Archive | February, 2014

Savage Beauty

17 Feb

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2014
By Julia DarkRose Ray
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Savage Beauty

This one thought keeps echoing in my head…fear prevents one from joining the fray of life, leaving only carrion while the brave carry off the choicest meats.

With that thought, I rise and howl. The hunt has begun…soon I will be drowsy and reveling in my blood-euphoria. The mere thought of my prey’s blood coursing through my body, being covered in their sanguine elixir…fucking my hunt then devouring them body and soul…is almost more than I can bare to think about without cum already dripping from my hot pussy.

Not yet…once more I go into the fray. Once more I hunt, devour, and become the glorious predator that nature has made…

I am a creature of the night. I am your most horrific nightmare and I am your most sensual dream.

I am on the prowl.

*Of course, now I only desire to hunt down my husband, my Devoted Blood.*

~JDR

Ebon Rhapsody

17 Feb

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2014
By Julia DarkRose Ray
Ebon Rhapsody
Ebon Rhapsody

Come to her empty of your day fire misery.
Embrace the rubescent maiden,
most perfect Lady of Night,
who brings a noise of valiant winds
and the rushing rivers of ebon truth.

For the liars burning aurora,
acid rains and shallow ruins are over
and all the season of betrayal and vileness,
shall now wither to poisoned dust.
The days dividing lover and lover
are washed away by Her mighty storm.
The light that loses substance,
shall be replaced by our precious Night that substantiates;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
and frosts slain,
and nighttime flowers begotten.
In shadowed underwood
we are covered blossom by blossom,
the crimson Spring begins…

Before the beginning of years
there came to the making of human kind,
time, with a gift of tears;
Sorrow, with a glass that always flowed;
Pleasure, with pain for genesis;
Summer, with flowers that fell;
Remembrance fallen from ebon rhapsody
and beautiful madness risen from Pandemonium;
Strength with the spirit to smite;
Love that endures for all breaths;
Darkness, the creator of light, and life,
the shadow of Death…

Then the sun was borne…
and swallowed the gospel of our Lady Night.
Eyesight and speech they, those vacant souls, wrought,
for the veils of the spirit therein,
a time for labor and diseased thought,
a time to serve false verity and enslave;
They gave us, the children of the Moon,
the false light of their ways and selfish love,
and a space for insipid delight,
masked beauty and the length of disturbing days
and the dim gloom, they call midnight,
permission to sleep in the arms of our own
luminous Dark Mother.

Their speech is a burning fire of atrophied spiritual waste;
With their deceiver lips
they travail the delusions of the begotten son;
In their hearts is a blind desire,
in their shrouded eyes
foreknowledge of untrue death;
They try to weave our lives,
clothed with derision
of what they mistakenly fear.
Swine they are
and shall not reap the dark joy
and wisdom of the eventide.
They exist as a confused vision
between a sleep and asleep.

Oh, we have seen thee,
o false love,
thou aren’t true;
Thou aren’t goodly,
thou aren’t the burning
of unconditional love,
of the spirit of creation,
thou art a lie…

For your words divide and rend;
But ours, the red moon tribes,
eclipsed silence, is most noble till the end.

~JDR

Fire & Ice

9 Feb

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2014
By Julia DarkRose Ray

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*This is an excerpt from our story, the story about me and my Devoted Blood (DB), The Crow & the Wolf.*

Fire and Ice

My heart is racing. I am full of lights. I feel my beloved’s pain, a sharp instrument pressed through his skull, his right eye.

I squeeze my hand down on the ice. It hurts terribly, a sort of burn. He starts to push my hand away–
“Don’t,” I plead.
I start to cry from the pain of the ice on my right hand. It gnaws at me, it eats me.

I felt myself growing weightless and quiet inside my shell of anguish, his, mine. ‘Wait,’ he said to me.
I waited. I waited fifteen minutes by the chime of the kitchen clock. By now I have completely turned to ice. The core of me, my groin, my breasts. My stomach, my heart.

I have finally removed my hand from the freezer and I am walking back to my love. I open the door of his sleeping place.

I feel very tall (which I am not), and feel like I’m floating in the air. I see his chamber with its bare plastered walls, the bed, and Devoted lying on it. He is rigidly immobile. He tells me, “Even in the midst of my pain, you are all I can see and think about, you are still perfection–”
I cross the bare floor, floating, and stand above him. My braids have somehow come undone, and black hair showers over me.

I take hold of his left hand and pull it away from the most beautiful face I have ever known (Beautiful in a very manly sort away).

There is no mark on him. His face is only hard, clenched, a stone. He does not resist me. He says to me, “You have already eased my pain by simply existing.”

I put my right hand, frozen, against his left eye, forehead and temple.

My beloved screams. His whole body erupts into motion. I cry out too. I clamp my frozen hand against him. I force my hand to remain on his face, which is like furnace heat.

The world seems to have cracked.

Then I feel a hurt worse than before. The pain in my love has come into me. Into my hand. I am kindling. I am on fire.

Now it has extiguished.

I feel bruised, perhaps smashed, but I continue to sit on the bed. A band of flame still circles my right wrist. It is my husband’s hand. He is looking at me now.

His eyes are such a pale shade of hazel they are nearly white.
He says, “What did you do?”

“You said–ice.”

He says, hoarsely, “You can heal and save as well as devastate.”

“No, it was the ice.”

“Once in a hundred or so years,” he reveals, “it comes like that. You are a true healer my Lamia. So many claim that title but it is only a label they use to make themselves feel better.”

“Is it better?” I ask. “Are you all right?” Then I start to cry (he hates to hear me cry), I try to stop but cannot. His pain, my pain, has morphed into emotional pain, a sweet release.

“It’s gone. You took it. What did you do with it?” He lifts my hand and turns it over. My palm and fingers are burned blue, and bleeding. “Your hand,” he says, “your writer’s hand.” He puts both of his hands over mine.

It hurts like fire again. I do not care. “Don’t leave me,” I say to him.

“At the gates of the abyss,” he tells me, “there you are, Julia in her long black hair and flawless porcelain skin.” He keeps my hand in his left hand, and reaches up to me and pulls me slowly down.

I am laying over him, my lips on his. He kisses me softly but urgently. I kiss him back. I kiss his mouth until his mouth tenses and takes mine. I put my arms around his neck, my live hand and my dead hand. Suddenly I draw back. Lift off my dress like a wreath, and reaching behind me, clumsy from the burn of the ice, undo my brassiere.

My white breasts are full yet high, firm, with budded petals.
“You don’t need to seduce me,” he whispers, I’ve belonged to you since before time began.”

“Please,” I beg.

The tears upon my face are like splashes of gems. My eyes are wide and black and crazed with life.

My savior, my husband traces my breasts with his hands, then with his lips. I sigh. I clasp his head, the mantle of dark hair, holding him to me.

He lowers me down, until I am beneath him. Now he strips both of us, until we are equally exposed, naked and glistening.

His body is tawny comapred to my white flesh. He strokes me. I cling to him. The entry of his flesh into mine is harsh and savage.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Yes.”

I don’t care. I want to die. I want to die for you.”
He kisses me, moving inside of me, the pain like a cathedral built up toward the heavens, arches and pinnacles, bronze and air.

I turn my neck. “Drink my blood. Please. I want you to.”

“Hush,” he says.

“I love you,” I cry, “don’t leave me. I love you.”

He cries out, as he had in pain. I look and see his eyes and in the depths of them, as if in polished mirrors, the ages of the earth, truth and eternal love, fire and darkness.
~JDR

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