Post Crucifixion

Another story I wrote. It's inspired by Little red Riding Hood. I apologize if it offends some people.

Post Crucifixion

They are gone now. My people are gone. Pontius Pilate is gone. Judas is gone. Mary too is gone. I am alone, pierced onto this titanic cross. They believe me dead. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. I do not know. Frankly, I care not.

My blood covers my skin like a silken coat; a cape of crimson wine that sticks and dries upon my naked body and becoming one with me. My flesh bleeds and bleeds; holy bread now stale and rotten. My flesh and blood, bread and wine, feed the earth that yearns and yearns for more. Yet I have no more to give.

I pull my nailed wrists and crushed feet off the dark pine. I climb bloody down the crucifix, my nails clawing the wood to hold on. I drag my sanguine cape behind me as I crawl down the cross and onto the cold ground; leaving a trail of blood for the earth to drink to intoxication.

Drink up!

Drink, for my blood is holy wine!

And blood is life!

Thus saith the Lord!

My broken feet carry me to a dark forest. Where my blood sinks, there grow thorns of roses, wild and untamed; beautiful. Yet I continue to tread the wild paths before me.

Look there! Something a quivers!

A wolf, with fur as black as night; so warm and shielding, no cold could pierce it.

I'd gladly trade my bloody coat for a fur cape so warm. Does the beast realize that I yearn for its hide to blanket my bloody skin? Frankly, I care not.

It remains motionless before me; eyes upon mine. He stares at me; I stare at him. Is it guarding something forbidden, sinful? Like the serpent and its fruit? Frankly, I care not. All I want is to be warm; to survive this cold.

I lunge at it with every might I can muster; faster than an angels light. Self preservation always gives one might; praise the Lord!

My hands are both around its muscled neck. The fur tastes delicious in the wind, delicate and sweet. The fur against my bloody skin was a sensation so enlightening; the wonders of god's creation and might.

I twist the beast's neck before it could react or fight back. I twist its neck hard and swift; it must have felt painful. Frankly, I care not. It was a monster after all; a demon that probably consumed millions of helpless innocent children that were unfortunate enough to cross its path. I felt and heard the distinct crack beneath my hands. I felt no guilt. I felt satisfaction. I could have sworn my mouth curved into a smile.

God gives life. God takes it away.

With my nails I dug into its flesh then I rip its wondrous hide. I don it like some warrior trophy; a coat of victory and triumph. It was still bloody inside, where its skin had parted with its flesh; a cape of dark black fur above a red bloody cape upon my naked skin. It was warm like gods embrace; skin over blood over skin.

The skinless naked monster lies dead upon the ground; how disgusting it looks without its fur. My roses continue to spring forth from my blood; they threaten to gobble up the demon's corpse.

Do you hear that? Those tiny yelps.

I turn my head towards the sounds. Five little wolf cubs yelping for their dead mother; that bitch I murdered; no … Killed. The Monstrous beast I killed. How will they survive now without their maternal protection? Will the winter kill them? Frankly, I care not.

My feet continued their journey; leaving the crying lupine babes behind me and leaving my trail of wild demonic thorns of roses to possess everything it touches. Forwards I shall go, into the wilderness; then, and only then can I be reborn into my father's welcoming arms.