Madame Vanstroviche Poem by Vasto Grom

She stood in front of me as I sat on my knees covered in their blood.

The ground around us was burned and the tree behind me covered with the hanging corpses of those I took from this world.

She spoke softly to me as if speaking to a small child.

The wind howled around us as she told of what I had done though i do not recall any of it.

I asked for her name but she gave none and simply said that she was the keeper of my sin.

I felt the wind slash at me as if made of steel but it seemed not to affect the woman at all.

She held out her hand and told me that she would make it alright and that if I stayed I would suffer their wrath.

As if to prove her point chains burst from the ground and began to claw at my blood soaked flesh as if they were the hands of those whose blood I wore.

I cried out and reached for her hand but she did not move.

She whispered that if I wanted to escape this nightmare I must work for it.

I struggled and strained as the chains tore into my bare flesh cutting deep into the muscle.

As I cried I felt my right arm almost become severed and I knew what I must do.

I writhed and twisted my right arm having the chains cut deeper.

Even though her face was veiled I am sure the woman was smiling as she spoke words of encouragement.

The pain was unimaginable and I felt myself fading.

With the last bit of strength I could muster I thrust my right shoulder forward and felt my arm leave me giving me just enough room to take the woman's out stretched hand.

Then all went black and as I felt the life drain from my mutilated frame I heard her speak into my ear.

'Welcome my little one to your new life and as for question you can call me Madame Vanstroviche. Now open your eyes and stare upon this world that you will call home.'

As I opened my eyes the sight that met them was something of true wonderment and awe.