The Prayer
Hast thou prayed this evening? I would not kill thy unprepared spirit. Prepare in vain to thine idols of vanity, for thy
very breath shall be plucked from thee this eve. The holiest of waters shall consume thy rosy lips and engulf thy fair, delicate
breast with suffocating, liquid darkness. When at last thy life transgresses that blanched pallour, I, with the unholy grasp of
night overpowering the Reaper herself, shall retrieve thy tarnished, heretical soul into thy same gorgeously ephemoral corpse,
reanimating thy frail pulchritude, not that I may gaze again on the living beauty of thy vibrant face, Though I will not restrain
myself from doing so, but to re-enact thy moribund immolation, compounding the moment of death upon thy evil visage, to see
the horror of the harlot I killed twice.
Thou deservest ten thousands of deaths for all eternity, and I have prayed this evening that God grants such torture
upon thine abominable being. So pray, for I would not kill thy unprepared spirit.
