So some of you may remember, I posted here awhile ago when I touched a statue and started bleeding nonstop.
I bet you all thought I died. In fact, I bet some of you were hoping I died. Sorry to disappoint. I am still very much alive. I feel more alive than I ever have before.
Is it because I went to that little girl for help? No.
Life has been truly blessed for me lately, and touching that statue made it all possible. It can be for you too. If you see her, Our Lady, please, take her hand.
See, I’m a changed man…here’s how it happened:
-———
I was bleeding out. Blood everywhere. Crimson crescents on my nails. Streaks of it pouring from my hair. I could barely cough it out to keep from choking on it. With every second, I grew weaker and weaker. Everything topsy turvy. The world spinning. Black spots filled my vision, and moving in any way hurt. But I was desperate. I crawled out of my house. Maybe I could drive to the hospital and they could tell me what was going on. I got to my car, pulled open the door, and that was it. I don’t even remember passing out.
I do remember a sense of warmth cradling me, carrying me through the darkness. A murmuring filled my ears, and for I don’t know how long, that’s all I could hold onto. Fleeting thoughts shot through my head. My family… my roommates….. all the girls who rejected me, so many other things whipping by. But that warm humming, that melody—it lingered. It kept me safe.
I awoke in a soft, warm bed. Even before I opened my eyes, I could hear the murmuring, but it was different now. Voices I couldn’t make out. I looked around. My vision, blurry at the edges, swiveled and spun less. As my head cleared, I could focus, bit by bit, on my surroundings.
A bed. Not mine, but not like an infirmary one either. It was big and soft, with an oversized pillow, by the feel of it, and a thick, white, puffy comforter. Confusion still swimming in my brain, I tried to make sense of it all. Where was I? What had happened? And why did I have this unshakable feeling of peace?
Was I…. dead?
I wasn’t in a hospital, There were no medical instruments, no curtains, just furnishings you might find in a bedroom- the bed I was in, a few chairs, a small table with a lamp on it, a few dressers and cabinets—and of course, the door, closed. I could see a warm light coming from under it. I looked around again and realized my clothes were neatly folded in one of the chairs; panic flooded me, but only for a second- the calm came again, and I checked, and sure enough, I was wearing clothes. A loose, white shirt, homemade looking, and similarly spun pants.
“Hello?” I called. No response. I could still hear(feel?) the murmuring, and my heart raced for a second, and then settled down. My thoughts raced, then slowed. I didn’t feel dizzy or nauseous or even weak…
…just… calm.
I swung my feet out of bed. The floor was warm on the soles of my feet, and a giddy surge shot through me. I drummed my toes on the floor and hummed a bit contentedly to myself. When was the last time I had felt so good?
I thought again of my ‘friends’, my family, people who had all but spat on me, or overlooked me. Bitterness welled in my gut, and bubbled away just as quickly. I could still remember all of it, and yet somehow it didn’t bug me nearly as much(or at all?). I didn’t understand it, but it was… glorious.
I stood up slowly, carefully, my hand on the nightstand. Surprisingly, I felt fine. No weakness in my limbs. No pain in my body. Part of me felt ridiculous for being so careful. I looked over to my clothes, thinking of changing, and ultimately decided not to. What I was wearing was fine, right?
Yes, yes it was.
I walked gingerly to the door. Fear? Politeness? The voices grew louder as I approached, as if someones were talking just on the other side. My heart quickened again. Excitement.
I laid my hand on the brass handle. Like the floor, it was oddly warm, comforting. If I had had any doubts before, they fell away.
I pulled open the door.
Outside stood two men, one tall and thin, the other shorter, more stocky. In the warm, almost orange light of the hall, their skin seemed sort of fiery, matching the friendly smiles that broke out across their faces.
“Hey! You’re awake!” the shorter man said. He pulled me into a bear hug all at once, and my first reflex was to shove him off, but….
He let me go and stepped back.
“Apologies,” the taller one cut in. “Marcus is always a little excited when we get to bring someone into the fold.”
“Into the fold?” I asked. I stretched out my body, mostly to make sure nothing was broken.
“My name is Tobias,” the tall man continued. “Welcome.”
“uhh… I’m Lester,” I said.
“Lester!” Marcus grabbed my hand and gave it a hearty squeeze. “Glad to have you with us!”
“Yeah…” I said. Questions formed in my mind, but a warm blanket sort of fell over them, and I found myself just staring at my new…
…friends?
“Welcome to il Tugurio Di Agnello Sanguinante.”
“What?”
“Follow us, please.” They started off down the hall. I hesitated for just a moment; to my left, a corridor extended with more closed doors much like mine. I looked back into the room I had come from and thought again about my clothes.
“Come along!” Stern voices, but….Something about their ease and warmth and friendliness spurred me to follow. I shuffled after them, my eye roaming the walls. Every so often there were portraits, ornately framed with gold, with beautiful people all dressed in red. On either side of these paintings, short pillars supporting vases of flowers. The blooms, dianthus, I later learned they were called, were also deep crimson.
“You’re just in time, you know,” Tobias purred.
“Just in time? For what?”
“Sangue di lana,” Marcus grinned. Was there ever a more cheerful man?
“What?” I asked. “ I don’t understand.”
“You will,” Tobias assured me. “We’ll take you to meet some of the others.”
“Don’t worry,” Marcus added. “You’re not the only new one, but you’re all family!”
His eyes seemed a little glazed at that last bit, and something about it all had a thought poking about in my mind, a small voice I could barely hear. It became a bit more clamorous as I looked at the pictures, the eyes of the beautiful people following me. At first, their gazes seemed serene, but now somehow, they seemed more…. Intense. I could feel my body almost squirming, and yet, something else tingled across my skin. Cool, electric. And then warm. My heart hammered in my ears, but I took a deep breath and I settled.
Eventually, we emerged into a hall with row upon row of pews. The tiers of the space descended inward toward a sort of platform in the center, upon which sat a large, red box, not unlike a casket. The room itself, like the portraits, was ornate with gold finishings, with wild vines sprouting those red flowers growing all over the walls.
And then, behind the box, on a raised platform, I noticed it.
I noticed Her.
Her perfect marble glory. Her sensuous curves. She held her hands out, palm up, her gaze serene and haughty all at once. The ribbon, slipping off her shoulders and bunched at her elbows, just barely covered her nipples, and nothing else. It was only the curve of her left thigh, half a step forward, that concealed her privates from me. Warmth and giddiness flooded me all over again, and it was all I could do to resist running to her and throwing myself upon her.
“We all love her,” Tobias uttered, as if reading my thoughts.
“We all need her,” Marcus added, licking his lips. I could see he had begun to sweat, but then, so had I
Other men, dressed much like us, filed in from various entrances, taking their seats in the pew. They came in threes, it seemed; by the way they moved, I got the sense that one of each trio was new, like me. These men gathered in the front, nearest to the box….
….closest to her.
Tobias followed my gaze. “it seems you know where to go,” he said, motioning with a nod.
I did as I was directed, making my way closer and closer to the front. For a moment, as I descended the stairs, something cold flashed through my brain- like I had forgotten something terribly important. I tried to find it, but it had vanished as quickly as it came. Looking to Marcus and Tobias only resulted in them ushering me forward with encouraging smiles. And why wouldn’t they? This was amazing, and I was glad to take part. I squeezed in among the other new ones, feeling a sense of brotherhood. How was it so easy?
Then, a man walked out onto the stage. He was tall and thin, rather frail looking. His eyes were a weird sort of orange—or maybe it was just the firelight- that emanated from…. Somewhere? He wore plain white, translucent robes through which we could see his ribs, the bones of his hips, and else.
“My brethren,” he rasped, and the hall fell quiet. Only the warm murmuring remained in my ears, a backdrop to the geezer’s voice as he continued speaking.
“My brothers, my cousins, my fellows!” his voiced reverberated from the walls, and I could feel my heart swelling.
“Welcome.” He began to pace back and forth, looking at those of us in the front. “You are here because you, my brothers, are the givers.” He paused, looking at us in turn. “You give,”
Pause.
“and you give,”
Pause.
“and you GIVE.”
His gaze came to me.
“And where has that ever gotten you?” He asked.
He… knew me…?
“You give your time and attention to people. Your families. Your friends. You compliment the pretty girls and try to take them out. You give of your meager holdings in the hopes that they will feel special- that they too will share bliss with you.”
He paused in word and speech. The silence hung in the air for several deadly seconds.
“But they don’t, do they?” He resumed his pacing. “They spit on your gifts. They laugh behind your backs and even in your faces. They turn their noses up in disgust.”
He shook his head sadly, angrily. Feelings I felt as well.
“The audacity!” he screamed. “They tell you to be nice, to buy gifts to approach, engage, be confident. All of these things you have to do to be accepted in society, and in the end, you are still mocked for your effort. Never is there room for your feelings. And do you know why?”
Silence again as we stared at him. Bitterness boiled in my bowels just thinking about his words. Then, the truth he poured out to us like fine wine.
“Because while you lot are givers, they, they are takers! They take your time, they take your money, they take your feelings, break you down and use you until you have nothing left.”
“And they are so ungrateful when you have nothing left to give, so offended when you ask for anything at all in return.”
Yes, my givers. You are here because you know what it means to give- to be charitable in this age of cruelty. Look around you. We all understand this truth- to be kind, to give—to sacrifice…. And we understand that so many out there do not understand these things. They take, take, TAKE!”
He paused as if to breathe, his voice becoming soft once more. That feeling of warmth and comfort came flooding back in, dousing the resentment in my heart.
“Here, we give. And here we take.” He turned to Her.
In his enflamed speech, she had grown more voluminous, her body swelling every so slightly, the ivory of her skin gaining more and more color. I could see her hair swirling majestically in some intangible breeze. Her hands seemed to stretch out further, beckoning all of us.
“Qui diamo,” the elder uttered. His robe flowered with deepening spots of crimson, spreading across the garment so quickly. “e qui prendiamo.” He leaned toward Her. Streaming down from her hair, pouring from her eyes, running down her shoulders and arms in little rivulets, blood. The sight of it made my head spin in this really delightful way. Such fresh warmth, smothering whatever that thought was lingering in the back of my mind.
Slowly, lovingly, he lowered his face into her palm, his withered lips kissing her wrist. She caressed him then, smearing red streaks across his face and what was left of his frayed hair. He took her tender fingers into his mouth, suckling the blood from them, each gulp more audible than the last. A weary moan escaped his lips—or was it from hers? Perhaps the both of them, together….
I could feel myself growing hot as I watched, my skin itching. I wanted to move, I wanted to…
My mind wrestled with so many thoughts, I hardly noticed the change until he turned around. Tall. Strong. No longer a sickly old man, skin clinging to bones for the last of their days. No—muscle rippled and writhed beneath his bloodstained garment, his silver mane of hair spilling across shoulders I could only dream of. He stepped back toward us, each stride sounding heavily in the ampitheatre.
“Qui diamo, e qui prendono,” he repeated.
I beheld them both. Him, skin glistening, chest heaving with renewed vigor. Her, glorious her behind him, her eyes warm and alive, offering us the same gift with her outstretched arms. Blood dribbled from her lips and fingertips, rolled lazily down along the curves of her hips and thighs, pooled at her feet. I could have happily kissed and licked my way up from there
.
“Sanguinare è vivere,” another voice said. Soft. Musical. Feminine. “Sanguinare è servire.”
I listened, enraptured, swaying back and forth. And then I noticed the red again. Myself… the newcomers, bleeding, all of us. I looked back to her, and it all made sense.
“Drink,” said the elder. Come forward and give, come forward and take.”
What could we do? What could anyone want, more than this? We drank, all of us, clamoring all over her, cramming our mouths wherever they might fit. I was fortunate enough to find my mouth on her breast, and it was more glorious than I could have ever imagined.
We were one again, her and I. The noise of the others fell away as I beheld her, latching and taking in her essence, all of my fears abating. The hungry and desperate voices did not matter, nor did the jostling and thumping from within the crimson box on which we stood….
No, all that mattered was her, and me.
-———
So you see, I’ve come up in the world. Now I am a Giver, but I am no longer Taken so tritely by those who didn’t give a shit about me before. I am part of something much greater, and you, dear reader, can be too.