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The Birth of Tragedy

Lips with a hint of cherry blossom, so innocent, pursed tightly in an upward camber. I’ve never wondered why her faint smile didn’t reach across her porcelain face. Any flicker of self was long lost to the malevolence that infiltrated her tiny soul – the dirty touching of the very hands intended to protect her. She looks down upon me now; a nameless reflection of my vile act. Her stained flaxen hair rests below her bloodied petite shoulders, a naked reminder of utter vulnerability. My hands are soiled, forever tainted with death.

My heart beats faster as darkness glides into the soulless core of my being bringing me back – back to the moment of transformation. I can smell the delightful terror as the powerful chanting pushes me forward to fulfill my calling. She is spread out there for me like a sacrificial lamb, tethered bare to the cold altar. All mine. A gift from the Masters of Darkness. Ceremonial dagger, like a birthright placed in my hand, sang to me its wicked cry. Crackling fire blazed brighter, stronger, hotter as children huddled in view behind trees. It was time. Familial voices prattling inside quieted to faint whimpers of little ones.

Ashen faces stared out from behind black hoods. Hands held out from beneath their robes as if to accept me anticipatorily. Eerie chanting filled the night air. Empowerment shot through my body. Her blue eyes met my vacant eyes. So young and precious. So tender. Did she know? Was she born for this? With a gentle guiding hand, one I hadn’t felt before, Master led my hand and dagger to her neck. “Just like you practiced,” he whispered. A drum beat in my throat. Numbness raced down my arm to my hand, as I carved a deep smile into her throat. The short shriek was drowned out. Gurgling and twitching, letting go of life. My throat pulsated with excitement at the sight of the flowing blood. I’d done it. I was one of them. Power was mine. Acceptance was mine. At least for now.

Splattered designs of Satan's marks traced upon her pale chest by eager fingertips. They lusted after her rich blood, teaching me to desire it too. With a strong hand guiding my head, my lips pressed firmly against her mutilated neck. Death of a youngster smells sweet. The young dead taste sweet......warm and salty.

Author notes

P a l o s z o o

43. "Once something dies you can't make it live." -- "Take It Easy (Love Nothing)" by Bright Eyes.

~We're only as sick as our secrets.

In a list

A contest entry

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Comments

1 - 16 of 16

  • Miss Macabre
    2 days ago
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    Edit | Reply
    Fucking awesome. This is what I love to read, a macabre story written with elegant imagery. Such an enjoyable read, this write holds my heart. Thanks for entering and best of luck to you.


  • Why so serious
    2 days ago
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    Edit | Reply
    my favorite one in final list till now~!
    i love it dear~!


  • Night Rose
    December 2
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    Edit | Reply

    Night Rose

    This is really great I definetly enjoyed reading this it kept my attention all through the end. Thanks for entering


    sincerly,
    angel


  • cassie-
    December 2
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    Edit | Reply

    Breath taking.

    I love it. The mood everything. Very well written. I'm adding you as a favorite. Beautiful poem.


  • St. Anarchy
    December 1
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    Edit | Reply

    I like your Darkness

    Unfortunately, there is too much to comment on, but luckily all good. You don't need to change the words, but changing the sentence structure of some lines may dispel the monotony that tries to creap in at the end


  • patchgirl
    November 30
    Edit | Reply
    Love it!
    I like the details


  • i vomit sunshine
    November 12

    Edit | Reply
    Holy fuck. This is exactly the sort of thing I love to read.
    Call me morid and sick, but hell, its life.
    Favorite part: "Ashen faces stared out from behind black hoods. Hands held out from beneath their robes as if to accept me anticipatorily. Eerie chanting filled the night air. Empowerment shot through my body. Her blue eyes met my vacant eyes. So young and precious. So tender. Did she know? Was she born for this? With a gentle guiding hand, one I hadn’t felt before, Master led my hand and dagger to her neck. “Just like you practiced,” he whispered. A drum beat in my throat. Numbness raced down my arm to my hand, as I carved a deep smile into her throat. The short shriek was drowned out. Gurgling and twitching, letting go of life. My throat pulsated with excitement at the sight of the flowing blood. I’d done it. I was one of them. Power was mine. Acceptance was mine. At least for now."

    You've made the finalists list. Congrats.

    Much Love,
    Abbey.


  • savemysoul
    November 11

    Edit | Reply
    wow, right after i read this twilight immediately popped in my mind. this was an insane write. i really liked how it differed than most my entries. thankks for entering.

    -- jordan.


  • Night Terrors
    November 10
    Edit | Reply
    ok fixed


  • LunaBaby1414
    November 10

    Edit | Reply
    thanks for entering my contest. i do like this one, "Splattered designs of Satan's marks traced upon her pale chest by eager fingertips. They lusted after her rich blood, teaching me to desire it too. With a strong hand guiding my head, my lips pressed firmly against her mutilated neck. Death of a youngster smells sweet. The young dead taste sweet......warm and salty." i love tis stanza
    lun


  • Night Terrors
    November 9

    Edit | Reply
    first stanza is really a powerful poetic statement i feel as if I am standing there looking over the sholder of this young woman. I like the flow that I am seeing so far it really adds a personal touch.

    WOW on the second stanza I am commenting as I read this And I got to say it is really mind blowing the evil feel that is resinating from every word. I wonderful testemate to all those that have revenge on their minds.

    Hmmm perhaps I was wrond in thinking thisd was really reveng so much as A claiming of power. It sounds like through this ritual theat she is gaining the power that others held over her head.

    hmm way to tell us how the death tastes and smells it makes the reader feel like they are the one with the blade in hand.

    I am adding this to the finalist list wonderful job


  • WednesdayJade
    November 2

    Edit | Reply
    Wow. It always takes me a while to figure out what to say when commenting on one of your poems because they're brilliant... and this is another brilliant write from you.
    What you had to do was terrible and it's amazing that you can write it down now. Quite an inspiration me thinks.
    The description is great, you've really painted the picture of what is happening and just reading it creeps me out and makes me tense up... and feel sick if I'm honest. Those people that made you do that... eurgh, I don't think there are enough words.
    Thank you so much for entering.
    x x x


  • Sheilasbabygal4life gold member
    October 31

    Edit | Reply
    This was a very long piece that you have written here. But I must admit this was very good. I enjoyed reading this. Thanks alot for entering and best of luck too you in the contest.


  • Fr33BirdFaLLin
    October 29
    Edit | Reply
    What a story! Truly a great write, thanks for entering and good luck.


  • A63-Angel
    October 28

    Edit | Reply
    wow, sis! this was amazing!! I wanted the story to go on and certainly hope there will be more parts to this. brilliant...left me on the edge of my seat waiting to see what else happens next. bravo!!!

1 - 16 of 16