26th Julius mensis, 64CE

He was so sad. We could tell by the way he dragged his feet towards the cliff, his head hung low, and his face marred by suffering and agony. A strong man, well constructed, and quite handsome, he wasn't an ounce of those characteristics now. Instead, he was full of sorrow, a mere façade of who he once was. We knew this just by looking at him.

His shoulders heavily weighed upon, he seemed barely capable of carrying his own stance. His tunic filthy and worn, it looked like a rag rolled in soot, while his skin, bathed in the same ash, bore scorch marks on both his arms and legs. His hair was a tangled mess, and his beard did all it could in challenging the matted pelt for supremacy in being mangled. It was self evident that he'd given up on life. We pitied him as we followed.

He was going to end his existence, putting an end to the misery consuming him. The cliff was high enough to plummet to one's death, and no doubt he planned on crashing to the jagged rocks below, shattering his broken spirit forever. His spirit would then rise above the wreckage of his life, sparing him anymore grief. We decided to help him.

He first spotted us off to his far left. We were dressed in loose, sheer, fabric, and fashioned a ring between us by holding hands. Going around in a circle and laughing to our hearts' content, the evening breeze graced our luscious bodies in the pale moonlight. The four of us, a carousel of fluttering ivory, blues, and winter forms, we must have resembled spirits in the night. He was immediately mesmerized, and the thought of killing himself retreated to the farthest recesses of his mind. We wanted this, and so we made it happened.

He dared not approach us, our incantation was a song making clear we were not mere mortals. A bravado declaring our greatness and awe, though he kept his distance in adoration and servitude, we called upon it in seducing him.

"Te volo, velle nos. Et audi, audi nos. Estis, sunt nobis. Vita enim sunt," we chanted in chorus. "Vita enim sunt!"

Before his heart and breath granted him another moment of life, we were on him. Kissing him, touching him, filling him. He groaned from the sharp nibbles to his neck and chest. He rolled his hips from the fondling of his manhood. He kissed when met by succulent lips begging to be drunk. We tempted, he touched. He embraced, we consumed. Mortal desired, we granted.

Like an ocean to land, I crashed atop him. My first found placement in suffocating him, bucking as if a wild mare. And the sisters, his ecstacy blinded him to their focus on his wrists, their feeding nothing more than pure elation.

His death rode speedily towards us, galloping through the pitch in search of its rider. Its sound nothing short of Hades' Legion in full march. We the heralds, and they the summoned end.

"Diligunt usque ad mortem," I demanded.

Love till death.

My daughter's did well in adhering. And the man proved loyal abundant.

Death greeted me, and I offered up its passenger. No words but muttered breaths, life came to cease once more.

That was a good night…A good night, indeed.

Lilith's Journal ( A Tale Of The Fallen: Lilith Coming 2017)
© 2016 by Grace Charles

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