Prose
Immolation
by R. Baker
I've some magic that will keep you warm at night. The beat of my burning angel wings send flames licking across your face, reducing your lashes to cinders as you shield your eyes from the pain. The sizzle stench of your bubbling flesh is the sweetest scent in all the heavens. I relish and inhale as I'm no fat-cheeked cherebuim but righteous fury, glinting eyes. The searing white heat of purification. Or is it annihilation?
Together we compose a symphony. Rhythmic crackle of hair and bone. Obliterating cresendo of screams. Erratic beat of joyous dance. The sound is maddening, frenzied, a wild overture of death and celebration. I twirl and you glisten, slick with fat blood pus. The smell, the pain, the fear. You convulse and vomit, leaking foul liquid. Your shrieks subside, lost in gurgles and gasps, labored breath and death rattle. I collapse, panting and lean my head close to the blackened orb that was yours. I listen intently for the slowing of your heart, the majestic finale of life extinguished. A quiet cessation of breathing, the ebb of heartbeat, then just the sound of smoldering, the hiss of greasy remains.

DISAPPOINTMENT! PATHETIC! ANTI-CLIMAX! I wished for a paroxsym, something grand and terrible! You were my first! I wanted a cacophony and you left with a whimper! Sighing, I scoop a handful of charred slick meat and drop it in a tuppeware container. A little something to remember you by.
Posted by: R. Baker

Prose (November 22nd, 2004)