Posted by Clemstra on April 18, 2005 at 20:25:43:
The below story I leave to the reader to decide if the woman is insane or sane. Is she really what she thinks and does it really follow as she describes OR is she insane, violent when attacked and perhaps with her own drink she gives the criminal, slips in LSD and drives him insane as well?
I leave it to the reader to decide, is the story fully real, or the view of an insane woman.
I smile and laugh with all the others. Just another person, an ordinary woman. But in my mind a voice laughs an icy voice, cold and clear in my mind.
"Neither Ordinary, nor human," HE mocks
With friends at the bar, we drink, we laugh, company, companionship. I want to be normal, part of the herd, not alone, an outsider.
Laughter in my mind. He sees through my eyes, hears through my ears. I in turn can see his world, his life. I can't break the contact, neither can he. We can't predict when the mind joining will come about....but I suspect he has learned to initiate it.
"Your not like those men and women, stop pretending," he sneers.
We leave, a dark parking lot. I pretend to non existent weakness'. In fact the dark is as easy to see in as the day for me. I open the unlocked car door, seat myself, buckle up, start the car.
In the back seat a pair of eyes, a man hidden. He puts a knife to my throat. "Drive where I want you to, as I want you to bitch," he threatens with the knife.
"Please" I beg him.
He laughs thinking he has terrorized me. The one whose mind is linked to mine also laughs.
I don't want to hurt anyone, "Please" I beg again. The man laughs, the OTHER laughs, I want to cry. It will happen again.
"Go ahead, you know you want to destroy him, rip him, tear him, obliterate him."
"NO," I think back. But there is a part of me that wants to do just that. He isn't good, he isn't innocent. How many others has this man with the knife hurt? A part of me wants to obliterate him from the earth, obliterate all the evil from the earth. The Anti Christ may well be a man, but THE BEAST is a woman. Not a bad woman, a woman who cares, who doesn't want to see innocent people hurt. But evil people just keep pushing, and harming.
"Let Heaven forgive, it is NOT the function of our kind," the voice urges me. I see the landscape, frozen ice peaks, snow, slush rivers, a small dwarf blue sun barely illuminating the sky. HE is there, looking down on the land from his great hold.
"The ONLY way they will learn, make them eat their own filth. Like a dog whose nose must be rubbed in their own filth, do so to the evil among humanity. It's the ONLY way, you know it is."
"Nooo," I sob.
"Oh your going to scream and cry more then that cunt," says the man in the back. But a part of me now no longer views him as human. Why should I? He doesn't view his victims as human, why should I give him anything more then he would give his victims?
I accelerate the car, throwing him forward. His wrist holding the knife is thrown forward, giving me the space to attack.
"SHiiiit" he screams as I bite a huge chunk from his wrist and hand.
"I'll kill you bitch," he says even while starting to realize he is losing blood rapidly.
A part of me doesn't want him to loose consciousness or die. Not because I care, because I WANT to make him pay. Want to hurt him as he hurt others.
I pull off into a darkened field and open the door.
"Shit bitch you've killed me," he says starting to suffer from blood loss.
"Don't worry," I tell him. "I won't let you die this way."
He thinks I'll call an ambulance, he'll wake up in a prison hospital. I start to dress his wound, stop the bleeding as he blacks out.
"Ahh, at last. It's about time you did what was natural for you my dear."
"Their not all like this," I think back to HIM.
"True, but for those that are....."
He awakens to find himself in that dark field.
"Here," I tell him. "Drink this, it will give you strength and energy."
He drinks it quickly, a confused look in his eyes.
"The cries of your victims has told me your guilt," I tell him.
He looks at me, starting to be afraid. Crazy woman he thinks, he doesn't know the half of it.
"You thought you were a big man didn't you?"
"Look lady, it's not like that."
"Of course it is little prick. You can't get it up can you."
Tears in his eyes. "Bitch you don't speak to me that way."
"Oh but I do, maybe if your parents had spoken to you like that, made you'd accept your own faults instead of blaming them on others.....:
"You don't know my parents," he tries to stand, shaking with emotion.
"Then of course you raped your first victim, a little girl, not more then a baby. That made you a big man didn't it?"
"Bitch I'm going to hurt you," he stumbles, so I throw him a another vial of the solution, my own creation.
He opens and drinks quickly, good, he's getting stronger.
"I'm going to give you something you never gave your victims you pathetic turd. I'm going to give you a chance, one and only one chance."
Inside HE laughs, "giving him mercy....ahhhh, I see. It's always best to let them damn themselves fully." His icy laughter makes me want to join in. A part of me feels good now, he's right. This is what I am, what must be.
He looks stronger now. "Bitch you asked for this."
"ONE CHANCE," I tell him. I throw a phone to him.
"Call the police and turn yourself in, seek redemption."
He laughs, The OTHER laughs inside me, and I start to laugh.
He stops, looking again at what he thinks is a crazy woman.
"Bitch, crazy or not I have a knife." He pulls out the knife from his pocket where I put it for him.
"What is your choice?" I look at him calmly, below my calm is a boiling, a desire to rip, to tear...even that would be more merciful then what will occur if he makes the WRONG choice.
"Bitch, your going to die," he says throwing away the mobile phone given him.
"As you will."
He runs towards me with the knife drawn. In my mind the cries, the tears, the screams, the pain of all his victims coalesce and I throw it at him.
He screams, falls to the ground. He keeps screaming and screaming as he now lives through the memories, the experiences of all his victims. Everything he did to them he is now having done to him, at least as far as he can tell. To others looking on it would appear a man is screaming and thrashing about on the ground without reason.
He finally goes into darkness, for now, spittle leaking from his mouth. He will awaken. It will begin again, and again and again.....and when he dies it will only be the tip of what will be done to him in Hell.
"Excellent," my diabolic mind linked lover states.
I laugh, yes it was poetic justice after all. Yet even as a part of me takes joy, another part is saddened.
"They are not all like that you know."
"The good ones are not OUR concern though are they?"
"No," I think back. "The good ones are Heaven's."
Heaven is in the business of love, of forgiveness, of helping. Hell is not in the business of forgiving. Hell is in the business of punishment and rehabilitation by FORCING the evil to face their wrong, one way or the other.
I go to the thing humans call my home. I dream of the time I can REALLY go home. Where I will not be an outsider, where I can be again in HIS arms, his leathery wings enveloping me.
One day it will be over. Then I can finally go home. Soon, soon the restraints shall be lifted. I shall claw, slash and hurt....cry out in joy at the destruction of the wicked, and also cry in sorrow.
But then, go home.
I dream of home, a frozen plane, the 8th, with a dwarf blue sun setting. Myriads of rainbow hues reflecting on glaciers with the setting blue sun, as he strokes me with his clawed hands softly.
"Soon my love, soon," he whispers.
The Anti Christ may well be a man some day, but THE BEAST is a woman. She isn't an evil woman, though she isn't human either. She is doing what she is meant to do, alone and far from home. She really doesn't want to hurt people. Unless they MAKE her, the evil will always force the issue.
Please don't make her.