heresy blasphemy and sin

This is a story i came up with after a few nights of drugs and nightmares. It includes heresy,blasphemy and sin. You have been warned.

He was pounding on the drums, obeying the damned rthym. He did not feel his lower legs now, double-bassing the whole time as the vocals screamed “Winter Hordes” with black glory. Another song. The rthym starts anew, the keyboard ringing like churh bells. He head-bangs non-stop and the crowd screams for them, the unholy quintet.

It’s only sweat,hair and music all around him. He is covered in his creations, being the behind-the-scenes hero. The guitarist who is damned good gets the praises and the vocalist who will soon rip out his vocal cords is desired by the girls. The guy behind the keyboard is closer to him, he playing the the melodious unholiness and now he is playing the tune of death.

His rage and talent pour out of him as he keeps pounding the drums, his face is in a snarl, not out of fatigue but out of a carnal lust he cannot name or explain. But he likes it more than anything earth can offer.Another song is over and he stands up strecthing and rips out his sweat covered Dimmu Borgir t-shirt and throws it to the frenzied crowd. His corpse-painted face shines under the red spotlights and the tattoo covering his whole chest draws sounds of suprise in its full majesty. His bandmates smile at his little show and he hears Raven scream “Hail!” to the mike and the crowd hails them with hearty screams. Raven asks if they want another one and they don’t and can’t refuse.He takes his seat behind the drums and waits for the keyboard to begin. Neophytis touches a few keys and the crowd ceases the constant muttering and listens,spellbound. A tune describing passion and death fills the place. He joins in ,playing the militia drums,very softly, almost inaudible. His right foot starts kicking the bass in wider intervals and the real haunting begins with the bassist joining in. The militia gets louder and dominates the music. He growls, his face beast-like under the triangular rose-shaped corpse paint. The lights change to red, then to bright white,and then all dark for an unfelt unheard instant.The singing begins at last, ruling all the music, driving it to its almost-orgiastic edge. His body beats the drums,in the perfect rhyme with the muisic and for a single instant he sees himself from another one’s eye. With the huge red black pentagram covering his chest, in the tight leather trousers he feels otherworldly to his own self. The black curly hair, tips red like dipped in blood, moves in constant animation as the head it crowns moves with the the music. He sees himself as the Angel of the Enemy, down on this stinking Earth,to enlighten the mortals with His eternal darkness. “…the darkness that embraces me…” he hears from Raven, his companion. He sees his own face, white as in death and black as in darkness. A rose with bloody thorns and demented triangles gives his face a look, worthy to the Un-God. Knight in the dark armor he seems like, ready to cast his sword down on the unbelievers. “I roam the realm of fantasy…where there is no god!” screams Raven, the blond one with the chain in the hand. The blond one holds the mike like his mace, bursting out his anger under the command of His voice.He finds himself slamming the drums again. He sees his organ stiffened, hitting to his leg,trying to break free from the leather prison. He smiles, aroused by the purity of the music,by the hidden violence. The drums gets faster and fiercer as by the song. He sees the torches next to Neophytis’s keyboard, their medievil light flickering red and yellow. He thinks of the olden times, when people roamed the unconquered lands, all green and majestic.His trumpet hand rises higher and higher with each strike as Raven lets out a banshee’s guttural scream. He smiles at the triumph in his comrade’s voice, all the while dreaming himself as a part of the heathen hordes. “…imagination…” he hears Raven sing, “..the blood of christ to burn your wounds…” he hears as he fights the enemy in his imagination, “…i am the hymn of fantasy…” he mutters to himself at the instant Raven lets out the same words.Well i have to go now. The lyrics up here belong to Dimmu Borgir and Immortal and a few Turkish bands. In fact i had this dream very recently and the most interesting part was that i woke up with a very “powerful” hard-on, and it ached. Well i relieved it of course. I know there is not a real story up there but i don’t have freakin’ time right now (you never have enough when you need it most.) A last note, my english might be sucking , i know it and i am trying to sharpen it, and i dunno how the specific parts of a drum set is called so i had to stick to word-by-word translations from Turkish. I hope i did a good work,please comment and show mistakes and corrections! If you are offended by the lyrics and any thing, i am sorry but i do not really care about the judeo-christian god. Well here it belongs, to the DarkSites! Hail!

By ScorpionShard

Student...black metal...White Wolf...opium...Turk...NY...

1 comment

  1. that was…was…damn, I can’t even think of the right words to describe it! Bizarre, dark, twisted, powerful…I could SEE the show as if I was there, both in the frenzied crowd and among the ungods of the stage. Very cool stuff!

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