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I am Dark and mysterious for though the name says minister, no one knows my true nature. Am I in fact a minister, but if so what am I a minister to? you may find the answers but once you do will you survive?
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Quote
" Death is my solitary companion.
Lost souls suffer the nights with me .
They wander and roam
the corridors and castle grounds.
Their earthly remains lie buried
beneath gravestones,
yet their spirits know no rest. "
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Latest News
My new stories and such will go in my journal, for those of you that love my writing.
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The Following is a Story I wrote Enjoy:
In the early morning of a day in winter, red figure can be seen peering with curiosity into the door of an old black church. The spire of the church looms menacingly over the dreary woods, casting a spooky shadow over the trees that points a ghostly finger towards the town below.
"Hello Lithia. Whatcha looking at?"
Startled by the sound of her friend's voice so near her, the girl in red jumps a little, almost tripping over and smashing her face against the stone that makes up the church wall.
"Oh nothing...just heard some strange noises coming from the church and wanted to see what was wrong," replied Lithia. "Fancy seeing you here Betty. What are you doing here?"
The darkly-dressed girl addressing Lithia smiled a sweet smile in reply, pulling at the hem of her black dress almost nervously.
"Oh nothing. I was just inside the church and heard some rustling out here. Thought I'd come take a look."
Lithia's eyes go wide with curiousity at the news that her friend was inside the church. She begins to tremble a little with contained excitement as words begin to flood out of her mouth.
"Was there anything unusual in there? Anything interesting? It sounded a lot like people screaming or something... maybe it ghosts...or maybe it was people being tortured! Or maybe it was something else... or maybe..."
"It was probably just the wind," her companion asserts, looking down at the ground almost as if she was shy or nervous about something. "Here...why don't we go back inside and take a look? You can see for yourself."
"I don't know about that..." Lithia replies reluctantly, kicking the ground a little.
"It would be fun! Come on."
"But...But..."
Not waiting to hear another word, Betty grabs Lithia by the hand and pulls her to the door of the dark chapel, opening it and leading her inside as she continues to protest. They pass through the doors to behold the figure of a crucified Jesus above the altar of the church. A dark form sits facing the visage of Christ, drawing attention to itself by its mere presence....there's something odd about the figure....something unearthly....
Boom. The portal suddenly slams shut behind them, making Lithia jump again. She clings to her friend instinctively. Oddly, Betty isn't startled the least bit by the sight.
"Isn't that our Minister? Why's he hunched over...he seems so scary wearing those black robes instead of his white pastor's gown....Betty?"
Her darkly-clothed companion doesn't seem to hear her, or comply to her questions as she begins to walk toward the altar, Lithia's hand still in hers. Lithia tugs on her sleeve a little as she's pulled along...
"Betty? Whats wrong...let me go..."
Betty merely continues to walk on, leading her friend unwillingly up the steps towards the altar. The girl in red begins to struggle.
"Let me go! I don't want to go up there!" Lithia tries to pull her hand free, but Betty's grip merely tightens, almost vicelike, on her hand making her almost crumple to the floor in pain. The dark form looms closer and closer as the two proceed steadily up the steps...the presence of the figure grows, as does his stature...candles can be seen glowing faintly in the darkness, lining the altar. The figure seems to be holding something...and as they get closer, Lithia gets a glimpse of just what it is...and her eyes go wide.
"Hello Lithia." The Minister smiles, his eyes gleaming like fiery coals inside the hood of his cloak. His teeth flash menacingly in the candlelight...and something in his sleeve does too as he pulls out his hands...
"No... please...no...." She begins to sob, as she realizes what is about to happen.
"Shut up you pathetic wench." Betty hisses as she practically throws Lithia against the altar, her frail form resonating with power. "You are getting what you deserve. For all those years, I was powerless before you. I did whatever you told me to do because I was so weak. In school, you were always better than me. You were the talk of the town and I was the urchin scum they spit at when I walked the streets. I knew my life was meaningless from the beginning. Now everything is different." She grins. "Now I have the power and you are powerless before me. Our Honored Minister here has taught me the dark arts of his trade and with your death, I will become one of his disciples and have unlimited power! How does it feel? To know you are doomed?"
Lithia merely whimpers and averts her eyes from her former friend's visage, not daring to look as the minister pulls her up on the altar and ties her to the stone, the image of Christ overhead. He speaks some archaic words in that inhumanly deep tone of demonic power, and raises the dagger above the girl in red...
And the dagger falls, red splattered on red...
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one of my Favorite songs by Cradle of Filth
Lead to the river
Midsummer, I waved
A 'V' of black swans
On with hope to the grave
All through Red September
With skies fire-paved
I begged you appear
Like a thorn for the holy ones
Cold was my soul
Untold was the pain
I faced when you left me
A rose in the rain
So I swore to the razor
That never, enchained
Would your dark nails of faith
Be pushed through my veins again
Bared on your tomb
I am a prayer for your loneliness
And would you ever soon
Come above unto me?
For once upon a time
From the binds of your lowliness
I could always find
The right slot for your sacred key
Six feet deep is the incision
In my heart, that barless prison
Discolours all with tunnel vision
Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
Sick and weak from my condition
This lust, a vampyric addiction
To her alone in full submission
None better
Nymphetamine
Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
Nymphetamine girl
Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
My nymphetamine girl
Wracked with your charm
I am circled like prey
Back in the forest
Where whispers persuadeMore sugar trails
More white lady laid
Than pillars of salt
(Keeping Sodom at night at bay)
Fold to my arms
Hold their mesmeric sway
And dance to the moon
As we did in those golden days
Christening stars
I remember the way
We were needle and spoon
Mislaid in the burning hay
Bared on your tomb
I am a prayer for your loneliness
And would you ever soon
Come above unto me?
For once upon a time
From the binds of your lowliness
I could always find
The right slot for your sacred key
Six feet deep is the incision
In my heart, that barless prison
Discolours all with tunnel vision
Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
Sick and weak from my condition
This lust, a vampyric addiction
To her alone in full submission
None better
Nymphetamine
Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
None better
Nymphetamine
Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
Nymphetamine girl
Nymphetamine, nymphetamine
My nymphetamine girl
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This is a little poem i wrote:
Slice and Dice
Here come the blades of death,
cutting at our heads till there’s nothing left.
Ripping us apart, swing by swing.
Every time there is even a notion of uprising.
Once, sometimes twice a month comes the torture.
Making us wonder in fear, is it our turn?
When it’s time we all try to scream.
But nothing comes out, like we’re in a bad dream.
When it’s over, we pick up the pieces.
We begin reaching up again, like we’re trying to touch a God.
And like Hitler’s men, torturing the religious.
It starts again and comes for us.
I myself have been hit four times.
Every moment hurts like a hate crime.
Ripping me from my normal life.
Trying to end me like Death with his scythe.
But somehow I manage to grow again.
Like Prometheus still chained to the mountain.
I’m sure your wondering, how am I not dead?
How can someone live without a head?
Now the truth will come to pass,
every week I am mowed
for I am the grass.
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My Life as it seems
Everyone toys with me and plays with my feelings they rip and tear with no sign of regret yet it seems like i cause them great disgust in my existance I only know what a few emotions are because i know of nothing because my life hasn't had a chance to bloom like the beautiful roses outside then when winter comes they die and wilt away, my life seems to be stuck in the winter, with the cold harsh things everyone does and says to me, makes me start to wilt and die inside a little more, they tell me be happy and smile we have guests coming, i put on a fakeness that seems real then once again after everyone leaves I'm locked away back inside my asylum, where every little cut no matter how big or small is a release for me as the blood flows outward and trickles then drips down and splatters on my shoes and onto the carpet, I begin to cry but not because it hurts but from the profound joy it brings to me, I say unto myself I am their fool, the jester playing in their court without a hope of seeing true release because they say that I'm not worthy of such pleasures, so again i sit in my asylum by myself night after night longing for someone or something to release me from all this pain and misery
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Pain in Lies
I can talk
But I don’t think I will
I’m locked up in myself
And my heart is ready to spill
This silence dims my hoping
My torment adds to the pain
To think of smiling seems like joking
Nothing will ever be the same
Its your beautiful face
Its your dark blue eyes
It’s the sound of your voice
It’s the pain in my lies
And its this silence that kills
Everything that I love
I just stepped away
And left you longing for more
But now that your gone
Its me who is on the floor
Its your beautiful face
Its your dark blue eyes
It’s the sound of your voice
It’s the pain in my lies
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Eigth Level of Hell - the Malebolge!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test
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