129 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
129 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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the fallen
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The Devil closed his Book and stretched, allowing his fingertips
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to lightly touch the clouds. He assumed his Man Cloak and walked the
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streets of New York City, his favorite place to visit. With a practiced eye
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he studied junkies and whores, weighing their usefulness. He watched
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tattered children skulk in the shadows and likened them to his minions,
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adorable and afraid.
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There's one. He watched her sip from a chipped coffee cup,
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shivering in the bright warmth of an all-night diner. She wore chain mail
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and leather, and her arms were striped with razor scars. She was pale
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and brilliant, and he knew he could Use Her.
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"Mind if I sit with you for a moment?"
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She raised her eyes and took in the gothic stranger who had
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just swept in from the October chill. A capsule of cold air hung around
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him like a cape, and his black eyes glittered in the fluorescent lights.
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"Why not?"
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He nodded and suddenly he was sitting in the booth across from
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her, one swift smooth movement, graceful and feline. He removed his leather
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gloves, revealing unnaturally thin hands tipped with slightly pointed smoke
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colored fingernails. He ordered a cup of coffee from the wraith-like
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waitress and waited to see if she would speak.
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His coffee arrived, steaming and thick. She was looking at him,
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her large green eyes unwavering and only mildly curious. He smiled.
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"Do you hurt, Arya?"
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She did not flinch, and he was pleased. How rare it was to find
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such a human, accepting of things she could not understand. She calmly
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lit a cigarette and allowed the smoke to escape gently, like a veil
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obscuring the beauty of her face.
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"Sometimes. You?"
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He licked his lips in anticipation, tongue darting blackly. She would
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sign his Book on this night.
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"Always. But that is the way of the world, is it not?"
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She sat back, still holding her cigarette, and gazed at the 13 o' clock
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street clamor. She swallowed softly.
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"I don't think so. There is always hope."
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"Hope! How much hope did you have when you sliced your arms with
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that sexy razor? Did you pray to God to save you from this horrible world as
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your blood dripped softly on the bathroom tile?"
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The scars on her arms appeared to glow as he spoke, taunting her with
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their horror and despair. She paused for an eternity.
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"No. Did you pray to God when he threw you from Heaven and your
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angelic body cracked the earth with the weight of it's faithlessness?"
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His eyebrows quivered into the slightest of frowns. His form shimmered,
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and he had to concentrate for a moment to remain in his human form.
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"What do you mean?"
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She loomed forward, the silver of her chainmail shirt glittering. The
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cross at her throat dangled menacingly, and he shrank from her minutely.
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"Answer the question."
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"Yes, I prayed to God. He betrayed me. He would not Listen. I just
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wanted him to Hear me."
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She sat back again and nodded thoughtfully. He waited.
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"And so War was waged."
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"Yes, War. His filthy Angels sought to destroy me and the Others
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He threw. We had to fight back."
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Suddenly he was tired, and his shoulders drooped with the
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unconscious weight of remembering.
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"But..."
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She focused on him intently.
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"But I know now that I was wrong. This is why I have no hope,
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because I know He will never have me back. He will not Hear me."
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A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and he could hear
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the roar of his minions in Hell. An icy rain began to pour outside the
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instant his tear dropped to the table. He shivered.
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She stood slowly and dropped a five on the table. Smoothly she leaned
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over to him and kissed him on the cheek. Moving her lips to his ear, she
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whispered the Words he'd longed for for centuries.
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"Come Home to Me, Lucifer. I Forgive You."
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demonika
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demonika@demonic.com
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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= Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, Submissions =
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= Mail: jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) =
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= To receive new issues through mail, mail jericho@dimensional.com with =
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= "subscribe fuck". If you do not have FTP access and would like back =
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= issues, send a list of any missing issues and they will be mailed. =
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= AnonFTP FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK =
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= FTP.SEKURITY.ORG/pub/zines/fucked.up.college.kids =
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= FTP.GIGA.OR.AT/pub/hackers/zines/FUCK =
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= FTP.ETEXT.ORG/pub/Zines/FUCK =
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= WWW http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho =
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= http://www.reps.net/~krypt/fuck.html =
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= http://www.simunye.com/fuck =
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= http://www.dis.org/se7en/fuck =
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= (c) Copyright. All files copyright by the original author. =
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