Welcome to the mind of a Deviant soul

A Story that Stolen from Me

August 8, 2007 at 11:55 pm (Frustrations, Guys in my life, ME, Mr Right, Stories, Writing)

 An Unspoken Wish

July 28, 2007 

He wished for darkness, and longed for death. He was as shrouded in mystery in his reflection as he was crestfallen in his thoughts. Life had destroyed his positive demeanor, and punctured a deep hole within his soul pushing him down deep within a pit of hopelessness and despair. The whiteness of his youth only left him empty and lost as he yearned secretly for love and a caring touch, except he’ll never admit it.  The darkness was his playground, and misery and bitterness were his friends.  The shadows strangled him in a horrid embrace that only vampires and demons would truly enjoy. He endured for the monster within him and would fray from the human being that was made by battered flesh. His only inclination in that deprived world was that he wouldn’t be alone; he wanted someone to appreciate and benefit from the dark acceptance within him. Although he stood in the mist of all the darkness, there was a small candle of light. This candle was his stillness, tenderness, and the only insignificant relation to human beings he had. He wanted someone similar worshipping the cynicism and refracting the exuberance. He wanted someone who welcomed the demon within herself, and still held the qualities of the feminine performance. He had a few assertive girls and difficult women in his life, but one young woman stood out for an instant that brought out the sexual beast within him. She was unpretentious with her pasty manifestation in her dark attire. Her musky smell drove him wild like lion devouring his prey. He sought after her purely out of lust . . . love was very faded contemplation with in his mind as it was too complex for such an effortless point. He wanted to have some mysterious entertainment with a dame that impelled him, inanely animalistic.  He expressed the manners of the pessimism as she wasn’t as sinister in stance as he had desired. He tried to employ anguish, protectiveness, isolation, and apprehension to bring her closer to him as it only seem to repel her farther away with warped, lifeless attitudes for forever escalading into the pit of her own  loneliness. He struggled to be the tutor, to fashion a perceptive of him, but she departed him in perplexed desolation. She ruminated he sought for her to fall into dire agony, but he most wanted her to empathize the value of his blacken behavior. He pined for the true expressions to say that he might elucidate why he would cause himself woe, but he couldn’t obtain the accurate articulations to enlighten his delicate thought. As the storm carried the soul so had quicken time stole her away, and a bridge of immoral affection was broken rendering two afflicted edges to weep. After he was gone, she recognized that she had renounced her vivacity with the prince of darkness as she was too unsettled to welcome the inscrutability within herself. He illustrated channels of her, she had never envisioned before, and he truly was the professor of mystique. However, she’ll never obtain the likelihood to acknowledge him. Time washes away like shattered glass being subdued suave at high tide, for the twinkling of an eye she became aware of that he was reflecting of her. Impressions of him saturated her mentality as she mourned exceedingly for ever deserting him in the mist of her apprehension. Circumstances produced fate to intervene with such a jiffy that only a few years begot the two affronted characters in return to the dispirited connection. She acquired a novel exploration as he inquired about a line of reasoning not to give up his strength of mind. She conceded nothing was the parallel, and she would on no account be his for he has granted his vow to another. She accredited the established information with a raw disenchantment and a vanity she’ll always have well-hidden within her vast, disconsolate essence. Although he encountered another young-looking lady with ominous heart and a feminine performance who purloined his warmth, he still wasn’t contented. He deemed he had forsaken something that he only had from the lustful woman years ago. He comprehended that as he tried to elucidate her values of the mystique, he had to pursuit ideals within himself. He made himself feel expected and functional. Now that his appreciated scholar was vanished his psyche was insignificant, and he despised the reflection that the only phenomenon he could execute was in the fleshy tissue. He contemplated the notion how magnificent mortality would transpire he could accost his tedious acquaintances with a bitter embrace of deserting one Hell to transfer to another. No sooner did the inspiration process in his skull, did he puncture his skin with a sharp blade. Crimson liquid trickled down lingering flesh draining his liquid spirit as there is existence of life in the blood. He sliced a few more sections of fleshy tissue to provoke the darkness in as certainty of existence gradually began to dwindle. The shameless woman of his past looked intently with her delicate eyes on the horrid spectacle as her soul shrieked. She distinguished he was further than aid.  He was incurable mutilated, as the she held his dying body in her arms. She glanced into his wilting eyes to envision herself plummeting with him into the everlasting pit of shadowy, bitter Hell. Her lips fastened into his as she embraced his last breath with a chaotic lethal kiss.

His flesh collapsed flaccid in her volatile arms as raindrops descend from her blood stricken eyes. A flash of somber contemplation stroke her standpoint as just mortality encouraged another soul to follow the permanent curiosity. She positioned the bloody blade in her hand as she fatally chased her professor, comrade and admirer, and carved her subsistence out of the world. She observed the crimson liquid rush out of flesh as she welcomed the darkness’ complete acknowledgment.  She leisurely closed her eyes-all was dark. 

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