Nightmares of Forbidden Desire

Prose From: Angels of Death and Mercy. Deep dread, in jungle dark... it comes.

 

 

The Dream

Lost Sonatas: Nightmares of Forbidden Desire...

A dream, only a dream… the writhing sleep, in rising steam. Seeps through walls and the oh so tight, weave. Of glimmering gauze. The surrounds, in and around my bed. Around it’s head. The continual hum, of tiny wings. Tiny wings, like some small angels... bring. Their tiny bulbs of swimming bobbling, and dancing light. Others... only, sweetly sing. Some, make small sucking noise, with clinging daggers. As they move like quicksilver, on the under side of the floor. Before, they sting! Still air turns tepid, moving. Not at all. Dripping runlets, down under my breasts. With fear. That I know, will come. As always does, in this dreams theme. I will moan in trepidation, its coming. Coming, saying over and over. It’s only a dream. A horrid misdirected light source and hoary floating mist, snakes through. Barely above rain forests floor, its whorl, of muted transparent shades.

Coming for me, in whispers…

"I know, what you are. I know what you can be and as, I.

Well know! What you will make.

Of your final deeds, decree..."

I shiver, knowing now it comes, follows my scent. The sly whispers of their sleek seeker messengers, that entertain the night. I dare to peek, by very small corners of burning eyes. Like hot coal. To stare through gossamer and running tears, by narrow slats. That cannot guard my door, nor are their windows. In this place, that hides. Beside, this dense dark jungle. With only but the one path. Soon, must panic run. Its twisted course. With jaguar cries. In the some where’s, nearly by. Of the other further places, the deep moaning wails. Where the feathered mask, says; I must arrive. Then, flying above that path, straining. To have not go. Only, to be carried faster. With my increase, heart beats. Its looming doom. In the midst of that room, forbidding fortunes foretell... whisper. Teased release. Ruinations fertile cursed seed, its need. They feed...

It’s only a dream, it’s only a dream.

I scream, and scream and... scream!

I wriggle and writhe to free my self. From invisible constraints, that bind, my nakedness.

More leaked sweat, to tickle down, the insides of my thighs. It, has started. The whispers, grow stronger, "I, know what you are. I know, what you will be. I know how it feels... to have made thee!" The lesser ones, who know more! Oh why, does this dream not change? Where, is the relief, from this nightmare? How do 'you', know what, I am? Why, do they fetch, the feathered mask... and what of the pale cold demon, that would hide. Behind the beauty of a thing? When I know, only ugliness and mortal death. Lay beneath. Just what faille hole, doth this beast retire to, during the daylight season? And, the teeming endless wheel of questions, and never... any answers. I only know, that somehow. I must escape this dream! That flails my desire, bare to the bone. How very horrible...

Their brutal suckling... need.

Using my essence, till I whither as the jungle flower spent. No longer to catch, the first, of the morning's dew. Its shape so startlingly familiar. Its entrance, to the natural gift within. That graceful sleeve. Again, these thoughts bring only, quickening. The feared vision. In the small whisper of my breast. Knowing, just what will arrive. My breath being sucked, from my heaving chest. The sweat, on the roots of my lair. The moving mound, that cannot be contained required, "we know how it is, we know how it moves!" The mask is closer now, and I hear it rustling wide leaves, as it moves silent footsteps... out of the jungle. Toward a red door, to a place, that has no windows and the feathered demon. Will present, his mask. Whilst whistle, his eerie warble and this demon Jackal.

Possess the raw power; of my eternal passions flow.

The music of the dark jungle, has begun. The something whispers submission, inside my gossamer cloak. My bastion, my shroud. Last shred, of my remembered purity. The rhythm of the drums hypnotic, and the vibration, moves through my hips, my lips. It wills me. To leave, my bed. "Come, to the door. Leave this place, this your hidden false safety. Come... come with us. Into the wilds. It’s only a dream, only a dream. I know, what you may need, Come with us...

And feed!".

The longer whispers... I, that fuel that greed.

         ... Many are the voices, in and of, the now fettered choices...

            My

              Feathered mask. Sounds of my jungle.

                            The eye of a Jackal slain,

  oh interlude

            of

      my dream.

                  I, the Midnight Black, prowling Panther.

                        Yevette... To Become, a Vampire?

       'Prevail'. The sterling truth, it rings... 'an Avenging Angel sings'!

            To awake, veiled like gossamer. Never knowing, its end...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All is never as it seems

"Who's out there?"

She whisper

into the

Dark

Reviews

[Muse]

I love how you combined the art of poetry and dark story telling.
"Using my essence, till I whither as the jungle flower spent." Every now and then I'll read a line that makes me green with envy, because I wish it was "I" that wrote it. What makes this all the more brilliant, is how the macabre environment you created is still somehow romantic.

The music of the dark jungle, has begun. The something whispers submission, inside my gossamer cloak. My bastion, my shroud. Last shred, of my remembered purity. The rhythm of the drums hypnotic, and the vibration, moves through my hips, my lips. It wills me. To leave, my bed. "Come, to the door. Leave this place, this your hidden false safety. Come... come with us. Into the wilds. It’s only a dream, only a dream. I know, what you may need, Come with us...

And feed!".

It almost sounds like the call of the succubus. Maybe that's why I could relate to it so well. These demons toyed with me during adolescence. Was my experience Vampiric? No. But I still felt the temptation to cross over....

[Rory CJ Frankson]

Thank you muse... it was very much experimental and the character Yevette is very sensual, very much desired by Adam Strand for her possessions. To turn her to his bride, as he is a Demon and the first to escape the Void in the time of Caligula of Roman Times. This an excerpt fro the novel series 'Destinies Children'. I do as well relate to you reference to The Succubus, as if her dark side would surface it would be exactly what would possess her. Again, thank you for your excellent review.

[carol burgess romance]

Holding my breath in fear and anticipation.......what a great, twisted peice of art....so well wrtten will leave the reader coming back for more

[Corset]

Very Poe like in it's essence, a bit of old tongue peeping out now and again 'round dark corners , as if Shakespeare thought to stop in for a spot of black tea. Vampires and things that go bump in the night, sends chills up the spine, excellent penmanship. Thank you for sharing it with me, I enjoyed.

[poetry-kiddo alienbaba]

Hello our entrepreneur:)

[sharonlee]

Mesmerizing and vivid... I lost all sense of time reading this.

Memorable write Rory.

Peace and Love

[Rory CJ Frankson]

Thank you Sharonlee... its a part of the 'Destinies Children' series.

[realmwriter]

It certainly does from my perspective. It conveys a since of chaos as well. The flow is spot on and lends to the heavy since of dread and foreboding. I find it very much like a certain work by a one Mr. Edgar Allen Poe, I'm sure I need not mention the title here. Great job my friend...!

[Linear]

A dream, i think not.
A nightmare yes indeed, with certain flow it carried me along, to a dreamscape i had not known.

And the picture you chose well enhanced the poetic story.
EXCELLENT

[SM Davis]

Of the other further places, the deep moaning wails. Where the feathered mask, says; I must arrive. Then, flying above that path, straining. To have not go. Only, to be carried faster. With my increase, heart beats. Its looming doom. In the midst of that room, forbidding fortunes foretell... whisper.

This reminds me of the lesser traveled areas of New Orleans. Where dark spells are ingested like buttery mignon...chased with spanish Rioja. Again, a read worthy of the classic tales.

[Diamondjules]

THAT WAS SOME POWERFULL STUFF THAT I CAN RELATE TO! I still have odd dreams myself - every night - that lastest ones have me so that I am paralized on side. Don't know what to make of those.
Awesome writing my new friend...