Coup de Grâce (Death Blow)
To understand this piece and my writing diversity, please read PHANTASMA as the prelude.
The Rogue has been let out to roam the wastelands searching for the souls of the damned, the unpleasant and the devious rancid cunts who would unleash their own horrors on the living beautiful souls of our time.
Dare to trod here, oh I invite you in but don’t you even think a moment that you will leave here alive.
Mephistopheles has released me , the Rogue, from his Playground of hell and as I am Famished I Shall feast upon thy retched souls of the four-flushers of the existent plague of nauseating interlopers to the darkness which is my repository of equanimity.
As I roam in the gloaming I oscillate from an imaginary central line of travel to a region that presents a vexatious fetor. I am a degree of horridness and to the odium of the living I care not. I advance through shadows and rove the night in search of my quarry.
Off in the breadth of wood lot I can discern the footfalls of one such quiddity. They sound as though they are overwrought with trepidation. I salivate in this moment and take in the air around me, feeling it bolster my yearning for the brawn I sustain from that of human flesh.
But this night it is not this particular immortal creature that I covet. This is one who trails after the being on the sprint through my terra firma, oh she thinks she is slick, believes she can outmaneuver all who traverse his beaten path. Ha, she’s not ever met the likes of a predator such as I.
I move stealth in the night’s darkness and refashion my semblance to suite my environs fittingly. This immortal would be misguided to believe otherwise.
I am headed north with the slightest breeze dusting across my skin.
The aroma of this immortal female, reaper of the light that dwells within; her prey has been left reeling backwards, the fear flows straight into my nasal cavity and fills me with an illicit craving that will not be able to restrain.
Oh don’t you think me a timid entity for I am not.
I am iniquity and turpitude.
I am unsightly and reprehensible.
I am the Fiend who stalks you in the night and lacerates your vital organs from their sheathed coverings and I shall devour them with my razor-sharp jaws of death.
I know my duties and I am yet so very different from the rest.
I search for the decay of inhumanity, those who would be looked upon in disgust on this earth.
I sit high crouched upon a thick branch of a hundred year old willow tree, concealed in darkness. I know what I shall do to her as I have not fed in weeks and I possess a need that cannot be reformed.
Her arrogance has led her straight in to into my domain and now she must pay.
My eyes blacken, pure hatred scorches my insides .
Detestation rises within my core and I writhe in vexation.
I’m not certain how long I can contain my inner revulsion;
I so detest this one.
I long for release.
This one will pay most of all.
She’s lost site of the prey she hunts and I am tracking her movements. She’s become discombobulated in the pinewood and has lost all direction. Now, there she stands under my perched local.
I vault from my setting landing directly in her pathway. She leaps back and topples to the earth beneath her landing on her back. I assume a crouching position and loom over her as a colossus fiend with gaping jaws of steel and terror. She squeals like a swine impaled in a barbed wire fence.
This only fortifies my feverish desideratum for the kill. I move in close breathing her perspiring flesh; feeling her fear. She is light-skinned and has blackened hair that sits as a soaked mop atop her head. Her broad shoulders rather manly in stature are no match to my beastly form. She tries to move but I pin her shoulders down to the earth and bare my oral blades of fierce flesh piercing steel. She squeezes her ocular orbs tight as not to see me.
I make an aggressive growl with bared teeth and drip my mouth secretions on her lips. She grimaces and turns her head allowing me to make a quick morsel out of her ear. It goes down my gullet with ease. I roll my neck in elation. She is screaming and it is singing to my inner core.
I dig my unguis into his shoulder flesh and wrench it from him with attached muscle and veins. As I lick it from my palm it feels warm and tastes of red wine vinegar. I crave more as I run my digits down her rancid chest and stop at her abdomen. She quivers in fear and I arch my back to the night sky baring all my hand spurs and bring them down with force thrusting into her flesh and ripping her open like a side of beef, her intestines spilling to the earth as mound of plated pasta housing the thickest red sauce one has ever laid eyes on.
Her screaming ceases but she still lives, I drink her blood straight from the gaping hole I’ve just made, bathing my entire face in it. It is warm and sticky and sickly good. Her moans are like an internal volcanic eruption of euphoria to my very core. As my final finishing affliction I seize both the superior and nether wedges of fowe lie-spuing jaw and tear her countenance from its station revealing the encephalon salient to my dark orbs.
I lift it to my ingress, lick it with carnality and then devour it’s entirety.
This one is finished, this rancid cunt who thought she could walk these grounds and lay claim to them.
I am called home to Mephistopheles Playground to lay hold until I am unleashed once more into the night.
Fear not mere mortals. I shall requite amongst the living once or thrice more should any more come to this place and try to stake a claim here.