Abe followed the choking, cloudy, bonedust trail up to Spire and knocked somewhat reluctantly upon it's meaty door. As cold flesh parted he was met by his master's avatar. A spindly creature, more loose cartilage than grace, rubbery, and dripping with salvation.
Or at least something like it.
But Spire's fleshy door closed, and Abe, naked and crying, was denied the psychotropic heroin-white paste that dripped form his master's pores. Perhaps the god had found a new boy to lick him. Abe felt dejected... and oddly disillusioned.
He took solace only in a magenta knifeblade hidden tightly in his boot.
As Abe drew the blade in thoughts of cool revenge, machinations forming like cockwork in his once placid eyes, it might as well have cut a smile straight across the boy's tear stained face.
Abe followed the choking, cloudy, bonedust trail up to Spire and knocked somewhat reluctantly upon it's meaty door. As cold flesh parted he was met by his master's avatar. A spindly creature, more loose cartilage than grace, rubbery, and dripping with salvation.
Or at least something like it.
Before the fleshy door closed, Abe dove in and drove his blade into the chest of his master's avatar. Imaging, as he hacked away, how the insides of a god would taste.
When he calmed his stabbing to begin his dissection Abe realized that he was no longer assaulting his master's gangly avatar, but his own lifeless form.
He woke up.
Abe followed the choking, cloudy, bonedust trail up to Spire and knocked somewhat reluctantly upon it's meaty door. As cold flesh parted he was met by his master's avatar. A spindly creature, more loose cartilage than grace, rubbery, and dripping with salvation.
Or at least something like it.
"Dripping With Salivation"
Copyright: © 2011 Ash Lomen
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