The story unfolded and fires of disbelief ravage the cords of reason. Holocaust! The truth is so bitter, so twisted, that it ravages the synapse land; threatening to destroy the mind of the brother betrayed.
John, a mage of the Dark Path. Worshipper of the Fallen One – the dark angel who rebelled against Heaven. Like the brother turned prodigal, the fold feels betrayed.
Master of the Temple, proud drug addict, rapist, murderer (though he claims it to be sacrifice to the ‘True Lord’ – the usurper). He who lived behind the mask of brotherhood and love.
Who only loved Babylon, high priestess, Temple prostitute – Julia.
Deadly rites of vicious intent used to summon the vampire, their weapon of destruction and gift to a world gone mad.
So often the traitor had tried to convert Paul to his ways, invaded deep his mind. Unknown battle of wills, misplaced love versus the golden cross adorned with a man of peace; an idol Paul unconsciously clung to like a leech.
And now… what coincidence had led Paul to stumble upon the sordid truth. The ancient trust of brothers’ lies shattered upon the floor – the shards rip bitter pain.
Now he was to be taken, gagged and bound, to the Temple, held locked in a cell to await the time of sacrifice. Aztec lost blood graffiti – the heart beats still, when removed with speed; held high in the gory hand of triumph.
“You know, Paul, I never wanted it to be like this.”
Paul spits defiance into the hideous visage revealed behind a once beautiful mask.
© 1990 & 2006 Andrew M Boylan