I was once a servant in a mansion, living together with my unhappy master– who simply is... Ill-fated after the death of his beloved Madam Eleanor. He had his three daughters, Victoria (who's indeed fabulous but abstruse), Lenore (who's radiant but blue) and Janice who I doubt have any farther relationship with his dearly tired father. The old man was never kind to anyone in this last years ever since the maiden's demise. I went from a server to a slave, it went from sane to insanely mad within. But the last deed he ever done was the last straw...
What the old man never knew that I practiced necromancy from his own tower near beside the garden. Ha! If seer on still, for love and evil! Leave the blunt heart perpetual; here cast upon unshadow force of mere love, for the old man shalt daren't hath the curse he never endure– for what unbearable torture he will taste, the taste of the heart of his own dearly seed!
What? You elaborated me as illogical, nor sound senseless within my gushes!? But never to be TRUE! Or yes– it was... It was. It was my resentment to the old man, not the maiden! But nonsense I say, because the seed is the seed! and shalt be the root! Indeed, what I just merely need is something he could drink of... The old man likes to drink burgundy, as a relief to the pain that he gain; but the thing is... Was that enough? You never knew what kind of a plan that I have. Perhaps, just a sure that he will shalt regret this for eternal life.
As I walked into the opaque, while holding a roasted duck and the wine that I enchanted with a Socrates' Hemlock; likely not a blood within the blood. But this! A simoom from an avarice, for shalt the arrived from the plague of the league– here Azrael comes from your dinning door! Till the incipient, as I calmly arose and served his table. I was so unruffled if ye just see my dearly face– covered by that ominous hidden anger, covered by that unmeasurable hatred for someone who dearly love some.
The old man was sitting, still sitting like a king in a one deck of a one card out of a domino effect. You think that concealed ruth was in the old man's face still? Abase! Frustration! and what whom to be the unsolidified blame to himself– what marvellous I indeed Old Brown within; for I will be the end of the Bereshith.
Judgment will shalt be the judge of the old man's fate, be the conclusion of his own slavery. As I served the dish on the board, he was eating, eating and eating the goods. Thus far, the moment of so far has arrived... I took the wine and poured it in the goblet and as he thrust on it. The old man was staring at me. Likely not, his heart pounder like a beating drum! Craze between the sane, because that poison was the memories of the plagued life of his dear Eleanor!
The old man said, "What have you done?! What have– you done?!! And the old man crumble unto the ground and fainted. Ha! For what curse shalt devoured your guilt– that guilt you felt for the memoir of your doomed swain!
For a priori on, the old man took every country doctor and scientologist to cure the pain of his heart. But no luck, there's no such nepenthe that will certainly cure this black plague. Of how painfully it is! Conceivably he couldn't even spoke a single word to seize my crimes against the authority. But, lucky he is indeed that I shalt give him the balm of Gilead for just a no cost at all but his own seed! That bare beating heart of his own seed!
As the moment comes to judge the old man's providence, his daughter came to visit his dying soul– in pain; in suffering! Hitherto, hereupon they greet him a welcome; gifts with fruits and any luxury that his dearly daughter have, was the heart aid from the throbbing agony? "Scoundrels!" I shrieked, "No nonessential things would ever deed him comfort!"
They looked at me, as if they see me as a madman still. At the juncture, we were the mere mortals that step the painted shadow of our sentiments. They pondered n' wondered yet still wonder in this great abyss from a thousand league.
Victoria said, "What foolishness are ye saying, servant?" Up till now, I said to the fair maiden that, 'If the old man will ever feast the heart of his seed he shalt indeed alleviated and be free from his slavery.' As I told to them, they will addling; puzzled and stumbled of what mortal terror I have been deed.
But they never listened, instead they called the authority to arrest me. Nonetheless, I was more powerful than any will of God ever seed the cloud. So on, I crushed and squeezed his heart with a dolly; they went to insanely from anxiety to perhaps the willingness to give up something they shall daren't to regret.
So, I said "Only the heart of the bare deed will shall aid the Achilles' heel." The maiden, respite the holy tempest, as tis fair and unadulterated maiden; will sacrifice their own life for their bare and dearly father. Little they know what was the heel will heal the pain of the old man's heart.
Victoria went first, as I give him the bodkin. I told him, "Give him peace, and give him what his heart need. That love you never felt before... So, finish the job and will the poor heart rendering from the love he hold on. Give him– now, my dearest madam."
I could tell from her bare eyes– those eyes that doubtfully doubt my words. Those insolents to words! But truly I am indeed confident she will deed the passion for a daughter who shalt do anything to her dearly poor father. Hence then, the bodkin was near to her bosom; I could see her father screaming beyond his throat. Ha! The pain! that I expected.
As the shadow on the wall clued my perception, she stabbed herself, blaring in the breeze cold. Just if you could see, that sting! that mere pain– of the hurtful death of his beloved seed! The old man started to cry, in his years of anguish it was the first time he ever towed a tear from his weary eyes. Now, I could witness how the old man will indeed suffer more than this.
The old man seems starting to affright, and her daughters are now collogue despite all of this. As they underway to cure him, hither they opened her ribs and took out her heart out and placed it on the silver. The old man was on the wild fire, blazing like he was on leash. Wilding and wilder like an animal on an amok. But– for he doesn't have any choice than to devoured his own deed.
As his daughter walked unto his sight, in laying in his bed. The old man seems to refuse the offer and yet the last drop of the blood still drooling in his seed's hands. Well, it was fresh and new. Ha! That face of a firm revulsion was I truly a triumphed o'er my beguiling soul! What a victory at is! But the thing is... There are still on two left to be parish with. Indeed!– it was just the mere beginning of the phantom chaos.
As he still refused to eat the heart, the pain of his begun to ache again. Fancy to fancy from hereupon o I perceive he shalt include the pain! That pain! of the memoirs of Eleanor! Dazzling I was when that misery was added by the omens! Visions of e'er foretoken of the laughter of eternal torture of his Victoria in the depths to Sheol. Pits! O pits! Of ever holes of those walls that lights the Erebus!
As the old man hearkening the beating of her heart, those moment of silence; of e'er screaming 'n pain! Red death and black plague, stings of the venoms and fallen angels heeding your prayers! Help, of what the mere maiden said; help me my Father! Here and eat this holy bread of mortal yore and shall be the end of thy pain!!
"Thee!" he said, "For love and evil! Clairvoyant I hearken you! Is there ethereal from all of this? Hear me from the above, heed me my Lord! Is there Aidenn from of all this regret?! Tell me, my shaman! Tell me I implore!"
But the laughter, still is the laugh of mortal terror that the old man couldn't endured. Laughter, laughter, and laughter! Shaking as he would, shaking in trepidation. No, he thought. No, no, no!!! Those inner thoughts that keep repeating in his head. It tattooed upon his head, what I have done, he said. What I have done to suffer like this?!
Then, he took the heart and eat it like an animal. He hurried like on a rush, I see how ignominy he is to degrade himself from a titan to a mindless carnivorous. As I chuckled between my lungs, he was choking and soaked in blood. Tis was the moment of Eldorado, when... The stillness was broken, and the pain from his dearly heart was on glare again. Burned out, to what they don't understand; what a jest I could say that they got the wrong seed.
Just when the old man thought this it was the mere salvation of enlightenment, he was solely wrong about what the joke is. As the girls were startled again, they don't know what to do again– so I explain that it was the wrong heart. And one of them may held the right cure for the old man's suffering. Thenceforth, I give them my own word. And Lenore went forward, "Forgive me father, but I must do it for your deliverance." as she said.
He was begging upon his deepest throat, begging! for a mercy hereupon me. "Stop this instant or I'll hand you for this!" he said. Indeed, on the contrary; it was sheer the moment that Lenore stabbed herself for giving up her life for the old man. "Please, stop" the old man decreed to me. Janice took out Lenore's heart and put it again in the silver plate and served it on the bed. But the man declined it, as if it was enough suffer he been.
"Enough I said, for love and evil. Leave the heart perpetual with this dying ember, leave my heart within this dying soul of mine! Cast this undeterred love of mine and eat this heart of this rage of yours!" he shouted.
"Ha! what a jest that you never guess!" I bellowed. "You're foolish enough to fool by a jester! For your true heart is the seed of yours who longed the true evil! So, eat your bare heart and see how you're truly that wicked is, old man!"
"Thee!" he said, "For love and evil! Clairvoyant still, if I hearken you! Is there– is there Heaven for a sinner of all of this? Hear me from the above, heed me my Lord! Is there Aidenn from of all this regret?! Tell me, my shaman! Tell me I implore!"
And I quoth, "Aidenn, Aideen... No more..."
As I left him broken-hearted, I left him a moral for a mortal like him who never gonna understood love is. For 'tis the end for till morrow. Leaving him this day a better tomorrow for me at all. Moral is like a lunch, you always gonna bought whether you leave.
The seed may is the seed of the roots, and shall bare roots of its seed. For I will leave, and will never ever be seeing again, never again...