Tag Archives: Family

Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Spencer Stanhope

Crimson Queen

Satan; Adversary,
Lucifer; Morning Star,
but She was Older much Older.
Older Than the Castrating Cult
of the Great Mother;
Cybele,
She Was the Oldest
& Greatest of Gods,
She Was Eros;
Desire,
the Crimson Queen.
& We,
my Family & I
Have Served Her
Since Man
First Crawled From the Wild.
We Who Have Suckled From Her Tit.
Who Have Known Her
As Pandora
& Again
As Eve.
We Were There
When the Walls of Troy Fell
& Again
When We Pierced the White Gods Side.
We Are the Ones
Said to Wear the Mark;
the Mark of Cain;
the Spear
& to This Day
We Are Still Known
As the Sons of the Dragon.
Yes,
Even He
of the Impaling Fist
Served Her;
Her
Blood Red Bliss.
She Who Came to Us
When the Moon Was Swollen,
Swollen With Sin
& Desire
Desire
Like Fire.
a Fire to Sear your Soul
& Strip your Sanity.
Bacchanalian Rites
of the Blackest Kind,
Orgies
of Mutilation & Murder.
She Would Stroll Through
Some Times Stopping
to Touch a Subjects Head.
As Her Worshippers
Offered Up Their Bloody Sacrifices;
Dripping Mangled Manhood.
Blood Wine
Heaped With Herbs
of the Darkest Sort,
Flesh of the Fallen;
Man,
Beast,
or Child;
Was the Feast We Had.
Screams of Agony & Ecstasy
In the Torch Light,
the Scarlet Flames Illuminating
Hellish Flickering Scenes
of Satanic Night.
She Covered In the Blood of the Devout,
Licking Her Fingers
Bouncing About
All Eyes & Thighs,
Tits & Ass.
Tonight I Was to Receive my Birth Right.
Ouroboros; the Snake Circle,
So Driven by Desire
It Eats Its Own Tail;
to Take the Place of my Father,
I the Oldest Surviving Son In an UnBroken Line
Since Life Began.
I to Sit Upon Her Left Side
& He
to Cross Over
& Serve Her In Her Own Land;
Hand Picked Children
In the Image
of Lillith.
#B27321

https://theprose.com/post/147052/crimson-queen

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Ink&Iron Heroic Fantasy

Howard Pyle

Howard Pyle

What Had
Happened To me 

I Had Never Been to a Séance Before.
Strange Things

Were Going On In This House.
I Had to Admit

If Any Place Had a Right to Be Haunted
It Was This One.
They Said the Foundations Were Pre Roman,
Old as the Stones,
the Story Goes.
Dreams of the Screams,
Those That Died Here by Flame, Plague, & Torture;
Haunt my Sleep.
The Dark Man,
All Ways In the Back;
All Ways.
Like Puppets In a Play
& He Holding the Strings.
They Started to Weave
These Dreams

Into my Waking World.
I Had to Get Some Sleep,
Some Release.
So I Took It Up With the Proprietor,
the Count;
a Family Friend.
His Haunted Hollow Eyes
Saying Much More to me
Than we Shall See
What This Meet Brings.
It Was I,
the Count & Two Gentlemen.
One a Learned Doctor of Court,
No Stranger to the Bizarre,
The Other a Professor of History
& the Occult Sciences;
He Would Be Leading Us
Through This Strange Ceremony.
No Sooner Had we Began our Introductions
Over Brandy & Cigars,
Then a Manifestation Became Evident.
A Globe of Brilliant Light
to Turn the Night to Day
& Say your Payment Is Due,
Entered the Room.
The Count Pointed to me
& Said you May Have Him.
For 13 Months
I Know Not What I Do,
Till They Pulled me From the River;
Ran Through.
6 Months In a Hospital Half the World a Way,
Tomorrow Is the Day;
the Count Explains. 

Taken From
the Private
Journals
of #B27321
Last Son
of a
Fallen Line  

https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1340827-monthly-short-fiction-contest—win-a-50-amazon-gift-card-or-paypal-pri?comment=141953921&page=5#comment_141953921

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