Me thinks Nero needs to reign Lavenia in.
The scent of burning wood assaulted my nose, the charred remains of one of Mother Nature’s gifts to the world lying in a hearth of stone with little golden pockets where the flame had not yet completely burned out. Candlelight danced over walls covered with heavy draperies the shadows reminding me of tiny devils out to play. And above me, I saw them, their bodies stretched taunt and their faces reflecting the pain of their demise as droplets of their essence filled the pool I lay in below.
My mind registered the scene, the fact that I now bathed in the blood of these innocent ones, strung up by their extremities their skin poked and prodded and slashed so that their organs hung from gashes playing peek a boo through the folds. Instead of horror invading my existence from the macabre sight, a laugh of pure psychological amusement escaped my parted lips at the pretty little things giving of themselves to my beauty regime. I pitied them, their beauty, which should have garnered them the attention of any viral male; instead it being the reason for their very punishment and their untimely deaths.