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My dearest readers and random visitors,

I am now proud to announce the opening on my new site http://www.venetianredstories.com/. It is here that my new stories will spurt their semen to fertilize your deepest thoughts and dreams; it is here that my secret desires with unfold to reveal themselves to you.

Moreover, I am elated with the release of my book Venetian Red, details of which you can find in the new site.

I love you always,

Alithia

Eros and Thanatos

(story in progress)

http://youtu.be/ffzINEejOs0

The Inner Atmosphere

(photo by Tomohide Ikeya)


There is a slow shift in the atmosphere inside me. I can feel it day by day expanding, spreading. I can smell it.
I am pregnant again.
If I can smell it, so can they. It doesn't make me happy, but it doesn't sadden me either. Love sometimes does things like that and even witches obey to the laws of nature, not that the Congregation will see it this way. Soon, they will come swarming around me like flies with their judgements and decisions that I will have to obey or else...the witches are coming to take it away.

"Whatever is done, is done." I say to myself and go on to pick the herbs of the day: Parsley, Ginger, Feverfew, Rosemary, Sage, Queen Anne's lace seeds, Mugwort, Pennyroyal, Angelica, Rue, Tansy, Juniper root.  Even they feel the change within me for they fall on my hand without touching them.
"Thank you." I mutter and put them in my pocket with a smile. Slowly, I walk inside the house and close the door behind me hoping it will keep the smell from spreading any further.
I live alone and I always liked it this way. Occasionally, company arrives, usually involuntarily, sometimes unexpectedly, stays a little while, rarely more than a while, and then it always departs, always painfully, never to arrive quite the same again. The older I get, the less it comes my way.

No, this is not proper way of the witch, but I am old enough to decide for myself and young enough to have the power to convince them I won't have it any other way.

But this is different, what is done, cannot be undone.


By the end of the third moon the air changed. It came cold and demanding, scattering all familiar scents including my own. Apparently, the clean-up had begun.
By noon the following day the house was surrounded by dark-clad women all veiled in black and white. Upon seeing me the witches whipped off their coverings to reveal satyr-sized penises pointing to the sky.
"What is this?" My voice rose above the wind.
Myrth floated up and gliding in the air stood gracefully in front of me. In the wink of an eye she raised her hand and slapped me on the face with all the force she could muster.

(Demon. Mikhail Vrubel)




"With a Daemon! Of all the warmbloods and coldbloods of this world you let a Daemon roger your arse! YOU SLUT!" she shouted and her hand rose again. This time I caught it in the air and held it there.
"It wasn't my arse Mother, as you can see from the outcome. And yes, it was a daemon, and if you don't like it you can take your penises and shove them up your arses!" I shouted looking out at odd assortment of witches and genitalia.
"We came to take the creature away. You already have a son, no witch can ever have another, especially from a Daemon."
"You are early. First, I should give birth to him and then you can take him away."
"That cannot be. This boy will not be born, I will not have a daemon bearing my name roaming the Earth."
"What are you planning to do then. Mother?" I said and the baby inside me twitched.

The women formed a circle around us and they started to sing. They spread their arms and their fingers lit. Witch-fire spread on their arms and head. Their heads flaming torches, filled the air with a stench so unbearable I had to keep my breath locked inside my lungs..the daemon in me didn't like that.
Their voices rose above the smoke keeping my thoughts from forming, blocking my focus.

The daemon wept. A single tear, like a cut of a razor trickled down his face and scalding hot fell inside the small drum my belly had become.

"How dare you mock me like this?" I whispered. "How dare you defy me?"

My inner atmosphere shifted once more.

Tears welled-up behind my eyelids and fell on my face. Me and the daemon were weeping, though for different reasons; he, from fear of dying, me, from a deadly anger that had slept for so long, it had forgotten its nature.
I could feel their spell wrapping around my baby, shaking it, burning it to death. I started to shake while their words pierced my skin, like a woman possessed. I felt terribly alone.

I spread my arms and allowed the tears to fall. They fell from my eyes and mouth, my ears and nose. The salty water burnt my mouth and my eyes as it started to rise. My hair turned to cold, sea-water, which rose above the witches' heads in a fierce cyclone. My arms turned to waves, huge and dementing, calling the icy, northern wind, calling the rain. Thunder roared and lightning flashed over their mad faces.

"Stop it! Stop it now!" my mother's voice a drowned whisper.

I rose all the way to the roof and called it. I asked for it to come and cleanse us all from this madness..and it obeyed as before.

"No, don't do it Hydra.." my mother pleaded inside my head.
"You should have thought of that before you decided to steal what is mine. The daemon IS mine." I said and turned my head around to face the house.

"RUN!" My mother shouted and the witches took flight. Only Mother stood her ground facing me and It.

The wave, like a giant snake coiled and rose high above the roof, dark and cold. It rolled and turned in the rain, accumulating water, the white light of the witch-storm cutting it in half now and then. I rose high above it. I commanded it. The daemon inside me tossed and turned in a delightful anticipation!

"Release..." I muttered and the wave came crushing down breaking the house in two, washing over my mother, it mated with the storm and pulled the witches back with its icy tentacles.
The storm was alive, water trickled down their lungs, filling them, lifting them off the ground, extinguishing their fires for ever.
The boy spread his tiny body and closed his eyes falling into a dreamless sleep.

"He bears my name and not yours. The daemons will come for him when it is time and not before.....Enough."  I whispered.

My arms touched my belly and the water lifted and pulled back. My inner atmosphere settled again as did my feet on the moist ground.  The house went back into place and I yawned.

"If I see you in twenty years from now, it will be too soon." I said and walked inside.

Distortion

    (photo by Andre Kertesz)


"Look at that monster."
"Yes, she is one of the rarest species, we are lucky to have her here, she might as well be the last of her kind."
"Can she talk?"
"Yes, of course but we are not allowed to talk to her."
"Why not?"
"Because of the Red Fear disease....you don't know?"
"In the past people talked to her, befriended her but then someone got closer and she infected him with red fear..."
"Why red?"
"That was the colour of his fear, red.  Each of us carries a different colour. Anyway, his fear was red, so we called the phenomenon  the Red Fear disease and  decided never to communicate for more than specific amount of time with her again."
"Specific amount of time? How long is that?"
"It depends on the interlocutor really. It starts with Brave, which is done mostly by written messages, and goes all the way to Wimp with almost no interaction at all. Do you want to try? What colour is your fear?"
" I honestly don't know.."
"Do you want to find out? Go pee and get in there..we don't want you wetting your pants now, do we?"
                             
                                    .                      .                       .


"Hello, I am Alithia." I type on the big tablet the zoo keeper gave me. Something flashes at the corner of the cage and the monster opens her eyes. She picks up the other tablet and looks at my message.
"I am Distortion." she types and my tablet lights up.
"I want to hear your voice." I type and send. Distortion smiles kindly and shakes her head in negation. My tablet lights up again.
"Whatever I say, you will distort." the message said.
"I have heard and seen many things, Distortion. Let me try." I type and send.

Distortion sighs and puts the tablet down. She looks up at me, her dark brown eyes crowned with dark, purple circles and sits up straight. She stares at me for a few moments undecided, then picks up the tablet again and starts to type.

"I will type and speak, for you to see what I mean." her message flashes and I nod in agreement.

Distortion types something on her pad and my tablet flashes. I stare at her face as her mouth opens. It is bigger than I had expected, it opens and then closes again forming words.

"I want you to be my....."
The sound of her voice enters my ears and spreads through my body.

"I want you to be mine, I want to consume you, possess you... Look how pale you are, and you call me a monster...you...what are you?"

I looked at the tablet. " I want to be your friend." the message flashes.

Distortion types again and looks up. Her mouth, opens forming a slithering snake, her tongue rolls...

"I need someone to....."

"I need someone to feed me, Alithia, you feed me your dreams and hopes and fears. I want to rule your life, own it, I want you to obey my thirst, be my slave."

"......hold me." the message said.

"I can't hear you." I muttered. "What colour is my fear? Show me! I want to know."

Distortion puts her tablet down and nods. Her mass of flesh moves on the floor and quickly towers above me. Her voice enters my head. I close my eyes and open to Distortion's words...my words.

"I will never love you, nobody ever will, you will never be accepted, you will always be rejected, and looked down on. You will beg for love, yet never find it. You are feared and rejected. You are worthless and all your loved ones will scorn you for who you are, they want you dead or gone. Until the day you die, nobody your hold you while you sleep, nobody wants to hold you while you dream, you are alone, dead and white. WHITE... Look at yourself inside me. Open your eyes Alithia...open them and face your fear, for it is who you are."

My eyes are wet with blood and so are my trousers. I wipe the blood away but I feel more coming out. From every pore I bleed.  I look inside Distortion knowing that the White Fear will come for me, the white fear is there, always there waiting for a sign of weakness. The floor is drenched with blood and I shiver.

The tablet next to me flashes and I place a bloody hand on the glass.

"I am sorry." the message says.

Pandora

(Photo by Thomas Hodge)

"I am Pandora and everybody knows me because of my box which, as you can see, is in fact a large jar. As the myth goes, I am the first woman on Earth and my box was a God's gift which I should never have opened but as you all know...I did.
But I was spared despite my evil deed. You know why?
 Because they knew I was going to open the bloody thing, as it never had a lock and because they wanted me to keep it forever, negotiate it, keep people away from it, keep it sealed.
 Now, you want to open my box again and use it to your liking. We both know what that will bring, don't we now....but we still know you are never going to quit until you do.
You want my box so badly, your spine quivers. You think you can possess it, own it.
Who am I to refuse you? I am too tired to negotiate. I offered you myself in return and you choose to ignore me, reject me.. So...
So here it is... my precious love. The box, which like I said, is in fact a large jar.
My advice: Pandora is enough for you, turn away from it, for once it's opened, it will claim and consume you."

Having finished her long, needless monologue, Pandora sat on top of the wooden box, folded her white legs and looked at me coldly.
"Pandora.." I said quietly and walked towards the jar. "I don't want you, never did, never will. In fact, there hasn't been a man in recorded history that ever wanted you more than your box. Why would I be any different?" I asked picking up the jar which turned out to be very light.
"Is this empty?" I asked and shook it. "It seems empty.." I muttered and shook it again.

Pandora's eyes fell to the floor, her skin rejection-pale, disdain-white.
"Open it." she muttered.

My fingers curled around the lid and I lifted it up. The jar was empty.
I pressed my face inside to get a closer look, it was big, bigger than I thought at first, like a rabbit hole it was, an earthy cave.
"Hello!" I shouted and walked deeper inside. It was cold and dark and empty. She had cheated me the horny bitch, there was nothing in the jar after all.
"FUCK YOU PANDORA!!!! " I shouted and my voice hit me from all directions, it shook the walls, they started to crumble around me, a large boulder hit me on my back, I ran outside.
It was a familiar street, I was back home.

"There he is! Get him!"
I turned around.
"What are you doing here? What do you want? I told you never to come here again."
"Why did you kill them? Why did you do it?"
"Killed who?"
The living room smelt of piss and vomit. I looked at the ceiling. My mother, my father, my sister and me all hanged from the ceiling, blindfolded and naked.  A large cleaver was still locked in my father's thigh. I looked at my broken body, blood was dripping out of my mouth..so young I looked, so strong.
"No!" I said, " I didn't do this.."
"You killed your own mother..you did.."
"No, I love my mother, I could never kill her.."
"You killed me, and you loved me too."
"What? No, it is the other way around and you know it."
Her jaw fell to her feet and golden beetles walked out of her throat.
"Take one" her eyes said, "For good luck."
"Don't you want to fuck now? I am all infested with your love..rejection-pale, disdain-white." she said and came towards me.
"Stay fucking away!" I shouted and went for dad's cleaver. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.
I hacked her body to pieces. The beetles, scared, scattered everywhere, some even climbed on top of me, they smelt of her. Young, and mad, and covered with butter.

"I need to get to work, I will be late." I mutter and wipe my hands on my shirt.
 I look at my family hanging from the ceiling. I should get them down, but I will be soo late, tooo late. I don't have time for things like that, I have too many obligations, too many things to do, no time no time...

"Where do you think you're going young man?"
"To work, I need to get to work."
"Now, now, calm down, you can't go to work every single day. I thought I told you that... You can't go to work as often as you please. You need to wait for my permission, you need written permit my sweet love."
"They are going to fire me. I need to get there."
The woman pulled a large needle out of her pocket..
"When I shove this into your sick eye-socket, you'll sing a different song."
I raised the cleaver and hacked her face in half. She didn't budge.
"You're fired!" her mouth shouted. "You have no work, no money and no time."

"I am young!" I shouted, "I can get a new job and make more money, I am young and time is ALL I have you fucking bitch! NOONE CAN FIRE ME!!!! I AM INVINCIBLE, ETERNAL, PERFECT!"

"Can you sing? Got a good voice?" the dead woman says. "You know I'd sing to YOUR mic any time, precious.." the tongue escapes the mouth and touches my naked skin right above the belt.

The cleaver has a life of its own, I turn her to mince, a pile as high a freshly dug grave.
"Here boy..." I say to a little dog, as white as snow, it smells the heap and licks his nose.
"Eat up, it's fresh!"
My hands leave a read streak on its fur as I caress it. So weak, so vulnerable, I can make it love me and then hack it clean...but this needs time and I need to get to work...

I turn my back to it and lie on the grass. The sun is shining on my face and my eyes close. The air is light and full of smells. Flowers and tears, flowers and rain..
"I can find another job, I can get another house, a new lover, I have time."

Bang! Bang!

My eyes open to darkness.
"What the fuck!"  I say and sit up only to hit my head against the box.
"LET ME OUT!!! Jesus, you are burying me alive...I AM ALIVE!"
I hit the box with my fists, I can't see the sun from the cracks any more ..I hear the thud of the soil hitting the lid. I hate this box, it's so small, it smells of rot and decay.
So many bones around me, skulls and skin...death, disease, despair...

"Time's up, my love."  Pandora said.
"Oh no no no your time is up, you are old and weak, look at you, all wrinkled and needy.  I am young and eternal, remember?"
"Are you?" she said and placed a large floor mirror in front of my chair.

I was in a wheelchair, older than earth, frailer than snow.
"No!" I said, "It can't be...I want to leave the box, I choose you! I choose you, instead!"

"You made your choice, now now..." she says and wipes my tears. "It's time to die my young bird." she said and caresses my bare skull. "Goodbye!"

She steps into the mirror. I see her sitting on the wooden box, folding her white legs. She gently places the lid  back into place.

He ate her whole: A love story

Three days before 2012 expires and she still finds herself hanging from the same hook; she is naked and parts of her are already missing. However, she looks at him full of understanding as he sets the table for yet another meal...poor man, he is always so hungry.

Even though she is skinnier than when he found her a couple of months before, this never puts him off his food. Piece by piece he cuts her off with a long blade raw and dripping and eats her on a fancy dinner plate in the candlelight as she hangs there with a bitter smile, all pleased that she gave what he needed, yet sad that it didn't earn her a kiss.

Yet, it is odd, he is never truly pleased, always treats her with scorn, always punishing her for giving him love, her skin is too thick, her blood too sour, her bones without marrow and she cries and cries. You see she loves him so. She wishes she were fatter, with bigger breasts for him to feast on, she wishes to see him smile, to hear him talk, he never talks only chews once in a while and then walks away, punishing her for being so lean.

Tick tock, tick tock, the clock ticks the old year away and she looks at herself in the mirror he bought for her  so that she can look at what's left: no legs, no flesh on her ribs at all, liver gone, her right eye, her hair all to the floor. Poor girl, there's really nothing left for him to feast on yet she waits for the clock to strike 12  to finally do what he had promised when he first installed the hook in the dark, narrow room; to finally eat her whole.

He sewed her mouth shut because he doesn't want to hear her speak. She never understands the pain he goes through chewing on her bones, she doesn't know how it feels to truly love someone because she has never eaten human flesh, she has never cut a limb of a beloved, she doesn't know how it is to clean after one's mess; she is always so dynamically headstrong, always complaining, demanding for more, the bitch.

"What's left?" he asks and stands before her before the clock strikes 12. It's been a week perhaps two. She's missed him so. Her left eye, short-sighted as it is, scans his body for signs of love. He looks so tall and fierce, his blade catching the candle light on the fancy tablecloth.
She wants to speak but she can't, her mouth is sewn tight.  She cannot move so she blinks twice.
"It's my heart" she thinks," Happy New Year my love."
She dies of joy before she dies of pain.
He lifts her off her hook with one hand and swirls her round and round the room. She catches a glimpse of some coloured lights and a chair.
"He cares, at last he cares." she shouts in her mind full of joy and then it's over.

He places her on the dinner table and rips her heart out through the exposed rib cage. It still beats and her ghost moans with pleasure of his delight.

The clock strikes 12 and he licks his fingers meticulously.

"Time too see the parents," he mutters lifting the big rubbish bag off the floor.

Bitter truths: A Christmas story.

    (photo by Holger Droste)

"Persephone get dressed, another batch has arrived, hurry!"

The girl moaned, she hated being awaken like this do deal with something that repulsed her. Her limbs still ached from her husband's late night visit. She needed more sleep, definitely more sleep.
"On Christmas Day? Must be bitter to die on Christmas..." she muttered.
"It's bitter to die on any day, my queen. Now you mush hurry, he's already at the lakes" he old woman said placing a white linen dress on her bed.
"I bet he's thrilled!" she said pulling the cold linen over her head. "More toys for him to play with ...the necrophiliac!" she added, bitterness and anger dripping thick on the floor.
"If he were what you say, he wouldn't have you, would he now?...You'll get used to him and his ways.." the old woman said brushing her golden hair with a gold-crusted bone comb. "He is good at what he does" she added, "And anyway...in a few more months you'll be able to go home again.."
"Only to come back here..I hate him.." Persephone said but the old woman pretended not to hear.

Barefoot, she walked out on the damp street and was startled to find a large silver moon hanging from the sky. She stared at it wide-eyed, trying to work out what it meant and why He has gone into so much trouble. The moon looked real, the wet streets reflected its pale light making everything around her look brilliantly...dead. Her spirits fell.
When she got to the mucky river she saw the boat empty already and Jack counting his gold.

"Merry Christmas Jack...you busy bee." she added and sat down on the mucky concrete river bank. The black waters below her sizzled with the silvery moonlight and even the ancient boat glistered with it here and there. Jack, however, like a black hole sucked all the light within him and reflected none.
He raised his head, lowered his cloak and looked over him.  His black, volcanic eyes with long lashes like spider legs, rested on her feet for a moment before locking on her transparent eyes. His pale mouth was immediately drawn into a smile the stubble on his chin and cheeks barely noticeable.

"Merry Christmas Persephone. " he said in his warm, husky voice. "Got you a little present!" he said and she saw his hand rummaging his right pocket.
"What is it?" she asked her hands into a prayer over her chest.
"Oh I little something I found while picking up customers." he said, raised his bony arm to the sky and shook his palm.
The thing jingled.
His white palm was warm to the touch though her hand was dead cold. The little golden bell let out a chocked squeal as she lifted it to her eyes.
"Pretty." she said
"That's what I thought too." Jack said, "I immediately thought of you." he added
He locked his eyes on hers and she felt herself drawn to him like a bee to the honey. Death was warm and sweet.
Once he sensed his affect on her, he pulled his eyes away and bent low to pick up his oars.
"I've got to run, there are more waiting for me on the other end..."
"Busy day.." Persephone said.
"Christmas is.." he added and raised his hand in goodbye as the boat slithered away. He was quickly lost in the mist.

Persephone jingled the bell once more. Its sound sent ripples over the water and made the moon shiver. She pecked it and tucked it in her breast. She knew she was late so she started to run.

Intro for www.venetianredstories.com

DIY me

(Painting by Thomas Eakins)

The book would not sit still, the pages kept flicking back to 995. But he had just began. Page 12, he was trying to read page 12.
"Damn it".
 The pages needed something heavy to keep them at bay, but what could he use now, what could he use..?
His right hand was covered with  blood and muck and so was his scalpel, no place to put it unless he wanted to create a mess around him, which he resented. He was always meticulous and organised, and clean. Above all.

The woman's hand, white as plaster, had fallen from the table and hang just below his crotch. He kept pushing it out of his way but it just couldn't stay put. With a light thud he forced the hand onto the book. It could be more useful this way, holding the pages in place, allowing him to finish his work.
The scalpel run across her belly smoothly as if she was made of butter. He was happy he had purchased it even though it had cost him a small fortune.
"...# 18 for deep cuts and scraping, with Zirconium Nitride coated edge to improve sharpness and edge retention." He would have gone for a polymer coated blade, but the shop assistant had insisted.

In his line of work having the right tools was of highest importance. Every construction in his house had demanded investing money on tools on way or another.
The floor lamp, which he considered his masterpiece, had cost him more than 1000 bucks give or take.
However it was not the money gave value to that particular piece.
Removing the spine without breaking it was a task the required both precision and power, not to mention luring, trapping and killing the subject suitable for the task. Preparing the  intestines for the wiring, finding the proper part of skin to make the lamp hat, painting it with blood.....so much work but oh so rewarding.

But no tools ever went to waste. He used them again and again to make his house the way he always wanted it to be....basically organic. The only thing that remained after his DIY frenzy is food.

(Body Art by Francois Robert)