A Scream, A Release

January 23, 2020


I am an omen. Good or
bad, exorcism quiet.

Think of me as the
right moment to

bloom into sickness –

swollen with teeth and
scars, veins full of

bone, glowing
bloody, wet with night.

A wolf.

Sarah Nichols


It is beyond dispute that Osiris made his worshipers dream strange things of him, and that he possessed their bodies and souls forever. There is a devilish wrath against mankind with which Osiris was for Death’s sake inspired. In the cool of the evening he walked among men, and upon his head was the Crown of Upper Egypt, and his cheeks were inflated with a wind that slew. His face was veiled so that no man could see it, but assuredly it was an old face, very old and dead and dry for the world was young when tall Osiris died.

Frank Belknap Long
A Visitor From Egypt

I saw him watching me in the gilded mirrors with the assessing eye of a connoisseur inspecting horseflesh, or even of a housewife in the market, inspecting cuts on the slab. I’d never seen, or else had never acknowledged, that regard of his before…When I saw him look at me with lust, I dropped my eyes but, in glancing away from him, I caught sight of myself in the mirror… I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.

Angela Carter
The Bloody Chamber

talking dirty

January 19, 2020

My first wife suffered with a form of Narratophilia. She could only orgasm by talking dirty – and I mean really dirty – during lovemaking. It was a tad disconcerting to be honest.

At that time and in that place, deep in a nearby wood, there was a slender stream which lost its way through the thick shrubbery. We would often picnic there in the summer. Taste happiness together. I have a memory of her laughter in the still air, nymph-like, quite free.

She was a crystal ball: you could see into her, but not through her. Ultimately, she wasn’t what I’d thought her to be. She was pure smoke and mirrors…But in truth was I any better? We were both so young…

Anyway, on one sundrenched day we made love beside that stream. She shrieked obscenities from her potty mouth. And, unexpectedly, I heard a woman’s voice crying out:

‘Children, children, do come away.’ Apparently, a class from the local junior school were out on a nature ramble; their teacher was busily herding them away from the two half-naked, rutting beasts at the water’s edge. ‘Don’t look children. And put your fingers in your ears…!’

How very embarrassing for all concerned.

love always hurts

January 19, 2020

You said, “There’s still time – time to change your mind.”

Remember…?

Your voice was little more than a husky whisper beside my ear. But going back wasn’t an option for me then. What was to happen was fated…inevitable. Like the sunrise or sunset.

I said, “I love you.”

And you said, “Move forward…just a little more…little more. There. I’m going to hurt you now…Hurt you a lot, because I love you. And love always hurts.”

The pain that followed my slow movement against your long body was unlike anything I’d experienced before. Hell fire would touch me less.

Agony.

And, yes, ecstasy too…

You said, “You can cry out if you wish. It’s alright. No one can hear.”

And then that exquisite, excruciating torment eased, slightly. I couldn’t breathe; couldn’t draw breath; but then I could and took short, shallow gulps of air. I realised my mouth was filled with blood where I’d bitten the right side of my cheek and my tongue.

You bent forward to look into my face and smiled. You saw the blood on my lips. Your tongue flicked over my mouth, lasciviously.

“First blood,” you whispered. “Relax for now. It’s going to be a long, long night for you…”

P

They turned her around, and the heat of the fire was against her back. A hand seized one of her breasts, a mouth fastened on the tip of the other. But suddenly she lost her balance and fell backward (supported by whose arms?), while they opened her legs and gently spread her lips. Hair grazed the insides of her thighs. She heard them saying that they would have to make her kneel down. This they did. She was extremely uncomfortable in this position, especially because they forbade her to bring her knees together and because her arms pinioned behind her forced her to lean forward. Then they let her rock back a bit, as nuns are wont to do.

“You’ve never tied her up?”

“No, never.”

“And never whipped her?”

“No, never whipped her either. But as a matter of fact…”

It was her lover speaking.

“As a matter of fact,” the other voice went on, “if you do tie her up from time to time, or whip her just a little, and she begins to like it, that’s no good either. You have to get past the pleasure stage, until you reach the stage of tears.”

Then they made O get up and were on the verge of untying her, probably in order to attach her to some pole or wall, when someone protested that he wanted to take her first, right there on the spot. So they made her kneel down again, this time with her bust on an ottoman, her hands still tied behind her, with her hips higher than her torso. Then one of the men, holding her with both his hands on her hips, plunged into her belly. He yielded to a second. The third wanted to force his way into the narrower passage and, driving hard, made her scream. When he let her go, sobbing and befouled by tears beneath her blindfold, she slipped to the floor, only to feel someone’s knees against her face, and she realized that her mouth was not to be spared. Finally they let her go, a captive clothed in tawdry finery, lying on her back in front of the fire. She could hear glasses being filled and the sound of the men drinking, and the scraping of chair. They put some more wood on the fire. All of a sudden they removed her blindfold. The large room, the walls of which were lined with bookcases, was dimly lit by a single wall lamp and by the light of the fire, which was beginning to burn more brightly. Two of the men were standing and smoking. Another was seated, a riding crop on his knees, and the one leaning over her fondling her breast was her lover. All four of them had taken her, and she had not been able to distinguish him from the others.

They explained to her that this was how it would always be, as long as she was in the château, that she would see the faces of those who violated or tormented her, but never at night, and she would never know which ones had been responsible for the worst. The same would be true when she was whipped, except that they wanted her to see herself being whipped, and so this once she would not be blindfolded. They, on the other hand, would don their masks, and she would no longer be able to tell them apart.

Pauline Réage
The Story of O

Needing pain

January 15, 2020

I need a pain to pierce
To strike me cruelly down
To rip me into myself.

Else Lasker-Schüler

Chaos
tran. Eavan Boland

I was like so bad

January 14, 2020

I was like so bad. Like
I was on the sofa with a bucket
Shit wankered man
I was like so wasted
I mean 87% shit. It was sick man
I spewed in the bath
That shit was like brown
And the towels were like everywhere and I shout
Guys! I got a surprise for you all in the bathroom!
Classic times man. And like
The sound track to that would’ve totally been Morrissey.

Becky Fawcett

Last Summer

The cove is not much visited. It is isolated, hard to reach and haunted by the restless souls of shipwrecked sailors, drowned when their vessels were torn apart on the treacherous rocks hereabouts. The story goes that on certain windswept nights a ghost ship rides the wild surf and the screams of the drowning sailors can still be heard above the roar of the tumbling waves.

On the walk to the cove we pass through a hanging river valley: it’s been cut short of sloping into the sea due to erosion of the cliffs by the wild Atlantic waves. The day is full of sun and the sea calm. The valley is rich in wildflowers and heathland butterflies. A species of wild Chamomile grows abundantly here, but is very rare throughout the rest of the UK. It is a good place to pause for a while, make love without fear of interruption, and afterwards picnic on sandwiches and champagne.

During stormy weather, sea foam is driven into the cove by the wind and vortices form against the sheer cliffs resulting in small tornadoes of sea foam. This spume at twilight resembles myriad dancing phantoms…

P

darkness

January 12, 2020

There is no darkness darker than that which can be found in the human mind.