Rachel (trojanfacelives) wrote in inside_a_storm,
Rachel
trojanfacelives
inside_a_storm

be prepared for stupidity

Title: The age before the pigs
Genre: fiction
rating: R because satan is involved and he is a bad boy
Description: This is horribly un-edited, i typed it up in about 20 minutes i originally wrote it for a friend of mine, and its original intent was supposed to HUMOR but no one really laughed

Everyone's read this but hoots, i'm just trying to keep it alive baby

The Age Before the Pigs

~As told by Satan~



It began in the year 846 a.d. I was roaming the Earth out of time, and slightly out of place. It was a time of confusion for me. I was growing tired of sitting on my throne in Hell. And after all, I am not as evil as the good book says. It's not easy being Satan you know.

It was on one of these endless nights, when the moon was full, illuminating off of every object, that I heard the sound of drums and cheering. I was curious, so I walked in the direction of the music. I witnessed a group of foreigners (most likely from the North). They were sitting around a blazing fire, drinking their vile wine and feasting upon some type of boar. There were not many women in the group. In fact, there were only two. One being an old woman, hiding behind a tattered cape, with a crying infant in her arms. The other was a beautiful young woman, with golden locks, wearing a simple white dress. It fit her tiny form perfectly. She was dancing violently and somewhat passionately to the eerie tune, obviously gloating off of the attention she was receiving from her male audience. They were clapping, cheering, "Haskadell! Haskadell!" This was obviously the name of this strange young woman. I found it difficult to take my eyes off of her. At some point, she caught my gaze, causing her to pause for a moment. But then she gave a sly smile, and began dancing at a more rapid pace, obviously to show off. But then she looked up to find that I had vanished. The music had stopped, and she stood there, chest heaving, scanning the dark with her beautiful gypsy eyes. The men were reaching towards her in a drunken manner, repeating her name, but she said, "Now's not the time. I need rest." And then she wandered off into the night. The music began to play again. Obviously, she was searching for her mysterious watcher. I played with her head for a bit before I finally stopped behind a giant boulder and grabbed her by the arm. She gave out a little gasp and then she smiled, and stared into my eyes. I caught a look of wonder, and innocence in her gaze, as she lightly touched my face. I found myself to be in a state of complete surrender. As if I would do anything for this woman. "Haskadell," I whispered. She fell into my arms and I kissed her passionately. She touched me, and after she discovered my hardness she gave a little laugh and ran her kisses down my neck. I whispered her name again and crooned against her. . . Yeah, there's no need to go into detail.

I fell in love with this mortal woman, and for two years I wandered Europe with her people. Eventually we decided that we wanted to go in another direction, so we said goodbye to the group. Before departing, the strange old woman pulled me to her, and in a shaky voice said, "Trouble. Haskadell is nothing but misery. You can see it in her eyes. Difficult is the road that lies ahead." I smiled and gently kissed the old woman on the forehead, and then we left.

Haskadell was beautiful. A free spirit. She told me she wanted to find her family. We traveled to the place of her birth. An eerie town, full of expressionless people. A strange spell lay over the place, of that I was sure. Suddenly, I heard the sound of Haskadell's screams, and turned to realize that the town’s people had grabbed her and were carrying her away from me. "Haskadell!" I screamed, desperately. They took her to a strange castle. I was not able to get in. Two weeks went by before I was led in. I found her, in a room by herself, with only one window. She had on her white dress, and she had her face buried in it, sobbing uncontrollably. I ran to her and held her. "What goes on here?!?" I shouted at a nurse. "The. . .the king's in a state of madness! For his love of Haskadell is deep, and after discovering that his love is only one sided, he murdered her family, in front of her." Haskadell wailed out a strange call in a foreign tongue and ran past me, down the corridor. I followed her to a strange room. In front of me I witnessed the most horrific display of human torture. It was her family, each one of them dismembered, all nailed to the wall. I looked into the face of the mother, her mouth still open from screaming. She had pale eyes. Yes, even the infant was slaughtered in the same fashion. The king stepped out of the shadows, with his sinister laugh. "Haskadell, you must be thirsty after all you've gone through. See here, I've brewed something special just for you." he said walking towards a giant barrel. Sure enough, it contained human blood. The blood of Haskadell's family. She just stared into the barrel. To the king’s surprise, she picked up a goblet lying by her feet, filled it with the blood and drank it. She nearly threw it up, causing the blood to trickle down her throat. She went for another sip, this time wailing in pain. "Haskadell!" I shouted and ran towards her. She held her hand up to me, in signal for me to stop. Suddenly she peeled off her white dress, the sun gleaming off her milky white breasts. She threw the garment in the barrel, and swished it around, soaking it in the blood. I watched, horrified as she swished it around, splattering the blood all over her feet and her beautiful hair. Finally she pulled the dress out, wrung it a bit, and put it back on. "Never shall I remover this garment! As long as I live!" She screamed, the blood dripping down her lovely white limbs, and hitting the floor. The king was terrified. He shunned us out of his kingdom.

Haskadell and I traveled many miles that day, without rest. Eventually we reached a cave. She led me in. She told me that I must impregnate her, so that she may live on through her child. I held her face in my hands and covered her with the gentlest of kisses, and the she pulled me down to her. It was the strangest of all love making.

She became pregnant bye me, and many months later, she gave birth to a dark haired baby girl. She was as beautiful as her mother. The child grew. But not like a normal child. You must realize that Haskadell was never quite the same after the gruesome thing that happened to her family. Haskadell did not teach this child love. In fact she did not even give her a name. Her purpose in making her was to create a monster. She couldn't get over the loss of her family. She never removed the blood stained dress. She wanted her daughter to live as a reminder of the hate that lurked in her soul. She taught our daughter nothing but hate and every form of human cruelty. In fact she was not my daughter. She was Haskadell's daughter. I had nothing to do with her upbringing.

Six years later, Haskadell knew it was time. I didn't stop her. WE made love one more time before she climbed to the top of a cliff in her blood stained gown, and laughing maniacally, met her fate at the bottom of the river. They say if you truly love something, let it go. So I let her go.

Personally I wanted nothing to do with the child. She was frightening. Her dark hair a tangled mess, hanging over her pudgy limbs. She stood for pure hate and evil, and I abandoned her and traveled south. It was my hope that she'd die in the cave, for something tortured in such a fashion has no reason to go on living and she meant nothing but misery and nightmares to anyone who came in contact with her.

Two years later, I heard rumor of a strange "plague" that was sweeping the French countryside. I traveled to this place, and sure enough I found her there. Now 8 years old. An angry mob had her, and they were all screaming the French word for witch. The scene took me back to the fateful day when the mob of people took my Haskadell away from me. The child had haunted the dreams of the town’s people for quite some time. No one knew why she was still alive, for she lived through the plague, and she had been locked in a room with nothing to eat for the past six months. The damned bitch just would not die! Many of the young boys of the village had died at her hand. Either murdered by her own hand, or driven to madness by her creep powers of seduction and possession. A dark cloud hung over the town because of the child with no name. And now they were going to put an end to it. I watched as they chopped her head off, the whole time, she never blinked. I think I caught a bit of a smile actually. The same sly smile of her mother. They then cheered and danced in the street, sticking her head on a fence, and throwing her pudgy childlike body in the street.

You think the story's over? Well I would like to say it is, but there’s more. There was a pig pen up against the fence. Some time during the night, the pigs had climbed their way up the fence to the head and they had knocked the head into the pen and they devoured it. The next morning, five men were found dead. The widows of the men flung themselves on the dead bodies, wailing out, one woman even took her own life, then and there. The pigs were gone. All that remained in the pen were the child's dead eyes.

You see, the child was pure evil, and a soul like that never dies. It was Haskadell's wish, to avenge her family's death. This way, the torture of her family would never be forgotten. She lived on through the pigs. Her misery lived on through the pigs. And the pigs multiplied, terrorizing the country side, living off of human flesh.

Eventually, I knew I was the one who needed to keep things under control. Surely I could've just slaughtered the damned things, but for my undying love of Haskadell, I let them live. And this is why, to this day, there are the wethreeporks.

Sometimes, I still speak with my beloved Haskadell. She comes to me through mirrors, still wearing her blood stained gown, dancing in a barbaric fashion. She often teases me and laughs her strange laugh. On one occasion, it enraged me so much, that I smashed the mirror into a thousand pieces, but this only made the sound of her laughter multiply a thousand times. I pieced the mirror back together. Haskadell is a tortured soul, but I love her with all that I am. We are separated for now. Until the day, when the porks find the flesh of the descendants of the evil king, and feast upon it, Haskadell can not be free. When this day comes, the mirror shall be shattered and my Haskadell shall be with me once more, forever in eternity, and the wethreeporks shall be no more. So you see, it is really just a love story (with a SLIGHTLY morbid twist).
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