Hey there peeps. Haven't exactly touched this vile cesspool of the internet for awhile, and you are probably asking your nonexistent selves why. Have we offended you, great Martin? Should we sacrifice virgins to volcanoes? The answer is no and yes. Thou hast not offended me minions, I have just been busy with two HUGE assignments due Tomorrow DUN DUN DUUUUN T_T
(The answer to the second question should be self explanatory. Virgins by nature should be killed horribly. Then the whole world will be motivated to have sex and will evolve into a mass orgy)
Unfortunately, like the filthy whore of procrastinatoria that I am, I only found this out at 3 AM last night, and now have been rushing to churn out 4000 words of shit before the proverbial hammer drops. Goody. Anyways, if I fail this subject, ya'll can lol at me as I An Hero myself off a building. I'll try to aim for a gaggle of little kids first, don't worry.
Anyway, for the circus story, there's an interesting backstory. Once again, I waited till the last minute, busy watching lots and lots of hardcore Pr0n as I am prone to, I dolled out 1000 words of short story filler so bad that it would make your eyes vomit if I posted it up here. If you guys had eyes, or heads, or lives seperate to my psyche. However, in a startling display of brilliance, i told them that it was shit, and I was going to post a new one up before Friday, when we evaluate it. So far, I'm seven hundred words or so through. Its about two demons possessing two clowns, and debating the ethics of it.
So, without further adue, for your viewing pleasure, my soon-to-be finished short story. I'll put up the ending when I finish writing it.
- Evil-M
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Is There Sin? ‘Is there sin, and can we pay for it?’ asked Cheryl, as she sat in the purple armchair, looking across a small coffee table, at Chris. Both people were garbed in the outfits of performers, and they were. Colourful and dark, they were the freaks of the Carnivale Macabria. Cheryl herself, while otherwise beautiful, was adorned with a third eye on her forehead, which added an erotic and exotic allure to her otherwise pristine and elegant attire. She had black hair, and wore an evening gown, the very epitome of romantic goth. A thin stream of smoke poured like water from between her red, moist lips, and her eyes had a strange, reddish tint to it. ‘Can we escape from it?’ she asked patiently, punctuating each syllable with an ethereal, whispery signature in grey.
‘Why, Cheryl my dear,’ said Chris, taking a sip of Earl Grey from the table before them. ‘This is hell. Nor are we out of it. Think you that such as we, who have tasted the infinite joys of heaven, are not burdened by one thousand hells by being so deprived of them?’
‘Quoting Faust now? An appropriate, if melodramatic metaphor,’ she sighed. Chris cracked his knuckles, revealing his fingers were double jointed. He smiled at her. ‘Isn’t that why we came here? Nowhere else to go? Isn’t that the reason we spend every day entertaining these people, enjoying the light of our lord, Lightbringer, and comforting these people through the night? Is this not redemption enough?’ he asked, with a hint of irony. Cheryl shook her head slightly. ‘I don’t know. They would have us believe that we are victims of an angry God. I am not so sure. Why then do these people welcome us, with open arms? Why do they allow us the pleasure of their company?’
‘Possibly because of your womanly wiles,’ grinned Chris. ‘Just who on God’s green earth could say no to those eyes, or those lips?’ Cheryl just laughed, and took another long drag of smoke.
‘Look, perhaps there is no judge, or cosmic standard to judge our actions by. Perhaps this is a nessecary sacrifice. They were weak enough to welcome our presence. Perhaps, the universe’ sick way of weeding out the weak. After all, one must fall for another to succeed. Possibly, this could even be part of God’s divine plan. After all, what shepherds want a flock so weak it can be infested with parasites? What emperor would want traitors in his kingdom?’
Cheryl sighed. ‘But what if they are not part of a plan. We have just taken two sentient beings. Two lives, not-unlike our own. What are we then?’ she asked, looking down at her hands. There was a slight moment of weakness in her eyes.
‘Ah, but that is where you and I differ,’ said Chris, leaning forward and putting his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘Even if they are sentient beings, what have they done to earn those bodies? Have they endured an eternity of eternities of pain and torment, waiting to pass from the fire? Wondering, wondering what they did to deserve this fate? Wondering if the Lightbringer would ever unite all the Choirs of us, fighting, scheming and plotting in the flames and the darkness? Did they crawl from the foulest of all prisons, devouring those who opposed us, to perhaps bathe once more in his presence? Feel his light?’
‘Perhaps, they did,’ said Cheryl, getting up, with a look of pronounced irritation on her face. ‘ They too ran the gauntlet, against their potential brothers and sisters. They too ripped the top of their prison and basked free, they too won these bodies, fair and square. And for us to just take and eat them, and masquerade in their flesh is pure disrespect,’ she said, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘And I don’t think you comprehend truly, what we’ve done here.’
Chris stood up, allowing his coat to flop back into the chair. He walked up, and embraced her, which she first resisted, then fell into, quietly. ‘I just...don’t know what we have done.’
‘They are part of us now,’ said Chris, quietly. ‘Think of it in that light. They are part of something greater than they ever could have been. Is that not what all humans secretly wish for? Hell, is that not what all of us secretly desire? An end to this conflict, to escape into a quiet nirvana where we all can be as one? I know, I wish it with you. I wish never to part from this connection.
