Read Online To Make Death Love Us by Sovereign Falconer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sovereign Falconer
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released by death.
Pepino marked the
quality of his friends by the size of their appetites and the degree to which they were able to
still them.
The Colonel, when
first they'd met, had impressed him with his overwhelming, all-encompassing, appetite to be tall,
threatening, powerful, and, sadly, even potent with large women. It underlaid the midget's every
action—his great dreams, day and night,
of large things welcoming his potency.
Marco the Strong
Man hungered after a place on the crowded earth to call his home. He was, therefore, a lonely
wanderer on the face of it, pretending that he had such a dwelling place for the heart back in a
fairy-tale land called Newark, New Jersey.
Fat Paulette wanted
love served in many flavors in a crystal boat. Food was love and so her mouth was a small, pursed
cherry and her breasts were mounds of whipped cream. She was a child without hope for love, for
true love, Pepino knew. Her love was as silly as a dripping icecream cone.
Pepino knew real
love was a serious matter, an immense thing, jealous and twisted and devious, hard to find and
even harder to keep.
Pepino, like all
the others, was drawn to Serena.
In the moon child,
he saw a hunger so vast that it might devour the entire universe were it ever given the means and
leave to do so.
Hers was a
frightening appetite, hidden behind blind eyes and a soft, smiling, innocent mouth.
Pepino loved her
and was glad that she was not beautiful in all parts of herself. Otherwise, he would have served
himself up to her as a sacrifice.
But Pepino was
enchanted most of all by Will Carney, for in him he saw the rudest, most blatant appetite of all.
The man was glossy and modern, cheap and inept, brassy and hopeful, boastful, vain, frightened,
bloody-minded, and cowardly. Yet, he wanted to live. His appetite was not alone for the
particulars of life but for life itself.
It was this hunger
that Pepino admired and envied. He had no such desire for life himself but his philosopher's soul
chided and abused him for not desiring it. His mouth told him that death was a dry bone, yet he had a taste for it.
With all such dark,
Romany contemplation, he was, nevertheless, considered a fairly jolly companion. He never told
anyone that, when he smiled into his or her face, he saw death's head there.
He had been with
Will Carney longer than most of the others. He had, from time to time, considered that he would
probably be with Will still when all the others were dead and gone away.
Now, it would seem,
as he lay trapped in the darkness in the back of the truck, they would all leave one another and
the world in one moment. In a feast of death.
Would his hunger
then be stilled?
Serena seized upon
his hunger then, in a dream, and fed him.
Cooked, carved, and
put upon a platter before him, she offered up her own flesh.
She was a thousand
flavors and tastes on his tongue. She was every morsel of food he had ever eaten or wanted in his
lifetime. Her arms, the delicate meat around her neck and chest, was a delicacy that almost
ripped his soul out of his body.
The dream
tantalized.
He
hungered.
In the dark,
trapped in her dream, he wept, aching for the forbidden taste, for that thing that seemed to
promise an end to hunger, an end to a lifetime of wanting.
Serena shuddered,
feeling his teeth upon her skin in the dream, feeling the marrow sucked so deliciously out of her
thin, birdlike bones, the little legs she offered him, as sweet to eat as roasted larks, a
delight beyond the known pleasures of this world. She was a feast for him that no king, no rich
man had ever seen on this earth, nor would ever see.
She awoke the great
and terrible hunger of his life.
Then, in one
offering of herself, she promised to still it for all time, to sate him of his terrible
need.
All this, the dream
promised him, awaits you if you escape, the feast is yours if you act, move, awake.
That was the first
terrible
Pepino marked the
quality of his friends by the size of their appetites and the degree to which they were able to
still them.
The Colonel, when
first they'd met, had impressed him with his overwhelming, all-encompassing, appetite to be tall,
threatening, powerful, and, sadly, even potent with large women. It underlaid the midget's every
action—his great dreams, day and night,
of large things welcoming his potency.
Marco the Strong
Man hungered after a place on the crowded earth to call his home. He was, therefore, a lonely
wanderer on the face of it, pretending that he had such a dwelling place for the heart back in a
fairy-tale land called Newark, New Jersey.
Fat Paulette wanted
love served in many flavors in a crystal boat. Food was love and so her mouth was a small, pursed
cherry and her breasts were mounds of whipped cream. She was a child without hope for love, for
true love, Pepino knew. Her love was as silly as a dripping icecream cone.
Pepino knew real
love was a serious matter, an immense thing, jealous and twisted and devious, hard to find and
even harder to keep.
Pepino, like all
the others, was drawn to Serena.
In the moon child,
he saw a hunger so vast that it might devour the entire universe were it ever given the means and
leave to do so.
Hers was a
frightening appetite, hidden behind blind eyes and a soft, smiling, innocent mouth.
Pepino loved her
and was glad that she was not beautiful in all parts of herself. Otherwise, he would have served
himself up to her as a sacrifice.
But Pepino was
enchanted most of all by Will Carney, for in him he saw the rudest, most blatant appetite of all.
The man was glossy and modern, cheap and inept, brassy and hopeful, boastful, vain, frightened,
bloody-minded, and cowardly. Yet, he wanted to live. His appetite was not alone for the
particulars of life but for life itself.
It was this hunger
that Pepino admired and envied. He had no such desire for life himself but his philosopher's soul
chided and abused him for not desiring it. His mouth told him that death was a dry bone, yet he had a taste for it.
With all such dark,
Romany contemplation, he was, nevertheless, considered a fairly jolly companion. He never told
anyone that, when he smiled into his or her face, he saw death's head there.
He had been with
Will Carney longer than most of the others. He had, from time to time, considered that he would
probably be with Will still when all the others were dead and gone away.
Now, it would seem,
as he lay trapped in the darkness in the back of the truck, they would all leave one another and
the world in one moment. In a feast of death.
Would his hunger
then be stilled?
Serena seized upon
his hunger then, in a dream, and fed him.
Cooked, carved, and
put upon a platter before him, she offered up her own flesh.
She was a thousand
flavors and tastes on his tongue. She was every morsel of food he had ever eaten or wanted in his
lifetime. Her arms, the delicate meat around her neck and chest, was a delicacy that almost
ripped his soul out of his body.
The dream
tantalized.
He
hungered.
In the dark,
trapped in her dream, he wept, aching for the forbidden taste, for that thing that seemed to
promise an end to hunger, an end to a lifetime of wanting.
Serena shuddered,
feeling his teeth upon her skin in the dream, feeling the marrow sucked so deliciously out of her
thin, birdlike bones, the little legs she offered him, as sweet to eat as roasted larks, a
delight beyond the known pleasures of this world. She was a feast for him that no king, no rich
man had ever seen on this earth, nor would ever see.
She awoke the great
and terrible hunger of his life.
Then, in one
offering of herself, she promised to still it for all time, to sate him of his terrible
need.
All this, the dream
promised him, awaits you if you escape, the feast is yours if you act, move, awake.
That was the first
terrible
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