2
The devil spoke true; the world was on fire.
Goëtiaʼs Hut was a rougarouʼs purgatory, of flesh and skin, where they ripped off babiesʼ faces with starved hunger. The blood moon rose in the sky as the wolves sang their songs and the rougarous reaped their raptured souls. As Angus limped towards Goëtiaʼs Hut, face stricken in blood and dirt, his body cried in pain. The rougarous would screech, trying to gorge on his flesh, and he would cut them down. From breast to bone. Flayed alive, impaled at the stake, the Two Murderers – Angusʼ right-hands – whimpering in dying breaths. Blood rolled down their faces in streaks: staining streaks, Picasso streaks, streaks of an endless sea of macabre red.
Angus clutched his side, cursing at the gory sight in front of him. The rougarou wounds dug deep, the Murderersʼ flesh etched into the ground, six feet deep.
They would burn; he would burn.
So might as well ʼave a wee bit oʼ fun paintinʼ it red ʼfore I burn this b*tch to the ground, Angus mused to himself. And so, to paint it red, Angus slit his wrists, feeding the dastardly earthen mother –
Angus chanted:
Double, double toil and trouble:
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
I look upon ye Weïrd Sisters,
And make a simple plea:
Hut, hut,
Turn your back to the forest.
Hut, hut,
Turn your front to me.
– and allowed Goëtiaʼs Hut to eat him alive.
CZYTASZ
Our Dark Prince (The Scottish Play)
FantasyTHE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO LOUISIANA - And there will be killing until the score is settled. Tortured and exiled, Robin DeMarcus came back to the United States unscathed: a ruthless heiress to an antebellum empire with a hunger for revenge to carry on...
