My first kill happened at age ten. A sweet little tabby had followed me into the woods, it rubbed against my ankles and purred, wanting, needing a cuddle. I picked it up and stroked it, carrying the innocent creature further into the trees to my favorite hangout. Once there, I squeezed its tiny neck until it quit moving. It was quick and easy, too easy. It was a disappointment. I built a large fire and burned the carcass, everything but the eyes. Those I camouflaged in a tree. After a few years, I had cat eyes hidden throughout the neighborhood, but I was a child.
At sixteen, things changed. I walked through those woods until I came out the other side. It was a Sunday morning and I heard the sweetest sound, voices raised in song. I'd never heard such beauty before and I had to know where it came from. I came upon a small church, and was drawn to the rhythm and pure beauty of the music that saturated the atmosphere!
I sat in the back pew and listened to the minister's words. Words I'd remembered from childhood. All the hearer had to do was accept the savior into their heart. When the minister prayed, I bowed my head and said a silent prayer. I opened my heart, and asked my savior in.
"Father, are you here. Do you know me, your son? I'm open to your influence. Please father, I'm sixteen, the age of maturity! You're guidance as mother promised!"
When the minister asked new believers to come to the altar, I watched their faces. I was amazed as I witnessed their emotional connection to their God. On the way out the minister handed me a booklet.
"Read this, it will help you on your journey," he said.
He wasn't aware that my journey was different than most. Mother had always said that Father was closest to the sinners. This church was full of sinners. Father had to be here.
I threw the book into the fire. The fire spewed black heavy smoke.
"Where is my acknowledgement?" I shouted.
I heard laughter, a deep sinister sound that froze me to the spot. Someone had found me, but I saw no one. The smoke grew thicker, swirling, dancing around me, and the laughter got louder and louder.
Suddenly the laughter stopped and a face appeared above the fire. "Why have you forsaken your father?"
I recognized him, knew him! I fell to my knees and planted my face in the dirt. With arms out stretched, I pleaded, "Forgive me Father. I thought you had abandoned me."
"Arise my son - Lucifer's son – today is your birth into the demon world!"
Yolanda Renée © 2014
Lucifer, a character / antagonist from the book Memories of Murder, is just learning his craft. This is part of his story.
Post a Comment
Would love to hear from you, say hello and leave your blog address - I'll visit, but please take with you my undying gratitude that you stopped by for a read. Be well, be happy, and may your blog surfing bring you joy!