Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Hysteria of Tchaikovsky

A Memo from the Desk Of Rebecca Gailen - Sr. Operations Manager

Hello my dearest Aurora,

I have watched you for hours, I know your face by heart, your twinkling eyes, subtle smile and your enchanting laugh. You and all of your wicked charms excite me, entice me and make me…want…

They all pretend to be you now, starving for my attention they mock your regalia and are easily destroyed in your defense. Their tears become the water of life for you to drink at your leisure.

Ah the yearning of a place of warmth within your embrace. Within the solace of your eyes. He looks at you now. The other looks upon you fondly, behind the text of muted words and stolen thoughts. He wants you as I do, we are brothers in that regard, linked by a shared rising of hope. Will-less to your whims we sway within your breath, within the curve of your supple body begging for the smallest brush of fate to push us together.

The fates, I have learned are cruel innuendos for retribution, revenge and jealousy. You were marked by them long before my soul reached for you and now I am forced to endure their demands. They have suffered and therefore you must suffer.

You must scream, weep, beg and collapse motionless into oblivion before they will be satisfied and even then the hatred will only hibernate for so long. The demands of the damned are never ending as is the self imposed nightmare they endure.

You see, your suffering gives them hope, lifting them out of the blackened pit they have thrown themselves in. Only you can save them, Rebecca. Only your spilt blood can lift them out of the blackness completely.

In this is my drive, my plight and I know if you knew the truth you would offer yourself up willingly, cut through your own skin to lessen the tortured of another. Alas it is not to be an easy cause and thus you are made to suffer as the damned.

I stand here now, once again covered in the sacrifice of the wicked. Anticipating your gasping horror like a erected cock being stroked by a glove of sand. It is torturous and yet highly delightful in its ability to confuse the senses and turn the pain into pleasure. Building until expulsion and lustful gratification.

I am a shadow in the light of your sun Aurora and I will bask in the glory of your glowing seraphic body until the end of days.

Your worshiping minion.

Author Amy Romine writing from the desk of Rebecca Gailen the Heroine of Serenity Lost - Trust Me Book 1. Want more info? Go to

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