Red's CD Project Story 2: Part 5 – Noce

Note: I'm going to let this part speak for itself.

Disc 1
Track 5: No You Girls – Franz Ferdinand

“Oh how the girl feels.”

“Noce is a day’s walk from my tower. I tore away the sleeves of my robe taking one to wrap around my forehead and the other on my mangled hand. The blood had stopped flowing by the time I awoke. The wounds were almost like brands the cattle herders use to mark their livestock, seared and black. Yet the wind and the sand nicked and gnawed away the open sores and peaking bone. I had to cover them. There was also the streaks of black and green, poison no doubt, starting to appear along my veins near my hand and no doubt on my face. I could not bear to watch the poison slowly eat its way to my heart, my brain or whatever part of my body it most desired to consume.

“I arrived delirious in Noce under the cover of a night sky where clouds blotted out Old Moon’s face and New Moon’s curve was nothing more than a wavy blue apparition. No men were posted on the outer walls, but I feared I saw glowing eyes blinking in the shadows of the sentry towers. Yet no alarm sounded as I entered the iron gates that served as the main entrance to the huge sandstone city. One of the gates was sagging badly on its hinge digging into the stone street.

“The city streets were dead, the all-night market closed, the taverns empty. Every corner where one would expect to find life no matter the time of the day was silent, desolate. All there was was sand, and, of course, the occasional corpse dried and hollow eyed. On the wind there were moans carried from the great coliseum where men of the watch are tested against each other, against beasts, against themselves to prove their worth. Atop the coliseum, the twenty-four pyres of Tarak Grandar were lit spewing forth ugly red flames and black smoke into the night sky. The pyres were there to celebrate the casting of Salama into the sand once a year. That night they were welcoming the evil back to the world.

“Behind me, I heard the slapping of bare heals on the stone streets and I sank back into a shadow. Sprinting down the middle of the street, a girl, probably just getting to the age where she put away dolls, but well before her parents would have started arranging a marriage, came with wild steps. Her thin legs looked about ready to topple, her common dress was torn and tattered. Her feet, I saw them well enough as she strode pass, were cut and bruised. She’d been running for a day I believe. She was a girl from an outer village, probably a farmer’s daughter, pulled to the city by an urge, which I had not yet fully realized.

“When the girl had passed, I continued on toward the coliseum not sure what sort of scene lay ahead of me, but sure that the minutes of my life were numbered down.

“The coliseum is a great ring, my boy, with outer walls that reach high into the sky, but there are many ways into and onto the great building without going into the great entrances that lead to the spectators’ seating. For instance, there’s a hidden ladder along the east wall that leads up to the pyres. That’s where I made my way. I counted on that whoever lit the pyres had dropped back down after the task.

“From high above, I was witness to the whole grotesque show. Below a black throne was cast a top a pile of bones. To the side were twelve smaller thrones where men, at least I think they were men, sat with dark hoods covering, if the tales be true, faces burned and painted since childbirth. On the great throne in the middle, the demon sat. Around him was a mass grave of men, but not all of them were dead. Many were alive, screaming and gurgling and calling out in agony. From high above, I could see things crawling among the bodies, but at that point my eye did not want to believe the horror.

“Leading to the throne was a line of women. Every woman in and near the city without the will power to fall upon a sword or cut her wrists was in the line that led to the spectators seating and wrapped around and around the coliseum. I believe I saw the girl from the street at the end of the line.

“The womam at the front of the line, I recognized well enough. Her gray hair hung at curls to her side. I could recall how her callused hands rested upon my chest night after night when I was not stationed on the tower. She was my wife. Behind her my son’s wife who had failed in a birth not more than a season earlier, stood.

“My wife, Quinta her name be, came before the throne swooning like a girl in the spring of her life instead of the fall. See my boy, the women don’t see the disgusting, ashen man that we see. Nay, I believe they see the epitome of man before them. They’re drawn to him like calves to the pasture. Quinta bowed before him and he stood up and disrobed. To my eyes, his body was scarred and sagging with blotches of red showing through his dark skin.

“She dropped to her back, legs spread open. The demon came to her then tearing away her clothes with his four hands, not caring if bits of flesh were clawed away as well. He fouled her then in great heaping thrusts that must have split and tore apart her insides. He licked down her neck (a forked-tongue now part of his being) leaving a black burn mark. His ripped at her breasts with long, sharp nails, pulled away at her hair and bit into her flesh. All the while, thrusting and pumping with no care for her pain. But she did not wail. Instead, she responded with moans of pleasure, but her eyes showed her terror, her agony. She didn’t want it, but couldn’t help herself, couldn’t resist. The other women in line watched jealous, greedy for their turn, a turn soon enough to come.

“It ended as such acts do with him casting her aside like a child discarding an old toy. Her pain wasn’t over. Nay, the worst was to come. As the demon moved onto another of my kin, a great round belly started to form on my long barren wife. She was pregnant, but the pace of growth was unnatural. Within moments, she was to full term. Then one of the robed men arose, came to her and spread her legs out. I could hear her scream and wretch. I was there for our son’s birth and the pain sounded a thousand times worse.

“I couldn’t see it all, thank heavens, from my vantage, but I saw enough. What came from her was not human. It was all legs and claws, black and red with a great gap where two rows of small sharp teeth glistened. When the birthing was over, the robed man took the offspring over to the pile of men and released it. The little beast jumped from the hands of its momentary captor to the neck of a man not yet dead and began to feed. Great streaks of blood shot out and one final wail came from the poor man.

“I vomited and my knees gave out. I couldn’t bear to watch it. The women were slaves to this demon, his own personal harem to breed an army of monsters. The worst of it, my Quinta, blood-soaked and ravaged arose after the birth bowed to her new master and started hobbling toward the back of the line. She would go through it again and again till her womb was too used and tired then she’d be fed to her offspring. I doubt she lasted long at her age. But the young girls, like the one I saw running in the street, it chills me to think the number of beasts she’ll bare before she’s released from her terrible bond.

“I didn’t stay to watch anymore. As I said, I think the demon knew I’d come and see and wanted me to get away. He pleasured in pain and knew that my shame was a pain much greater than death.

“I ran boy with fear and shame in my heart. I ran with poison eating away at my arm and face. For weeks I ran, stopping only when I collapsed from my delirium. I recall little, thank heavens for that, until I hit the waters and heard the voices underneath. The waters froze the poison and drew it out. I can feel that now, but the shame, the fear are still there boy. I know he’ll be coming with a great army. I know the women here will soon start to feel his pull. A great evil is upon the world and part of me wishes very much you’d left me to die in the Belnor.

“While my honor bemoans me to correct this wrong, my will weakens. I hope, nay, I pray never to see that demon again. But I can see it in your eyes now that you won’t allow me that blessing. You’re the type to stand and fight. Maybe you’re curse will be our blessing. I doubt it very much, but a good man doesn’t back down. I can feel you’re a good man indeed, Oan Stoneheart.

“I’ll pray we’re victorious. I will, I will.”

With that his story ended as both moons returned to the underworld and the sky lightened in the east.