Le début d'une nouvelle vie
Pain. The very first of my memories. It was a sharp, precise burning around my neck, my wrists, and within my nose. I opened my eyes and no time was needed for them to adjust to the darkness. I
looked down to find a pale body completely bare save for two thin cords of jewelry.
My mind made the connection. I watched as pale fingers, my fingers, raked their nails down pale forearms, my forearms, and felt as those same digits shredded through the cold flesh of my neck and
chest, all in a desperate attempt to dislodge the silver.
I screamed the moment thick crimson cruor began to ooze slowly from the few slash wounds and the bloody hole that adorned my left nostril. Three gore-covered silver chains and one still hooked stud lay, reflecting a weak light beside me.
Un goût de vie
I opened my eyes again, the act seeming somehow automatic. Whether I willed it or not, I was to awaken. My mind was orderly and clear, though I felt confused. My thoughts were comprehensible and
straightforward. What had happened - hours? - before was definitely reasonable, unmistakably conventional. It was right. Expected. I didn't understand why I was so sure. I felt instinctively that
this was the way things were and so there was no point in questioning it.
\"Shay, my sweet,\" came a voice. Male; dark and rich and tender. I recognized it and, though I couldn't place it, I could feel its pull and its drawing, its attempts to impress its will upon me.
But suddenly it was furious. \"Why do you not obey my commands!\" Lying beside me, opposite the discarded silver, his hands were hard and rough as he pulled at my waist, pressuring and maneuvering until I couldn't move. His scent was familiar, and though I tried to recognize it - recognize him - I couldn't. It was then that it hit me; the scent. It was delightful, absolutely mouthwatering, divine. I felt a new and intense pull. I craved what flowed beneath his exterior membranous organ and, with a surging ferocity that stunned him to surprised silence, I took what I wanted. Every. Last. Drop.
La lumière et mon ombre
Curious by nature, it did not take me long to discover the tunnel. I had no idea where it lead but I wasn't about to leave it unexplored. Fresh smelling and brighter than the rest of the cave I
called home, it piqued my interest.
It was beautiful, the end. Radiantly so. Bright with light, every ray streaming past the archway that was the entrance to be reflected by every smooth-sided rock and coloured crystal that made up the walls. It's beauty hit me full force and, although the danger was clear, although every fiber of my being warned me away, I still continued forward. I kept my gaze ahead, intent on reaching the light. Many times I had to turn my head for fear of blinding myself. I didn't think I could make it to the end.
Unfortunately for me my path never wavered. I did manage to reach the the end. I did manage to meet the light. And oh, how I screamed!
Over and over, again and again, I screamed until I could scream no longer, until the burning light made it just too painful to move. I would die there, I knew. Still and silent as I was burned
And then it came. A shadow it seemed as it hovered over me, looking down at my charred and almost completely black body with shining eyes. I realized that I was moving. But that my roll wasn't
being powered by my own muscles was all I could understand. I was too tired and in too much pain to think of any more.
I woke to darkness. But a fresh smelling darkness. I looked down to see two things; my body, red and swollen but no longer black; and my shadow, considerably smaller than it had been before,
watching me with depthless eyes.
I never travelled out into the light again
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