Friday, March 1, 2019

About Hell


ABOUT HELL

It’s a cloudy, rainy day in Stereo Falls; cloud overlapping cloud overlapping cloud and so forth. Cars are on and off the streets with pedestrians walking the frame around them. Of course it could all very well look like an evolving painting, moving picture, or free TV from behind a glass window daily. And that's where she is: Ruth McCarthy - 18 years of age, saved from a burning warehouse mere weeks ago. Evidence says Ruth was the cause of the fire but her story says otherwise. You decide...
Wrapped in a blanket and white scrubs while planted in a chair, Ruth sits silently watching out the window. Only she knows what she sees out there. She's rarely said a word since arriving to The Golden Meadow. Some of the other crazies might attempt to strike up a conversation but eventually wander off when she doesn’t reply.
"Ruth," a nurse says, "There's a man here who wants to know about your... Well when you... Just, just tell him what you told us.”
"Is she...violent?” The man asks preparing himself.
"Oh no, she's fine."
"Oh, then I can take it from here, thanks.” He says after a sigh of relief.
"Alright.” She adds, "If you need anything just buzz me."
"Okay, thank you."
Ruth, still silent, has an interested visitor.
He leans down to her, "Ruth? Miss McCarthy, my name is Frank King. I'm here to ask you about what went on in that warehouse.” Frank King is tall, white, and in a grey suit with glasses and brown hair with a notepad in his hand.
"You want to learn about Hell?” She asks him, still staring straight out of the window without blinking. The young woman is white, in white scrubs, with short disheveled red hair. She doesn’t sound malicious or evil, on the contrary to her situation she sounds like a young innocent girl.
"Pardon?"
"That's what you wanted to know, right? About Hell? You want to know if the stories are true."
"What stories, exactly?” She stays quiet. He knows what stories he thinks he's heard and her silence shows she knows that he knows. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"
"It was Thursday. A normal Thursday...” She begins to explain.

It was in the middle of their high school hallway when her friend, Katy, first presented her with the tickets, the tickets to a big rock show coming up; the biggest. Ruth was standing at her locker amongst friends and Katy approached her.
“Ruth, guess what I got?”
Ruth winced, “Ugh, don’t tell me you caught somethin’ from Bobby.”
Katy laughed, “Ew no. He’s clean… He better be clean.” The girls laughed together and their friends joined in. Katy held out her index finger before reaching in her purse to reveal two tickets.
“What is this?” Ruth took a ticket and read it with widening eyes. “66 Dead Cicadas are coming here!?”
“Yeah, it’s this weird thing they got going. You know how you thought it was sooo ridiculous that I paid the extra money to be in the exclusive club on their website? Well it’s a private concert for members only so I got two so we can go.”
“Oh my God.”
Their friends laughed, “66 Dead Cicadas? You guys listen to the weirdest shit.”
“Yeah yeah, you guys are just jealous.” Ruth playfully stuck her tongue out to her friends.
“There’s not gonna be an opening band, just them and they’re calling it The Last Show on Earth.” Katy added fuel to the excitement’s fire.
“This is awesome. Thank you!” The girls hugged and jumped up and down and then the bell rang.
“Alright, everyone, get to class!” Yelled the vice principal from the center of the hall.
The girls and their friends vacated the halls to get to class.
Later, on lunch break the girls sat at a crowded lunch table.
“So it’s tomorrow night?” Ruth was curious.
“Yeah, since it’s exclusive they wanted to keep it on the hush-hush.”
“This is so fucking awesome! But wait, I’m not a member.”
“How are they gonna know? A member bought two tickets.”

“The next day we couldn’t have been more excited…”
Back to school, it was Friday morning and the girls were as giddy as could be. They walked down the halls only thinking about one thing: The Last Show on Earth.
“So what are you gonna wear?” Ruth asked clutching the strap of her book bag.
“I was thinking about this short red skirt and that black 66 Dead Cicadas shirt I have with the slits in it. What about you?”
“Hmm…  Black skirt, fishnets, and my 66 Dead Cicadas tank top.”
“Nice.”
“We waited out the day, thrilled. We couldn’t wait for the final bell to ring…”
The bell rang and the children escaped the educational prison system and were free. Among the sea of students were the eager Ruth & Katy.
“I’ll be by to pick you up about seven.” Katy told her friend upon departing in their different directions.
“I’ll be ready.” Ruth assured her.
Ruth sat at the dinner table with her parents eating the meal her mother had prepared.
“So how late will you be?” The mom asked.
“I don’t know when the concert’s going to be over.” Ruth shrugged.
“The correct answer was that you won’t be late at all...” The stern father spoke up.
“Ugh, dad, c’mon, it’s my favorite band and they never play around here. It could be my only time to ever see them.”
“66 Dead Cicadas? What happened to band names? They’re so weird nowadays. How can you listen to a group called 66 Dead Cicadas?”
“It’s just a name, mom.”
“I’m just saying…”
Ruth retreated into her meal while her parents went on about how music these days is so terrible.

The night of the concert after dinner: Ruth waited outside her house for her best friend to arrive. She was dolled up to see her favorite band for the first time, dressed in attire just right for such a heavy rock show. At that moment she heard the booming sounds of said band coming from a vehicle fast approaching. Katy zoomed up to the house and Ruth excitedly ran to the car.
“Hey.”
“Hey. Ready to rock?”
“Let’s roll!”
Ruth noticed the backseat was loaded with CDs and other memorabilia from 66 Dead Cicadas.
“Jeez, Kate, you bring your entire Dead Cicada collection?” Ruth laughed.
“I’m hoping to get something signed.”
“I was thinking about getting a signature and get it tattooed.”
“Yeah, with my luck I’d do that and then they’d break up.” Katy chuckled.
“Even if they broke up tomorrow they still gave us plenty of awesome tunes and on top of that we could say we saw their last show.” Ruth shrugged.
“Well it is called The Last Show on Earth…” Katy laughed and cranked up the radio to a sonic level volume and the girls screamed out their excitement together, “Woooo!”
The venue for the concert was a warehouse that used to be an old shoe factory back in the fifties. While mostly vacant the warehouse still contained wooden crates stacked up in the corners and at the walls that, no doubt, the band’s stage crew had pushed to the edges to make room for the crowd. The building was full of crazed fans, exclusive members to 66 Dead Cicadas’ website all with their VIP concert tickets. Tons of fans flocked and gathered together sharing stories of the band’s previous concerts they’d attended and what they like about them. The crowd looked diverse however unified at the same time. Concert goers dressed in leather and black mesh, makeup and various facial accessories. Ruth & Katy entered, excited. They lit up at the thought and the sight of the location and instantly began mingling with other fans.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Ruth exclaimed to a fellow fan.
“I know, right!? How long you been listening?” The young man took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke to the side away from Ruth.
“Since the second album. After that I went back to the first one and just fell hard. I haven’t heard a song of theirs I don’t like.”
“I know what you mean. It’s like every album just gets better and better!” They’re excitement was shared. Katy returned with a couple of drinks.
“Anybody thirsty?”
“Hell yeah!” Ruth shouted before getting her drink from Katy.
Ruth and the young guy shared a seductive look before she drank. Katy noticed and giggled.
“All the little piggies are wrapped up tight…!” 66 Dead Cicadas’ frontman yelled into the microphone. Everyone’s attention directed towards the stage at the sight of the band coming out.
“So let’s go all night!” The crowd screamed in unison completing the lyric to the song referenced and with that the band jumped into the song, ‘Little Piggies’. The song was fast and pounding as the singer shouted the lyrics out. The crowd loved it, jumping around, singing along, and cheering. The moshpit was jumping and growing. Ruth & Katy loved it, jumping up and down screaming to one another in disbelief that they’re even there. The band was decked out with various tattoos and piercings while donning assorted black garb. The song came to a finish and was greeted with great applause. The show continued a few fast, loud, and heavy songs more met with a continuous thunderous response by their exclusive fan club that was granted such a show.
The band came to a pause after a song. The house lights came down. The singer stepped up to the microphone, “Alright… Everybody having a good time tonight!?”
The crowd responded with great cheer.
“We’re gonna bring it down a little. I need you all to help me out with this one…” The band started playing a slow, building, dark and brooding tune. “I want you all to join me once you get it, alright?” The crowd cheered in agreement.
“Come to us, the darkness inside
With no fuss, by you we abide”
The singer repeated this over and over while the hypnotic music played beneath his voice and soon the crowd joined in the chant-like lines. The voices of everyone in attendance throbbed in unison,
“Come to us, the darkness inside
With no fuss, by you we abide”
“And that’s when everything changed…”
The audience and the band chanted in unison while the throbbing music escalated. The lights were still out and the stage was barely lit. Heinous feedback came from the amplifiers. A thunderous thump was coming from somewhere becoming louder than 66 Dead Cicadas. The chant continued as did the clunking sound and the harsh feedback. The thumping was getting closer, louder. The stage began to shake, began to quake. The band continued and while some of the crowd continued to chant, some cheered as they thought it was all part of the show. Center stage split and broke open and red light came up and smoke billowed out of the opening. The crowd watched as black wisps flew out of the open stage sporadically and loved the “stage show” the band has displayed for them.
“This is amazing! I wonder how much all this cost!” Katy shouted to her friend while mesmerized by the show.

“…And that’s when HE came out…” Ruth says shakily.
Frank King looks a little confused, “Who came out?”
“…Satan.”
Frank’s more than a little stunned by this answer, “Satan? As in, the Devil himself?”
“Yeah… It’s not like in the Bible… It’s worse…”

Large black hands came from the opening in the stage, opening the gap even more breaking the stage open completely. And that’s when he arose, the Devil; tall, large and black, without clothing.
“I’m sorry…black? As in the Devil is African-American?”
“No, just…black, darkness. He was detailed but the details kept changing…”
Satan rose from the hole in the stage, the embodiment of darkness. His eyes glowed and while he did indeed have horns, they kept changing, at times they’d look like ram horns and at others they’d look like the stereotypical devil horns we’re all used to seeing. He stood on stage looking like the most expensive stage prop the crowd had ever seen. The crowd cheered and the band quivered in his presence. Some of the large being’s detail would change from lean muscle tone to raw muscle flesh and back to darkness. The band put down their instruments and kneeled before him. Satan stood tall, proud, and confident while scanning the building turning his large head side to side with glowing eyes. The light from beneath the stage lit the Lord of Lies, the Lord of Darkness and, as Ruth had said, his features changed constantly. The audience loved the show and couldn’t believe what they were seeing. While the dark shapes continued to fly around the room Satan’s features, though within man’s shape, would change from that of a snake to a goat to a collection of fallen angels. At one point there appeared to be serpents on his shoulders and when he’d turn nubs or stumps could be seen on his shoulder blades where there were once wings.
“At one point I was sure I saw in him an image of a nude man and woman reaching to each other. It didn’t say but I just knew it was Adam and Eve.”
When the Devil breathed, the images shown in his figure rapidly changed as his body pulsated with each breath. He stepped forward with a thunder-like stomp. “Woo!” The crowd cheered. Satan looked down to his minions, the kneeling band. His head tilted at this sight before smiling with his eyes closed, bringing his head back in a large inhale. He held out his hand to the members of the popular metal band 66 Dead Cicadas as they ignited in flames. The band cried out in pain while Satan smiled, chuckling heartily. After the burning and the agony their heads exploded one by one, popping like overfull balloons.
“People cheered at the sight of the show but the heat of the flames and the horrid smell was just too real. I started to realize it wasn’t part of the show…”
The souls of the band rose from their corpses, as black and airy as the figures seen coming from the hole in the stage prior to the Devil’s appearance, circled Satan, and flew up to the ceiling joining the collective above. With the dark bodiless spirits hovering overhead, it looked like a black cloud over the crowd. The bodies on stage continued to burn quickly until they were ash and soon the ash figures crumbled and withered. That’s when the Dark Lord turned his attention towards the band’s adoring fanbase. Ruth grew nervous despite Katy and the others cheering with uproarious applause. He held his hand out to the crowd with his palm up and it raised. While the crowd hollered Satan took in his praise feeding off it. His hand turned over, his long nails evident. One by one the members of this exclusive fan club ignited into flame. The joyous yells turned into horrific screams of pain and in their agony The Devil trembled in ecstasy. His nostrils and lips quivered taking it all in. More and more concert goers became lit and the smell of their burning flesh filled the available airspace.
“It was worse than I’d always read and been told. The Devil is real and he’s far scarier than he’s portrayed. What’s written about him in the Bible doesn’t do his evil justice but, then again, it’s hard to put into words so I understand…”
Ruth and Katy watched in terror. “Katy, this isn’t a show! This shit is real!” Ruth took Katy’s hand and tried to pull her away from the flaming crowd around them, “Let’s get the hell out of here!” But it wasn’t but seconds later when Ruth’s hand was burnt by her best friend bursting into fire herself. “Ah! Katy! No!” Ruth pulled her hand back and cried while her lifelong friend burned before her eyes. She tried patting Katy down to put the flames out but it wasn’t working. Ruth sobbed knowing she couldn’t help her.
Katy cried out, “Ruth! AH! Help me!!” Katy’s eyes burst into flames next. Ruth couldn’t watch and turned her head before Katy’s head was the next to explode. Attendees scattered like cockroaches scurrying in a panic but they wouldn’t get far before everyone was engulfed in flames.
Satan, the Devil himself, stood on stage a rock star with his arms out to his sides, taking in the wonderful agony he’s created. The dark smoke filled the warehouse and he breathed it in before blowing fiery smoke circles from deep within his gullet.
“I was terrified and tried to find a way out but I was surrounded by fire. My heart was racing and I was paralyzed with fear. The smell was horrendous. I can still smell it on myself as if it’s baked into my skin…”
Beelzebub watched from atop of the stage, to him atop of the world, as the crowd continued to burn. The demons, the dark spirits, floated and swam aimlessly through the air above the jaggedly sharp and painful flames. They summoned, he came. People in the crowds continued to cry out in horrific screams as their skin bubbled and melted. The anguish of each individual soul in attendance was intoxicating to the Devil as the high he got from the torture of human beings sent his senses into sensory overload and he loved it, relishing in the chaos. Ruth watched smoke release from her peers as their screaming was coming to an end. Then it began; that familiar popping. At random throughout the audience heads started to explode one by one, always one by one. The sound of the miniature explosions was wet and heavy. The skulls busted like glass bottles in a fire and the brains popped from within, both breaking and ripping through the head’s burnt skin in an instant. Their necks looked like shed snake skin and the tops of their spinal cords fell limp.
Ruth screamed and couldn’t get out from the center of the crowd and everyone around her was rapidly becoming headless so she dropped to the floor sitting with her knees up curled up tightly keeping her head down. ‘Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!’ Ruth thought to herself. She could hear the wet, blunt popping around her and the cries of the spirits released from the people around her. She kept her eyes closed so tightly it hurt. It was all so surreal for Ruth; her skin was crawling and tingled as if she were covered in spiders. After each head exploded from the concert goers the spirits, or the darkness of such spirits, rose and joined the others above.
“…And then it was over… It all just…stopped. My heart beat so hard it hurt.”
The sounds of excruciating anguish had stopped along with any bursting sounds. After a minute of this jarring silence Ruth opened her sore and tired eyes and looked up before standing. She looked around at the human embers slumped, smoking. The warehouse looked like a warzone, a good deal of the bodies still burning. Silent in her shock and awe she gazed around the venue before directing her attention to the dark entity on the stage still lit by the light from below. The details in his large figure continued to change before her eyes.
“What did you see in him?”
“I don’t know. I can’t really say. The darkness of man, various animals and creatures, unexplainable horrors…”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No… He didn’t have to…”
The ever-morphing Lucifer stood strong staring directly at Ruth. A devilish grin crawled across his face before he snarled in her direction. The sounds of the spirits above her captured her attention if only for a moment. She looked up to see the swirling dark matter drifting abstractly across the ceiling, not being able to tell any of the beings apart from one another. ‘Katy, where are you?’ She thought to herself. The Devil extended his hand once again; the fingerprints of man exaggerate upon his hand for a split second before falling down into its dark blank surface bearing only scars. Ruth looked Satan directly in the eyes but was without motion. She either couldn’t or wouldn’t move but she stayed still while The Devil stared at her with hungry eyes. The collective of blackened spirits swiftly moved to the Devil’s palm as if being sucked by a vacuum. The dark articles were now compact as a lone black ball held captive by their new Dark Lord. The ball glowed and screaming faces swirled around inside it like a fishbowl of tortured souls. Handprints were visible on its surface like you’d see when pressed against a window.
“I couldn’t believe my eyes. I know what I saw. I know how real it was and how real it felt. But still, I couldn’t believe it…”
His hand closed and snuffed the ball’s light and when he reopened his hand it was no longer there. The Devil and Ruth never broke their stares and then he pointed out at her, the lone survivor in this mass carnage as she backed up. In that instant his body fell to ashes on the stage while Ruth gasped. The ashes moved as if still one solid entity and slithered back down into the hole on stage like a snake. The light from the opening faded. A large sigh of disbelief exited Ruth as she continued to look around at the devastation. Many of the bodies were still burning and the fire spread quickly setting the building ablaze. The flames grew and the ashes of the building soon joined the bodies within.
“By the time I had gotten out the fire department and police were already there…”

“Well now… That is quite the story.”
“I know you don’t believe me. If I were in your shoes, I don’t think I’d believe me either. It’s absurd.”
“It is. Tell me, Ruth, what’s your imagination like?”
“You think I’m making all this up and that’s crazier than what actually happened in that warehouse. I mean, why would I kill anybody let alone my best friend? There were so many indescribable horrors, I’m only telling you the ones I can remember…the ones I can’t forget.”
“It is intricately detailed, who could make up such a story?”
“Exactly…”
“Why do you think you survived? If it was indeed The Devil, why wouldn’t he want you too?”
“I’ve been thinking about that… The only thing I can come up with is that I wasn’t supposed to be there. I wasn’t an exclusive member of the club. Never thought I’d be so happy to not be included…”
“Have your parents been to see you?”
“Once, heh, they think I’m as crazy as everybody else does. They’re ashamed of me; of what they think I’ve done. But they don’t understand. No one does. This wasn’t just an incident; this is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I can smell the burnt hair, skin, and flesh. I can hear their cries for help and their painful screams.” Ruth looks at her hand as she opens and closes it, “I can still feel Katy’s hand in mine when she began to burn. It’s very real and it’ll never go away.”
Frank looks stunned, struck even. He nods and writes down the remainder of his notes and extends his hand to her, “Well I thank you for your time today, Ruth. I’m…I’m sorry for everything you went through.”
Ruth remains silent, still staring out of the window, not paying him any attention.
Frank nods retracting his hand, “Yeah, well…”
As he’s walking away she stops him briefly, “Mr. King?”
He turns back, “Yes, Ruth?”
“Will you tell everyone? Will you tell the world the truth?”
Hesitant he answers, “I’ll… I’ll tell your story. Goodbye, Ruth.”
“Goodbye.” Softly comes from Ruth’s lips as she stares blankly out of the window. Who knows what she really sees from that window anymore for her eyes have seen what many only read about in books. The things she has witnessed cannot be unseen.
It’s a cloudy, rainy day in Stereo Falls; cloud overlapping cloud overlapping cloud and so forth. Ruth sits and watches the clouds fight for space in the sky while numb to the ‘real world’. Alas, it’s time for meds as her nurse has arrived with her dosage…

Friday, February 22, 2019

Midnight Snack


MIDNIGHT SNACK

It's roughly 11:45 PM in Stereo Falls. All the families are in for the night, all the children nestled away. Household pets are curled up somewhere nice and warm. Everybody in town's been in bed since nine or nine-thirty and will be up early to go to work at their offices, factories, and what have you. It's July as well so the kids either don't have to get up early or have summer jobs; none the less, everyone's in bed. Most houses in the neighborhood look the same; some with nice fences out front, some without. Everyone's lawn is cut the same as the person's next to them. All the neighbors’ hedges are trimmed nicely. All the cars, trucks, and minivans are washed, waxed, and sitting in garages. There's no trash in the street. There's no vandalism done to anyone's property. No stray animals roaming about. No homeless people waiting for their break. No barking dogs. No sounds from their downtown area since it's dead by six. Nobody's having trouble sleeping and everyone's in their nice little dream lands. The only thing going is a 24 hour gas station across town where the night clerk wonders why it's open twenty-four hours when nobody comes in after seven, but he doesn't say anything because he likes having a job. That and the train on the far side of town makes its nightly run. Yes, everything in Stereo Falls is pretty much the same all the time and usually runs entirely on schedule. ...But not tonight...
Tonight is different.
The recent rain has loosened the ground, enough for the Earth's flesh to be moved that is; and so it is moved. First his fingertips and then his fingers sprout up like weeds. His hands reach up to separate its soggy crust allowing an opening. The mud squishes between his fingers as he claws at the ground, pulling himself out of his grave. Like being birthed from an earthly cocoon. Of all things to happen tonight, a return from the grave wasn't on the list of 'might happens'. The living dead climbs out of the pit he once called home and aimlessly moves forward. He crawls along the ground, not yet able to stand, his mouth slowly creaking open. He's hungry. So hungry he couldn't rest. Couldn't sleep. And now he's out for a snack... A meal. The grave behind him, now a muddy hole with broken shards of coffin sticking up. The casket pieces have blood and bits of scraped flesh on the ends of them from his escape.
His fingers grip into the land in front of him pulling himself forward. Owls watch as this once-man crawls across the ground. Raccoons and possums keep their distance. A gurgling hiss comes from his mouth. What and who he once was doesn’t matter anymore. Lit by the moon, the slime of his decomposition reflects the light. His clothes are wet from his decay and torn from the broken coffin. At the nearest headstone he reaches up with the resistance of a rusty limb grabbing hold of its top. With all his might he pulls himself up and places one foot on the ground followed by the other. His stance stabilizes and he’s steady. Looking up to the night sky he lets out a horrific screech as birds vacate their homes including the watching owls.
His steps are forced and slowed as one moving through water. He walks forward slowly, one foot in front of the other with subconscious muscle memory. It’s coming back. His pace picks up. He grumbles and groans, although that sound might just be his stomach rumbling. The cemetery is cold and empty yet simultaneously full. He comes to a halt and slowly scans his surroundings, his home. Though there are enough people around him to form their own town he finds himself utterly alone, yet loneliness is not really on his mind…if he indeed has one.
After viewing his surroundings he spots the front gate of the graveyard and starts to march in that direction. The wind is slight, no doubt carrying his stench to the nearby neighborhoods. Flies and gnats crowd his space. Maggots and various insects drop from his body with every step splatting to the ground. His body creaks and his clothes slip with the wet sounds of the slime. He walks as though it’s his first time, unstable without much direction or solid footing. He reaches the gate and opens it, its rusty creaking sound catching his ears as he stops to look at it before moving on.
He walks down the road, step after step. He’s hungry, starving. His senses almost make him hungrier by the minute: the smell of living things in the air (cutting through even his own foul odor), the heightened sound of heartbeats and blood flow. His stomach grumbles. On his walk, he steps on garbage on the side of the road with no thought. He steps on a broken beer bottle that plunges up directly through his foot. No reaction, he can’t feel it nor does he notice it. The wound leaks fluids on the ground behind him. The Zombie’s done walking on the side of the road and walks clear over to the middle, walking in the same direction. The piece of broken bottle lodged in his foot clanks on the road. Raspy creaking sounds emit from his rotten decaying mouth. He sees something in the distance - lights. A truck is coming down the road. He’s lit by the headlights in all his grotesque glory. The Zombie’s eyes light up and jaw falls open. The car swerves by the dead man, “Hey, get outta the road, asshole!” His head turns briefly watching the truck fade in the distance before turning forward and continuing.
The being that used to be a man (perhaps even a respectable man) moves forward with thirst, with hunger. He can feel it, the only pain he can feel. Stopping dead in his tracks, his head creaks to his left and his body soon follows as he takes to the roadside woods. Any light from the moon or streetlights is gone, swallowed by the darkness of the woods. The Zombie walks through the sea of trees as the surrounding brush scrapes and scratches him in his passing. His clothes tear but he doesn’t notice, paying no attention. His stiffened hands come up slowly to pull branches out of his way. Birds flutter away. Woodland creatures scurry just sensing him.
Music plays up ahead, however faint. Alternative rock, not that he could distinguish genres if he’d even care to. He moves towards it with stronger strive, stronger drive. He gets through the woods to find a clearing where a car’s parked - the source of the music. It seems to be rocking, swaying a bit. Along with the music, sounds of passion and pleasure of human tones are heard. He walks into the clearing closer and closer to the car. Pulses are felt. The warmth and sound of the heartbeats radiate as his body senses it, feels it in the air. Sticks are stepped on in his trek snapping beneath his feet. Of course, the inhabitants of the vehicle don’t hear his movement over the music and their own movements.
He approaches the car, more specifically the backseat where he feels the energy coming from. Pressing his hands to the window, the bones of the tips of his fingers scrape down the glass. In an instant he smashes his hand through the glass to an audible surprising scream. He pulls back a young man by his short dark hair who yells out in fear. The guy’s head is pulled back out of the window while his date, a young woman, screams bloody murder. Their cries mean nothing to him; he’s a walking stomach on a mission to appease his hunger like a drug addict looking for a fix. The Zombie looks down at the man, shivering with hunger. The man can’t blink; his eyes frozen open with terror and his hair streaks white with fear.
The Zombie’s fingers dig into the man’s eyes and, with ease, he pulls off the top of his head splitting the man’s cranium in half. Within the car, the woman continues to scream and cry unable to look away. The skin splits, the ligaments and muscles tear and the skull cracks as the head opens. Blood spills out releasing the savory scent into the air. For someone, something, so stiff and fragile, the Zombie’s strength is remarkable as he tears the mortal man’s skull apart. He reaches in and plucks out the young male’s brain along with his eyeballs dangling before stuffing it in his mouth. He gobbles up the brain and eyes with the hunger of a man who’s been lost at sea. Blood and fluid runs down his rotting chin after the eyeballs pop in his jaws. Shoveling in his food, belches come in between mouthfuls.
The young lady continues to yell before finally getting out on the other side. She’s of average build, blonde, naked, and screaming for her life. With her adrenaline pumping, she runs not thinking of the pain of her bare feet on the sticks and rocks beneath her. The Zombie looks up and then over to her as its mouth creaks open. He lets out his blood curdling screech stopping her instantly. A paralyzing sting caused from its call, she learns the answer to a common question of “How do people get caught by such slow moving creatures?” Fear, debilitating fear.
She cries and tries to move but can’t budge. Her body tries to fight past this force that’s holding her as he approaches, each step with heavy footing. He’s right next to her. She sweats and cries in terror. Standing to her side, he lets out another screech, her eyes go white with fear. Her heartbeat rises and her blood races, pulsating out to the dead. Like her mate, her hair turns white from sheer fright. The pulsing energy tantalizes his senses. He bites into her neck with the same hunger and thirst as with the dish before her. He bites hard, pushing through the raw meat. The once-living-now-not-man pulls back tearing the flesh from her neck as her white body is painted red.
He continues to chew at her neck before pulling at her head. The spine gives him some resistance but he tugs harder, breaking it off at the neck. With her body still standing frozen, stiffened with fear, he tears into her head eating out her brain, eyes, and then the rest of her face until there’s nothing left but a naked skull. The empty cranium is tossed to the side and he tends to his hunger eating the rest of her from the neck stump on down. He takes the headless and lifeless body down to the ground to feast. The sound is wet and messy as he slimily gorges on her flesh. The cartilage is tough but he doesn’t care; his jaws power through it as he does with the tendons. The suit he was buried in is now not only torn up but covered in blood, the blood of the youth. It would appear to be a picnic for the Zombie as he eats this woman’s entire being (save for the bones) in this open clearing in the woods.
It doesn’t take him long to finish the first course of his meal and she’s down to a bare skeletal structure. His breathing, if one could call it that, has elevated in his excitement for feeding. The bones are wet but anything that once covered them is gone. He leaves her skeleton a pile as his bloody mass turns his attention back towards the young man with the mangled head dangling from the car window. Approaching the car, he pulls the rest of the man through the window down to the ground and drops down tearing into the man without a future’s flesh. More of his blood pours when the skin is broken and the red is vibrant against his naked white skin. The Zombie tears large pieces of meat off of the man’s person by the handful. The sound is slimy, wet, and thick as it often does with the tearing of raw meat. He rips through the human with ease and the meat peels like bloody Velcro. Lapping up as much DNA as he can, the Zombie chews through the muscle before digging into the organs; everything from his intestines to his genitals.
Blood leaks from his less-than-whole stomach and digestive system as he continues to eat. If his meal continues to fall through his rotting body he may be hungry again sooner than expected. He must be able to feel it as his hand drops down to wipe and scoop up excess to once again swallow it. Not wasteful by any means, he drops down to lick blood from the dirt and rocks before going back to his food.
His head pulls, cocking to the side, jerking meat from the bone with his jaws. He eats like a sloppy child smacking on his food. He chews through fat without trouble and, when he’s through with the skeleton’s coating, all that’s left of the bloody skeletal structure is bloody cartilage and ligaments in which he sucks and picks out to finish it off. Much like the man’s pretty date, all that’s left of him is a pile of bones sucked dry by the hunger of the night lit by the moonlight. Coyotes couldn’t have picked them cleaner. It won’t be long before the insects have their way with the dry lifeless bones on the ground. The smell of blood fills the air and will no doubt attract wild animals as well as bugs. This was certainly not the night the youthful couple had planned for the evening.
So, with his belly full, it’s time for rest and he turns back towards the woods. The Zombie treks back through the scratchy brush without the drive he once had when the dead was awoken by the hunger. He crosses that familiar road beneath the streetlights leaving slimy footprints and blood trails behind him. He sluggishly moves down the road. Back at the gate, upon entering the cemetery (this rest home for the deceased), he stops and scans the land before turning back and shutting the gate with its rusty squeak. Slowly, he saunters through the graveyard back to the hole from whence he came. At his grave he looks at the headstone attempting to make sense of its writing, cocking his head. He crawls back in the dirty, muddy hole pulling dirt back over him. After his craving for a midnight snack is taken care of the Zombie is now home.
…And graves over, in this very cemetery, at another seemingly peaceful plot, the earth begins to separate and the ground’s surface breaks open.


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Originally titled The Zombie, I wanted to do a zombie story that didn't focus on survivors in a zombie apocalypse or even an outbreak but on a zombie itself going through its motions. This was set to be the first story in Stereo Falls.

Thursday, February 21, 2019

Stereo Falls and other tidbits

Starting tomorrow I'll be posting some old horror stories of mine. I'll be posting them on Fridays for a little while. A while back I was working on a horror anthology called Stereo Falls, the name of a  town that connects all the stories. Things always got in the way and it eventually was put on the back burner and left. I was revisiting them recently and hit a fork in the road. I could write the other stories and finish it, however, it's been some time and I don't write the same so it wouldn't sync up. So I'd just decided to clean them up and post them on here. Stereo Falls was to begin with the poem The Bleeding (posted last week) before the title page, then there would be 13 tales of terror. Ultimately didn't get to finish but I'd still like to do something similar in the future. I hope you read them when they drop.

Been getting some reading done. So far for 2019 I've read Misery by Stephen King and Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. Both are wonderful. I'd seen both movies before reading the books and always enjoyed them both so I wanted to read them. Misery is twisted, more so than the film. I think of all the torture Paul Sheldon endured throughout his time in Annie's 'care' the one that made me react the most was making him burn his manuscript. Not a physical blow but two years worth of work up in smoke. Cloud Atlas is quite the read, taking you through six different interlinked stories. While the book is a certain flow, going up, hitting a peak, and then back down. The movie took these and mixed them up all at the same time. The book is extremely unique and creative with each story having its own voice. I recommend both. I'm currently reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll.

Working on a lot right now, which I'll touch on later. Still don't know what is to be my third novel. My mom just read my first novel Last Rites of the Capacitance recently. While not many have read it, the reviews have warmed my heart. My second novel Blue Sweep is completely different. While Last Rites was a mix of hard scifi/horror/suspense/space travel/medical zombies, Blue Sweep is a more realistic political drama/action about police brutality and police related deaths reaching a boiling point and the citizens rebel against the police. It tackles racism, media, loss, and anger with a hefty dose of debate and violence. No one has read it. So much for having something to say. I'm working with a lot of different genres, mainly science fiction, but I'll find that third book. There was another one that tackled some important issues that I was toying with but I felt it was too big for me at the time so I ended up using its format for Blue Sweep. Maybe I'll get back to that. Who knows?

Friday, February 15, 2019

The Bleeding



The Bleeding


The Bleeding, the bleeding
O, the bleeding
It never stops
It tops
Your hands and then it pours
Out of every pore
And opens doors
To your flesh
Despite you trying
Your best
You won’t stop dying
Because of the blood from your chest
And you won’t start crying
Because you feel it’s time to rest
The bleeding, the bleeding
O, the bleeding
It never stops

Friday, January 18, 2019

Fanged Kisses


FANGED KISSES
-poetry-

Autopsy

Death – a science project
Frogs on a cold table
The life - a new born chaos
Tornado of wreckage 
Spinning across a blistering desert
Of the land of the lost
Are you the boss?
If not, your loss
My dreadful words to the world I toss
I paint inside
Something you’ll never find
In autopsy
And I sculpt outside
Something you’ll never believe
Believe in me
And my self-autopsy
I can’t hide
So I dig down inside
Up to my knees I find
…Myself
And I dig with a shovel called my life
The dirt, mud, and soil coat it so I see no light
Open me
Free me
But respect me
And my self-autopsy 
Everybody has that someone else inside
That always has to surface when there’s nothing left to hide
And I will find mine

Will find me
In autopsy


Little Johnny

Now welcome to the house where little Johnny lives
To his family, a bullet, he gives
Said they never listened to him as they put him in the car
Towns people never thought it would go this far
Although they showed no affection
They should have paid attention
Attention to this young child who was lost within his head
Johnny’s in a rage
In anger he walks up the stairs
Without a care
He sees his siblings sleep
They never make a peep
The gun shot off so quickly
No time to think
As he watches his parents fade from life
Could he say goodnight?
Doings like that are never right
But now he is both alone and not, in a way
There he sits in an empty cell by himself
Yet the memory he’s made won’t go away
Johnny’s in a rage


Pests

What do you think about life?
Tell me, is this a joke?
How much longer will I ride
Before I choke?
What’s my problem?
They are all my problem
And I will
I will solve them
It’s them I kill
No more
Will you neglect me
All the times you put me on the outside
Will not be forgotten
But while your comments annoy and linger
Like a cockroach spree
I’ve got my insecticide 
No more pests


Reaper Creeper

I’m the Reaper
Creeper
Coming to get you whenever I can
My hate discriminates more than your insane demands
Could my faith terminate society as a normal man?
Aliens bark at the moon, praying for home
Let me leave your trash planet and I’ll leave you alone
Come on outside the zone
Trademark to live, trademark to cry
Programmed to give, programmed to die
No choice but for you to be my slave
You’re human by trade
Only human by trade
Anyway the hot wind blows
Deadly inferno
Missing persons come and go
But the imprint stays
And remains the same
The corpse shell rots away
Soothing the blooming death
The maggots eat your breath
I am the Reaper


The Wedding Night

Old wedding dress, pale skin
Relieve the stress
I’ll say it again
No need to ask about preferences
As long as the rigor mortis kicks in
I don’t know why
But when I’m with her I feel so alive
A wife to die for, I’d do it again in a heartbeat
Love of my life, believe me
Well spoken - true
She’d die for me
I don’t know why
But when I’m with her I feel so alive
And through all this coldness
Love at first sight
As soon as I raised her eye-lids
Stiffness runs through both of us
So in marriage we kept it in trust
The lust
The human body doesn’t rust
It tenses and clots
It’s best when they start to rot
It’s ripe
I don’t know why
When I’m with her I feel so alive


Winding Down

I cannot sleep with the light shining through
And all the noise coming from you
Never talk to me
You’ve got nothing to say
Let me sleep
This can’t be a dream
With all your promises
Everything seems so far from sleep
Never talk to me
You’ve got nothing to say
Never have, never will
Let me sleep
Don’t make a peep
Shut up
Don’t make a sound
Your voice slows me down
And I’m winding down


The Petals of Fear

Evil flower children
Eat my soul
Take with them
Never whole
Wicked flower people
Deal with what hand I behold
Tonight’s stolen
Never whole
And I’m sold


The Sandman’s Going to Hear From Me

I can’t hold on
Life is too strong
I try to stay awake
But it’s pulling me away
Tends to be a nightmare
I don’t want to sleep
But why should you care?
The sandman’s going to hear from me
A bad dream
Your jealousy haunts you
And your desire taunts you
Wants and needs play with you
A bad dream
Somebody lied to you
The same way they always do
Another time, anywhere but the past
But you can’t ask for another you
And you run to the end of the hallway
You run until your legs give away
You run until you hit the quicksand
And you wake
A bad dream
The sandman’s going to hear from me
Another bad dream
Of watching the fall of my family
Another bad dream
Of watching a shot taken at me
Then I wake up to find
It’s all in my mind
Sleep - you keep me so tied down
Forced to witness the image and sound
Projected this all on the cranium’s wall
Another bad dream
Of seeing me blind
Another bad dream
Of guiding me while I’m dying
The sandman’s going to hear from me
Cut myself to wake up but no blood
Only air and a picture of society
Another dream through bleeding
Another dream to see
Oh yes, the sandman will hear from me


War Paint

Put your life on the line
Put your wants and needs behind
Look me dead in the eyes
Ask yourself who’s gonna die
Fists up, stand together, stand alone
Let’s go
Flesh and bone
I’ve got my war paint on
Brace yourself
Knuckles white
That’s right
Step up to the fight
Put your kickers on
Get the show going
Blood’s on fire, feels great
Keep it flowing
Fists up, stand together, stand alone
Let’s go
Flesh and bone
I’ve got my war paint on


The Thick

Uncivil tongues unleashed
Death, destruction
Dead, malfunction
Death, incineration
Dead, cremation
Death, cerebral
Dead, physical
Death, emotional
Dead, conceivable
Why?
Why can’t you see?
Can’t you believe?
Why can you see without having to open your eyes?
Can’t you believe it’s all the same in your mind?
See me
Believe me
Liberty, liberty
Yeah, right
No more liberty
Walking through the field of bodies
That cold stench of corpse
Condemned hallways
Flaming lobbies
Found the war’s core
Found reality in a war zone
Found the front line at home
Reaching out I touch the piles
Run my fingers through the dead air
The feel, how vile
Victims’ flesh - rare
I find the patriotism rather obese
Yet nothing makes up for the deceased
Bury me
The soil’s filling my lungs
Hearing the distant chatter of flapping gums
All spawned by political tongues
Uncivil tongues unleashed


The Hollow

Dear mother
I’m sorry
Sorry I didn’t call today
I’m just busy with the life you gave to me
Dear all
Thanks for pretending
I love you all
Hate you all
Depending
Doesn’t matter now
We’re all disbanding
Why does it hurt so bad?
I guess we’ll never know
No more pain
No more shame
A day without all the rain
Would be great
In my home
My home
It’s where I’ll be
As a whole
Why does it hurt so bad?
I guess we’ll never know
I guess it’s all in what we show
…And we’ll never know
Now we’ve found time to write about our lives
It’s what no one knew that we start to define
We’ve been faking our happiness
Just so we don’t have to show our loneliness 
Look inside and find hearts of nothingness 
So they follow 
Inside the hollow
Thirst striving
We’re hungry
Don’t know why we’re so angry
Like a plaguing disease
Can’t shake it
Can’t ignore it
It creeps up on you and me
So loudly
So they follow
Inside the hollow
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers
We tried to show you the real us
You just didn’t want to believe us
But we forgive you all
The writing’s on the wall
So glad you follow
Welcome to the hollow


Salvation, Salvation

Day in, day out
I block it out
But the bad in my life won’t go away
Until I see your light of day
Why?
Why do I deal with such hateful people?
I pray and I pray
That the evil in my life will go away
And I pray the trouble will let me be
I pray
Night in, night out
I sit and pout
About my unsatisfied life
But the truth is I live better than some of you
So why inside am I so hateful?
Is it because all I’ve had of love is a handful?
So I pray and I pray
The conflict will drift away
And I pray the bad will leave me be inside
So I’ll continue to pray
Until I see your light of day
Save me
You’re the only one that knows what I need
Help me
You’re the only one that I need
So take me
Something’s in this freedom
No one knows what I’m looking for
Something’s in this kingdom
No one knows what I’m wanting more
Take me up with you
I don’t need this
Surpassed it
I passed this
Wake me up
Take me up
Salvation, salvation


Vampire’s Rose

The sun will rise
And the rose will bloom
Must have been your eyes
Lighting up the room
I take a deep breath
And count up to
The time it takes
For me to get to you
A man will die
And a lady will cry
All it takes
To get things right
A little tragedy
A little comedy
Next thing you know
A happy family
I’d die for you
No one but you  
How do you do
Those things you do?
Open your eyes so you can see
Just what this is to me
Open your eyes so you can see
How much you mean to me
A rose is a rose
Red’s the faster love grows
Black’s the faster life goes
Much like the one lying on my doorstep, its death
A lifelong debt to pay
You can only run so long in this race
But only if you can withstand the pace
Dodged yet another date with death
But its fate you have to face
So if there’s someone out there reading
I can’t help wondering
What would this race be like without me?
Just another day without you with me
Please, Mr. Destiny - play that song for me
The song you played
…When we were all just roses in bloom


Skin

A sky cloud free
Allowing me
To finally see
What’s in front of me
This new planet
This new land
Followed the rabbit
This couldn’t have possibly be planned
So I shed
For my surroundings
In which most have bled
For days upon landing
What this is that’s coated me
Random bliss and completely me
Show me a world that needs no skin
Now point to where I begin
So to begin
I lend my skin
Thorns pricking my feet beneath me
I don’t have time to bleed
Focusing
Naked and lost
But at what cost?
All my dreams come true
Produced and confused
All this 3D rollercoaster of scenery is completely fused
So come with me and we’ll see
The path we take is neither cold nor blinded by rainbow
So let’s go
We could see each other again
All we’d have to lend - our skin


Refugees

Hype-hungry media posts the shootings in schools
Kids die every day but never make the news
A lie, a back stab, all a mind twirl
Too many lives demolished just to polish the world
It’s hard to fight for what is right
When you’re the only one not blinded by the light
Of the glamor and fame
Everybody knows the game
Everybody knows your name
But you have to be good because you still feel the same
The truth within your mind
You have to fight
The truth we need to find
Fight for what is right
Show me something more to life than money
Economical cannibal
Nothing sacred or spiritual
All the actions only mandible
Treated like animals in a cage
Sharing the same name
A barcode
Across the forehead of you and I
Only to help them soften the mold
Copied
You’re copied
You’re a clone
Scream to the microphone
Scream bloody murder until there’s no tomorrow
But be looking over your shoulder 
For why you’re a clone
Comes through your stereo
Big man’s on the throne
Wrong man’s in the chair
Witness eyes are sewn
Always have done what they say
Why should you care?
Don’t let the drones
Drag you away from life
No
Self-esteem below your soul
Brought to attention
You’re lower than zero
Keep it on the down low
Decisions are made
It’s the big man’s house we raid
Big man’s on the throne
Wrong man’s in the chair
Witness eyes are sewn
The message you blare 
Big man’s on the throne
Wrong man’s in the chair
He’ll never see home
With no one to care
Nobody’s a zero
Everybody has to play hero
None of us will ever get a tribute
So what’s the point to contribute?
Too many victims to list them
Between the lines - a message
Fight the system
So you came to a country where it’s free to live
High risk to take
More pride to give
A place where you don’t hide your past
Your past hides you
In the back of your mind
As you’re locked up for a false charge
You’ve got time to unwind
Mistaken identity
Perception’s not in the eyes but in the mind
Now’s the time 
He thinks - kill the man
Cover it up with special effects and make them understand
Fuck you, fuck them, they don’t know
Everybody put down for thinking aloud
If that’s freedom, please lock me up
No need to feed the greed
Drag me
Pull me
Drag me down
We’re thinking aloud now
Kill me off for my thoughts
Don’t worry about the battles I fought
Now it’s time to pull me down
You try to put that hand over my mouth
Too late - we’ve got people speaking what they’re thinking
Can’t shut us down
Drag me
Pull me
Drag me down
We’re thinking aloud now
Too much heat
No more sleep
Now we wonder why
We can’t survive
Can’t live in this box another day
Hopefully soon this will be a memory
However a memory that will haunt me
Taunt me, and release me through a melody
Blistering - we’re all in this room
And it’s getting smaller
Fourteen to fifteen billion stand alone yet together
Away from home
Heat stricken and suicidal
All while holding their own
What’s the point of never showing enough?
We know sometimes life is just too tough
What’s the point of always holding it off?
I’d wait until tomorrow, too, but tomorrow’s come and gone
Behind enemy lines
The point of no return is in their eyes
That’s right, piercing through our disguise
Ties us up so you can’t hear the cries
We think until our thoughts are suffocated
And this is how liberty dies