Sarah’s Beast

Los Angeles California, the crowned jewel of the west. A place where anything is possible. A place of wealth, glamour and greed. An apocalyptic city built on the broken dreams of thousands of men and women looking to make their fortunes, looking for that brass ring, looking for the opportunity to walk a red carpet. If your lucky enough you can find its secrets, the keys to everything, the keys to POWER. Shunning a privileged life Sarah leaves the comforts of wealth. Embarking on a quest of self discovery, Sarah hopes to find an inner peace, a place for herself in the world. Lured by the beast that is Los Angeles, Sarah arrives and sets up roots, meets a man and has a child hoping to find her place in the world. But even with all this, she is empty, without love or empathy for those around her. Walking on Wilshire Blvd Sarah discovers a door to a small establishment, As she walks through, Sarah discovers a place of new wonders, a place of acceptance, a place with its own Gods. As Sarah starts her walk down the left hand path her quest for peace turns to a lust for power and control. A quest to rule with her God at her side. However there is a price for this type of power, will Sarah be able to make the necessary sacrifices? Will she find the love and acceptance of a God as old as time?

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Sarah's BeastBy Frank PurleAuthorHouseCopyright © 2017 Frank PurleAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-5246-5604-1CHAPTER 1"The Black Mass"Sarah stood behind the wooden beam where Derek had deposited her. The opium incense burned her lungs. While she waited for the ceremony to begin her eyes surveyed the many changes the musty basement had undergone. They rested upon the altar assaulted by the twisted loveliness, which prevailed that night. Since morning it had been trans formed from a mere platform into a glittering array of gold, velvet and candlelight. Black candles were everywhere, bathing the dais in flickering enchantment. Her gaze was captured by the hauntingly seductive crucifix hanging upside down on the back wall of the altar. It was a magnificent work of art. She estimated its length to be about six feet and its width four. The wood finish had been disproportionately stripped which left it an uneven, pale Yellow in color. The eye sockets and under cheekbones had been left the natural hew. The affect was startling as the candlelight flickered bits of light upon the face of Christ. His countenance appeared to twist itself into a hideous flow of comical sneers. He had the look of one who was immensely enjoying a private, dark joke. She stared at the sneering Christ for a long while, mesmerized. After some effort, her eyes left the haunting face and fell to the dais.On the left stood a delicately carved table draped in black lace. The candlelight reflected the brilliance of gold underneath. She knew this to be the sacrament table. The altar itself a good six feet long, commanded the center of the platform. It was covered now, draped in black velvet. But she remembered the strange table from the morning's festivities. It consisted of an ornately carved slab of oak, which rested upon the squatting legs of some indiscernible primate. The massive legs tapered gracefully to meet four equally exaggerated feet with jutting toes that gave way to fierce talons filed to a lethal point. It gave the look of being centuries old and infinitely wizened by the blood that stained its insatiable pores. She sighed at the remembered magnificence of the table. Yet, she had to admit it was successfully rivaled by the velvet cover that concealed it. Upon the overhanging portion of the covering was the embroidered likeness of Baphomet, the Old Horned God. Once again the work of a master craftsman showed through. The figure had the head and hooves of a goat and the torso of a man. Two long, contorted horns grew from its head, between them sat a large, black candle emitting volcanic-like flames. A gold pentagram interrupted its hairy forehead. The God's right hand pointed north while the left pointed south. The index finger of each hand drew attention to a crescent moon. Upon each forearm was a Latin phrase she could not yet decipher. The belly of the God was a silvery green with fish-like scales. Around his girth he wore a girdle of gold about which two serpents were inter twined. He was endowed with large, female breasts embroidered in a pale blue thread. His sexual organs, like a hermaphrodite, consisted of a penis as well as a vagina, both exaggerated. He sat cross-legged upon a cube, the symbol of four, the square and the foundation of all things. His hooves rested confidently upon the earth. Underneath this imposing needlepoint feat was the Latin phrase "AD MAJOREM SATANAE" embroidered in blood red. Sarah knew it to mean "to the greater Glory of Satan". Gazing at it, she had difficulty deciding whether the work was revolting or compelling. It undeniably stirred her deeply. Finally, she opted for compelling. The unblinking almond-shaped eyes seemed to mock her awe. At the same time they were inviting, daring her to taste the delicious fantasies of Hell. She was ready. But she knew tonight would not be the night.She stood in the darkness despising the fact that she could only observe. The congregation entered. Each member passed the portals of the furnace room and saluted one another with the raised, horned hand. They came skulking in, snarling, grunting, sniffing and emitting grossly exaggerated animal howls. They wore black velvet cloaks intricately embossed with demonic symbols and a hood-like mask representing the animal familiar with which each identified with most. There were snarling yellow dogs, wide — eyed cats, sumptuously bedecked roosters, colorful toads, rats with suggestively exaggerated snouts, crabs, spiders, and grinning, multi — colored snakes. The mask's expressions were frozen in perverted joy, as though each were enjoying the pitiful cries of its prey cowering before it. Sarah understood she was witnessing the predator's final leap to victory. She wondered when the time came which familiar she would choose. The grinning viper seemed to whisper a hiss at her. The sound tickled her ear and a wave of goose bumps traveled up her neck. Its long, flickering tongue strangely appeared to lash out to her in a heated instant. She found its multi-colors symbolic, for who was more chameleon like than she? She was many things to many people but she was never the real Sarah. Perhaps Derek knew her but she could not be sure that even he, the coven's High Priest, was capable of recognizing her true self. Was she capable of it? Sometimes. Other times a seething tide which she could not define swelled inside her somehow, obscuring herself from her own inner eye. It frightened and con fused her. But it also excited and challenged her. She understood that it had to be satisfied or controlled, or else she would be torn apart. The dilemma teased at her mind drawing her inward. Abruptly, Sarah shook her head forcing herself to focus back upon the matter at hand. Yes, she decided. When it came time to choose she would embrace the viper.The congregation approached the altar. Sarah could see their nakedness beneath their cloaks as they moved. Each body glistened with oil and sweat. In their excitement many of the men sported premature erections. Moisture left slug like trails upon the rich blackness of their garments. The women fingered themselves as they crouched and grunted toward the dais. Sarah clutched the wooden beam, its hardness comforting against her mounting desire. The atmosphere, made thick by the burning opium pots, and the sensual, guttural groans of the congregation made her weak with need. She shook her head violently fighting for clarity. Resting her head for a moment upon the beam she pried her fingers from the wood as she felt herself cool. But then there was Derek and all was lost; beautiful, magnificent Derek. High Priest extraordinaire, coveted to his god, shepherd of his flock, looking this night every inch the bridegroom. Two young men Sarah had never seen before led him into the room. They chanted monotonously as they swung their censors of opium before them. Their hoods were thrown back clearly revealing their faces. One was very tall with sandy hair curling along the nape of his neck attempting to capture an ear. His chubby companion was much shorter and was endowed with startling red hair. His face was a mesh of burnt orange freckles. To Sarah he looked rather ridiculous in this setting. He looked more suited to the muddy Mississippi as one of Twain's impish outcasts.Derek strolled down the aisle splendid in his aloof ness. The hushed congregation followed his every step with unabashed adoration and eagerness. Watching him, as always, caused a maelstrom of bewilderment, desire and awe to sweep through Sarah. Here was a man made splendidly; broad of shoulder, tapered waistline and smooth muscular thighs, which gave way to long, almost slender legs. His piercing sapphire eyes sat deeply in his dark face screaming of a wild animal vitality. Yet his countenance betrayed nothing but a peaceful indifference. The incongruity caused untold turbulence in everyone who gazed over-long upon him. His slender face was accented with the graceful arrogance of an aquiline nose and high, jutting cheekbones. His sensual mouth, with its soft, full lips, set itself carelessly in a condescending whisper of a smile. His fawn-brown hair waved and curled in uncontrollable masses about his shoulders and toppled forward, colliding with the disdainful arch of his brow. He walked down the aisle, his body erect, almost stiff. Yet he moved with the sensual, lithesome, uncaring grace of the untamed cat. He wore the gold and purple cloak of royalty about his shoulders. Gold, opulent serpents and gloating demons added embroidered brilliance to the deep purple velvet. His garment parted ever so slightly with each step revealing far too little and leaving every observer in the room with a desperate ache.He approached the platform and stood behind the embroidered altar. He slowly turned to his people and began to recite the incantation in a loud, resonant voice. It was the Lord's Prayer, only backward. During his litany, the animal congregation moaned and swayed in unison with his words. The droning monotone eventually died down and all eyes fell upon the door to the antechamber. Upon it was a painting of the Old Horned God all in red except for a tangled wreath of wildflowers angled nonchalantly upon his brow. The door opened. Derek's second-in-command, the fish-faced creature named Catherine, led out the woman Sarah knew to be Barbara. Sarah tried to calm herself. Barbara had been pre pared for this night. The witch had to be strong. But what if she wasn't? Catherine's words of that afternoon flooded back to her as she stared at the fragile woman on the dais."She will need every ounce of strength she can muster. Satan will be with us tonight, Sarah. Barbara will meet him tonight. She must receive him and receive him well or we'll all be in deep shit. She won't be the only one to face the consequences.""What do you mean?""Just what I said, Sweet cakes. We'll all pay. We're talking about big time stakes here now. Tonight is not going to be just a bunch of local yokels feeling each other up. It's the big time."God, how Sarah hated this vulgar bitch. She choked down bitter acid as it threatened to make her sick. Star ing at Catherine's tight, thin leer all Sarah could man age was a terse "Meaning?""We need her to marry the one and only Mr. Conrad Provine. I'm sure you've heard of him." Sarah shook her head. "No? Well, it's excusable since you're fairly new here in California. Conrad Provine happens to be the major stockholder and board president of an extremely powerful quasi — political computer corporation. It has branches all over the world but its main nucleus is right here in good old sunny California. Anyway, it's quite an ambitious endeavor for us all, even with someone as juicy as our Barbara. Needless to say, if we pull it off, it'll he quite a coup for Derek and the coven. Overnight we will achieve international recognition among our peers. Even more important, we'll have power, power and more power." Catherine released a long, slow sigh before she continued. "Unfortunately, all of this hinges on our pretty little Barbara.Sarah couldn't resist an acid "You don't approve?" Catherine ignored the jab. "My dear, it is not a matter of approving or disapproving. It's a matter of strength, fortitude if you wish. And Barbara certainly has neither. Oh, don't get me wrong; I'm quite fond of the dear, sweet girl. But, you see, that's the problem. She's too dear, too sweet and far too fragile for such an undertaking. Even if she survives tonight's test, which I seriously doubt, she will never know what to do with the power. No, the task is much more suited to a Machiavellian like myself." In response to Sarah's arched eyebrows she continued, "But I am also a realist. Unfortunately, our Mr. Provine would never, by any stretch of the imagination, be drawn to someone as homely as me."Sarah couldn't help it. She was in complete agreement. Although she thought she was being tactfully silent on the matter, she knew Catherine couldn't attract a gnat. She was a tall, thin woman with stringy blonde hair, which hung in greasy clumps behind her ears. She had a short, Chin that melted into a scrawny neck and which was completely overshadowed by her beak of a nose. Her eyes were large, moist and protruding like those of a frog, appearing far too large for their tiny sockets. When she blinked it was with a slow, sensual motion, which did not entirely cover her eyes. Consequently, she appeared to be ever watchful, an attribute which caused great consternation and discomfort among the other members. Her tight, thin mouth seemed to be permanently pinched into an attitude of disapproval. Under these circumstances Sarah knew it would be ridiculous for her to contest the point. Instead, her silence made Catherine defensive."Come off it, Sarah. I have no rosy delusions. I know how ugly I am. In most cases it simply doesn't matter. I was merely stating that, had I Barbara's looks or she my nature the scheme would have a much better chance at succeeding. As it is, well, like I said before, I doubt very much if she will even pass tonight's test, let alone go on to bigger and better things."Sarah couldn't help pushing her. "Why shouldn't she pass? I mean, Derek has told me all about the Black Mass and there doesn't seem to be anything all that difficult about it." At that Catherine threw back her head and laughed her husky, guttural laugh."I have no doubt, my friend, that when your time comes you will surpass us all. However, Barbara has not the stuff of which you and I are made. This week has been a perfect example. As you know from your studies, a witch must undergo arduous preparations in order to withstand the affections of our Dark Prince. And what does she do? She chooses the least demanding ordeal to endure. Even Derek could not dissuade her from it. When he suggested that more should be required of her, especially due to the importance of the occasion, What did she do but wring her hands and cry until even the great Derek gave in." At this she spat on the rough cement floor in contempt."No, the girl has no stamina, no self — discipline. She relented to fasting, but only under duress and then for only seventy-two hours. Plus, the stationary position she chose is the least demanding of all. I tell you, Sarah, it's disgusting. Such weakness has no such place here. All she could manage was to lay, naked, stretched out upon the floor with her arms over her head. The golden sword was then placed across her abdomen to signify Beelzebub's possession of her. Th at's about it. She merely had to re main in that position, silently, for three days without moving. And she couldn't even do that! After the first sixteen hours she had to be drugged because she wouldn't quit whining! Now I ask you, Sarah, is that a person who can satisfy Satan? I think not!""Well, I don't know, Catherine. I mean, I haven't the slightest idea what it's like, I mean, how difficult can it be? After all, Satan or no Satan, Derek is only human. Flesh is flesh. How strenuous can it be?" Catherine's disdain notwithstanding, she sneered, "Oh, Sarah, you have so, so much to learn. And learn it you will, of that I have no doubt.' Then her voice softened after a thoughtful pause." But within you burns aflame far brighter than any I've ever seen. You may not fully recognize it yet, but when you do, the ordeal will be Satan's, believe me. You feel it too don't you."Catherine's question was a statement; a verbal affirmation of the strange tide crashing relentlessly against Sarah's consciousness; an undefined surge of energy that would not let her rest. Yes, she felt it but she bristled to think that Catherine knew. She averted her eyes so Catherine would not be made privy to her rest less confusion. Yet, Catherine understood. No words were necessary between the two adversaries. They were the same. When Sarah did not reply Catherine continued."Let me tell you something, Sarah. You are part of a great design. One of which you cannot comprehend as yet. Even I, as Satan's consecrated handmaiden, cannot define it clearly and I've been around for a long time. But when the time comes we'll both be made to understand and the knowledge will make us strong enough to endure it. You will have many tests to face to earn your future, Sarah. One of them is the altar. Believe me, when you are upon the altar with Derek standing above you, flesh will not meet flesh. I promise you that, I know."Sarah immediately came to life. "You know what, Catherine? When Catherine only stared at her in return Sarah pleaded. Tell me. Come on ... Please?" The saying of please physically hurt her to say. She hoped Catherine hadn't noticed but very little ever escaped the fish-lady. Even so, she merely pursed her lips determined to say no more. (Continues...)Excerpted from Sarah's Beast by Frank Purle. Copyright © 2017 Frank Purle. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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