She visited the spot often—it brought back a feeling—a remembrance–she heard things,that were unworldly,yet that were staple parts of the world ,still it was all surreal—children,laughing–but in the background-whispers and guttural breathing–music played on a gigantic organ,the muster of a crowd–dark corners hid beneath bright colored lights–time has come—so a voice in the corner whispered-time has come–red curtains,a dressing room lit by only a light bulb,and a golden cheaply painted chest in the doorway,the floor at the entrance is just dirt,but the room has a piece of burgundy carpet—like something that is totally out of place,but here it fits right in..because,this place is all wrong..and that is it’s appeal.
But then again…it is nothing but an abandoned and wrecked building..but is it?
Mr.Shadow…she proclaims suddenly in a calm but strong voice,time has come for what might I ask?…to her dismay,no answer back— so again she addresses him,I know you are here,so why are you hiding?—she sits on the floor of the dressing room–taking off first her top,then her skirt—to reveal a white lingerie slip and stockings,she kicks off her Mary Jane shoes–and with a sigh..says softly..well then I will wait for you.
She is almost in a dreamy mood when out of what seems to be the whole room—the floor,the ceiling–the boards–screams—like from the womb of terror–then again silence–save for the creaking of the wind through the unsealed boards—one strong gust seems to carry with it a mocking laugh–but then..it must have been only the wind..or was it?
She notices a broken wooden sign down in the dirt floor that reads in faded cracked red paint—stage right–
then out of the quiet distant music starts up–played on that huge organ–heard but unseen…so she gets up and dances—then rolls onto the floor,removing her stockings and lifting up her lingerie,spreading her legs…she giggles..well now Mr.Shadow….look what fun you are missing—she now touches her pussy and masturbates…this place somehow turns her on…the music has faded into the wind again…but out of the corner by the dressing room—for a split second she sees a shadow moving–and the sound of something dropping–a spitting sound–an old rusty paint can she had not noticed before was blown by the wind hitting the wall back and forth–the sound grows like a monotonous drone–and then—to be continued in part two–SHADOWS–a short story by Belita Adair.
Hey dearest friends,hope you enjoy this story ..somewhat of a nightmare…yes… delicious..and poisonous too—I will have some new pictures and videos too up soon…I am making the new SATANIC CORPSE album in my evil lab—here is a pic I thought you might enjoy..from my Demon Room—I get so turned on by vibes of darkness—I am just ‘that kind of girl”ya know:-)
ok…will be adding the parts to my story,tell me how you like it..stay tuned..you KNOW I am twisted always.
Dark Love,
Belita
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Touched…from that..cold,long forgotten..embrace..the flesh of fiends..purged..sanctified..engrossed..satisfied..within the essence of tombs..night..gathers her own…Satanic ones….I am one with you..forever..I feel you thrust inside me..taste my wet pussy..embrace yourself..as you embrace me.
