I picked up a large stick and threw it at the mongrel. Like any dog, he reacted by biting the stick that hit him, not the person that threw it.
Humans are like dogs, I thought. They never attack the real source of their misery.
My Life As A Fugitive
My destiny is bleak. I am indifferent to death—I have no dread of hell and no expectation of paradise—but I do fear the monsters. Every night—I know—may be my last.
For the moment I am free, but I can no longer live a normal life. A homeless nomad, manoeuvering between death and madness, I can never rest in peace.
Since the monsters track, ambush, and ensnare by night, I move only by day. To cover my scent, I usually travel only when it rains.
Solitary and aggressive—a fugitive in my own world—I live like a scorpion. Trusting no one, I abide in constant fear. Paranoia, as they say, is heightened awareness.
To support myself—to pay for food, clothing, and shelter—I have become a prostitute, the second oldest profession. Covering my deformities with a long cloak, I am a fellatrice. That is to say, I am paid to perform oral sex on repulsive and perverted old men.
I hate those old men—filthy beasts with their pubic scabs— wasted by desires they need whores to satisfy—but they give me an opportunity to feed.
Thanks to my profession, I can indulge in the most basic of cannibalistic acts: the swallowing of semen during fellatio. Fornicating with my mouth, I eat the life of the men I hate.
Prostitution carries risks—disfiguring gonorrhea, maddening syphilis, and cancerous A.I.D.S. are constant threats—but I do what I must do.
Postscript By M. L . Mirabello, Ph.D.
‘Be ye therefore wise as snakes....‘
Jesus of Nazareth (Matthew 10:16)
Last Words With The Mysterious Stranger When I had finished reading the manuscript, I looked up at the woman. She was feeding on another sugar ant.
‘Ingestion is the ultimate act of domination,’ she whispered. ‘The victim is absorbed by the eater—body and soul are absorbed—and all that remains is excrement.’
I nodded my head in agreement, and the woman smiled. Then, she reached into her pocket, retrieved still another sugar ant, and gave it to me to eat.
‘You must torture it first,’ she whispered, with perverse logic. ‘Terror-stricken animals taste better.’
I placed the beast in my mouth. I could feel it squirming on my tongue, and the experience was not pleasant.
‘Savor the moment,’ whispered the stranger. ‘A first kill— like a first love—is a special experience.’
Acting almost instinctively, I swallowed the helpless creature. A faint feeling of nausea touched me.
‘Violating the animal, you have completed the sacrament,’ whispered the woman. ‘Your victim is now bound consubstantially with your soul.’
Mandrake Cult Fiction History of Fun Mary Hedger
ISBN 1869928636 £8.99/$15 in paper
In an explicit sex magick orgy, History of Fun
recounts the origins of a powerful occult
phenomenon, the cult of Thelema. Artist and mother Est, can no longer numb the magnetic pull of her destiny with drugs. Newly aroused instinct propels her to a fateful encounter with Stritch, half starved rock god and member of The Beast's secret cult. Est is inevitably attracted towards the hub of their organisation.
The Beast 666 and his Scarlet Woman 156, luxuriate in ritual sex magick devised to attract new acolytes, while Mama Shag uses Ridelands, her country estate, for secret gatherings of the cult's inner circle. Here acolytes are tested and newcomers initiated, proving their allegiance in the mysteries which unfold within the underground chamber.
‘I want to thank you for the feast you provided with further pages of ‘History of Fun’. I am beginning - just beginning, to become conscious of the sheer scope and depth of your vision, to say nothing of the subtleties which lurk in almost every line.’ - Kenneth Grant
For inquires about this and other magical and Thelemic titles visit our websit at www.mandrake.uk.net or call Mogg for a catalogue on (01865) 243671 Fax (01865) 432929 email [email protected]
or write to: PO Box 250, Oxford, OX1 1AP (UK)
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