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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2000803-Our-Lady-of-Divine-Punishment
Rated: E · Fiction · Other · #2000803
A deviant interpretation of the Virgin Mary, and her not-so-merciful sole.
“Cursed are you above all livestock
and all wild animals!
You will crawl on your belly
and you will eat dust
all the days of your life.
And I will put enmity
between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and hers;
she will crush your head,
and you will strike her heel.” Genesis 3:15

http://maryvictrix.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/immaculate_conception_ca_1628.jpg...

A skull fixed to a spine, prostrate for eternity. The only glimpse of Her radiant beauty you will ever be privileged to see is Her unforgiving sole, as it presses the squirming, slithering life out of your serpentine skull. You are all that She despises, the very manifestation of sin. You are the vilest of creatures, cursed by biology to slide through the lowest troughs of existence. The dirt and refuse to which your gaze is ever transfixed is still cleaner than your hollowed coal pit of a soul; that gaping abyss from which all the world's evil was exhumed, the source of the corrupting energy that fueled the immolation of human innocence. And like all creatures of darkness, you are drawn to the light, like a moth to the flame. You are so enthralled by its alluring beauty, you would have no choice but to slither through all the world's pain and adversity just to see a glint of its luster. And She stands tall as the source of it all, a monolithic lighthouse from which all the brightness of the world is born, the ultimate antithesis to your depravity. As much as you venerate Her resplendent presence, She abhors your vile existence. For you are that which She and Her divine progeny were meant to eradicate. You are an abomination born to die beneath Her sacred soles, every ounce of evil pressed from your writhing form and back into the earth, back to the hell from which it came. As She takes your life, She allows mercy for all of mankind. Even as Her immaculate heel, blemished only by the blood that flows freely from your expiring body, crushes all of your pitiful ambitions and aspirations, vertebra by vertebra, Her smile glows with compassion and love. She knows that you revel in being slowly, softly squeezed out of existence by Her sensual soles. She knows that you take more pleasure in your death than in your entire miserable life. Your murder is merciful, a gift from a goddess, and she conducts it with grace and serenity, not troubled for a moment with the concept of ending your life. Your reptilian eyes will know no sight more beautiful than those toes, cruel only to you, accepting her full weight. As their color drains with the mounting pressure, you can only wait in eager anticipation for that same pulverizing weight to shift to the sole She has poised above your scaly head. As it descends, your world darkens under the shadow of her foot, and your puny, three-chambered heart pounds with expectation of its demise. Her perfect flesh is soft and smooth against your scaly skin, and it envelops your body as though you were dropped into a silk pocket, pressing lightly and warmly against your cold-blooded body in a moment more rapturous than any before, but oh so short, because the light pressure intensifies and soon becomes too much to bear, and the last vestige of your darkening consciousness is smothered from existence.










































































































































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