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Full moon night

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wikk

Executioner
Hi to all,
This is big moment for, me because I decided to crate my first thread. I’m not sure if this place (stories and discussions) is suitable – if some of Moderators think that it should be moved somewhere, let it be done.
I’m decided to open this thread after encouragement of my great Friend form this Society. I know my English is not perfect and simplifies the emotions of my story (relation), originally written in my language.
If somebody has such need - attached pictures you can be used for manips...
 

wikk

Executioner
My dear Friend,

In my last message to you I promised, that next which I will send to you will be with gift. Now I would like to tell you what very interesting happened (about my experience) regard crux fantasy of course.

I will start with the fact that it was an extraordinary experience, even very unusual - that's why I decide to write about it to you who is somebody so important to me.

As you also know, in the past I have tried several times in a safe way to realize my fantasies connected with cross - so I have some experience in this regard. The last two years, however, were empty in this theme; additionally as always, despite sincere intentions I could not find a company (partners, dominant lady or some groups of interested people) with whom I could properly stage such a game. So I decided to do it myself this summer, in the best possible way, unique, most satisfying, in some sense also symbolic. It was supposed to concern both the place and the way of implementation, also my mental attitude.

I chose the time of the current hot summer and my vacation, assuming that I could devote even a few (two, four) days to it. The most important thing at the beginning was to find the right place - which, contrary to appearances, was one of the most difficult things, and (also not easy) the right material for cross construction. Here logistical reasons were decisive. After all, I wanted the place and the cross to be as close to my imagination as possible, which is (I can only repeat) extremely difficult in the country where I live. You know very well that in my fantasies the “ action” happens always in empty and stony area, under hot sun of ancient world and so close to city walls somewhere in provinces of Rome. How to find something at least little similar? How to create something similar to execution area under Roman city?

In fact, I found this place a year earlier, quite accidentally wandering around these areas, but seeing them, already then in my imagination "sparked" in the direction you know. It was in a sufficiently secluded place (middle of the forest), had a hillock, it had a dusty road just below it, was spacious, dry and sandy, giving the impression of wasteland as in my story, which you know, which you once read. Now I came back there after a year, and my soul felt that special thrill again. And I found the right wood, pulled it to this place and ... I did it – I built the cross. Yes! … with great effort I worked this abandoned old wood and made it real cross of it – high, on which one could really lose a man. Maybe not perfect - as in the drawings, graphics presented on the forum, but in this conditions close to it for my mind. I have also prepared more elements so that a place resembling the place of execution under the Roman city could be created. It took me several hours to prepare these elements, in addition I did it without eating from the morning (I only drank water), wanting to give it some special meaning for my imagination.

After all, these elements were ready. And all other things are thought out, so that when it comes to realization, there are no shortcomings, forgotten or distracting elements. That everything would be realized without the slightest interruption caused by the lack of any part resulting from the order of action, from the imaginary plan.

I prepared separated “whipping-place”, with a short "pillar" (tree trunk) for this, I left additional accessories there, including a "whip" from a thick rope, titulus with ready description, and an appropriately heavy beam as patibulum, a container with water that I was supposed to be "revived" after "whipping". I chose the path I was supposed to follow (a sandy forest road that sometimes turns into a sharp stone gravel that could hurt feet painfully), long enough, not at all flat. I found also place, where I should await my “execution” - equivalent of a prison cell. And there were all the small elements like armbands protecting hands, candles, even a red dye, with which I rubbed the "whip" string to leave red stripes on the body. I thought about all the elements, arranged the accessories, and the script was step by step in my head. The last element of was remaining – preparing of “execution area”. The cross was earlier assembled, laying somewhere in dry bushes. And I must here write that the assembling of this cross was a special feeling, because I was building a real tool of execution, with awareness, with the thought hidden in the back of my head, that I build it for myself. But a kind of shock was finally his vertical positioning, in this selected place, at the end of the preparations ... because then, in the evening when I set it up, he standing so amidst the other, curving pillars of the "place of execution" was just awesome, frightening.

Yes - everything was planned, at the end I put this cross vertical, surrounded by other elements ... was like a real one, big, on a hillock, with the sun setting after a hot day. I was looking at this place simply in shock and with fascination.

I placed these wooden elements in the evening, finally, so that they were just waiting for the right realization of my fantasy, so that they were just ready like the rest of things and places. I did it at the end and in the evening to minimize the possibility that someone would accidentally walk along this deserted road and come across such a strange and unpleasant, maybe scandalous place. The dark photo attached was from that moment - dark because of the simply camera I was using, not suitable for evening shooting).

I decided to do this right, terrible realisation in the middle of the night, believing that I would not meet anyone then, that nobody would accidentally appear there. There at night, in the middle of a large, desolate wasteland. And it was a full moon night. To it would be brighter ... and for a special atmosphere of such time.

I returned to the house rented on the edge of this forest, three hours left to realisation. I had doubts, there was also fear, subconscious. I slowly prepared myself, took a bath – and finally I went on the road. After so many days of planning, after two days of fasting, I set off on a bicycle in a dark, deserted forest, illuminated at times by a large, full moon coming out from behind the clouds. The night was warm, quiet, but the emotions associated with the journey were not small, now and then I even trembled in excitement. Fortunately, this area was well known to me, there are no dangerous animals in these forests, neither small nor large.

In the end I got to the place - to the starting point. I left my bike, took the necessary things, went where it was to start. I was all alone in this special place in the middle of the night. It was quiet, mysteriously, unusually. I sat on the edge of the sandy escarpment and prepared my psyche for what was to happen. Maybe it was even some form of meditation, maybe prayers? I wanted that here in this area, among the villages and fields, and where normally the cross is associated only with the one seen in the church - now, though for the moment, a cross was set up as if it were a real, maybe even blasphemous, showing for everything and for everyone around a young, real man, condemned and stretched out on him to his death. And this preparation of my psyche was probably the most important thing - feeling in, getting into the role, imagining that I really am 26 now, that I am to be here in a moment to be lost. It was an amazing feeling, indescribable, like a change of consciousness. …It probably happened then, for this short moment. In the light of this moonlit night.

I carried out the whole process of "crucifixion", retaining what was to follow the set scenario as if in the back of my head - I was after all alone. I did it myself, but I wanted to feel it and at least in part I felt as if someone else was doing it. I imagined someone telling me to go, kneel, undress ... do all I did. That someone hit me hard with hand on the face, head, my body ... but that’s I did it myself with my own hand. I "whipped" myself with one hand tied to the trunk, and I beat myself really hard. I carried a heavy patibulum along the road, running at times, rushed by the guards in my imagination, with a head tied with a rope (as in my story), with a titulus attached to my hips, rubbing painfully against my genitals, half-intentionally and semi-consciously I fell with a beam tied to my shoulders, hearing the laughter of people watching me in my head, and then with the greatest effort I got up and walked on further. I was all dirty and sore - really. My body really hurt, feet cut on the sharp stones of the road, even for a moment, walking, I was crying, not knowing whether it was real or fake crying. With this all, without my will and willingness, my penis was very enlarged, because earlier I deliberately took a potency tablet, wanting to be humiliated in this way, to be seen this way by the imagined witnesses of my "execution". I was really very weakened by the fasting, by my emotions, I felt this all with myself, it was so real. Finally, I arrived at the place of execution prepared in the evening and I was looking at it as if I saw it first time, speechless, really trembling. I watched this terrible cross lit by moonlight. And I was hung on it ... and Everyone was looking at me ...

My excitement, arousal, fear, shame, in part the pain - it was all! ... close to how it really was - in emotions, in my psyche - although I also know well that in a real case it would be incomparably more and more terrible.

I did not hang long - just up to several minutes - after all that was I felt that I had to go down, because soon I would not have the strength to free myself. Then I lay on the sand under my cross, slowly regaining my control over my consciousness. I dressed previously hidden clothes, pulled out of the ground the cross and carried it between the bushes together with other elements - eliminating the image of this place. Finally, extremely exhausted, I started coming home. To the real world. There are no more than two hours until dawn.

My Friend – this what I described - it really was an very, very amazing experience for me.
Yours.

PS.
The dark photo attached was done at evening, after dusk, but it wasn’t night. I see that on this photo the place is more looking like at middle of the night, as I reached it in my “last walk”.
 

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wikk

Executioner
Hello my Friend …
The photos presented below show the described place reconstructed one week after the described event. Reconstructed for a moment, to take these photos. There is also the cross itself, my patibulum and a fragment of the road I walked, even with a section with needle-sharp stones (part of a forest road being built). I did it to you be sure that it all rally happened …
 

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phlebas

PRIMUS POENUS
Staff member
The cross has this ability to capture us, draw us in, make us into something new, even if only for a short time. A crucifixion experience can be transformational, revealing, liberating (I know that sounds counter intuitive).

showing for everything and for everyone around a young, real man, condemned and stretched out on him to his death. And this preparation of my psyche was probably the most important thing - feeling in, getting into the role, imagining that I really am 26 now, that I am to be here in a moment to be lost. It was an amazing feeling, indescribable, like a change of consciousness. …It probably happened then, for this short moment. In the light of this moonlit night.

So Wikk experiences something of this, taken out of himself and placed in a new reality, really getting himself in the frame of mind and spirit to make the most of this adventure. Undertaking it in the depth of the night, while all around was dark and quiet, must have given the experience an added dream like quality.

All in all a remarkable account of dedication and fulfillment of a heartfelt desire. Thank you so much for sharing it with us.
 

wikk

Executioner
Thank you Phlebas very much for appreciation of my "story". And thank you to all who liked it.
Phlebas has summed it up so correctly. For me - a "civilized" resident of the city, it was not easy to decide on such a night trip.

From one side, it would be best to experience something like this during the day in the rays of the hot sun. But indeed the night gave it irresistible charm and something more than adventure. Maybe contact with the extrasensory, spiritual world ??
 

wikk

Executioner
Recently, reminding me what happened in this memorable for me last August, looking at photos from that time I intuitively scribed few words, which seemed me to be a “poem” alike (at least in my language). Because on this forum there are only few attempts for poems writing by male part of forum-members – I tried to translate it and show in this thread, also in form you see. I put this here as some kind of curiosity … with intention to end this small, true history …

I did it …

.. now going there, and it's so close …

my execution place, in a lonely place,
but not afar from the road,
if you want you can hear quiet sound of cars moving …

I wanted see it, with my own eyes …
a place for criminals, with old bones and skulls there,
with terrible poles, crosses protruding into the sky …

But where to find it? ...
.. somewhere outside of my poor mind inside …

I did it, alone,
I - a man of today,
It was my best, the effort of my hands,
… maybe without crows,
… without their shadows over the old skulls moving
...
But few skew stipes, crooked wood of rude crosses …
are staring into the bright sky of full sun today,
Dangerous …
… strangely alien in this peaceful, civilized world ..

That in the middle … the biggest, the highest …
menacingly and ominously … staring at me
said .. .. I want my decoration …
everything here see me with afraid .. you will decorate me …
.. the blue sky see my holy brothers in this land’s churches …,
Now sinfully will see me here …
Dressed …

As gift for the moon …

And climbing on him sobbing,
I begged in my head ..
Please do not kill me,
Let them see you decorated with me ..
Please do not kill me …

As gift for the moon …
 

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messaline

Crucified Amazon
But indeed the night gave it irresistible charm and something more than adventure. Maybe contact with the extrasensory, spiritual world ??
You're right ... A crucifixion is not only a thing that we do like a vital requirement ( to eat for example ) but also a research of communication with what we've deeply in us , with our deepest feelings and sensations , with our true nature ... That is why we cant explain that to no-practising people : I could say that we need to feel ourself like "called" by a kind of intimate strength ...
Continue your experiences , I'm sure that you'll extract of them a wonderful ecstasy ...
 

phlebas

PRIMUS POENUS
Staff member
It was my best, the effort of my hands,

it comes from a deep place, you had to answer the call, answer the question "what would it feel like?" We are driven to extraordinary lengths sometimes to fulfill our desires and needs, and you have done so brilliantly here Wikk. This experience of yours will be a source of inspiration to you for a long time, and a call to further experience, living those dreams that you have.

Continue your experiences , I'm sure that you'll extract of them a wonderful ecstasy ...

Agreed!
 

wikk

Executioner
Thank you all for the likes and appreciation. And once again to Messaline and Phlebas for their words.

I can only say again that it at night was such an amazing experience for me that I wonder if it can happen again. If - it certainly won't be the same ...
 

wikk

Executioner
I wrote a text in my native language that seemed good to me. And I wanted to share it on the forum with its participants. In my language it was even "poetic", "romantic" and with rhymes.
After translating with the help of uncle Google (oh, my lack of talent for foreign languages) it all was lost. But despite that I decided to publish - don't laugh, please ...



Foggy night of full moon

I woke up ... and she was standing there ... a girl...
Stranger, beautiful ... how bold! ...
Her staring eyes dark look so penetrating
woke me up - yes ... but I wasn't afraid,
Her ... Stranger here ... Stranger ... in my Lord's house ...
and I thought nothing, staring at her ... when she left,
I knew - I must follow her!
In silence, through the city dormant ... at night, covered with strange fog ...

And I walked - covered only with my canvas,
Bare feet paving stones feeling ..
Cold, in narrow streets ... looking for her ...
Her black hair, skin brightness, brightened from afar.
For a moment, for a moment ...
Her shadow on the walls ... made by the moon,
For a short, fleeting moment ...
That let me know where ... when the voice in my head said - follow her ...
Follow me …

Her dark eyes pierced thoroughly,
In the middle of the night I was walking ... in the fog, in my sleepy, quiet city ...
Down, shabby narrow streets, stone pavement,
Through this city's gate, open ... open?
Outside, into a stone desert, so terrible
Where the voice of a jackal, a wild dog, a roar of a lion in the distance,
in the desert at night hostile ...
..
But no, quiet, it’s quiet ... and the fog envelops everything.
..
Her silhouette in the distance,
canvas covering her, moon light bleached, silver ...
Dark hair, dark eyes - attracting me,
from afar, still staring at me! ..
I go ... I go ... sharp stones, my feet prickly ... to her
...
Quiet, cold fog at night, which envelops everything,
Silence, fog, moonlight, time that I don't know, I don't know anything
and in this silence my breath is uneven, my heart beats in shyness ...
She ! ... in front of me, so close, and the canvas that covers her so transparent ...
the outline of her legs, hips, breasts ... inside me her dark looking eyes!
Beautiful ... Beautiful ... Beautiful ...
..

The Girl,
The Stranger ...
..
Her hand takes me in delicate touch
And I am delighted to follow her
by a dark-haired girl woven from fog, so ethereal,
led by her ...
..
Her eyes are dark, her dress is transparent ...
in the fog, in silence, at night, in the moonlight of faint light ...
I would like to embrace her, touch her ... I want to kneel down ...
... but at a wooden, smooth pole, in the silence of that night,
I kneel in the dark,
And I embrace this pole with my hands ... and naked ... I'm naked ...
my nakedness I feel so suddenly, so clearly,
in tonight's chill and fog touch, naked
I can still see her in front of me, the outline of her legs, hips, breasts ...
her dark eyes are still on me ... her carmine lips
I want to kiss
to kiss ...

... but when I kneel, I this pole with my arms embrace, my lips kiss it,
and her voice quiet and calm ... Her girlish voice, kind ... it's your lover, my boy ...
in this cold fog, in this night, in this silence ...
...
Owls a shrill, sudden voice, my heart scares! ...
fog scattered by the wind, moonlight bright,
And the pole and the arms of the cross above me ... a terrible gallows! ...
The bones and sculls between the stones white, the voice of the jackal,
the wolf of the night, in the distance, in the desert,
his howl so menacing ...
.. My scream!

... I wake up, ... the middle of the night ... I sit on a bunk in my room ... my heart in fear beating ... A nightmare ... a terrible dream ...

A nightmare of a young slave, in a distant province of Rome ...
 

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messaline

Crucified Amazon
The problem, when we use of a translator, is that we have to review the text to well see that it effectively translates what we want to say ... It's , of course, that we could have a minimum of understanding of the language ; from time to time, I do like that, but in any case we can blindly trust these translators ...
So, the best manner is to learn more and more the foreign language that we wish to use ... ;)
 

wikk

Executioner
Thank you very much for your likes. And to you, Messaline for your words, but reading it I began to suspect that my text - this translation - was not particularly successful :)

But for me it is problem - like many people in this forum, I write my texts from my heart, sincerely, about my own emotions. In fact I write for myself first - and that is why even writing in my own language there are big dilemmas how to write, which words are best for the moment, situation and emotions.
Because the point is for the flexible tongue to say what the head thinks …

At the end, sometimes, I have text which is good in my opinion - good for me, for this need which made me to write. Even - as I think - fantastic, very good !
And of course when I/we have such good texts, (oh, I know - maybe only in my/our own opinion) , we want to share them with others!
And it starts the fight with translation of something what was so sophisticated in your native. And it is very hard task because the point is the deep feeling of the language. So translating is interpreting and maybe better would be to write in foreign language from beginning - but then you don't have those emotions (when you are writing first for yourself).

And sometimes you have also no time in R.L. for learn more and more English.
(for me personally - the best and practical way for English learning is to be on this forum and to write such text how now …)

Summing up this so long speech - I suppose that my presented text is only “skeleton” from idea I had … but I wanted to share it on Forum :)
And I plan to continue .. :devil:

yours
 

Eulalia

Poet Laureate
Staff member
Fear not Wikk - I think your writing is very moving, it conjures strange, shadowy images and troubled emotions.
There are some phrases and clauses that aren't in 'standard English', they don't spoil it at all for me,
part of the power of poetry is 'making strange' what seems flat and too familiar if you follow ordinary grammar.
I hope you write more and turn it into English - I'm not sure if your language is one I know,
but I enjoy helping writers polish their translations and making sure the English expresses what they really mean,
so if you do write more, and would like me to see your draft, send me a PM.
 

Jollyrei

Angelus Mortis
Staff member
Well written Wikk!! It has almost a 19th century cadence in the prose, which gives the piece a mysterious and romantic atmosphere. I don't know if that is the way you intended, or if it is a product of translation, but it is very effective and works well. Many thanks, and do keep writing if you feel moved to do so.
 

phlebas

PRIMUS POENUS
Staff member
Fear not Wikk - I think your writing is very moving, it conjures strange, shadowy images and troubled emotions.
There are some phrases and clauses that aren't in 'standard English', they don't spoil it at all for me,
part of the power of poetry is 'making strange' what seems flat and too familiar if you follow ordinary grammar.
I hope you write more and turn it into English - I'm not sure if your language is one I know,
but I enjoy helping writers polish their translations and making sure the English expresses what they really mean,
so if you do write more, and would like me to see your draft, send me a PM.

This is exactly my feeling. When asked to help with someone's English I am reluctant to lose the poetry that comes from a non native speaker, the unique forms of expression that can be quite beautiful, and often can give us a sense that we have entered a different world, a world where such things as crucifixions could well take place.
 

wikk

Executioner
Hi to all, after long time of break. The text I have decided to post below is an introduction to two larger stories that are of my personal fantasies. Perhaps this small story is not great and will not interest anyone - but I am also posting it for myself, in order to encourage myself to complete the above-mentioned larger whole, significant to me. At the same time, with this introduction-story, I wanted to show my fascination with the works of Bobinder (Bobnearled), a great artist, thanks to which the figure of his favourite model, Alice, became for me the embodiment of a muse that inspired me, accompanying me whole time when I was creating parts of this larger story… (still unfinished unfortunately)…


„Promise”

Prolog​

And it was also supposed to be a short performer. Just the two and me. Somewhere in the museum building - they worked here. A short performer and another part of her term paper - that's what she told me. And she studied the history of painting. I was thrilled. I was afraid.

November evening, it gets dark quickly, the lights of street lamps, already less numerous cars, sounds of the city and the sound of trams carrying far away. The Art Nouveau façade of the museum is illuminated with subtle light, directed at stylized stars, masks of tritons, lions and nymphs.

I enter through the main door, large and heavy, normally closed at this hour. Closing cuts off the sounds of the city. The semi-darkness illuminated by the duty-room lamp, from which the old and vigilant porter-woman says that the assistants are waiting for me, that I should go to the end of the left wing of the ground floor. I walk down a long corridor there, a wide, polished stone floor, the lights are out, the darkness is broken only by fire lighting, only the light at the end of the corridor indicates the purpose of my journey. I am uneasy, ashamed. I don't really know what to expect. I'm doing it for her. A bit shorter than me, rather small, green-eyed, with a round, childish face - usually smiling and kind - but also so mysterious, enigmatic ... and still keeping me at bay. I met her only a few times, we had coffee five or six times ... I'm under her spell, I'm fascinated with her, I'm adoring her ... But she can change in an instant from a funny and kind interlocutor into someone who hates any opposition, with such a threatening and cold look .. I'm afraid of her like that - but ... and she's so pretty ...

In the darkness and silence of the corridor, I hear only the sound of my steps, I pass the now black entrances to the halls with thematic exhibitions - European painting, eighteenth, nineteenth century - this is where I saw her for the first time. I slowly come to the last illuminated door, a small vestibule, with a bench, simple armchairs… there are two. She and that unknown for me lady - her old friend, mentor? ... slender and tall, both taller than me ... in dark, straight dresses, in high-heeled shoes ... each different, not only in age, but similar in some incomprehensible way ...

- Hello .. good evening - I say first .. quietly, in a hidden form of embarrassment, timidly .. Silence .., the atmosphere of suppressed anxiety beating in me on all sides, but maybe it's just my concern. She and her friend, both look at me, pierce me with their eyes, the smile on face the older one - Good evening, I'm glad you came ... - her voice is serious and calm, she feels at home, she feels confident, self-righteous, flashes of light are reflected in her glasses, splits into the colors of the rainbow ... - Hi, it's good that you are here, I knew you would not be late ... - says she, - it will be fun to do it, right?, are you ready? .. her voice soothes me, - Oh he is, for sure, restless, but ready ... as he always was, ... and what is not done for art, right? - the older one tries to break the embarrassing mood, smiles again ... now you will not run away, will you? .. I pour you some water, will you drink? .. - Yes, gladly - I answer ... how does she know about it? ... did she tell her ?! …

I drink the water given, but it's a little relief. I feel weird, a bit like an exam, afraid to make a fool or do something stupid in front of them. The intimidation and anxiety do not pass, it even intensifies, the sound of our voices carries strangely along the dark, empty corridor, I take off my jacket and put it on the armchair - .. it will be fun, you will see .. you are great for it .. and you will help me .. she says .. - I sit opposite her, I look into the depth of her green eyes, the white smoothness of the skin of her face, the beauty of red lipstick, in her ears she has silver earrings in the shape of crescent moon - I have not seen them yet, on her neck, as always, a necklace with this little the horseshoe pointing downwards ...

... "you're great for this" ... she said the same thing then ... I think? ... a dream, oh yes, ... - your shirt and trousers are okay, you probably have remembered the rest too ?, ... I hear her say, precise, she knows exactly what she wants … her face is charming, I couldn’t take my eyes off her … - Remember the scenario - when he says this, he gives me a folded piece of paper, … concentrate and come ready, ... we will be in the other room, you will come in and we will start immediately .. the camera is waiting there and you will start your role, I will lead you ... … I know it's hard for you, but you have to try now, don't spoil it! .. - her voice became firm, not bearing any objection. I didn't think it could be that again .. categorical, strict, I forgot how quickly it can change!

The intimidation is back in double form, I know I can't back down now. Her mentor looks at me in silence, looks at me as an interesting object, as if next of many in this building, in museum ... After a while, however, she adds more gently .. - I really appreciate you doing it for me .. .. you fit this project, you fit it .. and you know that I will pay you back .. I like you after all .. and if you do not want to, you can also give it up .. I will understand ... - her voice gradually lowered to a sweet whisper, a mysterious half-smile adorned her face and I lowered my head under that gaze. She stood up, and the sight of her white leg exposed in the slit of her dress, exposed from the foot to her flawless thigh, stopped my thoughts, the contours of her slender body bulged under her dress framed by the flash of my gaze ...

She sent me that mysterious smile of hers .. that look that delighted me so much, that seduced me so much ... that charmed me so much ...

- Be ready when you come .. and don't make us wait long - we both have a lot to do today ... - the older woman said, both of them left the room, leaving the door half-open, from where the light illuminated the vestibule in which I stood with folded paper in my hands .. .. the half-open door opened to the master's colorful paintings ... "The Flight of Witches", "Woodcutters" ... Originals or reproductions? I didn't consider it ...

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"The Flight of Witches" and "Woodcutters"

***​
 
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