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Lament Of Darkness by L.S. Sunheart

Lament Of Darkness

The night started out like all the other recent ones. The bitter cold of mid winters’ below zero temperatures bit into Damian’s   exposed skin. Even the berretta in his coat pocket felt like the icy cold grip of death.

He met Mary, as usual, outside the club that they all hung out at. Inside, the sweltering heat of many pressed bodies, gyrated to the beat of the newest head banging punk band. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed perspiring flesh.

They slowly made their way up to the crowded bar. There they ordered their usual shots of the cheap house whiskey, downing four each in less than one minute.

Damian could feel the bitter sharp acrid taste as it coursed through his veins, releasing his inhibitions. Mary grabbed his arm and led him out onto the dance floor.

My how he loved her. The many multiple studded piercings of her body reflected a kaleidoscope of colors from the dance floors’ pulsing strobes. Her jet black hair, against skin as white as new fallen snow, only accentuated her beauty.

Many a night did they spend, in their often violent lovemaking, that they both reveled in. Tonight would be no  different. It would be a release from the dark seas in which they were immersed. 

He moved closer to her. Grabbing her hips, he roughly slammed his into her nether region. Her eyes opened wide with the thrill of the promise. Those dark fathomless eyes immersed him, dragging him deep, with no means of escape.

He could feel her arms around him. Their strength pulling him closer. Her hips, swaying to the music, forced themselves ever tighter, insistent against him. The heat of her passion, bubbling up like molten lava, scorched him to the very bones of his being. Tonight would be unlike anything that came before. Like walking into uncharted territory. Exhilarating in its’ uniqueness, yet driven by madness.

The music ended and they made their way, again, to the bar. They ordered and downed two more shots, then headed out to fulfill the promise.

As they stepped out into the night, a cold blast of northern air cut into their skin like a sharp razor. The darkly ominous clouds gave way temporarily to a sickly pale moon. It’s ashen beams danced across the dirty and discolored snow that was plowed up along the curbs. In the distance a siren brayed, like a wailing cry of a lost soul. Damian shuddered with a feeling of….. he knew not what. The dark undercurrents of these slums weighed heavy on his mind.

Damian’s apartment lay just around the block. It was above the public steam bath that the dregs of the city used for their twisted and demented games. Sometimes, when he was alone at night, he could hear the feverous pitch of the screams wafting up through the floor. He would dream of going down there then and being the administer of such flavorful atrocities. 

They hurriedly rushed up the stairs, loosening their clothes as they went. Once inside they stripped them off and grabbed each other. Like rutting animals, they were all over each other in wild abandon. As he mounted her he started pulling on her nipple rings. The pain drove her to pleasures that she dearly loved. The harder he drove into her and pulled on her rings, the greater her passion soared. 

He lost all control in his rush to an orgasm never before experienced. His hands left the rings and slid up around her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter with his rising passion. In an abandoned corner of his mind he could feel her struggling beneath him. He felt the constricting squeeze around him as he drove to the limit inside her.

As he exploded within her, he felt her go limp. A terrible dark dread embraced him. In a daze he stared at her now limp and lifeless body. What had happened? What had he done? He felt by her heart for a beat. Nothing. He put his ear to her mouth to listen for a breath. Again nothing. The realization of what had happened struck him like a blow from Thor’s hammer. He screamed with an unbearable pain that would have froze even  the most compassionate heart.

In his rising insanity he put on just his boots and trench coat and headed out into the night. Even the cold bitterness of night retreated from his icy blank stare. He wandered aimlessly down the garbage strewn streets, finally coming to a rat infested dead end alley. Slowly walking all the way in, he pressed his back against a crumbling brick wall and sat down.

With a hand in his pocket he could feel the berretta, warm against his flesh. Drawing it out, he caressed it lovingly in both hands. Through a broken and dirt stained upper window the Tool song “Sober” blared.

I am just a worthless liar
I am just an imbecile 
I will only complicate you
Trust in me and fall as well

Now cold and alone, Damian contemplated his fate.

Somewhere in the night a lone shot rang out.

Laughing, deaths’ dark hand claimed yet another soul.
 

Edited by user Tuesday, May 9, 2023 12:22:46 PM(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified