After the completion of 'Seraphim' (the 'Anti-Lament' [link]
), Lemarchands configurations had been relegated to the status of beautiful and intricate puzzle boxes, but nothing more... their power to open portals for Cenobites had been cancelled out, leaving them trapped and powerless in Leviathans realm. This was obviously not something they would suffer for long. Unable to enter our reality to recruit a new box maker, their mad clawing at the fabric of reality managed to open a small tear in the mind of one whose consciousness was nearer to leviathans realm than most and contact him in a dream in order to make him the same offer they made to their betrayer, Captain Nathan Green.
( Extract from the journal of N.G.)
"I was to be the new Lemarchand and create boxes anew for this beast and its brethren so that they might sow their ecstasies amongst mankind again, my reward would be power, wealth beyond imagining and a place amongst their ranks when the end time came…"
My evening had been relatively uneventful. I had seen her as she left the club drunkenly with a few of her friends, watched as she sat down for a moment on the park bench and her companions had staggered away, not noticing through their alcoholic haze that their number had dwindled by one.
Luckily the park was quiet that night, So stealth was not needed; I openly walked up, took her by the throat and dragged her into the shadows of the nearby bushes to begin my work. The blades and sculpting tools wrapped in their velvet nest by my heart clicked against each other impatiently, eager to show this new flesh the pleasures they could inflict. I remembered how once this had thrilled me. How my heart had raced, but no more. The tools now felt the excitement for me, I simply felt the satisfaction of a job well done and happiness for the flesh that had enjoyed so much pleasure at my hands before departing.
Before I could begin however, another group of revellers came loudly into view and sat on the very bench my squirming companion had occupied only a few moments before. They were close. Too close for comfort. I could smell the acrid mix of smells coming from them, Alcohol, fast food and perfume blended together into a single nauseating stench. The flesh beneath my hands smelled them too and began to thrash even more, whimpers of attempted screams issuing from her swollen lips. I tightened my grip and with a soft snap she stopped her protestations.
Such a waste of life. I felt deeply saddened and regretful that she had left before I and my tools could show her what pleasures life could hold.
Ah well, tomorrow is another day.
So I went home, kissed my wife, apologised for my lateness , watched some T.V. and went to bed.
That’s when the dreams started.
I awoke filled with drive. I could remember nothing at that moment of my dreams other that the sense of purpose they had instilled in me. My day work as a jeweller now had new direction and meaning. My mind was filled with new knowledge, powerful new knowledge. Intricate shapes and mechanisms filled my head, some almost crude in their bluntness, others so detailed that their subtleties that their movement would cause the very fabric of reality to blur and tear.
As I sat on the edge of my bed, my head spinning, more of my dreams came back to me with each moment.. I remembered figures speaking to me, figures that reminded me of my private work after the tools had worked their magic on them, glistening in the strange black light that washed over them. But despite their many wounds their voices were the most beautiful I had ever heard, and their sound mesmerised me.
Oh, and such promises they made. They would teach me new ways to work that would make the tools jealous in their inadequacy, new pleasures to visit on those I chose and they would offer a place among them as reward for my labours. They spoke of limitless power, limitless pleasure, limitless experience and all just for continuing to do what I love, only so much better that I had ever done it before.
Names they had taught me. Histories of past makers who now spent eternity enjoying their gifts, and one name in particular, one that made their beautiful voices darken, their honey tones turning to acid in their throats as they spoke it with such venom it made me feel fear where before had been only joy.
“Captain Nathan Green.”
Their hatred for him was total, their pleasures were not for him, only a swift oblivion. He would be the first they had ever simply ended, without ceremony or instruction in the ways of their raptures. But first it would fall to me to let them in. they needed time to rebuild what once they were.
Their instructions to me were clear, take the knowledge they had given me and study the works of Magnus, Lemarchand, Kunst and yes, even Green, and with what I learn, find a way to circumvent the barriers of Greens' 'Seraphim' and give them back what they had lost, a way in.
In my minds eye I saw already what my fist creation would look like.. its workings would take a little time and perhaps a few lives to achieve, but I already saw her and knew her name.
It seemed fitting that my first creation be named after my first Pupil, she to whom I had taught my first lessons in pleasure with the aid of my tools before she departed; She with the eyes so blue and the necklace of Navajo turquoise.. I still remembered where I had buried her on that warm summer evening, deep in the forest where so many now lay, and I will take my creation to her and baptise it in her grave.
And I will call it... “Louise”
Created in Photoshop
Inspired by Hellraiser