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Sunday, 1 November 2015

The knitting circle of the devil

A little tale for all hallows 


“Lust, linger over the word itself. Sound it slowly, feel the weight of it, the torrents barely held awaiting release. Curl your tongue around the L, in a long languid movement. Linger upon it, and then let the U begin deep down in the back of your throat, a primal thing straining to escape. Purse your lips as the S rolls out of your mouth like a breath held for a long moment. Finally, let the S become a T, venomous, angry, a petulant tut at the end of the word.
Lust, it is in us all, it drives us all to one degree or another. Some strive against it; while it eats away at them from within, like a serpent's kiss within them, coiling around their heart, striving for release. They deny themselves, their nature, and the nature of humanity. For want is more human than lust. To want, to need, to feel the urge to possess all that you desire.”
“Others revel within it, welcome it, and feed their lust, never satisfied, always wanting more. Understanding their nature, they seek to indulge it in all things. Till they become driven by nothing but lust. Be it for wealth, for processions, for power, for sex, for everything and anything.”
“Such is its nature; the serpent of lust grows with every feeding. Every satisfaction pales against it, feed one urge and the next awaits you. What was an extreme once becomes bland and tasteless, a gray shade of had been when unattained? Another desire, another lust has replaced the former. A new extreme, a new need to chase, to want, to desire. The serpent coils tighter within you , driving you on.”
“Till the truth of lust, the great secret of it is revealed. It is the serpent that grown upon feeding itself. And nothing is ever enough.”
“So what can you do, what should you do, but indulge the serpent. Feast with it, feed it, give yourself over to it in all its forms. Let the lust become you. Let it define you in everything. Let nothing be called debase, decry nothing as depraved, let all experience be welcome and indulged in its name. Let lust be your deity, let its angels guide you and its demons enthral you. If to lust is human, then let it be your everything, and drive you on to newer heights and greater depravities in its name. Let it be your joy, feed it your suffering and your pain, let it lead you to pleasures those who decry it would deny you. Be as one in this my children, let it consume you and feed yourself to its insatiable appetite. Let it lead you to heaven through the fields of hell.”

The sermon ended. The congregation as one stared at the minister who bestrode the pulpit. Then filed silently into the night. The minister wiped the sweat from his brow. Replaced his hat and descended from the pulpit, to make his way to the vestry.
On the back row, Vera exclaimed quietly,” Buggeration with it,”
Her octogenarian compatriot Edna jumped up at this, “Did you say something dear?” she asked.
“Dropped a stitch,” said Vera, showing her companion her knitting.
“Well that’s no cause for obscenity in church dear” Edna scolded.