Kitchen Dom - I the Unliving
By: Kevin L. Miller
06 February 2010
Forgive my Sins
Forgive my Rage
For the Night Calls
And I must Hunt...
{{From: Saga of the Unliving}}
* * * *
There's a difference between flirting... and the drek Sandi's up to; she spends every Moment she can on Service Line, eyeballin' every Male willing to acknowledge her. Except for me; she cuts her eyes as if she has something on her Mind... something to say; yet always, Fear echoes behind whatever look on her Features... Fear of the Darkness everyone waits for.
Why? Why glance at the Evil Black Man in a manner fairly guaranteed to snark him off?
Because that is the only Attention I seem to spare her; incorrect, yet for her to fully Understand, she must swallow her Fear. Much easier to shove tit or ass into my mug and Dazzle; too bad that only adds combustibles to an already volatile concoction.
And then there is this: every now and again she'll stare when I'm Under. What happens? I See Whore... not Ho, and this is crucial. A WHORE knows and Understand the cruel truth: Sex, for her, is Strictly Biz... Never Personal; that does NOT mean she must look like something just evacuated from a child's bowels... and she WILL NOT Accept treatment as such; keep it Professional and everyone is Happy.
And somehow... I am supposed to blind Ra's Eye to her Soul; somehow I must ignore what I See and accept the Lie that she dangles before hungry Sheep-wannabe-Wolf... when my Right Hand Knows that somewhere Within that mess of Standards and Judgments by less-than-worthy scumballs... is a submissive Soul seeking not Guidance, but Assistance. A gentle nudge when something is not quite up-to-spec...
* * * *
And when there is
The Rhythm
Bass
Harmony
And when Blood
Is Music
Dance
{{From: The Raver Eternal}}
* * * *
All night long Ama listened to Today's Rap; as a closer, I guess she expected the Music to stop once the last Thug-Cook left the Kitchen, heading into the Night. Then her ears picked up sultry piano. Curious, she makes her way into the Kitchen; only one Soul is there, and this does NOT sound like his Music.
So... she listens... and the piano becomes a synthesizer... right before something purely electronic... and yet somehow hideously organic, slides into existence... to be joined by thunderous bass and even more electronic... noise...
This was him... and perhaps that explains why she listened; under normal circumstances she'd fire off some comment about noise... but HE WAS DANCING AND SMILING!!! More... there was a certain Look and FEEL pulsating from him, as if the Music filled him, and somehow, got amplified, forcing his body to move. He spins around, his feet stepping intricately in-and-out of rhythm, but always... In-Time to the Chaos she was just beginning to See... given Physical Form in the strangest Form imaginable...
And in that Moment... she Falls into Chaos; Ama's pulse explodes beyond trip hammer. She will ponder the plethora of Sensations... EMOTIONS... packed into that sliver of Time. Then he spins away, and it feels as if he tore away... or she was yanked back into Reality.
One song ends, another... Hip-Hop... bumps into the air; she feels somewhat more at ease, though he seems... subdued.
"What was that?"
"Darkcore... the artist is Ophidian. Track name... Butterfly VIP." His tine wasn't cold, nor was there anything truly warm in his description. However, one look at his face said otherwise.
"What is that... rave music?"
"Hard core... and speed-wise, this is VERY tame. I listen to Music that Moves me... speaks to me..."
Apparently... like the song after the Hip-Hop Interlude...
Gothic... the opening is sweeping... and very gentle; she stops short of soothing when the high-hat shatters the mood... and the bass, scratched... irritated... pounds. Yet... he doesn't bounce; in fact... he seems to stare off, eyes closed, at someone he truly longs to Hold in his arms; his jaw twitches... his neck tightens as Determination follows the galloping Beat... a Sensation verified when the only Word cuts the air for the first time:
ANGEL...
* * * *
Somewhere... there is a red-headed Angel; she has broken wings... that is Mankind's Doing.
I would Correct this.
Laugh if you will... she should not be here... amongst the nearly-dead, Undead, and worse. She should not bear the Touch of one so Tainted... by ANY Mortal Soul...
And yet, God saw fit to let these hideous appendages Hold such a fragile Creation, to bask in its presence. And I was not fooled by the scuffed outer shell; that was Mankind's Doing.
And she dared look into the Darkness... and she gave me Names.
She calls me Hero.
She calls me Samurai.
In her Heart... I am all that is Best and Nobel in that Creature... Man.
I stopped asking Why long ago... simply Accepted that this Angel speaks Truth to these Ears; how else, then, can I Exist.
I Examine this... Form. Are those Tears? How can the Damned... one Truly Evil... cry? Only those with a Soul may Cry... And WHY does an Angel... cry for me?
No...
Not for me... NEVER
You want to know WHY I pick up my Blade? Why I cannot Stop? Why I refuse to die when everything around me seeks me demise? Why do I struggle? Why do I choke down tears... bathe in my enemies bowels... why!!!
Why get up each and every day? Why endure Solitude? Why force myself to go through the Motions?
* * * *
Because I just don't give a shit; I Know what I need... and unless God decrees otherwise... I WILL have it. Local rules be damned; don't give a shit about Hustlin'... the Game... fuckin'... Getting' Laid.
For that one shining Moment...
And nothing... Not Racist attitudes... not Go-with-the-Flow... is a Challenge for very long. Alone or with Pack... I will keep Fighting the Good Fight, slaughtering countless in my mad quest to be More than a Skin Color and Stereotype... more than these Crafted Words will ever convey...
Hideous and beloved... cherished and the Fiend used to tuck away naughty children... phantasmal as Thought... and just as real and Powerful.
I raise my gaze; it freezes her Soul. I don't care about anything... and those who stand in my way are already Dead to me; this Burns behind... within... and frightens her.
And still... I See Sorrow; not pity; she is too Strong and Wise to waste that on me. How did I get here? The scars cannot be seen; as with the Exterior... most of the Real... the Needed... is Covered by Darkness... housed in Nothing. If you want to touch me, assure me I am Wrong... then be prepared...
ONLY ANGELS DARE TOUCH SO FOUL A CREATURE...
That Creature... Man.
* * * *
And then I can Rest
Tears shed for Lives Lost
Pain eased
Thoughts still
Soul at ease
I Pray
For I Know no other
Way
I Wield
The Black Blade
I Stand as Man
For I Know
No other
Way
Forgive me
{{From: Saga of the Unliving}}
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