(This is a meaningless temporary title since this work was never finished)
by James McDuffie
Chapter 1:
He awoke to the vaugue light of morning. The pain that had kept him turning half the night had subsided. He had finally combated the pain with more pain and fogotten his ills to the sweetness of unconciousness. How many times had he carved a poem on his chest in an effort to memorize this lyric and feel pain’s sweet flavor. There are two kinds of pain and he had felt both the night before, one he enjoyed the other terrified him.
It is incredible that such a beast who looked like a character from a bad horror flick could be terrified, but yet there was that which kept him crying. Such was the pain of his alienation from other people who shunned him for his horrid deformaties. His skin was burnt from a narrow escape from a fire as a child. It looked as if he wore wrinkled leather.
A strange thing had happened from his burns as a child. He had learned to enjoy physical pain, it excited him. He would let blood and watch it drop into a glass and just as conciousness passed away he would drink his own sweet nectar.
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