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Eloise's Revenge: Unholy Terror
- Eloise's Revenge: Unholy Terror -
In the year 1767 A.D. , there was a series of scandals that happened in regard to a group of men who were supposedly men of God, men sworn to celibacy and oaths of faith not uncommon to the order of Benedictine monks that they were members of. Though they had been sincere in their devotion to their faith, fate was determined not to allow them to keep to it after all. It began during the arrival at the gate of their monastery, which was located in a place that must not revealed for if it were given then surely the scandalous nature of the events that transpired there would put a blight on the place to this day... a certain middle aged woman who came to the monastery with her eight year old daughter seeking after some measure of sanctuary whilst fleeing from the home of her violent and abusive husband. Honestly, she was only seeking a temporary shelter at best until she could send word to her relatives who lived in the countryside several days distant from the monastery. She was common in her looks, whilst it must be said of her daughter that the child even at so young an age was most uncommonly beautiful. Dressed in the clothing of the common folk, it was shameful that so drab a style of dress should serve to lessen the beauty of such a child, but so it was! For her mother was poor whilst her husband although wealthy had made her destitute whilst in a miserly fashion he kept all of his money for himself alone, to also at times waste on his mistress, a woman who was a notorious prostitute who worked the streets of Paris in earnest, which is where the odious man came by her. Deciding that destitution was intolerable since she was after all married to a man of no modest means... the poor mother had little recourse but to seek the assistance of her family. But it was late in the hour and she was fleeing with her daughter on foot and had been hastening on her way for most of the day by the time she spied the monastery in the distance. It was a choice to stay there for a time, or to take her chances on the road with no protection at her side. At least this way, a letter sent to her relatives by messenger and a period of waiting thereafter should it was hoped procure her their assistance... a place to live going forward, and people to come and escort her to her relatives' house. They were cousins of hers, incidentally, these particular relatives. But one of them had been like a sister to the woman! She owed her nothing, but would refuse her nothing. Outside, the night was dark and although the monastery rarely was called upon to observe the custom of taking in a person seeking sanctuary... on hearing this woman's tale, the brothers more than agreed it was good to honor her request. However, the head abbot of the monastery, a man named Gerard Veron, was of the mind to honor it but only if the woman in return agreed that whilst staying at the monastery she help out by working in the garden outside. She was agreeable to this, but on the singular condition that no one at all should bother her daughter during the time when she was working in the garden. The little girl was to stay in the guest room given to her and her mother to use, and she was to remain in the room and to not bother any of the brothers. And so, no one would have anything to complain about. After all, it was well known that certain children could be a handful to deal with at times, and this one had a great deal of energy and she was very outspoken for a girl her age. A fact that afforded her a spot of trouble in life. All these arrangements were seen to, and the following day saw the mother going out to the garden of the monastery to tend to the vegetables growing there. The monks did not help her with this task, for it was decided that with her to tend the garden they would have more time to get things done within the monastery itself. Meanwhile, the little girl... whose name was Ginette... was bored out of her mind. In fairness, she did have her favorite doll with her, but she was in a bare room little better than a cell, for in all point of fact a cell it was... and a doll could not afford her so much joy in such dull surroundings. At one point, the little girl was crying, and so loudly was she crying that one of the monks came to see what was troubling her. The man was middle-aged and before joining the order he had been known for being criminally inclined towards assaulting young women in ways that violated them basely. He had not so much as seen a woman or a girl since joining the brothers, and in his case it was a matter of so long as such things were out of his sight he could keep to a virtuous life, or to some semblance of one.
This monk with the troubled past, his name was Rainier Olivier. He walked into the guest room, and saw the beautiful little girl sitting on the bed, holding her doll and crying... and wearing her rather drab colored green dress. The girl had long, curly, pale blonde hair, bright blue eyes... and the most sweetly angelic features one could imagine. There was no grace of physical beauty that this child had not been gifted with, and even through her tears her beauty shone through. He tried to remember her last name... it was Lavigne... and he said to her in an inquisitive but polite manner: “Miss Lavigne... young miss... I do hope that all is well with you, and that those tears are not for any serious reason. Do not be afraid to tell me, if something is troubling you!” But the child remembered her mother's instructions, and said in reply: “Mother told me not to bother anyone here, so I am not supposed to talk to you. She said you're not supposed to talk to me either, or the other brothers will get mad at you.” He sat down upon the bed, put a friendly arm around her shoulders, and said to her in an almost fatherly, kindly tone of voice: “But they do not have to know I am here! Do they? You will not tell them, and I certainly will not. So, it can be just our little secret, my being here. You look like you could use some company! Am I correct about that?” Still crying a little, but finding the tears beginning to subside, Ginette said to the monk: “Well... if neither of us will get into any trouble, then sure. But you can't tell Mother about this or she'll say that I was bothering you. Oh, promise, promise not to tell her either!” The monk smiled, and he said to her still in a kindly tone: “I vow to God almighty that what passes in this cell, between us, shall remain only known to you and I, and to no one else who is living.” Then, he began to caress her body with his hands through the fabric of her dress. He touched her chest, touched her thighs, and he began to touch her in places he should not have. She gasped, and set her doll aside as she asked him: “Why are you touching me and rubbing me like this? It feels...” and the monk leaned in close and whispered into her ear with an excited hiss: “Good? I am certain it does, little miss. Grown women enjoy being touched in all these ways, and they enjoy other things also. Things I would very much delight in showing you! Consider it a game, and we can play it together just the two of us. I touch you, and then I will tell you how I want for you to touch me.” The girl, believing it was just game, said innocently: “Oh, alright! If it is only a game then I'll be happy to play along.” Then the monk rubbed the little girl, rhythmically and gently, between her legs, sliding his hand up the skirts of her dress and reaching after that into her undergarments to feel the virgin cleft of her femininity. He did not finger it, lest he accidentally deprive her of her virginity by such a means. He intended to do that with the hardening shaft of his manhood, which had not gotten so erect as it was becoming now... in a very, very long time. For it felt like a lifetime since he had such fun and enjoyable sport with someone of the female persuasion. “Why do you like touching me so much in that place?” she asked him, and he licked the side of her face in an animal-like way that betrayed fully his lust for her. Then, he stated: “Because it is where women and girls can feel the most pleasure, it is a shame your mother or father never saw fit to teach you that. But I can show you how to enjoy this! Only however, if you agree to touch me between my legs where I feel the greatest pleasure. Agreed?” And so naive and young as she was, and knowing nothing at all of sexual intercourse between men and women, she said meekly: “Pleasure? I'd like to feel good... I've been crying so much... and pleasure is happiness after all, the words have similar meanings. So I'll do what you tell me.” And she reached her hand to the place where the monk was pointing... there was something hard there, between the monk's legs, and as she touched it, it became harder. The monk guided her hand as she caressed it, showed her just how to do this, and how to rub it, so it would excite him. As she stroked his cock, in this way, he realized that he could take it no more, thus he pushed the little girl unto her back and pulled her skirts up until they were at her waist. He tore her undergarments off of her, tearing and ripping them in the process, and as soon as this was done he spread her legs and pushed his cock into her virgin cunt with such ferocity that her virginity was taken from her within the first several thrusts of his manhood, the blood of it proof of the deed. She cried out from the pain of this, and felt him moving in and out of her. She was in shock!
Between the tearing sensations and the mixture of pain and pleasure that made no sense to the child, she could not comprehend how this was supposed to simply feel good. She begged the monk to stop, to get off of her, but he refused and so he kept on with her defilement until she felt something warm, wet, and sticky shoot out of his cock and seeming to fill her up inside. He continued to move in and out of her just as he had been doing, until this fluid... this hot warmth... had finished flowing into her. Then, he kissed her mouth and inserted his tongue into it, past her lips, in the sort of kiss only lovers share. After that, he licked her face again and rained smaller kisses all over her face. He tore her dress open in the front, felt her chest and licked her nipples. She was flat chested as any child of eight years old is, but this only aroused the monk more since children were his preference. Once he finished enjoying her in this way, he pulled his cock out of her... got off the bed... and got to his feet. He smiled, this time in a way that was no longer kind but cruel, and cautioned Ginette in a menacing way: “Remember, tell no one what passed between us just now! Tell no one I was even here... or they will blame you and say that you bothered me and drove me to do what I have just done to you. We will both be in trouble then! And they will throw you and your mother out.” She was crying again... the pain she was still in made it that she could not stop crying... but she tried her best to stifle the tears as she nodded her head in agreement. Then, she reached for the towel and washbasin under the bed so she could clean herself up and get rid of the blood... and other fluids... that were all over her thighs and between her legs. She felt dirty, and it was in a way she could not understand the why of. All she knew, was that people would be angry with her if they knew about all of this. So she cleaned herself well, and put on one of the four spare dresses that her mother had packed and brought with them for their journey, putting on new undergarments just prior to doing so. The room had a peculiar odor to it now, but there was nothing to be done about that. She hid the torn dress and ruined undergarments under the bed, and waited patiently for the mother to arrive, which would be several hours from now. She hugged her doll, and wondered why she felt so sad.
Her tasks in the garden done, her mother walked into the guest room and smiled as she asked how her daughter was feeling. The child began to cry again, and her mother asked her what was the matter. But all the little girl would say was: “I cannot tell you! I promised I wouldn't make any trouble.” And such a choice of wording made her mother realize she had done something after all. “Whatever did you do, my little one?” her mother asked, and the little girl told her only: “I played a game, and it was not my idea to play it... I was told it would make me feel happy. But it hurt, and it felt... I can't put it into words. So now... now I am in pain and I can't stop crying.” That was when her mother noticed the odor that was in the room... a foul mixture of blood and the all too familiar scent of a man's seed having been spilled in some fashion. Fear gripped the woman's heart, and she asked little Ginette: “I need you to be as honest with me as you can, right now. Whose idea was this game? Tell me! I have to know. Also... where is it, that you are hurting?” The little girl pointed to between her legs, just where her mother feared she was going to, as she said to her mother: “It was... alright, I'll be honest... it was Brother Olivier. Rainier! He came into my room because he had heard me crying and I was too loud, and then he said we were going to play a game to cheer me up. I was bored, feeling sad, and missing you... but he did things to me. He touched me, made me touch him also, and then he put his... the hard thing he had between his legs, he put it between mine, put it up inside of me and it hurt when he did that. Something came out of it and it was hot and sticky, and some of it got on my thighs when he took the hard thing out of me. He ripped my dress, he ripped my undergarments too, and I had to change my clothes and clean myself after all of that so no one would know. He told me not to tell anyone, said the monks would throw us out if they found out about it. The clothes I was wearing that got ruined... I put them under the bed, with the cloth and washbasin. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to do anything bad.” Her mother found the clothes, the washbasin, and on the cloth in the basin there was blood and some of Rainier's seed upon it.
Checking her daughter's virginity was the woman's next priority... and as she expected she found that indeed the little girl had been completely defiled. The girl was bleeding much less than before, but still there was some light blood coming out. The child would heal, of course... but never had she heard of a man taking the virginity of a girl so young. She intended to tell the head abbot right away, but this time she planned to bring her daughter with her so nothing further could befall her whilst her mother was off doing this or that. They hurried to the abbot's chambers, and told the old man what had happened. But, this did not go as expected! Gerard said in an irritated tone of voice: “This is a serious accusation, and against a brother who is deep in his penance for his past misdeeds. I demand to see proof of this before taking any action!” So... the mother agreed to show the head abbot the evidence that was still under the bed in the guest room, and he accompanied them to the room in order to see it. However, by the time it was that they got back there... someone had clearly removed the clothes, washbasin and cloth and just as swiftly replaced the washbasin and cloth with fresh ones. Clean water was in the basin, and the cloth next to it was pristine and untouched. “I fail to see any evidence of the actions you claim took place... it is clear, that something has upset you and your child, but without examining the girl myself in order to ascertain the loss of her virginity I cannot know whether you are bringing false witness against Brother Olivier or not.” And so the angry mother allowed the old man... with her watching to make certain that no wrongdoing was taking place... to examine her child between the girl's legs. He found, much to his horror, that indeed the little girl had just lost her virginity and very clearly it was done in a violent way. Ginette dressed herself once again as head abbot said in a gravely serious tone: “I.. apologize for having doubted your word, good woman. Brother Olivier must have returned to the scene of his crime and thus taken the evidence and gotten rid of it, hoping I would not believe you if you told me what he had done. But now... I must act against him, and the only thing I can lawfully do is to expel him form this order. It would be up to you, to go to the law after that and see to it that legal action was taken against this man. If they come to ask me what I have seen, I could then vouch for you and that would be enough for them to verify your claims against that wretched fellow.” It was precious little, for the woman had in mind a far more violent variety of justice... but it would have to do. She said to him sadly: “I suppose if that is all that can be done, it will have to suffice.” And the mother and daughter returned to the guest room as the head abbot called for Brother Olivier to be brought before him. But the monks he ordered to do this deed never returned once he sent them forth with his instructions. And he waited for many long hours... but no word came back to him, and the guilty monk was not brought before him either. This was not at all to his liking, for he was a man used to being obeyed... and he went to inquire in person as to what it was that had transpired regarding the monks he sent to fetch Brother Olivier. It appeared as if all of the monastery was empty, and no one was about their chores and tasks. The hour was late afternoon by the look of it, and this emptiness was something he had never witnessed in this holy place before. He made a thorough search of each and every room, chamber, and hallway. Every corner was looked into, but no one was present. He realized the only place left to search was the cellar, and if the brothers were not to be found there... they had clearly all left the monastery, which would be beyond strange. Sure enough, as he fetched a lamp and went down the stairs into the cellar he discovered every single monk who did live and work at the monastery was present there in that dark place. They were having some sort of a meeting or conference among one another, and Brother Olivier was in the midst of it. “What in God's blessed name is going on here?” the head abbot asked the brothers, making no secret of his having thus discovered them. And Brother Olivier said in a cold tone of voice: “Hello there... so good of you to be of a mind to stop by and check on us. Concerned for our well being, perhaps? Or for our souls, not any doubt about that! Well... we are perfectly fine, so no need for any worry. Go away, and leave us to our discussions.” The head abbot was not used to such defiance, and so Gerard said to the wicked monk as was before him: “Go away? I am your superior in our order, and I demand to know what is going on!”
Brother Olivier was a predatory looking man with a hawkish face and a somewhat unkempt beard. He had black hair, cold blue eyes, and a somewhat cadaverous look to him. He looked every bit as sinister as the criminal he was... and even in his choice to totally shave his head instead of taking on the tonsure that the other brothers had, seemed to the head abbot to have been a warning sign that should not have been ignored for so long. The rogue brother said to his superior angrily: “You demand! I have had a bit of a talk with my fellow brothers... and we have decided that we are no longer listening to you at all. In fact... we intend to end your miserable life, and after that we are going to have our way with the woman whose daughter I have already claimed the virtue of. Following that... whatever we desire to do, we will do. And God no longer governs our actions or thoughts... so, do not try and say that we will be punished by God for our actions. Because henceforth... we are the ones who will deliver the punishments!” After this was said, the brothers laid hands upon the head abbot whilst Brother Olivier took a hammer to the old man's head, caving in his skull with it in a gruesomely bloody display of ferocity. The head abbot's body was hidden in a remote chamber in the cellar and left for the rats that frequented it to devour. As soon as Gerard was thus disposed of, the monks rushed forth to the guest room and carried the woman and her daughter to the holiest worship chamber in the entire monastery. There, they took turns raping the woman in brutal fashion, defiling her in every imaginable and possible way before the eyes of her daughter. Brother Olivier did not participate in the woman's ravishment, preferring to sit upon a chair in the chamber whilst holding the little girl firmly upon his lap. He whispered obscenities into her ear as he bade her to watch whilst her mother was used and abused worse than a common whore. “Don't you worry, my little slut...” he said to the child, adding: “Don't you fear... I will not take you again until you have had a chance to recover from our last game. But rest assured! Once you are fully recovered, I will rape you even more vigorously than I did before. And as per my arrangement with my fellow brothers... they get to keep your mother whilst I get to keep you all to myself. The best part about our little game is this, child... the more we play it, the less it will bring you pain and the more it will feel good! I know, it may not seem that way right now... but it is a fact of life and nature, and nothing could be more normal than to enjoy the carnal pleasures that we have for so long been denied in this place. And which, in her miserly fashion, your mother would have you not partake in until you were too old to provide me with the sort of pleasures that I find most enjoyable to savor. I confess, I have a fondness for children and in truth to me you are more beautiful than any adult woman I have ever lain with! So, my little harlot... let us kiss, in between your mother's sufferings.” and he forced a lover's kiss upon her mouth whilst those shrill shrieks and screams of her mother failed to rouse in her rapists even an ounce of pity. They pulled her by the hair across the floor as she was passed from one man to another like a rag doll is passed with much violence between children who have no care for keeping it in good condition. And once all of the men had finished partaking of her however they pleased... they did a very horrible thing that was even repulsive to Brother Olivier's eyes. They tied the woman's hair to a rope, and flung the other end of the rope up and over one of the wooden beams in the rafters above, pulling it downward and hoisting the woman up off the floor, causing her to hang suspended by her hair and in unspeakable agony because of this. They affixed to the other end of the rope a weighted object and left the woman suspended in this way until the weight of her own body began to cause her scalp to tear. She was screaming during all of this, with her screams intensifying until her voice was hoarse. “For the Devil's sake, put her out of her misery if you must!” complained Brother Olivier, tiring of the screams and the various ghastly, hoarse, unintelligible noises that soon replaced those screams. “Also...” he added: “Be mindful, if you do kill the bitch you'll not have her as a plaything for later. After all, the little girl is mine and mine alone! As we agreed.” Suddenly remembering this, the brothers cut the woman's hair causing her to fall unto the floor in a crumpled heap of anguish. They then subjected her to a series of cruelties so inhuman that it seemed like the sort of thing that would happen only within the darkest pits of some demonic perdition.
They brought in a burning brazier and heated knives, along with surgical implements. With these, the brothers began to cut into the woman's flesh, and they skinned her alive until only the bloody muscle as lies beneath the skin remained. Sickeningly, the once more took turns raping her even though she was in this grotesque condition... so that each of the men who had his way with her became covered in her blood after having lay with her. She died during the course of this, and her hair was kept by one of the monks, whilst another kept her breasts and another some other relic of the horrors they had perpetrated. This was too much for Brother Olivier, who had left the monastery with the little girl at his side... and in due course the two of them fled the scene of all these unspeakable atrocities. He had a hidden fortune of the sort that no one knew about, which he had amassed during his crime spree of years ago, prior to his having joined the monastery with repentance on his mind. Knowing he would likely not stick to the monastic order for the rest of his life, he had always kept that fortune a secret, and told no one about the goodly sized house he had in the countryside of Lorraine either. He had friends as well as family half a day's walk or less than that if one kept up a quick pace... and more out in Lorraine. It was easy for him to get where he needed to go, and so it was that he and Ginette Lavigne made something of a relatively decent life for themselves. Having been disgusted by what he had witnessed the brothers do to the girl's mother in the monastery, Rainier Olivier saw it as his obligation to treat the girl right... right as he had defined it anyway. And she was his lover in every way until she was old enough for marriage. After she was of lawful marrying age, Rainier and Ginette got married and no one questioned why a wealthy and seemingly proper older man would be of a mind to marry such a vastly younger woman. Most assumed she was marrying him for his money, though in truth she came to love him with all her heart. They also assumed he was marrying her for her exquisitely beautiful looks... but he came to have far more than a mere lust for her, and his love for her was as great as hers was for him. Ginette had several children by Rainier... and the couple raised them with decency and respect, as they grew up wanting for nothing. In a way... had he had amassed so much by nefarious means... he would not have been able to give Ginette the kind of life she deserved, nor would he have been able to spoil their children, which he loved to do.
Not long after the pair had fled the monastery, in goodly haste... they had left during the course of the wicked brothers flaying and raping once again the ill-fated woman who had been Ginette's mother... the act that as related previously had caused the victimized woman's death. Once the woman was dead and the grisly spoils of her demise were divided among those who had so brutally and monstrously slain her in so bloody a fashion... the men realized there was no longer any vent for their demented urges. Also... they realized that the man who had convinced them to vent those urges had left the monastery with his young prize well in hand. That was just as well for them, since whilst he may have preferred children to grown women, they preferred adult woman by far. On top of that, they liked not that he had refused to participate in their sport with the child's mother, and figured eventually he would have become just as restrictive of a leader as the head abbot had been before him. Now both leaderless and directionless, it transpired that the men fell to fighting among themselves over what to do next. Some continued to go back and defile the dead woman's corpse... and they kept it for this disgusting variety of sport until the body began to rot, after which they no longer wanted the literally bloody thing. And so, they took it to the same chamber in the cellar where they had disposed of the head abbot, and let the rats do the work of consuming what was left of her already skinless and putrefying body. Following this, they began to kidnap women from several neighboring villages until the law finally took notice of the disappearances. Following that, the Church stepped in and sent emissaries to investigate what was going on within the halls of that monastery. What they found was enough to warrant the brothers being not only summarily excommunicated from the Church after being expelled from their order... but also for the lot of them to be put to death for their crimes. Naturally, the Church fully covered over the horrific scandal after that.
Some of the brothers had tried to put the blame for their actions squarely on Brother Olivier... and this prompted the Church to attempt to seek him out to discover what had become of him. However, Rainier had been smart enough to see to it that he and Ginette changed their names after settling in at Lorraine... and so it was that no trace of anyone by the name of Rainier Olivier was ever found. Nor did anyone in Lorraine or anywhere else who was either related to him or merely friends with him ever divulge to the Church the truth of his identity. He had also taken to shaving his face, and he grew out his hair until it was quite long... and with this appearance, he no longer looked anything like the man he used to be. It was needful that he remain distant from his relatives and friends, just to be safe... and he kept in contact with them only through the most secretive of means. His messages to them were always so delivered to them by paid messengers who were in the employ of friends of his who remained outside his family and outside the knowledge of even his other, closer friends or associates. He did not need to work due to the extent of his ill-gotten wealth, and anything he needed... he had delivered to his home. He took as habit, the notion of going out only after dark, and Ginette was something of a lover of the nighttime hours as it was. They raised their children to be the same way and keep to the same habits, and it was certain that when Rainier died his children were going to inherit their father's money quite nicely. So it was, and so it went... and he had raised them to work in less than wholly legal businesses that proved to be lucrative enough that they added to their inheritance tenfold and became increasingly wealthy as time passed on. The Church never found any trace of the man, and gave up searching for him once they realized that all anyone truly knew was that he had fled that monastery with Ginette and was never seen or heard from by anyone ever again following that. The guilty monks had been put to death quite brutally and in ways that more than ensured they paid for the things they done at the monastery. But one thing remained that perplexed the emissaries the Church had sent to investigate the goings on at the monastery... no trace of the dead woman was ever found, despite the monks having insisted that they had deposited her body in that very same chamber as the late head abbot. Not even her bones were there to be discovered, and rats were never known for making off with human bones after they had devours what remained on them. It became something of a mystery, but it was one that the emissaries were never able to solve. Because of that, there was never going to be any sense of closure for the woman's husband. When last he heard, she had run away from home with their daughter and all that anyone truly knew after that... was that she had sought sanctuary at that monastery. The Church had told him all that they themselves knew of her final fate, but without her remains she could receive no proper burial of any kind. Being a devout Christian, this distressed the man to no end... and blaming himself at the last for having so driven her away he fell into a state of black depression and turned to drinking heavily as a means of coping with his increasing loathing of himself. It was in this state, that he was fated to meet his own grisly end, and that death also would become something of a mystery but one for more secular authorities to puzzle over the details of.
He was in something of a stupor, this drunken sot of a man. His name, in case that mattered at all in a single person's heart any longer, was Charles Lavigne. Ever since his wife had run away and taken with her their eight year old daughter, he was first and foremost in a state of outrage and after he had learned from the people sent by the Church to inform him, in tandem with officers of the law, of his wife's cruel death at the hands of the monks of the monastery to which she had fled... he had gone from anger into a state of despair that was so total even his mistress could not console him. Rather, he sent her away... for he wished to grieve in solitude, by himself, and did not wish for it to be said of him that he was being in any way unfaithful to his wife's memory during a time when he should be weeping for her bitterly. But, it was not false tears that flowed from his eyes but true ones born of the horrific realization that his own abusive actions and neglectful ways had caused his wife to run into death's jaws, and it could only truly be assumed at this point that she took their daughter into death with her... though no bodies were found.
If neither the Church nor the law could discover their remains, then Charles had no choice but to in a black mood accept that there was simply no balm to ease the suffering that the knowledge that a decent Christian burial being denied to them caused him. All anyone knew of the little girl, is that she had last been reported as being stolen away from the monastery by a disreputable monk who had been known to be a depraved criminal prior to having taken the vows to join the Benedictine order. He had no illusions about the sort of things such a man would do to her... and he was certain that in the end the man would in all likelihood kill the poor child. Since his whereabouts could not be determined, neither would her remains be found when the evil man finally did take her life. Of that, Charles was convinced... though as we know, none of that was true except that the monk in question had indeed been a criminal prior to taking his monk's vows. And, in many ways, he had never stropped actually being one! But Charles, he could not have known any of that since no one did. Thus, he gave up his wife and daughter for dead, as he began one evening to contemplate the possibility of committing suicide. He lived now all alone in a large mansion with a multitude of servants who catered to his every whim. He had a young mistress but she was hardly the sort of woman a man could be proud of... for she lacked the sort of charm and grace that a proper lady had, her being a woman of ill repute and rather unfeminine inclinations. He began to wonder why he had squandered so much money on her and treated his wife so cruelly... and he blamed his own capacity for cruelty and his upbringing at the hands of an equally cruel father for all the ills as now were placed at his doorstep. He regarded the pistol he held in his hand, and pointed it at his head, but as usual he did not discharge it. It was loaded and ready to dispatch him into the next world, but he knew he was bound for Hell and had no desire to go there since it was said that suicide was a sure way to go hence. As was previously mentioned, the man was a devout Christian. He sat in front of the warm hearth of the fireplace at the end of the dining room, having himself not eaten for several days, and did weep the most bitter of tears that any man could. That was when he heard quiet footsteps behind him, and he reasoned that it had to be one of the servants coming to check on him. “I need no assistance!” he cried out, without turning his head to regard the intruder more directly. They kept on walking forward, and his manner became more abrasive as he screamed: “I said... I need no assistance! Go away and be about whatever chores you have not already done about the house. I need my privacy right now!” But still whoever it was... they kept on stepping closer towards the comfortable chair in which he passed so much of his time now. They were silent, and other than the footsteps which sounded like someone who was walking barefoot actually... the servant, for such he thought this to be, made no sound otherwise. It finally unnerved him when he sensed the person standing right behind his chair, but still he made not a move to look at them. Then, the person said to him: “Charles... please, look at me.” and it was the voice of his wife that he heard. He still refused to turn around, and he said only: “I know you to be dead, wife, and I know also that it was my doing... for I did you wrong and drove you away to your horrid end. You must be either a ghost or a creation of my maddening mind. Either way... go away, and leave me to both my grief and my deserved solitude. For aye, I deserve to be alone... to die alone... for my cruelty and my selfishness. If a ghost you are, then find peace in the afterlife for peace it shall be given you are surely bound for Heaven whilst I deserve only to burn in the pits of Hell.” His voice shook and his bottom lip quivered a bit as he spoke those words to his deceased wife. Part of him wanted to turn around and see her at least one last time, but something made him too afraid to do so. She put her arms around the back of the chair and caressed her husband's chest. He saw in horror that her arms had no skin on the red and raw muscle tissue that he observed. Her fingernails had grown into claws, as well. And suddenly, as if this was not terrible enough, he could hear the sound of rats scurrying across the floor behind him, and it sounded like there were hundreds of them. “I am either dreaming, or I am mad!” he exclaimed aloud, but his wife assured him as she said: “You are neither, Charles. Say my name... say it one more time, so I can perhaps rest. When last you spoke it to me, it was in anger. Do it now in love, and I shall forgive!”
He spoke his wife's name, but it was more in fear of her displeasure than in genuine love at this awful point: “Very well, if it will ease your suffering... even if you are not truly here... Eloise. Please, oh I beg of you Eloise... depart from my side, and trouble me not, in this my time of bitterest grief. I do not wish for you to be angry with me, and what I am seeing whether real or not is troubling me greatly!” He tried to close his eyes, but her hands reached up and pried his eyelids open. “No, Charles... no sleep for you, not now! Time enough for a more eternal slumber later, once we have finished with our business.” He was in a panic, for now he was certain this had to be real and not a product of his imagining. “Oh God! Please, Eloise, forgive me... I am a broken man, because of your death. There is nothing worse, you can even think of doing to me that I have not already done to myself! Why, I was just considering taking my own life with the pistol I just laid upon the nearby end table. See? It is still there, right next to the chair I am sitting in. Give it to me... let me end my suffering, so the Devil can claim me rightly!” But fear and her skinless fingers clutching his eyelids kept him from moving. She hissed in a whisper: “Why should I let it be that easy for you! Do you think my death was easy for me to endure? Let me give you a peek at just some of what I was put through.” And quickly, she moved her hands to cover his eyes but before his vision was not darkness but instead a series of visions showing him in detail some of the things that the monks had done to her prior to her death. It was a brief flash of images, but however brief they did sear themselves into his mind so vividly and strongly that he could not get them out of his thoughts. He screamed, and the servants did not come in to check on him because they knew his dark moods and did fear to displease him, assuming wrongly that he was merely venting his grief. Thus... he was wholly at the mercy of the vengeful spirit of his dead wife whose body was kept animate solely by her desire for revenge against the man whose wronging of her had driven her to her death. Even the rats who had all come to devour her were bent to her will, for so strong was that will that in death it become something truly supernatural and powerful. Something dark, something terrible! She could become as immaterial as a shadow or a mist, and in this way she had gained entry to her old home despite it being locked ever so tightly. The rats began to encircle the chair that Charles was sitting on, and some of them started to nibble at his bare feet and climb up his lower legs, biting into his flesh as they did so. “Oh God no! This cannot be... this cannot be!” He shrieked in sheer terror, and his wife took her hand away and quick as a jungle cat she crept around to the front of the chair and stood imperiously before her husband. He saw her in that moment... saw, what she had become... and his screams and tears knew no end. He had some of her blood on his face from her hands, and on his chest as well. She was covered in her own blood, as one might expect from someone who had no skin any longer. Gone was her hair as well as her skin, as from the ruin that once was her face, she grinned... almost evilly. Her eyes were filled with rage, and no longer was there any love within them as once... so long ago... there had of old been, when first they so met and first they had wed. “Look at me, Charles! Look at me. You may not have done this to me, but it was your fault it happened nonetheless... it was your doing, as much as the monks who laid cruel hands upon me and stole my daughter away from me as well. A pistol to your head, is too good for you! Time to perish, the way those false brothers left me to perish... being devoured by rats. Oh, they will wonder how so very many rats got into your ever so clean house, but that is a minor mystery and no concern of mine!” He was screaming piteously as the rats began to cover his body... he wanted to jump to his feet and shake them off, he wanted to fire at them with his pistol, but he lacked the strength to do any of it. Somehow... any strength that still remained to him was being siphoned away from him by the thing that used to be his wife. The more of him that the rats consumed as they feasted upon him, the more skin did grow back upon Eloise's ghastly body. As they burrowed into his body and feasted upon his innards, not only did the woman's skin grow back, but her hair grew back as well, until in the moment in which her husband finally breathed his last... with rats pouring into and out of his mouth to rob him of it... she did stand there looking as perfect and lovely as she had before she died. However common, was her beauty.
Eloise waited until her husband was dead and covered head to toe in a great pile of rats, and after that she proceeded to the chambers where previously the odious man's mistress had lived. She picked out a beautiful dress fit for a noblewoman as well as some soft, silk undergarments. She put them on, and did know a surge of delight as she did so... finally, the clothes that she had always deserved to wear she was able to! After doing that, she gazed into the mirror. She looked just a bit of a mess, but that was only to be expected after having returned from the dead fully. She fixed up her hair, which was just a bit wild looking at present, and put it into a style that was a lot more respectable. Then, she put on some lovely cosmetics, of the precise sort that her husband had stopped allowing her to so wear whilst the hypocrite had fully allowed his mistress to do so. A bit of perfume, and she looked and smelled simply gorgeous! She took all of the money that the mistress left in her chambers, more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life... if she was still limited to a single lifetime's span... and put it into a carrying bag that she clutched in her hands. They were still claws, and rather beastly ones, those hands... but even so, it felt good to be alive again and better off then she had been previously. “I could always wear gloves to cover the claws.” she thought to herself as she slid over her arms a pair of long evening gloves that she found to have a good fit and which covered her hands fully. The sharp points of the claws stuck out of the fingers of the gloves, but people would merely think it was the gloves and that she was eccentric in her choice of them. She would be presenting as a noblewoman, henceforth, and people excused nobles pretty much anything. With a wave of her hand over her face, it changed into a different face... the face of a noblewoman whom she had brutally murdered the night previous, having first driven the woman to madness and causing her to flee out from her home in the late hours of the night, just after the midnight hour tolled. The woman was reported missing but her body was never going to be found... the deed was done in the woods outside the woman's chateau, and the body was buried twenty feet deep beneath the earth of those same woods. In a deep, deep grave that was, at the very bottom... just above the layer of ground that the body was deposited beneath... covered with a layer of bricks, over the top of which lay all that earth that was above it, all twenty feet worth of it. No dogs would ever even by chance be able to sniff it out, and no human beings would ever think to look in those woods for it. There was nothing to mark the grave, and no means to assume there was even a grave there at all. She would take the place of this woman, who had a gentle and goodly husband and a happy, contented life. She would claim that she had a nightmare was all, and got lost in the woods after going too far in. Only a day had passed, and the woman's husband would be far too delighted at his wife's swift return to even question her story in the least bit. A new face... a new name... and a new life! And all it cost her, was her soul. She was sworn to darkness, having become a creature of darkness now. But that was because during her final moments of life, she had silently prayed to everything from God to the Devil to deliver her from her suffering and to punish her husband for all that he had caused. Something truly unspeakable and unbelievably ancient had heard her desperate prayer, and now she was a servant of it, devoted and pious in that service. No longer human, but wearing a human guise all the same. She transformed her body into mist, and drifted out of a nearby window which was open just enough to let such a mist escape. She made certain to also transform the carrying bag into mist so she could take it and its' contents with her... and, she drifted on the night winds to the distant location of the noblewoman's chateau. Far, far from her husband's house. She was that noblewoman now, and so it was time to start acting the part. Meanwhile, the servants did at the last decide to check on Charles, to see how he was doing... and the sight of his wretched skeletal corpse covered in blood, rats, and the remnants of his flesh horrified them beyond the capacity for any reason or sane articulation. Rats even poured forth from his empty eye sockets, having long since eaten his eyes, and the feast they had made of the man was evident for all to see. Between the rats and the fact the money was stolen from the mistress's chambers, an investigation was conducted but in the end not a thing came of it and the matter was dropped and considered to be odd but nothing worth the law's time.
In the year 1767 A.D. , there was a series of scandals that happened in regard to a group of men who were supposedly men of God, men sworn to celibacy and oaths of faith not uncommon to the order of Benedictine monks that they were members of. Though they had been sincere in their devotion to their faith, fate was determined not to allow them to keep to it after all. It began during the arrival at the gate of their monastery, which was located in a place that must not revealed for if it were given then surely the scandalous nature of the events that transpired there would put a blight on the place to this day... a certain middle aged woman who came to the monastery with her eight year old daughter seeking after some measure of sanctuary whilst fleeing from the home of her violent and abusive husband. Honestly, she was only seeking a temporary shelter at best until she could send word to her relatives who lived in the countryside several days distant from the monastery. She was common in her looks, whilst it must be said of her daughter that the child even at so young an age was most uncommonly beautiful. Dressed in the clothing of the common folk, it was shameful that so drab a style of dress should serve to lessen the beauty of such a child, but so it was! For her mother was poor whilst her husband although wealthy had made her destitute whilst in a miserly fashion he kept all of his money for himself alone, to also at times waste on his mistress, a woman who was a notorious prostitute who worked the streets of Paris in earnest, which is where the odious man came by her. Deciding that destitution was intolerable since she was after all married to a man of no modest means... the poor mother had little recourse but to seek the assistance of her family. But it was late in the hour and she was fleeing with her daughter on foot and had been hastening on her way for most of the day by the time she spied the monastery in the distance. It was a choice to stay there for a time, or to take her chances on the road with no protection at her side. At least this way, a letter sent to her relatives by messenger and a period of waiting thereafter should it was hoped procure her their assistance... a place to live going forward, and people to come and escort her to her relatives' house. They were cousins of hers, incidentally, these particular relatives. But one of them had been like a sister to the woman! She owed her nothing, but would refuse her nothing. Outside, the night was dark and although the monastery rarely was called upon to observe the custom of taking in a person seeking sanctuary... on hearing this woman's tale, the brothers more than agreed it was good to honor her request. However, the head abbot of the monastery, a man named Gerard Veron, was of the mind to honor it but only if the woman in return agreed that whilst staying at the monastery she help out by working in the garden outside. She was agreeable to this, but on the singular condition that no one at all should bother her daughter during the time when she was working in the garden. The little girl was to stay in the guest room given to her and her mother to use, and she was to remain in the room and to not bother any of the brothers. And so, no one would have anything to complain about. After all, it was well known that certain children could be a handful to deal with at times, and this one had a great deal of energy and she was very outspoken for a girl her age. A fact that afforded her a spot of trouble in life. All these arrangements were seen to, and the following day saw the mother going out to the garden of the monastery to tend to the vegetables growing there. The monks did not help her with this task, for it was decided that with her to tend the garden they would have more time to get things done within the monastery itself. Meanwhile, the little girl... whose name was Ginette... was bored out of her mind. In fairness, she did have her favorite doll with her, but she was in a bare room little better than a cell, for in all point of fact a cell it was... and a doll could not afford her so much joy in such dull surroundings. At one point, the little girl was crying, and so loudly was she crying that one of the monks came to see what was troubling her. The man was middle-aged and before joining the order he had been known for being criminally inclined towards assaulting young women in ways that violated them basely. He had not so much as seen a woman or a girl since joining the brothers, and in his case it was a matter of so long as such things were out of his sight he could keep to a virtuous life, or to some semblance of one.
This monk with the troubled past, his name was Rainier Olivier. He walked into the guest room, and saw the beautiful little girl sitting on the bed, holding her doll and crying... and wearing her rather drab colored green dress. The girl had long, curly, pale blonde hair, bright blue eyes... and the most sweetly angelic features one could imagine. There was no grace of physical beauty that this child had not been gifted with, and even through her tears her beauty shone through. He tried to remember her last name... it was Lavigne... and he said to her in an inquisitive but polite manner: “Miss Lavigne... young miss... I do hope that all is well with you, and that those tears are not for any serious reason. Do not be afraid to tell me, if something is troubling you!” But the child remembered her mother's instructions, and said in reply: “Mother told me not to bother anyone here, so I am not supposed to talk to you. She said you're not supposed to talk to me either, or the other brothers will get mad at you.” He sat down upon the bed, put a friendly arm around her shoulders, and said to her in an almost fatherly, kindly tone of voice: “But they do not have to know I am here! Do they? You will not tell them, and I certainly will not. So, it can be just our little secret, my being here. You look like you could use some company! Am I correct about that?” Still crying a little, but finding the tears beginning to subside, Ginette said to the monk: “Well... if neither of us will get into any trouble, then sure. But you can't tell Mother about this or she'll say that I was bothering you. Oh, promise, promise not to tell her either!” The monk smiled, and he said to her still in a kindly tone: “I vow to God almighty that what passes in this cell, between us, shall remain only known to you and I, and to no one else who is living.” Then, he began to caress her body with his hands through the fabric of her dress. He touched her chest, touched her thighs, and he began to touch her in places he should not have. She gasped, and set her doll aside as she asked him: “Why are you touching me and rubbing me like this? It feels...” and the monk leaned in close and whispered into her ear with an excited hiss: “Good? I am certain it does, little miss. Grown women enjoy being touched in all these ways, and they enjoy other things also. Things I would very much delight in showing you! Consider it a game, and we can play it together just the two of us. I touch you, and then I will tell you how I want for you to touch me.” The girl, believing it was just game, said innocently: “Oh, alright! If it is only a game then I'll be happy to play along.” Then the monk rubbed the little girl, rhythmically and gently, between her legs, sliding his hand up the skirts of her dress and reaching after that into her undergarments to feel the virgin cleft of her femininity. He did not finger it, lest he accidentally deprive her of her virginity by such a means. He intended to do that with the hardening shaft of his manhood, which had not gotten so erect as it was becoming now... in a very, very long time. For it felt like a lifetime since he had such fun and enjoyable sport with someone of the female persuasion. “Why do you like touching me so much in that place?” she asked him, and he licked the side of her face in an animal-like way that betrayed fully his lust for her. Then, he stated: “Because it is where women and girls can feel the most pleasure, it is a shame your mother or father never saw fit to teach you that. But I can show you how to enjoy this! Only however, if you agree to touch me between my legs where I feel the greatest pleasure. Agreed?” And so naive and young as she was, and knowing nothing at all of sexual intercourse between men and women, she said meekly: “Pleasure? I'd like to feel good... I've been crying so much... and pleasure is happiness after all, the words have similar meanings. So I'll do what you tell me.” And she reached her hand to the place where the monk was pointing... there was something hard there, between the monk's legs, and as she touched it, it became harder. The monk guided her hand as she caressed it, showed her just how to do this, and how to rub it, so it would excite him. As she stroked his cock, in this way, he realized that he could take it no more, thus he pushed the little girl unto her back and pulled her skirts up until they were at her waist. He tore her undergarments off of her, tearing and ripping them in the process, and as soon as this was done he spread her legs and pushed his cock into her virgin cunt with such ferocity that her virginity was taken from her within the first several thrusts of his manhood, the blood of it proof of the deed. She cried out from the pain of this, and felt him moving in and out of her. She was in shock!
Between the tearing sensations and the mixture of pain and pleasure that made no sense to the child, she could not comprehend how this was supposed to simply feel good. She begged the monk to stop, to get off of her, but he refused and so he kept on with her defilement until she felt something warm, wet, and sticky shoot out of his cock and seeming to fill her up inside. He continued to move in and out of her just as he had been doing, until this fluid... this hot warmth... had finished flowing into her. Then, he kissed her mouth and inserted his tongue into it, past her lips, in the sort of kiss only lovers share. After that, he licked her face again and rained smaller kisses all over her face. He tore her dress open in the front, felt her chest and licked her nipples. She was flat chested as any child of eight years old is, but this only aroused the monk more since children were his preference. Once he finished enjoying her in this way, he pulled his cock out of her... got off the bed... and got to his feet. He smiled, this time in a way that was no longer kind but cruel, and cautioned Ginette in a menacing way: “Remember, tell no one what passed between us just now! Tell no one I was even here... or they will blame you and say that you bothered me and drove me to do what I have just done to you. We will both be in trouble then! And they will throw you and your mother out.” She was crying again... the pain she was still in made it that she could not stop crying... but she tried her best to stifle the tears as she nodded her head in agreement. Then, she reached for the towel and washbasin under the bed so she could clean herself up and get rid of the blood... and other fluids... that were all over her thighs and between her legs. She felt dirty, and it was in a way she could not understand the why of. All she knew, was that people would be angry with her if they knew about all of this. So she cleaned herself well, and put on one of the four spare dresses that her mother had packed and brought with them for their journey, putting on new undergarments just prior to doing so. The room had a peculiar odor to it now, but there was nothing to be done about that. She hid the torn dress and ruined undergarments under the bed, and waited patiently for the mother to arrive, which would be several hours from now. She hugged her doll, and wondered why she felt so sad.
Her tasks in the garden done, her mother walked into the guest room and smiled as she asked how her daughter was feeling. The child began to cry again, and her mother asked her what was the matter. But all the little girl would say was: “I cannot tell you! I promised I wouldn't make any trouble.” And such a choice of wording made her mother realize she had done something after all. “Whatever did you do, my little one?” her mother asked, and the little girl told her only: “I played a game, and it was not my idea to play it... I was told it would make me feel happy. But it hurt, and it felt... I can't put it into words. So now... now I am in pain and I can't stop crying.” That was when her mother noticed the odor that was in the room... a foul mixture of blood and the all too familiar scent of a man's seed having been spilled in some fashion. Fear gripped the woman's heart, and she asked little Ginette: “I need you to be as honest with me as you can, right now. Whose idea was this game? Tell me! I have to know. Also... where is it, that you are hurting?” The little girl pointed to between her legs, just where her mother feared she was going to, as she said to her mother: “It was... alright, I'll be honest... it was Brother Olivier. Rainier! He came into my room because he had heard me crying and I was too loud, and then he said we were going to play a game to cheer me up. I was bored, feeling sad, and missing you... but he did things to me. He touched me, made me touch him also, and then he put his... the hard thing he had between his legs, he put it between mine, put it up inside of me and it hurt when he did that. Something came out of it and it was hot and sticky, and some of it got on my thighs when he took the hard thing out of me. He ripped my dress, he ripped my undergarments too, and I had to change my clothes and clean myself after all of that so no one would know. He told me not to tell anyone, said the monks would throw us out if they found out about it. The clothes I was wearing that got ruined... I put them under the bed, with the cloth and washbasin. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to do anything bad.” Her mother found the clothes, the washbasin, and on the cloth in the basin there was blood and some of Rainier's seed upon it.
Checking her daughter's virginity was the woman's next priority... and as she expected she found that indeed the little girl had been completely defiled. The girl was bleeding much less than before, but still there was some light blood coming out. The child would heal, of course... but never had she heard of a man taking the virginity of a girl so young. She intended to tell the head abbot right away, but this time she planned to bring her daughter with her so nothing further could befall her whilst her mother was off doing this or that. They hurried to the abbot's chambers, and told the old man what had happened. But, this did not go as expected! Gerard said in an irritated tone of voice: “This is a serious accusation, and against a brother who is deep in his penance for his past misdeeds. I demand to see proof of this before taking any action!” So... the mother agreed to show the head abbot the evidence that was still under the bed in the guest room, and he accompanied them to the room in order to see it. However, by the time it was that they got back there... someone had clearly removed the clothes, washbasin and cloth and just as swiftly replaced the washbasin and cloth with fresh ones. Clean water was in the basin, and the cloth next to it was pristine and untouched. “I fail to see any evidence of the actions you claim took place... it is clear, that something has upset you and your child, but without examining the girl myself in order to ascertain the loss of her virginity I cannot know whether you are bringing false witness against Brother Olivier or not.” And so the angry mother allowed the old man... with her watching to make certain that no wrongdoing was taking place... to examine her child between the girl's legs. He found, much to his horror, that indeed the little girl had just lost her virginity and very clearly it was done in a violent way. Ginette dressed herself once again as head abbot said in a gravely serious tone: “I.. apologize for having doubted your word, good woman. Brother Olivier must have returned to the scene of his crime and thus taken the evidence and gotten rid of it, hoping I would not believe you if you told me what he had done. But now... I must act against him, and the only thing I can lawfully do is to expel him form this order. It would be up to you, to go to the law after that and see to it that legal action was taken against this man. If they come to ask me what I have seen, I could then vouch for you and that would be enough for them to verify your claims against that wretched fellow.” It was precious little, for the woman had in mind a far more violent variety of justice... but it would have to do. She said to him sadly: “I suppose if that is all that can be done, it will have to suffice.” And the mother and daughter returned to the guest room as the head abbot called for Brother Olivier to be brought before him. But the monks he ordered to do this deed never returned once he sent them forth with his instructions. And he waited for many long hours... but no word came back to him, and the guilty monk was not brought before him either. This was not at all to his liking, for he was a man used to being obeyed... and he went to inquire in person as to what it was that had transpired regarding the monks he sent to fetch Brother Olivier. It appeared as if all of the monastery was empty, and no one was about their chores and tasks. The hour was late afternoon by the look of it, and this emptiness was something he had never witnessed in this holy place before. He made a thorough search of each and every room, chamber, and hallway. Every corner was looked into, but no one was present. He realized the only place left to search was the cellar, and if the brothers were not to be found there... they had clearly all left the monastery, which would be beyond strange. Sure enough, as he fetched a lamp and went down the stairs into the cellar he discovered every single monk who did live and work at the monastery was present there in that dark place. They were having some sort of a meeting or conference among one another, and Brother Olivier was in the midst of it. “What in God's blessed name is going on here?” the head abbot asked the brothers, making no secret of his having thus discovered them. And Brother Olivier said in a cold tone of voice: “Hello there... so good of you to be of a mind to stop by and check on us. Concerned for our well being, perhaps? Or for our souls, not any doubt about that! Well... we are perfectly fine, so no need for any worry. Go away, and leave us to our discussions.” The head abbot was not used to such defiance, and so Gerard said to the wicked monk as was before him: “Go away? I am your superior in our order, and I demand to know what is going on!”
Brother Olivier was a predatory looking man with a hawkish face and a somewhat unkempt beard. He had black hair, cold blue eyes, and a somewhat cadaverous look to him. He looked every bit as sinister as the criminal he was... and even in his choice to totally shave his head instead of taking on the tonsure that the other brothers had, seemed to the head abbot to have been a warning sign that should not have been ignored for so long. The rogue brother said to his superior angrily: “You demand! I have had a bit of a talk with my fellow brothers... and we have decided that we are no longer listening to you at all. In fact... we intend to end your miserable life, and after that we are going to have our way with the woman whose daughter I have already claimed the virtue of. Following that... whatever we desire to do, we will do. And God no longer governs our actions or thoughts... so, do not try and say that we will be punished by God for our actions. Because henceforth... we are the ones who will deliver the punishments!” After this was said, the brothers laid hands upon the head abbot whilst Brother Olivier took a hammer to the old man's head, caving in his skull with it in a gruesomely bloody display of ferocity. The head abbot's body was hidden in a remote chamber in the cellar and left for the rats that frequented it to devour. As soon as Gerard was thus disposed of, the monks rushed forth to the guest room and carried the woman and her daughter to the holiest worship chamber in the entire monastery. There, they took turns raping the woman in brutal fashion, defiling her in every imaginable and possible way before the eyes of her daughter. Brother Olivier did not participate in the woman's ravishment, preferring to sit upon a chair in the chamber whilst holding the little girl firmly upon his lap. He whispered obscenities into her ear as he bade her to watch whilst her mother was used and abused worse than a common whore. “Don't you worry, my little slut...” he said to the child, adding: “Don't you fear... I will not take you again until you have had a chance to recover from our last game. But rest assured! Once you are fully recovered, I will rape you even more vigorously than I did before. And as per my arrangement with my fellow brothers... they get to keep your mother whilst I get to keep you all to myself. The best part about our little game is this, child... the more we play it, the less it will bring you pain and the more it will feel good! I know, it may not seem that way right now... but it is a fact of life and nature, and nothing could be more normal than to enjoy the carnal pleasures that we have for so long been denied in this place. And which, in her miserly fashion, your mother would have you not partake in until you were too old to provide me with the sort of pleasures that I find most enjoyable to savor. I confess, I have a fondness for children and in truth to me you are more beautiful than any adult woman I have ever lain with! So, my little harlot... let us kiss, in between your mother's sufferings.” and he forced a lover's kiss upon her mouth whilst those shrill shrieks and screams of her mother failed to rouse in her rapists even an ounce of pity. They pulled her by the hair across the floor as she was passed from one man to another like a rag doll is passed with much violence between children who have no care for keeping it in good condition. And once all of the men had finished partaking of her however they pleased... they did a very horrible thing that was even repulsive to Brother Olivier's eyes. They tied the woman's hair to a rope, and flung the other end of the rope up and over one of the wooden beams in the rafters above, pulling it downward and hoisting the woman up off the floor, causing her to hang suspended by her hair and in unspeakable agony because of this. They affixed to the other end of the rope a weighted object and left the woman suspended in this way until the weight of her own body began to cause her scalp to tear. She was screaming during all of this, with her screams intensifying until her voice was hoarse. “For the Devil's sake, put her out of her misery if you must!” complained Brother Olivier, tiring of the screams and the various ghastly, hoarse, unintelligible noises that soon replaced those screams. “Also...” he added: “Be mindful, if you do kill the bitch you'll not have her as a plaything for later. After all, the little girl is mine and mine alone! As we agreed.” Suddenly remembering this, the brothers cut the woman's hair causing her to fall unto the floor in a crumpled heap of anguish. They then subjected her to a series of cruelties so inhuman that it seemed like the sort of thing that would happen only within the darkest pits of some demonic perdition.
They brought in a burning brazier and heated knives, along with surgical implements. With these, the brothers began to cut into the woman's flesh, and they skinned her alive until only the bloody muscle as lies beneath the skin remained. Sickeningly, the once more took turns raping her even though she was in this grotesque condition... so that each of the men who had his way with her became covered in her blood after having lay with her. She died during the course of this, and her hair was kept by one of the monks, whilst another kept her breasts and another some other relic of the horrors they had perpetrated. This was too much for Brother Olivier, who had left the monastery with the little girl at his side... and in due course the two of them fled the scene of all these unspeakable atrocities. He had a hidden fortune of the sort that no one knew about, which he had amassed during his crime spree of years ago, prior to his having joined the monastery with repentance on his mind. Knowing he would likely not stick to the monastic order for the rest of his life, he had always kept that fortune a secret, and told no one about the goodly sized house he had in the countryside of Lorraine either. He had friends as well as family half a day's walk or less than that if one kept up a quick pace... and more out in Lorraine. It was easy for him to get where he needed to go, and so it was that he and Ginette Lavigne made something of a relatively decent life for themselves. Having been disgusted by what he had witnessed the brothers do to the girl's mother in the monastery, Rainier Olivier saw it as his obligation to treat the girl right... right as he had defined it anyway. And she was his lover in every way until she was old enough for marriage. After she was of lawful marrying age, Rainier and Ginette got married and no one questioned why a wealthy and seemingly proper older man would be of a mind to marry such a vastly younger woman. Most assumed she was marrying him for his money, though in truth she came to love him with all her heart. They also assumed he was marrying her for her exquisitely beautiful looks... but he came to have far more than a mere lust for her, and his love for her was as great as hers was for him. Ginette had several children by Rainier... and the couple raised them with decency and respect, as they grew up wanting for nothing. In a way... had he had amassed so much by nefarious means... he would not have been able to give Ginette the kind of life she deserved, nor would he have been able to spoil their children, which he loved to do.
Not long after the pair had fled the monastery, in goodly haste... they had left during the course of the wicked brothers flaying and raping once again the ill-fated woman who had been Ginette's mother... the act that as related previously had caused the victimized woman's death. Once the woman was dead and the grisly spoils of her demise were divided among those who had so brutally and monstrously slain her in so bloody a fashion... the men realized there was no longer any vent for their demented urges. Also... they realized that the man who had convinced them to vent those urges had left the monastery with his young prize well in hand. That was just as well for them, since whilst he may have preferred children to grown women, they preferred adult woman by far. On top of that, they liked not that he had refused to participate in their sport with the child's mother, and figured eventually he would have become just as restrictive of a leader as the head abbot had been before him. Now both leaderless and directionless, it transpired that the men fell to fighting among themselves over what to do next. Some continued to go back and defile the dead woman's corpse... and they kept it for this disgusting variety of sport until the body began to rot, after which they no longer wanted the literally bloody thing. And so, they took it to the same chamber in the cellar where they had disposed of the head abbot, and let the rats do the work of consuming what was left of her already skinless and putrefying body. Following this, they began to kidnap women from several neighboring villages until the law finally took notice of the disappearances. Following that, the Church stepped in and sent emissaries to investigate what was going on within the halls of that monastery. What they found was enough to warrant the brothers being not only summarily excommunicated from the Church after being expelled from their order... but also for the lot of them to be put to death for their crimes. Naturally, the Church fully covered over the horrific scandal after that.
Some of the brothers had tried to put the blame for their actions squarely on Brother Olivier... and this prompted the Church to attempt to seek him out to discover what had become of him. However, Rainier had been smart enough to see to it that he and Ginette changed their names after settling in at Lorraine... and so it was that no trace of anyone by the name of Rainier Olivier was ever found. Nor did anyone in Lorraine or anywhere else who was either related to him or merely friends with him ever divulge to the Church the truth of his identity. He had also taken to shaving his face, and he grew out his hair until it was quite long... and with this appearance, he no longer looked anything like the man he used to be. It was needful that he remain distant from his relatives and friends, just to be safe... and he kept in contact with them only through the most secretive of means. His messages to them were always so delivered to them by paid messengers who were in the employ of friends of his who remained outside his family and outside the knowledge of even his other, closer friends or associates. He did not need to work due to the extent of his ill-gotten wealth, and anything he needed... he had delivered to his home. He took as habit, the notion of going out only after dark, and Ginette was something of a lover of the nighttime hours as it was. They raised their children to be the same way and keep to the same habits, and it was certain that when Rainier died his children were going to inherit their father's money quite nicely. So it was, and so it went... and he had raised them to work in less than wholly legal businesses that proved to be lucrative enough that they added to their inheritance tenfold and became increasingly wealthy as time passed on. The Church never found any trace of the man, and gave up searching for him once they realized that all anyone truly knew was that he had fled that monastery with Ginette and was never seen or heard from by anyone ever again following that. The guilty monks had been put to death quite brutally and in ways that more than ensured they paid for the things they done at the monastery. But one thing remained that perplexed the emissaries the Church had sent to investigate the goings on at the monastery... no trace of the dead woman was ever found, despite the monks having insisted that they had deposited her body in that very same chamber as the late head abbot. Not even her bones were there to be discovered, and rats were never known for making off with human bones after they had devours what remained on them. It became something of a mystery, but it was one that the emissaries were never able to solve. Because of that, there was never going to be any sense of closure for the woman's husband. When last he heard, she had run away from home with their daughter and all that anyone truly knew after that... was that she had sought sanctuary at that monastery. The Church had told him all that they themselves knew of her final fate, but without her remains she could receive no proper burial of any kind. Being a devout Christian, this distressed the man to no end... and blaming himself at the last for having so driven her away he fell into a state of black depression and turned to drinking heavily as a means of coping with his increasing loathing of himself. It was in this state, that he was fated to meet his own grisly end, and that death also would become something of a mystery but one for more secular authorities to puzzle over the details of.
He was in something of a stupor, this drunken sot of a man. His name, in case that mattered at all in a single person's heart any longer, was Charles Lavigne. Ever since his wife had run away and taken with her their eight year old daughter, he was first and foremost in a state of outrage and after he had learned from the people sent by the Church to inform him, in tandem with officers of the law, of his wife's cruel death at the hands of the monks of the monastery to which she had fled... he had gone from anger into a state of despair that was so total even his mistress could not console him. Rather, he sent her away... for he wished to grieve in solitude, by himself, and did not wish for it to be said of him that he was being in any way unfaithful to his wife's memory during a time when he should be weeping for her bitterly. But, it was not false tears that flowed from his eyes but true ones born of the horrific realization that his own abusive actions and neglectful ways had caused his wife to run into death's jaws, and it could only truly be assumed at this point that she took their daughter into death with her... though no bodies were found.
If neither the Church nor the law could discover their remains, then Charles had no choice but to in a black mood accept that there was simply no balm to ease the suffering that the knowledge that a decent Christian burial being denied to them caused him. All anyone knew of the little girl, is that she had last been reported as being stolen away from the monastery by a disreputable monk who had been known to be a depraved criminal prior to having taken the vows to join the Benedictine order. He had no illusions about the sort of things such a man would do to her... and he was certain that in the end the man would in all likelihood kill the poor child. Since his whereabouts could not be determined, neither would her remains be found when the evil man finally did take her life. Of that, Charles was convinced... though as we know, none of that was true except that the monk in question had indeed been a criminal prior to taking his monk's vows. And, in many ways, he had never stropped actually being one! But Charles, he could not have known any of that since no one did. Thus, he gave up his wife and daughter for dead, as he began one evening to contemplate the possibility of committing suicide. He lived now all alone in a large mansion with a multitude of servants who catered to his every whim. He had a young mistress but she was hardly the sort of woman a man could be proud of... for she lacked the sort of charm and grace that a proper lady had, her being a woman of ill repute and rather unfeminine inclinations. He began to wonder why he had squandered so much money on her and treated his wife so cruelly... and he blamed his own capacity for cruelty and his upbringing at the hands of an equally cruel father for all the ills as now were placed at his doorstep. He regarded the pistol he held in his hand, and pointed it at his head, but as usual he did not discharge it. It was loaded and ready to dispatch him into the next world, but he knew he was bound for Hell and had no desire to go there since it was said that suicide was a sure way to go hence. As was previously mentioned, the man was a devout Christian. He sat in front of the warm hearth of the fireplace at the end of the dining room, having himself not eaten for several days, and did weep the most bitter of tears that any man could. That was when he heard quiet footsteps behind him, and he reasoned that it had to be one of the servants coming to check on him. “I need no assistance!” he cried out, without turning his head to regard the intruder more directly. They kept on walking forward, and his manner became more abrasive as he screamed: “I said... I need no assistance! Go away and be about whatever chores you have not already done about the house. I need my privacy right now!” But still whoever it was... they kept on stepping closer towards the comfortable chair in which he passed so much of his time now. They were silent, and other than the footsteps which sounded like someone who was walking barefoot actually... the servant, for such he thought this to be, made no sound otherwise. It finally unnerved him when he sensed the person standing right behind his chair, but still he made not a move to look at them. Then, the person said to him: “Charles... please, look at me.” and it was the voice of his wife that he heard. He still refused to turn around, and he said only: “I know you to be dead, wife, and I know also that it was my doing... for I did you wrong and drove you away to your horrid end. You must be either a ghost or a creation of my maddening mind. Either way... go away, and leave me to both my grief and my deserved solitude. For aye, I deserve to be alone... to die alone... for my cruelty and my selfishness. If a ghost you are, then find peace in the afterlife for peace it shall be given you are surely bound for Heaven whilst I deserve only to burn in the pits of Hell.” His voice shook and his bottom lip quivered a bit as he spoke those words to his deceased wife. Part of him wanted to turn around and see her at least one last time, but something made him too afraid to do so. She put her arms around the back of the chair and caressed her husband's chest. He saw in horror that her arms had no skin on the red and raw muscle tissue that he observed. Her fingernails had grown into claws, as well. And suddenly, as if this was not terrible enough, he could hear the sound of rats scurrying across the floor behind him, and it sounded like there were hundreds of them. “I am either dreaming, or I am mad!” he exclaimed aloud, but his wife assured him as she said: “You are neither, Charles. Say my name... say it one more time, so I can perhaps rest. When last you spoke it to me, it was in anger. Do it now in love, and I shall forgive!”
He spoke his wife's name, but it was more in fear of her displeasure than in genuine love at this awful point: “Very well, if it will ease your suffering... even if you are not truly here... Eloise. Please, oh I beg of you Eloise... depart from my side, and trouble me not, in this my time of bitterest grief. I do not wish for you to be angry with me, and what I am seeing whether real or not is troubling me greatly!” He tried to close his eyes, but her hands reached up and pried his eyelids open. “No, Charles... no sleep for you, not now! Time enough for a more eternal slumber later, once we have finished with our business.” He was in a panic, for now he was certain this had to be real and not a product of his imagining. “Oh God! Please, Eloise, forgive me... I am a broken man, because of your death. There is nothing worse, you can even think of doing to me that I have not already done to myself! Why, I was just considering taking my own life with the pistol I just laid upon the nearby end table. See? It is still there, right next to the chair I am sitting in. Give it to me... let me end my suffering, so the Devil can claim me rightly!” But fear and her skinless fingers clutching his eyelids kept him from moving. She hissed in a whisper: “Why should I let it be that easy for you! Do you think my death was easy for me to endure? Let me give you a peek at just some of what I was put through.” And quickly, she moved her hands to cover his eyes but before his vision was not darkness but instead a series of visions showing him in detail some of the things that the monks had done to her prior to her death. It was a brief flash of images, but however brief they did sear themselves into his mind so vividly and strongly that he could not get them out of his thoughts. He screamed, and the servants did not come in to check on him because they knew his dark moods and did fear to displease him, assuming wrongly that he was merely venting his grief. Thus... he was wholly at the mercy of the vengeful spirit of his dead wife whose body was kept animate solely by her desire for revenge against the man whose wronging of her had driven her to her death. Even the rats who had all come to devour her were bent to her will, for so strong was that will that in death it become something truly supernatural and powerful. Something dark, something terrible! She could become as immaterial as a shadow or a mist, and in this way she had gained entry to her old home despite it being locked ever so tightly. The rats began to encircle the chair that Charles was sitting on, and some of them started to nibble at his bare feet and climb up his lower legs, biting into his flesh as they did so. “Oh God no! This cannot be... this cannot be!” He shrieked in sheer terror, and his wife took her hand away and quick as a jungle cat she crept around to the front of the chair and stood imperiously before her husband. He saw her in that moment... saw, what she had become... and his screams and tears knew no end. He had some of her blood on his face from her hands, and on his chest as well. She was covered in her own blood, as one might expect from someone who had no skin any longer. Gone was her hair as well as her skin, as from the ruin that once was her face, she grinned... almost evilly. Her eyes were filled with rage, and no longer was there any love within them as once... so long ago... there had of old been, when first they so met and first they had wed. “Look at me, Charles! Look at me. You may not have done this to me, but it was your fault it happened nonetheless... it was your doing, as much as the monks who laid cruel hands upon me and stole my daughter away from me as well. A pistol to your head, is too good for you! Time to perish, the way those false brothers left me to perish... being devoured by rats. Oh, they will wonder how so very many rats got into your ever so clean house, but that is a minor mystery and no concern of mine!” He was screaming piteously as the rats began to cover his body... he wanted to jump to his feet and shake them off, he wanted to fire at them with his pistol, but he lacked the strength to do any of it. Somehow... any strength that still remained to him was being siphoned away from him by the thing that used to be his wife. The more of him that the rats consumed as they feasted upon him, the more skin did grow back upon Eloise's ghastly body. As they burrowed into his body and feasted upon his innards, not only did the woman's skin grow back, but her hair grew back as well, until in the moment in which her husband finally breathed his last... with rats pouring into and out of his mouth to rob him of it... she did stand there looking as perfect and lovely as she had before she died. However common, was her beauty.
Eloise waited until her husband was dead and covered head to toe in a great pile of rats, and after that she proceeded to the chambers where previously the odious man's mistress had lived. She picked out a beautiful dress fit for a noblewoman as well as some soft, silk undergarments. She put them on, and did know a surge of delight as she did so... finally, the clothes that she had always deserved to wear she was able to! After doing that, she gazed into the mirror. She looked just a bit of a mess, but that was only to be expected after having returned from the dead fully. She fixed up her hair, which was just a bit wild looking at present, and put it into a style that was a lot more respectable. Then, she put on some lovely cosmetics, of the precise sort that her husband had stopped allowing her to so wear whilst the hypocrite had fully allowed his mistress to do so. A bit of perfume, and she looked and smelled simply gorgeous! She took all of the money that the mistress left in her chambers, more than enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life... if she was still limited to a single lifetime's span... and put it into a carrying bag that she clutched in her hands. They were still claws, and rather beastly ones, those hands... but even so, it felt good to be alive again and better off then she had been previously. “I could always wear gloves to cover the claws.” she thought to herself as she slid over her arms a pair of long evening gloves that she found to have a good fit and which covered her hands fully. The sharp points of the claws stuck out of the fingers of the gloves, but people would merely think it was the gloves and that she was eccentric in her choice of them. She would be presenting as a noblewoman, henceforth, and people excused nobles pretty much anything. With a wave of her hand over her face, it changed into a different face... the face of a noblewoman whom she had brutally murdered the night previous, having first driven the woman to madness and causing her to flee out from her home in the late hours of the night, just after the midnight hour tolled. The woman was reported missing but her body was never going to be found... the deed was done in the woods outside the woman's chateau, and the body was buried twenty feet deep beneath the earth of those same woods. In a deep, deep grave that was, at the very bottom... just above the layer of ground that the body was deposited beneath... covered with a layer of bricks, over the top of which lay all that earth that was above it, all twenty feet worth of it. No dogs would ever even by chance be able to sniff it out, and no human beings would ever think to look in those woods for it. There was nothing to mark the grave, and no means to assume there was even a grave there at all. She would take the place of this woman, who had a gentle and goodly husband and a happy, contented life. She would claim that she had a nightmare was all, and got lost in the woods after going too far in. Only a day had passed, and the woman's husband would be far too delighted at his wife's swift return to even question her story in the least bit. A new face... a new name... and a new life! And all it cost her, was her soul. She was sworn to darkness, having become a creature of darkness now. But that was because during her final moments of life, she had silently prayed to everything from God to the Devil to deliver her from her suffering and to punish her husband for all that he had caused. Something truly unspeakable and unbelievably ancient had heard her desperate prayer, and now she was a servant of it, devoted and pious in that service. No longer human, but wearing a human guise all the same. She transformed her body into mist, and drifted out of a nearby window which was open just enough to let such a mist escape. She made certain to also transform the carrying bag into mist so she could take it and its' contents with her... and, she drifted on the night winds to the distant location of the noblewoman's chateau. Far, far from her husband's house. She was that noblewoman now, and so it was time to start acting the part. Meanwhile, the servants did at the last decide to check on Charles, to see how he was doing... and the sight of his wretched skeletal corpse covered in blood, rats, and the remnants of his flesh horrified them beyond the capacity for any reason or sane articulation. Rats even poured forth from his empty eye sockets, having long since eaten his eyes, and the feast they had made of the man was evident for all to see. Between the rats and the fact the money was stolen from the mistress's chambers, an investigation was conducted but in the end not a thing came of it and the matter was dropped and considered to be odd but nothing worth the law's time.
Published 17th Oct 2023
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