The
Moon's Tidal Moving
Their lair, conveniently, was underneath some river, some harbour or
some wide deep lake from whence they would, at night, sally forth as
such primal Dark Entities sallied forth, among humans, to find food for
themselves and new hosts for those Dark Daughters who watched over,
cared, for them, and there seemed little to distinguish them from
humans as they lurked in the dark shadowed places of cities and towns,
waiting.
Perhaps they did appear, to the observant, as somewhat pale of skin, as
if no sunlight had ever touched its whiteness, just as - certainly -
they were tall, if slim, by human standards with hair long blonde and
flowing, and noses fine, narrow, as if cut skilfully from the whitest
of white marble. As for their eyes, their azure brightness only changed
when, replete after their feeding, the colour became the lightest of
light purple until, their digestion of human essence complete, it
resumed its former sea-like hue. But it was their hands which, perhaps,
gave the one and only direct clue - until, that is, those hands
latched onto their human prey so easily easily disabled with a touch,
only one touch, to be dragged then still living down through water to
that damp foetid and communal lair. For their hands were thin, bony,
with fingers long for their type, of all an equal size, and with thumbs
as long as those fingers.
No one ever heard them behind or near them, as no one ever heard them
speak, and it was this - combined with their ability to blend,
shapeshiftlingly, to whatever was around - that made them, on Earth,
such successful hunters of humans among the dark shadows of that urban
night which humans in their arrogance assumed they owned.
Thus did the dried wasted now useless corpses come to line the tunnels
and chambers of their lairs, and thus did some chambers there contain
humans, captive, unseeing, but strangely sighing while the strands of
the strange living tissue that bound them, encased them and held them
tight to the ceilings, let them live, just a little if enough, until
some Dark Daughter, visiting, would choose one as some new in-dwelling
host for the life, the acausal life, she carried captured in a crystal.
There would be rewards, then, for those hunters: a joyous celebration
celebrated as such primal Dark Entities celebrated, feasting on humans
and copulating among themselves as they copulated among themselves
until repletion calmed and slept them and kept them still until the
Moon's tidal moving woke them.
Eulalia knew all this, and it pleased her, as she knew they were
breeding as they bred, there in their lairs. Now, it was time for
Ffion, her fledgling to fledge - to have his reward - and so she walked
soundlessly, as one of Baphomet's Dark Daughters might, to where he
that night,
as others in her house, lay asleep
in the arms of his lover.
A naked Idella smiled as Eulalia her beautiful youthful Mistress of
Earth entered that large
subtly-lit room of the high-ceiling to sit beside her on the bed while
Ffion slept that
sleep that often arises from sexual satiation. For Idella knew what
Eulalia had planned, and the two women kissed the kiss of lovers until,
awakened, Ffion fumbled on the small antique table by his side of the
bed
for his spectacles.
"Are you ready for your reward," Eulalia asked him while she caressed
the breasts of her lover.
"Well, yeah," a rather surprised Ffion said, assuming many things.
"No, not that," Eulalia said, intruding upon his fantasy. "There is a
gift, a precious gift, which we - which Idella - can given you, if you
are willing and ready."
"It is the gift, " Idella said, as she touched his forehead, "of a
greatly extended life. Of a thousand years, two thousand, maybe more."
"For you know now who we really are, don't you?" Eulalia directly asked
him.
"Yes. Yes, I do," Ffion said, and began to tremble, just a
little.
"Then, " Eulalia continued, "are you willingly and ready to so receive
our
gift?"
"Yes."
"You will need a new name, among us," Eulalia said.
"But I like my name," Ffion somewhat lamely protested.
"I know you do, now, and the reasons why," replied Eulalia who - to
his surprise and pleasure - kissed him, as a lover might, directly and
for some moments on
his lips, to then touch her tongue to his. "There, you see," she said,
smilingly turning toward Idella
and uncovering Ffion's erection, "he is ready for you,
again."
"He whose mothers-given name caused others, in youth, to mock - "
Idella
said, giving voice to unvoiced thoughts.
" - until inner resolve claimed him, " Eulalia continued as an echo.
"Was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich stärker," continued Idella,
vocalising again what a still silent Ffion then thought.
"Thus is he deemed ready," Eulalia said. Then, to Ffion, "And so, as
the darkness of this night seeps away as red-fingered Dawn spreads her
luteous light, shall you became as one of us, bound during your causal
life here on Earth, to dream where we dwell and dwell where we have
dreamt; to live long, healthy, strong, and to prosper as you
will."
She kissed him again then - but as sister might kiss a brother - to
leave him to the
ministrations of that Earth-dwelling human-bodied Dark Daughter
who voraciously leapt upon him as he lay, supine in her bed, to become
for
him in those moments of that forceful sexual joining everything he had
ever dreamt or desired. He surrended, then, willingly, as she - her
acausal inner essence, her dark formless un-human being - seeped into
his body, his blood, the organ that was his brain, re-ordering him as
he in his ecstasy physically spasmed beneath her to leave his body
relaxed as their grew then within that human body of his a changing, a
slightly changed,
physiology and a new small organ whose tendrils, only half of which
were causal, grew slowly, imperceptibly, out from their almost
imperceptible home beneath his cerebellum.
^^^
It was less a than a week since Patterson and Cheddon had stood on that
cobbled street in York to watch Eulalia's carefully choreographed drama
unfold, but it seemed as if that day, those memories of it, belonged to
some distant unsettling past that neither of them should desire to
dwell
upon. And yet their very human desire to not forget - as their knowing
of the immediacy and importance of Earthly-causal Time - made them
dwell, almost to the point of obsession, upon that day, especially as,
at night, no sleep came to either of them, accept in those fleeting if
seemingly long times of those dreams, those strange dreams, never
spoken about, where a naked Eulalia came unto them as they lay in their
bed to
kiss them to arouse them to suck their life, their very human essence,
away, to leave them not only as a corpse paler and gaunter than they
would have
been even if all the blood and plasma within had been somehow drained
away, but as a corpse that was somehow still mysteriously half-alive.
Thus did they - tired, almost exhausted - sit, with Beldan, in the
airless, windowless inner
room of a government department in Whitehall, waiting again for that
senior Civil Servant who had been with them, every day, since those
carefully choreographed events. And when he did arrive sporting his
colourful silk tie-of-the-day and the regulation dark suit - it was
pure
force of strong will that roused Patterson from his almost stupor.
"We have one possibly significant line of enquiry," Patterson said to
him, without preamble.
"Oh yes?"
"Yes. Cheddon here, as you know, has been liaising with GCHQ and has
been analyzing some anomalies."
"Well, we could all do with some good news, especially after
yesterday's
explosion and our inability to find let alone track this Eulalia
character. Or whatever she calls herself."
Inwardly, Patterson smiled, for the "your Unit" and "your inability..."
of previous days, had become, in the past two days, "our Unit", our
team, and "our inability..."
"It appears," Cheddon said, "that some very unusual transmissions have
been detected. Unusual because of the frequency used, because of their
content, their power, and, maybe most interesting of all, because
they're being beamed into a fixed point in Space, beyond Earth."
"And," Patterson added, "we're working here on the assumption that
these transmissions may be connected to recent events."
"Why?" the senior Civil Servant asked.
"Basically," Cheddon replied, "because they're unexplained and at the
moment inexplicable and because they do support our working assumption
about those recent events."
"The extra-terrestrial entities idea," the senior Civil Servant said,
somewhat stuffily.
"Aliens," interjected Beldan.
"Personally, I prefer to call them ETE's," Cheddon said.
"And so do I," added Patterson. "Given the nature of the events in
York, it seems a reasonable working assumption."
"You have obtained a fix on the origin of these transmissions?" the
senior Civil Servant asked.
"Not yet. But, " replied Cheddon, "I've narrowed it down to a smallish
area by the Thames, here in London. We've used what tracking facilities
are available - ground-based and satellite - and the messages don't
appear to be directed at anything we can detect. Perhaps the Americans
might help out, here?"
"Not possible, currently," the senior Civil Servant replied. "Orders
from the
PM. Keep this among ourselves. That sort of thing."
"Anyway," Patterson said, "even if those Septic Tanks agreed they
wouldn't on past form share all their info."
The senior Civil Servant pretended not to hear the remark. "Your plan?
Should you track down the source?"
"Surround. Contain. Detain."
"Unless," quipped the young Cheddon, "they get beamed-up to the
mother-ship!"
Turning to Beldan, the senior Civil Servant asked, "Any progress on the
corpse residue?"
"None," she replied. "Another unexplained anomaly. Why that individual
- "
"Creature," interrupted Patterson.
"Quite why the corpse of that individual," Beldan continued, "just
disintegrated into dust, less than an hour following death, is a
medical mystery, for the moment. Nothing like it has been reported with
any of the other
corpses so far recovered."
"Perhaps," Cheddon unhelpfully suggested, "they don't like being
restrained."
Everyone ignored him, again.
"No more reports, today?" Beldan asked the senior Civil Servant.
"No. That makes four days, this week, with no new corpses, found.
Although - " he began, then paused.
"Yes?" Beldan enquired.
"Although there has been a quite substantial increase in the number of
missing persons reported."
"Maybe, " said Cheddon, "they are being taken alive for some sinister
alien purpose."
None of them saw Beldan briefly smile, for both Cheddon and Patterson
were momentarily reclaimed by such a wistful remembering of their dream
wherein a naked Eulalia came upon them as they lay in their bed to
kiss them to arouse them to suck their life, their very human essence,
away within her, while the senior Civil Servant stood to thoughtfully,
professionally, consider what he would say in his morning meeting with
his nation's worried Prime Minister.
Thus it was that the trio departed from that windowless room of the low
ceiling to a waiting car which, escorted by armed guards, conveyed
them back to their sanctuary in the basements of some large city
building where they each returned to their tasks as red-fingered Dawn
spread her
luteous light over that city whose humans walked, slept, sat, lay,
awoke, or travelled, unaware of what the coming night would bring.
^^^
With the setting of that Sun which had warmed the air and the people
that cloudless Autumn day in the south of England, there arose a great
stirring among the denizens of those foetid underwater lairs where had
rested those hunters of humans.
Thus, attuned to the Dark Daughters who watched over,
cared, for them, they sallied forth not alone as hitherto but in feral
packs always keeping to the shadows which they enhanced or caused by
disabling or destroying those lights which lit the streets and roads of
those cities and towns and places especially chosen by Eulalia that
night. And thus it was there in those chosen places as if some dark but
purifying contagion had begun to spreadingly seep forth from riverside,
harbour or lake as whole areas become subsumed by a silent shadow
bringing such fear trembling and dread to humans and wherein humans
stupefied into silence were garnished, plucked from their lives, and
where - having served their purpose of food - they were discarded dead
to leave only corpses,
only dried corpses, paler and gaunter than they would have
been even if all the blood and plasma within them had been somehow
sucked
away.
Eulalia was there, high above one such shadowing darkness: watching
from where a large Penthouse balcony gave both fine Thames river and
city of
London views. Venora - she of the red-hair and the fullsome
body - was there, with Idella, and Ffion the newly-blooded whose hands
and arms - whose still changing body - still ached from the effort his
first three human-feedings had caused him. Thus did they, with others
of their non-human and
half-human kind, so gladfully, gleefully, watch as that uneven patch of
dark spread silently un-humanly forth from below them.
And when after long hours of terror it was over, the dark contagion
slowly silently ebbed to flow back unobserved to be back under water
where replete from their feeding a calmness came to calm, soothe,
reward, protect and sleep them until those Dark Daughters might
certainly would need them, again, to cleanse some other small places on
Earth. Then only then - when sleep became them - in areas claimed,
sanctioned, purified in presencing darkness, were sound and speech
restored to humans who there remained alive: there where corpses lay
scattered singly or had been haphazardly heaped into piles.
There was nothing no one - no human, no authority - could do, except
collect the corpses, restore the lights, and try to ease if only in
some small way the shock, the terror, and the awe. Soon, the Media -
television, radio programmes, newspapers - would be awash and bleating
with reports,
as almost as soon the government of that land, and its minions, would
be spinning yarns of its own: "According to a statement just issued by
the Prime Minister, there is no need to panic as the government has the
situation under control. At a special news conference, a spokesperson
for the Ministry of Justice announced that seventeen people - suspected
terrorists - had been arrested for their part in this nationwide
terrorist outrage where a deadly virus, released in some thirteen
cities and towns across England, is reported to have caused many
thousands of fatalities..."
But slowly, creepingly slowly, stealthily, from one human being to
another, another more terrifying story would be told, as Eulalia the
Dark Sorceress had intended, as - not that many miles from her
temporary
luxurious riverside lair - a senior Civil Servant stood with his trio
of
new friends in that windowless room of the low ceiling.
"According to information we have just received from MI6," he said to
Patterson, "there have now been a few reported cases of similar
corpses found in the United States, and a few in other countries, such
as
Egypt."
"On the scale we've seen tonight?" Beldan asked.
"No, not at all. Thankfully not. Our information indicates around only
two dozen or so, at most, in the United States."
"Everything is ready," Patterson said.
"You have the location?" the senior Civil Servant asked him.
"By the time we arrive the area will be secured. We have the authority
to proceed?"
"Yes. But only on the understanding that it is a last resort. We want
them alive."
"That may not be possible. Casualties will be kept to a minimum,"
Patterson lied. Ponti's - People Of No Tactical Importance - were
expendable, and if he had to take out the whole Apartment building, he
would.
It all went according to Patterson's careful, meticulate military plan,
so that by the time he and his Unit - with the senior Civil Servant in
tow - arrived, the new, fashionable, medium-rise, riverside Apartment
building had been swiftly and stealthily surrounded. Overhead, but not
too close, RAF fighter jets circled, missiles armed, target acquired,
while - nearby - heavy re-enforcements waited as, in distant radar and
satellite centres, operators intently listened and watched, ready for
any transmission, received or sent, and primed to relay just one word
were any such thing detected. One word, to Patterson who without
hesitation would order his pre-emptive strike.
Thus did those Special Forces troops silently enter the building. But
there were no women, armed or otherwise, who appeared, anywhere, to
oppose them as those well-trained troops skilfully threaded their way
upwards from floor to
floor. Indeed, they encountered nothing suspicious or deadly at all and
by the time Patterson and his trio had joined them they had secured all
but the uppermost floor, a suite of rooms for just the one prestigious
Apartment, furnished in the minimalist manner.
It was not bravado that led Patterson, Sig Sauer pistol in his hand, to
be first through the stairwell door, as it was not any sense of the
heroic that made him be the first to try, and to open, that Apartment
door.
Rather, it was a strange mixture of both a soldier's duty and a man's
desire. But his inner dichotomy was never put to the test, for the
place - the whole place - was silent, still, and empty. Only a vague,
subtle if somewhat intoxicating exotic scent remained, and he was
standing by the large glass doors that gave access to the balcony
overlooking the river Thames - while troopers unnecessarily and loudly
secured the other rooms - when he remembered where he had smelt, felt,
that scent before. It was Eulalia, who naked came upon him in his
nightful fitful dreams where he lay in his bed and she kissed him to
arouse him to suck his life, his very human essence,
away, to leave him not only as a corpse paler and gaunter than he
would have
been even if all the blood and plasma within had been somehow drained
away, but as a corpse that was somehow still mysteriously and longingly
half-alive.
And he was standing there, immersed in his amalgam of feelings, when
Eulalia's message began to play on the large modern
television screen attached to
one wall.
"Hello again you sexy boy! You are getting closer - but not quite close
enough, just yet," and the beautiful Eulalia mockingly but enchantingly
smiled. "As a helpful human colleague of ours once so perceptively
wrote, and do excuse my few liberties with the text. My version is so
much better, wouldn't you agree? Anyway, as you are standing
comfortably then I will begin:
It is of fundamental
importance - to your human evolution - that what is
Dark, and Sinister, is made real in a practical way, over and over
again. That is, that what is dangerous, awesome, numinous, tragic,
deadly,
terrible, terrifying and beyond the power of ordinary mortals, laws and
especially governments to control is made manifest. In effect, humans
need constantly reminding that such things still exist;
they need constantly to be brought "face-to-face", and touched, with
what
is, or appears to be, inexplicable, uncontrollable, powerful and
"evil".
They need reminding of their own mortality - of the unforeseen,
inexplicable
"powers of Fate", of the powerful forces of both "Nature" and of
Darkness. If this means
killing, wars, suffering, sacrifice, terror, disease. tragedy and
disruption,
then such things must be...
"Do you begin to comprehend, now, what this beginning of ours is partly
about? I do so hope so. Your planet is also in need of a little - how
shall I say? - house-cleaning. But enough of all this sober
governmental-type guff. You've have long hard day, haven't you,
sweetie? So relax. Enjoy. Have
a party. I do so wish I could stay, and personally entertain you, but
I'm sure you'll forgive me. Pressing matters to attend to. I know, how
awfully boring. But I will make it up to you, promise. And it will be
worth the wait, as I'm sure you are by now beginning to know. Anyway,
sweetie, bye-bye for
now!" And she blew him a kiss, and then waved at everyone before her
image was
replaced by scenes of woman remarkably similar to her making passionate
love to man remarkably similar to him, accompanied by music: a waltz by
Johann Strauss, The Younger.
Calmly, Patterson fired three rounds from his pistol at the screen,
thereby destroying it. But he could not quite escape the feeling that
Eulalia, from somewhere and somehow, was watching him, and benignly
smiling.
^^^
Anton Long
Order of Nine Angles
119 Year of Fayen
