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Love and Damnation

by Damian Herde

Is it Hell if you love it? Is it murder if you beg for it? On bended knee; please, please, oh God, please!

“Don’t walk away from me; don’t turn your back on me!” My voice was so hoarse I was forced to whispering “I can’t bear it.”

The dappled morning sunlight moved over her, filtered through a lace curtain rippling softly in the breeze. She turned to me and I sighed in relief. The light was shining from behind her, her features hidden amidst the swirl of her long, black hair.

The succubus moved closer and a shiver went through me as I connected with her fiery eyes. I saw passion, lust, hunger! Was there love? I saw love, but was it only my wishful thinking?

She moved back to the window and I was free of her gaze; free to think again. Yet all I could do was stare in wonder. Years of research, years of hunting the world for material evidence, facing the taunts of any who knew my quest. My time was now justified, all finally revealed to be fact. I wished I could tell someone.

I knew what I hunted. Knew the traps and snares used by these manipulative demons of the pit. Beauty beyond reason, befuddling logic.

Knowledge should be power, should have meant I would not end up here. But here I was, still drowning. I knew I was going down, knew that the day would come soon where I would be unable to struggle to the surface again. That day must be close, as I could feel myself weakening. Armed with knowledge of the succubi, surely one would not fall for their seductions? Surely not.

Her naked form was lithe; pale, smooth skin covering sculpted muscles. I tried. I tried to leave, I really did! For a brief shining moment, I thought I was free and away. But then I looked back. I imagined a life without her, void of the glimpse into her world of hidden power and meaning, so much more depth than anything previously seen.

I hadn’t eaten in days, yet I didn’t feel hungry. My past seemed attached to someone else, my grip on this world loosening.

It was love. Love she felt for me, I’m sure of it. I had thought it was predation, but that is not the truth — she feels pain with the parting, sorrow at the death.

But the cherished victims? They are just dead.

She walked to me, reached the bed and crawled. “I love you,” she said, and her eyes flashed flame.

Copyright © 2008 by Damian Herde

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