Mastim's Curse

Chapter 1

Warring: Contains Graphic Sex and Violence. For Mature Audiences only.

The Book of Jubilees [Chapter 5]

1. And it came to pass when the children of men began to multiply on the face of the earth and daughters were born unto them, that the angels of God saw them on a certain year of this jubilee, that they were beautiful to look upon; and they took themselves wives of all whom they chose, and they bare unto them sons and daughters, and they were giants; and Prince Mastema made it known he would have the first woman, Lilith, as his wife because she was strong in sprit and possessed beauty above the rest.

2. And God looked upon the earth, and behold it was corrupt, and all flesh had corrupted its orders, and all that were upon the earth had wrought all manner of evil before His eyes.

3. And against the angels whom He had sent upon the earth, He was exceedingly wroth, and He gave commandment to root them out of all their dominion, and He bade us to bind them in the depths of the earth, and behold they are bound in the midst of them, and are (kept) separate.

4. And He said 'My spirit shall not always abide on man; for they also are flesh and their days shall be one hundred and twenty years', and he said to Prince Mastema that none of the angles of God, shall take Lilith as a wife for she has disobeyed God and so was cursed to bare demons, and such creatures should not have powers of the Nephilim because all would suffer greatly at their hands.

From The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament
by R.H. Charles, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1913
Scanned and Edited by Joshua Williams, Northwest Nazarene College (Modified)

***

Cigarette smoke is drawn out my window as the sun sets, adding to the spiced aroma emanating from the stores that line the crowded road. At the next traffic light, I try to pull my long hair out of my face. Black as night, it seems to have a mind of its own today, might be time for more relaxer. I hate that stuff, but it does help keep this mess under control. Maybe I should just braid it. The haggard face looking back at me in the mirror looks tired as I push the last stand of hair behind my ear. I need sleep, but the dreams have been bad lately... and so vivid. Often, a man darker than night comes to my dreams and talks to me. I wake up most nights in a cold sweat with my heart beating like a drum of war, memories of his words fading... They seem so important. I wish I could remember them.

I toss the spent cigarette out the window and light another. Already the shadows are slithering out of the cracks and crevices they hide in during the day to cover the city in darkness. As I look at the people along the street, the smiles and gentle laughter normally adorned during the day slowly transition into tight lips and weary glances.

The powerful engine of my Mustang purrs and urges me to go faster, but this dilapidated street isn't meant for speed. I'm on my way to pick up roasted duck as a favor for Jaidee, my dad's girlfriend. She's ok, so I do what I can for her. She's been doing a great job of looking after of Dad ever since he broke his ankle. I've told him, like, a thousand times to stop racing before he gets himself killed. He's stubborn though... won't admit his getting old.

Store owners can be seen pulling metal bars and gates across doors and locking them securely in place. They're doing what they can to keep out the local wildlife, the wildlife being gang members that roam this part of town. In a way, I feel sorry for the people who end up in those gangs. There're mostly discouraged kids who see no future they want a part of. It's like society has only one place for them, to be the dirt the wealthy tread on.

The coming night affects me too. It heightens my awareness much the same way it does for cats. My dad thinks he's being cute when he calls me a creature of the night. I hope he never finds out just how true that is. My body shutters at just the thought of him knowing about any of the horrific things I've done. I can't help it. Something is seriously, terribly wrong with me. Like my soul is older than the ground I walk on, and so dark that death itself would be afraid to touch it. At times, it seems to reach out for me. Calling... No... Daring me to embrace it as it's been doing all day. It's during these times terrible things happen. Maybe I should lock myself up when I feel like this, but I don't.