By terry
Date: 31 October 2000
Feast of Love
As the page turned slowly, shaking hand so pallid white it was almost ghostly in the dim light, I began the incantation as the old woman had instructed. God, I could still hear her raspy voice echoing through my brain from that night. “He he he, sonny boy, ‘tis dark pandering ye be messing in. ‘Tis always best to let the dead lay in peace, for once ‘ye do what you’ll find in this book, ...well, some things done can ‘ner be undone.”
But with a shake of the head, I drove her voice away. I had to do this; there was no question otherwise. My Mary was simply too young, too innocent and filled with light to be taken this way. And by the very God in Heaven or every demon in Hell, I would correct what fate had so carelessly allowed if there was any way at all. Even this dark way.
So I began, “Azaroth achemes udolol eh Beezelbub! I beseech thee in the name of the most unholy. I command the powers of the underworld to heed my cry this night, by the power of primrose and belladonna I call you forth. Heed these mortal words that call to service your dark power. Essence of wormwood and holy water steeped in urine I offer. And for this boon I seek, I offer something sweeter oh dark spirit. My left thumb and left forefinger to quench your hunger.” And with a silent prayer for my own soul, I sliced down without hesitation with the short axe at ready, severing the needed digits for the spell. Blood burst forth in a spray, and to stop the flow I was forced to plunge my hand into the fire. Allowing the hot flame to seal and cauterize the wound. But God, the searing, white-hot pain. I almost fainted from the blistering smell, saving myself by the sheer force of will. And steadying myself with my one good hand. And now, I cast the now useless flesh into the pewter bowl. “Azaroth achemes udolol eh Beezelbub! I beseech thee in the name of the most unholy. Come forth and hear my need. I command thee by the power of Satan himself, send forth Baal to do my bidding this night. Azaroth achemes udolol eh Beezelbub.”
And suddenly the air grew heavier, thicker, but at the same time, rank, and malevolent. To my right, a dark spot grew darker and seemed to grow dense as a voice spoke from the silence within. “I will hear your need meat, speak.” And with no thought of turning back, nor consequence, I whispered her name. "Mary, my sweet Mary. I want her back.”
And so now, I sit and wait. And think. And wonder. What have I wrought this night? Every tick of the clock rattles through my head. And I can hear the winter wind whistling under the door. And every creak of the house drives into my brain as I wait. Until...yes, a light scratching at the kitchen door. And do I dare open it now? Do I? But I have no choice, for the very desire that brought me to this place still grips my soul.
Taking fear in hand, I fling open the door. And oh dear God, there she stands. As beautiful, as vibrant, and healthy as I remembered from the very first day we kissed! And without thought or hesitation, I grabbed my Mary in an embrace that had played repeatedly in my mind. The swell of her sweet breasts pushed into my chest, and I could feel her nipples harden like flint. And her hand slid down my body like a snake, weaving in and around and settling on my rising erection in a way I remembered well, as her nails raked lines across the taut denim. And I lowered my head and drank in kiss after kiss, frantically chewing on her lips with a hunger that went deep, to my soul. And I felt my good right hand creeping up under her dress, seeking that moist cleft through her now wet panties. And as I stumbled back, into the house, I felt myself falling, still holding Mary tight, my body cushioning her fall, and we rolled onto the carpet, as I struggled to pull my sweater off without breaking our touch. And it was when my torso was bare that I noticed the reddish glimmer shining in her eyes. And this time it was Mary who started the kissing, her lips coursing up and down with such passion and need that I could only lay there and gasp with pleasure. And when I felt her teeth break the skin on my breast can I say I was surprised? No, for I always knew there would be a price. So I lay there and felt the raspy coarseness of her tongue go to work. And the first strip of flesh was really the worse. Not so bad really. I only had to close my eyes and feel the ripe fullness of her breast in my hand to know I had done the right thing. And it’s not so bad really. Being eaten alive. Only the first bite hurts you know. Only the first.
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