It is that time of year. The cold and dark creep into the early hours of the evening. Often we are left in a state of listless exhaustion and weighty fatigue that settles heavy between the shoulders.
A tender friend is present to help.
Citrus!
One of my favourite oblations to Lucifer is fruit and chocolate. A little spice goes a long way...
For this, I melt dark chocolate on a low heat. Go as fancy or cheap as you wish. Dark chocolate chips were on sale at my local grocery store and so I went with those.
Once melted in a pot, I simply dipped my slices and set the coated slices gingerly upon a sheet of wax paper I had placed upon a baking sheet. From there, it was a generous helping of sea salt and a soft dusting of cayenne pepper for that salty and zesty kick to melt with the sweetness of chocolate.
The combination is divine and makes for a splendid and easy oblation and snack to uplift heavy spirits.
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I am unused to sunshine.Ā The brightness hurts my stolen eyes.Ā Yet here I find myself on a grass-covered hill, mid-afternoon, with the sun pouring down upon me and no shade nearby.Ā Ā
In one hand, I hold an artifact of dark magic, wreathed in protective soulfire, endlessly whispering promises that would twist and shape desire.Ā In the other, I hold an elongated bun, soft bread split in twain.Ā Condiments which resemble a combination of blood and chopped hive entrails surround a tube of finely ground flesh, marked from contact with searing hot metal in dark stripes along its length.
Beside me, my companion tries and fails to hide his anticipation from me.Ā The combination of his irreverence with his eagerness to please me is both frustrating and endearing.Ā He stands over a flaming pyre with other tubes of ground flesh upon it.Ā He tends to them as they hiss and spit their juices into the fire.
He claims this meal is traditional for the season.Ā He insists this communal ritual consumption is an essential aspect of the experience of Summer.Ā He has also insisted on preparing drinks containing small wood and paper umbrellas which serve no useful function.Ā He claims they are customary as well.
Scribe Eido of the House of Light and her father are both nearby.Ā Four-armed, towering over everyone except the Cabal, they are inspecting the tubes of ground flesh on the fire with quiet suspicion, not wanting to offend.
Others watch us carefully.Ā Members of the Vanguard, civilians, guardians, Eliksni, Cabal...Ā They look upon the broiling fleshy cylinders with a mixture of hunger and concern.Ā My companion is known for having eaten many inedible things.Ā They are unsure if food prepared by him will be delightful or abhorrent.Ā They seek validation from the first one to receive a portion of this strange meal.Ā Ā
All eyes are upon me as I raise the end of his half-burnt offering to my lips.Ā I take a bite and watch his face as I chew.Ā His eyes glint proudly in the sunlight.Ā His lips form a rakish smile for me and me alone.Ā It always pleases him so intensely when I consume something he has prepared.Ā Ā
The meat is flavourful and infused with the smokiness of the fire.Ā The condiments are sweet and tangy.Ā The bread is soft and warm.Ā Try as I might, I cannot help but smile.Ā Ā
It is delicious.
Be sure to check out the rest of the zine! It's full of art and writing from multiple people, including several pieces written by me!
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Well this will be interesting-
I got the vampire masequerade, so this'll be fun.
Spoilers for Shadowbringers, TW: Body horror, transformation, and loss of sense of self.
There was only a burning light now. A sheering red hot feeling across the entire body, that refused to cool down or to fade away. The flesh and scales of the body being stripped away as they peeled off the skin in chunks. The hair falling away, quickly replaced with golden feathers that erupted from their burnt and scarred scalp..
The corrupted light screamed in their mind. Wanting to be released. To be freed. And if it couldn't, it would break everything in it's way to do so.
Yet, a soul responded against it... Forged from the fragmented beings that comprised it. For so long having remained dormant of it's own will, to allow these souls to function and survive as their own individuals.
Yet now? It screeched. And the Light within cowered.
The soul harnessed the light.. Though it could do little to stop the corruption of the body. Their head was covered in golden feathers that shot upwards, forming a sort of crown that angled out like razor sharp claws. A single sharp spike shot out from the top of their head. Their head was covered in five faces. One had it's eyes stitched shut, another with it's mouth closed with constant tears, one had a constant expression of rage, with glimmering golden eyes. The fourth had it's eyes closed, and a solemn expression, and the final one, the one that gazed outwards, had a blank expression.
The once purple scales had now turned to a saddening gold, with silver specks dotting them. Their skin a harsh porcelain, and their chest had a hole within it's center.. A heart beating within, cracked and shattered. Each beat made the heart turn steadily more golden.
It's arms were shattered at the elbows, and floated at where they should be connected. In one hand they held a shattered staff that had a pulsating orb of light at the end of it. In it's other was a long, shattered blade. An Anima, extinguished alongside it's creator. Once vibrant purple flames now only sputtering sparks around the broken weapon.
The creature gazed out at the group.. Fellows, lovers, and close friends staring in horror at the abomination. The creature gazed out past them.. The look on their faces only haunted them. They instead focused on the man in front of them.
His old, disheveled form staring at first in satisfaction.. Then horror as the blank face turned to one of familiar mourning. The gaze was familiar to them..
...And they let out a saddening voice... None that Levai's friends had known, and not even matching that of those of Lyriun, or Fray. But a new one, a soft, melodeous voice.
"Oh my dearest Hades... What have you done to them...?" Spoke Persephone, now Oblation.. The older of the seat of Azem.
Campus urban legends, but make it creepypasta. Posted on Hellopoetry in November 2021.
donāt take a picture on sunflower road.
donāt take a picture with him
with his arms open wide
and his face to the sky
or your next four years will be ten
donāt take a picture on sunflower road
before you have earned your bouquet
donāt point your lens
at the statuesque man
if you donāt wanna be delayed
some say thereās no curse,
that your fear makes it worse,
but still it fulfills without fail
like the priestess at delphi
each saddening selfie
dooms the foolās smile to a wail
it will take what you give
til your brain is a sieve
so youāll never leave;
never lay down your load
listen to stricture,
the unwritten scripture:
donāt take a picture
on sunflower road.
