THE SAINT
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The woman to the right of the man in the middle is the most peculiar of the three. She's a one hundred and ten percent, true blue, holy rolling, honest to goodness devout follower of Jesus Christ and the core Christian faith. She's a good girl -- she loves Jesus. Of course, she's not to be confused with the Christians wrapping around the mid west and making up the good ol' Bible-thumping Bible Belt. Never has she pushed someone or hated them for not sharing her beliefs. That's not to say that she's never attempted to share the gospel because she most certainly has done that. But all she really is guilty of in that category is love.
For her, it all started in the home that her father had built with his bare hands. He was a genuine craftsman, a jack-of-all-trades if you will. He built it for his wife, who was pregnant. They had five children total and the girl who would later come to serve the Lord was the last to come. This was not a home of Christianity, or any defined theism for that matter. The newly blessed parents were seemingly good people and they loved their children. They loved them so much that they gave the first born very special attention. Without any guilt whatsoever, the father would molest her -- and the mother would watch. This continued on even after the second child, another girl, was born. She suffered the same treatment. As was the same for the next female child. Finally, child number four was a male. The mother had wanteda son since she had been at the altar. She now had someone to experiment with. And the father had just another to add to his collection. When he was old enough, he was persuaded to lie with his older sisters and told that there was absolutely nothing taboo about it. The parents just wanted to watch their children strengthen their bonds. And if the children didn't know how to perform something asked, the parents would show them.
The last daughter to enter the house was not touched as a child. However, she did grow in years while watching her parents defile one another and the other children. But for some odd reason, they never touched her or asked her to participate. Still, the girl was forever scarred. That is how she came to love Jesus. It was her interpretation that God had spared her from the destructive hands of her parents. She realized this after all of her siblings committed a mass suicide. It was two days before her graduation. That was when she knew that all the insecurities she had about attending school at the collegiate level were insignificant. She had been accepted to a plethora of schools and it was set in her mind that she would leave her parents' house, never look back, and go to university.
She graduated with flying colors. She earned a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology with a Minor in Music. She was a truly gifted flautist. Because she had been so overly exposed to sex and unimaginable volatility, she never accepted offers from the opposite sex. She sacrificed her first kiss, which had yet to come, in order to excel in her studies and better develop her relationship with God. However, her education and drive could only get her a job as a teller at a prestigious bank.
Over the next few months, she yearned for something more. She prayed that the void she was feeling be filled. She prayed f or a sign. God seemed to have taken a vacation from this woman's problems. Finally, she decided that it was her job that was contributing to her unhappiness. One day, she marched into the bank, knowing that she would quit at the end of the day, and did her job as usual. As she was thinking about what her spontaneous jump into the world would be like, a man walked in with a heavy deposit. She had seen him before but never assisted him. That changed when he walked to her counter. He asked her out for a drink after her shift and she knew that his request was God's sign.
Throughout the next year, they became a fully functional couple. He was fine with the fact that she was a virgin and the first man she had ever touched. She was happy to find someone so surprisingly normal and enchanting -- especially in her first and only boyfriend. When the day came, she had no reservations about saying, "I do."
At the wedding, she met her new sister-in-law. She thought her to be cute but quite odd. For whatever reason, she just knew there was something about her. It was obvious that her husband's sister had some unexplained feelings about the new happy couple but nothing was ever discussed.
This woman smiles at the camera because she is happy and it's what she does best. Even when thoughts of her family prancing around the house naked and moaning filter into her mind, she forces a smile. She always relies on God and thanks Him for a husband that is true to her and responsible for keeping the woman from making a huge mistake. He's the sign and secondary savior that was sent down to fill the void in her life.
Showing posts with label incest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label incest. Show all posts
11.30.2007
Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 4)
THE SOPHISTICATE
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The man in the middle is the brother of the woman to the left. He is also the husband to the woman on the right. He loves them both but he has always loved his sister. He doesn’t care that she is a Satanist or what crimes she commits. His only care is that she is happy. Staring deep into the camera with those pale blue eyes, he touches both of the women he loves. However, you can easily tell which one he is closer to.
Yes, one time he had intercourse with his sister next to his mother's corpse. It's not that he is a disturbed individual. It's just that he really loves his sister and nothing could stop him from seizing the opportunity given him by his disturbed sibling. But she never allowed him to love her that way again. He prayed -- to God, to Satan, to whomever -- that he and his sister would once again be one. His prayers were not answered. After a few months, he moved away and tried to refocus his life.
With the money left from his mother, he bought a horse stable with a dozen thoroughbreds. He bred them, raced them, and made a fine living. There's good money in horse breeding. Before he knew it, he was one of the wealthiest men in town and everyone knew it. In fact, too many people knew. Practically over night he had turned into this sophisticated businessman making honest money. When it seemed as if things were at their peak, something happened. Some of his prized horses that were scheduled to race went missing one morning. Someone had stolen them. He knew. He knew damn well who took those horses. Those well-nurtured beasts were lying dead somewhere in the forest -- full of stab wounds and probably burnt to a crisp. This was bad for business. You fail to deliver a horse for a race, you change the odds. A lot of people bet the ponies and they all knew the man with the best breed in town. All bets were off.
The man needed to quickly think of a way to maintain his wealthy status and win back his reputation. He had decided that hard work and an honest living weren't viable options so he improvised.
With some of the money he had left, he was able to purchase a handful of common whores for nighttime events seven days a week. Late in the evenings, men would come from all around to this man's horse stable. They'd sit in a closed off barn while low lights flickered and rich orchestral music played. In the blips of light, men would spend well-earned money to watch these women engage in unspeakable acts with the man's remaining thoroughbreds. For just a little extra, they could make requests. For a little more, they could have one of the whores next. The man was back on top, pulling in more whip than before. It wasn’t honest but it was good. Life was perfect.
He met a nice girl at the bank one day when he was making one of his large deposits. The stolen horses taught him an important lesson: save money. She was a university girl and she was beautiful. They went out for drinks after her shift. He insisted. The next day they went on a picnic. The day after that, they went riding on some of his horses. They fell in love. She loved his wit. He loved her innocence and morals. Never would he have guessed that a year later he would be married to a Christian girl.
He loved her so much that after the honeymoon, he stopped his business -- sold the stable altogether. They had enough money to enjoy a sophisticated manner of living while she continued working at the bank and he traded stocks.
She is everything to him, especially everything that his sister is not. He tells himself he loves his wife. He looks in the mirror and says that he no longer has any feelings for his sister. The way he sits at the table tells the truth. The way he looks into the camera makes him transparent. After all, there's a reason he's not dressed as sophisticated as he usually is.
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The man in the middle is the brother of the woman to the left. He is also the husband to the woman on the right. He loves them both but he has always loved his sister. He doesn’t care that she is a Satanist or what crimes she commits. His only care is that she is happy. Staring deep into the camera with those pale blue eyes, he touches both of the women he loves. However, you can easily tell which one he is closer to.
Yes, one time he had intercourse with his sister next to his mother's corpse. It's not that he is a disturbed individual. It's just that he really loves his sister and nothing could stop him from seizing the opportunity given him by his disturbed sibling. But she never allowed him to love her that way again. He prayed -- to God, to Satan, to whomever -- that he and his sister would once again be one. His prayers were not answered. After a few months, he moved away and tried to refocus his life.
With the money left from his mother, he bought a horse stable with a dozen thoroughbreds. He bred them, raced them, and made a fine living. There's good money in horse breeding. Before he knew it, he was one of the wealthiest men in town and everyone knew it. In fact, too many people knew. Practically over night he had turned into this sophisticated businessman making honest money. When it seemed as if things were at their peak, something happened. Some of his prized horses that were scheduled to race went missing one morning. Someone had stolen them. He knew. He knew damn well who took those horses. Those well-nurtured beasts were lying dead somewhere in the forest -- full of stab wounds and probably burnt to a crisp. This was bad for business. You fail to deliver a horse for a race, you change the odds. A lot of people bet the ponies and they all knew the man with the best breed in town. All bets were off.
The man needed to quickly think of a way to maintain his wealthy status and win back his reputation. He had decided that hard work and an honest living weren't viable options so he improvised.
With some of the money he had left, he was able to purchase a handful of common whores for nighttime events seven days a week. Late in the evenings, men would come from all around to this man's horse stable. They'd sit in a closed off barn while low lights flickered and rich orchestral music played. In the blips of light, men would spend well-earned money to watch these women engage in unspeakable acts with the man's remaining thoroughbreds. For just a little extra, they could make requests. For a little more, they could have one of the whores next. The man was back on top, pulling in more whip than before. It wasn’t honest but it was good. Life was perfect.
He met a nice girl at the bank one day when he was making one of his large deposits. The stolen horses taught him an important lesson: save money. She was a university girl and she was beautiful. They went out for drinks after her shift. He insisted. The next day they went on a picnic. The day after that, they went riding on some of his horses. They fell in love. She loved his wit. He loved her innocence and morals. Never would he have guessed that a year later he would be married to a Christian girl.
He loved her so much that after the honeymoon, he stopped his business -- sold the stable altogether. They had enough money to enjoy a sophisticated manner of living while she continued working at the bank and he traded stocks.
She is everything to him, especially everything that his sister is not. He tells himself he loves his wife. He looks in the mirror and says that he no longer has any feelings for his sister. The way he sits at the table tells the truth. The way he looks into the camera makes him transparent. After all, there's a reason he's not dressed as sophisticated as he usually is.
11.28.2007
Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 3)
THE SATANIST
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The blonde on the left with the big ruby lips, she looks at the camera but isn't focused on it. Her mind is somewhere much different. She is debating in her head the best sacrifice to make during the upcoming full moon.
She grew up with only a mother and her brother. He's the man to the right of her. Their mother worked three jobs: a waitress, a homemaker, and a whore. Her house was her office for two of the three jobs. It was not uncommon for her daughter and her son to see her with strange men, who would leave late in the evening or early in the morning. The daughter didn't mind.
When this girl was all but thirteen, she made some special friends. They were older and more knowledgeable of the world. They showed her that there was a spirit realm that could give her life meaning. She had nothing else of substance in her life so she engaged. It all started with a harmless sacrifice.
One night the group had gathered somewhere in the hills, dressed in black. After a few traditional prayers, one of the members pulled a live cat from a bag. A short rope was attached to its collar and hooked to a stake. Then the group of five all drew knives. That was the first of many sacrifices that this particular girl would make.
As she grew older, some would call her a serial killer if they knew what she did on the weekends. Others would say she was just cutting down the excess population. And still, others would say that she was just a confused Satanist with a troubled past. She wasn't troubled though. Her head was clear and she knew exactly what she was doing. She sacrificed her mother on her twenty-first birthday. Her brother and her made love next to the corpse. She loved him as only a brother but he had always wanted her. She wanted to share the moment with someone close to her. That was the only time their souls would ever truly connect and neither of them would ever regret it.
She is to herself. If looks could kill, she'd love to watch people die. She hasn't sacrificed in over a month and now her thirst to please her god is poking her heart. She wants to burn her brother's wife at the stake. That's the woman to her right. It's partly because she loves her brother, and since the night that they shared their mother's death there has been a deep connection, but mostly, it's because the woman is a God fearing, too good to be true charming person. Her brother has changed since he married her. She wants things back to the way they were.
She knows the pure couple because she was a friend of the soldier's lover. She absolutely adores his wife but she doesn't know why. The other couple is mediocre in her eyes. She could live with them or she could sacrifice them. Either way.
The full moon is coming. She knows this as she looks into the camera. And she knows that when the full moon is gone, her brother will once again be independent. It is decided.
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The blonde on the left with the big ruby lips, she looks at the camera but isn't focused on it. Her mind is somewhere much different. She is debating in her head the best sacrifice to make during the upcoming full moon.
She grew up with only a mother and her brother. He's the man to the right of her. Their mother worked three jobs: a waitress, a homemaker, and a whore. Her house was her office for two of the three jobs. It was not uncommon for her daughter and her son to see her with strange men, who would leave late in the evening or early in the morning. The daughter didn't mind.
When this girl was all but thirteen, she made some special friends. They were older and more knowledgeable of the world. They showed her that there was a spirit realm that could give her life meaning. She had nothing else of substance in her life so she engaged. It all started with a harmless sacrifice.
One night the group had gathered somewhere in the hills, dressed in black. After a few traditional prayers, one of the members pulled a live cat from a bag. A short rope was attached to its collar and hooked to a stake. Then the group of five all drew knives. That was the first of many sacrifices that this particular girl would make.
As she grew older, some would call her a serial killer if they knew what she did on the weekends. Others would say she was just cutting down the excess population. And still, others would say that she was just a confused Satanist with a troubled past. She wasn't troubled though. Her head was clear and she knew exactly what she was doing. She sacrificed her mother on her twenty-first birthday. Her brother and her made love next to the corpse. She loved him as only a brother but he had always wanted her. She wanted to share the moment with someone close to her. That was the only time their souls would ever truly connect and neither of them would ever regret it.
She is to herself. If looks could kill, she'd love to watch people die. She hasn't sacrificed in over a month and now her thirst to please her god is poking her heart. She wants to burn her brother's wife at the stake. That's the woman to her right. It's partly because she loves her brother, and since the night that they shared their mother's death there has been a deep connection, but mostly, it's because the woman is a God fearing, too good to be true charming person. Her brother has changed since he married her. She wants things back to the way they were.
She knows the pure couple because she was a friend of the soldier's lover. She absolutely adores his wife but she doesn't know why. The other couple is mediocre in her eyes. She could live with them or she could sacrifice them. Either way.
The full moon is coming. She knows this as she looks into the camera. And she knows that when the full moon is gone, her brother will once again be independent. It is decided.
11.26.2007
Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 2)
THE SOCIALITE
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the left is the purest. They are truly in love and produce envy from onlookers because of their natural displays of affection. She looks right into the heart of the camera lens. She always does. Sure, she dresses nice to impress her peers and random passersby, but really, she does it for the photographs.
Her eyes truly are the window to her soul -- so transparent and open. It's those eyes that tell her story: where she's been, whom she's been with, what she's seen. Her eyes weave the tale of how she was born into wealth with everything in abundance. However, all these things she later grew to appreciate, and even love, were mere ways to coat her early years with as much gold and fine jewelry as possible in order to blind the poor girl.
From the minute she came into this world, her father had a strong affection for her. He loved her -- in every sense of the word. Although he was a very busy businessman with a small empire in the palm of his hand, he took the time to be the one there for his daughter. He would insist on changing her, bathing her, and putting her to sleep. But he did not do these things out of love as much as he did them out of desire. Before the girl had even developed a substantial memory, she had already endured things she would want to forget. Her father's hands were tools of disgust that would forever frame her as someone always drawing attention. He loved her red hair and those big, beautiful, deep green eyes. They saw everything he ever did. Sometimes they were glazed over with tears but they could always make out the blurred vision of subtle force joined with a smile.
As she grew older, her father showered her with gifts -- any and everything she wanted. At first, it was simply because he was in love with her. But as he continued this behavior, he realized that it seemed to make his daughter forget whatever unbearable things he would do to her in the night or when his wife was away. The girl never brought up the sexual encounters. She acted as if they had never happened. All she cared about was the attention. She got it at home. She got it at school. She even got it on the street. If she wasn't getting attention, something was wrong and she would run home to Daddy, who was always there to give her what she needed. The girl's mother was unaware of the two's relationship in the beginning. But one night, her building suspicions came to fruition.
It was Christmas Eve and the teenage girl was opening the presents designated for that night. Her father was drinking. He had just lost a dynamic piece of his empire. His wife was in the kitchen baking desserts and preparing for the following day. Wandering over to his daughter, he sat behind her on the ground. She was full of smiles and she revealed expensive gifts. After opening a diamond-encrusted necklace, she hugged her father. He squeezed her tight and kissed her ear. She went to pull away but the scotch-induced strength was overpowering. He kissed, and licked, and groped, and smiled. She stared at the necklace to take her mind off of it. Then the girl's mother entered and screamed. She was holding a knife. She dropped it and stood against the wall as her husband turned to see her. She questioned his actions through tears and he slowly approached. His secret was out. He picked up the knife and stood in front of his wife. The girl sat on the floor, watching it all. Her father told his wife that she would never be able to let his secret out. She promised to keep her mouth closed but this was not enough. He slit her throat and she fell to the ground. He turned around slowly and saw his daughter silently crying. Dropping the knife, he walked upstairs. A few minutes later, a gun blast echoed through the house.
Years went by and the girl came to be nothing less than a local sensation. She used her mass inherited wealth and status to demand attention from everyone around her. When she met her husband, it changed everything. He didn't pay as much attention to her as everyone else. She decided this is what she needed -- someone completely opposite her father. That way, there was a lesser chance of her past and volatile instability coming out. After all, she didn't want someone close to her to die because of overaffection. Everyone who knew her secrets was dead and she yearned for the companionship of someone normal. The veteran she married after knowing him two months was perfect. He had a simple life and an uncomplicated past. She had found someone who wouldn't read the fine print written on her cavernous eyes.
This is why she looks straight into the camera lens. This is why her eyes seem vast and endless. She still wears the pearls, still dresses up, still makes people turn their heads. She loves her husband. His normalcy is the perfect compliment to her disturbing past. She can't risk anyone learning of her secrets. If someone did, she would have to do exactly what she had seen her father do all those years ago.
Seven faces.
Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.
The couple on the left is the purest. They are truly in love and produce envy from onlookers because of their natural displays of affection. She looks right into the heart of the camera lens. She always does. Sure, she dresses nice to impress her peers and random passersby, but really, she does it for the photographs.
Her eyes truly are the window to her soul -- so transparent and open. It's those eyes that tell her story: where she's been, whom she's been with, what she's seen. Her eyes weave the tale of how she was born into wealth with everything in abundance. However, all these things she later grew to appreciate, and even love, were mere ways to coat her early years with as much gold and fine jewelry as possible in order to blind the poor girl.
From the minute she came into this world, her father had a strong affection for her. He loved her -- in every sense of the word. Although he was a very busy businessman with a small empire in the palm of his hand, he took the time to be the one there for his daughter. He would insist on changing her, bathing her, and putting her to sleep. But he did not do these things out of love as much as he did them out of desire. Before the girl had even developed a substantial memory, she had already endured things she would want to forget. Her father's hands were tools of disgust that would forever frame her as someone always drawing attention. He loved her red hair and those big, beautiful, deep green eyes. They saw everything he ever did. Sometimes they were glazed over with tears but they could always make out the blurred vision of subtle force joined with a smile.
As she grew older, her father showered her with gifts -- any and everything she wanted. At first, it was simply because he was in love with her. But as he continued this behavior, he realized that it seemed to make his daughter forget whatever unbearable things he would do to her in the night or when his wife was away. The girl never brought up the sexual encounters. She acted as if they had never happened. All she cared about was the attention. She got it at home. She got it at school. She even got it on the street. If she wasn't getting attention, something was wrong and she would run home to Daddy, who was always there to give her what she needed. The girl's mother was unaware of the two's relationship in the beginning. But one night, her building suspicions came to fruition.
It was Christmas Eve and the teenage girl was opening the presents designated for that night. Her father was drinking. He had just lost a dynamic piece of his empire. His wife was in the kitchen baking desserts and preparing for the following day. Wandering over to his daughter, he sat behind her on the ground. She was full of smiles and she revealed expensive gifts. After opening a diamond-encrusted necklace, she hugged her father. He squeezed her tight and kissed her ear. She went to pull away but the scotch-induced strength was overpowering. He kissed, and licked, and groped, and smiled. She stared at the necklace to take her mind off of it. Then the girl's mother entered and screamed. She was holding a knife. She dropped it and stood against the wall as her husband turned to see her. She questioned his actions through tears and he slowly approached. His secret was out. He picked up the knife and stood in front of his wife. The girl sat on the floor, watching it all. Her father told his wife that she would never be able to let his secret out. She promised to keep her mouth closed but this was not enough. He slit her throat and she fell to the ground. He turned around slowly and saw his daughter silently crying. Dropping the knife, he walked upstairs. A few minutes later, a gun blast echoed through the house.
Years went by and the girl came to be nothing less than a local sensation. She used her mass inherited wealth and status to demand attention from everyone around her. When she met her husband, it changed everything. He didn't pay as much attention to her as everyone else. She decided this is what she needed -- someone completely opposite her father. That way, there was a lesser chance of her past and volatile instability coming out. After all, she didn't want someone close to her to die because of overaffection. Everyone who knew her secrets was dead and she yearned for the companionship of someone normal. The veteran she married after knowing him two months was perfect. He had a simple life and an uncomplicated past. She had found someone who wouldn't read the fine print written on her cavernous eyes.
This is why she looks straight into the camera lens. This is why her eyes seem vast and endless. She still wears the pearls, still dresses up, still makes people turn their heads. She loves her husband. His normalcy is the perfect compliment to her disturbing past. She can't risk anyone learning of her secrets. If someone did, she would have to do exactly what she had seen her father do all those years ago.
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