THE GRAVITY OF SATAN'S WORDS

THE GRAVITY OF SATAN'S WORDS

A shiver ran up Skrella's spine. She could feel he was near. She could hear his voice smooth and velvety as it almost dripped with honey. She knows that voice. The voice from her dreams. His shapely eyebrows must have been sculpted because they have couldn't possibly be natural. Her eyes widen as a new thought dawned on her; she was being prowled by him. She wanted to turn and leave but as if by magic other-worldly force, her muscles refused to move. She struggled with his strength and her own desires towards him. She shook her head and reached out blindly.

She had beautiful green eyes. Green rimmed with gold and so expressive that he doubted she could shield her thoughts from anyone. Her pale face shimmered just beneath the surface of her creamy skin. High cheekbones added definition to her slightly rounded face, marred by the faintest tinge of healing bruise. She let his gaze travel to her mouth, her pouty lips that parted slightly to let out the sounds of desperation. She wanted his mouth. Wanting him to taste her.

She heard his thoughts: “Be aware that the vow you take before me today is not to be taken lightly. You are no longer in the bosom of your families. Here, you serve SATAN himself!" Strained and broke in several places, making the words sound painful and awesome. Her disfigurement showed a deep well of anguish and agony, that Skrella could only equate to her service and devotion to SATAN. She seemed to nod at the gravity of the words spoken.

Your vow is one of silence. Your vow is one of obedience. Your vow is one of unquestionable loyalty to the Order. Your vow is one that cannot be revoked. In vowing yourself to me and to The Order, you will become ONE with Satan; and with your mind, body, and soul, you will be betrothed to SATAN!”

“Then let it be done. Remove thy clothing, forsake thy possessions, don the gild of SATAN, and let her journey to being of THE SATAN ONE.”

She shook her head. She was beginning to imagine things. In the eerie lighting, it appeared that Jesus was looking down upon her, directly looking at her; his tortured eyes glowing in the flickering illumination. A hallucination? Was she dreaming? To think that Jesus would look upon her in this way was heresy. She dared not to move. The dim light was playing tricks on her. The murky vapors were testing her strength and fortitude. The temperature in the stone room seemed to have increased. Hotter. Wetter. It felt uncomfortably warm. A column of sweat rained down her naked back and her knees began to ache from her body weight. She felt a little lightheaded in this unpleasant heat. The smokey heat was making her delusional. The vibrations felt stronger and stronger teasing her to an agitated state. The heat upon heat had made her entire body perspire and the accelerated light headedness was making her twitch.

A heavy thunder approached that broke a deep sleep in her head as would a person who is wakened by force. She looked around with a steady gaze. She felt herself in collective thoughts of everlasting pain. So dark, like death began. Great sorrow filled her heart feelings of thick crowed shades....