Necrowreath Chapter III: The Day The Stalls Stood Still

Black cotton shirts crashed all around us as I led Miller across the club’s floor. He grabbed on to the back of my shoulder, shielding himself from the blizzard of bodies while I pushed through the storm.

Images of great ships swam through my mind. They sailed through dark, violent seas where no man was welcome. The men scattered, panicking about the decks as great waves crashed against their wooden vessels. Grey swollen clouds smothered the sky and the sea opened, a deep giant spiraling hole that reached to unknown darkness.

“You may not cross” The pit spoke to me in a chorus of whispers. It flung more bodies at us, obstructing our path with the bones of its servants. “You may not cross but you may join us. Become one with us and share in our destruction”

The headless organism swam across the floor awaiting my answer. Its colony of heathens flowed in pure ecstasy, radiating in the strangest of colors. I wanted to join so badly. I wanted to give myself to the pit’s will. I struggled and fought against my urges but with a single moist touch the pit reached out to me, and my body began to ooze and bind with the others.

“I’m sorry Miller”, I thought to myself as my skin melted like wax into the pit. “I want to help you but I can’t. It’s not who I am. I belong here with them.” My body began to mosh violently, my head banged up and down, side to side, while my hair whipped like the bright flames of a wild fire.

“Yes, join us.” The pit whispered. “Enter my maze of torment and I will show you things that no life should see.”

“Oh, the brutality”, I screamed as I smashed through the sea of heathens. “May this madness last forever!”

A cluster of Bodies crashed against me, sending myself reeling to the edge of the pit.
“Yes!” I shouted, “More! More!”

Boosh!

I fell to one knee as another mass of bodies smashed into me. I lifted my head from the ground, my brain rattling inside my skull.

“This is amazing”, I said to myself, lifting my body from the floor. I turned around and out of the corner of my eye I saw Miller. He stood in pain clutching his stomach like a disemboweled man.

“No!” I cried out. “Not now! I can’t! I promised I’d help him!”

With all my strength I pushed myself away, tearing a giant hole in the pit. The pit screamed out in pain at its gaping wound. Bodies bled from the gash and spilled across the floor. The pit throbbed in anger, turning a crimson red as it’s wound scabbed over.

I knew there wasn’t much time. I grabbed Miller by the shirt and yelled, “We must cross now”.
A gruesome roar bellowed through the speakers. The ceiling lights shifted from side to side as the vocalist spewed out chunks of his intestines across the microphone. The music became faster, heavier and the pit began to spin out of control.

The ground shook beneath me. Bits of the ceiling fell to the floor, shattering upon impact. I ran with Miller as fast I could, dodging fists and feet as they attacked.

“Faster” I shouted to Miller. He ran as quickly as he could but he was not fast enough. Body after body smashed against him as he tried to pass. “Come on! You have to cross!”

He drove through the crowd with all his might, clothes lining and shoulder blocking his attackers when he let out a terrifying squeal.

Thwack!

It sounded like two hollow pipes colliding as an elbow smashed into Miller’s jaw. His white, crooked teeth were red with blood and his limp body started to fall. I grabbed him by the arms and struggled to keep him off the floor

“Wake up” I shouted, slapping him in the face. “Wake up”

We were being hit on all sides. An elbow, a leg, a giant head, all smashed into me until I could stand no more. My feet shot out from under me and I crashed into a puddle of alcohol. I tried to pick myself up but it was no use. My body just seemed to flop about like an earthed fish as dozens of feet trampled me.

“This is it”, I thought to myself. “I will die here, on this floor.”

I sunk deep beneath the pit as more bodies smashed me into the ground.

“Well, if I am to die then I am glad it is here in this tomb.”

There was no sound only darkness that crept into my ears.

“May my splattered body soak through the floor and may my blood run through these walls.”

A slight tingling ran through my fingertips as my lungs deflated.

“May this giant, hollow rock feed on my corpse and swallow me whole.”

All sensation left my body and my eyelids opened without sight.

“May my flesh spread through the foundation of this building and hold it strong”.

Limp, everything vanished.

“May I haunt Vie Future forever!”

Nothing.

Psshhhhhhh!!!

Bodies exploded in every direction as six heathens hoisted me in the air. They held my lifeless body above the crowd and played with my carcass, passing it along a sea of hands. I had dared to challenge the pit and now it had taken my life. My skull would be smashed, my brain would be splattered and my lungs…… My lungs!

The toxic, fog filled air slipped inside my cold lips and filled my lungs with one last breath.
“No, not yet!” I cried as blood rushed through my barren veins. “My bones are not yet buried and I am not yet dead!”

I tossed and turned above the crowd, squirming to be free. Nine hands reached up for me. They grabbed my arms and legs and pulled me to the floor, sparring my life. They vanished quickly into the darkness of the pit and left me searching for Miller.

He stood close behind me. His jaw was red and his face was full of fear and concern.
“What happened to you?” he asked me.

I looked at him; ready to describe the most amazing experience but struggled to find the words.
“I’m not sure.” I said, staring at him blankly and we with a few steps we left the pet.
…

We stood on the outskirts of the pit, in a dank corner and watched it from afar. Wind from the stage fans blew through my hair and rustled my sleeves.

“I’ve never seen anything like it” Miller said, rubbing his bruised jaw beneath the glow of the green stage light.

I took a moment and watched the great beast as it swam across its concrete sea.

“I know”, I whispered, wiping the drool away from my chapped lips and motioned to the stairs above us.

The stairs of Vie Future were old and decrepit. Scores of vomit were spattered against the black rotting wood and the steps were smashed and splintered. I placed one hand on the railing and invited Miller to walk before me. Holding his stomach he took the first step.

I followed behind him. Open Grave had just finished their set and the pit dissolved. I had made it a half way up the stairs when I felt something wet at the bottom of my foot.

“Fuck” I muttered beneath my breath, wondering if I had worn a hole in my shoe.

I lifted my foot with both hands, balancing myself in a figure four and examined my shoe. There was no hole that I could see but I knew it was there. Where the fuck was it?

Smack!

A body plowed right through me, almost sending me tumbling down the stairs. My armpit fell upon the railing and I clung to it with both hands. It was a young teenage boy, freckled, with strawberry blonde hair that barely passed his chin.

Before I could pick myself up and yell a series of the most vile and grotesque insults imaginable another young man with thick hips and shoulders came running down after him.

“Where are you going?” He shouted. His belly bounced as he jumped down the final two steps.
The strawberry boy whipped his head like a snake and curled his lips around his front teeth.

“I’m leaving!” he screamed as spit sprayed from the corners of his mouth. “ I hate it here. I’m going home.”

Home? I could not believe what I was hearing. Didn’t he understand that we have no home? This place, this is our home.

“Stop being a little bitch.” The large one said, pulling his pants up with both hands at the side of his waist.

“Fuck you!” screamed the freckled boy.

“Fuck you! Fine. Go then, you pussy!”

“I hate you”, the strawberry blonde child yelled in a tantrum just before storming off across the floor.

“Wait!” I shouted to Miller, who slowly progressed up the soiled steps. He turned around, his eyes looked at me and then settled on the child.

“What is it?” Miller asked, clutching the banister.

I watched the child’s hair bounce across the club’s floor. He stomped all the way to the ticket booth where the burning witch sat. A shouting match began between the two. The boy screamed and flailed about violently. His face turned purple with rage as he lifted a grey trashcan over his head. Mexican food and plastic cups spilled across the floor and he slammed the trashcan against the ground.

My stomach rumbled and veins bulged beneath my skin. I grabbed on to the banister and began shaking it violently. The women leapt over her desk, scattering flyers and jumped to the floor. The strawberry boy lunged at her with both hands, reaching for her throat. They wrestled against the wall, pinning each other against the concrete. The woman grabbed him by the hair and smacked him across the face with one hand and then smacked him with the other. The boy’s face was stained red with handprints and he cowered against the wall. When she released him he let out a shriek that echoed throughout the entire club and ran for the door.

I looked up to Miller. My eyes were wide and full of anger. “I don’t like that kid.”

“Dude, he just got his asked kicked. Lets go.”

I slowly calmed down, realizing that Miller was right and continued up the stairs. While we climbed the steps I kept my eyes on the woman below. She paced about nervously, picked up the trashcan and returned to her desk. She sat there for a moment unsure of what to do with herself and then reached for a drawer. I stopped at the last step and continued to watch her.

“Come on man”, Miller said, hopping from foot to foot.

From the drawer she grabbed a set of keys. She stared at them, and then quickly left the booth towards the front door, vanishing from sight.

A bead of sweat dripped from Millers brow, his teeth were pressed firmly against his lower lip.
“I’m gonna shit my pants, dude!”

“Ok”, I said, now that the woman was gone. “We can go.” We walked across a crusted red carpet floor and through a narrow wooden hallway. Splinters two inches long jutted from the walls of each side. At the end of the hall was a single open door. Emitting no light the door swelled upon each corner, protruding from the wall like a throbbing orifice. Above the door sat a neon sign that spelled “Gentlemen” in cursive writing.

“We’re here” Miller gulped, his feet squishing as we entered the flooded tile floor.

We stood in a dismembered line that resembled more of a gathering than any kind of single order. The men in line chugged their beers while waiting for their turn and occasionally spat upon the floor. The room itself was small and oddly shaped, like an arrow with a broken end. Names, phone numbers and evil images were carved into the walls. A broken sink lay on the floor and above it was a sign that read, ‘Employees must NOT wash hands’. At the narrow end of the room were two stalls that stood like tombstones. They were foul, disgusting and had no doors. Only one was usable as the stall to the right was covered in caution tape and sprouted water that flowed to the floor.

“Got any advice for me?” Miller jokingly asked as he nervously looked around.

“Just don’t look at anyone while you shit”, I said and checked my shoe for holes.

Several men now stood behind us in the doorway. Impatiently, they sprang to their tiptoes, long curly hair bounced on my shoulder as they looked over me. A powerful flush ripped through the room and was accompanied by cheering, praise, and a crushing of beer cans. The next in line took his spot at the stool and relieved himself quickly. As he walked away from the john, his feet skidded and he sled across the slippery floor. His arms flailed backwards trying to keep his balance. He reached out for help but everyone leapt back in fear of going down with him. Just when it looked like he would be left swimming upon the polluted floor he managed to pull his legs together and casually walk out like nothing had happened.

“Ok, I’m up” Miller said clearing his throat as he approached the inevitable.

A large crowd stood around me, mimicking guitar riffs with their vocal cords. As they filled the rancid room with their music I continued to examine my shoes, making sure that none of the soiled water was leaking through.

“Oh, what the fuck!” A voice beside me whispered.

Gasps and moans echoed through the room. I turned my eyes away from my shoes and towards the Stall. There I saw Miller, too terrified to face the crowd, he had dropped his black denim pants around the curly hair of his calves and straddled the toilet, facing the wall.

“That is fucked up”, a voice said.

“Yeah, fucked up man.” Another agreed

I watched for far too long as Miller sat backwards on the stool. His head hung low and he slumped his shoulders. I started to breath heavy. My heart pounded fast and my palms began to sweat. It was too horrifying. I had to go. I slowly walked backwards, unnoticed by the others who looked on in disgust.

I made it out of the stalls, away from that nightmare and into the hallway. The only thing I wanted now was to return to the show.

Crash! Boom!

A commotion erupted. There was yelling and screaming, followed by panic. A horde of my dark brothers came running up the stairs. They were climbing over each other like bugs, trying their hardest to get away, away from what?

Boosh!

Another large noise sounded from the front of the building. I ran to the stairs through the oncoming mass. My wet shoes squished along the carpet as I raced. A muffled voice yelled out from a loud speaker but the words were much too distorted to be understood.

I hung over the banister, my eyes searching for an explanation. Bodies raced all along the floor like chickens without heads. What was it? What happened? Where was she?

“Run! They’re here! Run!” yelled a voice, hysterically from the crowd coming up the stairs.

They all ran by me, the look of horror in their eyes. A tall, sinewy young man, strung out on fear clawed his way through. It was his voice that yelled above all the others.

“They’re here! Oh my god! They’re coming”

He ran by me and I leapt on him like a hawk. My hands clutched at the collar of his sleeveless shirt and I shook him.

“Who’s coming? Who’s here? I yelled at him.

He said nothing, lost in his fear. I shook him like a rag doll, gripping him by the neck.
“Tell me!” I screamed.

His eyes rolled around like pinballs, his nostrils flaring uncontrollably. Vile sprayed from his mouth as he wretched and then he turned to me. His eyes showed more fear than I have every seen before. Gasping for air he told me, “It’s the cops.”

Necrowreath Chapter II: The Witch

Yellow and Green lights swam across the stage, twisting and turning frantically upon the band. The Fog had swallowed Evil Slime completely leaving only their sneakers visible as the haze ascended towards the ceiling. Cymbals crashed and pics scraped violently against their guitar strings. My eyelids grew heavy as I listened to their screeching guitars and I closed them completely.

With my eyes shut a vision crept into my mind. I saw a women’s face much like the women who sold me my ticket earlier in the night. I saw her dark hair blowing recklessly in the wind. I saw her pale white skin turn pink as blood rushed to the surface. I saw her body tied to a stake while she screamed in agony.

“Witch! Witch!” A small medieval crowd shouted from their cobbled streets.

“Burn Her.”

“Kill her.”

“May she rot forever!”

A man with a black hat, dark clothing and heavy beard walked towards the pyre, which stood below the woman. He looked into her eyes and said nothing as he lowered a flaming torch into the heap of dry brush.

Orange flames danced upon the wooden stake and slowly crawled up the women’s body. Her legs, her arms, her breasts had all completely vanished within the flame.

Black smoke filled the sky above her head and the roar of the fire soon silenced her screams. The onlookers drooled with excitement as they watched their witch burn.

“Foul Women! This is what you get when play with Satan”, a man screamed as he tightly held his young daughter by the hand.

The woman’s black hair was now glowing with fire, the orange flames burned brightly upon her scalp. The blue sky of day had now vanished under the black smoke of night and the woman’s face retreated into the colorful shadows of the fire.

I opened my eyes and looked upon the stage. The burning flames of my vision transformed into the yellowish green haze of the fog. I could still see traces of her face descending back into the shadows as she opened her mouth for a final breath.

“Ugghhhhhhhh” gargled the PA system.

A head slowly emerged through the fog. Long, curly black hair fell from both sides as the man’s features came into view. The Fog radiated and flowed like liquid around his face. He pulled the microphone before his lips and tilted his head to the ceiling.

“Ahhhhh……We are Evil Slime. Until next time, keep oozing, you sick fucks, and remember to stick around for Open Grave, they’re up next!

I stood in the now empty mosh pit. My shirt was torn at the neck and drenched in other people’s sweat. With both hands I reached behind my head and pulled the wet rag over my shoulders and off my body. Scratches appeared all over my skin along with tooth marks and fresh bruising. I rubbed the soiled t-shirt against my eyes and tried to make sense of the vision.

I kept seeing the dark women from the ticket booth tied to the stake while the town screamed for her death. She was alone with no one to help. There was no one to listen to her cries, no one to save her from the mob as they burned her alive.

“Vie Future” had grown quiet as the band tore down their gear. Most of my fellow mosh pitters stared blankly at the empty stage, waiting for the next onslaught of music-induced insanity.

“That’s right, my brothers”, I thought to myself. “This is who we are, this is where we want to be.” “We don’t want to be part of their blissful society. We don’t want to take part in their witch burnings”

My shirtless body made its way across the hollow building, to the corner of the room where stood a small line of misanthropes all wanting merchandise. As I stood in line, my long blond hair in tangles, I pondered the meaning of my vision. I could not believe that it was merely a fantasy of my sick adolescent mind. I could not believe that it was hallucination caused by a perversion that festered deep within me. No, it was none of those things. It was much too foreign and much too real.

It seemed like an omen that was passed to me by some kind of psychic force. It was trying to tell me something, trying to warn me. An uneasy feeling overcame my body as I felt my nerves begin to rattle. Something would happen, here in “Vie Future”, but what I did not know.

I reached the front of the line where two members of Evil Slime sat. They each held a 24-ounce can and rummaged through a small brown box looking for a sticker that a young man requested.

“Shit, where the fuck is it?” The bassist asked

“I don’t know man, Tommy packed this shit.” responded the guitarist.

“Ah, here it is. Here kid."

"Thanks, man”

The bassist took a chug from his beer and sat back down in his seat.

I looked at the t-shirts that were pinned to wall behind Evil Slime. I took my time until my eyes settled on one and said, “that one, right there”, as I pointed to a shirt with a man’s brain exploding through a nuclear reactor.

The bassist took a moment, gulped his beer and stared at the bites and scratches that covered my skin. He slowly lifted his eyes towards my face and put his beer down.

He fumbled for a moment, going through boxes of t-shirts, shifting his gaze from the shirts to me and back to the shirts. He pulled out a black shirt from what seemed like an endless pit of black cotton and held it out in front him.

“Here you are, man.” The bassist said as he passed me the shirt.

I took the shirt and pulled it over my head and onto my body. It fit perfectly. Must be Blue Grape I thought to myself admiring the shirts shape.

“I’ve fuckin seen you here before, man. You’re fuckin wicked “, the bassist told me as he poured beer down his throat.

I nodded my head in appreciation and handed him a crumpled ten dollar bill.

“Oh, no man. It’s cool. It’s on me. Just fuckin wear that Shit! Yeah Man!” He shouted as he shook my hand and pulled me in for a heavy hug.

I walked away from the merch table feeling like some dark siren had breathed fresh life into my dying lungs. I felt free, strong, and wicked. The thoughts of my vision had seemed to pass as I no longer dwelled on its meaning. My fellow comrades, dressed in black, marched up to the stage for another round of bashing their guts against one another and I was eager to join.

Open Grave Started smashing their cymbals and thrashing the strings of their B.C Richs. I started towards the floor. My grin although sinister, reached from ear to ear with excitement. I was just getting ready to dive back into the mania when Miller came running up to me.

“Crap, man.” Miller said as he bounced around and repeatedly looked over his shoulders.

I looked at him, did not say anything but offered him an expression of concern.

"I got to go the bathroom", He said.

"OK", I responded and began to head towards the floor.

Miller blocked my movement, placing his hand on my chest. Sweat dripped from his brow as he struggled to breath

“No you don't understand," Miller exclaimed as his eyes settled on the stairs above. "I got to take a shit, man!”

I watched the mosh pit as it erupted with insanity, devouring all those who came near it like a black hole. I wanted to jump in but knew I would have to wait, as I could not let Miller go up alone.

I looked to the stairs above and said, “let’s go”, and with that we headed to where no one wants to venture, a place we called “The Stalls of Hell”.

To be continued…….Next Week……..for real this time.

Necrowreath: Chapter I

Over the holidays I received many requests to write about a Christmas related event in my life. All those emails were sent straight to my trash. I'm not going write about that shit and you can say all you want about the winter solstice and the roots of paganism, I don't give a shit. I'm not into it and I don't care. But then I got to thinking and I remembered an old story in my life. It is a tale of rebirth and discovery and it just so happened to fall on that day when the Earth is farthest from the sun. This story is very dear to me and I am reminded of it every time I feel its cold silver pressed against my chest. This is the origin of the Necronomicon medallion.

Chapter 1

A black hood covered my head as I walked in the rain. My hands sat deep in my pockets seeking warmth and shelter from the cold night. Beside me walked my friend Miller, whose sleek dark hair ran longer than even mine. I no longer require friends in my life as I think they are pointless but I was young then and did not know the things that I know now. Besides, Miller had a car; a used CRX and I no longer wished to travel by the mercy of my feet. Now, we were headed to a place that was known as "the Stalls of Hell" and I will get to why it was called such a name, but first I would like to tell you a little about it.

The actual name of the venue was "Vie Future" but we could not pronounce it, so it stayed in white lettering against the black wall and never left our lips. A strange thing about “Vie Future” was that no one knew what city it dwelled. It was somewhere between Los Angeles and Carson but its location did not appear on any maps. I remember onetime someone said that we were in Pomona and everyone laughed. I didn't get why we were all laughing but I laughed anyways.

The building itself was large, blockish and black. The surrounding structures were all made of brick, but this building seemed as if it were made out of one giant hollowed stone. The sidewalks were disfigured by uprooting trees and across the street sat a vacant lot that was overgrown and teeming with tumbleweeds.

Every 4th Saturday Miller, myself and many others made the exodus to Vie Future. We arrived that night just before 6 and we waited in a line that wrapped around the building like an intoxicated centipede. We stood still for an hour, not saying much, as this is not a crowd who liked to speak. Many came alone and were not well versed in conversation. They much rather preferred to furrow their brows and fold their arms in a uninviting manner than to engage in any kind of discourse.


The line finally started moving and we slowly made our way through the trail of flattened beer cans to the ticket office. Behind the counter sat a woman nearly twice my age. She sat in her stool completely bored. My young hand offered her a ten-dollar bill, which she placed in a small safe and presented me with a red raffle ticket.

I stood for a moment and stared at her hair, which fell upon her shoulders like black ivy. Her eyebrows were arched aggressively against her milky face and her full black lips slowly parted. A tender scarlet tongue licked at her lips, moistening her soft mouth. She slowly turned her head and for a moment she stared into my eyes. I imagined all the dark desires that must dwell in such a women. Her deepest urges raging out of control like a wildfire. There was such lust behind her eyes, such yearning for a man who could take her to the darkest regions of fantasy.

"Next!" she said, making a face like she had bubble gum in her hair and the trailing line pushed me away.

I entered the club, my feet sticking with every step upon the alcohol-bathed floor. Red paint peeled from the hole-punched walls like burnt skin. I walked to the empty stage that sat like a great catacomb upon the room. Several young Hispanic men, clean-shaven with thick, flowing brown hair pushed their amps on to the stage. They plugged their Carvin and Marshall amps into a power strip and the youngest bent to his knees and poured a clear liquid into a small black box.

A dark rich fog sprouted from the black machine and flowed through the room like a river empties into the sea. Oh, that beautiful, sweet smell. I tilted my head back and allowed the fog deep within my lungs, filling myself with its intoxicating scent. I exhaled the thrilling breath and entered into a state of euphoria. All things dark seemed to travel through my body in a cool winter embrace. My fingers tingled and the sensation passed between synapse to synapse until every ounce of my being had been touched by this wondrous feeling.

Other young men soon gathered around me before the stage. I looked over my right shoulder and watched the crowd spill onto the floor. Degenerates and outcasts, loners and misanthropes made up the oncoming horde. They wore black t-shirts with sinister fonts and their dark faded jeans shapelessly settled down their legs. They stood before the stage like it was an altar of sacrifice and awaited the musical offering that would creep into their ears.

A drum roll bled through the air as green and yellow lights settled on the band. They all looked to each and nodded their heads.

"We are Evil Slime!!!" The singer screamed in a mangled, ghoulish voice. He held the microphone in both hands like a strangling victim and let his eyes roll back into his head.

"This song is called 'Open The Nuclear Gates!"

Blast beats erupted from the drums. Feet, arms and fists flew by me in every direction. My body no longer able to contain itself exploded in violence. My head rocked back and forth, my arms swung uncontrollably and I dived deep within the whirlpool. Bodies crashed against me, elbows ravaged my face. I pushed back at them. I grabbed at their shirts and pushed them away only to invite their return.

The music fueled me. Every note pouring in my ears like gasoline and I stepped on the accelerator. I crashed through the pit, smacking into every conceivable person. I was in a demolition derby of human bodies and we smashed into each other with the greatest of pleasure.

I grabbed on to the back of two shoulders and yelled at the top of my lungs, "Artillery, Destruction. Nuclear Eruption. Open The GATES!!! Open The Nuclear GATES!!! Open The GATES!!! Open The Nuclear GATES!!!

All the others erupted just as I did. They yelled the words so ghoulishly that their larynx's bled. I watched them clash into each other and I momentarily stopped my assault. I felt something in that pit that I have never felt before. It was some sort of camaraderie; a belonging, an understanding that I have never had with others. It was this building, which seemed to speak from beyond it walls and welcome us. It nurtured our cravings for evil things and filled our hearts with dark delights.

We were outsiders every else. We had nowhere to go, nothing to belong to. The towns we lived in were rotting with two car garages and evangelism. Parks were filled with families passing footballs to their young children and old women walking their dogs. Our schools were bursting with bright colors and outrageous spirit. They believed they could "fix us" with positive inclusion and morning prayers, but they were wrong.

We didn't want to belong to their brightness nor their smiles. We did not want to change to their moral ways. We had to escape. Our hearts searched for something darker than could be found in suburbia. We needed a place where we could be wicked and left alone, an environment where we could dwell and not be found. It seemed like they would never let us be and we would be forever doomed to their sheltered, respectable streets. Then, when all hope seemed to be lost we found it here in this tomb of a building that we called “The Stalls Of
Hell”.


Stayed Tuned for Chapter Two……Next Week

Dad Part 5: Oh, Mortiis, May You Fly Forever!

My body froze as I watched Mortiis approach me. I wanted to run far away from the forbidden creature, but my feet sat like great stones upon the permafrost floor. His frostbitten lips ran with saliva and the ice cracked with every step of his cloven hooves. My heart sank deep into my chest as he came closer and closer.

He breathed heavily and began to drag his foot like an injured animal. I stood motionless, every breath escaping me as he came within steps of my presence. His skin could only be described as corpse white and the veins in his body appeared as frozen rivers encased beneath his flesh. Mortiis lowered his body, placing his hands to the ground and on all fours he began to circle me.

Fear plagued every inch of my body as the Goblin ran his prosthetic nose up my leg. He sniffed relentlessly, twisting his head from side to side. My heart pounded and I felt my arteries begin to burst. I wanted to say something and I felt the words begin to form but no sound left my mouth.

The strobe light continued to flash and I felt my feet slowly sink into the floor. Mortiis raised his head from my leg and I stared into his eyes. Behind those eyes were a thousand stories, all too unbelievable to be told.

A smile began to form on his face and he rose before me. He looked at me, waiting for my response, waiting for me to get the joke. I felt neither laughter nor amusement. Instead, my mind began to whirl and my head grew light. I turned my attention away from the smiling demon, as I was l flooded with nausea. I looked to the hedonistic crowd while they danced under the yellow and green lights. Their clothes where drenched in sweat and they smashed their reproductive organs against each other.

I clenched at my stomach, struggling to hold the meals inside me. The hammer like beat of the music pounded the nausea deeper into my gut. I watched as the crowd began to melt. Their bodies forming a fleshy blob that swirled like tie-dye. The blob slid across the room much like a gastropod and grew larger, swallowing all things before it.

Mortiis placed his rotting hand on my shoulder and began to laugh. His laugh echoed through the entire building, drowning out the music.

"Come with me. It's Ok" Mortiis said as the room collapsed upon itself.

I do not know what sort of spell had been cast or drug I had unknowingly ingested, but suddenly my environment had completely changed. I existed all by myself in a small-lighted area, where there were no sounds or words spoken. Several meters to all sides of me was darkness. Beyond the darkness were deeper shadows, which seemed to vibrate slowly. There was a large pop, and from above a light shone on me brightly. I covered my eyes with my forearm, shielding myself from the luminance. The darkness taunted me, daring me to step closer. I wanted to enter it and swim within the morbid void. I imagined my body swirling through its black fluid, my hair becoming tangled in its shadows, my skin soaking in its mystery. My eyes burned as I peered into the depth. My whole life I felt had lead to this moment and it was time for me to enter this great black sea.

I shook nervously, my body overcome with anxiety. Sweat dripped from my brow as I tried to find the courage to go fourth. So weak I had become in this final moment, my moment of truth.

"Click, clack, Click clack."

I turned my body clockwise, listening to the sound. It came from the shadows and grew louder as it continued its trail.

"Click, clack, Click, clack."

A figure began to take form from within the shadows. It's black outline turning grey as it came to the light. There was another pop from above and a new luminance flashed across the space settling on the path of the traveler. I waited for the figure to emerge wondering what life prospered in those shadows. A cold white face spilled into the light and Mortiis once again stood before me.

A deep rumbling laughter surrounded me. It was the sound of the darkness finding life in my feebleness. A smirk grew on the face of the goblin who clutched a rusty silver cane. He began to speak to me but cut himself short with two fingers pressed against his lips. His body turned and he threw his arm to the air like a beloved thespian and upon doing so the darkness erupted with applause. Claps, and whistles, holler and hoots roared from the abyss. Mortiis nodded his head and bowed to the admiration. He then turned his attention to me. A great pressure fell upon my heart and I choked on the air. The Shadows grew completely quiet as the environment filled with anticipation. I stood silent, strangled with self-consciousness. It was my time to act but felt I had forgotten my lines. Mortiis's smile fell from his face and was replaced with disappointment. He let out a shrug to the shadows and giggled, shaking his head.

"My boy, my boy”, said Mortiis as he threw his arm around my shoulder.

He chuckled, looking into my eyes and gestured towards the great sea of black.

"What's in it? What's there?" I asked the goblin

He laughed, slapping his hands against his knees.

"What's in it?" He repeated mockingly. "Ahh...What does it matter, you will never go."

His words were true and I wish that they hadn't been. I wanted nothing more than to wander into those depths and lose myself in its tide. Free myself of earthly torments and surrender to it unknown space. My mind was set but my heart proved weak. A life I spent traveling the left hand path, taking every decaying twist set before my journey and now here I stood at the revelation, trembling with weakness.

"I can't do it", I said. "I want to but I can't."

Mortiis looked at me with great thought. His head slightly tilted towards his shoulder, his eyes turning to the ground.

"A life you have spent in shadows and now you fear this?" He said, slowly stepping back.

"Just what is it that you think you will find?"

I looked to the ground, not wanting to answer his question.

"What is beyond this blackness? What is in the dark? What is it that haunts you so?" Mortiis asked.

I could not look at him for I was too ashamed of myself. What had become of the child who had dreamed of the City of R'lyeh? What happened to the young man who envisioned a world where the elder things laid dead but dreaming? Perhaps the answer was before me, within my grasp but I declined to reach it.


"Maybe this is what you search for." Mortiis said as his cold hand reached for his face. He grabbed at his prosthetic nose and began to pull. The Flesh ripped from his cheek, and blood flowed down his chin. I stood to my feet and watched the goblin pick and pull at his flesh. His black fingernails dug deep, clawing away at every tissue, and every piece of meat that made up his face. His skull ran red, a crimson mask that dripped to the floor and flowed like a river to my feet. My shoes soaked in his plasma and I felt a sort of brilliance that one feels when he looks up to the stars.

He ran his fingertips against what remained of his face and wiped the blood away. His face shone with great luminance, flooding our environment with its rich light. He came closer to me reaching out his hand with compassion. As I looked at him in this new light I expected to see the mutilated face of a mad man but instead standing before me was the face of my father.

"It is time for you to go" He said, as he held my hand.

"No, I don't want to. I have to ask you something"

"Not now. You must go"

His luminance filled the darkness much as the dawn bids farewell to night and I felt his hand dissolve in my own. I reached out in the blinding light trying to grab hold of the entity before he dissapeared.

"Wait" I cried. "I'm ready. I want to go."

All things flashed before me like an atomic explosion. I fell to the ground, vomiting out the poison that was in me. Cigarettes and plastic cups littered the floor. Feet kicked all around me as I tossed and turned through the filth. My head spun violently and puked all over the kicking shoes. Bits and pieces of my day’s meals covered their laces, which continued to strike at my body. I needed to leave. I needed to gather my senses but I was too sick to move. Not knowing what to do I grabbed on to a kicking leg. I held on with all the strength I had while the leg attempted to shake me off.

I was in great danger and completely powerless to the angry feet that wished me harm. I feebly started to untie their laces in a ridiculous attempt at an offense. Then, I felt invisible hands reach beneath my arms and I floated above the floor. Angry, blurry faces screamed and spit at me, cursing the day I was born, when suddenly, a great force whisked me away. The lights and faces of the club streaked across my vision like the sights of one who travels between the stars.

"What's happening? Where are you taking him?" I heard the two girls yell out before I was pulled through a large door.

I hit the ground with a thud. To sick to feel the pain from my body crashing against the sidewalk I ran my hand through my hair, pulling it away from my eyes. Streetlights looked down on me, their cyclopean eyes finding pity for me. I wasn't sure if I was planning to get up. I felt content to stay there and so I relaxed my eyes and drifted away.

When I woke to the bright color of day I struggled to remember the events that left me lying on the warm asphalt of a city of industry. I splashed a little water from a nearby puddle against my face and ran my hand against my neck to make sure my necronomicon medallion was still there. I soon started a long journey back home, which gave me plenty of time to ponder my adventure. You may wonder what it all meant and I would love to tell you only its truth eludes me as well. I like to imagine that like a hero I have undergone some sort of triumphant change from my ordeal or that a wisdom or discovery has been brought to my understanding. If only life were like books where climax brings resolution, but those are things of fiction and have no bearing on reality. Instead my life continues as it had before. I wander through filth and search deep into darkness, never sure which great mysteries life will throw before me, or what evil brews in my cauldron gut.