By The Devil’s MarkThe Devil once took on a cloak of Flesh.
She wore the cloak well but she felt an emptiness in her chest.
With a bone knife she opened her chest and poured the Blood of God into her Heart.
She then left to seek others of Flesh and Blood.
The arrogant ones that God loved so much.
The ones she refused to bow to.
She walked for miles over sand, clay and red soil.
She plucked the eyes from 99 men and 99 women.
And placed them in a garbage bag.
Blood and Vitreous dripped through a small tear in the corner.
At journey's end she came to my city.
I saw her standing outside my gate at Maghrib as the muezzin called.
Her skin black.
Face, soft and round.
Piercing gray eyes cut through the softness.
She wore a white robe, black plastic bag in her left hand.
A bulge at her back.
Her hair crimson on black, straight, caught in the breeze, I heard it cry.
I invited her in.
Her lips constantly bled and she licked them tenderly.
"His blood tries to escape me," she said gleefully.
She told me she was hungry.
I gave her some rice and fish.
She ate with her fingers. Her slender fingers pressed the rice into a small ball.
Then she delicately pressed the fish with her index finger and pinched a bit with her thumb and middle finger.
She worked it into the rice ball, and then raised it to her lips.
The blood stained the rice ball for a moment before she took it into her mouth.
And chewed contentedly.
She took two more mouthfuls then pushed the plate away.
She wiped her lips, bloodstain on her sleeve.
She looked at it and smiled.
She brought out the bag of eyes and placed it on the table.
The stench of ammonia and sulfur rot snaked into my mouth.
“Their God gave them sight, and I took it away”
“For they did not truly see”
“But you see, don’t you?”
She lifted her robe.
Her body slender.
A woman’s ample breasts, brown gray nipples ringed by scarred red areoles.
She turned around and unfurled leather wings.
“What do you see?”
“A woman,” I reply.
She approaches me.
And embraces me in her arms and wings.
She presses her lips to mine, I taste her blood.
It is cold and bitter.
She guides me inside.
A chilling wetness.
The cold travels up my pelvis, up my spine then into my skull.
She grips the back of my neck, her fingernails break skin.
My blood flows, warms my spine, all the way down.
She smears it all over my back and works it into my hair.
I close my eyes and my spine tingles.
She moves, she grinds against my pelvic bone and pleasures herself.
The tingling becomes an acid burn and moves down.
I look down and feel like I’m getting torn in half.
The blood of God trickles down the sides of her mouth.
Between her breasts, down her belly.
My blood and hers.
Well where we are joined.
Bitter and salt.
Her nails dig into my neck.
I cannot see.
White pain.
She heaves, and shudders.
My chest heaves, death rattle.
Everything turns black.
"You see and you have chosen," she whispers
"Just like He meant you to."
..
I awake amidst bloody sheets.
She is gone.
My back is scabbed.
And I am Marked.
