perfect. She, however, is not.
Hair brown like the bark on the trees, skin a light shade barely above a pale pink, the lids closed over perfectly round green-brown orbs. Her form is straight lines bent here and there to indicate her sex, as well as the swell at her chest. She is robed in a clean, white dress, slung from one shoulder down to her thighs and cinched loosely at her waist. Marring this beautiful being is a gash from her right shoulder going diagonally down her chest to her left arm pit, the blood staining the top of her gown.
She stands in Eden. Her head is tilted, her eyes closed, her hands at her sides. It is as if the whole world held it's breath for her. Then the sound of birds, the music of their notes, broke the stillness. Her eyes fluttered - the first few notes of something other than birdsong lifted the air from its slumber. Like a puppet string, one hand rose in the air a few inches, and then settled back to her side as the sound faded away. There, the sound, there it was again, and her other hand rises, then settles like dust on an untraveled road.
Finally chords strike out, carrying a finely tuned rhythm, and Eden begins to fade. The girl looks up, startled, her limbs held in time as she watches her world turn from its brightly colored joy to decayed chaos. To her left, the world is browned and burned, to her right, still perfect. The darkness is gathering on the left, and then she hears a voice.
"I gave you my love; though crystallized, I sent you a rose with nevermore." A figure steps from the shadows, nothing more than a shadow itself, its voice deep and masculine. The girl feels a strange tug in her chest, something she never knew before, this strange pull, which felt so good, but also brought pain. She was still held fast by some unseen force, and she watched the figure draw nearer.
"So many years...
"So many hours...
"And only thistles on my shore." The figure proffered one clenched fist - the girl felt one hand free, and she reached for what it was offering, slowly, forward, the pale and the dark reached to coincide.
"For all that it's worth, the blood on my hands," the hand opened to show a masculine, black hand, not brown like leaves, but black like night, black like coal. The hand, so beautiful, carved from ebony, was drenched in fresh, bright blood, the only color in the chaotic half of the realm.
"The blood on my hands is the blood of divinities." The girl reaches forward to touch the blood, one pale finger touching the fresh blood and staining the skin with the crimson liquid.
"Sound or unsound, only bonds between you and me." Suddenly the hand caught hers, pulling her forward to the darkness, tearing her away from her brightly colored world of light.
"If I go, will you follow?" It spun her like a dancer, and her body followed suit without restrain or complaint, the limbs following in time, her eyes and face the only protestation or question. "Follow me through the cracks and hollows; And I would be your Cain." The bloodied hands drew the girl close, stroking a finger down one pale cheek, drawing a line of blood on the smooth expanse of blank. It whispered in her ear, through clenched teeth.
"If you would be here, now."
It flung her back out, the pale girl with the blood on her skin, her cheek and her breast - and let go of her, fading back into the darkness, leaving the girl wide-eyed and terrified.
"The Mother-of-Pearl, handcrafted by God - you're the tower they built to reach the sky." She can hear his voice, but it comes from everywhere and no where, surrounding her. She turns and runs, trips, falls, crawls...she can't escape the cloud of darkness that surrounds her.
"A white falcon beauty...my mark on your skin..." The cut from her shoulder to her arm pit pulses with a sudden flash of pain, causing the first sound to fly from those flawless lips; she screams, loud and long, one hand flying to the fresh-bleeding wound, gasping, tears coming from her earth-tinted eyes.
"Follow me down the stairs when we die." Where she lies on the ground, a hollow opens, stairs descending. She crawls down, leaving a trail of blood in her wake, looking for somewhere to hide from her disgrace, from her fall. Crying, bleeding, screaming, and so different from the child in Eden what seemed a millennia ago.
"Your soul is in Heaven."
She feels something leave her, and sees her golden soul rising on downy wings towards the pearly gates in the sky. Her brow furrows, and she cries out against this turn of events, reaching for what she has lost and may never regain.
"Your body in Hell."
She slips on her own blood, falling the rest of the way down the stairs, knocking against every angle, every crevice of the stairs, opening new wounds in every possible spot on her body, leaving her bloody, bruised, broken, crying, screaming, and praying. Praying to a deaf God in Heaven, gloating over the newly acquired gold and jeweled soul, strengthening and adding to His wealth.
"It doesn't matter much to me." She looks up to see the black figure again, this time in full form, a man carved of a block of ebony, even his eyes black orbs that were endless night. He reached down a bloody hand to her, offering her assistance, but she was too broken to reach up to take the help. He bent on one knee and lifted her up, not taking any care to her wounds, and she screamed again.
"In the night of the unborn, sound or obscene, only bonds between you and me." He kisses her, making her cry out into his mouth, making her mouth and lips bleed with agony untold. He kisses her deeply, then releases her mouth and moves further into the catacombs of Hell. He whispers softly in her ear.
"If I go will you follow me through the cracks and hollows, and I would be your Cain..." He lays her down on a bench in some small, forgotten cell in Hell. He chains her to the bench, the rusty shackles chafing the cuts and smearing the blood on her pale, smooth, perfect skin. He shackles her wrists and ankles, and one last one around her neck, holding her head down, her face tear-stained and dirty. Her white dress is now black with dirt and blood.
"If you would be here now."
He kneels next to her and folds his hands in prayer. "Blessed be our Lady Nuit; guide us to Ra-Hoor-Khuit; in your night we find shelter, before the Helter Skelter."
The darkness descended, and the man faded into the backdrop, leaving the girl chained in Hell, her soul gone to Heaven - stolen from her Eden, gone from the world, given to Hell.
"If you...would be...here now..."
Sign up to rate and review this story