Days of Hell’s Winter – The Book of The Angry Princess

The Book of The Angry Princess

1st Key
Chapter I
Within the window of my overly self-conscious self I feel the tides of my self-hate grow to no end. O how I hate these tides of lying men and women who tell me over and over how I truly am beautiful. What outrageous lies! But what burns within my heart the most? Those men who constantly used and abused me in the name of their own happiness. Erase. Rewrite it. Rewrite it with an unforgettable sense of presence. I do not believe I can return from the brink once again. Crossing out all that is me, maybe I can improve what once was called me. That shining edge seems so lustful towards my skin as I watch it slide against me so wantingly. What brilliance is felt from that bright beam of light. Within my eyes… I am blinded… Sorrow… May my beauty be no more.

Chapter II
I have become crossed out from the picture and overly self-apathetic. This perpetuated folly called my existence can be no more. The skin I lay bare for you this time shall be the last and nevermore again. Be pleased with the little of beauty I have and use and abuse this defiled body. I care for it no longer. What is it’s use to me? Hand me the knife so that may give credence to the scribbles that I shall make palpable all over my body. Scribbles cut into my flesh and all self-reliances given in blood-stained propaganda. By thus means my self-worth is mutilated beyond even my own recognition. What a sweet victory ignorance is.

Chapter III
Quiver, you degenerate fuck, if you have the nerve to mutilate my spirit more than it already is. Any bliss I feel ranks only as ‘Quasi una fantasia’. This manipulative reign of self-judgment can no longer last. Rip it out once and for all and maybe I can float away in this river of blood. How does it feel to hear my masochistic story? Well, then how would you feel to know it’s true. These be but not the words of someone else but they are the words known and told from my blood-stained lips.

The Book of The Bound Woman (EXPLICIT)

Ok… I’ll probably regret this but I’m gonna put up The finished sections in ‘Days of Hell’s Winter’… I know it’s a little racy but don’t judge me for it like I actually feel the things that are written. They are supposed to be stories/scarlette stories told from the point of view of the character. I’m pushing limits with this one and consulted with women while writing it so partial credit has to go to Staci Kenner for her input. I hope you are satisfied with this compilation of scarlette stories and I guess tell me what you think…

Some people may be offended by the following writings. It is meant to be a portrayal. This is the second book out of the coming 13 books in Days of Hell’s Winter. Even my editor hasn’t seen these yet so ENJOY!!!

🙂

The Book of The Bound Woman
(X censored)

1st key
Chapter I
How The world loveth my pleasures for which I am known throughout. My company falls upon no deaf ears and my commitment is non-existent. The common pleasures you all abide by shall be the death of you for you heard it be known from my lips. There are but no secrets to be knownst of me and my prosperity of libido have no limits that I am aware of. I have to use those who think they use me. That cruel symbiotic relationship tunes within my broken hearted despairity and brings those razors I love so much closer to my womb. Am I the whore you want? That dirty girl that you dream of so often within the libido driven fantasies you so adimently deny exist? Why should I have shame? Tell me what you really want. Those deep dark desires that flow within the failings with the women you, O, so wish you could ravage. It all ends the same. Ask the man that put me within this dispotic realm simply for the reason of my not caring for those whom I used to fill that gaping whole within my chest.

Chapter II
I drive myself off the dark desires that destroy you but make me more than human within my own right. Bleed your heart out upon the floor so I can continue to drink off of the life within all of you. Fuck me. Treat me like I’m not even a human being. You know I love it. It fills me up just as you do. The man I treat like garbage is nothing but such a fool. I deserve what is best around me and will have all of it. Enjoy the carnal desires with me. The silver spoon I was born with in my mouth is but something which has no value and can affordably be called less than nothing. With what do you plan to continue to try to bribe my lust with?

2nd Key
Chapter I
My drained will for life is the death of me. Taste my beloved cyanide kiss. My fluids are made of Vitriolic acid and the burning sulfer sustains that hollow spot in my chest. Because you, Dear murderer, Took a bite out of that piece of shit I called a heart. My beloved killer who raped my body and then disposed of my essence is a true,”Hero without a ‘Name’.”The closest name I can but give you is The grim despair that seeps from my sorrow. My seed has infected too many for me to be left without punishment… Please… I want you to beat me… Rape me! Defile me! Copulate within me and give me what I truly want from the abuse.

Chapter II
The sickness falls from the death of me and braces what I thought was real. The bones of my spine pertrude from my neck and my hands stay bound. In my dress of queens I slowly weep. My crown stitched to my forehead and with my hands tied behind my back I AM The Bound Woman. Shivering in this winter of Hell, I slowly and calmly Wait and Bleed.

Chapter III
Feel the warmth of my breasts against your skin and the taste the sweat rolling from the small of my back. Lick my skin with the rot developing from your salivating mouth and envelope my body in your putrid warmth. Bloodlust filled apathy is but my cause and folly. Lo, the lust may be but your downfall as I lay my womb upon you. Maker of the carnal diseases and fulfiller of the violent sex-driven fantasies which are stricken upon you which you have the audasity to beg to resist. Gruesome mockeries of grotesque penetrations fuel my salivation for the seed that lies within you, oh so waiting to be released within me. Let me know I am flourishing off of the life you could’ve made with it getting sacrificed to me.

Chapter IV
Slide the grotesque piece of shit you call your “Love for Me” across my body and bathe me in the fluids You know I want. It may sound absurd now but know that , I , above all people have the skill to create such lust to make that incestual fantasy your only drive. What a morbid curiousity you hold. The fruit of such a infernal union shall be but a devil to you and to the world you take for granted. Beg for it and crawl like the bitch you are at my feet. And lastly, Obey.

2nd Key

Chapter I
Become my Holy disciples of Emptiness. Drop your hopes for the shit it is and embrace my body with your arms, cut up from the pleasing agony, and raise me up on high where I belong. Legs splayed and hopes broken in two, we shall rot togethor in our incestual lunacy we call Hell’s Winter and Never again shall we fall to those depths we’ve been hoping for all along. It can’t all just be bleached away as if it all were black and white in this hypocritical mediocrity called The World. Fill me again and never leave me like I have done to so many. Lo, you be left yourself.

DHW Book of the Jackal

Ok now… I have never posted this up so I hope you guys enjoy it…From my Days of Hells Winter Series

COMING SOON!

The Book of The Jackal

1st Key
Chapter 1

From the ice grows the misdeeds of the world. Let it be known as the fault of the world for the creation of such a being in such suffering but yet causes such misery. May we know the fault of such evils that we unknowingly bring forth. We grip the razor blades that cut us so deep close to our hearts. Those slices are our love and our comfort. Bring forth the animal within ourselves, caged and shackled by its’ own want, to strike the terror into us that we so desire. O, Jackal, how you have been twisted by our wants so. May we bind him, contort him, and abandon him in the shadows only for him to still fear the fiery blackness which grows out forth from him. O, so beckoning to have its’ lusts released upon us that we have instilled within his own reflection. His tears fall upon sacred ground. Before the saints in which he serves, He takes upon his back all fault of man and the crushing transgressions of our masochistic pure-black wants… With his head caged, arms twisted as the wants of the hypocritical sinners, and his shaven teeth… May you know him. For you have made this beautiful breed of lunacy and forthright you shall be judged by Him. His tears of insatiable crucifixion of the ones the lost one knows he should not hurt but lust-filled seas of pure savagery will freeze the world within its’ own Athiestic melancholy…

Chapter II

That pure lust for savagery overcomes us in our arrogant times of disarray and pulls these words down to but a fragment of what it means to be truly explained. When the contorted and disfigured arm of The Jackal reigns upon us and slams, only to seal our fate, We shall be but a shred of what even the lowest pits of the well perceive to be truly fading to black. Cross not your heart and swear to die for This utterly gorgeous blasphemy may be exactly what is to be upon the masses you so claim you love. The shreds of the Jackals’ victims shall make the Coat of a new king of a frozen kingdom. Of which our darkest nature will be visible. These malicious masquerades bring forth the masks we want to be seen as. When He removes our filters and our covers from us, to truly reveal what is ourselves, we shriek such that is would crack the stars. The Jackal is what we choose to ignore about the lustfully self-punishing cross-bearer of ourselves. The kiss of the hate and melancholy crosses the barriers we can imagine and fuels His rage and torment. Mistake not our fault for the world of carelessness and low cost of life we live within that was created and is sustained by us, the ones who try to stop ourselves from what others do not find pleasurable and thus tighten our own straight-jackets.

2nd Key
Chapter I
He was of no importance to no one. Is it not horrible of how he knew of his own lunacy? The Man knew of the animal within and refused those fateful acts than define us all with our own queries. To shield the world of the wicked claws he bore, he shackled himself within the restraints of that which is the institution made by corrupt men in order to purify others. The Critical irony which all this produces. He knew of the seeping darkness that leaked through his own mind and would not allow the darkness of his lusts which he repressed to be ravaged upon those whom created it such. A saint with the sickness of the dark well full of darkness whom had come about through the wretched and rancid womb of a whore sacrificed all for just being. Who is nobler than such?

Chapter II
The tempetuous lines we cross bring forth such nightmares that we unknowingly bring into this world. Tattering to pieces the thought of which innocence might be maintained through the libituous findings available within the knowing the difference between the Infinite and the finite things we find throughout this realm. Watch the blood-stained Snowflakes fall to the ground. O, How the Crimson snow is the sign of How Black Hell’s winter May truly be.

Chapter III
Disciples! Come and Fall with me! And see the birth of the new Human race! Bow to your God of Cyanide! The New Millenium Cyanide Christ! Let it all freeze over along with my claws! The whores you love are what I am of! Can you feel the icy scratches yet? While I sit upon my throne of Ice covered within the skin of your transgressions, don’t you ever wonder why? Why you made such a thing? The product of your pendolum swaying, throwing your blood from opposite to crimson cloud! Let me cross the Devils bridge to my home once again, to return to my snow covered fortress in which my War table of Ice is governed from the savagery you hold deep within. My court table of Ice reigns Infinitely!

3rd Key
Chapter I
My doomed fallout says nothing other than how my greatness of oblivion rules within. Bride my dear beloved cold and Iced death for which the grave brings but memories of the home I had to leave. Floweth forth that great Red that belongs forth as is said. Incise. Replace. Deplete it all. Just awaiting the unraveling to unleash the ravishing. Black imperfections shed the light we need onto the moments we heed no attention to cherish.

Chapter II
Crack. Snap. Replace. How long will this symbiotic ambigram remain misunderstood… The Most interesting word made of all Human skin. Pull back the red, virgin skin across the back of your ears and tell me is it all still the same. Plot forth to regain all we thought we’d never have. Cold stone brings it all back once again to the way it once was. My banshee screams chill you to your very essence so easily? Spinning in circles with my eyes blinded, screaming,”WHY AM I ALIVE?!”

The Final Transformation
Bones turn to bars as the Vitriolic acid brings back the High. Wrap that cold steel around my blinded face and finally let that beast out from within. On all fours, Can’t you understand my archaic growls? Or is the black seeping from my eyes only but a distraction? Tranquility brings out the torture and Block away all the inconsistincies and look it in the eyes! Smooth forth the creation of features and pin my ribs closer to my insides. The dues of inhalation are what brings that gutteral scream for mercy that you hear. Flip my picture around and read the written flesh. Lady death holds my string in two from now on. As I crawl on all fours with the black pouring from my bolt infused mouth and eyes, the ice flows forth from my hands… The only Jackal within.

TO BE CONTINUED…

-Alucard GrimmJow Lx