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Ink

Introduction

He spent two long days with his parchment, quill and ink. He may have found his freedom, but he was still a prisoner in this home for the damned, governed by the evil thoughts aroused in his once pure memory as he scribed his perverted words down for the world to read. If he did not have a quill in his hand he felt the stories welling up inside him dying to burst out and killing him in the process, it was a painful experience and combination, was writing and isolation. The only people he had spoken to in the past month were the doctor, who merely taunted him, the Abbe, who did not trust him at all and was so naïve Coulmier wanted to bang his head off a brick wall and, of course, Madame LeClerc, who was about as interesting to talk to as a wall - he did plenty of that too.

But no, he enjoyed writing. It was a place where he could escape into his own world and copy it down so that others may enter it. He managed to get one published, once, but it was only through cunning on his part. The doctor found out of course and confiscated all of his quills, except the emergency supply he hid behind loose bricks dotted about the room.

He heard the footsteps outside his door. "Linen." They said - it had no effect on him when the words did not come from Madeline's voice. "Linen." The woman repeated.

Ah, the woman. He never spoke to her but he knew her well down to the very last movement of her tiny feet. She starred in one of his novels. She had been in the house of evil for a good year and hated every moment of it. She supposedly had an unhealthy obsession with her next door neighbour who, in truth, was her lover and of course her under-eating. But refusing to believe her pleas they locked her up like a, well, a crazy person. Perhaps she was a little crazy, she didn't know. But by today's standards she would be considered anorexic as she claimed she 'hates the taste, texture and reasons behind food'.

She had dirty blonde hair verging on the shade of brown that was cut under her chin and curled up around her elfin like white face that was filthy. Her lips were dry and in a constant pout and her cheekbones stuck out of her skin like a skull. Her body was straight up and down like a boy's and her eyes were unusually large like saucers, the colour of grass. The final thing you would notice about her was that she was slightly taller than average and amazingly skinny, so much so that her ribs poked out of her pale blue linen dress. "Linen." The only word he ever heard uttered from her mouth. She was coarse and common, he could tell just by that one word.

The little hatch was opened at the foot of the door and he handed his dirty sheets into her bony, long witch-like fingers. Immediately after the door was shut and the footsteps walked on as she repeated that word 'linen'.

"I am suppressed!" He yelled unexpectedly. "Let me walk in the gardens! Let me eat like a king! Let me fuck!"

Everyone knew the once noble Abbe had become corrupt. Rather than practising the heavenly virtues he craved the deadly sins and tried to commit them all. The main thing he hated about being caged was the fact he was still a virgin and was desperate to remedy his life of chastity or celibacy as he constantly lusted for the pleasures of human contact.

He heard them, the footsteps of the foul man who had imprisoned him approaching. The window opened and in stared the piercing eyes of the devil himself. "We have warned you constantly that if these violent impulses and vulgar language continues, you will be punished. I have been patient this far Coulmier, but I have no choice. You will be made an example of."

The door opened and he knew what was coming. He almost jumped for joy at the thought of seeing birds and trees again, smelling the fresh air from the outside in its full glory. "Yes!" He yelled as two men walked in. He hopped up and down and so was restrained as they removed his clothes. They were too busy punishing him to notice his writing equipment - excellent security. When he was left in his bare wan skin they dragged him out as he kicked and screamed in elation. He was taken outside. "Trees!" He pointed and grinned manically before they tied his hands to the wooden posts.

The most disgusting man you have ever seen stood on the platform with his thick, black, leather whip and laughed deeply. He got pleasure out of torture and so constantly tried to persuade the doctor to let him torture.

The whipping began on his slight nude back but he did not notice the feeling of it, he just stared blissfully at nature and all of the things it had to offer. It was one of the best experiences of his life. His back was now red and raw from the beatings. It stung badly and blood dripped from each individual wound, covering his whole body in a crimson paint.

"Do you have anything to say Coulmier?"

"Yes." He felt good and sly. He stared at each spectator with hidden ecstasy as they stared blankly back with vague disgust. "I have something to say."

"Then speak, tell us what you have to say." The doctor was smug - he would repent and apologise for sure, he knew it. He hated the former Abbe with all of his heart, for he was the creation of the disgusting miscreant who occupied his room before him. How could a man so devoted to God be contaminated so easily? It was almost as if he had been violated and raped of all the goodness within him. A man of God now a man of the devil.

"More." His eyes glazed over and he concentrated on each blow that was to follow with satisfaction and pleasure from the pain he would receive every day of his life from now on. He relished it and begged for more pushing him over the edge of insanity.