09/29/2021 11:40 AM  First Impressions.   Here and now is graced with the thunderous entry. Realize a cosmic kerfuffle and feathery flaunt and ferocity. The nigh-black flesh-tearing cyclonic mass aches to blast and it does! 'Boom!' goes the dame o' might! Krakatoa lends a nigh-almighty voice for this ear-splitting explosive spectacle! The acrid air crackles, daring to break from this barbaric growling choir song of the illest to last more than ten seconds! Painted thoroughly into this pitiful present—unworthy of the Unkind this pathetic place, she comes to be, if it is even a she. Thick feathers of raven and soot embracing neck to elbows to shins. Ribbed layers of straw, leather and dried bone for gauntlets concealing competent agents that have committed countless cruelties. Worn black boots that may have been long pillaged to from some dismal grave in a time before wireless contact through copper and brass instruments are made veiling the pair are used to trek long winding and even uncharted roads of earth, water, air, flesh, bones, and the vast darkness. Beneath a pointy black hat, a large long-beaked mask of aged ivory lovingly tainted by dried blood—spots and smears—is a proper fit. It is cuddling well the malignant mug of a roaming disaster so beyond warped in mortal comprehension, the cosmos itself actually provides the ominous one a fancy facade to censor the foul one. A pair of slim oval pits where the eyes would be are lifeless. Truly, there is no need for actual gaze when reality can be perceived in more ways than several. It is as everything that she is to be made sense of even if just the slightest a worthless physical shell. Throw all with petty perception a little bone, for their silly sake. Hum merrily a guttural serenade of a steel-throated crocodile if one is the size of a mountain. Nations of good folks would tremble at the faintest whisper of this enduring sigh of unholy terror. Damn all that is good and just for being so incompetent of what blockade they could have forged to stop her re-entry. The Mistake has been fashioned a form in creation once more, formerly swimming through the gnawing gurgling gargantuan gallery of the verily-vicious Void where petty life is nil a will at even the most fleeting of feathery feel. Delight the return to tantalizing tangibility. Live life again, Monster of the Old Domains. One of many, to the chagrin of this new metacosmic metropolis. Then comes curiosity. Sweet, sweet curiosity. It sings to her sinister senses. The itch to tell her that solitude is broken so soon. Company is quite near, whether she will then give a smile or a sneer. Slowly turn that beaked ivory she does. Raise a hand to start a gesture. Tickle the air with a claw-like fingered glove now bearing much less of that shadowy showmanship from more than ten seconds prior. Little limbs strum that the air itself play the melody of this malice of a mistress in a mask. For the mortal ears, the callous creak simply chirps, “H e l l o ~.” 🖤     0 Comments

09/28/2021 05:48 PM  O v e r t u r e .   Forward goes a left foot in ugly black leather. At its descent, pressure per angstrom of ridiculous proportions is imminent to make a mess. C r a c k ! The ground beneath is torn asunder! Apart from the surprise crater wide and deep enough to fit a town in, large chunks of earth are displaced; some take flight! The grand hall of breath on this wasteland under a lovely blue summer sky is rattled something vile and fierce! What madness of a burden accompanied a mere step?! There in the heart of the crater she stands in a hunch, humming a long ear-clawing guttural melody of a predator so delighted and ready for the onslaught. It is proud enough to challenge the tenor of the tremors she instigated with her whispered stomp. Garbed in dust, soot and raven feathers, neck to heel, this lone biped is summoning a legion into this fine foul hour. No, not summoning, she is inscribing an astral edict of attendance for this formless horde that could melt body and fray minds should such an indescribable stampede traipse without care through so petty a being as a mere mortal flesh and consideration. From beneath the long-beaked ivory bone mask that tilts to face the beautiful blue canvas, she issues a horribly mighty roar! An eldritch aria perverts tens of miles of air so powerful that it could lacerate poor ears and skin itself should the corrosive notes lick the flesh! Hell, the ground itself is bubbling by sudden unseen swift carvings being done to it spanning a few miles, an influence of this unholy song. Dirt is rising as a great crowd of smoke. In this earthly blanket, arms raise in concave gestures to her side; long sleeves of the same odd thread are also embracing them. Hands in straw, leather and dried bone gradually curl but enough to stay the form of fist, still revealing a bit of both curved palms. The stiffness of each bent finger is intense, nearly trembling both agents of dark deeds beyond count! Through this perilous mega-drama of earth, air, voice and flesh, she is blissfully violating the laws of nature. Pillage countless priceless riches: cosmic powers from stars and nebulas near and far! Be within this vicinity too tiny for such an astronomical army of intense pressurized energy to just sit in. The stampede cometh. But what is the purpose of all this hysteria both so heavenly and hellish to pull power worth of a million competent gods, goddesses and hellspawns? What is this monster so eager to accomplish with these devastating theatrics?   A  r  t  . And this is merely... a prologue. The overture.     0 Comments

09/28/2021 02:01 PM  ~Emote Rating Legend.~ How I rate the writing of others as a minimalist:  -- I adore how good your writing is.  -- Your writing is at a caliber that my brain cells demand I humbly bow before its grandeur. 💔 -- Heartstrings in this writer have been genuinely plucked by the contents of your writing. -- If each emote is doubled or more, it means the feeling and rating are compounded.   0 Comments

09/28/2021 01:59 PM  ~Musing: What I Would Like To Do.~ Hmmm. An inquiry, though not presented as a question in its grammatical presentation, was posed upon me. Frankly, it is simple but highly reasonable to pose upon me; get a better understanding of what I would like out of my time writing as this character. I reckoned that I would share with you the bulk of the answer I provided, excluding the nuanced bit specifically for that potential co-author. I have been asked what it is I like in doing. Well, in the context of this hobby, as this character, I would say it comes down to this, accounting to the notion that I could have made it briefer, surely.   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~ I desire to write tales that will upset an upstanding citizen. Tales in which tragedies by happenstance or by something deviously designed within the supervision and influence of a certain calculated entity or even several are played out. Tales that could or should remind a reader that life is not all sunshine and rainbows, that it can be apathetic, cruel and downright unfair. Tales in which my despicable damsel can also do her potent part to thoroughly spread the love... of a superbly wicked being. Bring to scribbled ink mature stories that are lusciously vile enough to fit the devilish dame I write as. Paint the mural of life and experience with decisions and actions stellarly suitable to reprise and nurture her role as one of God's mistakes roaming the cosmos.   ~   ~   ~   ~   ~ May this prattling prove useful to what plot idea or two may you approach me with, should the time come that the silence is finally broken and we nurture well the goal of why you and I are acquainted in the first place. Much love, The author behind the Mistress Monster   0 Comments

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