Nocturne: Introduction
#1 of Nocturne
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Fair old Nocturne
Across the lands the cities rose like giants, shore to shore. The viral plague of humanity spread over hill and dale. The souls it nurtured ate and drank and lived life to it's full, never doubting what they knew of brick and bone and blood and ilk. One such city stands proud alone, it's waters thick with acrid mud. It calls its song of heaven in excess and sleazy Sodom fills it's breast.
The docks are where the new meat shine, their bodies sweating in salty air. Here the prey and predator are alike, in sharing toil and shedding hair. The work is hard and makes them brittle; liable to snap - in heat, in anger and denial that this is where they're at. To let off steam they follow an ever baser trend. And return to kingdoms long far forgotten apart from in this sacred glen. Between the cranes and crates of wood the shadows meld and cry for more.
And on to suburbia where souls declare they have no need or desperation. These well off souls seek not escape, but rather respite from dullest life. The dazed and confused in boredom's toe are stuck with desire to break the flow of life so dull and dreary still, and inherit a deeper, darker will. She wears it well, and all can see - not just her dearest lost hubby. Late from work he does not know the sins that she commits for all to see, but were he to know who could say, perhaps he'd like it best that way. It certainly does not bother the kid.
But true romance can never blossom beneath the steel sky of the suburb, and so the teens do tear away up the hills to clear respite. Gone are parents and the threat of loving glances - ill met. Instead the bodies of these run free, naked, lurid as can be, and unions not of civilised man, but instead the beast inhabit here. Enter domain of darkness falls and between the trees and waterfalls will find wetness so discreet as to make the poor old women weep, but shared so freely to delight the eager noses of the night.
But city's sin knows no bounds, 'sides which those are found for it. She thinks herself the greed and good, and knows she gets more than she should. Her station is far below his, as she arrives at his offices. CEO, BSc, MHA or PHD it matters not to she. When he commands she sits and stays, and hardly ever shrinks away. The smiles they share alone in bed cannot match the torments in her head. Alone is all they'll ever be, for equals none are found with she.
We pray for release from this torment, to be stuck in a life such led, by lust for glory and power - we vent and howl and cry and wonder why the imaginary men we made have let us die. The churches that we build so high are no more sacred than blue sky, and turned to darker purpose still when religious leaders have had their fill and take to turning their congregation into their own molest-nation. We fight it nail and tooth and claw, but for moral refrain, they're above the law.
And law is as law only does, in locker rooms and down the pubs, where after long days of beating thugs the officers turn from outside crime. Instead the bully grins and sighs at beautiful bend of colleague's thighs. He'd probably report is as harassment if there were some authority to call, instead he takes each forward blow and tries to tell himself he's part of the show and enjoying every bit of it.
Nocturne spills its precious liquids - the city oozes like a boil. Its inhabitants are indiscriminate, and never balk at horror or kink. A perfectly permissive society is perhaps rougher than you'd think. The law is majority and majority declares, if you're hiding something they'll make you bare.
On a rooftop, far above the maelstrom a rabbit leans over the balcony railing, surveying the city below. At this distance, and without the benefit of knowledge, it was almost possible to believe that those below were nice, peaceful and caring. That love could blossom and that sex could wait; that the desire to dominate the heart overcame the genitals. She smiled on Nocturne, and for a moment, in the moonlight, it seemed like Nocturne too smiled back...