Unholy Mass

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Taken deep below, this virgin come of age.

To chasms deep and dark, amongst the stench of putrid flesh.

The markings, carved deep into dank walls, tell the story. Incantations of yore are they, now chanted by all.

The Followers, ever bowing, await The Time.

The drumming, ever pounding, signifies the wait is almost over. Hail Dark Priest! Ever spewing forth his blasphemous venom.

For he knows, oh how he knows!

The Book, rent of flesh, shall spew Them forth.

The Priest has read and he has seen Those who are to be summoned.

 The candles of deepest black choke her with their sulphurous fume, her lungs filled as she is lashed upon the altar.

Silence now descends as The Priest shrieks his final incantaion; all shudder at Its guttural roar! 

Beast Infernal; He Rises!

Now chained to the altar, she screams as Its Priests eyes drip venemous red, malevolence assured. 

A stinking black tongue penetrates Its new prize.

An eruption as purity is tasted.

The blade flashes down, visceral blood spurts as the womb is torn for the claiming.  

Honour Him!

Bow all ye mortals!

His will be done!


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