Moons of Magenta

January 8, 2011
By Billy_Grotesk BRONZE, Longmont, Colorado
Billy_Grotesk BRONZE, Longmont, Colorado
2 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I think art is the only thing that's spiritual in the world. And I refuse to be forced to believe in other people's interpretations of God. I don't think anybody should be. No one person can own the copyright of what god means." - Marilyn Manson

There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.”

-Lord Verulam.

Mentioned in “Ligeia” by Edgar Allen Poe

Moons of Magenta

As I lay on the floor, dead I believe, I look at my love that lays near, both lying in puddles of blood that flows toward the window of the castle we slumbered in, the moon shining in on my love’s face making the blood on his face look not red, but magenta.

I was sitting in the graveyard admiring the full moon that was out that night, and I noticed I was near a rosebush that all but one was growing. I went over to the poor creature that was dying all alone in the night. I felt so mournful of it, but why? It’s only a flower, but a beautiful flower. It reminded me of me, how I felt on the inside. While everyone was growing, I slowly died of loneliness since I have been saving myself for the prince of Darkness, sorrow.

I then heard a noise, which made me look up to see the most fragile looking creature of God in front of me. My heart rose to my throat, making me speechless. He was tall, skin pale as the moon. He wore a black suit with a red tie. His hair was short and black as darkness. His face, ah, his face was like porcelain. He had a long face, his lips big and midnight black, shining on the moonlight. What caught my eye were his eyes. He had no eyebrows, but beautiful long eyelashes, his left eye was dark brown and his right was metallic magenta, glittering so bright in the light. Under his eyes were things that looked like black dots that sat like dew on a leaf on his slim cheek. I looked into his eyes and in an instant; it was like I had known him for decades. He put his hand out for mine, and I slowly reached out for it. His hand was so warm it made my hair on the back of my neck rise. I got up from the ground and, without words, just touch, followed him into the endless forest of the unknown.

As we walked I thought of many questions:
Where is he taking me? Who is he? Do I know him? Why does he want me?
I looked up at him, then he looked down to me and with a smile, showing me his white teeth, and soon I noticed he had long sharp canines…he was a vampyre.
Interesting I thought to myself. I smiled back gently, a little nervous. Then he spoke. His voice was soft and low, and if you listened well, you could hear deepness inside.
“What is your name dear?”
My mind went blank for a second, but then I remembered. “My name’s Madeline. What’s yours?” I replied, being embarrassed about my young voice and friendliness… my voice sounded very loud in the silent forest.
“My father named me Warner, but I would be pleased if you called me Magenta.
“Ok, I will.” I answered, and without realizing it, the words slipped from my tongue. “So are you-…”
“I was born a vampyre.” He announced with a smile and a quiet chuckle.
Soon I saw the end of the forest. Straight ahead was a tall gray Gothic castle with the moon directly above it. Vines of thorns climbed up the sides and around the windows, gargoyles on the top of the three towers of the castle. When we came closer, a plague hung above the door.


When I finished reading it I felt a tear leaving my eye and down my cheek, and then a hand wipe it away.
“No more tears shall be shed from you forever more.” He gave me a warm grin. We then entered the house and up the stairs until entering the highest room. Inside was a black n’ gray bed, a candle, and a dresser with a dead rose in a blue vase next to a glass of what looked like red wine. He put his hand through his hair, falling back over his left eye. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I sat on the bed, my butt sinking into it, it was very soft. He stood there, and then turned and came up to me.
“I know you don’t know me…but I know you. I’ve met you in the dreams you may not remember, but I love you and I hope you may grow to love…me. I may have not known your name or know what you believe, but I know your heart, your spirit, we’re meant to love, I can feel it,” He put my hand on his chest. “Can’t you feel it?”
I listened to his heartbeat…mine soon becoming harmonized. I soon felt that feeling again, the feeling of somehow knowing him, this creature of compassion, and affection. His warmth filled me as he kissed my lips, our hearts beating faster with each other, not one beat off with one another, and they were in tune. My soul trembled inside me as we lay down and made love, slow, deep love. He kissed me so softly I jumped. His touch was so gentle; it was as if a ghost was hovering over me. He was inside me, and he moved so gracefully, it was like a swing, a gentle swing in winter being blown by only the cold, cold wind. I can’t believe I loved him, and I never really knew him, but my body did, it knew his love…a vampyre’s love, a love that only he could show me.

We didn’t have a wedding ceremony, we were spiritually married. And also, humans weren’t allowed to be associated with vampyres. The sun soon rose and the moon fell as we lay near to each other on the bed, our hands gripped tightly as we slept as still and lifeless, as the dead. As I slept I dreamt of the night before. His body was cold, except his hands and his dark lips, his butterfly touch, and the way he whispered into my ear “Eat me, Drink me.”

I woke, and then turned to see if he was still lying beside me, to see if were a dream. He was there, laying so still, breathing oh so softly. I then noticed he wore a cross around his neck, it made me smile. When I was a child, I heard many stories about vampyres. I was told that Satan created them to be “Night daemons” and bring souls to him by biting into their necks. They also told me that vampyres hated crucifixes and holy water. I knew believed it, I thought they would be quite the interesting type. I never thought they were evil, I believed they were dark and sometimes morose, and only some would be great enough to be one. And now I have fallen in love with one of those creatures I believed in when I was a little girl.

I now looked outside, seeing it was almost night. I wandered around the castle till I found a bath. It was already full, so I put my hand in to see the temperature, and then I heard a voice. “It’s holy water; it’s always the right temperature.” Magenta said in his soft tone from the doorway.
“Oh.” I was already naked, so I just stepped into the bath and then he sat on the stool next to me.
“How did you sleep?” He asked.
“Well. You?”
“Very well.” His suit was now gray, his top hat gray as well, but with a black stripe around it. “Out of curiosity, do you love me…as much I as do for you?”
“I believe I do. And, come to think of it, I do remember you once in a dream. I was a little girl; I fell asleep in the fields that night. It wasn’t much, just me standing in nothing, it was all white, and you stood in front of me. I heard babbles all round me, but all I cared about was why you were there. It was very blurry, but I could see most of your form, maybe not all the details. But soon my sister found me the next morning waking me and telling me what she said was blood was running down my lip to my chin.”
He sighed with a fierce smile. “Oh, I remember that dream of yours; it was my first time seeing you, you were in older form as well, you just didn’t notice. I couldn’t wait to meet you, and now I finally do.” Magenta said the last sentence with so much happiness. Then a tear ran down his cheek, falling into the bath and creating ripples that looked like hearts.

I soon got out and got clothed myself. I put my original clothes back on: my black loitha dress with red ribbon around my waist, the bottom drawing outward and had ruffles from the bottom and on the shoulders. I put my black ballerina shoes back on over my light black tights, my pale skin still showing. I went back to the room and saw him by the window, watching the last of the sunset. “Come, I want to show you something.” He put his hand out for mine, so I gave him it. He pulled me close to him, and then he jumped out of the window, gently soaring in the air. I held on tight, closing my eyes and letting the air run through my long, wavy dark brown hair. Soon he landed in the middle of the forest, where a small dancing area was located. It was made from Granite. Statues of angels and gargoyles circled around the area, smooth and also made of Granite. He looked down to me, as I was still in his strong embrace. “Would you like to dance?”
“I would love to.” He loosened his grip and we got into a waltz position. We didn’t have music, but I believe that if you listened that the trees sang a soft tune. We danced to the steps of a waltz.
One two three
One two three
One two three
He hummed while we dance, it was calming. He then started singing, not words, but just soothing sounds. He had a marvelous voice! We waltz, and waltz, and waltz. The moon shined so bright on us, it was like the angels above were watching. Our eyes never left one anothers, his magenta eye glittering so delicately under the moon. His face was so beautiful: his pale, long face, his black lips, his soft black hair, long perfect nose, and his unique oval eyes.

The love we shared was so unique, no one could show me love like this. Every day our love grew stronger, every weak, every year. We would die for each other. But, of course, there was the one thing that ripped us apart…immortality. I was mortal, I would soon die, and he’ll be left alone. I asked if he could change me, but he was internally disturbed about the subject. He wouldn’t want to do that to me, he would kill me, and he couldn’t live with that. I couldn’t stand this truth chastising my conscience. This made us both feel pain inside. Our love will never die, but I will, and he would still hurt…forever.

We were sitting in our room, silent, we were both thinking about our differences. I sat on the bed as he stood by the dresser, his hands laying on it. I had a thought, a very dreadful one. It didn’t bother me, but I think if I told a human being, they would tell me I’m mentally disturbed, which I question. I walked up to my loyal companion and kissed his cheek, then his neck. I moved up and towards his ear, whispering the words he once said “Eat me, drink me.”
He knew exactly what I meant. His heart, I could feel started to beat faster.
“I can’t.” He answered.
“Our love is forever…I love you and you love me, it’s perfect, Magenta.” I whispered with a small smile. I took off my dress and let it dropped to the ground. I kissed him again. “Eat me, drink me.”
He turned and looked into my deep brown eyes, his eyes watery. I put my hands across his cheeks, my fingers going over the small dots, they felt like tattoos. I looked into his eyes and tried to tell him it was ok with my expression. I could tell it was very hard for him to think of his next move. He made a deep sigh, and then pulled me in closer. He kissed my shoulder, and then again. I felt a two tears fall onto my shoulder; I put my hand though his hair. “Please, don’t make me.”
“We’ll do it together, and we’ll be together forever, forever Magenta, our hearts one.”
He swallowed hard, and then set his teeth onto my skin. I felt his warm breath, and then he bit into me. I gasped, but it wasn’t loud. I felt my blood run down me; it was warm but became cold after being exposed to the air for a while. He scratched into me, biting into me in different places. He bit my shoulders, my chest, and gently on my neck. We then moved to the floor, my back cold on the wood. He took off his shirt, his white skin glowing. He laid on me and bit into me, I could see him struggling in his expression. It was that he was enjoying my taste, but didn’t want to. I put my hands on him, getting blood all over him. He bit into my sides and down my legs, one point biting into my privates. I laid there and rubbed his back, my hands getting heavier and heavier. He came back up and kissed me. He put his hand on my cheek, seeing his nails had grown, now long, feminine, sharp, and black. “Eat me.” His eyes were filled with tears, his breathing hard. “Please.” He scratched into his chest, putting his hand into his chest, and then pulled out his heart. “It’s yours…eat it.”
I took a bite into it; his breathing I saw became easier.
“Drink from it, drink the love that fills it.”
I did what he told me, it actually wasn’t bad. I kept biting into it, him biting into me.

Hours passed, and I was confused. Soon, we were both lying on the ground, I don’t know if I was dead of painlessly dying. The moon was shining in on us as we lay on the floor of out Gothic castle as our blood crawled to the window. Laying near to my dying Magenta the moon watched us, her veil over Magenta. The blood that covered all of his face did not look red anymore as the moon shined on him, the blood looked magenta. We stared into each other’s eyes for the last moments of us, our lasts breaths slowing as our darkest hour arrived. Soon, now, the moon suddenly was not her ghostly white, like his once was, it was now the dark, metallic, glittering magenta.

The author's comments:
This is dedicated to Marilyn Manson. This was the first story written by me for him, as him being my personal Jesus. Written on July 25, 2008. For you, my love.
I love you.

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