During 99 cent promotion. Eve's Confession of an affair with Satan! Her confession along with the demon Eco's horrific confessions:
Excerpt:
"He stood silhouetted in front of my window, this tall being gazing down at me. I began to cry for I was fearful lest he hurt me.
His voice was a soft whisper. “I will not hurt you, Eve.”
I asked him how it was he knew my name but he did not answer. Instead, he came toward me. I let him touch me, for I longed for comfort. His touch was gentle, too. I opened myself to him, I wept as I told him what had happened. He let me speak for the longest time before he whispered: “I have come to love you.”
There was something about his tone that made me pull away. “Who are you?” I asked, feeling ever more frightened.
His answer was to let me gaze upon his face. Lighting a candle, he held it close. You know how handsome he can look if he so chooses and that was how he looked.
“I am lord of the dark, god of all you secretly covet. I am he who rules the great dark depths of punishment and beyond!”
As I opened my mouth to scream he came upon me. Like a wind he rushed over me, touching every part of me. At first it was calming but then he hurt me—he hurt me so, Louis. I screamed but his mouth covered my lips to stifle those screams. Blackness came then and he carried me off so that I felt nothing for the longest time.
I woke broken and bleeding. I was still so child-like, yet I knew I had been ravished. And because I feared my father’s wrath, I washed and waited for his return. When he came back, he said nothing. And I said nothing and life went on like that, but for the dreaded times when Satan returned in the quiet of the night—to continue what he started.
The months passed and my father’s cruelty continued. When I finally turned sixteen, I left my father’s home, foolishly hoping Satan would not know where I went.
I survived as best I could. And because I felt myself damaged, I sold my body, freely and often. I did this in order to eat and have a place to lay my head.
Many times I would walk into a shop and see the same look in the shopkeeper’s eyes that I had seen in Satan’s. And I would wait whilst he locked the door and led me to the cellar.
I was taken in that way in innumerable places, by all sorts of men. Old young, handsome, ugly, flushed with sickness—trembling with excitement, stinking with sweat, begrimed by dirt, too.
However they were it didn’t matter, as long as I had some coins for my trouble. I used to lie back whilst being pummeled to the floor, thinking of where I was next bound.
I created little fancies in my head, plays if you will, of what I wished to have for myself. Often I dreamed I was a great lady, the mistress of a fine house. It helped, you see. It was a glimmer of hope for me.
But then, Satan returned one day. I recognized him at once. He washed me and clothed me and was actually kind to me. I still don’t know why that was. Could it be I thought that sometimes Satan is good? He had been after all an angel once, had he not?
I longed to see him after that. Well, I was so unused to kindness that I did, because he was far nicer than most of the horrible men I coupled with.
However, I didn’t see him for the longest time after that, until one day...
“I will always come to you, Eve. But never to hurt you—for I care for you and always will.”
I believed him, foolish girl that I was. Imagine believing the Great Deceiver?
But I will tell you this, Louis. I was by that time obsessed with him. An obsession that was to grow in intensity to the point where I am still obsessed with him. I am a slave to him and to the corrupt passion he inflames within me..."
which is priced at $3.99.
His voice was a soft whisper. “I will not hurt you, Eve.”
I asked him how it was he knew my name but he did not answer. Instead, he came toward me. I let him touch me, for I longed for comfort. His touch was gentle, too. I opened myself to him, I wept as I told him what had happened. He let me speak for the longest time before he whispered: “I have come to love you.”
There was something about his tone that made me pull away. “Who are you?” I asked, feeling ever more frightened.
His answer was to let me gaze upon his face. Lighting a candle, he held it close. You know how handsome he can look if he so chooses and that was how he looked.
“I am lord of the dark, god of all you secretly covet. I am he who rules the great dark depths of punishment and beyond!”
As I opened my mouth to scream he came upon me. Like a wind he rushed over me, touching every part of me. At first it was calming but then he hurt me—he hurt me so, Louis. I screamed but his mouth covered my lips to stifle those screams. Blackness came then and he carried me off so that I felt nothing for the longest time.
I woke broken and bleeding. I was still so child-like, yet I knew I had been ravished. And because I feared my father’s wrath, I washed and waited for his return. When he came back, he said nothing. And I said nothing and life went on like that, but for the dreaded times when Satan returned in the quiet of the night—to continue what he started.
The months passed and my father’s cruelty continued. When I finally turned sixteen, I left my father’s home, foolishly hoping Satan would not know where I went.
I survived as best I could. And because I felt myself damaged, I sold my body, freely and often. I did this in order to eat and have a place to lay my head.
Many times I would walk into a shop and see the same look in the shopkeeper’s eyes that I had seen in Satan’s. And I would wait whilst he locked the door and led me to the cellar.
I was taken in that way in innumerable places, by all sorts of men. Old young, handsome, ugly, flushed with sickness—trembling with excitement, stinking with sweat, begrimed by dirt, too.
However they were it didn’t matter, as long as I had some coins for my trouble. I used to lie back whilst being pummeled to the floor, thinking of where I was next bound.
I created little fancies in my head, plays if you will, of what I wished to have for myself. Often I dreamed I was a great lady, the mistress of a fine house. It helped, you see. It was a glimmer of hope for me.
But then, Satan returned one day. I recognized him at once. He washed me and clothed me and was actually kind to me. I still don’t know why that was. Could it be I thought that sometimes Satan is good? He had been after all an angel once, had he not?
I longed to see him after that. Well, I was so unused to kindness that I did, because he was far nicer than most of the horrible men I coupled with.
However, I didn’t see him for the longest time after that, until one day...
“I will always come to you, Eve. But never to hurt you—for I care for you and always will.”
I believed him, foolish girl that I was. Imagine believing the Great Deceiver?
But I will tell you this, Louis. I was by that time obsessed with him. An obsession that was to grow in intensity to the point where I am still obsessed with him. I am a slave to him and to the corrupt passion he inflames within me..."
Regular price, $2.99. Now 99 cents on promotion.
Each of the four novels sold singly
Each of the four novels sold singly
All 4 books in the series comprise the box set
92 Horror authors you need to read right now'
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books EXAMINER
.
"In the attempt to find the just measure of horror and terror, I came upon the writing of Carole Gill whose work revealed a whole new dimension to me. The figure of the Gothic child was there. Stoker's horror was there. Along with the romance! At the heart of her writing one stumbles upon a genuine search for that darkness we lost with the loss of Stoker."
~Dr. Margarita Georgieva ~ Gothic Readings in The Dark
Carole Gill -- the Blackstone Vampires series
~Charlotte Books EXAMINER
.
"In the attempt to find the just measure of horror and terror, I came upon the writing of Carole Gill whose work revealed a whole new dimension to me. The figure of the Gothic child was there. Stoker's horror was there. Along with the romance! At the heart of her writing one stumbles upon a genuine search for that darkness we lost with the loss of Stoker."
~Dr. Margarita Georgieva ~ Gothic Readings in The Dark
.
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