This is how the world ends...
With a whisper. With a call for darkness to push away the light.
Revelation is rising. The Horsemen are riding to avenge God's death.
"Open your eyes, Eve."
Can you see It? The Monster crawling out of Hell's abyss, lurking just outside your bedroom window like a thief cloaked in moonlight and wickedness? Can you feel It slithering into your dreams, slipping your skin over Its bones? Can you smell Its taste Its desires? The poisonous stench of dead and dying things warm on your tongue like fresh apple pie?
"Listen, Eve." To the bittersweet innocence of your soul screaming, to the susurrus of your skin giving way to reptilian scales. Hear the sound of your tongue bifurcating serpentine as the hunger grows strong within your veins.
"Now, it is time to understand, Eve." For you are no different from Hell's monsters. You are a devourer of souls, a destroyer of things. You are a beast, skinned in the shadows and birthed in the bowels of Hellfire. You rise with the moon, unhinge your jaw, and sink your blood-stained fangs into the soft flesh of Creation like the Beast that you are.
Child of Chaos. Child of Blood and Shadows.
Don't be terrified of what you are. Of who you are.
For you, sweet Eve, are God's Favorite One. The Almighty's Divine Muse. You are the Soul of the Universe given form and function.
You just don't know it yet.
YOU ARE READING
The Subtle Taste of Midnight
RandomMidnight. The Witching Hour. The time when dreams come a-calling, whether or not you're asleep. TSTM is a collection of poems, short stories, musings, night owl rants, and whatever bullshit my sleep-deprived mind can cobble together before the sun r...
