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Offerings to my sister.
My spirit was fairly high when I reached the cave. I dropped my satchel on the cave ground and inhaled deeply, the unholy musty air of the cave. With me, I had brought some tobacco, a half mutilated rotting rat carrion, a fourth of whiskey, a bottle of piss and semen and a red dragon skull (a chameleon skull) as an offering to Lizzy's soul.
I lit tobacco inside the red dragon's skull and placed it on the altar in front of Lizzy's worn out photograph and poured the mixture of whiskey, piss and semen on her old blood-stained pink panty that she'd worn when she bled for the very first time.
I drank some whiskey and clamped the rat carrion between my jaws and sat in a meditative position in front of the altar, channelling Lizzy's spirit into me. Tiny maggots wriggled out of the rat's eye sockets and from the sides of my mouth and fell into my lap. After channelling Lizzy for almost an hour, I took out some salt and Lizzy's molars from my belt pouch as my final offerings to her. The energy of her spirit had given me a boner, I couldn't fuck her spirit, so I restricted my lust to the rat carrion, which I destroyed with a single impetus of my dick.
At dinner, I tried to talk to my father about Lizzy. "Today's Elizabeth's birthday," I said.
To which he authoritatively exclaimed, "We don't celebrate birthdays of the dead, boy!."
Laurel overheard me and was awkwardly surprised at my mention of Lizzy after all these years.
"Do you remember her little master?" She squeamishly inquired?
"Enough!" My father shouted, hitting the table with his fist, "Not a single word about her."
Poor old Laurel quickly ran towards the cooking area, visibly upset at a certain outburst of my father, which was very unlike him. But of course, Elizabeth was sacred for him. His firstborn and my Elder Sister. Father left for his room with thick melancholy suspended above him. Each of our nights was long and battered by loss. I could feel the spirit of Elizabeth inside me running down my spine to my dick to give me a boner. Her spirit never seems to leave me, her raper and killer. And her body will never leave the cave, her eternal dwelling.
© Su_tshant
I lit tobacco inside the red dragon's skull and placed it on the altar in front of Lizzy's worn out photograph and poured the mixture of whiskey, piss and semen on her old blood-stained pink panty that she'd worn when she bled for the very first time.
I drank some whiskey and clamped the rat carrion between my jaws and sat in a meditative position in front of the altar, channelling Lizzy's spirit into me. Tiny maggots wriggled out of the rat's eye sockets and from the sides of my mouth and fell into my lap. After channelling Lizzy for almost an hour, I took out some salt and Lizzy's molars from my belt pouch as my final offerings to her. The energy of her spirit had given me a boner, I couldn't fuck her spirit, so I restricted my lust to the rat carrion, which I destroyed with a single impetus of my dick.
At dinner, I tried to talk to my father about Lizzy. "Today's Elizabeth's birthday," I said.
To which he authoritatively exclaimed, "We don't celebrate birthdays of the dead, boy!."
Laurel overheard me and was awkwardly surprised at my mention of Lizzy after all these years.
"Do you remember her little master?" She squeamishly inquired?
"Enough!" My father shouted, hitting the table with his fist, "Not a single word about her."
Poor old Laurel quickly ran towards the cooking area, visibly upset at a certain outburst of my father, which was very unlike him. But of course, Elizabeth was sacred for him. His firstborn and my Elder Sister. Father left for his room with thick melancholy suspended above him. Each of our nights was long and battered by loss. I could feel the spirit of Elizabeth inside me running down my spine to my dick to give me a boner. Her spirit never seems to leave me, her raper and killer. And her body will never leave the cave, her eternal dwelling.
© Su_tshant
