Other Fan Fiction ❯ Nymphetamine ❯ Nymphetamine ( One-Shot )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Cellar_Door 
A quick songfic based on Cradle of Filth's Nymphetamine
Miscellaneous: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 01.12.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 529 | Status: Completed
A quick songfic based on Cradle of Filth's Nymphetamine
Miscellaneous: Other Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 01.12.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 529 | Status: Completed
Lead to the river
Midsummer, I waved
A 'V' of black swans
On with hope to the grave
All through Red September
With skies fire-paved
I begged you appear
Like a thorn for the holy ones
This day she awaited since she was a little girl. It was her time, she was to become a true woman, accepted in the eyes of the church and the community. The sound of gentle flapping forced her to look upward. A flock of birds graced the skies, their black appearance against a bright red sky from the setting sun was a stab to her heart. Two things so different but looked so beautiful together. He wouldn't be there with her today, she knew this. If she were to become who she needed to be, he could not be apart of her life, something her father, the priest, made very clear. Looking behind her as a hand was placed on her shoulder, her father gave a small smile. But no comfort it gave the young woman. He led her to the water. It was cold and unwelcoming. Her father spoke, but she did not hear him. Her mind was elsewhere, thinking of her love left behind. Slowly she was dipped into the water for a brief second as a child, reemerging as a woman. It was complete. A smile warmed her face but not her heart.
Cold was my soul
Untold was the pain
I faced when you left me
A rose in the rain
So I swore to thy razor
That never enchained
Would your dark nails of faith
Be pushed through my veins again?
He was alone. She... She was the only thing he lived for. But now here he was. Alone. Cold. Left with nothing but a razor. For days he stared at it from across the room. It called him, tormented him with comfort and warmth when there was none left in this world. On the third day, her special day, he could not take it anymore. If he were not to be with her, he could not be with anyone ever. The first slice was not deep at all but drew blood, and quickly. It trickled down his arm, dripping slowly on the floor. It was... Warm, soothing. His heart rate quickened, driving the razor down his arm several times for until... The blade dropped, unable to keep his grip on it any longer. The male drew in a deep breath, hoping it was his last. The door to his cabin flew open, the wind from the cold night blowing out his candle. Death is not the end, simply another beginning.
Bared on your tomb
I'm a prayer for your loneliness
And would you ever soon
Come above unto me?
For once upon a time
From the binds of your lowliness
I could always find
The right slot for your sacred key
She was not supposed to be there, being forbidden by her father. But how could she not? She was the one that drove him to such a mad fate. Her face was covered, to both hide her identity and her shame. Her father refused to perform the ceremony, having his second from the church do it for him. Coward. Few people were there, not many knew her love, but she did. She knew everything about him, and a piece of her was with him in the darkness of the coffin. A soft pale hand found its place on the blackened wood. There was... Something different. Was he not dead? He was cold, sheet white, lips blue. He was dead, but not gone. With a sharp inhale, she torn herself from her mad thoughts, rushing from the coffin... Away to anywhere but there.
Six feet deep is the incision
In my heart, that barless prison
Discolours all with tunnel vision
Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
Sick and weak from my condition
This lust, this vampyric addiction
To her alone in full submission
None better
Nymphetamine
His body did not move, would not move. He was cold but did not shiver, teeth never chattered. As they lowered him into the ground, he made not a sound. All he did was think. Think of her, focus in on her beautiful face, honey blond hair, sky blue eyes. No matter how hard he tried to move his thoughts, they always came back to her. His love... His only. The heart that no longer beat belonged only to her. His eyes shot open. He felt weak, ill... Dead. But he needed to be with her, to find her. He became enraged, he needed her. This coffin, the soil, not even death could not keep him from his one love.
Wracked with your charm
I am circled like prey
Back in the forest
Where whispers persuade
More sugar trails
More white lady laid
Than pillars of salt
Fold to my arms
Hold their mesmeric sway
And dance her to the moon
As we did in those golden days
There he found her, alone in the forest. The female sat on her knees, face in her palms. The black dress she wore was torn from the barbs of the forest. But he did not make his presence known. He stuck to the shadows, walking silently in a large circle around her, drinking her in from all angles. What would he say? Would he be angry that she left? Or would she be relieved that he was once dead but somehow alive? The bigger question... Was she crying because of him? Never would he want her tears to fall because of him. As he took a step forward, a twig snapped, forcing her to look up. The moonlight fell upon him, clearly visible now. The female stood, arms open wide. Was this a dream? Was this real? Had her love returned to the world of the living. She cared not, only that he was alive. Quickly he stepped to her, taking her loving in his arms. She was so warm and soft, just as he remembered. He swung her around, dipping her low to the ground. His mouth opened slightly, needing to say those words to her ears once again.
A gunshot. The familiar trickle of warm blood. Looking down, blood stained his pale hand. Not his blood. Looking at the face of his beloved again, her features were wracked with pain. He laid her down quickly, taking her hand, shaking his head. She could not leave him again, not like this. His dark eyes quickly adverted to a man. A simple man. A weak man. Her father, a hand pistol shaking in his hand. He let out an angry growl, taking no time to pin the man to the ground. He did not think only act. Sharpened teeth sunk into his neck, tearing, shredding, biting... Drinking. It took only mere moments before he had slain his first victim.
A sick gurgling sound caught his attention. His beloved. Again, he was back at her side as the bullet that was meant for him slowly took her life away from her. The two stared into each other's eyes until a gray veil stared to claim her once bright eyes. Her mouth opened, tongue forming a sound as she tried to speak her last words. Nothing. His beloved was gone.
Slender fingers traced her lips. She was about to say it... The words he longed for her to repeat to him... But they were stolen from her lips. Others were coming, no doubt to investigate the sound of the gun this late at night. He could not leave her, not again. His lips pressed against her now cold lips.
"I love you"
Midsummer, I waved
A 'V' of black swans
On with hope to the grave
All through Red September
With skies fire-paved
I begged you appear
Like a thorn for the holy ones
This day she awaited since she was a little girl. It was her time, she was to become a true woman, accepted in the eyes of the church and the community. The sound of gentle flapping forced her to look upward. A flock of birds graced the skies, their black appearance against a bright red sky from the setting sun was a stab to her heart. Two things so different but looked so beautiful together. He wouldn't be there with her today, she knew this. If she were to become who she needed to be, he could not be apart of her life, something her father, the priest, made very clear. Looking behind her as a hand was placed on her shoulder, her father gave a small smile. But no comfort it gave the young woman. He led her to the water. It was cold and unwelcoming. Her father spoke, but she did not hear him. Her mind was elsewhere, thinking of her love left behind. Slowly she was dipped into the water for a brief second as a child, reemerging as a woman. It was complete. A smile warmed her face but not her heart.
Cold was my soul
Untold was the pain
I faced when you left me
A rose in the rain
So I swore to thy razor
That never enchained
Would your dark nails of faith
Be pushed through my veins again?
He was alone. She... She was the only thing he lived for. But now here he was. Alone. Cold. Left with nothing but a razor. For days he stared at it from across the room. It called him, tormented him with comfort and warmth when there was none left in this world. On the third day, her special day, he could not take it anymore. If he were not to be with her, he could not be with anyone ever. The first slice was not deep at all but drew blood, and quickly. It trickled down his arm, dripping slowly on the floor. It was... Warm, soothing. His heart rate quickened, driving the razor down his arm several times for until... The blade dropped, unable to keep his grip on it any longer. The male drew in a deep breath, hoping it was his last. The door to his cabin flew open, the wind from the cold night blowing out his candle. Death is not the end, simply another beginning.
Bared on your tomb
I'm a prayer for your loneliness
And would you ever soon
Come above unto me?
For once upon a time
From the binds of your lowliness
I could always find
The right slot for your sacred key
She was not supposed to be there, being forbidden by her father. But how could she not? She was the one that drove him to such a mad fate. Her face was covered, to both hide her identity and her shame. Her father refused to perform the ceremony, having his second from the church do it for him. Coward. Few people were there, not many knew her love, but she did. She knew everything about him, and a piece of her was with him in the darkness of the coffin. A soft pale hand found its place on the blackened wood. There was... Something different. Was he not dead? He was cold, sheet white, lips blue. He was dead, but not gone. With a sharp inhale, she torn herself from her mad thoughts, rushing from the coffin... Away to anywhere but there.
Six feet deep is the incision
In my heart, that barless prison
Discolours all with tunnel vision
Sunsetter
Nymphetamine
Sick and weak from my condition
This lust, this vampyric addiction
To her alone in full submission
None better
Nymphetamine
His body did not move, would not move. He was cold but did not shiver, teeth never chattered. As they lowered him into the ground, he made not a sound. All he did was think. Think of her, focus in on her beautiful face, honey blond hair, sky blue eyes. No matter how hard he tried to move his thoughts, they always came back to her. His love... His only. The heart that no longer beat belonged only to her. His eyes shot open. He felt weak, ill... Dead. But he needed to be with her, to find her. He became enraged, he needed her. This coffin, the soil, not even death could not keep him from his one love.
Wracked with your charm
I am circled like prey
Back in the forest
Where whispers persuade
More sugar trails
More white lady laid
Than pillars of salt
Fold to my arms
Hold their mesmeric sway
And dance her to the moon
As we did in those golden days
There he found her, alone in the forest. The female sat on her knees, face in her palms. The black dress she wore was torn from the barbs of the forest. But he did not make his presence known. He stuck to the shadows, walking silently in a large circle around her, drinking her in from all angles. What would he say? Would he be angry that she left? Or would she be relieved that he was once dead but somehow alive? The bigger question... Was she crying because of him? Never would he want her tears to fall because of him. As he took a step forward, a twig snapped, forcing her to look up. The moonlight fell upon him, clearly visible now. The female stood, arms open wide. Was this a dream? Was this real? Had her love returned to the world of the living. She cared not, only that he was alive. Quickly he stepped to her, taking her loving in his arms. She was so warm and soft, just as he remembered. He swung her around, dipping her low to the ground. His mouth opened slightly, needing to say those words to her ears once again.
A gunshot. The familiar trickle of warm blood. Looking down, blood stained his pale hand. Not his blood. Looking at the face of his beloved again, her features were wracked with pain. He laid her down quickly, taking her hand, shaking his head. She could not leave him again, not like this. His dark eyes quickly adverted to a man. A simple man. A weak man. Her father, a hand pistol shaking in his hand. He let out an angry growl, taking no time to pin the man to the ground. He did not think only act. Sharpened teeth sunk into his neck, tearing, shredding, biting... Drinking. It took only mere moments before he had slain his first victim.
A sick gurgling sound caught his attention. His beloved. Again, he was back at her side as the bullet that was meant for him slowly took her life away from her. The two stared into each other's eyes until a gray veil stared to claim her once bright eyes. Her mouth opened, tongue forming a sound as she tried to speak her last words. Nothing. His beloved was gone.
Slender fingers traced her lips. She was about to say it... The words he longed for her to repeat to him... But they were stolen from her lips. Others were coming, no doubt to investigate the sound of the gun this late at night. He could not leave her, not again. His lips pressed against her now cold lips.
"I love you"