Muerte del Mujeriego (Death of the Womanizer)
Debauchee Death
A lively Saturday night in a growing city the evening was promising. Young, built, and attractive, Darren's options for entertainment and pleasure were beyond guaranteed. Plowing into the couch after a shot, and double shot, of whiskey, he picked up the phone. Visuals always assisted Darren when making selections. His apartment was very modern and stylish. A warehouse vibe, Darren loved his open man cave. Ceiling to floor large pane windows put the universe on display. A crisp winter night with a deep blue background, the stars were especially bright. Educated, the sky always baffled Darren. So vast, so beautiful, and so much to be explored, but too far away so lost.
Erin stole Darren's attention from the sky. Curvy, smart, and wide-eyed she was ready for exploration. As his nature swelled, a should be good solid fill was deflated by disgust, disrespect, and deep scorn. Instantly Darren began to hear his gran's warning of being dishonest with a woman's heart: "Always have truth on your side, a woman lied to has nature on her's and baby nature can be a scary thing."
He was no saint, but damn nothing that deep came to mind. "Fuck that," snarled Darren, he instinctively stood and headed to his bar. "Nothing was stealing my pleasure tonight," he had paid his dues this week. Walking over to his prep station he saw her.
Eerily still, the woman was exceptionally attractive. Darren panned to the left then right. She was alone, which was odd. The storefronts across the lot were always live. A combination of eateries, small stores, and a busy bar the parking lot was host to all types of activities. She was standing next to a light pillar. He could see her clearly. The woman was stunning. Darren walked closer to the glass, feeling drawn. The ideal frame of what is a woman, her short trench coat tightly hugged her waist. Her face straight. Alluring as she was the woman's eyes pierced the thin air with deadly precision. Leisurely taking his shots Darren wondered, "What could she be thinking?"
"No one should know what I am contemplating," thought Lacey. Her blood was warm. Her breaths were steady. She had prayed heavily. Lacey had meditated for hours, yet still, she was here. Having made her amends there were no regards. Standing under a street light discretion was irrelevant. Seething with scorn, Lacey was present and comfortable with all consequences. She came for her justice. Karma permitted and seemingly graced this notion as she had indeed found him. Still, as stone, she could sense him.
Her heart flooded with fresh memories of the pain. The humiliation, lies, subtle but flagrant disrespect. "He did not value me," Lacey uttered. "I was good to him, I gave him my body." It was frigid outside, the winter air was arctic. Warm steam from Lacey's nostrils filled the dark night like dragon smoke. A quicksilver tear fell as ice down her cheek. The soil of being violated seeped from her core dangerously pouring foulness into reality. The night paused as Lacey was no more. The woman all men drooled over was soon to be a monster all would scream at. He was in her sight.
Great night. Pockets full of money, blood warm with tequila, and three dolls at his side Raul was living this day. Feeling good he thought of home. How satisfying it would feel to be back there. In this very moment full in his glory, for all his buddies to see. Much was different here. The culture was confusing. It felt good to be in the comforts of what was familiar. Raul was torn. A very masculine native conditioning would not allow that to show. He was a good man, better than most men from his childhood.
"Yeah, I am a good man." With a handful of surgically sculpted ass and a crotch warm with another, Raul ordered them all another round. Returning from the bathroom, the last to his trio of concubines pouted for an exit. They had exhausted their supply of happy powder. Raul chugged his beer; he was ready to see how long he could swim in these scuttle buckets after a few more lines himself. Paying the tab, Raul theatrically collected his floozies for the audience of bar patrons. The miniature bachelor party headed for the door. He planned on banging out every bad feeling associated with trying to be the opposite of his present situation.
"Lacey," softly whispered through his heart. Raul's breath was razor-edged like a blade through the chest. He knew he fucked her over. "I fucked up. She was a good one. She is the one." Believing there was no fixing the slight, distraction eroded amends. Even if there was a chance, Raul really didn't want to be that man. Truthfully, Raul was comfortable being what he saw growing up as a child, a man's man. He was satisfied just being somewhat better. "I am the best man from my family."
"I earned this life, I deserve this life!" Sensing his shift, the attention fiends at Raul's side clutched him tightly. Playing their part, seductive hands stroked all the right zones. The cold air refreshed Raul's ego. Once again all he could feel was warm flesh and he indulged in his not so guilty pleasure.
"He is content. Smug. He is enjoying himself!" Lacey's eyes swelled. The lava in her core erupted. Mutated, Lacey's soft human shape gave way to fury. The light inside filled and blinded all Lacey could recognize. A graceful "forgive me" evaporated into the winter still as she attacked.
Bulging with pleasure, Raul halted in his tracks, hair was raised on the back of his neck. His consciousness was struggling through the sea of alcohol and drugs. It was all but too late when he saw her. Blinking several times, Raul saw Lacey. He heard her voice shrill but he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. The figure took one step, however, was close like she had taken twenty. With a better visual, the delicate and very feminine woman he once sank deep into was not what stood feet away. Before Raul was something from a horror film. She, it, was horrifying.
The group was numb with fear. They stood frozen as if paused. Flailing with rage, the monster paralyzed with fire red eyes. Larger than any human's, the orbs freakish size filled the night with an unsettling stiffness. Evil itself seemed to swarm around this being. Dark cloud like vapors lurked from Lacey towards Raul and his tramps. The atmosphere shifted to what seemed to be the monsters whim. Thinner and oxygen deprived the air became unsustainable. Gasping for life, the nauseating evil energy filled their stomachs with nerves. One woman collapsing to her knees vomiting. All present felt their imminent termination, most of all Raul.
One more step and the she-monster was in arm's reach. Raul's life flashed before his eyes. The comfort of warmth and familiarity of his country flooded his memories. His mother meek and steady. The shameful pain of his father's self-serving lifestyle. Lastly, Raul thought of the many women he had splurged. "Lacey." Pride was overruled by survival, remorse sunk deep in his chest. Any good present in Raul gave way to the acknowledgment he was currently faced with, he deserved this end.
Raul could not breathe. The pressure of the evil in front of him was crushing. Between blinks, the savage's movements were swift yet slowed in motion. The creature that once was Raul's best pleasure doll reached out with a God-like force for his chest. Raul had no defense, even if his mind could coordinate some type of response, it would surely be futile. Skin and bones were like paper to the outraged powered beast.
Falling to his knees, he felt pain like never before. Raul's hands over the hole that once housed his heart. The color of life drained from his golden face. Almost afraid to look, Raul's eyes hugged the top corners of his eyelids. "She is holding my heart." The best example of love the damaged man knew had his heart in the palm of her hand. She always had. The beating of the organ believed nonexistent was deafening in the reverberant parking lot.
Barely able to form thoughts to explain what they were experiencing the half dressed trollops at Raul's side chattered with fear. Their hair turning iced grey instantaneously falling out from the root, the women scattered from his side like roaches from light. The irony so vulgar even karma seemed to cringe. Raul remembered the look in his mother's eyes when he was a boy. Her unprotected hurt-filled gaze his father's actions caused. He never wanted to be like him. Looking at his heart in the palm of his infringed dilapidated lover, Raul's prayers for forgiveness seemed all but too late. As life drained from his body all that was left of the flamboyant man's man ego was disgraced soaked love.
He thought of Lacey and how full she made him. How uncomfortable and challenging it was to be loved so deeply and unconditionally when he didn't even know himself. How he secretly yearned and missed her scent. The innocence her erotically saturated touch yielded on his soul upon contact lingered. With his prized flesh fading Raul finally understood. Accepting his fate, he alone would end a generational curse of souls that plagued many potentially good men of his lineage. The ultimate sacrifice, Raul believed his life would pay these dues. Colors fading from his surroundings, breath all but nonexistent Raul harnessed the last of his strength to mutter:
"Mi mayor amor, nunca mereciste este sentimiento. Perdoname, te hecho daño (My greatest love, you never deserved this feeling. Forgive me, I have wronged you.)"
Lifeless, Raul's body lie still on the cold winter pavement. "She killed me." Raul was in a state of disbelief. "My love really killed me."
Confused and disoriented, Raul did not understand how he was looking down at his own dead body. Holding his hands in front of what should be his face Raul felt the bottom of his gut, "soy un espiritu (I am a spirit)." Raul's soul was floating over his corpse. The brute that was Lacey threw his heart to the ground cracking the pavement underneath. Squishing his most prized vessel of life under her heel, Raul felt the deepest nerve cringing pain imaginable in his non-physical core. In shock, there was no thought. As if the universe itself summoned the creature it vanished into the thin crisp blinding light, emerging from the light was a divine image. Raul felt suspended in the abyss of creation itself. He was inanimate in an uncanny manner.
The being before Raul was comforting. A gorgeous female, she was an angel. Curvy like the rolling hills of his country, her hair flowed like freshwater rivers Raul frequented as a child. Fluidly warm with pleasure, the sensation rooted in Raul's soul was pure. "Lacey." The recognition stung, even in the afterlife she was invigorating. Raul searched the familiar face attempting to locate some sense of reciprocated emotion. There was none, the false sense of forgiveness quickly dissolved. Raul felt a pulling sensation, the force was undeniable and not comfortable. There was no opposing this force. His only option, give in with his whole being. Darkness succumbing all awareness his soul was consumed into nothingness. Raul was no more than a cold flesh bag. Soul sucked.
"This soul is yours and yours until the end of times. No longer serving the feminine nor the greater good this soul is eternally returned to the depths of creation." Stern and gaping the superiority of karma echoed through Lacey's essence. Her breaths were unruffled yet rapidly paced. There she was over his dead body yet she churned inside, unfulfilled. She was there, but absent. Fire again filled her eyes. A flawlessly unemotional voice floated through the pain constructed by the debauchee. "You love him, Lacey, have mercy." Hurt overruled, the unconditional loving side of Lacey eased her contentions. An energetic burst of released vexation shattered the glass of cars unfortunately close. Lacey's eyes chilled from lava orange to the richest universal black. Her pelvic girdle illuminated an iridescent neon black glow. One unified motion fused Lacey's pelvis with the hand holding the heart of the heartless. Her unworthy former lover's lifeless body rose to its feet with unnatural animation, seemingly awaiting her command.
The force of disappointment lingered in her mind. Despondent, "even still I am weakened with love," fumed Lacey. The fleshy organ once pink and healthy was nothing more than a wilted clump of misshapen cells. Lacey flung Raul's heart back into the hollow in his chest. Drained of life force, the zest essential organ was no heart at all. The impact of the excessively rough reunion dropped Raul again to his knees. Bowing before Lacey no longer the man-child lacking integrity who smudged good women with the stain of his inadequacies. Eyes desolate, the zombie of Raul would have to suffice as justice for Lacey. The man stood and aimlessly shuffled off into the night.
Adjusting the belt to her spotless designer mid length trench coat, Lacey's appealing face remained unmoved. Poised, as if returning from a much-needed spa rendezvous, Lacey sensually guided a piece of hair from her face. "I am loved. I am valued. I am enough. I am a deserving partner. I deserve a worthy partner." Her voice tranquil and light, Lacey repeated the affirmations as she scenically strolled the street into the dark cover of night.
Darren was glued to his window struggling to comprehend what he just witnessed. Words were useless. Staggering like the zombified man in the parking lot, Darren again headed towards his bar. Grabbing the whole bottle of whiskey he took a healthy chug. The man in him could not easily dismiss the woman's impenetrable appearance.
"How did she do that? How could she do that? She was beautiful," he murmured aloud. The images began to flood his brain. The horrific monster the woman became eroded everything he knew of women. The angelic form that emerged from that same monster sent deep vibrations of divinity rippling his soul. Darren was left questioning the last time he attended church or called his mother or told one of his lady "friends" how appreciated she was. Most disturbing of all was the child. Darren's logical database was erupting with relevance to his interactions with the feminine, gauging his own safety. Of all that women were and had been, now more than ever, Darren was aware of the innocence and innate rage the misused love of a woman possessed.
The way that child-like demon ripped dude's heart out was disturbingly gruesome. "I wasn't ready for that," whispered Darren. Even more alarming was "what the kid did with the heart." Darren's mind was racing, he thought of the man leaving the bar.
"He damn sure didn't think his night was going to end like that! Walking out the bar with THREE bad wenches about to lay pipe in every one of them. Not a fucking care in the world." Darren festered in the man's short-lived glory with ample empathy.
"Within the next five minutes, that man's heart was ripped out his chest, he was resurrected and turned into the walking dead! Dude ain't even get a chance to say a word."
"Cold world," Darren saluted pouring out some liquor on his newly stained hardwood floors.
"Guess some shit an apology don't fix." Darren's night was definitely ruined.
Everything Darren had just witnessed defied reason. He hadn't always lived under the skirt tail of luxury, he had seen his share of raw shit. Nothing even qualified to be compared with tonight. Several missed messages from Erin and hours later Darren was in the same spot on his couch. "Get up," uttered a persistently troubled Darren. Sobered by the night's earlier incident he walked into his spa-like bathroom seeking relief. Dark granite floors and matching countertops greeted the alpha male. A good shower always set things right: "Cleanliness is next to Godliness they say." Equipped with mood lighting Darren needed all the help available to ease the discomforts of what he had observed through his living room windows. The child lingered most. Droplets of water fell massaging his head rolling down Darren's muscularly defined neck and shoulders. He breathed in the steam that filled the room. Lush and mysteriously striking, thick effervescence from the shower triggered vivid flashbacks. Searching for obscurity the Sports Illustrated model turned Michael Jackson thriller werewolf was no easy feat to decipher, even for an iron-clad minded man like Darren.
"That beauty turned into a beast and that beast turned into a child." He could not understand why that kid was more blood-curdling than any of the other occult activities he had seen that night. Darren was a man. A strong man. A good man. "Right as the beast reached out for the kill that thick maleficent smoke appeared. Then children of the corns' ancestor was there in place of the monster."
"The kid was so beautiful it was divine," was all Darren could express in thought. The light that surrounded the child replayed in his mind. "She was glowing. What type of glow was that?" Dressed like the first photographs of the native peoples of the Americas, "a small child that size should have been frozen stiff in the winter night." Rationality was not on Darren's side.
"Its face." Hard to describe that much rage and pain, the way the tiny face was twisted and screwed was so unnatural. "I had to look away," Darren mumbled, attempting to defend his manhood. The sight of so much displaced intense emotion made one want to sob and scream at the same time. "Any good human would want to soothe the child," thought Darren. A good person would try to find out what type of monster could have caused this level of harm. "It wasn't right seeing a kid hurting like that." As thoughts of valor crowded his mind Darren's intellect was transparent with solace, "that creature was no fucking child."
Darren could not easily force the vivid images away. The kid looked no more than six, at best. "She struck him so hard his neck lashed back and forth like it was rubber." Ripping the heart from his body, "the evil spawn just held the damn thing like it was a toy or something." Flaming energy swells dispersing from the child scorched Darren's pristine memory. He had been safe in his apartment as she hovered off the ground and the six foot tall, two hundred ten pound man could sense danger. "That weird fluorescent black light shining between her legs. What did she do to man's heart inside that shit?" Perplexed even further, the beastly robotic noise drenched in electromagnetic interference was still audible in Darren's ears. The child had made the screeching sound as the heart disappeared from sight into that doomed void. "Just like that, the child was gone." Who could Darren describe this shit too, who would believe him?
Floating in the child's place was the beautiful woman again but she wasn't physical. Darren recalled being able to see her however he could also see through her. "Was she a ghost?" Her eyes angelically large she innocently gazed at dude's body. Her mouth never moved but it seemed as if she had told the man's body to rise like a mummy. She threw his heart back into his body like a great baseball champ. "It was too much force behind that." Looks definitely had the potential to lie. "That woman was no angel," that Darren was sure about. "That man was dead. What could he have done to her? I watched him die." Having seen the dead man standing somewhat alive again Darren was driving himself insane sifting through his clear recall of the terrifying events.
"The look on his face wasn't right, he wasn't all there and the way he walked off. That wasn't the drunk I got caught up bounce, that was the walking dead shuffle." His thoughts were exhausting, Darren turned off the water. Stepping out the shower his feet were received by the warmth of heated floors. Air dried his sculpted physique while looking for his favorite basketball shorts. The special shorts represented Darren's glory days. A simple but vain comfort. Sitting on the edge of his cherry oak bed Darren rose then kneeled at the bedside. Elbows leaving deep impressions in the memory foam mattress he began to do something he hadn't done in a very long time. Darren began to pray.
The End.
Debauchee Death
Because we are too great and they too less to have our true justice in this realm
I write this for our healing
Ocean filled tears of love and light
The relentless will of the all-seeing
Mother Nature forever and always embodies her daughters'
filling them with unmeasurable might
- Maria
About the Creator
Maria Crank
Registered Nurse,Certified Energy Healing Practitioner, self published author and your Oracle, Earth Warrior. On a mission to help facilitate a collective positive reality for all. Humanity it is time to heal. Let us heal together.
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