December 8th, 2010
10 minutes after 11 in the evening.

I feel her coming. I know when she is imminent. I can hear the footfalls, as she steps away from the pavement. I can smell her, wanting me, it’s on the very scent of her. I had learned, in recent years, if you can become the man she longs for, she is your creature.

I open the door just as her fist comes down, the awkward lack of connection throwing her off balance. I pull her inside, against me. Yes, this is what you came for. Not a word, for this creature, is my creature. Mine to command.


Sometime after,

Do you recall the previous seasons? I do, unerringly. By god, am I not daily confronted by this greatness, that I am? It is what I am, not by deed, but by very composition of being. Do you make this effort, on occasion, or do so continually, as I have done? For this is equally true of you, my dearest lover. Of all. All endowed with the god that shattered, just a shard of, as he lie down, met his final hour, and went to rest. “Gave up the ghost”, as the old stories said, with such gentle poetry. Leave the future of creation to the unions of human endeavor. “Love is creation,” perhaps she whispered, to the first few and, just as now, most forgot this, as days of hardship had lengthened, continually, until the end. Most, but not all.

I’ve got her now. She’s sealed the deal, and allowed me to entrance her. She lies down like the ancient muse must have, with limbs arrayed oddly, with a gorgeous invitation in her nudity, and relaxed posture. Her clothes echo her trail across the bed like a serpent’s newly shed skins. It is a cold blooded predator, when it chooses to be. It fascinates, intimidates, equally, intentionally.

Such is the plight of mortal men, to gaze on our lover with both longing and dread, but we had been her greatest effort to date in the old stories, the old, forgotten gods. Five days for everything else, but for us, a single day. It must have been a very long time, a very long day, indeed. I believe this mother must have reckoned also that, for most, memory is short, but life is very long.

I remember the fall as many lusting hours and the longing spans of seconds between them. I guess we both knew it would end, sooner or later. She had arrived with the intention of making an end of it, and failed, again. She knew this is how it would end, but came anyway, for she was my creature. I indulge in a child’s evil, inwardly.


These experiences are the only reason for anything, hope, courage, faith, as all others had paled in comparison, laughably so. I wonder if you know it is hard for me to talk about them, relate them so fully and earnestly. I do so for the overall reward is greatly promising. When it is within my power to do, know and retell these things, to do so invites judgment, to face the wrath that is many, rather than a single force of opposition.

Have I not continually issued a challenge, in so doing? I came to understand that in seeking to learn only from those I found companionable, it would have been far more fruitful to embrace my enemies. That we all should, for their anger allows them to breach barriers that reside in your kind silences. It is truly a reason to seek love, and to love one’s enemies.

It is well and truly an invitation, not by intention, but by the very nature of such disclosures, that I do make them unabashedly, and with the full realization that, most likely, we shall only reach a higher understanding through contentions, that manifest in whatever form. They must, inevitably, begin with some sort of provocation. Here is mine. This blank canvas which remains mine to command. As long as there is breath in my body, it shall be so.

I came to realize that your silences, in response to this, were no less my fault than your grace. I should have given more to my enemies, expected less from you, polite folk. You are not really so ugly as I had presumed. I should hope, that in response to this very forward and borderline distasteful sort of disclosure, that you will take something useful away from all this, only. I know this is possible, for I have experienced it.

It took some time, but I came to realize that your kindness was in your silences. There is much hurt in words, much misunderstanding. Your occasional thoughts had been no less evil than mine.


Remember the fall? We were 15 feet apart, staring at one another. You had said I was egocentric, just before the plunge. I thought about it, as you fell upon me, and my back hit the car.

It would mean so much to me if you would come over, just one time this winter, give me something warm to remember. If that’s all you’ve got left for me, save it till then, but if you come over, now, don’t tell me it’s over, because seeing you, I’ll know that you want to be here, with me. She assures me that we have things to talk about, soberly enough. She reminds me with a matronly asexuality that we’re going to smoke out, talk and then she has got to leave. I agree, and tell her that it’s up to her, as always. I can hear her exasperation, she wants to pin me down to some ridiculous verbal agreement that we both know, will go out the window, the moment we are near each other.

To kiss her slowly, it had been effortless, reach beneath the surface, where she was waiting for me, for my probing fingers, aching to expose her. I do not tell her that I love her, because I do not. I love sitting face to face, where my strong arms could force her hips to grind harder, where we can breathe hot breaths on each other. Your sweat pours down the side of my face. Mine soaks the pillow behind my head. This was fucking, friends, and to such carnal enlightenment, I tip my hat. This was total release, which was total insanity.

As agreed upon, this had not been the last time, for us. That came later. It seemed that a meeting of the minds was imminent, always imminent, that the promise of some revelation was in her next movement, in the very scent of her. The days came and went, and after several attempts, I made it easier for her. It was my right to, to toy with her so, for she was my creature. Mine, and mine to command.

A Child’s Evil
Daniel Christensen
Writing as
Daniel Shadow Loveless

Copyright © 2011 by Daniel Christensen

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Written by DanielChristensen (The Fire Elemental)
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