The Book of Sara: Mark VII - The Burned Book
The house became a shuttered vault. Sara emerges bruised into the morning chill, carrying the charred binding snatched from the grate. In Deanna’s basement, under an oath sworn upon living blood, Abigail unseals the ancient truth: the first tyrant, the seaside city cast into the deep, and the unburnt prophecy of the Black Flame.
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We covet our rites. We have fun. We do not hate. For one night the flesh is sovereign in the name of Goddess Alyssa as the Order as a whole.
The Book of Sara: Mark VI - The First Stone
The hall emptied. She did not go after the crown. The woods pulled like a second locker. She brought the book.
The Book of Sara: Mark V - The Walk
Morning after the naming. The book went under the pillow. The hall still had a throne in it. She did not go after the crown.
The Path We Walk
Sovereignty. Release. Return. The fundamental path of Satanican culture. Not a demand to empty yourself while you are still walking.
The Walk Home
A short story of how the mundane doesn’t have to be mundane.
The Book of Sara: Mark IV - The Naming
Hazelwood, under the dead white light. Abigail sits beside Sara and names the night without making Sara build it in the air. Deanna’s blade comes up. On the steps the throne cracks and does not fall. That night the leather book opens.
The Book of Sara: Mark III - The Record
The house on the walk home had stopped. A dead woman’s name, a record on the shelf, a clock that would not move. Sara answers both names because refusing the wrong one makes the walls smaller. Abigail does not fix the house. She comes so Sara is not the only one who knows what the song cost.
The Book of Sara: Mark II - The Lockers
Abigail walked Adam’s street in the year they numbered 1986. She was not enrolled. She was not a girl among girls. She appeared in a house of bells and fluorescent light called Hazelwood West, wearing the long black dress the surface would tolerate, barefoot as the rite requires. At a corner table sat five the school had already discarded. One of them was named Sara. This book is hers.
Ivory Without Psychology: An Abigail Short
Chopin in the flesh. No formula. No psychology. Ivory that does not recruit.
The Book of Sara: Mark I - The Table
Abigail walked Adam’s street in the year they numbered 1986. She was not enrolled. She was not a girl among girls. She appeared in a house of bells and fluorescent light called Hazelwood West, wearing the long black dress the surface would tolerate, barefoot as the rite requires. At a corner table sat five the school had already discarded. One of them was named Sara. This book is hers.