Letter appearing on all Underground chat-boards and Groupie forums.
To the so-called Undergroupies.
You don’t know me – though I am sure in your youthful Gen-Y arrogance you all presume that you already do.
And why not, when my Family has waved much of my dirty laundry about in front of your faces under the guise of entertainment? Astounding, the lengths they would go to, just to keep you amused.
My name is Belladonna Black.
That is all you need to know and all I will give you. I am here to call you to account. A long time ago, someone told you that you had to grow up…clearly, none of you got the memo. The Adult Playground that you so lovingly covet is just that…an ADULT playground. It is not a place for your petty alpha wars, your sycophantic need to congregate with other societal rejects…read: it is not a high school or some pitiful medieval re-enactment orgy where you can dress up in clothes that don’t suit you and wave around weapons big enough to replace the lack of such size in your genitalia and/or breasts.
We have things to discuss, you and I…things being your continued attendance in the world left to us by one Jasper Baelian Black. Our world. MY world. For over a year you have played, schmoozed, fed, wallowed in squalor and made a nuisance of yourselves within the Burlesque Underground. Some of you have come into the ‘good graces’ of the family. Some of you were perhaps lucky enough to make it into their hearts…or their beds. Or both.
I shall not beat around the bush…it is time to pay up. This world was created for a reason…it is to leave a lasting legacy far greater and more resonating than anything you, in your petty little minds, could ever conceive of imagining. This world will change lives. This world already has.
You, my dears, have not. You have remained the same vampiric, feeding, squalling open-mouthed babes languidly shouting ‘feed me Seymour’ in the corners. Your attendance as of late has been more than lax – though in my eyes a lack of Undermice within a kingdom can only be a good thing – and your dedication to my Family in their hour of need is, in a word, pathetic. We are looking for subjects, you see…libertines and decadent folk who will lead the charge into a new era of sexual liberation by setting an example of self-sufficiency, resourcefulness, self-preservation AND dedication to a cause beyond the lowly gratification of self. More than that – we seek those who would die for us…those who understand the creed ‘Family is all,’ those who have been to Hell and back and have lived to tell the tale…who possess a willingness to tell it to others with no thought for themselves and what it will get them.
Your King is dead, your Queen falters…yet you do nothing. You show no loyalty, no dedication…like rats from a sinking ship you run. Like children bored with a broken toy you toddle off to find something new to feed the black hole of your souls. Understand this…if you understand nothing else. A reckoning is coming…and I am that reckoning. You have three weeks. After that, we will be redrawing the Family boundaries, rebuilding our walls. We will stock the moat with piranhas and the drawbridge will be raised. Those nearest and dearest to us shall remain within the folds and be elevated to a status befitting of their efforts.
The rest of you…well…let’s just say you shouldn’t bother coming back, for you will be no more significant to us than the dirt on the bottom of my Father’s shoes.
I do so look forward to meeting you all…watching you try and fail to ascend to any greater state of being. Your beloved King, the cherub with the blue eyes…he watches also. As does the rest of my Family. They hold greater hope for you than I do. I am merely going to enjoy you proving me right.
They say you can recognise your friends easily in times of crisis…they are the ones you can count on one hand who lift you up when you falter…even at the risk of their own safety. I very much doubt any of you shall fall into that category.
But we shall see.
All characters and story lines remain the property of N.Ristovski and the Underground. All character writings within the Underground are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013. Natalie Ristovski.