Dying Soul

He felt like he had just been sucker punched in the gut and his face twisted in pain as a stabbing sensation repeated itself over and over again in his chest; it was his heart. It was slowly breaking up into sharp pieces and each piece was piercing into his very soul, sinking into it. And each little piece had her venomous words etched into them. He couldn’t breathe, he tried so hard but every breath caused his chest to constrict even more. He had never been a man of emotions, never been one to express them or show that he even had any. But tonight all those thick walls came crashing down and the real man behind the mask was revealed; it was a sight he wanted no one to see but she saw it. She saw it all happen before her very eyes and at that exact moment she cursed herself and wanted nothing more than to cut out her forked tongue.

His knees gave in and he collapsed onto the large wooden desk behind him, his hands grasping the sides for support, fingers digging into the wood as the numbness of all that had happened faded away and his raw emotions came crashing in. It felt like every nerve ending in his entire body was exposed and set alight; it was excruciating. He lifted his now teary, dead-eyed gaze to her. His lips parted and he wanted to say so many things but the sight of her just choked him up all over again. He couldn’t speak. One look at her and everything she had just said came ringing through his ears like the sound of a fire alarm going off.

She stood there frozen in place and when he looked at her all the blood drained away, her skin felt cold and, her hands now balled in fists were clammy and her bottom lip began to tremble. She had never meant to say what she had said. In a fit of anger she had gone off at him, she had told him things that were not true at all, not one little bit but those were the things that cut him really deep. The lies were what hurt him the most because it was something he would easily believe and she knew it. She opened her mouth to speak. She wanted to take it all back but she knew she couldn’t. He wouldn’t believe her, not now. Her vision began to blur as the tears welled up in her eyes and she took one shaky step towards him. She had to try.

‘Don’t.’ his voice seemed to sound like thunder in the silence and it was filled with so much pain.

That one word was all it took. She turned and walked out the door as calmly as she could and once out of sight she ran, the tears streaming, her cries of anguish at herself, cries of regret and cries of a fool’s heart being shattered by her own stupidity rang through the house.

He remained there, his eyes falling closed and a single tear rolled down his cheek as the last piece of his heart went crashing down and pierced the final piece of his dying soul. He had nothing left. No heart. No soul. Nothing; he was now merely a hollow shell of the man he once was. Now he truly knew what it was like to hold no feelings, knew now what it meant not to feel. In that final moment of his soul’s dying did he realize that he would never get that back.

Writer's Block: Night tremors
What keeps you up at night?
I have a rather vivid and overactive imagination so if I watch a movie that leaves me with a disturbing feel in my very core, I can stay up for hours. My mind just doesn't shut down, it runs rampant with wild, vivid and very graphical thoughts of things relating to the film I have just watched.

Disturbing images can have the same affect on me as well as vivid and horrific nightmares. I believe my soul, or whatever you'd like to call it, must be a very black and twisted entity because I have more nightmares than I do good dreams. I wake up in cold sweats from vivid dreams, my mind reeling with the images, no matter how blurred they may have become. I believe there is a difference between A nightmare and MY kind of nightmares. Mine always leave me with a disturbed frame of mind and I battle to fall to sleep after that.

Other things that keep me up at night at times is when I have heard of the latest crimes against animals of any kind. I stay up thinking about that because my mind and my heart are too angered to even comprehend sleep. So they sit and stew over the information they have been given, imagining all kinds of violent deaths for the culprits involved.

Yes I'm a very passionate, dark, twisted and at times angry individual.

Nature will have its vengeance
Humans, the one species I will never understand….and I AM one. Or perhaps I’m not, perhaps I’m just some other completely different life form sent to this hellish planet to observe the barbaric and primitive lifestyle of these furless apes that walk around on the planet, thinking they own it simply because their god told them that they were on the top of the food chain, that they would be the ones to rule the land. It’s sickening actually and I’m waiting for them to be proven wrong.

Nature is not a force to be reckoned with, it is a force that should be both feared and respected because nature always has a way of wiping out what it deems to be unhealthy and a threat to its own well-being. In my opinion, humans are greatly upsetting the balance of things and one day Nature is going to decide that enough is enough. It will decide that it has been trodden on and smothered for far too long, that it has been poisoned and beaten one too many times and in its final fight to maintain its wild free spirited force, Nature will lash out and wipe this disease from its home.  I see humanity’s treatment of things in nature much like that of an oppressive ruler of a country, a dictator who holds a country in a tight, suffocating grip of unyielding oppression. The leader gets the army behind him so no one will question him and he wreaks havoc and chaos upon the country, bloodshed falling on his hands which he folds in prayer before his god asking for forgiveness for the sins he may have committed, yet feeling the slaughter of thousands of innocent women, men and children is something that needed to be done, for they were against him.

Humanity is like that with Nature. Humanity is the dictator and the army consists of the destructive machines that rip the earth to shreds and wreck the homes of animals to make way for the homes that humans need. The army is the poisonous gases that fill the lungs of animals when testing products that will be sold to humans; they have to be deemed safe first before they can be sold. I say test those products on humans; they’re the ones who are going to be using them. Everything that man creates which benefits him and him alone is harmful to Nature and all these things are what keep Nature oppressed, keep it locked away under the tight grip of fear; fear of being beaten down, abused, fear of losing more things that it holds dear to its wild beating heart. But it won’t stay like that for long. In the shadows of its prison Nature is building allies, strengthening bonds with everything that it loves and holds dear, giving strength to the entire flora and fauna that it encompasses; Nature has felt the painful sting of the oppressive whip for the last time and that anger and rage at what humanity has done to it will only make its vengeful strike that much greater.

If I were the rest of Humanity I’d be fearful because one day it will be too late to try and rectify the wrongs that have been done. It will be too late to make up for the abuse that has fallen upon the innocent animals of the earth, it will be too late to stop the poachers that slink into reserves and massacre the gentle giants of this planet simply to obtain the ivory they so greedily desire. It will be too late to try and save the animals and plants that should have been saved a long time ago. Humanity is blinded by its greed for wealth and power and before they know it, they will be the ones at the bottom of the food chain and they will be the cause of their own downfall. To planet earth, Human kind is a disease that has sunk into its very pores, caused a raging fever to spread and has been the cause of the breakdown of the planet. But nature will fight back and it will wipe this disease from the earth. Humans can pray to whatever god they want but they will only receive silence for even their gods must be shaking their heads and thinking that it was a mistake to make such a powerful entity. They should have known that creating a being like that would only spell disaster. Now their gods sit back in silence and help nature on its rightful course.

The planet is better off in the wild grasp of nature and if a natural disaster comes tomorrow to wipe this planet clean, I will welcome it with open arms.

The Way I See Her
The Way I See Her-For RuariCollapse )
The confidence rolls off her in powerful waves, 
Crashing down around me and empowering me. 
The belief she has in others to be better is astounding, 
That one person could have such faith in others to do better. 
She instills courage into those who do not have the power to do so themselves,
And to watch her do it is something quite amazing. 
But that's just the way I see her. 

Her eyes are deep, soulful and filled with wisdom beyond her years, 
And with them she has managed to cut through all the walls I had built up around me. 
She has seen right to my very core, 
Learned all that haunts me, 
All that keeps my heart in broken pieces, 
All that keeps me from moving on, moving forward and forgetting;
She has seen it all, called it forth and made me face it. 
She has not allowed me to back down,
She has not allowed me to cower and hide from my demons. 
Her eyes have managed to draw out all that I tried so hard to bury and forget, 
Not caring that it would poison me, 
Corrupt me and turn me into something shunned by most. 
But that's just the way I see her. 

She has a quick tongue, 
Many of which may find offensive but she is simply laying out the truth. 
She believes not in lies,
For lies are just another form of poison which fills us all with a corrupted force; 
She believes in truth and honesty,
She believes in being kind and not expecting anything in return. 
She has a heart of gold and an old soul;
Her beliefs in life are not seen in many today.
She is a fierce friend. 
But that's just the way I see her. 

I sit on the sidelines and watch her as she converses with the other men and women, 
Taking in the beauty of her,
Drinking in the sound of her voice and her laughter,
Inhaling deeply the scent of her, pulling her into me, 
Keeping her as close to me as I am able to. 
It is not hard to see why so many men crave her attention, 
Why so many men desire to have her for their own. 
However, I am yet to come across a man worthy to have her. 
She is far too good for them all, 
She is deserving of only the best and the best has not yet arrived. 
She deserves to be the destination of someone's journey, 
And not just a simple pit stop before they continue on their journey to find their destination.
But…That's just the way I see her.

A simple touch is a powerful thing
A simple touch is a powerful thingCollapse )

The song fills the air, the words floating about him, enveloping him in a cocoon that is filled with images that he has kept buried, images of things he so eagerly craves to do but denies himself moving past the point where such intimate acts can be reached and engaged in. He's happy on his own, he's comfortable in the life he has…why would he want to change that? Why would he want to bring someone in that could possibly hurt him worse than the last one? And there's a faint whisper floating in his mind: Because she is worth it.
With a heavy sigh he lounges in his chair, head tilted back, eyes closing and he surrenders himself to the images in his mind. He surrenders himself to the feelings such experiences would allow him to have. The song comes to an end but he hits play once more needing to hear that song play again, needing to be thrown back beneath the waves of the experiences he so eagerly craves to have with no one else but her. The song begins and so do the images: 
He sees her, sees her slender, perfect form laying before him on a soft Persian carpet set in front of the fire place, the crackling of the logs as the flames lick at them filling the room, the scent of the burning wood mixing in with the perfect, divine scent that belongs only to her. His eyes lock with hers and he can see the spark of excitement mixing in with a slight tinge of nervousness. He can hear her heart racing, the slightly rapid rise and fall of her chest an evident sign all on its own that her heart would be racing should he not be able to hear it so clearly. He moves his body to rest at her side, head resting in the palm of his hand, eyes remaining on hers, feeling them drawing him into the deep warm depths of her soul. He swallows and then allows a breath to pass through parted lips. His eyes break from hers and begin a slow trail over her body. She lay before him not in a complete naked and vulnerable state…no he wouldn't want her to feel that vulnerable; he wouldn't want her to feel vulnerable at all really but he knows that laying there on the soft rug, the thin fabric of her lingerie the only form of clothing she has on….well he knows she'd feel slightly vulnerable….he wants to take that away from her. 
His eyes come to the end of their trail having hungrily taken in every detail of her, taking note of every beauty mark she has, taking note of any small scars she may have and wondering where they have come from and what the story is behind each…but that will have to wait. His eyes return to hers, her breathing heavier now, her scent heavy in the air, the warmth of her body next to his seeming to be warmer than the fire itself, her heart a rapidly beating drum in his ears. He lifts his free hand and begins to trace her features on her beautiful face, the touch of his fingers causing her eyes to close and a soft moan to be released on a heavy breath. His fingers move to her parted lips, outlining them slowly, the feel of her breath on his fingertips causing a shiver to race down his spine. He moves his fingers down, brushing them lightly along the line of her jaw, watching her move her head from one side to the next as his fingers graze over her skin. He moves them down over the smooth skin of her neck, her head lifting in response to his touch as it moves further down, noticing how her slender fingers seem to grasp at the rug, chest heaving now, her bosom rising and falling rapidly within the confines of her bra.
He places his arm down, resting his weight on it, head tilting now to the side as he moves his fingers further down along their chartered course. They ghost over the skin of her collar bone moving first to one shoulder then the next before returning. He swallows once more before moving them further down. His fingers brushing down between her breasts, fingers barely touching the skin; she whimpers softly, almost pleadingly but he will not give in to his raging desires to do more. No, this is not the time to be ravaging her….this is a time to make her see just how much he appreciates every inch of her…he wants her to see that every inch of her is important to him. He draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, soothing the raging war slightly. He comes into contact with the soft, smooth skin of her stomach. His fingers dance across the skin, smiling when a soft, short giggle escapes her as his fingers brush over the sensitive skin at her side and then bites back a growl when she moans and arches slightly when his fingers brush over the skin just above the top of her underwear. Her back arches once more when he circles his fingers around her navel, his eyes now locking on her face as he watches the expressions that flood her features, smiling slightly when he sees the flush in her cheeks. Her eyes open and they lock with his and a louder moan escapes her as his fingers move down between her legs, the heat causing a soft groan to slip past his lips but he forces himself to remain calm. His fingers run down along the hot skin of her inner thigh until they cannot move along any further without him moving. He shift his body between her legs, his own chest beginning to heave at the new angle and view point of her, watching her as she bites her bottom lip and it makes him smile once more. 
Now he has both hands available and he puts them to use. He moves his fingers along the skin of her legs, down over her knees, fingers circling the small slightly protruding bones of her ankles, ghosting along the curves of her feet to the tip of her toes and then moving back up along her legs. Her hands grip the rug firmly, her soft moans more frequent and her eyes are glazed over…not with lust but something else…something resembling a more…euphoric state. His lips and his tongue ache to taste her skin, to drink her in. He moves up and leans down planting soft, slow, open-mouthed kisses in a line up along her stomach, the action pulling a gasp from her, causing her back to arch her further into the kisses. His tongue flicks out and circles her navel before moving further up along the stomach. He moves between her breasts, every inch of willpower being put into play now not to grope or touch them in any manner. His lips move up and towards the right side of her neck. Her head falls to the left giving him the access he desires. Soft kisses are placed up her neck, his hot breath brushing over her ear, causing her body to shudder beneath him and an eruption of goose bumps to cover her skin. His lips move down and across, soft, wet kisses left in a trail over her throat and her head moves to the right, his lips moving along the skin of her neck, hot breath brushing across her ear again, a moan escaping her, back arching once more. 
He kisses his way up and along her jawline before moving his lips over the features of her face: Eyes, cheeks, nose, temples, forehead….everywhere but her lips. He knows it is an act of teasing that is torture to them both but right now it is all about touching, tasting, loving every inch of her without doing anything more than that. 
His eyes open and he sits forward in his chair, chest heaving already and a growl of frustration rumbling in his chest. He runs a hand through his hair and downs his drink cursing himself for letting his mind run away like that. He gets up, switches off the music and storms out of his room, heading downstairs to get another drink.

The Woman and The Devil
The Woman and The DevilCollapse )

Sitting in the darkened corner of her room, her body rocking back and forth, the voices seeming to grow louder, hands tugging at her hair as she screams for them to stop; why was she being punished? Did she really need to ask that? She should have known she could not save her damned soul once the Devil's dark, poisonous claws had sunk into it. Now, here she was a screaming mess, a discarded human, pushed aside and buried away from society. She was not wanted, she was not needed. She was forgotten and the only things to keep her company were the thunderous voices she wished would go away. 
She had been a normal girl, a girl who had dreams, desires, and great ideas of where her life would be in a few years time. But every one has their darkest desires that they dare not utter. Everyone has that one thing they crave more than anything else and they would do anything to gain it but many turn away from that. Something that you crave so much can never be good. After all, too much of a good thing can turn into a dark, twisted tragedy. She knew that, many times she shied away from it. But the more her mind became consumed with this one desire, the more she seemed to be pulled into it. And what was her darkest, deepest desire you may ask? Well she was an average girl, average in every way. She craved to be more than average, she wanted to be exquisite in her beauty, exquisite in her job, exquisite to all those she met. It consumed her every thought, every waking moment and then every moment that she slept; her dreams would be invaded with all the possibilities that could come with such an exquisite lifestyle. And the Devil had been watching her. 
The Devil picked up on the sweet, intoxicating taste of her cravings. The more she craved it, the sweeter it began to taste. With a sinister smile on his lips he knew it would only be a matter of time before she came looking for him, seeking him out to help her get what she wanted. Yes there were a few nights when he howled like an angered wolf when she sought the help of God. They always turned to Him. He could not give her what she craved the most; but the Devil could. Soon her prayers to Him faded away and the Devil moved in. Slinking through the shadows of her room while she slept, the Devil would perch himself beside her, lean his sick and poisoned lips to her ear and in the softest of whispers he'd poison her thoughts. He'd make her come to him; he'd make her seek him out. Sickly sweet is the temptation that rolls off the Devil's forked tongue. Who could resist such temptation, especially when temptation revolved around what you craved the most in life. 
She did it. She went in search of the Devil. The more she sought him out, the darker her life became and she reveled in it. Soon she was ready to kneel before his altar, she took her place, she looked into the shadows, hesitant for only a moment before the soft words left her now tainted lips: 'I nail my soul to the Devil's altar in exchange for the exquisite life I crave to have. I crave the beauty, the power and everything that goes with such an extraordinary life. I'm tired of being a simple, average human. Help me. Please.' She had sealed her fate with those words and the Devil danced about in them, a sinister smile on his face. He rubbed his clawed hands together as he worked the plan into action for such a desire. Oh he just knew this was going to be so good, and her soul would taste so sweet when it was devoured. 
She got her wish; she got her beauty, her power. She reveled in it all, enjoyed it to the fullest, a beauty that was flawless, a career where she could do no wrong, a circle of friends many would kill to be a part of.  Oh what a life she had indeed and nothing could spoil that she was certain. So foolish, as are all humans; the Devil gave her the life she wanted, but it was on his terms. She had it for a few years but now it was time to collect what he wanted, her dark, damaged, twisted soul that was nailed to his altar. 
The whispers began and at first she shrugged it off, believed it to be her own over active imagination. But soon came the feeling of someone else being with her wherever she went, a constant presence in her life hanging over her like a thick, black cloud, slowly consuming her. The whispers became more frequent and then began to rise in volume. The whispers lead to the paranoid feeling that she was being watched and then that's when she started seeing them. Shadows at first, skittering around in the dark corners of her room, blurring past her when she was with friends or in some important meeting. She was losing it; she was so sure of it. She tried to calm down, tried to see reasoning in this sudden madness that had taken over her life. But it was no use; there was no reasoning with such evil. There was no way to ignore it. The more she tried the more she made the games the Devil was playing with her entertaining. He sent his little minions to wreak havoc on her thoughts, to send shivers down her spine when they would manifest for a split second before her eyes and then disappear once more. 
The Devil had his claws in her already, he could almost feel them sinking deeper into her soul, could almost taste the sweetness of her fear as it seeped out of her skin. He had her where he wanted her now. She had been driven mad. She had herself locked away in her apartment. She sat in the corner holding a cross, rocking back and forth, back and forth, over and over again, whispering pleas and begging for help from Him. The Devil could not help but laugh and it was now he would make his presence known: 'He can't save you now'. His demonic voiced snaked into her ears and her eyes widened at the sound, her heart pounding and the sweat trickling down her temples, eyes brimmed with tears of fear, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to fight back the fear and the tears. Her breathing hitched and she drew in a staggered breath. 'Pray all you want. He's turned His back on you. You wanted your exquisite life. Now I've come to take what is mine'
She screamed, a blood curdling scream passing her chapped lips and the tears spilled down her cheeks. The Devil, well of course he laughed and reveled in the sound of her screams. It was pure music to his ears, it even sent a shiver through his demonic form; but he wasn't done with her yet. Oh no, the Devil had a lot more in store for this little one.  The voices grew in volume, became thunderous and booming. The demons were more apparent now as they wreaked havoc on her eyes, flashing before them, making her cry out in fear and then of course they began their physical assaults. Her arms were gnawed on, claws raked down her back, bruises covered her body as she was lifted from the ground and thrown around the room. She was no longer safe, she couldn't hide from them and there was no way to hide from the Devil himself. 
Soon they came; people from the institute. They strapped her up so she 'couldn't harm herself'. She protested against their invasion.  She screamed out that the demons had got her, that Satan himself was here to claim her soul and her eyes widened when the large demonic form that belonged to the Prince of Lies manifested before her: You keep on screaming my sweet. They won't believe you. Another shattering scream escaped her lips and she began to wrench and tug, trying to break free from her captives but the more she struggled, the stronger they became and the louder the dark, evil laugh grew. The Devil enjoyed this immensely. 
But soon the Devil grew tired of his games and she grew to realize that there was no escaping it. With a sharp blade she managed to sneak into her cell after dinner that night, she ended her life; a long, slow slice to the throat, her eyes closing and a smile on her lips as the pain seared through her and her life began to drain away. She knew where she was going, but she had already had a taste of that in her mortal life. She welcomed it with open arms, embraced it like a mother would a child as the room grew dark and her mangled soul was thrown into the depths of Hell.

Only The Best For Her
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Only the best for her,
Only the best. 
Black lace and silk caress her body,
Black stockings to go with the perfect shoes that adorn her precious feet,
Only the best for her,
Only the best. 

Her raven black hair is dried and brushed,
Made to lay perfectly around the her face,
Her beauty seeming to radiate as it is embraced by the raven black curtains of her locks. 
Only the best for her, 
Only the best. 

Careful now,
Everything must be perfect. 
Her favourite colours are picked out,
Set neatly,
Black,the deepest reds,
A touch of blue and a spot of purple.
Mix them together,
Blend them well,
Make sure the perfect colours arise to make her features radiate and glow. 
Only the best for her,
Only the best. 

The slight rouge is applied first to the milky tones of her cheeks,
Followed closely by a blend of blues,blacks and purples,
Mixing and blending,
Shading and smudging,
Achieving the perfect look. 
A deep, ruby red is chosen for those plush lips, 
Apply it, 
Careful now,
There we are,
Perfection achieved. 
Only the best for her, 
Only the best. 

The jewelry is next, 
Make sure it's what she always wears. 
A ruby pendant placed on a delicate black choker.
Place it around her neck,
That's it. 
She's ready now. 

Friends and family have gathered here today,
Gathered to see her. 
Today everyone shares her love for the colour black, 
Today everyone is dressed in the colour she found such comfort in. 
Today, it's all about her,
Today everyone is here to pay attention to her. 
Oh, how peaceful she looks, 
Nestled between the dark silk interior if her coffin,
Her final resting place. 
Today everyone is here for her,
Everyone is looking at her,
Through the tears of sadness, 
There is love in those eyes,
Through the moans and whimpers of loss,
There is regret in those voices. 

A little too late to show they care, 
A little too late to pay attention to her, 
A little too late to express their love for her,
When she was alive is when she needed it most.
When she was alive she wanted to hear those words of acceptance, 
She wanted to know she was loved for who she was.
They only ever wanted the best for her, 
Only the best. 

Their best pushed her away, 
Their best drove her into her depression. 
Their best meant she had to change,
She didn't want to change for them, 
She wanted them to change their outlook on her. 
She needed them to accept her the way she was.
She wanted 'their best' to adapt to her,
To embrace her. 

Too late now,
Too late to whisper 'I'm sorry',
Too late to cry out 'I miss you!' 
Too late to scream and break down.
With the silver blade,
She took her life. 
Oh, how beautiful the ruby red drops of blood looked,
As they enveloped the silver blade. 
She died with a mixture of happiness and sadness. 
Only the best for her,
Only the best.


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