Everything comes with a price tag

“Vanessa, the Bishop would like to see you in his office,” said Mother Superior. Her tone dry and to the point. Everyone knows that she has no soul. She is the one who recruits the young bags of flesh and turns them into what the novice would call Nuns. For the most part, the girls were from broken homes, runaways, and some even came to the church after a life on the streets. Not all of them innocent, but when they found ones like Vanessa, the depraved of the world would pay top dollar to be the one who destroyed their faith.

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Dirty confessions of a peeping tom -2-

What a time in life. A pandemic springs up, and the world is shutdown. Working from home should be easy, but for Nicole, it was that thing in the corner of the living room that distracted her. That telescope was a bad investment for someone with ADHD. After watching the show the night before, she couldn’t stop thinking about what happened afterward. Did his wife come home and find the sheets stained with cum? Or the scent of another woman on her husband? Or was she so oblivious to his cheating that she laid in the stain and her skin covered in adultery? Did she wake up and realize that her husband cheated, or did she even care?

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Silk Destruction

As cold as ice, the blade drew circles in her flesh. Never penetrating the flawless canvas below, the artist kept his design in his own mind. Gently her stomach sucked in, the sharp silver caressing the layers of her skin. His head spun with thoughts of sickening beauty. Not every portrait is worthy of hanging on the wall of the Louvre. Some are kept in the depths of a lover’s mind. She placed her hand above his, guiding the destruction into the silk of her being.

A.J. Luna


Her nails red stretched to what felt like talons. She scathed the tips of her fingers over his scalp as she pushed his face into her soft lips. Growling in almost an animalistic tone, she bucked her hips up, soaking him in a flood of lust. Her walls convulsing, she lost control as she pierced the base of his neck, flooding his back with a river of crimson passion. In a fevered pitch of wild ramblings of lust, she screamed her love for him as he fell intoxicated from the overindulgence of her hypnotic honey. After all, every woman is a succubus to a helpless man.

A.J. Luna

Scribbles of passion

Eyes closed, she sunk in the old claw tub—a relic from the past brought back to life. An odd addition to such a classy hotel, but that bath was why she chose that room. The softness of a piano played through the room’s sound system, pungent aroma, and roses filled the water with a relaxing journey into Eden’s garden. Soft footfalls from the other room, his presence is taking up space in the small room. From behind, a soft silk scarf tied around her eyes, she would never see him, but he was damn sure going to make sure she felt him.

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She waited

The last pew on the left, the wood is so worn from years of prayer, there sat a soul so tattered that she screamed internally every time she walked into the hallowed halls. Hands resting on the dilapidated bible, it was a gift on the day she took her first communion in that very church. The faint scent of incense moved through the building like a gloomy June fog. Her nose burning the moment she took the first inhale of the sweet aroma. A mixture of heaven and hell, she slumped at the shoulders, awaiting his visit like a man awaits his walk through the green mile.

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His Greed

His words opened wounds that scathed her soul, digging deeper with each dagger that dripped from his tongue. Her heart his canvas, she ripped her chest wide, begging him to take what was left. Carnivorous with greed, he slowly picked at the flesh, knowing that the pain he would cause could be the masterpiece she sought. As his night meets the dawn like her heaven meets his hell. Two souls bound together forever, she waited to be once again drunk from his selfish desires.

A.J. Luna


In the depths of nowhere, there is a little madness in us all. Close your eyes and take a step into your own soul. The only way to find peace is to drown the ghosts that haunt your dreams. Alice chased the rabbit, and I chase the pain, is it the madness that consumes us all in the end or the fear of being normal?

A.J. Luna