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Sa Kumbento ni PadrePio

Abandon sanity, all ye who enter.

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The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter II

The Man Without a Face
Montpellier
April 1067

The man without a face couldn’t find the right word. And it made him uglier. His withered face, remnant of a once handsome face ravaged by the plague, was twisted into concentration.

Querabin?

He couldn’t find the right word that he knew succinctly described the beautiful creature frolicking naked by the river. Those infernal priests and their Latin! He cursed. The creature was a boy child of about eight summers or so. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. Golden locks which were naturally curled on their ends. Skin almost as pure as snow. And the eyes. They were the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

Serubin? Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter II”

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The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter I

Raengarde Galen
Chateau Comtal, Carcassonne
February 1067

The sleepy little castle town of Carcassonne awakened early. From nearby villages came donkey carts laden with produce. In the air were sounds of wooden wheels; of bleating goats and braying donkeys trotting into market. By the time the church bells began ringing for the morning Angelus, merchants emerged like insects and commenced shouting their wares. At once, the soft hubbub of noises turned into an almost deafening cacophony of sounds. Another uneventful day in Carcassonne has begun.

Raengarde Galen, now 51 and plump as a fattened pig, pushed herself up in bed, her ears assaulted by the familiar noise. Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter I”

The Curse of the Trencavels – Prologue

Ermengarde de Foix
Chateau Comtal, Carcassonne
December 1066

 

She will kill herself today, she has decided. She made that decision while Uncle Raymond was still spurting his foul seed inside her, his eyes closed in blissful orgasm.

With just a few more thrusts, her daily descent to hell was over. Sex with Uncle Raymond was always a speedy affair; one of the very few things in life she’s still thankful for.

“You’re the only woman who can make my limbs tremble with so much pleasure, my dear.” Count Raymond-Bernard Trencavel, now standing beside the wooden bed and fully-clothed, smiled softly, the hint of suppressed lust still hovering over his quivering lips. Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Prologue”

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