Thursday, October 31, 2024
Samhain is the sexual union of the Morrigan and the Dagda. The axis at which life and death collide. This is why they say the dead rise on this night. But it is also possible to connect with Death Herself.
I pick apart the pieces until I find the diamond. I tear at flesh until I reach the bone. What is it that lives there? Who do you think you'd be if all that was left was bone? "What is remembered lives." Okay, so what do you remember?
I do not guide ghosts to their haunting place. I watch as they die to be sure the process is complete. There are some I allow to die but halfway, and I do not touch them for a very long time. Grieve for your dead, but do not allow them to haunt you. Dying is sometimes a selfish act - in the pursuit of glory or seeking to escape pain. Haunting - a true haunting - is what hell is. It is hell for the ghosts and for their victims. I let them remain as they are, not quite alive and not quite dead, lingering in pain and misery. Do not ask me why. I have my reasons.
What if I were to stop halfway? Never let you finish, always leave you longing? You'd rise from your beds, soggy flesh stinking up your bones, neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. There is a remarkable difference between dissatisfaction and yearning for more - longing for total consumption. Are you dissatisfied, or yearning?
Her body will always betray her. She wants to want it, for that is what the king wants. Her lips will utter nonsense, cries of what she thinks sound like pleasure, but when she rises from their bed she is covered in soggy flesh that is stinking up her bones. That was sex, she tells herself, and I like it.
I am the end, the goal, the finish if you will. I learned long ago that not all men deserve me, and few - even of my own kind - would know me if they saw me.
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