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Dancing With Thanatos
Support pulseHEAD.com, and get some free money too. (THIS SPACE AVAILABLE)FICTION SUBMITTED BY antius777 AT 2008.11.19 04:50 PM | VIEWED 117 TIMES
CONTENT
"It really shouldn't be difficult to understand, Mother," he whispered gently as sliced out another portion of her clitoris. "I simply do as I'm told. You should remember that."
Roger carefully placed the bloody nub into the plastic bag with the other small body parts he had removed. Small treasures, each of them. He would take them home and place them with the others, the other pieces of Mother. Mother would soon be full and whole.
"You taste like sunshine," Roger cooed as he licked the dead women's seeping wounds.
The memories were coming more vividly now, more rich in detail. He could recall the gas lamps and the cobblestone streets. The sound of horse-drawn carriages and newspaper boys screaming of Whitechapel. Oh, how beautiful it was especially to remember Mother.
Mother who had sat with him oh so many times as a boy, who had taught him to read and to play croquet. Mother so full of life and beauty. How he had loved her then, then before she had taken that beast for a husband. Before she had learned to love that man more than her own son. Under him she had grown shrewish and stern, never more the kisses he had enjoyed in his youth. How he had hated his step-father Jack, how he had blamed that man for all his distraught woes. He still couldn't quite recall where he had put that despicable man's remains.
"But now I'll be special again," whispered Roger. "I'll be your special Jack."
Sometimes Roger got confused and such things made him worrisome. He would forget and call the woman who lived upstairs from him 'Mother.' What was worse, she would respond to such a glorious moniker. She was NOT Mother, no. Mother was to be reborn from the past, just as he was being instructed. Just as he was being told.
The memories had come with the voice. Remake Mother, because then she'll love you again. Remake Mother, so you can be extra special. Remake Mother, now that Jack is dead. Remake Mother, as I am now the new Jack shall there be a new Mother.
Roger/Jack was oh so excited to see Mother again. Perhaps they would dance together, Mother and he. Perhaps they would dance and love in the ways only a son and his Mother should. He would have to kill that woman upstairs who routinely questioned him, who regularly bothered him on trivial matters. He did not need two Mothers.
He thought of Mother, thought of all the wonderful times they would have together. Roger/Jack thought of her hair, of her ankles, of those peeks of her bosom when she had been dressing that once. He masturbated into his hand, his palm slick with Mother's blood and after he had spilled, licked it away clean.
"I taste like your special love," he whispered to Mother.
There was still so much to prepare for. Mother would need the most beautiful gown were she to go dancing. Something proper, something elegant.
Roger went to go search the house for some type of evening wear he deemed "appropriate" for Mother. Thoughts, those not entirely his own, guided him. He, another new scion of death, in a long lineage of those seeking Mother...
RATING: 5
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