Raina the disciple

Raina The Disciple Written by: Marcus Haides Cover art by: Abao

Chapter 1: Black Clouds, Cold Raina…

My birth name is Raina… my origins are not important.

I have a spell-binding infatuation, an obsession, often compulsive… but an obsession none the less, with Death. It has taken me years to come to terms with who I am in its shadow.

I’m sensitive to its sensual movements, in the darkness of the human consciousness I can feel it… like a serpent crawling on my flesh. I’m drawn to it, for I have seen its glory in a rare intimacy only a few have witnessed in life. In short, I’m in love with it. It is my God, and so I worship it. This is all you need to know about me… “…Earth to Raina!” the raspy voice of Mayla, my co-worker brings me back from my daze. “Oh… sorry, I’m just a bit tired I suppose.” I apologize for my rudeness, smiling now in her direction. “Yeah… you’re always zoning out though. Maybe you should try getting more sleep at night, I worry about you sometimes.” She says a bit deflated, realizing I probably wasn’t listening to whatever rant she was spewing at me. Lunch break is over, and we both now make our way from the courtyard of the business complex back to the office building where we work. Mayla is one of the few people I associate with at work, and it is mostly for appearances… but the fact of the matter is, I’m not terribly fond of her, or anyone here for that matter… but I’ve learned to play the part, as a matter of survival.

I find my way back to the solitude of my small cubical, and take my seat. “Raina, there you are…” Russel peeks over the greyish blue walls of my nearly barren cubical…

“You really should think about decorating, it looks so dead over here!” He laughs at his own joke, before bringing up his purpose for disturbing me “Anyway, I need these sorted

and filed, if you don’t mind. I gotta take a conference call in a few minutes.” He lays a stack of papers on my desk. “Not a problem.” I reply. The day passes, just as any other would, uneventful, robotic work, and mindless chatter to make the hours pass by seemingly more quickly.

Before long, it is evening, and the work day has ended. I and the many other employees of my shift flood into the parking lot to get to our vehicles. “Hey!” Mayla shouts to get my attention, apparently, she has parked nearby, after I unlock my vehicle, I pause what I’m doing to hear what she has to say. “…some of the girls and myself are headed downtown in a couple of hours to get some drinks, it is the weekend after all. Do you want to have few drinks with us?” she asks, smiling hopefully.

“It sounds tempting, but I have other engagements.” I tell her, trying not to sound too rude… but really, by this point in our working relationship it is simple courtesy that she asks… because my answer is always the same, variants of No. I don’t want to hang out with you, or those fucking skanks you associate with. “Alright, maybe next time.” She chuckles before walking off to unlock her car. I proceed to enter mine.

The drive home is a short half hour ride, the cloudy sky progressively gets darker as night begins to champion day. It looks as if the sky itself is dying. I turn off my phone ringer as I pull up to my home, I’m done with the outside world for today, I tell myself.

Other concerns begin to build inside of me, as I exit my vehicle, grabbing my purse, then walk to the front door entrance of my two-storied home. I live in a quiet suburban neighborhood, the neighbors don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them, nothing ever happens here… I’m grateful for it, as someone who truly enjoys their privacy and alone

time. I remove my black heels as soon as I enter the door and flick on the lights. Nothing looks out of place.

Tonight is the night… I let my dark hair down as I enter into my kitchen. The lights are preset to a low glow, the dim lighting is comfortable, and it puts me in a relaxed mood.

I pull out a bottle of red wine from my wine cabinet, and a wine glass and set them on my black granite counter. I stare at my phone that I now place down on the counter as well for a few moments, before nervously opening the bottle, and filling my glass with the warm red liquid… it gives off a floral fragrance which is slightly sweet. I drink a few glasses until I’m warm inside, and numb, polishing off the rest of the bottle. I feel like myself now, at last…

I now make my way into the basement entrance located in the hallway next to the kitchen. The door is at the end of the hall, passed my room. Feeling a new confidence, I open the door and turn on the light. Staring down the flight of stairs, the light flickers, before steadying. A single bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminates the small basement. I descend the stairway.

There is a large homemade contraption at the center of the basement. It’s still under construction, but nearly finished. It resembles a tall metal table with metal sliding skirts connecting the legs, the inside is virtually hollow, it connects to a bathtub beneath it with a hole in the table that has a direct view of the tub below it… I have sat in the bathtub many nights, with the metal skirts closed around it. It allows the light to bleed in over my face, while the rest of my body is concealed in black darkness. It feels peaceful. It’s an incomplete altar… but I’m currently filling it with the energy of my desires, there is a love I

place within its construction, so I take my time to perfect it, enjoying it fully along the process.

I slide my hand along the cold surface of its silver metal top, as I walk past it.

Tonight is a night of offering. I head toward a tall rectangular wardrobe storage cabinet made of mahogany. I open it, revealing a small altar, adorned with a skull, bone fragments, two large black candles and poems of devotion. An outfit hangs above it, it’s my ritual clothing… a black hoody, a black ski mask, and black denim jeans.

Leaning to the right side of the cabinet against the corner is a staff like object. It is a tool of the ritual, made from a cattle prod. “Please grant me the strength to carry out your will…” I whisper… it’s a motion of being humble, but really, I don’t need the strength, I was built for this.