Their poison fingers
That wrote the poison lines
Their poison lingers
What a tragedy when their fingers are removed
~*~Where the Slime Live- Morbid Angel~*~
You deserve everything that shall befall you.
All alone, slain by thine hand.
Deaden her womb and the filth it contains.
All ye be welcome save sinners of the faith.
Pea-colored eyes flew open, slender fingers falling upon her midriff. Memories rinsed through her mind, racing past with startling alacrity.
"Fret not Princess," croaked a voice dry as a crackling roast. "Still in one piece thou art."
With great difficulty, Raylah managed to turn her head. There was light, orange and dim, from the dancing flames beside her. Awashed in the smoky glow, sat an old woman. Her heavily lined face was the grainy color of silt and had the look of a wood caving. Thin lips, hollow cheeks and a hooked nose completed the rest of her countenance. Pewter-colored hair that was both sparse and coarse hung in ropy threads down her back, squirming in the scant breeze like a burrow full of larvae. Her most notable feature however, were her eyes. They were large and completely round, like silver coins. A milky blur robbed her of her sight and Raylah was reminded of mist covering the moon on a chilly night.
Raylah attempted to sit up and found that she could with perfect ease. All the varieties of staggering pain she'd been imprisoned with had vanished entirely, as though it had only been some sort of vivid dream. Glancing down, her dress spoke of a different story. The hemline was caked with muddy dirt and a thick liquid had dyed the material a rusty black. The large smear that stretched across the expanse of her midriff bore a remarkable similarity to the stains upon the hem of her dress.
"Something dreadfully horrid has happened to me," Raylah whispered, blood draining from her cheeks. She struggled against bitter tears.
The old lady turned blind eyes upon her. "Feels it as though something horrid has happened?"
"Well no but-" A frown creased smooth skin. "How is it that you know who I am? They knew also. Who are you?"
The old lady cackled and Raylah was repulsed to see that she was toothless, her gums the color of a fresh bruise. "How soon you forget me, Princess Raylah! I am Nettle Fulsome, Binder of the Splintered Tomes and Deadened Corridors. Upon many occasions have we met."
Chills snapped up and down Raylah's spine. She couldn't imagine that she would ever meet with the likes of Nettle willingly. There was something sinister about the old woman. Her aura skulked against Raylah like the pestilence of a cellar rat. The Princess pushed grimy black locks from her cheek and avoided those marble-like eyes. "How did you find me? What...what has happened to me?"
A gummy smirk stretched itself across mottled lips. "You were sliced into like a slab of sogging meat-roast."
Raylah stifled a gasp as her fingers pressed at her stomach. How horrid the old woman was! How could Nettle make light of what had been done to her? She clenched her eyes shut and took a slow breath. Her stomach was knotting into itself with acute nausea. The urge to retch was tremendous.
"Thine love child shall never come pass." This was said with a great deal of satisfaction. "In deadened halls shall it remain, wrought with decay."
Vapid eyes flew open. "How can this be? I remember naught! I do not even know who...and why they did to me...such cruelty had they shown!" Full lips trembled as the memory of the terrifying things that had happened to her sank deep. Unable to hold back any longer, Raylah burst into soul-searing tears. She wept for the loss of herself, her babe, and memories unknown. She wept in pain and loneliness and deep-rooted fright. Once the tears fell hard, it was as though they would never stop.
"Cease immediately this brainless bout of maidenly sniveling!" Disgust, which should have instead been present at the notion of a forced abortion, tinged Nettle's raspy voice. "Have I taught thee nothing child? Nattering on in the manner of a daft doxy, has thine pride been lost? Madness robs thee!"
Raylah stared at Nettle with dripping lashes, pain shredding through her bosom. "How spiteful you are! What has been taught to me, that I should ever be in obligations to thee!"
Nettle hissed. The milky haze that obscured round eyes shifted and grew in color. Like a drop of dye splashing into water, the blind white switched instantly into thick cranberry tones. Nettle spoke in soft, almost caressing words. "Speak again in such a manner Princess Raylah, and this time thy life shalt be carved from thee."
Raylah managed to swallow. Her body was veiled in shivers, despite the crisping fire next to her. "I beg thy pardon," she whispered and hated herself. The words should have come with greater difficulty; she was a Princess while Nettle was clearly nothing better than an eccentric old peasant, and yet it was much too easy to cry for forgiveness. Nettle was right, it appeared that somewhere along the line her pride had been lost.
"As you should." Large burgundy orbs impaled into her. "What had befallen you becomes fate. As atonement for thine actions you suffered and shall continue to suffer. Most horrid the pain shall be." Nettle looked thrilled at the possibility.
Raylah recoiled. "But why? What have I done? Who were those three speakers? They had no right to-"
"They were in their right, most assuredly so," Nettle interrupted, scratching at the side of her head. Greyish clumps of hair fell to the ground, rustling like a hunted rodent. The old woman seemed not to notice. "Gaze upon thy hands, Princess. Tell me what becomes."
Here came horror, no longer a stranger. Her heartbeat accelerated and Raylah knew that something was amiss. Of their own accord, pea-green eyes fluttered downwards. A shriek slipped out from wan lips, echoing about the silent night.
To the wrists, both her hands were smeared in scarlet fluid. Clotty, dripping blood gathered beneath her fingernails and rolled downwards to her elbows. It clung, feeling hideously natural. Screaming again, this one was traced with nausea and bile. Frantically, the Princess scrubbed her hands upon a reedy clump of everweed that grew in a dense patch near to her. The coarse stalks rubbed against her palm skin and still nothing was removed. Wheezing in huge, panicky bursts of air, Raylah scoured her fingers as though in the grip of some sort of infectious disease. But it would not give...it would not change!
Nettle chortled at her foolish attempts, the sound striking like fingernails upon metal. "Thine actions taint you, Princess! Nothing can cleanse thee, save for thine own penalties harsh."
Slowly Raylah raised her head. As she wiped at wet eyes, streaks of crimson splashed across wan cheeks. She would have been shocked to see how much of a lunatic Pagan Princess she looked, had she gazed upon her reflection. "What...what have I done Nettle? I bade thee tell me!"
Sniggering, Nettle cracked her knuckles. Quite visibly, she was enjoying Raylah's plight. "You know what spoils upon thy fingers fair."
Large eyes clenched shut. She knew what was coming and yet...Raylah prayed that it was not so.
"You have taken flesh, Princess." This was said with a great deal of relish. "Thine hands are blemished with murder!"
The words squealed into the corners of her mind like a bell. What she had been fighting so hard came to pass; Raylah retched. Spuming liquid and mushy lump spilled past her lips and left her shaking and weak. Body heaving, murderous hands sought for purchase and fought none.
"Makes no matter now, Princess. What you have done is done and all that remains is thine price to pay." Blind eyes fixed themselves onto the bloodless, sickened Princess. "And pay you shall. This marks only the beginning. Again will you live, tangled in thine actions. Blood will flow in rivers, curling at thine feet as had already happened."
"Why?" The word came out as a harsh croak. "Why did I..." A watery sob caught the words and once again she found herself weeping endless tears.
"You did not heed mine warning. Cross me and I shall fix." She caught hold of Raylah's chin and pressed oily fingers against the sobbing mouth. "Reap what you sow Princess. Bestow what I ask and all shall be well."
Raylah gagged against the pungent odor that clung to those old, leather-like fingers but her pain-sleek eyes were wide with curiosity.
"Into a dream world will you dwell. Eternally blissful with no memories and no pain. All things will be beautiful." Smirking, Nettle raised her other hand and caressed Raylah's smooth cheek. "In return all I ask for is thy sight."
A gasp puffed against Nettle's gnarly fingers. Raylah endeavored to pull away but Nettle's grip was true.
"Sightless I be and shall remain. In bondage to thine actions wicked thy shall remain. Hear me well Princess and complete mine bidding for release from these wretched shackles of fate. Thy comely eyes green I desire. Pluck them out and give onto me!"
Employing as much strength as she could muster, Raylah broke free. "I shan't!"
A storm cloud of ominous sentiments settled over Nettle's wrinkled features. Those hazy eyes swam scarlet as a lime-colored froth pooled at thin lips. Her nostrils flared though her voice grew soft, cool. "You dare disobey me, girl?"
"Leave me be!" Raylah scrambled backwards, her skirts scuttling about her. "This is not your right to ask!"
"Murderer! Sinful whore!" Spittle flew from her mouth. Nettle reached for her with mottled fingers, clawing like branches. "After all I had done for thee in thine Before Life! Saved thee and given onto thee I had!"
Raylah vaulted to her feet, her empty stomach rattling. She scrabbled her cloak tighter around quivering shoulders.
"Nothing awaits thee save horror and blood! Again will you live in times filtered with revenge! Nothing is real but thine arrogance!"
"Stay away from me," Raylah managed to whisper.
Terror most foul haunted Raylah. The idea of living in an empty dream world seemed so abhorrent to her. She dared not give her eyes to Nettle, that she could never do! She didn't trust Nettle and the consequences could be deadly. Perhaps the things that lay before her were most ghastly but she would fight!
Wracking hands slid to her womb, barren and cold. The forest swallowed Raylah as once more she fled.
"You cannot flee from death!"
And still her hands remained tarnished, seeping onto the darkened forest's floor.