the boat house of sin

chapter one.

It was at the time of dusk after the world's beginning but not its end. A man strides through the street of dark, damp, brick; this was after his shift at the radio station, where his colour of which one's sweetness does appear. His walk not of slumber but one of pride. His way is to the marina where a boat house does lay.  He gages his sights upon it, when his arrival has completed… snapping his sights to the door, which he opens. As he enters the room of little light, his pupils dilate; as one of a dopamine addict in order to see. Carrying on his walk through the boat house, a cold blade brushes past his hair. This is one of many carving tools hanging from the ceiling, tied like the hangman's knot. Its use not of cattle but of the dark pleasures in such a misconstrued, judged, sick mind of thine own. He makes his path over to a wall with a long cloth stained with mildew on it. As his hand reaches up, grabbing the cloth with might to remove it, screams of a tormented man shudder from behind it. As the light of day covers his body with enough sight, it is visible that the man has nails hammered through his hands, like the so called saviour of our almighty Christ.

“Hello there” the man from the radio station says “it's good to see you again” .

The man does not reply with a word as his mouth is covered with a gag.

“Oh how rude of me, I forgot, where are my manners?  I didn't tell you last time, my name... Well, I am Alaston”he said. “You also asked why are you here and what do I want from you? Now my friend, I will explain to you exactly all your wonderings… Do you know of the Icianic satanists from the darker times?” Alaston waits for an answer. 

“Well I assume you don't! Oh, of course there's the gag. Sooooo... The Icianic satanists believed in a way of removing their so-called sin from their bodies, to be good people and not give into their devilish desires. They did this by purging the life of another; but… this is where it gets interesting. In order to remove their own sin, they would have to take the life of another sinner and keep in mind; I say sinner, I say this, because I know the bad things you have done. Looking at children, rapping women, killing women who are pregnant. You have committed some gruesome crimes my good fellow. And as the icianic’s believed I need to punish my sins by sacrificing your sin to releave the murder in my heart.” Alaston said with a dark tinted sparkle in his eye. “Oh and there's one special thing. I do all of this by drinking your blood, whilst torturing you to the most gruesome, scream torturing, Icianic way I can. Like you did to those poor POOR girls. I want you to know their pain.” Alaston chuckles vindictively.  “Because funny enough, your pain is my redemption and I thank you for that. You  should be grateful, as well as it being a form of punishment, it is also an accomplishment of great honour to sacrifice your life for a better cause.” Alaston said, without a sound of remorse in his voice. 

The man's cries get louder, as he hopes for someone to hear him. Which would be a miracle sent by God, if they did; but also a mistake sent by God, for what Alastons future has yet to come.

“ Yes! That's it, scream your pain, let your suffering become punishment for your sins” Alaston says aloud. Alaston slowly pulls the nails out of the man's hands, making it as painful as he can to savour the moment. He allows the man to drop to the floor. 

“Let's get this on your head shall we.” Alaston said, grabbing a cloth on the floor he had used in the past to clean his shoes from the victim's blood. He puts it over the man's face after grabbing a large jar full of water proceeding to water board the man not to death instead to unleash the human fear of dying; the same fear of punishment. As usual for Alaston the sound around him dimmers down to nothing. Like one without the curse of hearing. Instead a song plays; this song is vivaldi four seasons, spring. An iconic tune, not of Alastons usual darkness,  but of his own joy.

Alaston stops the man's suffocation and grabs a large fisherman's rope;  with his knee pinning the man down like a fly, post decomposition, staked at the heart by a thin, schotish dirk dagger. He entwines a strong noose for the man's throat. Quickly putting it on the man, he sets in place a golden chalice and a pipe to stick in the man's caged chamber of blood.  

“ Ah all set here we go.” 

Alaston throws the other end of the noose over a large beam on the ceiling. Hoisting the man up from the floors to the heavens like a ragdoll puppet.

Alaston pulls back his arm and throws his full force forwards. Aiming the pipe at the man's heart full of sin; from when he picked it from the spot it lay. Plunging it deep into the man's cage of rib bone he let it drain his blood from his body just enough for the chalice.

“Ah sweet salvation.” Alaston said peering into the chalice

“That's enough for me to drink.” Alaston then sliced the man's jugular, speeding up the death. The deluge of blood spatters across Alastons body covering him in the sinners warm, ungodly, cruor sanguine fluid. The man's face slowly fading from the life it once was, beginning to lack colour and clarity. His face  turns pale as snow. Until there is no more blood for rats or creatures that feed on human flesh like undead zombies to scavenge.

Alaston then bows “may the gods deem your sacrifice worthy.” He shouted before smashing his head on a beam opening up the skin on the top of his head.