Somewhere, an onyx statue gleams malevolently. It knows it was once flesh, and it knows it will be flesh again. All it takes is one careless human to find this statue and touch its so-shiny pitch black surface – and they never can resist touching things, can they? – and the statue will have a fresh human soul on which to suckle.
And with the sustenance thus obtained he will once again be living breathing flesh. muscles rippling, tendons tensing, ichor black as night pumping trough veins like concrete viaducts and filling his long dormant flesh the stuff of life.
And with that life would arise his magnificent black cock. No bowlderized demon, he was a nightmare that truly loved to fuck. Humans, preferably, as their suffering and sense of violation was truly delicious, but anything with an orifice would do.
In the language of demons, their word for “consent” is the same as their word for “surrender”. It’s all the same to them.
So as the statue lay dormant, it dreamed of brutality and violations to come, and idly wondered what its next toy would look like.
Jenna woke up knowing that today would be the day. And when the opportunity came. she was ready.
All the planning, all the observing, all the pretending fell away and she was serenely pure and calm, a being of nothing but purpose, as she waited the moment of destiny when she would finally be free.
Showing the world nothing but the abstracted smile of the heavily medicated, she drifted through the ward at random, radiating harmlessness and a vacuous beatitude.
So it was by seeming concidence that she happened to be near the secure intake station when the world’s most ambitious nursing student, Danella Fontaine, arrived for her shift. And nobody noticed harmless lamb Jenna lurking about, staring at the complex pattern of the linoleum as if it contained the secrets of the ages just waiting to be found by an intrepid mind like hers.
Jenna knew exactly when to strike. It was the exact moment that over-handsome security guard Rick Jackson flashed his megawatt smile at Miss Fontaine as she passed through his station.
In that enchanted moment, Jenna moved as swiftly as a snake and as silently as a shadow. While Miss Fontaine was blinded by lust, Jenna struck from the corner that Rich couldn’t see sitting down, and stole the pair of stainless steel scissors that she new Miss Perfect Fontaine VERY naughtily kept in her little purse at all times.
This was very much against regulations in a secure mental ward full of the most dangerous lunatics in the tri-state area. Jenna was sure that Miss Fontaine told herself that she kept them there “just in case”, but Jenna knew her dirty little secret : Miss Perfection Fontaine was deep down terrified of the patients, and thus extremely unqualified to be working there.
She hid it well behind a facade of compassion and understanding, but Jenna had seen the panicked looks, the tiny flinches, and the way her eyes darted around every time she entered a room on the ward.
She would no doubt be in big trouble when they figured out where Jenna had gotten those big shiny scissors.
Good. Served her right for being mean to the patients when nobody was looking.
Scissors hidden under her dress, Jenna floated aimlessly toward the emergency door only she knew didn’t have its alarm any more. She’d disabled it during a fire drill. A quick and precise tug and the circuit was dead with no external signs of damage.
Jenna slipped through the door quicker than an instant, and once she was on the other side, flew into action. She knew that the moment she disappeared from the ward, the clock started ticking. The ward was very good at doing headcounts and would soon notice her absence and come looking, and her mission was too important to risk any kind of interruption.
So off came her dress and the “security gown” they made her wear underneath. It was essentially a cloth bag with arm and leg holes, and underneath its cornflower blue farbic lay hidden straps and buckles that could turn it into straitjacket in a heartbeat.
Jenna grinned when she thought of how the staff would flip if they knew how easily she got out of it.
But now was not the time for such flights of fancy. Now utterly nude, Jenna snatched up the scissors and forced her mind to slow down, find balance, and then stretch out like a spider’s web so she could find her prey.
There! There it was,. curled up in the carpal tunnel of her right hand. Thanking the stars that she was left handed. Jenna slowly and surely brought the scissors close to her right wrist and emptied her mind of anything but the readiness to stike.
It must be done without thought and without intention in order to keep from alerting the creature and giving it time to flee and hide elsewhere in her flesh.
Then, when the energy was right, she plunged the scissors. slightly ajar, into her wrist. And from the bloody wound she pulled an obscene creature of liquid blackness and utter corruption, its insectoid legs flailing in every direction as it tried to escape.
Not this time, thought Jenna, and with sublime satisfaction squezzed fiemly on the scissors, cutting the vileness into two pieces which felt to the floor, melted, and disappeared into the air.
Jenna indulged in a moment of pure professional satisfaction. Her order of angels specialized in containing such monstrosities until they were weak enough to destroy, then destroying them, and this has been an especially bad one that none of the other angels of her wing had dared to try.
And now it was gone, its subtance returned to Hell.
Now all Jenna had to do was clean up. She checked her wrist to conform that yes, despite the fact that the scissors were sticky with her blood, the gaping wound had disappeared entirely. She slipped back into her secure gown and her dress, and adopted an expression of childlike confusion that had taken her years to perfect.
And when the interns burst in, she was the picture of innocence, and looked at the bloody scissors like she had never seen blood or scissors before in her life.
Another job well done, she told herself.
She returned to her room, sat on her bed, rested her head against the cool concrete wall, and waited for her next inmate.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.