"You would go and bloody call me out when it's night out" Gordon spoke annoyed at his christian compatriate. "Well, let's take this show on the road then right after I have a go at this die." He threw at like he was playing craps, all the while praying he gets something that jogs his creativity. The die steadily rolled, ending its journey against Casey's foot, a 1 staring up at her. "You better have somethin decent fish n chips, I'm already bored with the rest of em." Parker and Mali peered at their own feet while Joe glared at her as if he were trying to dissolve her by sheer willpower. "I didn't mean that as an insult, Joe was it? You'll get it, maybe." Her last line rang in his head, the condescenion echoing throughout. Whatever, he thought to himself, I'll give her the best damn story she has ever heard by the time this trip is through.
They started on their expedition ,taking a bus towards Irvine. About halfway to their destination Gordon finished scribbling in his Captain America notebook, jumping in his seat to the surprise of his colleagues.
"Well, ladies n gents, you put me in a bit of a sore spot seeing as how I'm not a real big fan of the darker side of things, but I suppose I'll give it the old college try." Gordon tried to cover up his excitement with a helping of modesty, to no avail. "It's about damn time, we've been waiting for an hour for your silly ass to speak. Get on with it." Casey's words didn't even phase the affable European.
The year is 1438. The place is France. "My name is Jiselle and I am eight years old. Today I'm being sold to Gilles de Rais, a brother-in-arms to Joan of Arc, in order to pay off debts my parents owe. They tell me Messieur de Rais is an honorable man, and I've witnessed him praying every day at the monastary, but I don't like him very much. He took me by the hand, assuring my parents that I will be kept safe, fed well and educated with others my age. For some reason, I don't believe him. Messieur de Rais brought me to his large house, patted me on the head and told me if I worked hard, he would feed me and let me play outside. Every morning he had me clean his tools, peculiar tools that they were, looking more like the kind a butcher or a smith would use, not a knight. If I scrubbed them well, removing any of the dark stains that find their way on them every single night, I would get a tray of bread and meat. A day didn't go by where his tools were unclean. I developed a routine to get the bits and pieces off without exerting too much effort, so I would have plenty of energy to play. There were always other errands and such he would have me do, oftentimes encouraging me to speak to the locals to find out the latest news on their families. He said it was to get closer to the people. One day he simply tasked me with finding a local boy who had no direct family. It was hard what with all the wars being fought and illness at every turn. I found a boy my age named Jean begging for change by the market. I invited him over and we played for a bit. When Messieur de Rais arrived home, he immediately took a liking to Jean. I feared I was being replaced and he could see it. He patted my head telling me, i've no need to worry, he simply wanted to show Jean something. I waited and waited and waited until I fell asleep.
I awoke to Messieur de Rais tapping me on the head and handing me a brush. There was a long streak of blood from his work room, through the kitchen and to the back. He told me he had been hunting and wanted me to scrub it up before midday. I worked dilligently and managed to get it all done on time. He smiled at me, handing me a plate to eat. The meat tasted rather peculiar, but I paid it no mind, it filled my belly like any other.
This pattern went on for awhile, me inviting playmates over and Messieur de Rais taking a short lived interest in them. He would tell me that he found them homes in other cities, with friends of his and I really, truly wanted to believe him, I did, but I just couldn't. I would always have a task the next day, sometimes cleaning his messes, other times burying the pyres so they don't reignite, but always cleaning his tools. Then one day he hurt his hand in some kind of accident. It was wrapped in quite a bit of cloth and he couldn't fully use it. This was when I saw what he was really up to. He had me bring in my new friend Michel to his work room. There I saw what he was truly working on. All over the walls were inscriptions, some looked as if carved by bare finger, others done completely in blood. Before I could even scream, Messieur de Rais ran Michel through with a stilletto, using his good hand. As he pulled it out, Michel's blood decorated my dress and face with speckles. The Messieur wiped his brow with his injured hand and told me if I were to speak a whisper of this, my family was to be sentenced to torture and death at the hands of the church.
I had to avert my eyes at what came next. Messieur de Rais, took the boy, removing his pants and had him, right there, as if he were a woman. I could take no more and tried to escape, but the Messieur yelled at me, panting with each thrust. He told me I was needed for more work, work he could not do in his current condition. This is for God, he said. He was removing the sin from them. I couldn't believe him, but I had no choice but to help. He had me remove Michel's heart, a task I had no great pride in doing, and told me to place it on his mantle, a piece of furniture covered in carvings. He then proceeded to try to take a bite out of it. He couldn't maneveur himself accurately so I was forced to feed it to him like a child. I had to sit on his lap, carving up Michel's heart into edible sizes and place them on the Messieur's tongue. It was wretched.
This went on until his hand healed. Not always children either. Sometimes he would bring home madams, women my mother would tell me to stay away from. He would have his way with her, then have me stab her as they climaxed. He took great pride in the women, and as such I would have to preserve as much skin as I could for later use. He had a cellar for them specifically, that I was not to go into, unless he willed it.
I couldn't sleep. All of them haunted me, ghosts in my dreams and if not them, thoughts of damnation swarming my slumber. I sat awake, trying not to scream when Messieur walked into my room. His hand had healed and he was telling me how I had done such a good job and God would be proud. Then he told me I should meet God and he gave me those same eyes he gave everyone before me, and right then I knew it was time.
"No wonder it took you so damn long," Casey said eying the behavior of her fellow writers. Parker's face was priceless, bearing the signature mark of a horrified christian, a tender combination of outrage and terror. Joe smiled approvingly while Mila nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it normally isn't me thing, but I do what I do when I do it." His cockiness didn't go unnoticed.