Category: Mature content


Captaining today’s ship would be Dionysus.
Good luck.
You’d need it.


Do you ever feel like a part of you is missing? A second part that seems to hold more power, more control, more grace, more drive?
It’s like you are the passive part and this other part is the Active one…
Alice felt this way all her life. Scientific folks would have called it a trauma caused by her mother’s death in a car accident when her car was smashed by a speeding truck. The driver was not drunk or inebriated in any way.
Spiritual folks would call it an affliction, like some wrong doing must have led to this.
Nihilistic folks would rationalise it as one of those random inexplicable acts just like the daily lives of humanity.
Alice lost her dark essence at a very young age. Molested by her father, she always knew she felt pain but she couldn’t understand why. Slowly, she developed a subconscious belief that life is pain; I deserve to be hurt especially by loved ones.
She felt like if she did something to assert her presence to reality, she would be an interference to the superior humans in front of her. She repressed her dark side until she completely lost it, a slave to the nice girl role.
Alice was always the polite one and the more polite she was, the more the seniors hated her, the more her classmates made fun of her, the more she withdrew into herself
Always consumed by her tragic past, she became distracted from reality most of the time, never able to pay attention to the mundane things her fellow humans talked about. She started to grow a certain disdain for them so as to keep them away from her, lost in dreaming of her past pain.
The feeling that there was no one she could confide me in consumed her. She started to listen to the voices inside of her head and she became addicted to the sotto voco of her inner voice. The voices kept telling her the same things till she became prisoner to them. Like a junkie, she was addicted to hearing them speak and she wanted more.
Alice started to unravel taboos in her mind; she decided she needed something more stimulating to arouse her.
The darkness slowly spewed into her soul.
She finally accepted that she could never leave her painful past behind because her past was what defined who she was. She also accepted that anyone who obstructed her thoughts was her mortal enemy. She subconsciously put them in the ‘Sheep’ category in her mind, never willing or able to pay attention to anything that comes out of their mouth.
Alice used to be picked on in school until she wore her oddity on her sleeve. She used to be the kid everyone made fun of and now she was the kid everyone feared. She knew she’d never be ‘one of the guys’ no matter how hard she tried and all it took was for her to stop trying. Alice always needed her ‘thought fix’ and she used it to deflect any other thoughts that didn’t come from her own head. She felt as if the shallow minds around her harmed her own thoughts.
The darkness had risen and she had more understanding of things as they really were. She mentally played back her childhood days and how her father fondled and used her. She made the thoughts darker in her mind and she saw her small self sucking her father’s penis after which he came semen and blood on her face. She also played in her mind, him fucking her young self doggy style, ripping her hymen apart and sliding in and out with his huge cock and blood dripping from her vagina. She had learned this trick. She always exaggerated everything that happened in her mind. She had stopped running away from painful memories and started trying to see how much pain the memory could actually inflict on her.
Alice also played back the memory of her dead mother. She imagined the truck ramming into her car with tiny shards of glass piercing into her flesh after which the truck climbed on top of the car and crushed her to death. She also imagined the sympathizers to be big black men and they pulled her out the car, ripped her bloody clothes off and gang-raped her lifeless corpse.
Alice mind was consumed by one single thought and that was paying back her father. She had planned so many scenarios in her mind and one day, she finally took action. As her father came home, she stood behind the door and slammed the back of his head with a baseball bat. He was knocked unconscious.
When he woke up, he was bound in a room with no clothes on. He also saw his teenage daughter standing in front of him. She had a little pubic hair and her mammary glands were not very developed
“You like what you see daddy”
A rope with thorns was tied to his penis and if he were aroused, it would pierce into his dick and cause him to bleed.
Alice started rubbing her breasts, smiling coyly and unable to help himself, her father started getting hard. He screamed as the thorns pierced through the shaft of his penis. Alice licked her two fingers and stuck it into herself, moaning like a pornographic actress sehad studied weeks ago.
He was erect and bleeding profusely. She knelt before him and began sucking the blood that dripped. He got harder as she kept sucking it, lips slathered with blood and saliva.
“You like that daddy”
Alice then turned her back and took her father into her, the thorns still wrapped around his member. They both screamed in agony and pleasure as the thorns gripped her father’s penis tighter and ripped apart the insides of her vagina.
When she was done, she put them out of their misery.
By the time neighbours came around, they saw Alice and her dad lying dead in a pool of congealed blood.
The life is gone, another one begins to be ended in due time…
The cycle continues…
I warned you. LOL
Hope you have a great weekend!
See you on Monday!

Day 17

So it’s Monday and I know how we all love Mondays. Oh you didn’t get the memo? LOL. -_-
Yes, we love Mondays and I decided to write about something i tweeted last evening.

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.

So saw a Retweet about a Sex playlist and this shit struck me as funny. Apparently, some of you have songs you want to have sex to?
How does that work?
When do you put on the music or when is the right time to put on the music? I’m asking girls because guys don’t do that shit. (If you do, you’re gay, in which case, you’re a chic.)
Let me get this straight:
You and a dude all giggly and messing around, soon the play kisses get intense. You undress. Dude is ready to charge and you say “Hold on let me put on some music.”
You now put on some gay ass song with a gay-ass singer (Hey Trey) singing about sex and that shit supposed to be romantic?
If I were a guy, my erection would die instantly. I mean why the hell would I want to listen to some guy telling me he wants me to touch his body?
Or is it R-Kelly? What if the song you put is the guy’s fave song and dude FUCKING STARTS TO SING AND TWERK INSTEAD OF GIVING YOU SOME!!!!? WTF IS THIS?!!
Niggas be thrusting and shii and all of a sudden, a couple of other naked niggas appear and y’all break into a fucking dance. That’s what I think of when I hear ‘SEX PLAYLIST’.

How does that even work with quickies? Say he’s driving and suddenly feels the need to offload (It happens!). He parks the car and leads you into a bush.(It happens!) He’s tryna raise your skirt quickly because you’re wearing no underwear (IT BLOODY HAPPENS!) And all of a fucked-up sudden you say something like “Hold on, let me get my phone”
Mans would think you wanna put it off or something and you scroll to the Sex Playlist on your phone and click play?
If I was yo man, I’d leave your music-loving ass in that bush, walk to my car and drive off! I hope your music attracts some wild-ass animals to taste your MUSIC. LOVING. ASS! LET’S SEE HOW YOU’D LIKE THAT!

If I were to make up a sex playlist, I’d make it an Igbo traditional music. Have you heard the drums on them things? FAST!
I would expect the guy to pump in time or faster to that. Now THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.
But let’s be real, no sane guy would agree to shag to that cause his faggoty-ass don’t gat no rhythm!
That’s some hip-shaking music! That’s the way to conceive FUCKING CHAMPIONS! Hercules wasn’t conceived to bloody Akon singing ‘I just Had sex’ in the background!
If you ain’t gonna do some Igbo Heavy Metal, TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!
Let us both scream and make our own music; well in my case, you scream in pain and I scream in laughter.

The only reasonable reason I see why you’d want to play music is so no one knows what you doing. In which case, I suggest you to just put on a bloody Christian song. But you wouldn’t would you? You can’t get your groove on with Akanchawa playing in the background can you? Because it would feel like Jesus is watching yo wide, naked ass, calling some next guy yo daddy. You dirry, dirry girl!
If you wanna mask the sound so bad, listen to Celine Dion. But is that possible? I mean one minute he’s pulling your hair the next y’all are hugging and crying, singing “Every night in my dream, I see you, I feel you…”

As I said in my tweet, If you have the time to put on music, the you really aren’t horny to be frank with your thirsty-ass self. I mean it’s  a NEED! Your body is SHAKING! LIKE GRRRRRRRR AMMA GRIND THIS GUY TO THE GROUND! AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR MUSIC AT THIS POINT!
Maybe after the 15th or 16th round when his weak-ass is near death, then you can play some music to revive him, Nahwhamsaying??

If you REALLY insist on a song, I’ll recommend one. Ladies, this song would tell your man exactly what you want. I recommend this STRONGLY.

Tie me Down by Concentus.

Tie Me Down and Fuck Me (Hard)
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come tie me down – bring the cuffs (At this point his sorry-ass better be working!)

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i cry
come fuck me hard – until i’m sore (AHMEAN!!!!! PREACH!)

make me scream
make me bleed
make me scream
make me bleed 

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

come strap me down – bring the whip

come strap me in – and make me sin
come suck me dry – until i die (Ok. Pause. Dafuq…?)
come fuck me hard – until i bleed

tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – fuck me hard
tie me down – and fuck me hard

never foreplay
come on and tie me down – never foreplay (This right here is the bridge. THIS IS WHERE YOU GO FOR GOLD LIKE YOU IN DA OLYMPICS!)
come on and fuck me hard – never foreplay
come on and suck me dry – never foreplay

tie me tighter
ride me harder
ride me till i can’t speak or scream (HE BETTER OBEY DAFUGGING INSTRUCTION SISTAH!!!)

Wanna know the beauty of this song? IT’S FRIGGIN’ EIGHT MINUTES LONG! It’s long enough for a round! AND YOU CAN BLOODY PUT IT ON REPEAT!

If yo man runs outta the house clothes in hands once it starts playing, HE AIN’T MAN ENOUGH!
If he breaks up with you cos he thinks your preedy ass is psycho, HE. AIN’T. MAN. ENOUGH!

It’s that simple.

I am done.

Have a lovely Monday. I know I will…

Disclaimer: Blame this shit on Caffeine.
In case you didn’t see it the first time, bloody bat-eyes.

Day 1 – 666 Park Avenue

Another December, another 31 Days Challenge!
I’ll be putting something up every single day; tales, rants, exposés.
Decided to start this month with this story by a regular writer on P. Pages.
Dionysus is here!

666 Park Avenue

What will you give to get what you want in this life? What will you sacrifice to receive what it is you crave? Your hearts desire, Your longing? What will you do to fill that void inside of you? That deep vortex of nothingness spiraling within you, weaving its webs to entwine you in a world where getting what you want leads to the absence of wanting it? We hear stuff like selling your soul to the devil but are we to take it literally? I mean is there a real contract where someone could actually sign and lose their soul?
“Good Morning Sir. Welcome to 666 park avenue. How can I help you?”
 “Hello, erm… can I get a room please, I’m only staying for the weekend.”
 “Sure, just a minute.. Here you go sir, room 1407.. These men there will help you with your luggage”
666 Park Avenue was like no other Hotel. I would call it a 6 star hotel if there was such a word. Built by billionaire Russian oil mogul Sir Avanus Kavchenko, He aimed at creating a hotel made solely for the elite of society.
The name was no coincidence either.
Take the licentiousness of sin city (Vegas), multiply it by a 100 and 666 park avenue was what you got. His aim was to create a haven where the wealthy people of society came to indulge in whatever sick twisted fantasy they had. A place where they could actually use their money to get what it is they wanted rather than more materialistic crap to fill the void. Poor people usually cannot comprehend the sick twisted thoughts of the rich but believe me, if a wealthy man is jerking off to toad porn, he is justified. He has reached a point where he can’t feel anything anymore and the everyday life of humans has become very strange and unstimulating to him.
As they helped Jack with his luggage, he saw two smoking hot girls at the reception making out completely naked. He had seen them before on TV. They were Supermodels. They caught him staring and they both turned to look at him with smiles on their faces before they continued their make out session. As he was making his way to the elevator, he heard the sound of an animal coming from a room. As he peaked through the door, he saw a pig bound, its arms and legs tied with ropes stretching from the four ends of the room leaving it suspended in mid air. He also saw a man fucking the pig hard from behind causing it to ‘oink’ in agony. He looked into another room and saw an old woman probably in her 60’s giving fellatio to a boy that looked not older than 8 years. Jack finally reached the elevator and as he stood there with the two hefty men by his side carrying his luggage, his mind went back to the grotesque images he just saw. The elevator door closed.
“So what goes on around here?”
“What doesn’t?” The two men laughed
Jack had heard about 666 park avenue from friends. He was a young man in his early 20’s working at Wall Street. He wasn’t freaky but let’s face it, every one of us have sick twisted fantasies that play in our minds every now and then. He decided to go to 666 park avenue to see what really goes on in there, probably indulge in a fantasy of his.
As the elevator reached his floor, he could smell something pungent coming from a room. Fumes came from underneath the door and from the smell, he could tell it was a narcotic; crack, probably heroin or cocaine freebased.
“Guess who’s in that room?”
“Pastor Nolan!”
Everyone knew Pastor Nolan. He had a very big church, his congregation was huge and he had sermons broadcast on TV every Sunday.
“Wow! that’s crazy…”
“Crazy? You ain’t seen nothing yet… Here you are Sir”
“Thanks, and call me Jack”…
“Sure Jack”
As he entered the room, it was as if he traveled back in time. The room was like something from the 16th Century. The artwork was vintage, so was the furniture. There was something very gothic about the room, as if a vampire once lived there. As he entered the bedroom, he saw a very beautiful girl lying naked on the bed. She looked like a mix of Egyptian and American blood . Her skin was glowing bronze like she had a tan, long black hair covering her shoulder blades and brushing her dark perky nipples.
“Come to me baby”
Jack couldn’t help himself.
This isn’t some movie where the hero sees a hot chick naked on the bed and doesn’t fuck her. Nope it Isn’t that scene where the hero passes up free pussy just to save the day.
In reality, the day don’t need to be saved….
Jack’s boner was tugging at his trouser and he quickly took off all his clothes and dived into bed with the goddess he saw in front of him. Her smell was like sunshine and fresh gardens. Her moans made him forget every thought in his head. The touch of her flesh was so soothing and rubbery to his palms that they went over every part of her body caressing and groping. He felt so warm inside of her, the air Conditioning cooling their skins while he thrusted deep into her.
“Madeline, what goes on around here in the creeeepy 666 park avenue?”
“Anything you want baby”
“Anything is kinda nothing.. Give me an example”
She brought out a spliff from the drawer near the bed and lit it…
“What I’m saying babe is if you have the right amount of cash, you could watch Rihanna get fucked by a horse right in front of you while you jerk off”
“Haha! that’s extreme, it don’t sound possible… Gimme that”
He took a drag from the reefer
“What if I want to pee in Beyonce’s mouth?”
“That can be arranged”…
“What of Jay-Z?”
“You want him too?”
“What I’m saying is that if by some weird way he found out, won’t he be pissed?”
“There are things you don’t understand about this world dear, many things”
“Do tell, enlighten me, as it is right now, I am not leaving this room till tomorrow plus this your pot is top quality.. Where did you get it from?”
“They get it from Afghanistan. If you want some, I could get for you at the lobby”
“Nah, Later Madeline, right now, open my mind to the things which I do not understand about this world.. The many many many many things”
“L.O.L.  it ain’t a joke.. I’m serious”
“The long and short of it is that anyone you see on TV or in a magazine or you hear on radio or see in the newspaper all belong to a secret society. The owner of this hotel is a top ranking member of that society”
“The Illuminati?”
“No dear, all that Illuminati stuff is what they use to distract people from the truth”
“What truth?”
“This secret society has one aim and one aim only. To make more money. How do they do this? Turn on your Television, everything you hear and see is tailored to get you to spend your money. EVERYTHING! The party life, drinking, fucking, clubbing all day, shallow thrills are what they tell you to chase on TV. They make it seem cool to do these things but its all an illusion. Their aim is for you to spend your money. You chase that shallow life so you’re forever in a state of getting what you don’t want so you keep buying and buying and buying trying to fill the void”
“Hmmmm.. Makes a little sense. What of the Rihanna bestiality, how does that work?”
“As long as you appear in the media, the people in this secret society are free to use you for whatever they please. Yeah you see celebs with the glitz and the glamour and you’d be like ‘I want to be like them’ but honey, thats a deathwish. If Tom Cruise was needed to eat someone’s faeces, it can be arranged by this secret society. It’s in their contract. This society is free to use them for whatever they please and in return they’d give them fame, recognition and a small piece of the wealth. They are like puppeteers. Anyone right from the politicians to the president to the actors to the musicians to the pastors to the terrorists… anyone you see in the media all belong to this secret society”
“Yeah.. There are many rich folks underground who prefer to stay incognito. These folks don’t give to charity so they have excess cash floating around. If they consult the secret society, they can make all their fantasies come true with the right amount of money. Even celeb deaths are preplanned. A customer might decide he wants to kill a celebrity for kicks. If he pays, they allow him to do whatever he pleases with the celebrity. The agreement in the contract states that he must kill the celeb when he is done. When you hear of the death of a celebrity on the news, the story is fake and scripted. The celeb died at the hands of a rich customer in some secret chamber probably weeks before you heard it on the news.. Tupac, Aaliyah, Lisa Left eye Lopes, Biggie, Heath Ledger, MJ, They all died in the chamber and how the media told us they died is a sham”
“This is a lot to process.. Its either you’re really stoned or you’re making a lot of sense”
“Both! I’m telling you the truth. I’m not supposed to but I don’t know why I feel the need to tell you…”
“So how much will it take for me to sodomize Beyonce?”
“That’ll be around $200 million”
“For a night?”
“That expensive?”
“Dude a particular guy paid close to that amount for Kim Kardashian 3 times .. God knows what he did with her”
“You surprised? Of all the girls, are you surprised Kim is part of the society.. You seen her sextape? That was some gay Korean dude who paid the secret society cause he wanted to see RayJ’s cock. When the other members of the society saw the tape, Kim was immediately noticed for her fat ass. They paid good money for her. She’s one of those girls who has taken it in all holes and I’m not just talking about the ones she uses to ‘pee’ and ‘poo’
“Hahaha! SHit… Fucking hilarious! I think I’m gonna pass out from this herb though.. It’s gonna be a fun day tomorrow… Goodnight.
He woke up and she was gone. There was a note on the pillow where she slept.
“Follow the Yellow Brick Road”
Jack woke up refreshed on a Saturday morning, ready to explore what 666 park avenue had in store for him. Not wasting any time, he got up and began his journey….
Trivia – The title 666 park avenue is from a recent TV series that got scraped from ABC


Tomorrow, No idea what will come up! Lol.
Just a general consensus. What would you like me to talk about?
Give me your ideas in the Comment section and ifit’s wacky/sensible enough, I’ll do it and credit the post of the day to you!

Have a lovely day!

*Schedules post.*


Hey guys!
Today’s post was written as a gift to me by someone I’ll call M.
Yes, I’m keeping his/her identity safe.
Loved it a lot and decided to share.


They’ve got it all wrong.
Trust me, I know.
They say the lady in red, but nothing says “SLUT” like a strapless little black dress.
I’ve got to dress the part, you know; live up to my reputation. Black platforms heels, black fishnet tights, black dress well above the knee, raven hair.
The only concession I give to your misguided assumptions is blood red lips. I walk into a room, this time a friend’s father’s 70th birthday and they turn. All of them, men, and women, even the ones who have one type of genital but covet another. They can sense what I am; I ooze it, like a pungent odor. No, not sex, or even sexuality. It’s something far more nauseating yet just as glamorous. A lack of moral is what they sense in me. They know I’d spread my legs for every single one of them, not necessarily one after the other. They can sense that I wouldn’t mind choking on a penis or two or ten, lapping up a vagina, probably won’t even swat away a mobile phone used as an amateur video camera. As I walk around the room, champagne flute wedged between my fore and middle finger, the responses I get from you all is priceless. The opportunists are drawing closer to me, finding ways to intersect my path, a quick and easy ice breaker. I avoid them, deftly turning at a tangent just before they can approach. The thrill of the hunt is everything to someone like me.
Some of you shrink away as I approach, the disgust on your faces intoxicates me, and I stray a little closer than I should, close enough for my perfume to make you swoon in spite of yourself. Pitiful, even with your hate, you can’t help how your body betrays you and lusts after the abomination that I am. I pick the most disgusted out of all of you, the slightly older woman, probably 40 in the dress that sweeps the floor as she walks. She’s been clucking all evening, whispering and pointing at my ass. I’ve seen her fingers tighten around the ugly square glass tumbler that holds her alcohol free cranberry juice as her eyes linger on the swell of my barely clad breasts. I could seduce her, she’s halfway there already, but where’s the fun in that? I scan the room for her teenage son and make my way towards him. He can’t be older than seventeen. I catch his eye; my lips spread in a suggestive smile. He smiles back and walks towards me as his mother’s face, the template for half of the room contorts into a mask of disgust. Good thing you rich people teach your children assertiveness really early. As you all suspect, I’ll be spreading my legs open for him tonight, if I want it bad enough, in the backseat of his mother’s car just outside this house. I don’t really care what you think, but if it makes you feel any better, “It’s not his fault, it’s all on me.”
Does it really matter how many men and women I fuck? Not unless they’re your husband, or boyfriend or best friend or girlfriend or wife. Oh, in that case, it does matter to you. Perhaps I should apologize, but what good would that do? I have already slept with them, and if the opportunity presents itself again now that I know, I’m not exactly sure I would refuse. So I’ll oblige you and do the next best thing. I’ll rescind my ‘Fuck You’ policy and explain myself.

Trust me, it’s really that simple. I like the thrill of sex, and the chase before it. I love the way you watch me walk, and I exaggerate the roll of my hips just for you. My skin only tingles when you touch it, but never much as when you peel my slutty dress off me. My only pleasures are the anticipation of a new lover and no strings attached sex and no I’m not giving either up, for anything. In your world where religion and ‘morality’ and everything else scream love and monogamy, I have become vilified for taking what I want and not being a hypocrite about it. What I’m not really sure of is this, is it because I fuck or because I am a woman? I could travel the gender equality route, but I’m a simpler girl. I just want to fuck undisturbed. No, I wasn’t molested by father as a little girl, I just love to fuck. No, my first boyfriend didn’t break my heart by sleeping with my best friend, I shattered his by sleeping with his brother, and I still love to fuck. I don’t have an Electra complex, no hormonal imbalance or disassociative disorders or need to reconnect with my inner child. Are you even listening to me? I just love to fuck. It honestly is that simple.
I know I haven’t really been that helpful, and my explanation doesn’t really give you anything you can use to understand and help me. I apologize for that. It’s hard to get through to you too, you never listen.

There is one way you can help me. A way so ridiculously simple, that you’ll probably smack yourself for not thinking of it first.
Here it is:
See, I said it was ridiculously simple. If you see me coming, turn away, distract yourself with something else. Cross the road if you have to; just stay out of my way. I could have said leave me alone, but that is passive. Staying out of my way is something you have to consciously do every day. Leaving me alone is not enough; you have to actively keep what you cherish out of my way. Your son, your husband, that girl you’re secretly admiring? Keep them out of my way, and if you can’t do that, teach them to leave me alone. Because if he/she so much as smiles suggestively at me, I’m going to end up in their bed and we will be back where we started. I know you don’t want that, so you know what you have to do. One more thing, when you lie in your bed alone at night and finally let yourself fantasize about that person around whom you had to suppress your animalistic urges to tear your clothes off and fuck shamelessly; remember me, I’m living your hidden ‘ugly’ fantasies. 
I am without remorse, what you call a slut.



*set to In The End by Vanessa Carlton*

The keys black and white, like him and her.

His ochre skin glistened with sweat as he thrust into her, over and over. She arched her back into him, crying furiously as he took her. She wrapped her hand around his neck and squeezed, her wiry fingers compressing his windpipe with unnatural strength. Her eyes were sad, but they shone with a preternatural light as his thrusts intensified with the tightening of her fingers. He began to gasp as her body began to spasm under him and he buried himself deep into her, his outstretched arms  rested on flat palms on either side of her face. In a mindless lust filled haze, she bucked and was rewarded with a resounding snap. His head lolled and his arms gave way, his naked body collapsing onto hers. She wrapped her hands around his torso and cried softly, the relief of taking a life washing over her, silently savouring the warmth leave his body and the gentle weight that slowly grew on her as his blood stopped to flow and his limbs turned to lead.

It took ten minutes for his body to transmute from healthy ochre to a sickly ash and she laid under him through it all, arms wrapped around his neck, legs spread beneath him. With some effort she crawled out from under him, the smell of death upon her. It is just as it should be, she thought to herself, walking through the dimly lit belfry towards the little square of light cast by the moon through the stained glass window. The kaleidoscope of colours bathed her pale skin in the glorious hues, a mockery of the blackness she was inside. Her youthful skin, milky white in spite of the years she spent in the desert sun, playing away the beautiful concertos that she had longed to play in the darkened halls with beautiful high ceilings. Her breasts blue and yellow from the light cast by the robes and cherubic face of the Christ child, they had stayed small as they were when He first fondled them in that back alley, when he made her spirit soar and her skin flush with light and her womb bloom with his seed. Her flat belly was the cream of the sheep that lay beside the manger, the fertile pudgy sheep that bowed its head in adoration of the child. Hers would never rise, never. He’d taken that from her because she took his seed away from him. The only thing that continued to thrive was her raven hair falling to her plump buttocks, hiding the scars of her trysts with Him as He prod her over and over, every season she sook him out to lay with her.  He’d obliged her each time, but he forbade her to look upon his beautiful face, bent her over and took her, sinking his claws into the small of her back and raking deep gouges that took a year to heal. He thought he was punishing her, but she knew better, he was the only one who could hurt her and pain was better than the numbness she felt.

He would ask her to play for Him wherever they met, in a crowded market or a dingy slum or an upscale hotel. It never mattered to him how many would die after. It never did.

“I have missed my violin, Tana.” He would say. “Play me a little piece? I want to hear if he has been tuned and oiled like you promised.”

She would play, from mournful to joyous, from jubilant to brooding, astute to languid, and they paused  where the music carried. Young, old, beautiful, juvenile; it didn’t matter to Tana Brooks’ violin. They would stop in their tracks and gather around her, transfixed by the sounds her bow wrought. He would disappear into the mist as he always did, smiling at his creation. She would play as long as they wished her to, minutes, hours, even days. She would tap out melodies that reminded suited business men of their childhood dancing to folk songs and they would dance in helpless abandon while she cried for now she was so in tune with the violin she could see the deaths that would come for them. Eventually they would all get sated with her and as a swarm they would disappear to their deaths and leave her with the burden of being judge and executioner. And she would disappear until, her scars healed and compulsion drew her to seek Belial again.

“Doh! Doh! Doh!” came the melodious whisper from the aged piano in the corner. Tana shook herself from her reverie and noticed the light was much stronger now; she had stood there for hours. She turned to the sound and a smile parted her lips. Ashy and stiff, he perched naked on the tiny stool that faithfully stood beside the crumbling piano hidden in the darkened corner of the room, his frozen fingers picking notes of a child’s lullaby. His neck jutted out an angle and his glassy eyes stared into the dark but he didn’t need to see the keys to play. She stood in the light and watched in awe as his skin regained its lustre and his joints became fluid once again, his neck slowly inching its way back up, righting his head full of curly hair. She saw it every other night, but each time he rose from where they had coupled and healed, it awed her over again. He turned his now straight head at her and smiled ruefully, seguing from the jaunty march he had been playing into a languid waltz. Play with me, his eyes pleaded.

Tana picked her violin from where she’d laid it by the window sill and tightened the frogs. She tested a few notes ensuring her notes rang true to his, and plunged herself into the music; following his lead, complementing his dips and shoring the silences between his transitions. They played so beautifully, two angels of death, harbingers of doom, cursed by their chance meetings with Lilith and Belial to wreak death in all they did. She played the half tones that her heart had longed to sing and the dirges she couldn’t play at the funerals of all the people she’d loved from afar and watched slip into darkness and he played the grand hymns he had dreamed of subsuming himself in at the cathedral where he had grown up, on the colossus of an organ behind which he had prayed for eighteen years tightening screws and waiting for his turn to glory in its melodies. Lilith found him and cursed his eyes to stay forever open and his hands to freeze in death each time he ever played for another’s entertainment, she’d taken all he cared for away from him on a petulant whim.  She was his salvation and he her companion, the perfect waltz, the girl on the violin and the boy on the piano.


This piece was written in 45 minutes as an imagined sequel to the  epic Girl On The Violin (read it here) set to the haunting song In the End by Vanessa Carlton. Our boy on the piano is none other than Johnny Depp. I hope I did justice to Tana Brooks. Shalom.

Guilty Pleasures

Phantom P: Since my mind is closed for repairs, i wont be able to write much for now! That being said, my ever ready co-writers would be filling in for me with their pieces. From the mind that brought you ‘Swan Song’ and ‘Black Maiden’, Ladies and Gents, Bamidele Newton!

Newton: I wanted to write this as a poem but couldn’t get my head around the lines.



So I write it the way I feel and right now all I really need is a priest to confess to, but unfortunately I’m no catholic. I was brought up believing that only God can forgive sins, but it so scary that He is so big and far off, the idea of an anonymous person seems so real and better; so let me do it the proper way.

“Father I have sinned”

Then I can get to tell him all I had done. And he tells me to do penance for my sins and literally my burdens are lifted from my shoulders and I am free. After I’m gone, the priest sits down and recounts my story he is bound by confidentiality not to tell. But how can he keep such story in his head and not go insane? Even he could not believe the story even though it dripped with sincerity and truth. To avoid losing his mind over this he wrote my story in his journal. Later that year, by mistake, that journal got into the hands of someone who told someone who later told another someone the things I did that night and since it has become public knowledge I want to sue the church and the priest for breach of confidentiality.
Now I stand in the witness-box in court, having just been examined by my counsel. I am being cross-examined by their lawyer and he asks me one question “What happened before the confession?” My counsel shouts “Objection my Lord “On what ground?” asks the judge “This is not in issue my lord” and their counsel says“My lord but it is relevant”
“Objection overruled, witness you have to answer that question”
Then and there I Knew my life would never remain the same.
“Let me start from the very beginning” I say.

Monday 24th, January 2008
On this day I was still married and I can still tell that, I was happy with my marriage. The only problem was that I got married to a “stiff board”. Nothing I did on our matrimonial bed ignited any fire within her; it was like making love to the bed. Correction, even the bed would have groaned. Not my wife. In this age of sexual orientation and experimentation, all we did was the archaic and forgotten missionary style. That is what you get for marrying a virgin, but since I got satisfied. I didn’t think of it; she was the money bag in the house after all. She gets a fat cheque eery month and to her credit. she is a very good and loving wife.
My life changed, when on this day I got to work and I found out that the management had deemed it fit to change  my secretary who was over 50 years of age and who reminds me constantly of my wife with someone named Susan who I believed would be as inefficient as the common name she bore. The first sight I had of her was my doom because she was bent over on my desk with her behind facing the door, and by jove, she was wearing the most flesh hugging skirt I had ever seen! With a dangerous slit going up to her thighs, Jove that was the longest, freshest piece of leg I had seen and all I could think of was taking her there and then. Maybe I had groaned or made a noise because she turned around and I was assaulted with the sight of heaven and my heart stopped beating in my chest.
“I am Susan” she said, “Can I get your suit or would you prefer coffee first?”
And since then I had to walk around the office with a bag in front of me to cover my constant disturbance. She psychologically assaulted me in every way you can imagine until all I could think of was having sex with her. All that was keeping me was the opportunity; either fate wanted to take a shit on me or just wanted to fuck me, it presented me with a bizarre opportunity.

3rd of May, 2008.
Because we had to work late into the night, we were the last in the office building. By then, she was just like the girl of your fantasy you would not meet. We were in the elevator about to leave when there was a power outage; convenient. The last thing I rationally remembered was she holding my hands in fear of the dark and I held her close to soothe her fears. The things she did to me that night are things I can’t say in public because it would offend public morality. After that day nothing mattered anymore, we did it anywhere and everywhere. It didn’t matter as long as the opportunity presented itself. Sometimes I had to take official matters out of the state and I would make sure she went along so she could please me in ways I had never imagined possible. I couldn’t get enough of her! She called me sometimes in the middle of the night, asking me to come over to her house. It was dangerous and risky but it excited me like crazy. She called my phone when she knew my wife would be in earshot and told me dirty things she was doing to herself. It was like introduction to heroine and I just got hooked on it. She was all that mattered and I was ready to give up all for her sake. I changed my will and most of my personal things were put in her name I was not in love people, I was way past love. I worshipped the ground she walked on. Things were fine until she got pregnant and wanted to move into my matrimonial home with me. All these while, my wife and I had been cohabitating under the same roof with no intimate moments between us. I knew bringing in Susan into the house would  be asking for trouble and I tried talking her out of it but she would not listen. Then I thought and weighed it, sex and a good life with my wife, and even though the former was more tempting, I picked the latter and broke everything with Susan going back to my boring prude of a wife.

24th of December, 2008.
I was with my wife having dinner when the door bell rang. I got the door and without a thought, opened up. The next thing I knew, I was shoved into my house and there i was, staring into the empty eyes of a double-barreled gun. The holder was one tall brutish looking man; three other men strode in and last to come in was my worst nightmare and by jove, was she sexy! To cut the long story short my wife was raped brutally and killed in my presence. “You left me for your wife. Now that she is dead, would you marry me?”
“Father I have sinned. I married the woman who killed my wife.”

The court was stunned into silence.



This is a continuation of the popular supernatural thriller Incubus ( written by @edgothboy and myself @weird_oo. For those who have problems with lengthy pieces, please patience! You won’t regret it! Enjoy! 

*cue in thunder claps and lightning strikes*

Dark, damp, mildewed cuffs. He sniffs around, smells crickets copulating in the rafters. Clumps of matted dirty hair covers his face hiding a crooked nose broken during a football match and lips once the colour of blushing cheeks. The smell of brimstone fills the air and masks the stench from his own skin. And many days have passed, so many days. He knows because this pack of rats are the 22nd generation to descend from those three he first caught and bent to his will. They are scampering to him now, squeaking happily that their master is lucid enough to turn his attention to them. He pets each one gently, feeling their ribs and undersides, sorting through for the most robust one. When he finds one that satisfies him, he clutches it with blackened sharp nails and bites into it with yellowed teeth lined with rusty braces. The others flee, spurred by its death squeal, leaving their master to feast in blissful silence.


‘Ow! You’re squeezing the breath out of me.”

“Well, it’s a corset. That’s what it does.”

“Oh forget it, I’ll just wear my sundress.”

The blonde walks to her closet and sorts out a lavender chiffon dress from rack filled with floaty summer dresses, tank tops and jeans. The brunette sits on the bed in bum shorts and an oversized tee wrapping the laces around a midnight blue corset. The room is typical of any 17-year-old girl. Posters of band boys on the pink walls, a collection of dolls and stuffed animals lining shelves, two instruments cases lying against the wall, opened books on the study table.

“Why do you always have to dress so girly all the time, a little sex appeal wouldn’t kill you.” says the brunette to the blonde.

“Not everyone has purr-fect thighs and shoulders Leanne. Dresses work best for me.”

Leanne shrugs. “Whatev’s Jaime. More guys for me.”

Jaime slides the dress down her tiny frame and eases into flip-flops. “New mall or old mall?”

“New mall. That new arcade they opened there must be crawling with boys by now. This get up can’t go to waste.”

That draws a laugh out of the blonde and before long the brunette joins in. They file out of the bedroom in stitches and the blonde slams the door shut, the consequential gust of wind blowing out the single black candle on the bedside table, set in the middle of a pentagram shaped saucer carved with arcane symbols.


He feels another one coming, forcing its way up from the bowels of hell, looking for a way to manifest itself. The residual energies from all the others throb in him, like the discarded lizard tail thrashing in protest at being sacrificed. He silences them with a gesture. He clears his mind, blocks out every straying thought. A blank canvas for the onslaught. He senses the being notice him, see his potential as a vessel. It sends a tendril of consciousness at him, pokes for resistance. It is not unlike being sodomised with a hot poker. He sweats from the exertion it takes not to panic and resist. Not that it would help if he tried. The being is amused, a voluntary subject is something it’s never come across before. It greedily crams in as much of itself as it can, distorting the vessel’s body with the sheer power of its malevolence.

Eventually it opens eyes burning red and peers at the filth of its surroundings. It sees a few dozen black candles burnt down to wax puddles and a little menagerie of effigies; pentagrams and arcana etched on the walls and the floor in dried blood. It reads a few lines, they all say the same, summons to the host above and below. No wonder it felt drawn here. It sniffs around and senses warm bodies above it, moving around, oblivious to its presence. It senses burrowing creatures all around, scratching and sniffing and burying nuts in well used burrows. It awaits the presence of the person who summoned it. Someone that versed in the enochian tongue would be a more suitable vessel for its purposes. No one comes. No bother, this body will do for now. It tries to move and falters when the chains shackling its vessel snap taut. It tries to break them but they don’t so much as crack. Only then does it notices the blessings spelled onto the chains, the ends of which are buried in the concrete floor made with holy water and consecrated sand. They burn so painfully, and blind its sense of reason. It panics and tries to force more of itself into the vessel but He is saturated. It tries to withdraw itself back to its plane but the vessel revolts and holds it to his will, resists its exit. It keens and causes sores to manifest on the vessel, painful diseased sores that would kill a smaller man but the vessel holds on undeterred. It makes the vessel’s eyes bleed with pus, his tongue swell and his stomach churn but even doubled over and retching the vessel holds on; closing up his body imposing his will on it like a prison cell. It feels itself weakening,  falling under this single-minded, implacable will and it relinquishes control over the part of itself in the vessel and descends back to the pit diminished. He cleans the spittle from his lips and stands slowly. Already, the part of the pestilence demon subdued and captured has joined itself to his will and the sores close up one by one to reveal fresh white skin.  blemished only by the months of grime. He looks at the gibberish on the walls as he has done a million times before, only this time its different; this time he can comprehend the words…


They stroll around the mall, arms linked, giggling at ogling boys and fuming girlfriends. Jaime swings a bag of lingerie in her free hand and checks her lipstick in the display window of a shoe store. The arcade store isn’t opened and the girls are bored.

“Lets go home.” says Leanne. “I don’t want to max out my credit card again. And all these sales are so tempting.”

Jaime shrugs. She has unlimited credit on hers, daddy’s girl gets whatever she wants if the grades stay up. She scrolls down her shopping list and gasps.

“We forgot to get supplies from the warehouse.”

Leanne smacks her head. “Let’s hurry. Those people are like so irresponsible.”

The warehouse has plastic spiders and papier-mache skeletons as part of its decor. The teenage attendant is about to hang the closed sign when the girls burst in out of breath.

The attendant beams. He knows them well, some days they are the reason he even makes a single sale.

“Hey, Joey,” says Jaime in between gasps, holding out a matt black credit card. “Can we get 20 black candles, non scented, 10 pentagram saucers, a plastic Ouija board, and two fairy costumes, one black, one white in medium.”

“Oh, and a gallon of prepackaged holy water.” Leanne adds. “We’re throwing another goth rave.”

With a flourish, Joey presents their purchases already wrapped and bagged. Leanne collects the bag and flashes him a genuine smile. He practically skips to the storeroom to get the holy water. He’s always surprised by how many people come in wanting ‘authentic’ Halloween items.

Jaime takes the plastic bottle from him and plants a flirtatious kiss on him before snatching her card from between his fingers. Both girls giggle as they exit the cobwebbed door, leaving behind an awestruck Joey. ‘I’d do ANYTHING  for them,’ he thinks to himself; ‘if they’d only ask.’


He can See them floating down the stairs in their chiffon dresses, one white, the other black, their arms filled with tomes and candles. They flit into the room on tip-toe, ignoring the filth and squalor. He feels nothing anymore for them, he barely even remembers why they were friends in the first place. The voices in his head baying for blood make his skin crawl and his mouth water with anticipation. They argue in the corner about who’s gonna fuck him this time.

‘Last time I did I was sore for a week.’ says Leanne. ‘He’s changed. Things weren’t supposed to go this far.”

Jaime scoffs. “You know I’m on my period, and you’re ovulating. This is the summer solstice. The Wicca for dummies handbook says this is the best chance for a union between avatars of Pan and Gaea. He obviously has been visited by Pan again. Or you don’t want to have the next Johnny Depp anymore?”

Leanne purses her lips and pretends to consider it. At last she gives a little nod.

‘Come closer’ he thinks feverishly, ‘Come closer’


They anchor new candles on the stumps of the old, avoiding his delusional gaze until they are ready. That was the plan anyway. They jump in fright when he speaks. Jamie clutches Leanne.

“Did he just speak to us? He doesn’t do that?” she whispers.

He clears his throat “Umm, ladies? Yeah I can hear you.” They step back quickly, stopping well away from his reach.

With difficulty, he shows them his empty hands.

“Please. Stay. I didn’t mean to frighten beautiful damsels such as yourselves. Please. Let’s talk.”

They stare at each other, curiosity playing on their pretty faces. They clear a space, keeping their distance from him and without ceremony, sit down. Silence ensues,  measured by the erratic squeaks of his fellow inhabitants. The soft yellow glow of the black candles exaggerates their sizes, casting long shadows on the walls.

Leanne is the first to speak. “Uhm, Ok. How come…?” She waves her hand vaguely.

“I can speak? I’m being coherent?”

They nod, folding their arms tentatively.

“Well my pretties, I have no idea. All I can say is that a few minutes ago, I was able to suppress a demon from taking total control of my body. The price of victory it seems, is my sanity.”

Jaime mouths ‘Pan?’ to Leanne who responds with a defeatist shrug.

Jaime opens her mouth to ask a question but before she voices it out, he raises a grimy finger to his lips, a plea for silence.

“You’ve asked one. Let me ask mine. That way no one dominates this ‘conference’ Ok?”

Mutters of “Sure”, “Go on”.

“What exactly is my purpose here?” He eyes them closely. Jamie raises up her hand, like she’s in class.



“Yes, Jaime. Answer”

“Well..”She begins twirling her hands shyly. “You have the mark on you. You are chosen of Pan. And..we..we are the chalice of Gaea. We are Wiccans. And well…your seed, poured into our wombs would bring about the birth of ‘The Chosen’.

“The chosen?”

This time Leanne raises her finger up.

“Nah ah! You’ve asked a question. Now its ours turn.”

A sudden bark of laughter, yellow teeth glimmering with a coat of spittle.

“Sharp. Very sharp. Ok…”


“Leanne, pretty name. Ask on!”

Leanne exchanges a look with Jaime and leans forward. The now exposed bra doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You say you are possessed by a demon and you somehow made it your bitch, and you are now the true incarnate of Pan. This is my question, doesn’t it sound a little too Lord of the rings?”

He nods.

“First, you suggested Pan. I didn’t. I said a ‘demon’. Secondly, if I can recall my mythology, Pan is well-known for his sexual prowess. You ladies are welcome to check for yourselves, the state of my phallus.” His use of the word ‘phallus’ drives the girls into fits of giggles.

“My turn to ask.”

They nod in tandem.

“Surely, many other ‘Wiccans’ would have attempted this experiment. What makes you think yours will work?”

“Well…” Jaime again. “Pan is reborn every century. And there can only be one vessel of Pan. And for this century, you are IT. Your birthmark confirms it. So our ‘experiment’ must work!”

She smiles coquettishly and earns herself a rogue grin from him.

“Ok ladies, no more questions. I have a request to make of you.

He motions with his hand for them to draw closer. With a slight hesitation and exchanged looks, they draw nearer.

“Would it be possible for me to get a sponge bath?” He whispers slyly, watching their pale cheeks flush with lust.

They giggle behind their hands.

“Sure!” Leanne quips with a sleazy smile “We’ll wash you good.”

Jaime playfully punches her hand as they leave him laughing, as they mount the stairs.


He watches them leave, his face blank. Slowly he licks his lips with a dry tongue.

“Yes my beauties.” He mutters to himself, “a bath and then, a meal.”


“Should we get him a change of clothes?”

“Change of clothes?? Come on Jaime! That would be giving him the idea that he’s free to go. Remember we can’t free him until one of us…”

“Or both.”

“Yeah or both of us are pregnant. That way we know he can’t fertilize any other acolyte of Gaea.”

Jaime falls on the bed, gazing at the ceiling.

“He was so cute when we first brought him here. Can’t wait to see his real face underneath the grime. Oh and to fuck him!”

Leanne throws Jaime a stern glare from where she’s seated. “I thought you were on your period?”

Jaime reddens. “Lied. Sorry. Ovulating as well.”

Leanne shakes her head. “Liar.”

“Hey! You lie too! Remember that time you said you didn’t kiss that guy at the arcades, but you did!” She sticks out her tongue at her friend

“Whatev’s! Since we both ovulating, let’s have a threesome.” Leanne says wickedly.

Jaime’s eyes widen. She sits up.

“How would that work though?”

“We’d obviously mount him one after the other!”

Jaime giggles, then frowns. “What if he says no?”

Leanne smiles, deftly changes the topic.

“Let’s go draw up water and get him ready quick.”


His skin prickles with energy as they undress him, tattered shirt first. He closes his eyes, willing himself to resist the urge to drain them of their life’s essence right then.

‘In due time. First a bath, then a meal’

His eyes open when he hears them giggle. They have removed his filthy trousers, admiring his member, a sleeping lion resting in its bushes.

The one called Leanne whispers something into the other’s ear.

More giggles.

“Ladies, the solstice doesn’t last forever.”

“Sorry! We’ll begin immediately!”

He closes his eyes, relishing the feel of warm water and soap on his skin.

A little smile plays on his lips as he sighs in bliss.

“Feeling good?” Leanne croons, nibbling slightly on his now pink earlobe.

“Concentrate!” Jaime rebukes Leanne fiercely, pinching her.

“Ow! That hurt you know!”

“Good. Trim his beard while I wash underneath his thighs.”

“Should I stand? That would make everything easier”

And without waiting for a response, he gets up.

Together, they scrub; one in front, one at the back.


The demon is attracted by the scent of new, young bodies. He sits dormant, watching the proceeding through the eyes of his master, bidding his time in silence.


“All done!” They chorus in a sing-song voice.

Leanne pretends to relight candles, leaving Jaime to deal with disposing the dirty water.

As soon as she disappears up the stairs, Leanne saunters to him, grasping his heavy organ in a firm grip.

“Tool worthy of the Pan god himself.” she enthuses with a sensual slur, drawing closer until their lips almost touch.

Lightly, she flicks her tongue, licks his lips.

He watches her through hooded eyes saying nothing.

‘Bath…pleasure and then meal’

He smiles dangerously and he encircles her waist with manacled hands, drawing her into him.

“You play a convincing ingenuè but I can tell you’re no innocent.” He murmurs as he slowly kisses her neck.

The trance is broken when Jaime comes down.

Leanne steps out of his embrace, smiling.

“Jaime, let’s clear up this place a bit before we begin.” she says turning to her friend as she steps into view.



He stands, arms to side, watching their feeble attempt to put order into his makeshift home.

‘Easier to imbibe them into me in their throes of passion. No resistance. Bath. Pleasure. Meal’


They sit cross-legged, holding hands. In between them is a lone black candle on a hastily drawn pentagram. Hush falls as they begin their chanting. Even the rodents reverently cease their noisy foraging. Their uncluttered senses feel the sudden surge of cosmic energies. They sit in their hiding places, viewing the spectacle, fearful for their master.


He understands their words. He feels the change as the goddess of the Earth herself is summoned. He sees Her. Her glamour of invisibility does not cloud his eyes. He holds his breath in wonder. Gaea. Her hair, crowned with the most colourful of butterflies,is the green of lush grass, rested on a soft white face. Green eyes that glitters like the diamonds of the heavens and rosebud lips, plump and red. Supple breasts swinging as she encircles her children with her long limbs. Flowers sprout from within her thighs, covering her sex. His lust is stoked, a scorching sensation in his loins.

She disappears and the two girls stand, slowly undress each other. Hand in hand they approach him, encircle his body in their embrace.

“Today, you give to Mother, a seed.” Leanne whispers as she slowly she takes hold of his throbbing phallus. She kneels and with her mouth, pays homage to the god that is Pan.


The demon is quickened by the lust magic, watching as his host mounts one acolyte while suckling on the other, extracting her female juices with his fingers.

Not yet time.


With each thrust, he feels their heightened energies hum with life, begging to be taken. He increases his soul presence, engulfing them with his lust and in satisfaction, reveling in their frenzied cries of pleasure.

They both reach climax and with a smile, he absorbs their energies without restraint.


The demon strikes.

His host forgets that by absorbing them, he himself, for that brief moment, is completely vulnerable. Without hesitation, the demon forces his whole being into the man, crushing any will to resist. In total control, the demon wraps his sinewy hands around Jaime’s neck and squeezes powerfully, watching in perverted delight as she dies, still shuddering at the height of her orgasm. He grins in pleasure. The demon forces itself out of the man through his ejaculation, into the acolyte, Leanne. The trauma of its exit is too much for the  weakened husk of its former vessel and he exhales his last tortured breath…


Leanne screams in blind terror as pain burns through her nerves. She gasps and falls to the floor, writhing as visions flit through her mind. Visions of the creation and banishment of the demon, acts of heart-rending evil at its behest, the demon’s true form…

Suddenly, the writhing ebbs. It opens her eyes, red as blood in the candle light and takes in the scene littered with dead bodies, sputtering candles and phallic effigies.

It tests her voice, clearing her throat until it reaches an almost human timbre.

“Leanne. My name is Leanne”

It smiles.

“No. My name is Asmodeus. The right hand of Luciferus himself. But you can call me Leanne.”

She picks herself off the floor, pulling on her dress as she packs up the scattered candles. She painstakingly forces Jaime into her clothes, before laying her down. She removes the key earring she’s wearing and frees the dead man from his captivity. Flaps of skin come away with the manacles. She skips up the stairs, and a second later, comes down with a knife, handle wrapped in cloth. With savage glee, she stabs her friend over and over, laughing. She places the knife in the dead boy’s hand, forces his stiffened fingers around the hilt. With the cloth dipped in the pool of blood, she smudges the arcane symbols and writings on the walls and floor.

By the time she’s done, the room is akin to the aftermath of a grotesque massacre.

She nods and with a wave of her hand, extinguishes the candles.

She exits the bunker and a second later, screams, drawing the attention of the adults in the house.


Gaea is patient.

She will bring about the destruction of Asmodeus herself.

She awaits for her champion to be born for unknown to Asmodeus, Her vessel was the boy not his new marionette, Leanne.

To Her, 9 months is a but a blink.

She’ll wait.


Leanne feels the little cells swimming furiously inside her. A few degrees hotter and her cervix will dry up and they’ll perish but it doesn’t want her to kill them. It fashions a pretty little ovum out of its essence and the lust magic that still pulses in Leanne’s blood and sends it on its way.

A human scion…  It smiles inwardly, rubbing her flat abdomen. A cambion to anchor me to this plane….


The End…for now…

(The concluding part of what just turned into a trilogy would be up ‘soon’! Once again, thank you @edgothboy!)

(P.S: Thanks for reading even with the length! Appreciate. Do leave comments!)

(P.P.S: Incase you had no idea, i’m involved in the Decades II series on Afrosays. Please check it out and leave your feedbacks! Other wonderful pieces there too!)

(P.P.P.S: @edgothboy runs a blog as well with two other fantastic writers, @NateOblivion and @TheDharkOne. Once again, please check them out!)

You can stop reading now 😀

The Suya Butcher

They should have known.
All of them.
But lets face it, most Nigerians are too blinded by their poverty to notice anything.
The Suya Butcher, Nwobu Bobby Gerald-Richman. Yes, he was an Igbo man selling suya. A fresh Igbo dude, muscular chest like Randy Orton and the V shaped alpha male look; Not Johnny Bravo with skinny legs but with firm thighs as well. The dude was always smiling too, and that’s just the problem. Best suspect them folks that smile too much. There’s something sinister, very fucking evil about them. Runaway from them while you still can.

The Suya Butcher frustrated by the way things were in ‘THIS FUCKED UP COUNTRY!!!’
He screamed cracking the mirror in his room with just his thunderous masculine voice. The Suya Butcher Bobby was chiselled to perfection. He carried no weights. All he did was a special exercise routine: Two sets of ‘Diamond Push ups’ He called it them. Diamond Push ups involved placing your two hands together in the diamond shape( Like Jay Z’s Dynasty Sign,). You place them flat on the floor, and then go down-up as done in a normal push up exercise. It chiselled his chest which was previously man boobs. Gynecomastia they called it in the medical field.
Anyway, this strengthened Bobby, motivated him to be determined in his workouts.

Bobby did this routine everyday, 100, 100, two sets of Diamond Push ups. His chest was chiselled, looking like one of them Spartans in 300. He had no 6 pack abs, just a very flat ab and hair covering it up to his chest like Shawn Michaels. Not happy with the rounded hair God gave most Nigerian men, he decided to relax chest hair. This gave it a more foreign look, like he was a mixed breed, maybe Barbados and Nigerian blood combined.

This caused Ladies to stare lustfully at Gerald Richman, making his suya even more desirable to the female folk. Some would buy just to flirt with him!
Bobby went bald early so he decided to wear a trademark skin cut. He however never cut his facial hair so it grew from his ears down to his neck, swallowing his whole cheeks leaving his lips like a red/brown passage way that opens and closes without control.. After a while, when he looked at the mirror and was not satisfied with the jagged beard common to most Africa men, he decided again to use the magical relaxer. When he was done, his facial hair looked like someone from the States. He only cut it once in six months because it was way too fresh, like the mane of a cub.

Bobby always smiled and this attracted his customers. He went to a private school in his country and studied a course called Management Information Systems (MIS). He studied Engineering previously but failed woefully in his first year as did most of his mates. Like Dominos, they all fell away from Electrical Engineering and switched to MIS. So the class was filled with crooked students, the most crooked set both male and female.
When you fail, it hardens you, awakening a hunger in you. This was how the MIS students were. None of them read for they believed in cooperation, determined to just get that degree, Fuck the knowledge. Bobby graduated and he didn’t even know what the course was really about. Frustrated, after having served his God forsaken country in Abuja, he went back to Lagos unemployed. He was unemployed for six months and one day, Bobby snapped.

Bobby always had a high libido. His only form of entertainment was watching Porn. Bobby enjoyed voyeuristic pleasure from perusing these ‘Works of Art’ as he called them. He would get a boner and this motivated Him to seek real women. It awakened a desire in him, a natural male hunger repressed by the shackles of society in the average man. Bobby escaped those chains, a common characteristic of someone insane. A genius or of course, a serial killer. Bobby was ready to lay any kind of woman, slim, fat, young, old, saggy, firm; any kind!.

His first victim was a fat girl, weighing 220kg. Her skin had a fresh,brown cholocate hue, soft and shiny. She was the daughter of a enator in the State. He met her at a suya spot. She was eating at her table when Bobby came in after parking his car outside the Inn. As Bobby entered, She stared at him, getting excited. She pretended she didn’t see him, chewing faster so as to distract her from her lustful thoughts.
“N300 beef, N200 Kidney” Bobby told the mallam. Whilst he was waiting on his order, he heard a voice coming from the other side. It was Tiffany’s.
“Why don’t you have a sit?”.
There’s something about overweight women that give them a certain confidence; a certain character trait of being a liitle too assertive, too aggressive as compared to normal sexy ladies. They do this to protect themselves of course from the image in the mirror. They loathe themselves so much then take it out on the world, acting like they know it all, seen it all, with a certain cockiness that if you were a patient observer, you’d see contradictions in what they said and what they did. They were not as confident as they appeared to be, Just trying to repress the subconscious pain society inflicted on them for being obese.

Bobby dragged a seat from underneath the table and sat down, a sly smile on his face. When he came closer to her, she got even more excited.
“Do you want one?” she asked to distract her from her raging libido at the moment.
“Yeah! Thanks!”
“I’m Tiffany.”
“I’m Bobby.”
He took a stick from her suya and chewed.
“This suya is a little rubbery.”
She laughed like she was getting tickled. The kind of laughter girls give guys when they like them. They laugh at your jokes that aren’t even funny!
“As in, very rubbery!” She said laughing hard.
They were having a good time, laughing at nothing in particular.
Bobby’s suya was ready and he was about to go.
“How about you come to my house? Its just a five minute stroll from here.”
“I don’t know about that o!”
He was just playing hard to get.
“Come on! Its just gonna be you and me! My father’s away and not coming back till Sunday! Nobody is around and there’s always light at my place!”
She had this way of speaking that classified her as rich. What did you expect? Her father’s a freaking Senator!

They got into his car and in seven minutes, got to her house on the Island.
It was a mansion with five cars parked in. They entered the house and with a press of buttons, activated the lights and A/C. She turned on the 3D 80Inch Samsung TV. ”
They’re showing Salt on MnetHD. Want to watch?”
They put on the 3D specs and watched, enjoying the effects from the Bose Surround Sound System.
After twenty minutes, Tiffany quipped “Hey, I got the the new Transformers movie!”
The movie wasn’t in Nigeria yet but her father had called a friend, who called a friend, who knew a friend, and BAM! Magic! She got the movie. The power of being in the Government.

She put it on and turned off all the lights giving the room that cinematic feel, the lights from the tv, illuminating the room. They ate Bobby’s suya as they watched. After about ten minutes of watching, Tiffany said,
“Hey, I know how I could make this better!”
“You’ll see! I’ll be right back!”
One thing about fat girls also is that they were always eager to please in a kind of desperate way!
She came back; pink light from the TV flashing on the top part of her body.
She was holding something but Bobby couldn’t really see what. She came closer and sat close to him, rubbing her thigh on his.
She was holding a bong.
‘How the hell do you get a bong in this State?’ He thought to himself.
The power of Government.
She placed some freshly cropped green marijuana; stemless, fluffy and healthy marijuana, into the purple and gold bong.
Primo shit!
He watched as she sucked and blew smoke out from her mouth and the Tv reflected a green light on the smoke giving it a surreal effect.
The smell was like nothing Bobby ever smelled.
‘The weed I buy smells like shit!’ He thought to himself.
The power of Government…again!
It smelt like a freshly mown lawn with a hint of apple flavour.

“Here, Imma light you up.” Tiffany said. He placed the bong on his mouth. Clack! Clack! The lighter moaning. It finally came on and she lit the Magic Weed. The gurgling sound came up again and Bobby was already taking the plant into his lungs. He blew out the smoke, coughing a little. He could already feel the subtle effects of the weed just from his first drag.
The Clarity!
He took about 6 inhalations before he realised he was really messed up. Tiffany by then had been laughing uncontrollably. The kind of laughter that gave painful stitches.
Everything slowed down and they felt like they were in the Transformers movie itself, part of the Director’s team, creating the scenes with their minds, merging with the characters, feeling them in first person watching them in 3D.

Bobby’s sexual urges was heightened and so was Tiffany’s. They had eaten the Suya halfway and then Bobby went for the kill. He kissed Tiffany ferociously while she took her clothes off. He admired her big, soft breasts. She took her skirt off and her thighs were joined together making her legs look like one long vertical genitalia. Bobby undressed, already hard and she spread herself for him,ready for entry. Bobby entered her missionary style and the first penetration made her moan hard like she had already cum.

Bobby was enjoying the sound but it got a little too loud and it started to piss him off. He improvised and decided to act all kinky and was eating the suya while he was thrusting her. This was so he could maybe also get it into her mouth to reduce her moans. He took a handful and put it in her mouth and her sounds lowered. He got so carried away by the sensations of sex, pounding away non-stop, he hadn’t realised she had stopped moaning.
He looked at her face and he was shocked…

Her eyes were bulging out, tears rolling out from the sides. Her mouth was filled with suya and spurts of yellow saliva dribbled down her chin.
She had choked!!!
‘Oh My God!
She Has Choked!
She Has Fucking Choked!!!
Bobby walked back and forth, hands rubbing his bald head in pandemonium about what to do. He picked the remote control, pressing all the buttons hoping to hit the light. He turned off the AC, turned on heavy rock music and it took him 35 seconds to find the OFF button.. ‘I’m gonna wake the neighbours! I’m gonna wake the neighbours’ he thought, heart racing. He finally found the switch to shut it off, then the switch to the light.

He looked at the body and it was even more grotesque looking, her face puffed up from the choking. Her legs were still spread wide open and he felt a sudden kick in his penis.
“Bobby, what is wrong with you?” He asked himself.
“But I haven’t done anything. It was a mistake! Let me call the cops. What am I thinking?? That’s fucking jail! For LIFE!! Bobby calm the fuck down!”
He took deep breaths tried to regain his composure. He looked at her spread-eagled body, this time, eyes Fixed and he got a hard boner. The attraction to the dead body that lay in front of him was both disturbing and at the same time, arousing.
‘Bobby, you are not a fucking necrophiliaci! Snap out of It!’
He paused.
‘Its Thursday. She’s the only one around till Sunday’
She had dismissed the security team because she valued her privacy.

He found himself feeling her up, touching her and felt an alien feeling within. A combination of emotions creating an unknown feeling.
Guilt. Pleasure. Pain. Fear. Joy. Power. Hate. Love. Control.
“I’m alone. She’s alone till Sunday. But what of her phone? Oh My God!! What of her phone! Bobby, Calm down!
You are alone Bobby. All alone and you can enjoy any fantasy you want. Isn’t this what you always wanted ? A life-like doll you could control, ravish totally and desecrate?”
He got violent.
He began moaning as he mutilated dead Tiffany’s private member.
“She’s dead. She can’t feel a thing.”

The act and the will to do the act energized his insanity. He had the freedom to do something wrong. Something considered a taboo.
Something so sick.
Nobody was watching!
Oh! What you could do when no one is watching.
His face glowed with a sinister.
By this time, she was barely recognisable.
His gory work gave made him ravenous.
He picked a suya and ate it like an animal.. The suya had finished and a sardonic thought flashed in his head to eat her.
He looked at her again and suddenly stopped seeing the bloody pulp she was. He saw meat.
He took a Bite of Her left Breast, blood dripping from his mouth like a vampire feeding.
He didn’t enjoy it.

Bobby decided there and then that He was gonna eat the body to get rid of the evidence.
Great idea!
He went to the kitchen and carried a very sharp long knife and began his serial killer initiation.
He cut her into bits and pieces ready to cook her on their grill machine.
He started with a chunk of flesh from her thigh. He grilled for about 35 minutes, cut a bit of raw onion and tomatoes then had a bite.
He dug in revelling in his new found dietary choice.. By the end of Thursday, he had finished eating her two legs, the remaining parts, stored in the refrigerator.
Friday, he had eaten both her arms and was surprised her phone hadn’t rung.
It must be her loneliness that made her invite him over in the first place. Saturday, he ate her torso.
Only her head was left.
He carried a mallet from the kitchen and smashed her head to little pieces spilling her brain on the marble floor. He packed it and threw it in the grill. He ate the brain and it kinda tasted like shrimps!
Sunday morning by 4:30am, he got some fuel from the generator house and burnt the house down.

Tiffany’s father came home to see his house burnt down. They later discovered blackened bones from the fire but surprised they didn’t find a skull. They later discovered it was Tiffany’s body. It wasn’t till about 3 months later that Bobby started His suya business.
Nothing he had ever experienced in his life was this exhilarating.
Frightening. Wrong. Pleasurable. Disturbing. Magical.

His next victim was a hooker. A very fine hooker. They arranged to meet at a motel and after having sex with her, he snapped her neck. It was a small motel so they hardly had guests. He also killed the overweight owner of the motel. He left both of them in Room 13. The Room he checked into. He played owner, alloting rooms to guests, just two guests anyway, collecting their money and giving them rooms, except room 13 ofcourse. He got a barbecue equipment and was selling a ‘Special Suya’ in the motel. People bought and enjoyed it, not knowing it was human meat. He packed the two bodies to his car wrapped in a big black nylon normally used to dispense refuse. He placed it in the boot of his Honda and was making his way back to his house at night, almost midnight. Police stopped him along the way and with just a smile and little ego stroke,
“Officer! Well done O”
“Bros, You get something for us?”
“Oga, nothing for now O, but I dey always pass this area. I go surely see you again another day.”
“No Wahala!”
With this, he was allowed to go. He carried the bodies to his room. He decided to sell his car and buy a deep freezer, grill, a sharp knife and a shovel. This was how business started.

He sold Suya at the front of his house, N300 for a stick. It was worth it. Big and tasty, the meat having a secret unique taste customers couldn’t quite fathom.
From a fat person, he could get like 15 grand after selling all pieces including liver and kidney. Slim, he could get like 8 Grand. He was making a profit because he didn’t need to pay for the meat, unlike those mallams who had to buy goats, cattle, chicken for their business. He got his free and it was the only quality Suya Spot in that area so people patronised.

He became a big time Suya guy, employed some workers and told them his secrets getting them to sign a Confidentiality Agreement before they could work for him. He threatened to kill their children if they ever spilled his secret.
They kept quiet.

This was how Nwobu Bobby Gerald Richman became the Suya Butcher, selling people to people.
He became a multimillionaire.

The End

Chasing Pavements (part 4)

I slowly turn around, heart beating.
I’ve been caught!
A million and one excuses running through my mind; one as stupid as the other.
I’m in a DEEP trouble…or so I thought.


Its just my brother!

“Joe! What was that for!”
I’m enraged.
He gives me a smug look.
“And what were you doing? I’d tell daddy!”
I take a deep breath.
“Ok, Ok! Don’t tell. Please. I..I just needed to get something.”
“Something like what?”
I close the box and put it back to its original position, ignoring him.
“I know what you were doing.”
I turn sharply, alarmed.
“And just what was that?” I ask trying for a false bravado.
“You were taking money! Ha!”
I try not to let my relief show on my face.
“I was going to tell daddy now after taking it so its not like I was stealing” I say trying to sound put off.
“Why didn’t you tell him first before you take?”
I sigh exasperated.
“Ok Ok! I’m going to tell him” and I walk out of the room making sure my sneaked item wasn’t visible.
I make sure he’s not following me and then beat a hasty retreat to my room
“That was close! Ha!” I say taking deep breaths to calm my pounding heart.
I bring out the file and wipe off the perspiration that I lathered on it.
I flick through the pages but nothing makes sense.
“Oh well, Mark would understand.”
I dial his number.
“Hey you”
“I’m fine.”
“Aww missing you too”
“Oh yeah I got the file”
“Stop jo my head is swelling.”
“Now? Ok! Where?”
“Oh you don’t live too far”
“Ok. Love you”

I check the time.
Enough time to make it to Mark’s place and back.
I slap on some make up and head out.

15mins later and I’m at his flat.
Modest looking.
Doesn’t look like a place someone financially challenged would live and I tell him.
“Its the grace of God my dear. I don’t know how I even do it!” He says as he sets drinks before me.
“You don’t have to serve me you know. I’m no guest! Come sit”
I pat the love seat I’m perched on and he sidles close to me smiling.

We cuddle and discuss about mundane things. I hand him the file and he goes to keep it.
He comes back and lifts me to his laps.
“You’re beautiful and smart.” He whispers and draws me closer for a kiss.
“I could say the same about you” I reply demurely.

Words are soon forgotten as we are locked in the heat of our embrace.
I’d admit I’m no virgin but for some reason unknown to me I hesitate but his kisses…
Hot and moist on my neck.
His roving hands exploring the landscape that is my body.
I soon lose myself in the passion.
His deft fingers have unbuttoned my shirt and unhooked my bra and soon, he’s suckling me with ardour.
My back’s arched and trembling with the powers of pleasure coursing through my veins straight to my groin.
I take off his shirt and move to unbuckle his trousers but he stops me.
“Not yet” he whispers and he switches positions with me; I’m seated on the sofa and he’s kneeling.
I watch as he kisses my belly button and I know what he plans to do next.
I fear I might drench the sofa if I get any wetter.
He unbuckles my trouser and pulls it down to my ankles along with my pant.

Suddenly I feel shy and I try to cover up my thatch of hair.
He smiled and reached up to kiss me deeply.
“You’d be begging for more soon” he says, drawing a chuckle from me.
I lace my hands at the back of his head in an unspoken command and without hesitation, he plunges his face into my ‘zone’

He was right!
Oh blazes!
My body is alight with fire and I clench his head harder.
I moan and writhe with abandon as he nibbles and sucks and bites.
I can’t take it anymore and whispers of ‘Please’ falls of my lips.
He chuckles softly and gets up.
We unbuckle and undress him and soon he’s plunging into me.
I wrap my legs around his midsection and with heedless abandon fall into the rhythmic movements of limbs and flesh slapping on flesh.

Just as I’m about to reach my peak, someone rings the door bell.
We ignore it.
The bell keeps ringing and I hang on to him tighter.
An unvoiced plea to finish what he started.
A few more thrusts and he withdraws to spend himself out of me.
“Who the hell is that?” I mutter weakly as we disengage.
“I don’t know but I’m going to beat someone up today” he mutters gruffly as he puts on his jeans.
He gives me a hard kiss and goes off to peep at the door from the curtains.

He swears and comes back to me in a hurry.
“Dress up quick! Go stay inside the room opposite the toilet!”
“Who is it?” I ask puzzled by the worry on his face.

“Its your mother!”

Oh boy…

(To be continued…)

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