The cellar steps reached below into consuming chthonic darkness. The air cloisters in my lungs, musty and old like stale breath.
My feet tell me I should go back, but I don’t because they are no longer master.
The darkness calls a cypher to my brain that only I can understand. Human fear is weak in me. This body is too frail and this soul too lacklustre to support me any more. A replacement is due.
Sweat clings to the walls, sprayed back into the atmosphere by the heavy bass line and too hard sound. These are the places where I find the best ones. Their spirits are invigorated by the noise and the close contact with their opposites.
I circle the dance floor, sinking hungry eyes into the backs of skulls, waiting to find the perfect suitor. It doesn’t take long. The sway of the dancers’ rippling bodies parts.
And there she is.
Supple skin glints beneath the glitter of the lamp, her body carried in a slow motion trance of spraying hair and exulting limbs. Her eyes are shut. All she can feel is the music moving through her.
For a moment, I consider making her the deal, but I know she won’t take it. There is too much white hot fire in her. It’s a shame, for she is the prettiest creature I’ve seen.
Late into the night she will scream the name of my true soul and bear the fruit of the all-powerful.
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