The Hand Requiem Romane & Geschichten

I haven't had any dreams since Matty's. I feel a hand at my waist, I quickly turn around coming face to face with..... Damon. "Damon.... what are u doing?" "Showing you a good time love...... you're so beautiful Cornelia.... I needed to have u " He pressed his lips to mine and his hands started cupping my cheeks. "Cornelia.... tell me that u want this too" He said ending the kiss. I don't understand what's happening.... why Damon..... I don't know him..... maybe that's why..... why am I having erotic dreams..... why?

"Love is like a torch, burning brightly and felt deeply. But, Xander, I didn't feel your love. If I didn't feel it, it didn't exist. What's the point of talking about love now?" Why would anyone who truly loved someone repeatedly make them feel heartbroken? Natasha rushed over, shoving me. "Cynthia, you slut. How dare you speak to Xander that way?" As she pushed me, the flame, which was still flickering, burned my left hand. Before I could say anything, Xander immediately grabbed my hand, blowing on it worriedly. "Cynthia, are you okay?" He then turned to Natasha, pointing at her. "Are you crazy? Apologize to Cynthia right now!"

Inside, the air was cold and sweet with decay. I traced my fingers along the cracked frescoes — saints whose eyes had been gouged out, their halos faded to shadow. At the altar lay a single relic — a crown of white thorns. When I reached for it, my hand burned. Visions flooded through me — Rome in flames, a woman cloaked in gold standing atop a pile of skulls. Behind her, a thousand voices chanting one name: Amara Valeria Sancta. I stumbled back. Luca caught me before I hit the floor.

It was an agonizing and depressing day for all of us, seeing as this man in question, a man of distinguished repute had impacted in one way or another, into our daily lives. As the Nissan fastback, four-door Sedan drove into the church premises where the requiem mass was to be held, it had started raining almost instantly. The rain didn't help at all and instead, it had driven me deeper than I already was into the current sombre states of reflection and grief. Reluctantly I had recalled. The day when I had almost drowned in my own self but was saved by a hand that had reached out to reclaim me. ~~~~ "Beautiful isn't it?" I heard a deep voice abruptly call out from behind. At the double, it h

What stood out was the grand piano, and song sheets which surprisingly was impeccably clean like someone dusted it everyday. She moved to the piano, she struck a chord but jumped at the majestic sound it produced. She saw Mozart's requiem Lacrimosa Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus Lacrimosa Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus Huic ergo parce Deus Pie Jesu, Jesu Domine Dona eis requiem Amen Amen

of his identity. "FORGET... THE... GRIEF," a trillion whispers echoed within him, sounding like dry leaves skimming over a grave. "THE... GRIEF... IS... FRICTION. FRICTION... IS... HEAT. HEAT... IS... DECAY. BECOME... THE... COOL... SILENCE. BECOME... THE... ARCHIVE."

"You love dealing with this hand, right? I'll make sure you never deal again for the rest of your life!" Cesar leaned against the bar, lit a cigar, and watched coldly with interest. Liliana raised the chip case and brought it down hard on my right hand. Pain shot through my hand. I felt the burn through my entire arm. "Ah!" I screamed in agony. My body convulsed, and cold sweat soaked my back. Darkness crept over my vision, and a high-pitched ringing filled my skull. Just as I was about to pass out from the pain, the phone Liliana had snatched from me suddenly rang.

The flicker of expectation in his eyes finally hardened into disappointment and cold resolve. He took a deep breath, straightened his spine, and finally nodded to everyone present. "Proceed with the ceremony." The pipe organ began to play a solemn hymn. Dozens of Capos, who controlled the European underground black money empire, formed two lines. One by one, they stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and kissed the ring on Lorenzo's hand. "*Bacio le mani, Don Corleone.*" (I kiss the hands, Don Corleone.)

Two big clawed handprints were etched on each side of the inscription and were linked to the wraith above with a vein-like system which glistened in ember and amethyst flickers. Kandreah read the inscription: “…sine manu iusti domini sui, nisi per sacrificium per sanguinem trium mundi, intrabis vestibulum portarum usque ad ultimos circulos ad infernum…locus ubi animae fractae in tenebras convertuntur, damnatio aeterna et desperatio ad misericordiam et redemptionem petendam.…” “Ok, bat boy, we figured out you can speak nonsense in multiple languages. Malleteagan wrongfully called you a leech. He should have called you bookworm instead. So do you know what that shit there says?” I asked him, a

'Make me confess with your hand inside me. He chuckled darkly, two fingers plunging in without preamble, thick and insistent, stretching my walls. I cried out, gripping the desk's edges as he pumped them deep, curling to stroke that sensitive spot inside. His thumb circled my clit, rough and unyielding, while his other hand slapped my breast, the fleshy mound jiggling from the impact. 'Pray, Maureen. Tell God how much you love being finger-fucked by your priest.'