Kris, leaving behind his old form and putting on the new without a glance back was about to learn all about prices. Nothing, absolutely nothing, in this world is free. If one has the illusion that it is, one will pay threefold the price. Unforgiving, yes. Ruthless, yes. But the most hurtful part of all…. true.

The whisper of the real Kris lingered on Ferr’s lips, repeating itself to infinite. Travelling across all the spiral of existence, invoking the power and knowledge of time and all for this one, now finite, Aym. The wounds on the skin of Ferr’s chest had nearly stopped shedding their bleeding tears down his abdomen. Aym was kneeling in front of him still, his arms wrapped around his guide’s waste, cheek pressed against the skin. He enjoyed the warmth and enjoying the last beautiful aftertastes of the blood. One moment along with one soon to be memory suspended into eternity… if only that were possible for the sane as well.

… Aym got up to his feet once more, standing surging with power in front of Ferr, his left arm still around his waist. Curving the corners of his lips, a smile so dark and knowing that once the two were looking into each other’s eyes, projecting each other into one another, it was clear who was master now and who was the slave. Who had a purpose ahead and who had served his purpose.

Aym’s clawed hands plunged into Ferr’s chest with ease, immediately soaking Ferr’s lower body with blood. The claws wrapped around with care around Ferr’s beating heart, tenderly waiting for his goodbye. Ferr gasped and smiled in the most heavenly way to his counterpart, brushing the tips of his finger against Aym’s cheek ever so gently. In a moment, Ferr leaned into Aym a little more, Aym’s claws closing in on the beating essence and in a smooth yet rapid gesture, he ripped the still struggling heart out of his chest. The carnal shell of Ferr dropped to the floor white still the heart beat. Aym closed his lips on it, kissing it, taking the last drops on blood into him and finally paying the price for all he had become, by will or otherwise.

Alone.

His slender fingers immediately found the buttons of his shirt where Ferr’s fingers had left off, his eyes deeply fixed into his friend’s. Slowly and with a sure hand he finished the job unbuttoning the shirt that had concealed his upper body exposing his skin, and he felt the subtle disappearance of yet another constraint that had bound him to the old self. The shirt slid down soundlessly to the floor. It was not enough. His hands turned to Ferr’s open shirt and made that slide down next to the other as well… Skin. The soft perfection that molded to his and this being’s form… yet he truly felt like the form was nothing without the essence and the essence was a devouring black flame. With the corners of his eyes he watched Ferr’s hands turn with their palms up …

Good. The dark shall have its way. The deep shall have its tribute. But you must tell me, my friend, first… what is your name.

Immediately the young man knew what was ordered of him. What the depth of this demand really was. Inside, something stirred with a violence he had not known and the reverberations of something that resembled a menacing growl escalating upwards to his throat, but before reaching it collapsing back into the darkness of his core. Clenching his teeth and curling his fingers into tight fists, he closed his eyes let himself fall into the depths towards the growl, towards the hunger, towards what it was that had laid dormant for so long. Plunging into himself, he left his carnal form behind and he could feel he was still there, tensed to infinity, yet he was reaching for the thing he sought, he realized, his entire mortal existence. At long last, the young man was finally ready to discard himself as what he had been, as Kris, and be what he was. The molding of his inner being was taking shape and so did his carnal body in accordance to the acception of the merge between past and present knowledge of self. The power infusion felt like small electric shocks throughout every fiber, every cell. His hands unclenched, a creeping running all the way to the tips of his fingers… what were before his fingernails, in their place were now extremely sharp claws. He opened his eyes and stared directly into Ferr’s eyes. The transformation there was remarcable as well… for where brown eyes had been, now they we black… even the white of the eyes was black and the only element lighting them up with surging life force were golden specks scattered all around the pupil where the previous iris had been.

Your name…

… Ferr’s deep silent order came again with sharp clarity. The young man raised his right arm, pointing the claw of his index finger towards his demanding friend. He let go the last part of him that was still keeping him back from this. He let go and let himself be filled with this new dark delicious energy.

Everything… had a price. You made the demand, now you shall have it fulfilled and I shall have mine.

… The young man’s voice was stronger, deeper than he had known and authority and power was seeping from every sound. Ferr’s head tilted forward slowly, his palms still in an inviting gesture, thus sealing the pact with an agreement. The price would be payed.

The outstretched claw touched the skin of Ferr’s chest on the right side and dug into it until blood was drawn and sliding down to the abdomen in a small rivulet. An almost insane smile engulfed the young man’s face as he dragged the claw slowly over the skin, making a line… then another… The thrill of this act, the young man realized, sated a small part of his devouring hunger. He was writing on Ferr’s skin…

Finally finishing, he withdrew the claw positioning his arm alongside his body and letting a drop of blood fall to the floor. Fixing his gaze upon Ferr, he spoke…

My name… Now the price.

The young man took a step closer to the bleeding bare chest of his friend and knelt until his eyes were at the exact same level as his blood written name. Ferr took a deep breath and nodded, his voice still a whisper.

It is what you have always asked for, even before you knew it. Now, for the first time, you shall have it. Let it fill you and help you define what you have so beautifully started.

…feed.

The devious smile on his face turned into a grin at the words of his strange friend, hunger fighting to take over him. Before pressing his lips to the rivulets of flowing life, he hissed…

You are marked.

…and licked the small streams of blood starting down and moving slowly upwards to the wounds that were the source. It truly tasted like power in its purest form, containing part of Ferr’s core, his personality and his limitless wisdom. The merging was so luring that he thought he may even get lost in the sheer pleasure of the feeding, delighting himself on the being of his friend… He had never felt more fulfilled in his entire existence.

I always have been, Aym … drink…

“Marilyn Manson Remembers Hunter S. Thompson

MARILYN MANSON got a call five years ago from Johnny Depp, who was partying at the Viper Room in Los Angeles with Hunter. “Get down here,” Depp said. “You’ve got to meet this guy.” After that, Manson and Hunter spoke regularly in late night phone calls.

We both kept extremely odd hours, and we would talk to each other endlessly. He would leave messages referring to me with a series of names that ranged from my birth name, Brian, to Bubba, which he used on everyone. He also called me Shit Eyes. I’m not sure what it means, but it’s probably the greatest thing anyone has ever said: “Call me back, Shit Eyes, because I need an audience.”

One time when I called he was very quiet. I said, “What’s going on?” He said, “How do I say this? I’m in a romantic moment.” I said, “I’m so glad for you. Call me tomorrow.” I was really happy that there was still sex going on. Hopefully, it was with a person.

Once I was going to court on a fourth-degree misdemeanor when my cell phone started ringing at 6:15 in the morning. It was Hunter. I told him I was worried I’d be drug-tested when I turned myself in. “When was the last time you did drugs?” he asked. I couldn’t be certain. “Get a rental car and flee the country,” he said. He was dead serious. “Thanks for the advice,” I said. “I love you.”

Johnny Depp once told me, “Hunter fears you.” I asked why. “Because he thinks you’re not afraid to go all the way, to hit bottom, to go wherever he wants to go. And he likes that.” That’s a good basis for friendship. Or trouble. But that’s what friends are for. We were having dinner at the Chateau Marmont; I think it was Johnny’s birthday. It was like the Last Supper, only with all the crazy people in Hollywood: Nick Nolte, the week of his famous hair picture, Mickey Rourke, Johnny, Benicio, myself. Hunter had a bandaged hand from punching holes in a window. After dinner we all went upstairs and he read from his book ‘Kingdom of Fear’. Some drunken girl knocked on the door and he was so angry, he couldn’t form a word. He just kept pointing his finger until she was removed. Then you had a roomful of rowdy fellows, very calmly sitting, listening to a bedtime story from a very cool grandfather, uncle, brother, whatever.

A day or two later he sent me ‘Kingdom of Fear’. The inscription says, “Manson, beware the flag suckers. They will run you down and eat your flesh but not your heart or your brain, for they are unclean. Good luck.” “

Marilyn Manson
Rolling Stone
March 24, 2005

There are few people that match our minds in this world and when we meet them they would make themselves known and loved by us through the means of making ourselves know ourselves better. If that isn’t a blessing, I truly don’t know what is. The human nature is a social one, yet with this nature come undoubted boundaries inflicted upon us by the big organism people gave birth to and now call society. Doing anything outside the normal will draw attention, wanted or not, friendly or not, but too few seem to realize that is yet another song of evolution. Not all shall understand the lyrics, but in the end, if you hear it enough times, you may find yourselves humming the tune. Hopefully, one day, deep inside, the connection shall be made and we shall accept that what is different is not necessarily evil or to be feared.

In that same sense, perhaps we shall one day see that Marilyn Manson, whom I love, and, say, Buddha, sing the same song with slightly different lyrics. I look forward to the day when the whole world will join in and humm the god damn tune.

He slowly started to remember fragments of more lit moments before this one as his clarity of mind was coming back to him painfully slow. He thought this was no good time for a sluggish mind stream. He remembered his laptop opened on the solid wooden desk in his study. He remembered the bluish electric shadow of a light it cast on the walls… had he been working? Yes. He remembered the deep fragrance of the cherry cigar and the liquid fire of his whisky. Ah, what he wouldn’t give to have a taste of each of those, feel how the mixture filled him up, making him feel the deep quiet it usually provided him when his thoughts were troubled. Troubled, yes. He could now not recall why he had been troubled. Nor did it matter. Not for his current state of being.

Shifting his limbs on the cold floor he could feel … restrained. His hands had been tied behind his back, his legs tied together at the ankles. How much it hurt him, how it stopped the circulation in his extremities. He could also feel some dull pain in odd places all over his body… bruises no doubt. He really had not been handled with care at all.

“Don’t worry too much yet, mister Serrat” the deep voice said with a hint of sarcasm. “You will not be leaving here for a while…”

Moving his head backwards, the young man opened his mouth and drew in a breath heavily… finally uttering “Wh – ere am… I?” his ribcage struggling to mold to the needs of this young man into words that required answers.

A flash of remembrance sent another bolt of pain through his entire body… Two men wearing back… much taller than himself… the prickling pain of a needle that pierced his skin… falling to the ground and losing his sight slowly as the fog of the drug settled in over him.

“Please… I have done …nothing..to you.” he struggled desperately to whisper in the hope that he would be heard. Perhaps even taken pity on. No.
“-You-? Done –nothing-? Mister Serrat, you really have your mind clouded. Even if I admit  to you telling the truth now, your fate is in the hands of my superior.” And saying that he frowned and stood up. The young man could hear the sound of his footsteps approaching… his breath turned uneven as his every fiber was invaded at a maddening speed with fear. Primal fear. The footsteps stopped at a small distance from his head. He pressed his lips together as he felt with his being that more pain was about to bite into his very soul.

The man with the deep voice lowered his body next to him and curled his fingers in his black hair. Tightening his grip, the man yanked his head from the floor and whispered in an even deeper voice… “You will pay, you know. And soon. Have patience, …your highness.” You could hear the malefic grin on his face that was pulsating in his whispers even more with every drop of irony. It flowed like poison on the skin of this cheeks and forehead and smeared the young man making him feel dirty with desperation.

He had been a protected as a child. Now, alone in this world, he was called the “prince of dusk”. His eyes always told the story of dusk. Dying light, making room for darkness in his soul…and even more definetly, in his current situation…

…his head was let to drop down on the cold floor once more… he moaned in pain. Waiting.

“Such a good reply to my own smile, my friend.”

…Ferr whispered. The long haired man slightly tilted his head forward in a beckoning gesture of “please follow me… ” as he turned slowly to continue their way through the damp, dark streets.

Finally letting some air out of his lungs, Kris moved to the plead of this strange companion he had met so very recently. Enthralled… yes, he was. Scared? To some extent. One thing that kept spinning around in his mind was how pleasurable this game was… how delicious the sweet fragrance of danger that simply oozed from Ferr’s entire body depite his overwhealming gentleness. The calm before the storm that destroys everything in it’s path… How very poetic.

They walked for a while longer that seemed like an eternity compressed in minutes. Ferr turned and smiled yet again at the photographer and with an elegant stretch of his arms with his slender fingers unfolded… he presented the entrance to an old but tasteful building.

“Please…”

Kris obediently followed Ferr up the circular stairs and for a brief moment he felt like he was slipping out of his consciousness, out of the sense of time and out of this world. He stopped for a moment and gazed down the spiral to let out an almost unperceivable sigh then continue his way up. Ferr was guiding him in the darkness of the corridors until they both reached a massive door that looked almost ancient even for the building they were in.

A few swift movements of Ferr’s hands, followed by the typical clicking sound of the unlocked door and the next thing Kris knew was that this stranger’s hands were placed on his shoulders and slightly pulling him inside with the same benevolent smile his lips had upheld before. No resistance… the young photographer almost cursed himself for that for a time’s instant, quickly being distracted by the deep mosk scent that lingered in this stranger’s room. Mingled with the faint smell of a lit candle, he could also feel the inviting scent…. of old books. How much this last fragrance talked to his soul… how many hours had he spent as a young boy in the library of his father.

And how the bittersweet melancholy slowly took over him now remembering all of this making him almost forget about the constant presence of danger or intrigue. Or even the touch of the beautiful man’s hands on his shoulders.

“Ah, my friend. Welcome to my home. It pleases me greatly to see all of your previous scars and masks melt away.”

… the young photographer flinched slightly, being pulled from the spell he himself nurtured. But indeed he did fear less… he did care less and was now slowly coming to the realization of the simple fact that he had nothing to lose to begin with. He was not at the top of a spiral from where he could fall to his destruction… he was at the bottom of it. He bit his lower lip as an ultimate innocent curiosity of what his immediate future held crept over his being -and- his body. He felt refreshed in this deep, inviting, darkness.

“So you finally do trust me. I thank you, my beautiful friend. I wanted you to leave your present life in a hope that perhaps you could find something better and more suitable to you. You see… if one such as yourself is not in his real place… he would suffer. Greatly. Then start to fade… and… just… disappear into the oblivion of the masses.”

…the young Kris just listened, absorbing every word of it. Still he felt like his layers were being peeled away from him leaving the core of his being bare … but in a strange way, not vulnerable at all. He felt stronger. And a deep dark urge of hunger began to grow in him… slipping rapidly throughout his cells and fibers… from his skin… to his innerds… to his heart.

“… you can feel that. And I can see what it does to you. Do not fight it… but for once, let it roam inside you freely and you shall see what that feels like… how much richer it is to even what you feel now.”

The strange man removed his hands from Kris’s shoulders and let his coat slide off his own shoulders and let it fall almost carelessly onto the back of a remarkably carved armless chair. Then shifting his eyes back into the young man’s eyes, he uncuffed the sleeves of his black shirt to free his hands and wrists… he moves his fingers in a series of simple gestures that resulted in the removal of the photographer’s coat and the unbuttoning of the first two button’s of his shirt. The young man payed almost no attention to what was being done to him… but merely enjoying this feeling of hunger that took the power of a fire now inside his being. How gorgeously outrageous it felt… how empowering and true… He felt how his former self was slipping even further away from him, making room for this new energy to manifest. He wanted that… he wanted the change… he invited it and wanted to keep it.

“…you shall have it, my beautiful. Let me be your guide though the labyrinth that is the real you… “