[Wed. - Day 10 - Late Evening]Lounging atop a disheveled pile of silk sheets, naked and sweat-damp and sticky, I can feel the vibrations through the mattress as the body beside me struggles to catch his breath ( Read more... )

Evening of Day Six.

If you are ever alone with God, ask Him:
Whose blood coloured the story of Adam?
I rankle in God's heart like a thorn. But what about you?
All you do is chant 'He is God!' over and over!
('Gabriel and Iblis', Muhammad Iqbal)
I look over Excolo. The rain has stopped, but the air still rumbles with the promise of thunder. ( Read more... )

The gazebo is lit with lanterns draped in soft, red silk.  Lena brought them down from my rooms earlier today and set them as I'd asked her to.  They are too small and few to give much light, but what illumination they do give spills like blood along the gazebo's painted floor.   I smile at the sight.  It has been almost three weeks since my last ( Read more... )

The carriage finally clatters to a halt, and I breathe a sigh of relief I catch sight of home outside the window.  A brothel might be a poor sort of home to many, but home it is to me, and home it has been for several months now.  Nor is it a bad home; Miss Bathory is a strong-willed and intelligent woman, considerate of the clients and protective ( Read more... )

I take a final sip of the oily brown liquid the cookhouse passes off as coffee as I wait to step out onto the makeshift stage. Outside I can hear the bally talker as he finishes up turning the tip and hands the microphone off to the spieler; the first few people are trickling into the tent.

"Move right on up to the box, I have to go in and start ( Read more... )