A small snippet from Martuk … the Holy:  Proseuche, the sequel to Martuk … the Holy:

I cared not for them.

They wanted words of comfort.  Wise words.  Words that would guide them and still their nervous hearts and quiet their many fears.  They wanted their teacher and I wanted their blood.

I took the bread and shoved it in my mouth.  It was easier that way.  It stopped their annoying kindness and halted the screams waiting in my throat.

A great desert, I thought.  Yes, I wanted to be in a great empty desert far from life and people.  A desert where I could scream and sob and no one would care because I would be known to none.  A desert that could swallow me and my pain.

I looked at them again, these men.  Looked into their eyes and saw nothing.  Looked into their hearts and saw even less.

I wanted to go.

Take me away, my angels, I silently prayed as I chewed and chewed and chewed the bread, my fingers ripping away more and shoving the stale dough into my mouth.  Take me away from these people who know me not.  Take me far, far away.

Behind me, they stood.  The innocents sitting before me scrambled back at the sight of my angels, these winged ones.  Words were being said, but I listened not.  Perhaps there were tears, but I cared not.  I just wanted to be no more.

Take me, I begged, my voice and my tears and my rage silent and never ending.

Take me.

And they did, these angels, the world going dark as their wings closed around me and the disciples screamed.