Damsell Sun Sep 04, 2011 1:32 amShe sat in the chair that was more of a throne, looking out the floor to ceiling windows in front of her looking out at the city lights beneath her as they twinkled against the darkness. Most people that looked at this view that was part of the opulent penthouse she occupied would have found beauty in the skyline in front of her. And, indeed, it was beautiful. But, beauty could hide so many dark and dangerous things.
As she sat there, she absently shifted a set of onyx rosary beads in her hand, the gold crucifix standing out against the black beads. The combination of the antique religious artifact in her hand and the beauty of the city before here that hid a dark underbelly reminded her of other gorgeous facades that hid dangerous things.
Once she had been fascinated by the beauty of the Catholic churches she grew up in, the opulence of the gilded altars, the exquisiteness of the painted ceilings and walls, as well as the silken robes that the clergy wore. They were all things of beauty. They all hid a darkness, an evil, that she had not recognized until it was too late.
Once she had been shown the light, so to speak, and discovered what those rich trappings really hid, she had been ushered into a new life where she became a thing of beauty hiding her own dark secrets. Now she no longer craved the body and blood of Christ to save her wretched soul. Now she craved the body and blood of men to satisfy her perverse cravings.
Shifting in the shadows, not a single light on in the penthouse, she enjoyed the darkness that surrounded her, the beads shifting between her graceful fingers. A sliver of light sliced through the darkness as the door in the living room behind her opened, a young woman leading in a figure that seemed to come right out of the memories that had just haunted her.
She could sense the man’s nervousness as he shifted and fidgeted behind her. She let him start to sweat through his robes before her soft, husky voice filled the shadowed darkness, “Good evening, Cardinal Montenegro.”
She loved how things had changed and now some of the same men that had destroyed her family and nearly destroyed her, some of the same men that supposedly wielded God’s power, answered to her.
As she sat there, she absently shifted a set of onyx rosary beads in her hand, the gold crucifix standing out against the black beads. The combination of the antique religious artifact in her hand and the beauty of the city before here that hid a dark underbelly reminded her of other gorgeous facades that hid dangerous things.
Once she had been fascinated by the beauty of the Catholic churches she grew up in, the opulence of the gilded altars, the exquisiteness of the painted ceilings and walls, as well as the silken robes that the clergy wore. They were all things of beauty. They all hid a darkness, an evil, that she had not recognized until it was too late.
Once she had been shown the light, so to speak, and discovered what those rich trappings really hid, she had been ushered into a new life where she became a thing of beauty hiding her own dark secrets. Now she no longer craved the body and blood of Christ to save her wretched soul. Now she craved the body and blood of men to satisfy her perverse cravings.
Shifting in the shadows, not a single light on in the penthouse, she enjoyed the darkness that surrounded her, the beads shifting between her graceful fingers. A sliver of light sliced through the darkness as the door in the living room behind her opened, a young woman leading in a figure that seemed to come right out of the memories that had just haunted her.
She could sense the man’s nervousness as he shifted and fidgeted behind her. She let him start to sweat through his robes before her soft, husky voice filled the shadowed darkness, “Good evening, Cardinal Montenegro.”
She loved how things had changed and now some of the same men that had destroyed her family and nearly destroyed her, some of the same men that supposedly wielded God’s power, answered to her.
