When children die, they become birds of heaven. I sat my children free.
My forbidden fear,
I thirst to have your soul into mine and let the soulless emerge satisfy my needs. The way you act makes me feel that you are the reaper and I am the victim and this change makes me feel alive enough to happily murder.
I am not worthy of you and I hate it, for I am the rotten apple that fell for Adam to sin on and you are my heaven. The devastating purity that lays in your heart makes me want to rip it out with my bare loving hands.
I do not deserve the kindness you have to give. You, on the other hand, deserve the fire you lit in my cold body. I shall bathe in your warm blood when the time is right and that is a promise for a lover to keep.
You think I hate you because I ignore you, or is it because of my dirty looks that I give you sometimes? I look at you like that because you are above me and that admiration is killing me. The truth makes me want to curl in a corner and weep my nightmares out but I will be your best nightmare instead.
-The immortal death, your loving angel.
My grandma’s famous strawberry cookies! Mmmmm … How good and delicious! I wonder what is in them … “What is your secret recipe grandma?” “hohoho you’ll have to die to know that dear.” If only she weren’t literal. I died to know that these red lines are not strawberry. Please don’t ask her!
Closing my ears won’t help losing those loathsome voices, their laughs and ugly prayers only got louder. One day I invited them on a feast of children and sat them down on a round silver table … They all came waiting to eat, looking at me with their bulging eyes and crooked smiles. I locked the doors and white weapons were hiding in my cupboard, I opened it wide and I saw the fear in their eyes, they screamed in horror and it was pleasure to my eyes.
I brought out an axe and slaughtered them like little lamps and I did all of the nasty things they wanted me to do before. In the end, I cut them in pieces and piled their repellent parts and ripped out guts on the red table and I sat them on fire, they were the candles that lit my dinner. Mmmm spine-chilling. I am happy to say that I have never heard more than four voices again.