The Burning Banquet

For my death, as I had imagined it, there seemed to come an end. The darkness, which had extinguished every part of my longing for life. Would I not be seen as a savior of humankind, if as so, I had saved human kind from the descent into anarchy?. Other thoughts; of death, had surfaced so many times now compared to the short time in which it had occurred. How death must feel each time he took a life, and lingered when the body emptied into nothing but a shell, as hollow as before creation. Death must have laughed, and kept laughing for every time I had fallen into his arms, not weeping, but astonished to find that I was before him yet again. How he must have wept, to find out that he had yet again caught me out of this world, but in another. A world within this world, which was able to repeat itself again and again, where death usually was the only escape; just not for me, my above floating consciousness ever tormented by my own demise. 

The dermal cape of my body seemed unscathed by the previous events. Yet another proof, determining that I was beyond my body, inside an environment projecting the existence beyond what it was before into what it could be now. Instead the existence have denied the thought, thus the subconscious world is created. That I have read. I was lying down. Possible, explainable and logical. A stumble through the dark had in most probably circumstances put my ind a deep subconscious slumber. Soot and ashes filled my nostrils while I was consciously beginning to breathe. Before my mind ever could register the small particles clotting up my nose, the body convulsed in a great spasms forcing a cough over several feigning minutes. In my spasms, the the touch of skin on clothes felt different, lighter and cleaner. No light tickle of dead cells conjoined to the skin seemed to appear in my mind, first now registering the loss thereof. As I realised this a deep itching began all over, not from burning, but from something else, which probably was the loss of hair caused by severe burning.

I flailed my body up from the ground. The hands that touched the ground, did not touch what was floor, but rather that which had been floor at one time. Fingertips sensing the deep layers of soft snow, lighter than a feather itself. Imprints where in the hand as it dug deeper into the layers of ash, almost toppling the whole body in the upheaval from darkness. I saw, to my surprise, a landscape of grey. Dark moulds to all sides, as none of which was before, could be seen now. Was my dream the real end, and this before me death way of rattling me further down his spiral. A dance upon the edge of the grim reapers scythe? I had a queasy feeling of something to go about as wrong as it could get, and by my calculation the moment of truth to this feeling, would be about now.

They were all around in the midst of ashes – The bodies that had haunted the restaurant room in their casualness. Devouring the words to each other like they were common to the ancestors as the tongue was placed, moulded and expressed. All of them were nothing but charred meat, red bodies and spilled wine to their last moments in the heat. A fierce battle had obviously been depicted in real life moments and then again frozen. That was all you could tell by the screams that had stopped when pain had protruded, exclaimed itself in their inner blood systems. They crawled up on their feet, slowly taking in, gobbling up the part of the ashes around them. As an inverse breath of death, they were living by what had been fire, beings of ash and mold, muscles and sinew

This uproar should not get in my way, I now stood as I had not stood before; yet again a true stance, true to youth and creativity. The phoenix rising from the ashes of beyond.

Standing in the desert where the winds rushed over him and the ashes all moved to the earthly bounds, earthly reaches; I could see, or spot that there was no help in this no-man’s-land and the beauty which had ruptured him, had disappeared. There I stood, with nothing to remember but the fate that she had chosen to give him. Walking slowly out through the fences to policeman and woman who where placed to stop casual pedestrians from satisfying their curiosity to the outcome of events belonging to past tense. They could only think it as arson, indeed it could be nothing else when a man such as I walked past these mere townsfolk, like the fire had molded me and the devil had spat the body out again. There was nothing but empty glares in their empty bodies, of those bystanders who were there. In my own mind, the chaos raged. I had corpses rising behind, corpses of living flesh to the front, and every step I would be taking was as a hero of humanity. The cave was still behind me, and should the lions not be behind lock and door? I pushed forward in slow steps, ensuring that none would come running to alter my position in this truth among few. She was still in my thoughts among others, the demon harbinger of fire, soulless from heart to brain. Deep feelings from the afterdark kept pulsing into my mind, like a candle against the wind, but stirring again and again, burning the skin of the hand which sheltered it. It was cold yet warm; Only sin could relieve me, lust of the body between body was one of the dark burning thoughts I fought as true as I could. This pressure she put on me, was stripping me bare. I could feel how, among this, that every mental aspect of my being, slowly was nailed into a cardboard box, and hidden beyond my grasp.

Only one thought I could muster, it was heating my whole body, my complete existence to a point beyond control. But i had control, I felt how the impossible from before was possible. I had done it, I had become one with the fire and wreaked havoc among all these people. Sudden bluring images surged through my mind, fueling the feelings of control; different control - colors in a black and white world, light in the dark - uncontrolled and incomprehensible. Pulsating through my whole body, with the flow of blood, the heart controlling the power itself; burning. 

Lips of my mouth was twitching to form a cynical smile, part of my which was not me, had taken effort to create this. I spread cold blood through every vein, counterbalancing the anarchy, before it spread - a tumor that needed to be removed by freezing. The tumor itself was fire, not clean but something very different. Malignant blaze of heating to spread in the whole body. Cold control and logic was enough to spur the smile away at a blast of a frown.

This would require a considerable amount of paperwork. The references that the books held had never mentioned these words among their pages; they had never proposed the thought of his work working against him.

 The thoughts whirled like a pool as I now more than ever needed to orientation on where to go, for answering questions of bewildering origin; I needed to do so, because such a thing as the mind was indexed and catalogued as a filial system where only the reality of his work was stored. With the lot filled with zombies, an escape unnoticed would be an impossible feat even for a chameleon such as I, walking among those born in anything but void. Maybe I didn't need to escape? A part of  my body filled the rest of it with the warm embers of safety, making me stand ground to view through the plane of destruction.

The burned corpses and rotting flesh from the scene behind him had begun making the noises of something unmistakeable in the usual human mind; something that had been buried my whole life, now resurfaced in reality. There was still something rather horrifying about the sound - A distorted cracking sound which you only would be able to compare as the peeling of flesh from burnt wood - but there was only ashes left of every burnt building nearby. This was more than any part of a rational mind could handle, and enough to make some part of me lick my lips in godly calm to nauseating images, which would burn into any man’s mind. Oddities of human form were all around on the scene of the fire – a freaky horror show on television. The corpses had risen in pairs: soulless bodies of man to woman stood, controlled by the table mistress, to the king of reaping. While she stood there, far behind, on the top of the rubble, as one of the corpses, she had her black cloak and deformed body to stand out. From head to toe they were blackened yet in a reddish hue from the burning storm of a passionate lover, turning on the fire of every heart, blasting the restaurant into a hell of lust to abide by her command; she was to be more than a part of this story. Blood sprayed from the holed veins that the woman of fire had made. All the corpses, in pairs, were wandering about to be joined, letting the charred meat of the lips mend together, never able to part again. Each of the pairs twirled their fingers together in unity, where some digits broke off: Blood ran out on the ash-filled ground. Still they embraced like nothing had happened. They were the warm-blooded dead with no mimic and only the muscle bound flesh to aid them. Each person’s scorched flesh that bound and stuck to the other, would, like a sticker, fasten on the opposite sex, when any movement came from one in the pair.

Starstruck, paralyzed and even limp, I stood watching these horrid visions expecting a feint arriving any moment. Nothing as such, not even a blurred image before my eyes. Blurred was the images that formed in my mind, from a distant land, a vast world so horrid nothing but the creatures who had been born from it, was able to live in it. She formed from this dimension, or had always been just a small part of this world, among human; more than human. She stood among the corpses as the crouching tiger having caught its prey, gorging it open while grinding her body to the gluey skin in celebration of the feast, of life. After finishing her one meal of man she moved on to the next: Motions of feline grace themed her passage, purring, having been satisfied enough by devouring of a mere man.

Even I could not bear what moemnts of terror to be witnessed; in desperation and knowlegde of the impending doom yet to come I fell to my knees seeing this... this... insanity that had just happened. There was another she devil here, one that I had almost forgot from before, but had to remember as she now stood at my heels, with all the unloving corpses still rising, still touching, peeling off skin with each touch. She was behind me again, the temptress, the succubus. As god must have taken a part of his ribs to create man in his image, the devil himself must have taken a whole hand to create such a vile thing as her.

I
n laughing words she started “Silly man”
turning to a powerful yet controlled yell “If you will not have me, you must sin in another way!”

By the wave of her hand, she summoned a man and woman, and ceased the act freezing them in what moments of burned love they had been attempting to recreate.
A heavy yank and pull to my hair, raised the head tilting it back to force a submission from me, Edward Choice. It was not a grip of the usual kind, you could resist and let your power work against. Nay, it was a grip both of physical and mental restraining - a disempowering force of hopelessness welled into me, until I felt numb. With her other hand she ripped the head from the man corpse in order to bring it to her lips. In a matter of sheer moments she had fulfilled the cannibalistic course so horrible, sinful and pure evil, that, if it was possible, I would have closed my eyes, but could not.

‘EAT!’  she yelled, as she pressed this lifeless head into his. 

Tears welled up inside me, and soon came running down my cheeks: with this humiliating request she imposed upon me fulfill i felt hopeless, there seemed no option in this matter. Although I wanted to resist, all my strength had been drained in the subsequent events happening since she entered the restaurant.

“I said EAT! Edward Choice, man of losses” she said

The mind behind my mind talked, or tried talking. It was muffled, gagged or the like, and still held a power vaster than what my order could image. My mouth opened to her command and began piece by piece to devour the head. Even bones joined in like they were the tenderest beef I had ever eaten. It was easy chewing these simplicities. These Inca or Aztec traditions that I had to follow by heart – Or the other persons heart. A victim like I now was. A ritual like this occurring at this time made it all easier, made me remember who I was yet again. These delusional femme fatales should not win yet. The work had to be done. Everything disappeared into my stomach where it stayed, without even wanting to ascend again. After those moments everything stopped. The images of the corpses stayed still. In their awkward sexual positions. Just by watching you should think this was karma sutra illustrated for corpses.

Silence....

The passion of burning

It was a question whether I had been eaten by some netherworld beneath my table, at the restaurant, or just had feinted a given time, to which I was not sure yet. Maybe I still had been sleeping in my office. For all I knew, I had to assume the worst. Total darkness was infront of my, but by the feels of everything, it was a small-shuttle like space, my person had been "moved" to. With a maximum capacity of 1 person, the claustrophobic nightmare resurfaced, burning in the deep sensation of the walls getting closer each second. Light froth tingled on the side of my lips, as the anxiety to get out heightened. I swallowed, and made one with the walls in a few breaths. To regain control, I had to think of numbers, of how unreal it would be that the walls around me could tighten even deeper against me than they already were. I breathed in a controlled manner, counting every exhalation, forcing out the thoughts of fear, mending in the thoughts of control. 

This time I knew that my eyes stood as open as the day itself, much differentiating from the last night, where I had to feel before seeing. 

I shimmer of light turned on to my left side. It was a number. Soon several numbers appeared to be lighting with a single one more distinguished from the others, by the means of a brighter light. They each were shaped in a perfect circle to fit a single digit number inside each of them. Now I knew I was in an unilluminated elevator at least. A tug of gravity and friction, caused a tinge in my body strong enough to tell that the lift had begun a descent into what I still did not know. Heat began emanating from all around me, the tinge of my body expanding to a pull of speed. The elevator was fast descending, fast enough to create such a strong heat, that my body began convulsing with sweat from every pore possible.

Light shifted quickly away from 2, as was the floor he had been on before, but instead of lighting up the first floor, the number 3 shone bright. I qiurked a brow patting every part of my body to ensure that it was not me that had gone to oddworld of oddities to collect the opposite day treats. But no I was not naked, and there wasn't anything inverse about the numbers. Still, the elevator kept moving downwards, that feeling I had for sure, and the numbers kept lighting upwards, that was the perceptive conclusion I had to make.

Behind me a small lamp blinked, only in a fashion a streetlight would be able to when isolated without friends on a dark alley. It came from behind me, and I spurned to let my attention drift from gravity, into something my mind could occupy itself with. 

Oh and it was the piece of art, the castle, that had stood there the last time I was in the elevator, and from there a flicker of light, a flicker of a flare darted out towards me, in the living motion of fire. All the time it seemed as people moved, blocking out the light towards me causing that flicker which I had first noticed when I stood with my back against the painting. 

Every time it grew dark, it was possible to see yet another light inside the castle. One that showed the banquet hall fully lit. It was empty at this time, but I had an idea that I hadn't been just a moment ago. A strange sensation of unease went through me, even worse than being trapped in this small room which should be an elevator, which moved down but up. Soon movement was seen outside the castle. Many lights were held the hands of the people moving out, though it was only in one of their two hands. The second almost always held torches. This fire they brought with them showed their faces, all horrible, all angry, all eyes of these, I could suddenly see. These held nothing but violence, wanted disorder, anarchy and destruction which could fall within everything I was against. All instincts shown to me, as the devil herself had taken a hold of them and led them to their innermost desire as men. 

Suddenly every part of my world, as my eyes showed me, went dark.

In this moment I could watch as the picture, which had caught my eye so many times today, had a real unreal epic played out, with each of the chess pieces placed where they should be. Mother Nature had been waiting for this hell to be unleashed inside the painting of the dark ages. ‘no wonder it was called the dark ages’ I thought, looking closer at the picture, focusing on the closing people. They were all jumping into the moor. A rebellion was beginning as the fires did, turning the first silent scene of a castle, into a roar of confusion and death. 

Suddenly, some thoughts intruded on me, which had no origin in the mind I had been developing for long lasting years. There was laughter. A woman’s laughter, slowly beginning to synchronize with my thoughts, twisting them. 

They compelled my to start on my own into this tiny room, and with such force I began laughing, as the woman laughed in the back of my mind. This laughter was in every way uncontrollable.

I smashed my hand at the painting, and like the hand of god I at last broke through and took one of the torches directly from the poor mob. With the laughter, as a begining of a parasite infestation, this woman who had controlled it, now had taken full control of my body. The torch with live fire she moved to my body, setting kindling a flame to my clothes. 

In the midst of the fire she, who was in me begun; I could feel the heat beginning to stick to my body. What wasn’t organic clothing was sticking, melting into my skin to create a second skin. An acrid smell of burnt flesh, lightly roasted, with the sickening smell of plastic and weave stung to me in the air. Still I laughed, in no control of anything, but the registration of pain. I could not scream, could not move and neither was able to accept the pain I to which I felt. Suddenly in these unnatural hopeless circumstances my skin began taking the fire to it, fueling the fire even more, crisping my skin, eating it up as if no fluid existed inside it, but the liquid fuel to start fires. At this point I regained some control, but only enough to stop the laughter and scream, succumb to the pain my mind had registered already from the fire had been lit. Many minutes went by screaming my lungs out until there the rasp of the throat culled my scream turning it into ash. An out of body experience intervened in the pain, as I drifted to a third person point of view above my own body crumbling beneath me. There was nothing left of the human envelope but the skin charred away, leaving juicy muscles unprotected, ready to detach themselves from bone. First the smooth muscles revealed the skeletal muscles and at last the greatest muscle was revealed. The largest muscle of the human body soon stopped beating, and after this everything went into darkness. 

The lull of deception

To you, dearest audience, I am really terrible sorry, that I have not updated my blog for many a days. But the reason, as it will be given today, is scandalous and frightening. I have neither been at my work, nor near any kind of technology. Quite the contrary indeed. Where I last left you standing, in the darkness, beyond the borders of my office, just to peek inside. What you see might be a horror, Beatrice, or a saint, me at my desk. We all know that I was set up by this, the woman in red, as it is beyond me to kill anyone. Her death, in untimely event in the progress of work distribution, need not to be calculated as a bad thing. Even though her job was easy, and she did it right, I have always been best at tending my cases and files myself. This was a new opportunity to set the world deeper into the palm of my hand. But first I had to think, had to revive myself: locate the energy, I had before, and in that matter use it to the fullest in my workcycle.Fuel, food, waste products well organized the human body need as intake optimizing the power of mind and body.

When you last left me I was in a good place, and had the comfort of my office, and I slept there; slept long and deep, until noon on the next day. I woke up so hungry, so much in need of what I have described above, this meal that makes my body fit and able. It was a deep hunger, one that craved protein, meat and all the roasted finesse ever made to be upon me. It would be expensive, yes, and it would be a feast in itself just to make the order. How was I, man of normal body build, be looked upon, with such a prominent dinner. I craved deeper, longed more, so determined upon the hunger, that no work could be done, much to my regret. I felt like a dinosaur, in the need for a fresh carcass, roaming the grounds around which I had always dominated. Roaring out into the deep blue sky, only being answered by those of my kin. If there were any of those. Only silence answered my roar as I stood on the highest vulcano, upon the eye of the world, the greatest mountain to ever be. It was said, that even the greatest mountain, could dissolve itself by fire, and turn the world in its cycle. A vulcano. My roar would still these fires as long as my work itself was done. It was important that this world did not falter, as those of ancient beings did, and it would not as long as I kept standing. and I would always stand! as long as my line would succeed, and as mentioned earlier, by our new methods I would be able to do so, carefully choosing my heirs personal traits without ever bringing my body to defilement.

Stepping gently, silently and in stealth around the long lost body of Beatrice, in its start of decay, I made my way towards the door of the world. I would enter it, the mountain, and conquer it. I firmly pressed the tip of my index finger against the small button "lobby" and awaited my reception, where only I could be king. It would be no serious offence that of the killing, someone, I would have to give permission to go up there, only to prey. He would find the body, and pray with the headless decaying corpse until I told him to stop. Only then would he be a willing minion, able to clean out my mess for me.

There was no trance, no stopping in thoughts, only the growling, rumbling of a stomach waiting, wanting. Like a mewling child it kept pouring forth thoughts of dismay, crying until I almost stood throbbing with pain. I could not reflect on how vast the emptiness inside me had been, and the moments where my thought touched on the topic, I was reminded, in my mind's eye, about the horrible ending I had come to in my trance state. I had been emptied of everything, and laid bare, just to be filled with a horrible metal, as an empty shell ready to be filled. Was I that? No. I was just as hungry, that my numbers would fit, and soon I and it would be satisfied, and again I would be king of the mountain. I would be able to do the duty no one else was able to. Beyond law, beyond satisfaction.

There was no one in the lobby, even at midday. Not even Tom could be spotted, but I allowed him to have a break from one time to the next. I strolled through, out in the street and headed straight for the Restaurant of the Trinity. It was not a normal stroll, but a pushing controlling walk letting none fill my path, controlling the masses around me, setting up quite enough speed to arrive at the restaurant within moments rather than minutes.

A new waiter greeted me, and I got my usual seat a bit away from where the crowd filled the place. It was a strong thought of omnipotency that cast itself to me, as I sat on this place, looking down on the ignorant crowd where none had any idea of how many strings I pulled, even in this room, at this time. I smiled deviously narrowing my eyelids only to a flicker of sight. How I enjoyed this. This sensation was halted immediately as everyone suddenly sat in silence with mouths of miscontempt, pointed staight at me. The sockets of their eyes almost bulging with hate that they didn't even know of. I was disgusted to see that they had noticed my powerful look on them, and bewildered that they did not bow to their master, but instead were forming a revolution of the mind. I ignored it outwardly, but inward I could not hold the grimace I had, and called for the waiter, to fill this hole of hate I had suddenly gotten. Sudden images in all this blurred my mind, and the walls were red as blood, dripping ever again with the words.. The words of meeting in Soho. It flicked on and off. On and off

Then out of the street a lady entered, like no lady had entered before.A devilish posture showed the true intends of murder and passion, which no man would be able to resist. Her deviant smile glowed before me as her eyes of burning passion and lies quickly glanced on these underlings of her power. My eyes could not turn away from her no matter how her I tried, her aura so powerful, I had to gulp in every impression of her black dress which fitted tight to her divinely created body. She walked with elegant strides swaying her body to the motion of the wind that breath created, till she stood in front of my table. She gave me no momentum to speak. Her voluptuous form gave the black dress upon the red wall a movement resembling the dance of fire. Her delirious tone resonated only through my mind before it exited her delicate lips

“I shall please you by accompanying you at this table.” Her eyes fluttered as she looked in a surveying manner

I was dry of words, as I had never been before. No woman had held it like this one could, and oh how the hate and envy boiled inside me. She had cuffed me into silence, and now I was bound already. She had taken the pleasantry already placing her body on the seat without even asking.  The background became foreground, and no tapestry or letters could be seen, just from the bare glance that she produced. It was an odd situation, where she just sat in silence, with the smile of mischief, waiting for me to do something. An odd moment because no one else were staring my direction anymore; why didn’t anyone else notice? The beauty was utopian. And then.. The next is impossible to accept, but you must know. It really did happen! At least some of it.

Her kiss was deep and longing. A sucking slowly filled into the kiss as her tongue drove around unimaginary sensitive to the touch. It felt as if she was prolonging the moments for every second passing by.  As her hands moved like snakes that would entwine the body of their prey, he could only sit transfixed resisting the moans of desire she let upon me. It was her tongue, her body and her essence. A moving point of sensitivity to show the true meaning behind passion to which there was no ending. At last my will crumbled I let out the moan she had been building up within me, her true intend was here and not in the passion she expressed.

From this I woke, as in a dream, already in the middle of the moan, but only to the staring eyes of the audience - the whole restaurant was looking again, as I was moaning to myself, with her eyes into mine, but she had never moved from her position. Still she sat, her smile having changed little but to a fiendish grin that spread slowly. To taunt me! My rage inside was even deeper, and I would not accept this, this abomination to cause such a ruckus. She would not be seen by them, as I was, but I saw her and that would give me power in this situation. Maybe enough power to win her over, win over time and let my work be fulfilled.

By the time the waiter came back to me with the food she had already managed to disguise her fiendishness into what ladylike looks she had. At that moment the waiter gazed to her and she looked directly back into his eyes, his gaze became a glare where only his eyes were in hers, almost jumping out of his skull, for her to devour delightfully. A part of her craved for attention  by others; there was no doubt. The waiter automatically without question turned and went off, not even sparing a thought towards me! This was my domain and this new novice of a waiter had already given up on me. New thoughts fluttered into my occupying it, as the hunger had, this time the hunger was not toward the food but instead on this deviate beauty which was here in front of me. Still I felt the need and urge to eat, and did so, just with her watching me, never falling and never admitting defeat. 

The shadows around me extended their grasp from the single candlelight on the table.  They had taken hold of every person around, to make every figure like the devil himself: Impish looking people making devilish postures around him fiddling fearful gazes.

I would not be played with. I found a sudden darkness from within myself, thoughts of numbers raised. System within chaos, calculated and logical to understand. I could be isolated in this sphere I had created.  She was just gazing, mentally moving her figures around like pawns on the chess board, all these surrounding the king to call for checkmate. I knew that Choice wasn’t on my side in this mind game, and a last stand of light had to be called to resist this darkness coming upon me and my habits. I halted with the devouring and folded my hand to a judging posture while looking down to consider the situation. She, on the other hand looked up in those moments, taking a full deep analyzing look at me, as the snake she were, her strangling grasp had made me lose his habit at this moment, but only for me to resist her complete takeover. ‘Checkmate’ she pronounced as the candle gave in fulfilling the darkness into the restaurant.

Kicking herself forward from the chair and over the table, no moment could be spared. I had calculated part of this move, as she of course would make the first one. I had to be prepared. I reached down to press myself against the table pushing myself and my chair backwards, my back landing on the floor. A quick roll and I was on my stomach, ready to leap anywhere that could offer a chance for safety. She had launched her own body on the table and stood there ready to jump on me, and win me over. To her surprise, I am sure, I crawled beneath her, under the table, grasping for my own calm. I thought deep and long about my office, my desk and everything it possessed. I gave control, and I could notion a sigh of relief as my professional mind was returning.  As the fears slowly was devoured by what sanity I had left, another unknown instance moved in on me; Or under me. It was something dark and gloomy, like an infinite hole in the floor, bubbling and sizzling, awaiting. Slowly I was sinking into this puddle that the floor had changed into. The seal of calm was broken letting panic arise in through my body again. Mind and body first going into spasm, then numb. Nauseous feelings flooded me from the feet up like a stream going into the vast ocean of fear.

 At the point where it reached the stomach, it started turning and moaning in need of relief to the bowels. When the head was reached all I could feel was craving for air, as I went below, my stomach stopped turning. A mind game, where torture was a way to relieve the pains from inside. In a distopic order I could now could see the table I had crawled under, was falling, falling forever from dreams and back into reality.There was no was of intervening with this, and I  floated upon this ride,  and could spot the freeway of thoughts as a readymade tube of goon and gazes for the spectator to enjoy before reaching the debts of hell. Final destination was called and here the elevator stopped. The table was burning under me as I landed on it. The warmth that heated my body with the fires of hell, created in the womb of human fears was now the thing that led to inevitable peace and torture at the same time. There the demon spawn lady stood before me as the only person that had ever existed in this world of reality where I before was ‘king’

In the moments that felt like forever, where he had looked into the eyes of the she-devil succubus, I had been chained to the table where the fires razed. She slowly crawled up onto the table to show her true nature and guise horns beginning to protrude, emerging more and more from her forehead. At last lying on top of me, I succumbed to her kiss and let my body turn to ashes in the grip. Calling out her name as the true kiss had told. she gave me to the ashes of the world where I should be lost forever – riding on the wind of human lust to where blood reigned.

The aftermath

It was an utter defeat, succumbing to the lies and deceit of some madman's dream, and actually believing it was real. I have heard that monotone movements of light, repeatedly, against the ocular receptor, could cause a state of trance. Not only a state of trance as though, but have a hypnotic effect, with the subjects own thoughts changing the perception of reality. A single drop of water, in daydreaming could have such a fatal effect on the causality in the patterns of thoughts, spiralling towards complete chaos within the subconscious state the subject is not caught within.

Although this took all night to learn, I am again my healthy sure footed self, able to manage my tower through the office, ready to beat another day; hopefully without any disrespect and disregard to the sublime authority, I stand as, among the minor species. I had my phone by hand as a magic weapon to wield; dialed numbers in quick succession, reaching the topmost dungeons. My true essence and being unfolded as I wore my weapon of choice firmly attached behind my ear: the Bluetooth headset. I swung around words in a fierce battle, were I the worlds greatest nation, and those I let my power expurgate upon, are but weak nations , devised for my cleansing from them their filth and uselessness.

For this I was made, and could continue as long as time itself prevailed. In this case time only prevails as long as there are any minions to put forth froth and wrath until they obey and muster to my every command. I get them running, mentally, physically, existentially, slowly turning them into soulless forms, no eyes, and no head. only the body need to obey my every command, to be sure that success and imminent victory will be upon us.

With victory at hand I could give the cheering crowd their knights and crosses, special commendations, and send them on their way home to their wives and children. The hours of battle always takes its toll and some must pay, at least one or two ends up in the ditch, descending one or two floors down to represent a new lesser power, which I control.

Just as I had packed every document of importance and stacked the rest reading for further sorting by Beatrice, my decadent master of cleaning, and was ready to leave,
‘Edward there is someone waiting for you in the lobby’ the almost unused machine of communication roared at me, in a light voice from none other than Beatrice.

I jumped, still affected by the events from yesterday, and depressed of sleep, I just wanted to head home. But this, an uninvited, unscheduled statement coming across to me so unnatural, that was unusual indeed. It could be the woman in red, that friend of Frida probably wanting to argument for her sex, swaying her body, trying to trust her tactful movement into a position of lust, in hope of my male fitness would take over, and listen to her sway. Ah what and what a surprise I will give her, disguising my own disgust at her while pretending to be swayed until the last moment. In that moment I give her a mental knockout sending her straight of the door and back to the street where she belongs. I believe such behavior only should be with hookers, and am sure she would be a good one at that, and not inside my building, or lot!

I went out and gave Beatrice a nod as well as my leftover documents for further storing. "have good evening, I need you to file these before you go, and dust off my office of course." I gave her an apologetic smile as I passed, but in my mind it was sinister, and deadly. The doors to the elevator opened and I stepped in, immediately noticing a redecorating of the interior. Instead of gazing upon me suit and the container in the front mirror, I now stood facing an ancient picture of a lively landscape with a castle in the background. After all the wear and tear on my body and mind I could not have been a pretty sight, after all, I am no machine. Tom must have thought of it, knowing that I did not leave yesterday night. 

After the doors of the elevator shut, a matter of minutes went, before the elevator started moving down. These extra minutes caught me unaware, and as best I could I began spending time noticing what the picture really depicted. It was painted with close resemblance to any antique painting. Especially the castle stood out, I could imagine those masons to be true to their work and never back down until the job was finished. No need to go to the family before that, no need to do anything but a good deed, and perfect workmanship. Perfect all in all. 

I thought it was a flick of my imagination, or well it was, or the reflection of the buttons on the elevator side, but it seemed that there was lights inside the halls of the castle. It drew my eyes even closer, forgotting everything around me, in those moments, I was enthralled by what happened inside the frame. It seemed there was a gathering in a lighted room, the warmth almost oozing out in steady gazes on my clothes, only the kind fire sustained. 

Lobby level was reached and the elevator doors opened behind me, and as I was about to turn, I am sure I heard a whisper, through a cold win, chilling me to the bones, a direct opposite to the warmth of the elevator. In it I heard a voice, which seemed almost like something or someone I had heard before. "remember" it whispered and was gone, still the words lingered in me crawling through me veins, touching every nerve found from the neck and up.

I turned to the echo of the forgotten voice but no one was to be seen except the Tom, his pale face iridescent in the clinical lighting

“Ahem! Tom where is the guest, I was called down to meet?” I asked sternly, but still with a slight smile t my face, now that it was Tom I was adressing. Somewhat a true pose I had given him there. Tom just stood still with a dull glace looking at me like I was some kind of freak! Unacceptable

“Tom snap out of it. This is working hours after all”.

“She went up” Tom snapped back at me mopping harder on the floor, at last turning around and going for the front door in silence.

He must have been delirious. Nobody would go up while I was going down. There was only one elevator to my room. Maybe there hadn't been any woman at all. All this was very odd. Things today had begun to take an odd turn as it had done the other days. I decided this was enough and strolled out to my driver, marching past Tom giving him a slightly calculating look before entering the car.

I headed home and into bed after a quick shower. Refreshing.

Staff Meeting

I had a quick question at my office yesterday, by mail of course, nobody enters a dragons lair uninvited. And I see no Knights, only jesters around me. I invite them to my court to hold a grand feast on a weekly basis. At such occasion I laugh some, I eat some, and I devour most, of the inconsequent words presented at powerpoint, reciting information already in my hand. Of course I am the one who rather laughs than hand-feeds those little birds, chirping away all the day. If not they had their little hats and cowls in different colors to match their stupidity, I would feel it a waste of my general time... Appearances appearances!

They quiver and quiet as I stand tall at the end of the table, hammering my hand firmly to the table, nailing their facts to through every floor of the building, and down into the basement. 

The Question; rather surprising, was an inquiry whether I ever sleep or not. There was even a bold statement, pronouncing me a workaholic - The word itself is degrading for one as me, into a status of mindless peon. Workaholic, please. It is not an addiction, but a function to be sure that today's society develops as you wish it. I revere it more as a sacred duty, I am obliged, nay forced to do, to uphold and with such vigor that the pillars of society shall not falter. And this is why I am not a workaholic. 

Concerning sleep, yes of course I sleep, every human being need to recharge and be rested. I know that I am sometimes beyond the mere capabilities of the "common" man. But, alas, even sometimes instinct must be in upheld, and sleep must claim me, like it does any other being.  

Today I woke up, as any other day, to the sound of my alarm. Unlike others I don't cuddle to my pillow, wife or whatnot, but would rather turn my body from my one man bed, sit up, stretch and go out of my bedroom. My bedroom is rather small, there is no need for the modest effects of design, which the woman imports into the bedroom to show her affectation of objects. I know it lies in her instincts, and as such so hard to suppress, where we as men, are superior and beyond design and exterior looks of a modern home. I have heard many a tales of before and after a housing is shared between those bonded between genders. The man interested on effective function of an object, no matter the looks, where the woman only desires.. DESIRES the looks of the object, second rating the effectively. Oh and some wonder why Eve took the apple, she had no desire for the function, only the beauty, the round shapes, she herself and her body wore. Desire my friends, is what she made Adam do, she made him convinced the function was to the best of both, and cunningly she trapped him out of the garden of Eden, cursing him forever to be bound by her. 

From my bedroom I can walk into the hallway, which contains on the left side 1 large toilet and by the entrance, a walk-in closet. When you have as many suits and briefcases as I have, the need for storage where no folds are created expands. Such a closet meets my every need, and the function is fulfilled. On the right side I have my kitchen with an adjourning home office overlooking the streets. This apartment is not so expensive, 11 floors, and easy to get to and from. My driver arrives exactly 1 hour after I have woken, and it takes exactly 15 minutes by car to arrive at the building, and that is even with heavy traffic. My hours begin 45 minutes before the first arrival, other than the 2 at the lobby, who opens the building 2 hours before I arrive. Punctuality is important to maintain control, or in some cases, the illusion of control. 

As it is Wednesday I will go to the right heading for the employee elevator, heading up to the 49'th floor - The floor below mine. It is here all the last 10 floors partake in the weekly meeting. 2 from the 49'th floor will be attending - One of them is Brian, the leadership behind a revolution against me inside the firm. Nobody really sides with him, but they have to mark their consent, as he has worked his way from the bottom and up here. He is good at what he does, predicting. I have placed him to my left, as he has the heart, but no brain, only working his way to best others, and like the first Knight of King Arthur, he will at one time deceive the firm, bonding with a new one, to be my newest competition. Easy to outsmart, maybe not in the fight, but the battle he cannot withstand true strategy. One move at a time Brian. To my right is the master of the floors, and the only other important person in this company, Paul. He stands out with his too big, black lined glasses, dark brown short hair braided to one side, a stiff shirt and red tie to match his grey pants, grey pen and black shoes. He is punctual. He requires order. It is him I trust with planning the meetings, delivering a wide array of entertainment through the day. Behind me, Beatrice will sit weighing the words on the electronic screen immortalizing the mortal persons mistakes. She will be my whisperer of any grammar mistake, I can take a cheery laugh at. 

In this medieval fare today it seems we both have jugglers, lepers and the women with beard entertaining. The first jugglers pretend that the pie diagrams shows any real statistics, and lies are thrown through the room warning us of competition. As a good jester he drops his balls in the end, to my counter argument and everyone laughs and claps at my command. Our lepers, with news from the bottom floors, crawl up to the front and roll around in the dirt of their own words as I command them to begone, and with them they can take these quotes of people who needs to be replaced within next week. Sheer joy leave more people homeless at my doorstep, may they die so stronger ones can replace them. There is no room in this society for weakness or dull looking, much gloating pantomimes imitating what could be good work. 

At last for the kings surprise - I heave my glass and welcome those last entertainers of the fun-fare and toast to their good luck. these metrosexual blenders, who talk until their beards start growing out again. They do prolong the words of strategy, making no true points, but still an interesting hear. I listen, and smile, knowing that there is no doomsday prophet on this day. I accept their plans as they have grown into old wise men after their dubious discussions in front of me. Shake their hand, and watch how their eyes idolize me, from top to toe. Turn off my facade slightly, giving them a wicked grin of power, before turning my back exiting with no fanfares of trumpets in my wake; Rather just the hands in my pockets, leaving them to gaze, open-mouthed, at my back, while I take my exit. Beatrice is just behind me and enter the elevator at the same time. I do not turn, as there is no need. She knows her place, this dog.  

Already as I exit the elevator, I sense the time soon would come for closing this day. Hence I would be going to my office until late hours, watching, waiting for every click of the machine to tell me to do my work, so we can control in unison. I walk briskly towards my elevator, and as I raise my head in sure steps I see an unannounced visitor by Frida. She is in deep conversation, it seems, but I register her turning her head while speaking to Frida, paying the poor woman at the desk no mind. 

This woman... Unannounced.. That is typical women to come and go as they please, but not in Castle. Discipline is the only works against their works of Desire. I pick up my pace, to reach her as fast as possible, this woman, wearing a red dress. I saw her the other day too! I am sure, that such a woman returning, only is ill boding. Like a ship, no woman should be allowed, at least not uninvited, that is bad luck indeed. 

She is turning to leave, I am at an almost run to reach her, but in some manner she is faster than me, with her devilish movement. She is in flight out of the entrance, and as I reach it, gone with the ever flowing stream of ignorant passersby. 

I walk up to Frida DEMANDING who that woman was, and she just looks at me blankly, and tells me there has been no woman in here today. It is outrageous that she can do her chitchat with ladyfriends and just ignore my orders. I told her, if such a thing occurs again she would immediately be replaced and set on the street. Then she began crying, and Beatrice went to her. Such an event should not occur within my walls, a woman crying, showing feelings. At that moment I opened my briefcase neatly. Had no other choice than take out a letter of resignation and write in her name. "There is no need of you here anymore Frida, I will write you a small recommendation, and you can go to a womans magazine and cry your tears there. This is a male firm, no tears are shed within these walls, and no lying either". 

I left her with Beatrice and the letter and strolled calmly to my own elevator. It felt odd, touched by someone. Ah I saw at that time there was a fingerprint. Blasphemy!

I took out my handkerchief and quickly wiped off the fingerprint just before the doors opened, with their silent pleasing sound. Inside stood Tom, a frightened look on him today. He might have been in here since I closed down yesterday. He stood mumbling a bit and looked to all sides, most of all resembling a religious fanatic. I was in no mood to handle him too, and he was a man of work after all, my true knight. A little mental instability should be no cause of concern. 

There was no grandeur in this small prodding of the poor man into the hallway, but he at least seemed more comfortable as soon as he was outside. I leaned against the cold glass, feeling the embrace of my own cold reflection, and my thoughts swam into the deep lake of mathematics, inspiring me yet again, as the elevator ascended, so did I, yet again.

Beyond any thought of man, I stood at last at the top, and would rest here in my true being.

Tom the Janitor

You might know the lobby of any office building, but none so adamant and of course close to any perfection as mine. I can think of one person who made this possible. Tom the janitor. As I take my triumphant strides through the ever reflective lobby of my temple, there is nothing that is not completely clean. No dust bunny able to raise hairs on my neck, not even a scratch on any of the tiles. I am amazed to the powers he has with a mop.

Now you are all problably thinking that I must have a small lobby, but that is not the actual case my dear readers. My lobby, if I should describe such an eminent thing without giving it too little credit, is GRANDEUR itself. Even the entrance could just as well be the entrance to the vatican church, for all I know. My tower, my temple, my workplace, and what you could call my Godhood's beginning. There has been no sparing in hours setting up the ever reflecting tiles depicting several heroic scenes of history. I can follow these all the way to the lift, and would say about 100 strides into the building. What is on the way you say? I prefer having especially that walk, empty of any object that could manifest itself as a nuisance while I am walking. Only a kings path should be fitted to a king, as this is. That is why that elevator only can be used by me. In my firm you got to earn the right to use the elevator. Tom has the right to use the elevator as well as Beatrice. 

So with that in order, I must put my emphasis as to where the objects are placed in my lobby. To the left of the entrance is the counter which is at least a diameter length of 6 meters and as you could guess donut shaped. Inside is another gender paid worker called Frida, redhead with freckles, and eager to talk to anyone who enters the building. So these are my bottomfeeders, making sure the public eye NEVER gets too far into this place. On the right side are yet another waiting area spanning around 40 meters with much room in between. Also for my very loved plants neatly placed in rows. At the end of this there is a door to the left and 2 doors in-front. The one to the left leads into postal reception where all mail packaging is processed. The 2 doors right in-front is the employees entrance into my golden kingdom. One of the doors is a lobby for yet another elevator, this door is card locked. You have to attain a certain rank among my underlings to be able to use this one. The others must work their way to the top, and with that said I do not believe anyone below 10'Th floor has access to the elevator. Maybe only half of those to the 20'Th floor have and ALL on 30'Th floor have access to the elevator.

Back to Tom. Today he was odd. Or well he has been odd for many weeks now. He has begun to always stand in a trancelike state, his neck crooked down as if he was asleep. He is staring down at the floor, stabilizing his body on the mop. I fear that is does not bode well for him, and my love have diminished slightly although the floors still are as clean and shiny as ever - that saves his job for now; It is good to know how much he works himself for his job, as I am sure this is the outcome of. 

As I greet him with my everlasting "heyTom", he only mumbles back in resignation to me cheery posterior. That is a sad thing indeed, as it takes so much effort to built up such a true face hidden in lies and deception. 

I felt watched today, and Frida wasn't at the desk. I must remind her, that when Tom is in a state of mind as this, she is the guard of the building. She must remember, or she will be kicked out! 

I had to look over my back several times to ensure my own safety, all the way to the elevator, but nothing of peculiar interest or out of the ordinary was to see. I entered the elevator as any other day, and there just in my background I was sure a woman moved in slow strides towards me. But the doors closed even before I could glimpse anymore than her red dress.

The rest of the day went as any other, with my workhours and schedules being maintained to maximum efficiency. There never came any uncalled visitors, although I am sure I saw a woman in the lobby, other than Frida of course.