Rosa: A Wangxian Reincarnation Story

Rosa 20: Hell On Earth.

Xue Yang was surprised when the doorbell rang. He was very busy at the moment, when he heard a thump outside and he peeped out to watch a UPS truck drive away. He called out over his shoulder, "Hey, hang in there Guy, Gotta see what just arrived!" He dragged the large, (and surprisingly light) box into the foyer and locked the door behind him.

Then he returned to his host, who, a few minutes before the UPS interruption, he had been binding tightly to a leather dining room chair with black duct tape. Guy had been naked since the day he had brought Xue Yang home because nothing reduced a man to a blubbering idiot easier than being stripped entirely then subjected to Xue Yang's whims. It was all he really would have needed to do to his most recent benefactor. But it had been years since he had indulged his proclivities for pain and humiliation, so he took a lot of time with the older man. Guy had begged to divulge every passcode he had had since his frat time in college, within an hour, but Xue kept him in a prolonged state of terror and agony for days before he accepted the offer. When Xue was satisfied that several of the codes worked, it sealed Guy's fate. He walked behind the sobbing man and slipped the heavy, clear, plastic bag over his head, then taped it around his neck. That was when UPS rang the bell.

After he pulled the box in from the porch. he walked to the bar and poured a couple of fingers of 30-year-old Macallan into a snifter, no water, no ice, and sat across from the desperate man, The sweat was pouring down the contorting red face. Eyes bulged, fixed on his killer, and they were pleading for a tiny, one tiny pinprick in the center of the stretched, concave plastic that completely sealed the bluing lips. Just a small, lifegiving trickle of blessed oxygen. The body began to twist and convulse and a stream of urine released, saturating the leather chair.

"Jesus, Guy. What a mess."

He cleaned it up by dragging the body, chair, and all, outside to an old well he had been shown on Guy's initial tour of the property. He slid the heavy wood lid aside, and, after much cursing and straining, lifted the chair, tipped it backward, and watched it fall headlong into the abyss. A satisfying splash was heard and the lid was shoved securely back into place. Not as easy as simply dumping bodies down the oubliette in his, and Lan XiChen's, tower. God, he missed those few days with that beautiful man! Guy had no backbone, no stamina, none of that male animal appeal. XiChen had been extra sweet.

He strode back in like he owned the place. In fact, he had forced Guy to sign it over with a quitclaim two days into the ordeal, weeping his sad little heart out as he scribbled his signature. A hot shower seemed to be in order and Xue Yang stood there a very long time, luxuriating as the hard spray hit his muscles. The body, this time, was strong, powerful, and perfect. He stayed for a very long time, soaping and rinsing, then added a palmful of oil and began to jerk off, slowly. Beginning with the look on Guy's terror-stricken face. Then recalling XinCheng's reaction after killing his soul-mate. He spent a long time with memories of XiChen and then finished himself off thinking of a pair of molten copper eyes.

He was relaxed as he toweled off and wrapped himself in a white robe. As soon as he spent a little while opening that box (he loved surprises) another drink and beddy-bye time would be next on the agenda. H was exhausted, after all of the work the last several days. He needed to learn to slow down and treat himself better. After all, nobody else would! Ah, these inane 22nd Century platitudes! Nobody wrote good ones anymore, just trash worthy of gracing greeting cards or stupid memes. Who would have dreamt that the future would be so void of originality and creativity? Was he the only one who could think outside of the box anymore?

Ahhhh. The box!

He carefully cut it open and stared down at the contents. What the hell was this shit and what was he supposed to do with it?

The entire bottom was covered in a florist sponge, green and porous and very damp with water. Stuck in it were branches with green leaves. Did old Guy plan on starting a garden? On the inside wall was an envelope so he sat back and opened it.

"Hey! Here are the cocoons I promised. Don't hold your breath, they are delicate but if any survived they will hatch about a week after you received them These Attacus Atlas are gorgeous so I hope you have some luck."

Tucked inside was a photo and Xue Yang sat still, struck dumb at a picture of the biggest moth he had ever seen. It covered the entire palm of a man's extremely large hand. The wings ranged from dark brown and reddish-brown with small hints of green and pink as well. And the body was copper, reddish, golden and shimmering. Yenay. His Halo. he knelt before the cardboard box and found four grey, papery cocoons anchored to the branches. Inside was a touch of his Angel. The one who had escaped him twice. He reached out ever so gently and touched the first cocoon in his reach He stroked it lovingly.

There would be no sleep for him tonight. H logged on to Guy's computer and brought up the man's search history as fast as he could. He needed to learn how to care for these living jewel boxes. At least one must survive, thrive, and bring him closer to his prey, even for the short lifetime granted by nature. He would nurture it as it rested within, watch it emerge. Take loving care of it, and then crush it when the time was right. Just a small, little taste of what would come Halo's way someday.

Anyone who dared to doubt the gods was an idiot. Just as he had disposed of one toy, they graciously placed another life in his hands. Granted, he knew his gods well. While they took joy in what he wreaked on innocents, they thrived even more on the punishments they would one day mete out to him, watching his own endless torment. Then they would pretend to believe that he was changed and send him forth once more, secretly hoping he would provide them with more entertainment.

Hell was the name of his last abode. His goal was to create a small, living one, wherever he went on earth.