The new moon refused to debut her shining face beyond the curtain of midnight. Cloaked in darkened shame, the world below lay deadened amidst vast blackness - a purgatory of sorts, stained by grief and unimaginable guilt. The shadow realm crept in slowly, encroaching upon all who were damned, spreading a haunting eeriness into the dead of night. The winds stood guarded having refused to dance across the velvet skies; all was still, oh so still. Still to the extent that not a bird dare call to its mate nor a leaf stir; stillness, all bowed to stillness.

He lay there beneath the hollow heavens, a blackened mirror image of the void that had woven itself into the fabric of his being. A cancer held a death grip upon his breast from where his heart had been torn - torn and shattered before his very eyes. Where was solace at this lonely hour? Yet there would be none for one such as he. Guilt forced its leaden weight over his broken existence. So great was the demanded toll that he could no longer find the will or strength to hold his head high; his self-worth, shattered, along with is glass heart. His hand, no longer worthy to behold his sharpened redemption, from whose iron will would spill his crimson life force and drain away his miserable existence into oblivion, lay lifeless at his side. Nay, he was not enough to even dispel a wretched man from this world.

Shallow, overgrown graves, hollow with decay, held strong and true about his lifeless form. Wretched souls, long departed from these grounds, beckoned him to their empty embrace. Angels of stone fixed their unforgiving eyes upon this man, leering downwards, their stone stands condemning and piercing that which remained of his soul. There he lay, alone and dishonoured upon this bed of decay; his borrowed grave. Death was in the very air he breathed. Oh, that he could end such shame that drowned the state of his being.

A liar was he, manipulator of the highest rank; the imprisoned spider lord reigning over the petty kingdom of his creation. A murderer, a death stained his fragmented conscious luring him to the brink of demise and despair.


A whisper suspended in the air so still.


One voice amidst the haze of melancholy, beckoning him away from this pain of nonexistence.


He heard his name called thrice, so sweet so pure, calling he and he alone; compelling him onward away from this life. Like a man possessed by the seduction of the dream, he followed.

The peaceful grounds of eternal slumber faded into a grey haze as in a daze he did follow. Lost in the mists of time that never was, guided by his synthetic soul he ventured forth from the void of emotion. The master winds called forth his players to tango with the fog of confusion, and did surround our weary traveler. Onward with the elemental support of this master's drama at his back.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the clearing so delicately laid out before him. She was there. Ebony hair floated about her graceful frame. Studded with diamond and onyx and woven with silk to caress her bare shoulders, fell about her waist. Almond shaped eyes, the soft brown of a doe's swept over him. Gently. Unjudging. Calm. A gown of pure white clung to her upper body, flowing gracious from her hips soft from beneath her hidden bare feet. A slender finger placed she to velvet lips and shook her head, asking with actions what words would have requested. She danced forth to his frozen figure with a gentle sway of her hips. Her arms, outstretched were studded with liquid rubies; the soft flesh scarred and openly wounded. His heart stopped. Hers was the dance of death. The danced he had longed to pursue had he the power of will.

"You came for me." she whispered in a voice that trailed across his skin as the waters of a bubbling brook.

He tried to speak, his tongue was tied. He tried to move, the ground held true. She reached out to him with blood flowing freely down her battered wrists, he could only stare at the broken angel. His heart ached for her as pain-filled tears glistened in her kind eyes. Imploring. So raw, drowning in heartbreak. His pain disappeared at this one glance into the depth of hers. He could scarcely breathe as he drew th mysterious woman into unsure arms, driven by an unseen force. Compelled.

Her wrists ceased to bleed.

His broken heart no longer lay in tattered ruins. A warm, new adhesive held each shard in the most delicate of embraces; love. He opened his mouth to speak but silenced again was he by her fingertips.

"Hush Jeremy. All is forgive."

Forgiven. Truly forgiveness was not meant for one such as he.

" I know what you think you have done. All is forgiven."

Tears filled his eyes as he saw compassion meet his unsure gaze. She smile dup at him, gently wiping away his tears. She traced his features lightly with the pads of her fingers, drinking in every minor detail of his face. She never wavered from the intensity of his eyes. He shuddered at the touch of this angelic beauty in his arms who refused to allow him the burden of guilt and pain any longer. The world spun as she brought her lips to his.