ALL HALLOW'S EVE
by Dark Angel Neko
xXxXxXx
Chapter Five: The Curse of Londinium Towne
(flashback)
Junior Reaper Ron Knox had always been always been fond of libraries. Before his untimely death in 1502, many centuries before he would be Resurrected as a Reaper, he had been but an orphan on the unkind streets of Londinium. As rumor had it, the Romans had been quite fond of taking adolescent BoySlaves to service the inhuman lusts of the Roman Londiniumians. One in particular, a Mr. Recesswinth, had a taste for young, bi-chromatic-haired BoySlaves.
On the few minutes per day that Mr. Recesswinth sent the young Boy Knox away from his bedchambers, he would wander the halls of the great manor Estate that served as the center of South Londinium. It was here that the BoySlave first learned his Letters.
But it was Latin that he first became familiar with, for it was there that he found Mr. Recesswinth reciting the evil humors of the Daemon linguistics of the time. It was on the day that he wandered the abandoned Manor Libraries for longer than anticipated, only to realize the error of his ways. At a prior time, the Boy Knox had been sentenced to insufferable shifts of servicing the other insatiable Londinium servants of the Recesswinth Manor.
He had hurried back in a sweep of his delicate bare feet down the cold Medieval stone Manor hallway to return to his Master, hoping not to be subject to hold audience with the hellish burn of 100 vile Londiniumian cocks. For he had held such an audience forthwith from the moment of his tardiness, and his Visgothian Master Recesswinth had fed him post-haste to the barking dogs of sexual feasting.
"Master!" the BoySlave Knox cried as he threw open the heavy, dark gnarled and knotted wood oak door to his Master's Bedchambers. "I apologize for being-"
Carpe Diem Dulce Est Ave Maria!
The Daemonic hymn that swirled from Mr. Recesswinth's lips was an otherworldly chant.
DULCE KYRIE MARIA AVE!
"Master!" the BoySlave shrieked in distress, the blonde ringlets of his two-toned hair fluttering as he careened to an abrupt stop.
There was a swirl of smoke, and Dark Daemonic form appeared in the center of the cold, stone, Medieval BedChambers.
"Young BoySlave," said an inhuman voice, the wails of a thousand crows and cats and spiders singing there in the fog of Daemonship, "be gone. Your Master has summoned me, and he is no more."
The two-toned BoySlave stared at the Daemon without moving.
"Ashes to ashes, and dusts to dusts!" the Daemon chanted, and the BoySlave collapsed.
He had woken up in a coffin 1,000 years later.
Riveted out of his reverie, J.R. Knox started as he replaced the Cinematic Record Book back on the sturdy Reaper Plane shelf.
A dark-cloaked figure had appeared on feet as silent as clouds in the Human World sky.
"J.R. Knox, I presume," the silverette in front of him chuckled. His visage was obscured by the bangs that flopped in front of his strange visage, dark and foreboding yet inviting in its strange, otherworldly effervescent beauty. "Do you make it a habit to ~stand~ in the library staring into space?"
J.R. Knox turned abruptly, clutching his glasses and breathing heavily, staring at the floor. He could feel the tears burning at his eyes as he remembered, and then he felt a bony hand rest on his shoulder.
"Please, let us go to get a nice Cup of Tea," the strange voice said softly. Then cackled ominously, "Just as long as it's not that DIRTY QUEEN'S TEA!"
J.R. Knox nodded shakily.
NEXT CHAPTER... SOME GRELLIAM!