I’m going to enjoy tearing your mind to pieces…
That’s what I want you to know by the end of this. This is just the beginning. I lick my lips in anticipation, I tease my taste buds, conjuring up the memory of fear sweat, the smell of it as I thrust my nose deep into your flesh, the moisture damping my mustache and the sweet salty elixir of terror as my tongue drags across your skin. I revel briefly in the tautness in my stomach, choosing to release rather than seize the moment. I can seize it later. Anticipation whets the appetite.
I light the red candle before me, focus on the flame and align my breath. A strand of your wild, dark hair, recently collected, straggles across a white hand towel I recall the moment I found it in my car after you told me to leave you alone. Wherever you went, your hair stayed behind. Whoever came to you inevitably took some of your hair with them. You joke about it often, your all-season molt So easy to pick up a physical representation of a mark when it attaches itself to you.
You know about me. I know you know but you don’t want to know any of it at all.
That’s why you’re trying to get away from me. That’s why you told me to leave. That’s when you realised that it was already too late, that you were already a part of it and there was no escape. You stood there before me, solid and straight but I felt you trembling. Don’t you know anything? You did once, I’ll bet. A lifetime or two ago. That’s where you found the courage to stand before me and tell me to never return to your home again. Once upon a time, I would have trembled at the thought of your displeasure in me, but now you are broken you are no threat and are all the more delicious a target.
I take the hair and hold it over the candle flame. It fizzes and contorts before releasing its miasma of terror. I inhale the Incense then slowly begin to relieve myself as I step into your dreams…