Extreme Disorder's Lookn4drkness and Death Lair

DEATH LAIR

Have you ever wondered, like I have, what the last breath of a dying person smells like…?

In the olden days every village had its share of hidden secrets and this one was no different. Ciaran was cast out by the village’s invidious women claiming her to be a witch. She was the one signaled and accused of witchery. They just didn’t understand her nature. Many men ogled her for her beauty but she snubbed them all; except for Han, he owned her heart and she loved him. Their love was secret. She was indeed different from him, she knew things others didn’t. She was capable f casting spells but not of causing harm to anyone, hate just wasn’t in her. The town’s people just didn’t comprehend. Ciaran felt the pressure to leave, she moved to the outskirts of the forest close enough to the edge of the country. Even then the jealous women felt uneasy knowing her to be alive out there. So, they surreptitiously planned to convince the husbands to banish her once and for all. The men agreed but would take their task a step further. They would enjoy her fist then kill her. There was no way for Han to protest for they would certainly kill him as well. Cowardly he listened to the plan they concocted. Already suspicious of Han the other men carefully kept an eye on him for they had a haunch he would alert Ciaran of the inhuman end she was to suffer. He was unable to warn his beloved… Time passed and on a cold January’s dawn she headed out for some fresh water. She had to walk to the river thru a dark dreary desolate pathway in some quiet, silent, empty woodland. After she fetched what she needed she lingered there staring into the flowing water for a few seconds and suddenly she was struck by a qualm. A few moments later she headed back home. Snapping twigs behind her made her aware that a group of men were following her. First they were far away trailing behind her whispering to each other. Then as she hastily hurried her steps they came closer almost to arms reach, close enough to taunt her and tease her. Their words induced her to stop and turn around to look at her fate in the eyes of her judgers; what stunned her was Hans’s presence which she first noticed. She knew it was helpless for her to scream, for no one would help her; not even him, the man she belonged to and was secretly claimed as his. Every time she looked at his face, he was shamefully looking down and falling behind, but the others continued to urge him forward.

There laying in his embrace on the damp ground, looking out to a salty sea, delighted to be with him once more, Ciaran found herself with Han, and it warmed her insides. Thoughts flowed in her mind, his face she wanted to remember always, his smell she would never forget, his comforting hands and the taste of his kisses, all infiltrated her revolving mind like wandering haze, unstoppable yet enjoyable. Snowflakes fell onto their fur coatings, believing in their happiness. He was holding her warm body close to his own and thought of how good she fit in next to his. There they were both so enthralled in each other’s presence, trying to enjoy their closeness. Both attempted to ignore reality and that harsh cruel truth, of their secret desire of each other. Pleading to forget about the outside world, about their haunting problems…

Two of the men pinned her down and gagged her with a piece of dirty rag while another one ripped of her skirt. The pigs ravaged and violated her, inveigh grunts escaped her throat, engrossed by monstrous pain and an inner decision to let go of her own life grew. Han became apprehensive and tried to refuse his turn, but he was threatened by them all, so he decided to go last. Ciaran found herself losing life while being raped by all of those filthy bastards, but that was not what broke her. It was the crude fact that Han, the man she adored ghastly abused her as well just to be accepted by the rest of them. This saddened her mind enough to stop her beating heart, for she hated his action towards her. He leaned in to kiss her and as he did, he smelled her breath; the scent of a dying love escaped her body and entered his. He would never forget his murderous actions, what it was like to assault his beautiful flower, because he knew in his soul, there he carried it imprinted forevermore…

After returning home to their wives, their eyes told their wives they had done away with her and rejoicing they decided to throw a celebration. All the grown ups would celebrate with drink and dancing up at the villages reunion cottage. Han wanted revenge, so he devised and planned till that day. In the meantime he hypocritically visited her cenotaph, knowing where her remains truly rested, because he had helped bury her lifeless body. He decided to use some of the poisonous herbs Ciaran had kept in her small shack to poison the barrels of wine that were to be used. All the while they were celebrating he was in each of their homes taking away the lives of their young. From each bed he stole their last dying breath… Once he was done he ventured into the forest, past the now silent cottage where everyone had consumed the venomous drink and ceased to exist. He reached the location where her bare bones were hidden. He dug up a pit next to hers and laid inside of it, and then he pulled a cord which released a guillotine like device, which in turn severed his head.

Hence he avenged his immortal fragile blossom.