The fateful auction, the night of my ignominy, held in the basement of a seedy nightclub on the bad side of town, a place of uneducation and low morals; A basement unseen, alive in ultra-violet darkness. By day, a bordello catering to immoral acts performed by sweating, grunting, sex-crazed degenerates. By night, a dance floor and auctionarium for the jaded, the under-whelmed, the disinterested. A blasé so blasé, comprehension neared impossibility, a tangent of life.
By chance, lot 42 stood in my intended plight, my place. An undistinguished man wearing pince-nez, imperial side-whiskers and cocky Prince Albert demeanor. In that glimpse, a dread realization rose in my mind: Usurper. The stars out, the moon high, thousands might pass by, but she only had eyes for the Usurper standing on the block. Bids rose, first by tens, then by fifties, then by hundreds, eventually to the tens of thousands. She would win not me but the Usurper.
You unbelievers accustomed to halcyon streets, irenic neighbors and rarified friends. You never know the old ones. One predestined day, I encountered the goddess, a divine from the stars. Oh Laputan lady, my new Helen, Venus de Milo made flesh. I whispered your name like prayer from cherubs to seraphs to archangels to the old ones. Rey-Alia Cathew-Lu. Oh my beloved susurration of incarnate femininity. Tonight she desire companionship and tomorrow promises fated oblivion, an eternal embrace. Tonight, the stars brought passion. Tomorrow the stars promised everlasting lust in sublime nullity.
Going once. A creeping dread filled me. Going twice. A vile ache shriveled my manhood. Going thrice. The loss unspeakable torment. In the basement of a seedy nightclub on the bad side of town, I shot her dead, through head and heart. The Usurper never forgave me. Ph'nglui-mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl-fhtagn.