dauntfreesparro
09-16-2007, 03:27 PM
The Ghost Orchid
Dressed in Darkness, overwhelming,
stands the ghost orchid.
Lightning and shadows dance,
blood about them falling. Summoned
by her voice, her screams.
She stands, her hands stained
in her own blood. Beautiful, sinisterly
lovely, deadly rose.
Pressing a white flower to her
broken heart, drenching it in blood.
Heart and soul, dead to all.
Nothing is left behind her,
only a forgotten memory. Only a
forgotten voice, forgotten soul.
Many things are hidden within
the black veil of night, silent and
wicked beneath a burning sky.
Dressed in darkness, overwhelming,
stands the bloody ghost orchid.
Prologue
The darkness flooded the earth, soaking the green mass of foliage in a black radiance. No light escaped its might, no moonlight, no stars. All time was swallowed up within the silence; all knowledge was eaten away by the fear of the overpowering night. The eerie peace wrapped heavy arms about the gloom, as if to hold its savage presence in place.
A soft, icy, wind blew through, brushing against something to terrible to be known. The wind, suddenly, ceased, as if what it had touched, what it had known had killed it. The silence was oppressive, like an acid, it seemed to gnaw away at the mind. The sickly sweet smell of death and decay hung on the air like a pungent veil. A sot, white fog began to settle over the darkness, acting as a cloak to it, covering and holding it. Everything seemed so still, so unearthly and quiet. It was as if everything had been suffocated by the black silence, stifled by the empty dark.
Then, out of the abysmal dark, there arose a haunting scream, as if Hell itself had joined its screams to make one voice. It shattered the silence, rending itself from the very soul of one in terror. Suddenly, a girl stood, ethereally white, against the darkness. In her hands was a ghost orchid, its silvery white petals saturated with blood. She, slowly, lifted her gaze to the sky and, as if summoned, bolts of silver lightning began to fall all about her. For a moment she seemed engulfed by the flames of lightning, encased within a beautiful, fiery, prison.
She was beautiful, her hair a strange shade of black, shimmering and volatile, as if it had a life of its own. Her eyes seemed on fire, hot and devastating to any who might fall under her watch. She leveled her gaze with the horizon, unseen in the darkness and violence she caused. Tears of pain fell from her, now, colorless eyes, tears stained with a terrible truth. Her body, lithe and agile, then became rigid, as if her whole body was being possessed, being overwhelmed.
A man appeared behind her, his arms about her shoulders, one of his hands pressed over her heart. His violent lilac eyes held some of the same tears she had shed, as if they were linked by an unknown chain of knowledge and emotion. Their tears mingled, then flew away like tendrils of cold fire. They began to drift upward, on the air, his body pressed closely to hers. He possessed her; mind and body, heart and soul. She softened, slightly, into the curve of his body against hers. It was a tender moment, to tender for the harsh turmoil about them, to delicate for this world of pain and sorrow.
A laugh, one that seemed half laugh and half sob, escaped her delicate, tortured mouth, as she pressed the flower to her heart, to his hand. No sound came from anywhere else, only her laugh, harshly cold and cruel to the hearing. A sound that could break the heart and sear the soul, wrenched from the depths of evil, sorrow and truth. She no longer seemed entranced by the man's presence, her whole being shaking as if it would fly apart from the strain of the possession. She was completely alone, yet surrounded, he could not reach her now and she would never reach him. She half turned, barely breathing, to look into the eyes of the man behind her.
Something pushed in-between them, wrenching and separating one into two. They stumbled back, shaken by an earthquake of emotion and pain. Once again, the girl pressed her bloody flower to her heart, holding it there. She seemed to hesitate then, reaching across the nameless abyss that had separated them, she touched the flower to the man's chest. A sad smile passed between the two, both bleeding and crying.
A drop of blood, mingled with tears, fell from the petals and, as it touched the ground, the girl and man vanished. Only the bloody flower remained, gently glowing as if on fire within. All around it black shadows danced, strange voices rising up in an unbearable scream. Skeletons rose from their graves, their bones making horrific harmony. They held the skulls of dead kings in their own skeletal hands, filled and dripping with blood, their mouths open in silent laughter.
Out of the darkness appeared a great tiger, black with white stripes tipped in the blood of men. The skeletons did not seem to care that their party was being observed, but continued to dance and laugh at the wicked darkness. They danced about the tiger, spilling their cups of blood over the ground, over the dark. Their silent laughter echoing in and out of the emptiness. The songs of the dead men pierced the stillness, rising higher and higher above the iniquitous chaos.
A flash of crimson lightning split the heavens and grazed the earth with flames. The flames devoured everything, engulfing the darkness with fear and pain, agony and terror. The tiger began to tremble, shaking and breaking apart, melting and burning back together. Then, in the midst of the laughing skeletons and the fire, stood the girl. She began to float above the inferno, her arms outstretched as if to embrace the burning sky. She spoke, her words hauntingly soft and chillingly gentle. As she spoke her skin rotted away from her bones, as if from the terrible heat. In a moment she was only bloody bones and, as they fell to the ground, they made a clamorous music that rang throughout the night.
Then all was still, the darkness drenched in blood and the flower only a forgotten memory.
Dressed in Darkness, overwhelming,
stands the ghost orchid.
Lightning and shadows dance,
blood about them falling. Summoned
by her voice, her screams.
She stands, her hands stained
in her own blood. Beautiful, sinisterly
lovely, deadly rose.
Pressing a white flower to her
broken heart, drenching it in blood.
Heart and soul, dead to all.
Nothing is left behind her,
only a forgotten memory. Only a
forgotten voice, forgotten soul.
Many things are hidden within
the black veil of night, silent and
wicked beneath a burning sky.
Dressed in darkness, overwhelming,
stands the bloody ghost orchid.
Prologue
The darkness flooded the earth, soaking the green mass of foliage in a black radiance. No light escaped its might, no moonlight, no stars. All time was swallowed up within the silence; all knowledge was eaten away by the fear of the overpowering night. The eerie peace wrapped heavy arms about the gloom, as if to hold its savage presence in place.
A soft, icy, wind blew through, brushing against something to terrible to be known. The wind, suddenly, ceased, as if what it had touched, what it had known had killed it. The silence was oppressive, like an acid, it seemed to gnaw away at the mind. The sickly sweet smell of death and decay hung on the air like a pungent veil. A sot, white fog began to settle over the darkness, acting as a cloak to it, covering and holding it. Everything seemed so still, so unearthly and quiet. It was as if everything had been suffocated by the black silence, stifled by the empty dark.
Then, out of the abysmal dark, there arose a haunting scream, as if Hell itself had joined its screams to make one voice. It shattered the silence, rending itself from the very soul of one in terror. Suddenly, a girl stood, ethereally white, against the darkness. In her hands was a ghost orchid, its silvery white petals saturated with blood. She, slowly, lifted her gaze to the sky and, as if summoned, bolts of silver lightning began to fall all about her. For a moment she seemed engulfed by the flames of lightning, encased within a beautiful, fiery, prison.
She was beautiful, her hair a strange shade of black, shimmering and volatile, as if it had a life of its own. Her eyes seemed on fire, hot and devastating to any who might fall under her watch. She leveled her gaze with the horizon, unseen in the darkness and violence she caused. Tears of pain fell from her, now, colorless eyes, tears stained with a terrible truth. Her body, lithe and agile, then became rigid, as if her whole body was being possessed, being overwhelmed.
A man appeared behind her, his arms about her shoulders, one of his hands pressed over her heart. His violent lilac eyes held some of the same tears she had shed, as if they were linked by an unknown chain of knowledge and emotion. Their tears mingled, then flew away like tendrils of cold fire. They began to drift upward, on the air, his body pressed closely to hers. He possessed her; mind and body, heart and soul. She softened, slightly, into the curve of his body against hers. It was a tender moment, to tender for the harsh turmoil about them, to delicate for this world of pain and sorrow.
A laugh, one that seemed half laugh and half sob, escaped her delicate, tortured mouth, as she pressed the flower to her heart, to his hand. No sound came from anywhere else, only her laugh, harshly cold and cruel to the hearing. A sound that could break the heart and sear the soul, wrenched from the depths of evil, sorrow and truth. She no longer seemed entranced by the man's presence, her whole being shaking as if it would fly apart from the strain of the possession. She was completely alone, yet surrounded, he could not reach her now and she would never reach him. She half turned, barely breathing, to look into the eyes of the man behind her.
Something pushed in-between them, wrenching and separating one into two. They stumbled back, shaken by an earthquake of emotion and pain. Once again, the girl pressed her bloody flower to her heart, holding it there. She seemed to hesitate then, reaching across the nameless abyss that had separated them, she touched the flower to the man's chest. A sad smile passed between the two, both bleeding and crying.
A drop of blood, mingled with tears, fell from the petals and, as it touched the ground, the girl and man vanished. Only the bloody flower remained, gently glowing as if on fire within. All around it black shadows danced, strange voices rising up in an unbearable scream. Skeletons rose from their graves, their bones making horrific harmony. They held the skulls of dead kings in their own skeletal hands, filled and dripping with blood, their mouths open in silent laughter.
Out of the darkness appeared a great tiger, black with white stripes tipped in the blood of men. The skeletons did not seem to care that their party was being observed, but continued to dance and laugh at the wicked darkness. They danced about the tiger, spilling their cups of blood over the ground, over the dark. Their silent laughter echoing in and out of the emptiness. The songs of the dead men pierced the stillness, rising higher and higher above the iniquitous chaos.
A flash of crimson lightning split the heavens and grazed the earth with flames. The flames devoured everything, engulfing the darkness with fear and pain, agony and terror. The tiger began to tremble, shaking and breaking apart, melting and burning back together. Then, in the midst of the laughing skeletons and the fire, stood the girl. She began to float above the inferno, her arms outstretched as if to embrace the burning sky. She spoke, her words hauntingly soft and chillingly gentle. As she spoke her skin rotted away from her bones, as if from the terrible heat. In a moment she was only bloody bones and, as they fell to the ground, they made a clamorous music that rang throughout the night.
Then all was still, the darkness drenched in blood and the flower only a forgotten memory.