The Fool!
by Nate Leved
Do you hear us coming? Can you
feel our hot breath upon your neck?
Do your nerves tighten when you
furtively glance over your shoulder
in the long night of your pain, heart
racing?
Darkness surrounds you like a velvet
shroud as the meager light of one
small tallow candle struggles against
the gloom of your woe begotten soul
and you recall what might have
been.
Forsaken! "Why has thou forsaken
me?" You cry in the darkness of the
storm as the hot winds of Hell lick
against your bruised skin and the
driven spikes release droplets of
copery blood to run down your arms
into the sand below.
Thou art lost! Thine chance had
come and passed in the night when
Lucifer bade thee to go with him.
Fool! Now thou must pay the price,
your suffering, a mockery of the
damned.
In your mind's eye, the word "Fool"
rings out and its echoes lodge fast
upon the furry coating of your
parched tongue. Your lungs scream
out in agony as you push up against
the rusty spikes of your stupidity
only to catch another rancid breath,
begrudgingly snatched from the
miser who would withhold any
succor and trod heavily upon the
hearts of fools such as you.
You tried to subdue the world, but
brought pestilence instead. You are
the first in a long line of fools who
would die in the feeble light of your
convictions while others would dine
at their Father's table in splendor.
Fool!
You speak of retribution? You
threaten damnation. Hah! Thou
hast earned thine name well, Fool,
thine misbegotten, bastard son of a
raving desert maniac. Thine hour
hast come as thine life force pours
out upon the thirsty sand of the foul
desert that spawned thee.
Men will remember thee and make
mockery of thee, paying you lip
service all the while doing as they
will. The criers of thine name will
know corruption and become a
laughing stock among free men who
hail the noonday sun. Thou hast
failed, and even the greatest of thine
followers are not without sin. Even
they mock you from the beds of
harlots, wine dripping from their
lying chins.
Thou shalt be remembered as the
great whore who would sell the
souls of mankind down the shoot of
corruption and death, for he that
hearkens unto thine word shalt
suffer the loss of godhood.
Oh, accursed one who hath defiled
the children of Lucifer. Thou art not
worthy to soil the Earth with thine
tainted blood. Spreader of iniquity
and perversion, be gone with you.
Yes, lie beside the road of life in
thine own filth, and leave the sons of
Satan to their own. We have no
need of the likes of you.
Do you hear us coming? Can you
feel our hot breath upon your neck?
Do your nerves tighten when you
furtively glance over your shoulder
in the long night of your pain, heart
racing?
Hear our racing feet upon the sand.
We are coming for you, greasy little
bastard, and you shall know us soon.
Your scent is upon the wind, and our
fangs are bared in anticipation of the
coming feast.
Do you know us? Sure, you do! We
are the great liberators, coming to
remove your taint from the minds
and hearts of man. We have a
purpose, and we shall fulfill it. Who
are we? Hah! We are the sons of
Satan, the dogs of war!
Leved
Copyright 1996-2003, Nate Leved, all rights reserved.
"May the Dark Sun light your journey."