Nadège Ango-Obiang

The hooves of the Rose

As a shivering, I lost in me. Particles abused on the petals of a flower, I laid me the foundations in the inevitable chaos. Toes ignited by rage muzzled unable to summon me of the infects sublimity of my desires made, carpet flamboyant and reflecting the rails of a treacherous satisfaction generated under my feet, impatient. Even the innermost of the distant tressaillait the echo of the crackling of the flames dancing behind what was left of carpet each of my movements. Between Earth and lack of substance, the transversally of the space Saint in groupings of pieces of puzzles in accordance with the wrath of a gourmet will my carnal envelope.
 
Behind, in the shadow of the castle of prefabricated dreams on condensed sighs from infernal mantids clawed soles, will was waving a field of rattlesnakes of the fauves reptiles tails. The red, fiery eyes, crépitaient on the surface of the heavy door made of a dark, thick, illusion that made it black, made believe in consistency of wood without betraying never filled belly of late-life cloud of the underworld. It would have been discourteous in not caress in required steps, with appropriate ceremony, the abdomen, guarantor of the passenger door that allows, if walking, breathing the bridge of suffers decorated in vibrant and suspended Crystal rose petals. The enter a cruel left hand of aspirations for the self-respecting limits, as the possession, entrails and fluids of souls confiscated from men of poor ambitions. Lumbar spine spiny tip shake by jealous rage to not feel dragging by the fault of this blood so abundant in the viscera of hell, I walked in the torments of late-life, and delight, me left sinking in the underground of the phase-out of the node of the underworld.
 
Thus the is the Act of the angels once stubborn in logics of donkeys: "pray or fold". Victorious insatiable, my feet were sliding on neck offered in these other blocks and always loving glory without unreadable Fireworks. Trimmed by the obscure design everything ripped apart to punish for contempt made my authority by this adversary barely in the twilight of his evil, I watched on these skinny body the precipice of bones and putrefaction which could not probe the depth of the garbage. A superb vagissement titilla my ear Pavilion. It was the sound of teeth from the bowels of cloud of underworld rejecting the gas of the delights that I offered, in a subtle sarcophagus of abominations born ploy infiltrated in the intentions of all these beings innocent common that pills on Earth. Filled by the recognition of the highest in the languor of the defect without limits, my orbits Whitlam below my feet. Colonies of putrefied body, dunes of sludge from indigérées flesh, exquisite delight of life which the blood dried and rotten joked the abundant hair fleece which were filled my nostrils. While each step and grinçaient bones, chuintait human meat paste, beat a reptile - Fox tail at my side. It was necessary to find even the dig up this beast without confidence, without the serenity of expensive power wear to the circle of hell.
 
I approached me the pond of the lavas of souls. As a horned veil, reptile tawny leaned and vomits a girl of barely 18 years against the edge of the pond. Another delight. Force-fed of unconscious desires, will of depravity, his love of gehenna for a moment I had, although involuntarily, opened its most secret channels. Reptile-fauves became absolutely reptile, and then slipped in the pond. His flesh burned, began to dissolve slowly until its reptile skin dark formed a film, such surface net of a cream soup with too rested. A blow dry, I arrachai the head of the girl still conscious. His neck, an another pure existence, powerful and hot soup, in springs and spread on the simmering skin of the reptile in the basin. Throwing the now useless body, the tribute to what made me a devil is imposed, such a harmony of words, an inexhaustible verve whose suave and slow diction gave all power to the woe that I convoitai. As of the wings, flames enrobèrent my shoulders. Between my lips thick and cracked arises a double well accompanied by language of a JAWS without teeth. Each particle of my gums was covered by acidic liquid that, at present, dégoulinait both my appetite was great. Whereas when the juvenile blood of this still sleeping prey, my language surrounded his skull, my acids were Chair and I started to eat this feast made hot by reptile tawny. No flap of flesh escaped me, except the bones. To the sound of my satisfaction rot, the reptile skin stirred, and turned to fully cover blood syrup in the form of a long and broad sword. In a rail, I rammed the skull stripped of the superficiality of the God full of pride on one end of the sword with a filling of blood. A blue light appeared above the pond as a mass of undulating water.
 
A wind of Rails and grumbling invades the sphere dead expiring, as a sick begging euthanasia, secretions burning, salives yellows and oranges, black reflections, everything around us covering the remains of the past feasts, but useful in my atmosphere, vital for the fertility of the dead. Between the thighs of the snack, leaked the lamellae of sheets of dark reflections, roaring each offensive assault in the rigid bowels. Began bruire in my hand the skull that it relaxes, fendilla up between the two eyes. Diving into the tray of the conquests of the spirits, the throat of the victim is finally liberated from the grip of greenhouses that I had woven my trippes. My heart chuckled as the joy of screaming back to a dead body of a bare skull, of a mind to my power was incredible flavor. Part of confit and hardened blood crossed the skull vibrant and restless to be proudly held in my Palm. The culmination of a sacrifice if careful.
 
The great sword of blood, become very dark, brandishes the sky of my horrors, triggered a roar that was heard of the Interior of the pond. As the fish jumping over the waters, pieces of souls virevoltaient, and then trying to escape from the pond. But the edge of the pond generating fire at the slightest contact. A tawny cry, whine and eager fit shudder these poor unfortunate who definitely didn't know that they would never die in the standard. In the wake traced by finally mollified water, arises a white deer. Of an innocence to disturb the most treacherous of the damned. I love the humor of the underworld.
 
The virtue to my feet, my wings fire died. I looked at my left hand and in a rail, I deeply expiree. The Interior of the Palm dug by tearing. My phalanges bones discovered, black and striated. Then came the illusion: debris of forests, Plains seedlings appeared deep in my hand. Subtle clouds of smoke escaped because, in the distance, in the extension of the arm, a crater fed, took life. As a parody of volcano, more dense and strong flames to racing and began to voice their huge voracity. Looking at half the ceiling, I felt every moment, every burning, tearing, explosion of the world drawn by my spirit as an unprecedented happiness. I hate the happiness. This fun, this euphoria, that always disturbs my balance which parameters are being made to break, ruthless, the chance to those who can live in death. A poison to an already dead heart.
 
Mm. The Holy biche is finally in the close. I could see it through my hand. No need to look at my feet if it was there again. Hooves, as white as pelage, awkwardly apposite the Kingdom only and if tiny part of my body. In the more verdant plain, the white DOE advanced towards the crater whose immense walls beaten as a chest movement under deep breathing. Diagonally on the left, a few metres from the dream on fire the  biche is astonished and gratta of hooves soil. Then, it took place in the hole, its hooves tight one against the other. Immediately, instead, a rose appeared. As a shrub to one branch, the majestic white rose stood and was lulled by the wind was nothing other than my breath. The shrub was released the same biche, white, innocent, stupid air of fragility. She sailed along the bushes, surveyed the prairie, found a thin stream of my saliva, insane person. As a dog sat, she moved. The world conceived by this Tall Disappear, had its advantages. In the six steps of the beginning, he was the woman. And I had found. In digestion in my belly.
 
Shamelessness has of delectable than the purulent sweat above, as an infallible brand, a carelessness I always honored the punishment. Can well impetuous adversary, you expose the magic that watches over your misfortune? Immature harvest, imperfect spectrum still unworthy of the corridor of horror to the underworld. You taper slash your feet, the podium cursed that centuries of patience allowed me to build? That fertilizes the female receptacle but today seed. That blood from my hands fed the hooves, roots of the rose. My free hand I made pressure on the centre of the skull until a living girl cry sounded She screamed until clear shadows of its face appeared on his emaciated head. Disruptive because that suffering, the shadows of head of what was this human is formed in the same hand that created a world. Through the ringing of my teeth, I sensed the sigh of frustration which spread in the secret room of damned. I had sung the oration of war. Pupils dipped in Creek, I guidais the ghost to the immobile biche. It was enough of a hug, which was done. That the dress of transparent chiffon of a yellow of water of the dead touches Creek to become the biche hangover a fauve hangover, in a roar, avala the ghost appeared to disappear into the Creek. On the edge, a White Snake waved to the singleton rose. He traveled the branch of the plant and in the as, perfectly imbriqua in the flower of the rose.
 
Of the underside of the tip of the shoes sank into the Earth of flesh, I heard scrape, scratch, from impatience of the carbon partitions contained by the drowsiness always feigned avid watchers. Those whom God himself must never awaken distrust. These same, including the ultimate creation transformed the superficial surface of heaven in a black carpet, where ruissela a time for us, disastrous for these perverts junkies of virtue, drops of blood that diapered part of the underworld. The watchers devotees were the sons of this black carpet. History is never that purification war took place. Terrible, murderous, fierce, desperate. Born of an incident that only love overflows can cause, the black carpet, with the pure humidity of this new creation began to swell. And, for consistency, feed in the heavens and its substances. Angels, archangels and other soldiers began cutting, skinning voracious mat, which could reach the doors of their Kingdom. Private victory, the dead soldiers from the well allowed however the carpet cut to shape human beings in appropriating their envelopes. The hooves of the rose, shaped the quintessence of the purest girl that I've found, was as an intrusion of God in the Affairs of hell. Watchers fans reniflaient the white rose as a piece of pure sky fallen on their territory. Strange as the demons the more experienced could give to a trivia. Rails came from the belly of hordes of hell. Sublime earthquake which announces that someone is angry. My hand weight on the cursed. A hand covered with the shadow of the companions of this insolent. Ridiculous that a demon has as Blazon the white color of the purity of the angels réincarnés in children less than two years. I had better. I had the soul of a descendant of the lineage of the saints through the Earth. Low, I to conceive. Since this being bristle me by the harassment he has caused me, it has possessed that this embryo of lights not noticing. He was at it. Therefore, it was him. And the white rose spreads its own fluid in the banned underground. Hooves sounded like this stupid white horse which he uses to enter in the living and pretend to what it was, and hide what has lost it. The voracity of the flesh. White snake venom dégoulinait of the white rose petals. As a Holy forniquant finally in hell. Every drop of viscous fluid of this woman was a venom to the abomination of my brothers.
 
My hand became red. The rage of the watchers devotees had acknowledged in the smell of rose reliefs of the meal that I was offered to me, -that the other was supposed to have devoured. In a great laugh, I loved the rustle of the impatience of the underside of cloud of underworld. Claws out, aggressive fangs, he had already ordered that the culprit of the corruption of the impurity of the premises be punished. The shelter in his stomach, I could die laughing, but I should now disappear. I am approached the pond of the lavas of souls and, full of irony, I tie the hand. Cruel, despair not to whether dead. They were in a dream, thinking to struggle in a fantasy world populated by demons, bloodthirsty and indescribable. Well and truly dead, these residues of sacrifices. But as forces of nature, they laid on the main thinking power out of the pond. This assault of an illusory survival turned on the prairie that I had invented and the pathological damned in a response that I had caused hatred and mistrust. Under pressure, my hand is cut and fell into the lava. My black blood flowing burned, dissolving all opportunities for this spine at my authority to tagging me.
 
The blood sword covered with snakeskin was again soaked in the Lake of souls, until in the trails left by my blood. Black tasks set on the biological weapon. Immaculate daemon will learn even held by hunger for human flesh and luxures land, do not tear off the eyes of my reptiles into the belly of clouds of underworld, before me.
 
  
Nadège Noële  ANGO - OBIANG 

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Nadège Ango-Obiang.
Published on e-Stories.org on 08/02/2011.

 

Comments of our readers (0)


Your opinion:

Our authors and e-Stories.org would like to hear your opinion! But you should comment the Poem/Story and not insult our authors personally!

Please choose

Previous title Next title

Does this Poem/Story violate the law or the e-Stories.org submission rules?
Please let us know!

Author: Changes could be made in our members-area!

More from category"Horror" (Short Stories)

Other works from Nadège Ango-Obiang

Did you like it?
Please have a look at:

La Corne du Lutin - Nadège Ango-Obiang (Science-Fiction)
Pushing It - William Vaudrain (General)