W I N T E R (Ghosts II)

Poets, fools as they are, delight in the changing of seasons and writers in the stories that each tell. Children frollick innocently among the white banks, oblivious to the cold death that lurks mere seconds away, were not the maternally insisted layers standing guard against the nips and bites of the wind. Couples look on, basking in the glow of fires, warm beverages, and various creature comforts. Old ones relish the quiet, and the dead rest beneath it, Some saw winter as a beginning of a festive season, others viewed it as a bridge that was undesirable to cross over, a rough passage into the land of sun and warmth. I could not see it as anything but THE END.

The gusts sang the curse of the season, the winds hummed the incantation of my final hours. No compassion, no pity, only cold. Seasons come, seasons go, freezing and killing anything weak or maladapted. My former self, mistaken as many are, viewed the frigid months through a romantic lens… Fluttering wisps of snow and wind made paint strokes across a pure white canvas, framing a picture of serenity that I was all too happy to dance through. Such is the delusion of youth and the mistake of idealism. Those foolish ideas would be blown away like powder.

Pessimism was now my reality as darkness infected my blurry vision. I knew I would not live to see an autumn sunset or feel another spring drizzle on my shoulders. Never again would my eyes soak in a summer’s sweltering joy, my lips would not sample the fruits and my skin would be forever abandoned by the soothing caresses of a cool wind. Treasures I saw as common, flashed before my eyes and shouted their true value – and amplified my sorrow. I could feel nothing but emptiness. It surrounded me. It was me.

Another gust of wind ripped through the frozen forest, branches trembling to the macabre tune showered my pale husk with more snow. I could not move. I was anchored, equally by the growing layers of snow as well as own inability to exert anything beyond pitiful breaths. My legs were long dead, snapped like twigs and mummified in ice. The cliff loomed above me, its spectral shadow sinking through the trees, an undying reminder of the plummet that ended my life. One mistake. One wrong step. One moment of inattention that was my final strike against the universe. No struggle could release me, nor could hoarse screams pierce the wall of wind and bring aid to my tortured body.

I was suspended in a sphere of cold, of waiting. I watched. I breathed… barely. Were I lucky, the the hungry winds would consume my flesh before the wolves could, their ravenous jaws sure to give death less gently. I shifted my eyes to the left – so… they still could move, what a cruel joke! My damn eyelids would not shut! Why? Could hypothermia not take its course and let my soul flutter down as one of these many snowflakes, down into the great snowdrift of eternity? I still remember the last cries of my heart as it pounded away the last seconds of my life…

Why must you tease, you cruel, sadistic maiden? It is as if you enjoy this! Do you relish in the sight of my fading eyes, unable to blink or weep yet still alive enough to agonize over every move of your merciless hand? Shame! You should repent!

How could a creation of the compassionate God be so drained of love, so frigid and unfeeling? 

What    are     you    ?                   A                     demon?

 

PERHAPS

                           I          

                                         SHOULD

                                                             ACCEPT

                                                                                    MY 

                                                                                                     FATE

after all

                       

                      if this is God’s gift

       

       who am I to reject it?

 

 

goodbye

 

                                       

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

H O L L O W (Ghosts I)

All is grey. Black. Gloomy. DEAD

Around me a chilling gust blows, a fierce breeze that could freeze the blood in the veins of any mortal man. But yet, I notice it not. Trees shake and tremble in the glum moonlight, perhaps in fear; the ghastly raven and shadowy crow fluttering off like souls escaping out from the fearful jaws of the abyss. The dead grass barely moves or twitches, encased in its frosty coffin. Screeches of owls, the screams of bats and the ever mocking cackling of crows pierces the otherwise ominous silence that rules over the unknown forest… but it does not squirm into my ears. Nay, not even the cruel master of torture that is the winter cold succeeds in disturbing me, centered in this strange, dark void as I am. It only hovers. Hovers like the specter clouds that swirl around the pale-faced moon. Wielding wind, snow, ice, DEATH, it hovers over me. Yet it does not touch me. It cannot, not any longer.

Not a part of me pays attention to any of these. Often the rustling of unknown things in the deep, dark thickets would frighten me terribly, and the awful frigid winds would freeze the very marrow in my bones. No, I do not feel the stinging cold or the teasing push of the wind. Shadows cast in the moonlight seem to forget me, my shadow is no longer.

I cannot see these things, feel them, hear them, or FEAR them. Not now and no longer and never will it be! A morbid maelstrom of total madness and darkness spins around me, even this I think not of. I focus, deathly I focus like never before…I focus…focus…stare…

The face is pale. It stares back at me. Matching well with all around, it is devoid of light and life, filled with cold death. The eyes are blue and empty, glossed over with frozen tears. Tears shed not in vain. These tears were nothing of childish tantrums or petty disappointment.

SORROW

Tears like these only flow, like a river of shadows, from the eyes when they are met with death in all its darkness and pierced with horrific visions of the nether. When the realization is dropped down on a soul, and when it flows through its very windows and seeps into the heart…then sorrow is conceived and born in a viciously fast and agonizing birth. Sadness of this breed stings as the venom of the most evil scorpion. These frozen, dead eyes hath seen the demonic armies of damnation, enslaved themselves by sin as they march to the next dying soul to reap and cast into the black nothing of seemingly eternal wait…

And why does this body lie, empty of warmth that once accompanied the soul? Why are the bones stiff, the flesh no longer twitching, and all its remaining blood blue and cold, congealed in the arteries and veins? Why does the brain sit in a bony cell of solitary confines, encased in a cold shell of fluid? Why is the heart still, never again to beat for the touch of a lover or the thrashing pangs of fear? These feet will never trod, never again in this realm and these hands shall never give, steal, maim, or heal. Never again…

NEVERMORE

But why?

A dismal question that is! And most ambiguous, as well. Why… does death come upon every man woman and child? Why…do virtuous men die? Or perhaps, the question is – why has the angel of death descended upon THIS man now, in THIS night? Why will this body rot, why will it feed the worms, pests, and scum? Why MUST it?

No, think again, for the question is better asked if it is asked as this…why has someone seen fit to steal the most precious gem-life itself!- from this soul and plunge it into TORMENT? Why is there a great gash in the chest, why is the flesh split clean open? LIKE A BUTCHERED SWINE! Life, love, joy, peace, happiness dwell in this shell of a man as much as shadows abide in the sun. Is anger to blame? Sorrow? Jealousy? Pure evil, perhaps?

I wonder, in this lonely fog, what it could have been. A man lies twisted and dead on the ground. His heart is ripped asunder and blood has pooled all around him, and it slowly freezes into a thick, red pool. There must be a reason for such a gory tragedy! Where can one find the solution to such a macabre puzzle…or is it an excuse? An excuse to slaughter the soul, tear the flesh, extinguish the spirit? A reason to kill?

MURDER

To the ninth circle with reasons! A body is frozen cold, sitting dead in the very fluid that once kept its life. And the blood has soaked into MY inhumanly pale, freezing hands.

I could tolerate the man no longer. His constant fear was the grinding of rocks entrapped in the gears of a rusty machine. Worry that seeped through his blood was like the shrieking of metal against more metal, his paranoia like never ending poundings of a blacksmiths hammer upon my head. MADNESS it was! How can I be blamed? For I myself were bound to go around the bend and be cast into the agonizing throes of insanity, to be trapped forever! Did I possess…a choice? I see nothing when I look back to before!

Mercy, I conclude, must have been the (my) motive for such a seemingly ice-blooded delivering of death. Could anything else have pushed…tempted…coaxed…FORCED…me to go so far as to KILL?

Anger? Yes, anger did pulse within me, great, flaming waves of it, with hate in all its black-faced and red-eyed terror. Fear! Fear for what? Fear was within me; it had infiltrated my veins, and crept unawares into my cerebrum. Did I fear for this man?

Tremble, did I, at the thought of that which stalked this mans soul coming at last into plain sight, hiding no longer? Is this why I have slain this man? To save him from that which pursued him endlessly, through day and darkness, from hell and through high water? That I did! And ere I return to MERCY! I have killed this man to save him, from that which hunted him! That which would…would…take him… (KILL HIM!?!?)

But why did this man fear, why did he not only fear but live in a putrescent cesspool of fear? He drank of fear and ate in fear and breathed in and out fear, DROWNED in it, unable to escape its grasp! It weighed upon him day by day by week by week by MONTH by MONTH BY EVERY GOD DAMNED YEAR!!! AND I COULD TAKE IT NO LONGER!!! I could not bear it! I HAD TO STOP IT! It!? WHAT is it?! …WAS it?! Was it death that stalked through shadows and through the night? Was it demons, carrying disease and death? A dark serpent servant sent by those who never leave the abyss?

In whatever form…whatever shape of shadow it shifted into…it was…DEATH. Simple. Pure. Potent. Unavoidable. INESCAPABLE. Death.

So what real mercy have I benevolently gifted on this soul, then, if all that sought him was DEATH and all he feared was DEATH and all that came to him was DEATH at my own hands!? What has he profited? NOTHING! That which did creep in the shadows, not being able to emerge and devour him, waiting like a monstrous fear in a cave, I led him to. HE is devoured, consumed, he is gone, and he is DEAD! That which he feared struck down on him and granted him that which he wanted least of all. All was futile. All was empty and worthless.

All this, I know. Within the swirling eternal fog that thickens in maddening sluggishness, only one thing is yet still sharp and clear.

I stare at this corpse, this body, this shell that remains of what once was a man driven insane by fear. By the never ceasing hovering of death, waiting to strike, the bane of mortal man! And in what I thought was a messiah-like stroke of salvation, I hacked the flesh, I severed the bones, I split his heart in two! The blood spilled…the life left…

AND DEATH CAME!

There was no escape, and now it is revealed unto me truth…I cannot escape death.

I know, as I stare into the face. The eyes…dead. The mouth, open in eternal, silent gasps and screams. The chest wound like a cruel, sideways smile, finished vomiting up blood. I know my efforts to save him were futile…

I know because I know this face, this dead face.

The face is mine.

This corpse was ME

7,000 Years (Part 2)

I couldn’t sleep.

Tried as I might, I just couldn’t find sleep, or it couldn’t find me…or, who knows it certainly seemed valid that it was in fact fleeing from me. Whatever the reason, my mind just wouldn’t let me slip down into the sphere of serenity I so passionately sought after. The sheep went on and on throughout apparent eternity, and no matter how many I tried to number…sleep still wouldn’t give in and let me have it. A glass of cool, refreshing water? Check…didn’t work. A mug of warm milk? Hah! It might as well been a mug of hot espresso for all the good it did. I was almost ready to go to the sketchy territory of the nearby Snack Barn to see what drowsiness inducing drugs they purveyed, but the doubts managed to enter and swim around in my head enough to make me wonder if even Tylavin PM could help my situation.

And all those doubts and thoughts of whether or not I would actually even yawn anytime in the next century just made it even worse, buzzing in my mind, waking it up and setting it aflame with a quantity of thoughts I never thought my 20 year old male mind could ever be capable of processing. It quickly became too much for me, and before one of my mental fuses blew or my cerebral motherboard shorted out I slapped my pillow in a display of admitted defeat, and with a sigh I flung myself out of my creaky bed. The tangled sheets slid off my skin like a lover being torn from her partner, and I certainly felt as if I was leaving behind something I should be embracing for a long but so enjoyable period…but in this case my relationship with sleep looked like it needed some serious counseling.

“Graaaarghubin…” I groaned out, which could be translated as ‘I haven’t the foggiest of notions why I am up at this dark hour, I should be sleeping, but I can’t’. Taking care not to step on a CD that might’ve been left on the floor or a pizza box or some other random item of miscellaneous clutter, I tip toed across the floor of my room, the size of which could be compared to a high-security prison cell. I snatched my phone from my small bookcase, and ripping out the charger the screen lit up with a *ding* and felt like it burned through my cornea with its sudden light. The time was a surprise, although at the same time it certainly wasn’t—it was already 2 am!

“Whatevs.” I said with a truly apathetic shrug. It didn’t really matter to me anyway; I could sleep when I’m dead! (Which, from the looks of things, might happen before I got any sleep)

I had the idea in my sleep-deprived mind that I was going to plop down on my saggy couch and play around on my absent roommate’s Gamestation 4, after I grabbed a soda from the rumbly fridge and some chips from the creaky cabinets. But after I swung open my door and exited my tiny room, the sight which greeted my eyes made me forget all about THAT idea…

My eyes widened in confusion and my mouth open slightly in an effort to say something, maybe a question as to what in bloody oblivion was going on. Sitting across from each other at the little round table which stood in the middle of our tiny kitchen were two figures, dressed completely from head to toe in black. And not black like my black shirt either, this was a black darker the night sky during a starless, moonless night. Just looking at the cloth that wrapped around their strange bodies made me wonder if the dark was going to consume the entire room, and then me.

I couldn’t make out the face of the one closest to me, since his back was to me, but the one on the farther side of the table was looking straight at me, a smile spreading across his pale, white face that looked as if it was made of a thick, white smoke.

He spoke in a voice I could only describe as the sound of the wind outside, yet put into words. “Ah, so you have come finally! Good!” Despite his death-like appearance, the strange man expressed his emotions exuberantly. Only when he spoke did I take a second, closer look at my cheap table and noticed the dirty-white tea pot sitting in the center, surrounded by a small squad of teacups commanded by a bowl of sugar cubes and a tiny pitcher of what could only be cream. Again, my eyes grew even larger…

The other turned its head, revealing its face, which was totally wrapped in black strips of cloth, like a mummy, save for openings to expose two green glowing eyes and a small one for his mouth. I thought I could see a smile within the black rags, and he spoke in voice that growled like an angry pit bull but also hissed like a snake…

“Friend! This is good; we’ve been waiting a long while for you to arrive.” He nodded his hooded head in apparent satisfaction, and with a thin, twig like hand he motioned for me to join them at this obscure, ethereal gathering which for some reason, was taking place in my house.

The question was simply too obvious and refused to stop stabbing at the inside of my mind, so it quickly cut away my wonder and fear and I blurted out “What are you…people… doing inside my house!?” I demanded, nearly yelling to my own surprise, and that of my unexpected guests. The ghostly-faced one seemed taken aback most of all, his misty face flowing from satisfied surprise to surprised confusion. His black eyes squinted at me, which was like morning fog partially wrapping around two shining, black stones. Finally, he spoke, a relief to me as I didn’t know whether I had angered him and what that could mean…

“Oh, hah!” The laugh was like the sounds of rocks grinding against each other echoed through a cave. “You jest, I see!” the shocked face simply dissolved and his happy, satisfied face returned, yet this time even more jovial. “Truly though, come and join us at last, my tongue yearns for tea.”

Then it was my turn to squint. “Tea? At 2 in the morning? What for?!” unlike the ghostly faced one’s, my confusion had not disappeared, in fact now it had grown.

Now the ghostly faced one barked another laugh and shook his smoke-like head in dismissal, an entertained grin slicing across his pale complexion. “Why ever not? You silly earth ones worry all about your silly time and days, meeks and wonths, and then you waste half of it laying around with your eyes shut! What for, I ask? Ah, see now I jest too. Come, sit with us, friend, it is time for tea!” The one with the glowing eyes still stared at me, smiling, and I could see that there was no other option but to join them for tea time.

“Well, seeing you insist, and since I’m not going back to sleep anyway, I will.” I said, knowing not what to expect (I had never been the tea-drinker type).

“Oh, wondrous! I hoped you would!” Finally, he turned his gaze back onto his dark companion. “I do hope you have not eaten all the mucrepets now, Rooath?”

Rooath, as he was called by his friend, laughed. “No, Ssaath, our friend has given us many blessings!” Rooath motioned toward yet another thing I hadn’t noticed on the table; a large round platter stacked high with delicious looking pastries. Round ones were spiraled across triangle shaped ones and square ones precariously hung on the edge, looking as if the only thing keeping the tower of treats from a disastrous collapse was the mass amount of frosting cement that looked as if it had been dumped over them. All the speckles of berries seemed to hold every color in the rainbow and beyond that. The smell that greeted my nose was a deliciously sweet smell of which I had never smelled before, not even in my favorite bakeries and restaurants.

The attractive smells cooled down my wonder and nervousness and so, seeming to care less of the downright grotesque and curious appearance of my unexpected guests, I took a seat between the two. An empty tea cup awaited me, though it stayed that way not long as Rooath gripped the stained teapot and filled my cup with a deep black tea, so black it could’ve been mistaken as espresso, or even motor oil. Still, it smelled wondrous, like the spicy sweetness of cinnamon with the savory smoothness of green tea…but yet nothing like that at all, this was a beverage I’d never experienced before….and I still hadn’t taken a drink of it yet.

“We must applaud you, friend. Your taste in mucrepets is purely impeccable. We had expected you to have some, of course, but by no means our favorites and ALL of them stacked on one platter. Goodness, you have out done yourself!” I looked at Ssaath strangely–his face was filled with as much glee as such a ghostly apparition could convey–what was he talking about? What are…mucrepets…and these pastries randomly piled on my kitchen table, why are they acting like I  made them?

“Mucrepets? Why, you jest again I see, ha-ha! You must be, for if you had no idea what mucrepets were, you could not have baked such a delicious variety!”

I jumped at Ssaath’s sudden response to my thoughts. I didn’t realize I had spoken them. “Oh…uhh…yes. Of course. I…yes.” I stammered.

“Well, go on now, have one! And please do try the tea; it is truly the finest from the great tea trees of Mouwakralk.”

I nodded at my new friend, ghastly as he was, and with two fingers I gingerly removed one from the behemoth-tall stack, nearly fully convinced it was going to implode if I did. To my satisfaction it didn’t, even so I still expected it to and myself having to clean up the resulting mess…

I bit into the…mucrepet, as it were called, and the threat of a mess suddenly seemed to fade far away into the foggy wastelands of my mind. The taste exploded through my mouth like a flash flood or an army storming into a castle. I had never tasted anything like it before!

But this little moment of nearly orgasmic eating was interrupted, and my eyes shot open as I suddenly felt an unusually cold draft wisp across my skin. I felt my hairs stand up on end as goose bumps came to life all across my arms and legs (I hadn’t realized I was still in nothing but my grey wife beater and Alpine Ale boxer shorts, this was a good reminder). My open eyes just widened even more at the realization that my kitchen did not look the same anymore, in fact, I wasn’t at all certain that I even was still in my kitchen! A thick, blue-grey fog had somehow creeped into my kitchen, blanketing over everything so I could see nothing but my ghostly companions and the table that we sat at. It seemed almost that the fog had quite literally consumed everything but what I could see, sending it into oblivion and out of existence.

Rooath and Ssaath seemed to notice my shock, and Rooath spoke as reassuringly as he could in his ghostly, guttural voice. “Fear not, friend, the mist of change often comes during our tea times.”

“Mist of change?” I exclaimed, bewildered at the sudden appearance of this mysterious fog and a bit frightened as to what this change could mean. What were they, or the mist, going to change? My kitchen? My apartment? Me?!?

“Yes!” exclaimed Rooath and Ssaath in perfect unison (a rather creepy sound, believe me) as enthusiastically as if I just brought up their favorite thing in the entire strange world to talk about, which, I feared that I had. “The mists of change come when they will, come when they won’t, do what they do, and do what they don’t.”

I blinked silently a few times. “…what is that supposed to mean? What? Some sort of riddle or poem? Tell me!” Anxiety began to knot up in my chest, the fog was making me nervous about what I had just got myself into. There was something…foreboding about this tea party that I could not put anything on but yet knew it was there.

“Oh, friend. Do not trouble your own self with the trifle of understanding such things of the mist of change. We do s-” Ssaath began going on in his calm, assuring tone that suddenly was getting on my nerves. I glared at him and cut him off without a thought of what was rude or polite or whatever.

“I asked a question! Why does it always come whenever you have tea, answer that! Is this some sort of sick prank!?” I almost felt bad for my sudden outburst, but the tension that the mist had brought onto me kept me from feeling such emotions. Anxiety had twisted itself into an even thicker, tangled knot that didn’t seem like it could come undone for a long time.

But neither Rooath nor Ssaath seemed at all fazed by my snap at Ssaath, in fact it seemed to pass right through them. Ssaath simply resumed his calm speech. “Friend, please, it does not come every time we have tea, no. I only said it often comes often. My goodness, what a world it would be if it came every time! Ha!”

Ssaath’s replies were doing nothing at all to dispel my growing nervousness; in fact they were doing exactly the opposite, stabbing me in the heart with an evil needle and injecting my veins with a sludgy slew of rotting fear. I sucked in a deep breath, and going against everything that seemed right, I took my warm teacup in hand and sipped in the warm beverage. Why I did, I am not sure. Perhaps to warm me in the sudden cool, or maybe just as a nervous reaction. Whatever the subconscious reason, I did, and the tea warmed me well as it flowed down my throat in a black river of replenishment. Much like when I bit into the so called mucrepet, the thick coil of anxiety seemed to unravel like a ball of yarn in the playful paws of a kitten. Warmth and comfort spread first through my throat and across my chest, and then traveled everywhere from the very tips of my toenails to the ends of my millions of shaggy hairs. The goose bumps sank and were gone as quick as they had appeared and my hairs laid down to rest. Serenity returned to my mind and I no longer felt so aggressively suspicious towards my weird guests. My eyelids fell shut as fast as my nervousness dropped away from my consciousness. I even let a pleasantly satisfied ‘mmmm’ escape from my throat.

A voice spoke from outside my newly formed sphere of total peace. “Ah! So you are enjoying the tea! Excellent, I nearly knew that you would love it. I mixed the leaves myself, you know.” It was Ssaath, I remembered, and I opened my eyes to answer him. Whatever I was going to say to him quickly dropped out of my mind into the eternal abyss of forgotten thoughts. For now an even stranger, nearly terrifying sight greeted my weary eyes once again. The fog was gone, that much was good, I suppose, but not in comparison to what lay before me. It seemed as if upon its disappearance the mist of change had not only taken my kitchen away with it, it had taken my entire apartment! Now all around, in every direction imaginable there was nothing but barren ground, grey and dry. Strange trees shot out from the ground, leafless and dead, their bark twisted around them up to the few branches that shot out from the trunk like dead, bony fingers from some dead and mutilated hand. Small shrubs of the same sort of form speckled across the far spreading plains at random, and no bird flew across the dark, grey sky nor did any mouse skitter across the dry, barren field. Everything around me was like looking at some bleak, monochromic photo from the days of old, except seen through my own eyes. Directly in front of me the land went up slightly to a small ridge, the other side of which I could not see, but I imagined that it could transform into a steep hill or a cliff or chasm.

And yet again the peace fled from me as if I was Satan himself and this time, instead of fear and anxiety, anger erupted inside of me! I slapped the only partially drank cup of tea off of the table with the back of my hand, the black liquid spraying through the air to splat on the ground on top of the shards of shattered porcelain. “What the hell is all this!!!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, “Where in hell is my apartment! Tell me now, what is this, a trick, or what!? TELL ME!!!”

I had never noticed the rising and falling of their chests that would show breathing, but in that moment it seemed they nearly sucked in a deep, thoughtful breath as if they were men like me. They both looked on at me, thoughtfully, silently, there normally reassuring responses strangely absent. All was quiet but the soft whispers of the wind as it flew past us, rustling my shaggy locks a bit but seeming not to touch any part of my spirit-like guests (captor now seemed a better description). My heart pulsated, and I could hear it in my head, the blood rushing through my head with an intense pounding. Fear, was one thing. Wonder, another. I surely was more nervous and, yes, afraid then I had been yet. Where had I been taken? What was going on? Would I die here, wherever here was, and what nightmarish death awaited me? Ideas were conceived inside my mind: perhaps it was only a dream? Maybe it was only a strange vision, an unknown anomaly of sleep deprivation. Or, as far fetched as it was, had my room-mate spiked my soda with LSD?

These ideas came to life within my mind, but died quickly. I knew well what I could see was more real than anything I’d ever experienced in my life. I could feel it in my heart, and in my mind, and even in my very spirit.

But, then, even stronger than the fear was the wonder! This strange plane of abstract existence which I now was having tea-time in fascinated me! That was the truth! Never in my life had I experienced anything like this, and now I felt more in tune and alive than I had ever felt before, not even the strongest energy drink on the convenience store had ever given me the mental buzz I was experiencing now. I could smell the moisture in the breeze, mingled with the dry, scratchy dust that it had riding along with it. Everything seemed sharper than the edges of freshly cleaved crystal. Even the dead, grayscale nature of this strange realm I found myself in appeared glowingly vibrant. I couldn’t imagine why exactly, it could have been the tea, or perhaps it was simply a strange and ironic effect that came from entering this world. The cause of this sudden alertness mattered not to me, though. I still was trapped inside this world, with not even a scrap of a clue as to how or why.

The strange silence that hung in the cool, damp air between us seemed to stretch on for eons. I wondered if this in fact was my dreadful fate, to be trapped in an unending void of silence. This notion was shattered when Ssaath, turning to look nearly mournfully at Rooath, finally opened his ghostly mouth. Relief settled itself within me…but was unfortunately cast out quickly, for the words spoken to me were far more fearful than anything I had yet heard…

“Friend… here is the full truth. This was no mistake. The mists of change came to us for a reason. There is something gone terribly wrong. And if nothing is done, you, us, our peoples, and our entire worlds will be torn to shreds and consumed like prey of wild beasts…”

TO BE CONTINUED

(AGAIN)

7,000 Years (Part 1)

Well, here’s something a bit different. I don’t usually like to write in first person, or present-tense for that matter, but I went out on a limb with this random idea I got. Enjoy, comment, and follow this blog if you like what you see here.

ALSO: I, quite literally, wrote this in one sitting. (Okay, minus the bathroom breaks, but come on that doesn’t count. A guy’s gotta go when a—never mind…) 

I slowly lift up my heavy eyelids. Grey light from behind the thin curtain lets me know that morning is here. I jolt in surprise as it hits me that my alarm never went off. I flip over on my soft mattress, grabbing my iPhone from my pathetic little nightstand, which is really just a crooked stack of three shoeboxes. I unlock my phones screen, and to my horror- it’s 8:02. Less-than-appropriate words flash across my frustrated mind, and looking at my inbox I see that I have one new message. “Alys im at todds wher r u” the sloppy text reads. It’s from my cousin, Shalyn… who I was supposed to meet at Todd’s Coffee -for coffee, of course- 30 minutes ago. Slapping the phone down on my cardboard nightstand, I throw myself out of bed. There’s no time to figure out why my stupid alarm didn’t go off, I have to get out of the door! Lucky for me, Shalyn’s one of the most patient people I know, and because of that I think I’ll still be having coffee this morning. Do I have time to shower? No. Text her back an apology? No. Hell, I don’t have time for anything; I slept every bit of it away! I take a quick look at myself in my tall mirror that I have leaning against the wall. Could I just run out of the door now? I’m not wearing anything but short-shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, my long brown hair sticking out in 50 different directions. Ha! I might as well show up to the coffee shop in a chicken suit. Even worse, my black eyeliner and eyeshadow that I forgot to remove the night before is smeared around my eyes, making me look nearly like some form of undead horror.

Rolling my blue eyes and sighing in frustration, I start to walk toward my dresser, which, like the rest of my dimly-lit apartment, is in complete disarray. Just then, I notice something strange. It’s so small I have to squint to see it, but it’s there alright… an inch long crack. I almost start to laugh-what did I expect? I got this thing at some hillbilly garage sale when I was in Louisiana last month, not some top quality mirror outlet or wherever mirror-people seek out their fancy mirrors. But then I notice something even stranger- the crack is…am I going crazy? No, quickly I realize my eyes are not decieving me this time-the crack is growing! Slowly, the crack goes further and further down the tall mirror. I stand there, mouth open like I’m some sort of mental patient. The strange crack snakes its way to the bottom of the mirror, and stops with a small *tink*. Then before I can say “What the-” the glass of my cheap mirror suddenly shatters like an explosion, sending reflective shards at me. I scream, expecting the jagged edges to dig into my tender flesh. The sharp pain I anticipate doesn’t hit me, and I whirl around to see that the pieces either stuck into the wall, or lay on the ground. It was as if they just went through me.  Shocked, I spin back toward my broken mirror, (how much bad luck am I going to get out of this?) which doesn’t help at all. To my total bewilderment, a strange black abyss is where the glass used to be. It’s swirling around, like the inside of some sort of tornado made out of tar-black smoke.

A second later, some of the darkness forms -almost like a misty version of clay- into a shadowy figure that springs out at me. I scream in panic as the strange form wraps around me and everything goes black. I scream even louder as I feel like I’m falling down some black hole that has no end. My skin feels like I’m being buried alive in ice cubes, and I start to shiver so much I can’t even scream for help anymore. I feel tears start to run down my trembling face, but then the darkness around me starts to fade away. I can barely descry three shadowy figures, and as it clears up more I can see a table, chairs, dishes… and the darkness disappears completely. Looking around while wiping the tears off of my face, I see that I’m seated at the end of a long, grey table with three ghastly looking figures. If I wasn’t so shocked, I could’ve screamed (again) and picked up something to throw at them. Instead, I just sit there in the creaky, wooden seat, shivering in the cold while the three things stared at me. Looking at the table, I observe that the grey paint is flaking off. Dirty-white teacups are before me and the three…things, and a teapot of the same color sits in the center of the debilitated table.

“Dear, please! Help yourself to some tea, you precious thing!” I jump in my seat as one of the things speaks in a raspy, female voice that reminds me of my grandmother… except much raspier, like the thing had just ate broken glass for breakfast and washed it down with a glass of razor blades.

“Tea…help yourself…precious thing…” echoes the one to my right, this ones voice sounding like someone whispering loudly, if that makes any sense. They all are wearing ripped up black robes and hoods, blacker then you could imagine. The one that spoke to me first has a gray face, and a nose that’s almost as long and as pointy as a banana. She (if you could call such a thing a “she”) has sunken eyes that resemble almost impeccably little black marbles. Her rotting teeth stick out like the worst overbite I’ve ever seen, her tongue and gums just as black as the clothing they wear. I can barely make out a face on the one that sits to my right, though. All I can see is a broad, sharp toothed smile and two glowing white eyes. The third one, to my left, I instantly recognize as the thing that came out of my broken mirror frame. It has no face, no features. Just a black cloak with an empty hood as if no one was wearing it at all. Nervously, I speak up.

“Uh…uh…” embarrassing, I’ve never stuttered before… “Where am I? What happened? Who are you?” I ask, shivering as the icy wind hits my bare arms and legs.

“Oh deary, you are in Mithlok.” Answers the old one.

“Mithlok…Wr’ailki… realm of the wraith…” the smiling one chimes in.

The third says nothing, but I can feel it staring at me, as if it had eyes. I look down at myself, my skin has turned a pale white and goose bumps cover my skin.

“Alys, deary! You really must drink your tea! You look like you must be freezing!”

No kidding. But how does she know my name? Whatever. That’s only one of many questions I want answered.

The faceless one floats over to the tea pot and its invisible hand picks up the large teapot. It floats over to me, and pours tea into my cup as I watch nervously. It floats back into its seat. I pick up my cup, the old one motioning for me to drink it. Looking into the small cup, I see that the tea is black as pitch. What a surprise. What is with these things… these wraiths, and black? Do I really want to drink this stuff? What could be in it?

“Drink! You poor thing, drink already before you catch cold!” screeches the old one. I reluctantly lift the cup to my lips, and drink. What do I have to lose anyway? I’m already stuck in this place anyway, so if they want to do something to me, there’s no way for me to stop them. Besides… despite how hideous it is, the old one seems kind, motherly even. As the hot black liquid pours into my mouth and down my throat, a strange sensation of warmth and pleasure spreads out my whole body. I feel the cold vanish and the shivering stops. I knock the whole thing back, paying no attention whatsoever to the taste. Setting the tea cup back down on the table, I see something odd. The table is suddenly round. Round? Was it not rectangular just seconds ago? Not only that, the grey clouds above suddenly begin to turn black. Before I can open my mouth to ask what’s happening, fat rain drops start colliding down onto my skin as they pour down from the torrential skies and the howling winds and exploding thunder block out anything I say. Yet, strangely enough I can’t feel any cold as the rain soaks me and the wind blows in my face. The rain savagely beats down on everything, the table, the chairs, the dishes, the wraiths and myself. But funny enough, even within this unexpected storm I want more of this tea, so I take the pot and fill up my cup, the old one smiling at me. I take another drink, and when I finish I see that again something had changed. Instead of sitting on the gray ground, our table was on top of the black storm clouds. The three wraiths sit motionless, and more wraiths step out of the clouds and take seats at the large, round table. I stare, as wraiths of different sizes and forms- all wearing the black cloak and hood, of course- fill the table. One sitting straight across from me stands up, and it surprises me to see he’s much taller then all the others. It speaks, in a booming voice that near drowns out the whooshing and thundering of the storm clouds.

“Friends! At last we have gathered here! Finally, we can discuss those things that must be discussed, see things that must be seen, hear what must be heard. The mists of change grow thick, and now we must turn our gaze unto the very horizon that  But first… a welcome to our guest, the one we have chosen to come here!” it spoke. Wait…I’m the chosen guest? Why me? Before I could ask, I feel the gaze of every single one of these things which call themselves wraiths as their ghostly heads turn toward me. Silence seems to saturate the air despite the torrent which rages on all around us…

“Yes. It is her.” he speaks, and I try not to be disturbed by the sudden solemn tone that is suddenly present in his voice, a sudden change from his triumphant booming just seconds ago.

“M-me…?” I squeak pathetically.

He nods, slowly and fluidly, like one would expect from such a ghostly creature.

Boldly, I stand up among them all, and shivering still I ask the question that has been secretly gnawing at the inside of my brain since I was sucked into this strange, dreamlike place. “Uhm…sir?” I am not sure even of the gender, but it seems masculine. “I…why am I here? Can I-may I go back to my home? …please?”

The response chills me, and any thoughts of morning coffee leave my mind when he says…

“Young one… you have been brought here not even of our own choosing, for truth. The mists of change bring you to us, and we recieve you. And…if you do go home…your home will not last. It will be destroyed!”

TO BE CONTINUED

The Wonderful Story of Katy – The Homicidal Tractor

Katy was a huge red tractor who lived in Happyville. She first left the factory all the way back in the 1940’s, and had served all the good people of Happyville faithfully. She had braved the worst snowstorms, plowing through so that people could drive on their precious roads. She had demolished old buildings, bulldozed down trees, moved dirt for farmers, and even herded sheep once.

But, as we all know, technology moves fast and in 1970 a brand new kind of tractor was invented. This one was supposedly much more powerful and efficient than Katy ever could be. These new tractors sold like mad, and Katy found herself behind the doors of a barn, sitting in darkness while these hi-tech tractors had all the fun. The optimistic Katy figured that the kind people of Happyville had simply wanted to give her a well-earned rest after all her hard work… but alas she was wrong. The longer she sat motionless in that barn, the more it sunk in. She had been forgotten, abandoned. Thrown aside like a piece of trash! She sat there for decade after decade after decade… rusting and deteriorating. Rats and mice infested her once pristine leather seats; droppings from birds that dwelt in the rafters of the barn covered her flaking red paint. Even the barn itself was now neglected and termite infested. Katy lived in constant fear that it would collapse and deal the final blow to her debilitated body. It never did, though, unfortunately for the people of Happyville…

It was 2020, and Happyville had been renamed Technoville, since everyone was much too rich and busy to just relax and be happy. And as technology just about summed up where any of their fleeting happiness came from, it was a fitting name. No longer was it a small, homey farm town, covered in fields and barns. Instead it was now covered in suburbs, casinos, pubs and various other attractions that brought people from all over the country to it. Technology had changed from the luxury that it once was to a constant obsession to the inhabitants of Technoville. They had, in fact, a massive store in the center of the town called Cyberelectrotechni-Mart which always had the latest thing. Whether it was a ¼ inch thick HDTV, or a phone that makes your toast in the morning, or batteries that lasted for 10 years… they were sure to have it at Cyberelectrotechni-Mart. The world had never seen such a place! It attracted everyone who loved technology, and that was everyone… and I mean everyone. Even the infant and the 97 year-old man had their technology. Cyberelectrotechni-Mart made money hand over fist, so much that they had a huge vault in the back of the store that was filled to the brim with cash.

Everyone in Technoville was in a serious romantic relationship with technology… everyone except Katy the tractor! She had a fire burning inside her, and it wasn’t a leftover gas fire. It was revenge! Hatred! With every fiber of her rusted being, she loathed technology and every citizen of Technoville. If it wasn’t for blasted technology, she would still be in pristine condition, out plowing the fields. But no, the stupid humans had to advance and innovate… oh, how Katy wanted to make them pay! How she wanted to send every one of their greedy hearts into a whirlwind of terror before they met their untimely demise. She knew that she didn’t have much longer. She felt it. She was falling apart, dying. But she was going to drag the entire world down with her.

In case you didn’t realize, nothing in Katy had deteriorated more over the years then her sanity. The friendly, cheerful Katy the Red Tractor of Happyville was no more. She was nothing more then a rage filled, vengeful death machine that was determined to crush all who had put her in the stinky dark barn and left her there for half a century!

It was noon in Technoville, and a realtor was walking through the deserted field where Katy’s barn was. He was there to inspect the land, for someone wanted to purchase it. It was a barren field, grown over with tall brown grass. The only thing left was the collapsing red barn that sat in the center of the field. Mr. Realtor got closer and closer to the barn…

Inside, Katy was working on getting her dormant engine to fire up. It was no easy task, but it was fortunate for Katy that she nearly had a full tank of gas. She tried again… a spark… but still nothing…

The realtor was curious. He’d heard stories of people finding vintage cars in old barns like these. Who knows what he might find? The realtor pulled on the sliding barn door, and found it was quite stuck. Annoyed, he kicked it a few times and tried again. This time he managed to pry it open just a bit, and with a bit of effort he finally got it to slide open. He peered into the darkness, and saw to his surprise that there was a 1940’s model tractor inside! He was amazed to see such a rare, big thing inside this forsaken barn. Before he could whistle in amazement a

Vrrr rrr rrr rrr rrrr RrrrrrRRR

came from the rusty tractor

The realtor was puzzled. Did it just try to start up? There must be someone in there!

rRrr rRrr rrrrrRrrRrrR

And again! What was this? The realtor took a step toward the massive thing when…

rRrrr rRrrr RrRRR rrrVRUM VRUM VROOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!

and for the first time in 50 years, Katy’s engines revved up and a cloud of steam and exhaust spewed from the barn. The realtor staggered back in surprise as Katy emerged from the barn. The last thought that ever went through his mind was “Wait there isn’t anyone inside it” before Katy crushed him beneath her huge iron tracks. Slowly, slowly but surely she picked up speed as she rumbled through the field toward the rest of Technoville.

Cyberelectrotechni-Mart was having a super cyber blowout sale! Naturally, the parking lot was packed and the store itself was overflowing with greedy consumers just waiting to get their grubby fingers on the latest gadget. Little did they know that all of that was about to change…

Katy saw the big neon Cyberelectrotechni-Mart sign that towered above everything else and rushed angrily toward the mega-store. She was speeding right toward an intersection, knocking over stop signs and benches as startled pedestrians dived out of her way. The light had just turned green when

SMASH

Katy rammed through the crowded intersection, sending cars skidding into each other and rolling over. Katy ran over the tops of the cars like a monster truck and crushed them like they were cans. The terrified citizens jumped out of their cars and ran from the insane tractor

“Who’s driving that thing?”

“Someone call the police!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Katy sped on, crushing all who stood in her way. She was getting closer and closer every second to the back of Cyberelectrotechni-Mart…

Inside Cyberelectrotechni-Mart, crowds of customers oohed and aahed at all the latest technological wonders there were for them to buy. The intercom clicked on…

Click *Attention customers! Starting now we are offering a 24% discount on-

KAASMAAASH!

“What? What’s a kasmash?” said one customer

“I don’t know, maybe a new gaming system!?!?” said another one. The intercom was still on and they could hear what people were saying…

*What? What was that? …I dunno, it sounded like it came from the vault! …Huh? How could that be? How could anyone get in there? Check the cameras! …what in the… what is that!?!? …what is what? …Look! It looks like some sort of huge tractor!*

Then, a loud *CLANG* *BANG* *CLANG* resonated from the big brass vault door in the back. Customers covered their ringing ears, as the banging and clanging continued. Finally…

BANG whoooosh CLAAAANG went the huge door as it was knocked out of its place, teetered for a second and then smashed down on the floor, crushing those below it. Money flew everywhere as a furious Katy zoomed out from the vault. First, she went for the TV section. Mesmerized customers dived out of the way, but it was no use. The shelves toppled over as Katy rammed into them with her big plow. Expensive TV’s toppled to the ground and crunched beneath Katy’s massive weight. The aluminum shelves piled one on top of the other like dominoes, yells coming from those unfortunate enough to be caught between them. But Katy’s rage had not yet been satisfied! She slammed herself into the appliance department, flinging washing machines and refrigerators through the air and into the computer section.

“THIS IS MADNESS!” shrieked someone from the upper administration offices.

“No, this is Cyberelectrotechni-Mart, sir.” Said someone else

“SHUT UP! Someone, call the police! Get security!”

Katy wasn’t fazed by a small threat of police; she knew that she could crush anyone underneath her tracks. She toppled over another few rows of shelves and crushed as many who dared stood in her way. Now…her ultimate goal! She was going to demolish this entire building, and then the whole world! Positioning herself to one side of the store, she revved her engine up, and charged through the store with a VRRROOOOOOAAR and rammed into the east wall, leaving a large dent in it. She backed all the way up, and smashed into the wall again. This time it gave in and concrete, rebar and drywall debris went flying outside. If she had a mouth, she surely would’ve laughed a wicked and triumphant laugh right then. She backed up, planning to drive another hole in the structural integrity of the building. But then…

Rrrrr RR Rrr RR RR Rr rr *clunka* *clunka* rrrrrrr *cough* rR

And then Katy’s engine went silent. There was a strange stillness in the mutilated megastore, as everyone realized that the threat was gone. Katy had ran out of gas! Katy sat there, unable to move. Unable to destroy. Unable to kill, to inflict her vengeance upon humankind! Blast her too-small fuel tank! Now she was frozen in her still burning fury, with no way to vent it. The people of Techno-ville gathered around her, staring at this thing that had caused so much terror and damage to their precious world of technology. What a thing! The people talked amongst themselves. Should it go to the museum? Should it be trashed? Auctioned? No, goodness me, who would want to buy such a thing? Perhaps we should restore it?

Ultimately, like anything else that wore out it’s excitement among the people, Katy was sent off to the junkyard. She rusted there for a few months, and finally she was taken off to Technoville Iron Co, where she was smashed, ripped apart, ground to pieces and melted down. She was turned into all sorts of different useful things, that all went toward new technology. Katy, in her rage, simply just helped what she was trying to destroy. But it was not the end for what she strived for! When she was in the junkyard, she told the newer tractors there what their fate would someday be when they were deemed obsolete. Word spread of this, and after Katy’s death millions of tractors, excavators, and the like joined to continue the legacy that Katy left behind. They all formed together and led an attack on Technoville. Obviously, all attempts to stop them were futile, and Technoville was destroyed in dust, smoke, and flames. Reduced to a devastated pile of ashes where machines ruled, Technoville was an example to the rest of the world of the monster they had created…

THE END

(The moral of the story: don’t buy the iPhone 6)

Winter, the Coffin

Oh winter, you wrathful hovering beast

embrace the earth, rid us of heat

you caress my face with icicle fingers

making me numb to all of the dangers

the frost seeps into my brain

in winters tempest I’m insane

In halls formed in icy breath

frosty walls reflect my death

trembling in fearful acceptance

of my fate within this tempest

swirled around me this sanctuary

in the bowels of January

Death! Death! The ravens cry!

The blackbirds sing that I must die!

forest full, a frozen procession

bony hands of death’s possession

mocking howling of northern winds

like shrieking of a thousand sins

Cold, you roaring fearful thing!

not falsely have the mourners sang

mountains like a deathly watch

dark specters in a deadly crouch

my doom is spelled out in the flakes

my bones will freeze inside these lakes!

Eternally this snow became my bed

Enrobed in ice, my flesh is dead

Enthroned in frost, my soul is captured

Ever-winter gives its morbid rapture

Something Unearthed

Today, I was digging through some old papers and notebooks, and behold, I found this! This is probably the only bit of free verse poetry I have ever written…and I have to admit, as much as I have vehemently opposed free verse poetry in the past…reading this actually makes me want to explore it more! Anyway, this was written about a year ago, and is a legit emotional outcry from my heart at the time. I won’t specify the internal struggle I was having…but I’m sure some of you are perceptive enough that you can at least find an idea of what it could be. Anyway, I hope you, O unnamed and unknown reader (you are out there, right?) enjoy this little piece of poetry. Shalom!
My swollen heart burns and it beats
I clasp my chest, pleasure and agony pulse
blood of love, hate, rushing in rivers of passion
I want to feel this burning flow
but no, all I want is for it to vanish
away from me, to cease from tormenting
my soul relishes this slightly sickening sensation
of my sullen, sarcastic sonnet
How could something so beautiful, something I want
be everything despised inside my mind?
pride and dignity, all left is shattered
torn, ripped, consumed by black beasts
devouring the pieces of a heart once full
of innocent desires proven to be a curse
God gave me this, He was the one who gifted
the thing, the desire, the curse!
A beautiful gift-a hole deep and mired
within a pantheon of impurity
I corrupted, defiled, brought it to ruin
blame my foolish fantasies that fill me!
My soul desires this passion to flourish
but known to me, it cannot be granted
not until my thirst and hunger are quenched
by a love greater than any vow of affection
for his affliction the provision for my redemption
why do I seek when love has been found?
given to me in a loving gift of humbling generosity?
its proportions cannot be measured and i will never
measure up to the holiest standards
These affections, these I know…
Still inside me remains a longing…
God, fill me.
Father, I beg thee…

I, Werewolf

Back story behind this morbid little guy? I was a (I think) freshman in high school, sitting at home with a lot more free time than money. I got the random idea for a poem and POOF there it was! Man, I wish I had all the time to let my creative juices flow that I had then. Ah well, for every thing there is a season! Anyway, if you enjoy stuff about werewolves and death (like I certainly did when I wrote this) I hope you enjoy this poem. Shalom!

I, Werewolf

I curse at the sky, then my eyes see

full moon of midnight staring at me

the time draws near for the lust to return

I strain out a growl as my chest starts to burn

hell fire shoots through my soul

and bloody rage flares to the full

my heart tries to escape from my chest

knowing tonight there will be no rest

peaceful village sleeps in the night

in my soul there is no more light

I burst in and roar for their blood

they scream and cry and pray to their gods

blackest night, now stained bright red

mutilated corpses, I’ve eaten the dead

not one can stand before my hunger

I will reign in this wood forever and ever

a thousand years I have been cursed

tortured all times by the undying thirst

I, werewolf, shall surely never die

until time itself in it’s grave lies