jon libby's Blog
June 16, 2016
Excerpt Chapter: Eamon (The Sorceress' Prophecy)
“Another Bourbon, Brynn, and glasses,” Satin ordered.
Brynn obeyed, shuffling her rubenesque physique to the cabinet behind them. She returned with a full bottle, uncapped it and poured it with shaking hands into a glass. She gave the glass to Satin who poured her a glass in turn. They sat there in silence until Brynn regained her wits.
“Why Satin? Why do you even bother welcoming him here? I mean, hasn’t he done enough damage?”
Satin shook his head. “He’s my son Brynn, and if I may speak with candor, I am at fault for his current state. I wasn’t there when he was born. Wasn’t there for his entire infancy in fact. Although back then his mother Margeaux had pushed me away, I should have demanded to be a part of his early life.”
Satin shook his head ruefully as he spoke. Brynn took a long sip of her wine before replying. “But even so, his actions have been completely unacceptable, and every-time he comes here his atrocities get worse. Last time he…”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Satin interjected.
There has to be a time when enough is enough Satin.”
Satin shook his head. “Nonsense, yes his actions are detestable, but the pain it causes me to see his current degeneration is my penance. I neglected him when he needed me most. Turning him away now is unpardonable. I will change him somehow.”
But even as he said it, the words sounded ludicrous. He knew his best days of trying to save Eamon from himself were in the past. Brynn helped herself to another glassful, and leaned back. Clearly, she too knew he would be hard pressed to save such a wayward soul. Satin sighed. At least he was trying, and that had to count for something.
“Well I have an eternity to make things right, haven’t I?”
Brynn gave him a long, judgmental stare in the silence. On another occasion it would have made a fine joke, but now the air was impregnable in its tenseness. Satin drained his glass; suddenly the Bourbon lost all taste and effect. Satin looked at Brynn, she looked back. As always, she read him well. She scooted over, raising her head ever so slightly. He paused, momentarily feeling guilty he was choosing to immerse his sorrows into deep oblivion through blood.
In his hesitation, Brynn forced herself onto him, pressing herself into him like a large cat. Satin was surprised; in all their past dalliances, it was the first she had ever done this. She had sensed that this was a rare moment of weakness. Her scent overwhelmed him, forcing him to indulge her in earnest, losing himself in the rush. As her essence spilled down his throat, he felt the familiar light-headedness-- as if he were floating to some obscure heaven.
Whatever worries he had moments prior,vanished, transforming into a euphoria that stirred a part of him he had thought had gone vestigial. Brynn cooed as he claimed her, urging him on with her swooning whimpers of pleasure. Satin gulped down copious fragments of her very being, merging it with his own.
Ecstasy enveloped them for time unknown and so whole, that they were deaf to the dying screams issuing from the adjacent room.
The Sorceress' Prophecy
Brynn obeyed, shuffling her rubenesque physique to the cabinet behind them. She returned with a full bottle, uncapped it and poured it with shaking hands into a glass. She gave the glass to Satin who poured her a glass in turn. They sat there in silence until Brynn regained her wits.
“Why Satin? Why do you even bother welcoming him here? I mean, hasn’t he done enough damage?”
Satin shook his head. “He’s my son Brynn, and if I may speak with candor, I am at fault for his current state. I wasn’t there when he was born. Wasn’t there for his entire infancy in fact. Although back then his mother Margeaux had pushed me away, I should have demanded to be a part of his early life.”
Satin shook his head ruefully as he spoke. Brynn took a long sip of her wine before replying. “But even so, his actions have been completely unacceptable, and every-time he comes here his atrocities get worse. Last time he…”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Satin interjected.
There has to be a time when enough is enough Satin.”
Satin shook his head. “Nonsense, yes his actions are detestable, but the pain it causes me to see his current degeneration is my penance. I neglected him when he needed me most. Turning him away now is unpardonable. I will change him somehow.”
But even as he said it, the words sounded ludicrous. He knew his best days of trying to save Eamon from himself were in the past. Brynn helped herself to another glassful, and leaned back. Clearly, she too knew he would be hard pressed to save such a wayward soul. Satin sighed. At least he was trying, and that had to count for something.
“Well I have an eternity to make things right, haven’t I?”
Brynn gave him a long, judgmental stare in the silence. On another occasion it would have made a fine joke, but now the air was impregnable in its tenseness. Satin drained his glass; suddenly the Bourbon lost all taste and effect. Satin looked at Brynn, she looked back. As always, she read him well. She scooted over, raising her head ever so slightly. He paused, momentarily feeling guilty he was choosing to immerse his sorrows into deep oblivion through blood.
In his hesitation, Brynn forced herself onto him, pressing herself into him like a large cat. Satin was surprised; in all their past dalliances, it was the first she had ever done this. She had sensed that this was a rare moment of weakness. Her scent overwhelmed him, forcing him to indulge her in earnest, losing himself in the rush. As her essence spilled down his throat, he felt the familiar light-headedness-- as if he were floating to some obscure heaven.
Whatever worries he had moments prior,vanished, transforming into a euphoria that stirred a part of him he had thought had gone vestigial. Brynn cooed as he claimed her, urging him on with her swooning whimpers of pleasure. Satin gulped down copious fragments of her very being, merging it with his own.
Ecstasy enveloped them for time unknown and so whole, that they were deaf to the dying screams issuing from the adjacent room.
The Sorceress' Prophecy
Poetry
Dance Floor
Trance music blaring summons scenes gothic
As night, obscurer of temperance, descends
Aphrodisiacal- smelling like the magnificence
Beside whom I now step, dancing life into oblivion
Mechanism of memory murdered
Red the shade of the culprit wine
Familiar stranger; yet my spirit drinks hers
Like the spirits within unbalanced glasses
Reflecting gyrating hues of spheres
Cast like spells upon heady flesh-
Lights flit about to match dreamy light-headedness
While words slip unbidden off tips of tipsy tongues
Devilish eyes flash subliminally
Yet my soaring Ibis eyes saw Isis
Goddess...temptress of my swansong restraint
Possessing the will to repel the sinful bed
Though sure by law of lust to be pitied
One must charge that hater of chastity...
Aphrodite…
With bestowing such sweet serendipity
Culminating with unavoidable iniquity
Trance music blaring summons scenes gothic
As night, obscurer of temperance, descends
Aphrodisiacal- smelling like the magnificence
Beside whom I now step, dancing life into oblivion
Mechanism of memory murdered
Red the shade of the culprit wine
Familiar stranger; yet my spirit drinks hers
Like the spirits within unbalanced glasses
Reflecting gyrating hues of spheres
Cast like spells upon heady flesh-
Lights flit about to match dreamy light-headedness
While words slip unbidden off tips of tipsy tongues
Devilish eyes flash subliminally
Yet my soaring Ibis eyes saw Isis
Goddess...temptress of my swansong restraint
Possessing the will to repel the sinful bed
Though sure by law of lust to be pitied
One must charge that hater of chastity...
Aphrodite…
With bestowing such sweet serendipity
Culminating with unavoidable iniquity
