Necrowreath Chapter IV: War

Every muscle in my body tightened as he spoke those three words. A cold shiver shot down my spine and goose pimples covered my skin. Was this rigor mortis I was feeling? No, it couldn’t be. I was not yet dead.

“Listen Man, you got to get me out of here.” The man’s trembling hands clinched at my wrist, pleading with me as he dug his black nails into my skin. His brown sunken eyes were full of tears and he fell to his knees. “I’ll do anything, just get me the fuck out of here!”

Boosh! Boosh! The front door bellowed like thunder. Boosh! Boosh!

Downstairs the floor was being littered with flakes of wood, as the front door was repeatedly smashed with an iron ram. The door swelled like a bloated belly, ready to burst but two thick beams of wood lay across its center, defending the attack.

Bodies whizzed past us on the second floor, slamming into my shoulders and knocking the frightened man over. The young men rushed through us like a torrent of water spilling out of a broken damn. All I could see were their black cotton shirts gushing past my feet but I could hear the man’s screams beneath the flood. I reached in and pulled him out of the flesh filled stream before his guts were spilled along the floor. He scuttled towards me and clung to my legs for safety, “Ah…thank you. Thank you.”

My head began to spin as I watched my brothers panicking. They ran around the building like blind men, desperately searching for a way out, but there was none.

“Why are they here?” I asked.

“I don’t know. The girl, she said something about a kid and that cops were coming. We didn’t believe her, but they came and…”

The witch, I could almost smell her hair burning as it did in my vision “Where is she?” I demanded.

Bang! Crack!

“uh…I don’t know. She uh..”

Outside the megaphone continued to roar, this time I understood the words. “Come out, we have you surrounded. There is no hope for you.”

“Fuck! We’re all fucked!” A young hessian cried out amongst the screams. He placed the back of his hand to his forehead and collapsed to the floor. Several brothers rushed over, dragging him to a corner and huddled about him.

‘No hope’, was there ever any hope for us? I stood before the stairs, streaked in shadows, when a wave of images came flooding to my mind. I saw visions of churches and schools, standing hundreds of feet high, haloed in clouds. I saw images of parents and teachers, herding children like cattle and then I saw the flames.

Boosh! Smash!

The flames rose higher and higher, a great blaze of yellow-orange glow, but it wasn’t the witch this time, it was I who burned. Burning below me were skulls, skulls I once knew, looking at me with empty eyes.

Crack!

The door was breaking, and soon it would it would be nothing more than bits of scattered wood. It was my burden, my curse to save us all or let us burn.

Evil Slime came rushing up the stairs, ascending like great beasts. I turned towards them, looking for an answer, looking for a way out. “Evil” I shouted. The drummer glanced at me, catching his toe on the last step and went sailing across the floor. T-shirts spewed from the cardboard box he carried and he came crashing down belly first.

Smash! The door sounded.

The other members of the band rushed over to their fallen drummer and began filling the box with their spilled t-shirts. They could not help me; I needed someone who could. I looked to my right and found a small group cluttered together. They hoisted a man into the air and he climbed up into the ceiling tile, only to come crashing down several feet over.

Fear began to brew in my gut, a feeling I was not accustomed to. It burned inside me, paralyzing my body. I could taste its bitterness on my lips; anxiety, fear, and failure all brewing inside me like poison. I needed to act, I needed to…Chun…Chun…Chun….Chun.

I lifted my head towards the ceiling at the sound of cold steel cutting through the sky. The sound got louder and louder until a great rumble roared from above. The entire building shook and for a moment Vie Future stood still. I stared overhead and listened to the giant metal bird.

Woosh…Woosh...Woosh...Woosh

There was not so much as a whisper on the second floor. A hundred bodies standing like gravestones, until a single voice cried out, “They’re landing on the Roof!”

“Oh God! Oh God!” The man cried at my knees, his head shaking in disbelief. “Its all over. We’re done for!”

I watched the tears trickle from his eyes, and I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. I wanted to tell him that we could escape and that I would save everyone in the building.

Kaboosh!

The sound of wood shattering was unmistakable. The blast echoed through the club followed by the soft ringing of wood flakes falling to the floor. It seemed like forever, that I stood there, waiting for them. Waiting to surrender. Waiting to be enslaved. Waiting, but they did not come. What came instead was a tide of water, a quarter inch deep. It rushed to my feet, carrying bits of rotten wood. I pulled a flake from the dirty water, examining the timber closely and realized that the sound I heard had not come from the front door.

I turned my head to the hallway, where the Stalls of Hell stood and saw a horde of young men. Their black jeans were soaked to their knees and they ran like madmen before a cloud of ash colored smoke. They blasted through the bodies of the second floor, knocking them over and trampling the fallen souls beneath them. Horrible, ungodly sounds, akin to tortured swine, screeched from the throats. Their dark hair, tangled and knotted, flowed above their shoulders catching and twisting within each other. One by one they fell as the stampede pushed forward and as they did a new figure emerged from the crumbling mass. It was Miller, hurdling body after body, as the smoke nipped at his heels. His pale face was stricken with terror, his eyes bulging from his head. Faster and faster he ran, and closer and closer he came to the western wall.

It is the next few moments that remain etched in my memory like colors stained upon panes of glass. A black sea of young heathens parted above the swampy carpet, clearing the way as Miller rushed towards the wall. “Burns! Burns”, he screamed, ever increasing his speed. The tangled mess of hair and bodies continued to collapse beside him and he let out one last word, “Out!”

“No Miller, No!” I screamed

Miller placed one foot on the back of a crouching teenager and sprung himself high into the air. He sailed above the crowd, using the heads of his heathen brothers like a bridge of skulls. He kicked at their shoulders, propelling himself forward and took one final leap, his escape to the outside world.

Shards of glass tumbled to the street below, as Miller crashed through the second story window. His blood red body soared against the gloomy sky and he reached out with both hands, grabbing hold of an oak branch hanging above the street. Pigeons and other fouls flew from the shaking leaves as Miller’s hands scraped against the bark. Tightly he held on to the branch, swinging higher and higher, until his toes pointed directly up to the cloudy sky.

Turn away, I told myself; he’s no more than a skeleton in that sky. I looked to the ground, unable to watch, ashamed that I did nothing.

“He’s going to make it”, a boy yelled from the crowd. I lifted my somber head and watched Miller’s hair dangle towards the Earth. His body swung downwards like a great Olympian cutting through the air. He screamed in pain as his hands were flayed by the tree’s bark but he held on tightly completing his swing.

Applause erupted from the second story, as my brethren hugged and cheered for the first time in their lives. “He made it! He made it!” they chanted, dancing about like children on a pagan holiday. They rushed to the western wall, crowding around the glassless window and yelled words of encouragement to Miller’s dangling body.

“What? What happened?” The man asked, kneeling at my knees. “Did he escape?”

I stood in disbelief, unsure of what to think. “Uh, I don’t know, but yes, I think.”

He jumped to his feet bursting with enthusiasm, wiping the tears from his cheek. “Yes! Yes! Fuck yes! He shouted joining in the applause and celebration. “Let’s go man, let’s jump.” He stared at me for a few moments and then ran towards the crowded window.

The smoke continued to spill across the floor, bringing with it the smell of rotting fruit. Several teenagers began coughing but the crowd paid no attention to them and began to hoist a lanky boy on the windowsill.

Outside, Miller picked up his legs and wrapped it around the branch and began to pull his body up the tree. “Come on down, kid!” The megaphone demanded. A group of police officers rushed below the tree and stretched out a beige nylon net. “Jump in the net or climb down. I don’t care which way you do it but I’m not asking again.”

At the windowsill the boy stood shaking nervously. He leaned forward with both hands planted firmly to the inner edge of the walls. A line had formed behind him, all waiting their turn to jump, while a cluster of people crowded near the window.

“Come on man, you can do it, just jump”, a voice said from the cluster.

“Yeah, jump dude!” said another. A chant of “Jump! Jump! Jump!” started and the boy slowly released one of his hands from the wall.

Scores of leaves fell into the nylon net as Miller proceeded to climb high up into the tree. “I warned you. You all heard me.” The megaphone blasted before turning off with a crackle. The police officers below screamed at Miller to jump into their net, blending their voices with the chant from inside.

“Jump! Jump! Jump!”

The boy placed one foot into the sky like he was testing the water and nervously returned it to the sill. He turned his head and looked at the line behind him, and for a moment it seemed like he would step down, but the chants grew louder.

“Jump! Jump! Jump!”

There was no turning back now, his peers had spoken and they wanted him to jump. He faced the open sky and pointed a finger towards the tree. “See you in Hell, pig mother fuckers!” He squatted down, shaking his rear like a duck and loaded his legs for a great leap.

“Jump! Jump! Jump!”

He did, launching himself through the dreary sky, flailing his arms like spinning wheels. The chants grew deaf while he flew as Miller had before him, reaching for the same oak branch. He grabbed on, both hands tearing against the bark, and then, bang!

A ripping sound cut through the sky followed by a meaty thud. Branches cracked and twigs fell and Miller’s body came crashing through the tree. A police beanbag fell along side Miller, spiraling to the street below. The cops stretched their net out wide and danced upon the pavement. Left and then right, back and then forward they stepped all the time with eyes on the fleshy mass in the sky. A body clad in black came plummeting down, landing flush in the center of the net and then bouncing high back into the air. It flopped wildly, flipping backwards and then tumbling back into the net but it was not Miller.

Like a dying bird, Miller came spilling through the air. Twisting and turning, he scrambled to land on his feet, while a group of gnats encircled his body. He somersaulted forward creating a huge crash as his back collided against the black hood of a police car.

The car’s siren sounded, and several officers rushed over. “Ahhh…Fuck me!” Miller groaned. He lay on the hood like a cracked egg, wiggling his fingers and toes and slowly raised his head. Each officer grabbed a limb and with a heave and ho tossed Miller onto a gurney and whisked him away.

It felt as if they had ripped our collective heart out and ate the cold thing only to shit it back out on us. “Those assholes. They’re total fucking assholes”, sobbed a weary voice. Moans, grunts and a coughs made up most of the conversation within the dilapidated club, and although the ramming of the front door had seemed to stop the strange smoke had taken over most of room.

Outside, the mood was much different, resembling more of a street celebration than a police operation. “Two down. Booya!” An officer shouted, high fiving his partners. He turned around, wearing dark shades and stuck his large black finger at the heads peering out the window, “Gonna get you, gonna get you all, every single one of you, baby!” Laughing, he tilted his head back and slammed both of his fists against his pelvis, in a expression of dominance.

The coughing spread among the horde becoming more and more persistent as the heavy smoke filled the room. A dense patch of the grey smoke settled above my head and enveloped my body. I felt a small tickle in the back of my throat and let out a gasp. Trails of tears dribbled past my cheeks and a fire began to brew within in my chest. My lungs seemed to rise high up into my throat, choking me until I let out a most freakish cough.

The entire room went grey with the pollution and I fell to the ground. Water, I needed water. I pressed my cheek to the floor and began to suck on the flooded carpet, like a babe on its mother’s breast. Coughing echoed through the room drowning out the helicopter above and a voice close to the ground croaked. “It burns, it burns.”

It had finally come to an end. Vie Future had been found, beaten and conquered. We would be bound together in a coffle and taken back to our so-called homes. Maybe, I could do it. Give it one last shot and try to fit in. I would have to smile more, get involved, and wear more cheerful clothes but maybe they would let me keep my hair long. That wouldn’t be so bad, if I could just keep my hair.

As I lay, imagining my new life, my lungs burning from within, a long skinny hand about as lively as corpse reached for me. It fell short and clutched the carpet, pulling the rest of its body into view. It was the same man who had begged at my feet before. He raised his head from the floor, his eyes struggling to see me, and whispered, “Its over, we’ve lost.”

He coughed a little before lowering his head to the floor and lay limp with one hand stretched out towards me. He had begged me to help him but now like myself had given up. Miller tried to escape and they got him, just like they would get all of us, there was no way out. I stared at his gaunt face as it lay on the damp carpet. There was no hope left in that man and it made me feel ashamed. He had chosen me to save him and I failed. At least Miller tried. Miller went for it, the man who was too ashamed to shit face to face with his own brothers and now it was I who lay sucking on toilet water.

I slammed my fist against the ground and tried to rise from the floor. My upper torso rose as stiffly as the undead, spewing saliva from my lips. I reached for the man next to me, grabbing the back of his collar, and dragged his limp body over. The green stage light cut through the smoke enfolding me with luminance while I listened to the hacking and suffering around us. I pulled the young man toward me and cradled his head in my pit. His long lashes opened slowly and he looked to me like a dying pet. I wiped away some blood that trickled from my nose and spoke with little more than a whisper, “No, this is not over. This is war.”

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.

Dad Part 4: The Band

I shut the door behind me and the car took off. I did not know where we were going and did not care. I only wanted to leave my memories in the gutter in which I had laid.

The driver turned her head to face me, "This is Kelly and I'm Heather".

She held her gaze, waiting for my name but I sat in silence. Her puzzled face returned to the road before her where she struggled to stay within the lane. Heather continued to talk but I did not listen. Instead I watched the street lamps blur into a single beam and in it, surrendered my mind.

Thoughts were no longer of any use to me. They had left me crippled, unable to live freely and now I would abandon them. My conscience would become an abyss, so dark that nothing could grow. I would simply drift through the city much like a jellyfish does along the waves. Strangers would see my cold lifeless body lingering among the city streets and they would cry out loud that " the dead walk". I would become an emptiness, a pit of despair, and through unknown laws of physics and the perverse actions of magic I would swallow the hope of all those living and leave them with only misery.

"You look like you're in a band, are you in a band"?

I turned my attention to the side mirror where my eyes met with Kelly's. She immediately looked away, hoping that I did not catch her stare. I rubbed my calloused finger tips against my thumb and my lips slowly parted.

"Yeah, I was in a band." The words came out of mouth like the last breath of a dying man.

Heather's eyes grew to her forehead and her heart jumped just as high. "Oh my god, that's so cool! What were you called?"

Kelly's eyes met mine once more and despite her fear, she held her gaze long enough to witness my answer.

"We were called, "DAD"

Well, that was not entirely true. We were called Grave Evil, and we played music as dark as any other band north of the cemeteries. However, I had a vision of a darker passage, a form of music totally devoid of light. I shared with the other members my new ideas and told them of the black roads that we could walk together. Their excitement could not be contained and they wanted to get start immediately.

"Lets conjure up something. Get this shit going." One of my mates suggested.

I put my hand on his chest to calm him down. He wiped his hair away from his eyes so he could see me clearly and I replied, "Hold on. Not yet. First we need to make some changes. We need a new name."

They looked at each other and nodded their heads. "What were you thinking?" They asked

I paced before them and insisted that we needed a name that would capture all the mystery and and all of the darkness that is death. The only name that could fulfill my vision was "DAD".

They were reluctant towards my proposal. They called the name weird and did not understand how "DAD" was mysterious. I looked to them as an elder looks at the new youth and laid down my final argument. My words trickled through their ears, settling in their minds. A compromise was reached and "DAD" would be used as an acronym for the darkest music ever made by human flesh. Now what would that acronym be?

"Maybe, Diseased Anal Demon" my drummer suggested.

My blood boiled and my skin grew tight. They did not understand at all. My vision was too unearthly, too primordial for them to comprehend. It was like an ancient memory, forgotten by man but somehow it had awaken inside me. I pointed to the door and asked them to leave. "DAD" would live but I would have to do it alone.

I locked myself in my bedroom for 30 days and 30 nights. I did not eat and I did not sleep. I recorded and recorded until my body shut off completely. I laid on the floor of my room for days. Drowning in my own sweat and facial hair. My mother began to worry when she no longer heard unnatural notes being played from my my room and called for help. I spent 9 days in the hospital, 6 of which I was completely unconscious. There was no official explanation for what had happened but all the doctors agreed that I had suffered from some form of exhaustion. I walked out the hospital under my own strength but my spirit was broken. The record was not finished and would never be, for I was in no condition to continue. All the work, all the agony, and all the wicked beauty that I forged on that 8 track would simply waste away until all that was left was a faint note among a sea of noise.

I returned home with my head slumped low and walked up the stairs a broken man. I called my former band mates from Grave Evil and brought up the idea of a reunion but they showed no interest. They had moved on under the moniker "Wretched Remains" and were playing house parties every weekend. All I had was lost and I fell into a deep depression. I was like a soul trapped in purgatory unable to move forward in its existence. I spent most of my waking hours in the kitchen, gorging my body with unsavory foods trying to fill the emptiness. So empty I had become that I began to envy the lives of our house plants. I would stare at them for hours and ponder their existence. If I could only spend the rest of my life in a pot, growing to my full potential and then decay an accomplished vacant being.

I came home one afternoon in my usual state of despair. Upon entering the house I looked to the family den where I noticed my father. He sat like a beast of stone, cursed for all eternity to his decrepit throne. His mind spoiled from his wicked thoughts and then from his paper he lifted his eyes. We stared at each other for an eternity and I could feel the ages of hate that lived within him.

"How many weeds did you pull today?" My father asked.

His glasses sat on his nose like a tyrant looks over his city, but he was no tyrant. He was a tormentor!

"3 bags! I've done 3 bags!" I shouted, nearly bursting into flames.

I was furious at that monster. His thumb always pressed above my head cursing me forever to his shadows. He sought to torment me, to plague me with agony. Where such a poisonous creature could have been forged was unfathomable but there he sat with his troll like heart reveling in my bane.

I turned away from him for I felt like I had been staring into the sun and I clutched the stairs to keep from falling. Was this it? Was this all I would become? The thought ripped me apart, turning my innards to sludge. I gripped the rail tightly pulling my body up the stairs. My existence must be something more than a life of tortured solitude and forgotten despair.

Volts of electricity surged through my body as I fought the depression. I searched for strength to fend off the emptiness that plagued me and then, from some unknown power locked deep within me, I filled the void. I marched upstairs with a motivation that I have yet to experience again in my life. Only death could could deter me and I welcomed him to try. I shut the bedroom door, picked up my guitar and hit record. What I went through next could not be described with words nor images. I can only say that a great lunacy visited me that night and shared with me it's life.

I returned to reality with no permanent harm. I created 100 cassettes and distributed them to a select few around the world. Glen Benton, Kevin Sullivan, Whitley Strieber and others less known all received copies. After the last tape had been shipped I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "DAD" had been realized and my vision fulfilled.

"We're Here" Heather stated as we pulled into a fenced parking lot.

I exited the car and mindlessly followed them. I looked at my hands and noticed a finger nail missing and for some reason I started to laugh. I laughed until my stomach begged for mercy and I keeled over on the sidewalk. The two women stopped and looked at me. They watched with confusion as I slowly made my way back to my feet and with them entered two metal doors.

"That's Right, That's Right! This is D.J. T.H.Ceizure and I'm going roll up your mind and smoke it till dawn!"

Bodies bounced all around me as I entered the club. I continued to move forward through the sea of flesh when a pool of blue liquid flashed before me. The drink sailed through the air splashing across a young woman's face. Rage coursed through her veins and she lashed out at her attacker, grabbing her by the hair. The two women fell to the ground rolling through filth and liquor. They tore at each others clothes and ripped out bundles of hair. A group of men soon gathered around them. They jumped with excitement, cheering the women on as they pulled out their cell phones.

A fragile hand found its place upon my shoulder and lips approached my ear.

"This place is so Awesome, I always see celebs here and you can drink till 6 in the morning!"

I looked at Kelly whose smile seemed endless. She grabbed me by the hand and threw her other to the air.

"Whoo! lets' party!

She pulled me across the room yelling for her friend Heather to follow. My shoulders crashed against an ocean of stenciled shirts until we finally stopped at the center of the room. I stood there and watched the two girls as they rhythmically pressed their bodies together. Everything seemed to move slowly under the effects of the strobe light making time itself seem incoherent. Heather waved her arms and shouted towards me but I could not hear her. She shook her head and smiled as she place my hands on her hips.

"Dance with me" She shouted.

My body ceased to move and thoughts slowly crept back into my empty mind.

"I don't dance" I said, removing my hands from her hip.

Her smile vanished from her face as she watched me drift away from her like a child's toy being swallowed by the tide.

I turned around and began to make my way to the bar when an orc-ish wail ripped through the club. Coldness grew all around me and a layer of ice encased the floor. People retreated from my surroundings and I listened to what sounded like hoofs approaching. My heart raced and my hands began to shake. I whipped my head over my shoulder searching for the cause of the noise. Through the crowd I could see a shadowing figure heading in my direction. The Strobe light flashed as it came closer allowing only glimpses of its body to be seen. The crowd seemed unaffected by the invader's presence and continued to bounce and thrust their bodies against each other. I held my ground watching its cold diseased breath pollute the room. It came closer and closer, its dark body flickering through the atmosphere until finally a beam of light crossed it. I looked on as the unnatural silhouette disappeared and its face came into the light. We locked eyes and my breath was stolen. The face that stared back at me was that of a long forgotten ghost, it was Mortiis.



To be continued......

Dad Part 3: Who made you God?

I stumbled across the streets, colliding with trash bins and parked cars.  My head spun out of control but not because of the alcohol I had consumed, no, that I relished in.   It was anger, hatred, and loathing for that creature that created me.  I began to run, run as fast as I could from the torment that consumed my mind.  My shoes began to tear apart at the soles as they were not designed to travel at those speeds.  It was the spell of madness I was under that fueled my legs to run faster than any man had in the city of Los Angeles.  I could not stop myself and I began to worry that if my acceleration picked up any further I might not survive the night.

A greenish fog began to creep up from the sewers and the shrieking of the C.H.U.D.s could be heard by even the most adamant deniers.  My feet, blessed by lightning took their final step when they collided with what appeared to be a log.  My body soared through the air like a bat and met the pavement with a sickening crash.  Glass shattered and bourbon flooded the streets.  My sweet, sweet  reserve that I had kept in my inner jacket pocket had met a heinous end. I pressed my face and tongue against  the cement and with my bloody hands tried to shovel the liquid into my mouth.  "Why? Why now of all times must I endure such tragedy?"

I laid motionless in the moonlight.  Rats scurried past me and worms tried to nest in my beard. "What the fuck was that?" I shouted to the tomb of a city. I pulled myself up off the ground and examined my injuries.  My jeans had been ripped about the knees and I began to fume until I realized they were already like that. "Ugh,... my legs" the log groaned. I walked under the street lamps towards the voice.  It smelled like piss and cheese, but slightly worse.  I lunged at what I now realized was a man and with both of my hands extended like the undead I grabbed at his shirt collar. 

"Do you realized what you've done?"  I yelled, shaking the vagrant violently by his jean jacket.  

He whined incoherently and let out a gaseous cough.  Yellow and green particles dissolved within my nasal passage and I stepped away with my palm pressed against my forehead.  Dizzily, I lowered one knee to the pavement and slowly rolled into the gutter. 

Time began to slip away as it had before.  I grabbed on to the curb, trying to push myself up but my hand seemed to melt into the concrete.  Repressed memories flooded my cortex, unwilling to be subdued any longer.  My eyes crept into the back of my skull and my body convulsed against the black pavement.   Flashes of White light disrupted my vision as I soared through a sea of gas. I traveled through the nauseating tunnel at unearthly speeds when suddenly, I dropped.  My body twisted, struggling for equilibrium as I fell through the abyss.  It seemed like I would fall through this dark chasm forever when my consciousness slammed into the mind of my former prepubescent body   Coughing echoed all around me and I quickly rubbed my eyes trying to clear my blurry vision.

"Shoo, Shoo, get away!"

The memory came flooding back as I heard my Dad's wretched voice yelling at the oncoming homeless men.  His legs began to quiver and the shakes ran all the way up to his glasses.  His neck veins bulged with blood, ripping his turtleneck.  All things wicked and of disgust had formed inside of him and I was the only one who knew the terror that would soon unfold. 

I tried to warn them, "No, you mustn't"  but they did not listen.  They kept coming forward like the living dead.  They extended their hands asking my father for change and with a glint  in his eye he struck them down one by one. 

 "Shoo, Shoo!  You're a Pest!  Get away!  Stop bothering everyone! "

Mothers covered their children's ears as the homeless men recoiled in fright.  They pushed and clawed at each other trying to get away.  

"Who made you God?"  one of them was brave enough to ask.  

"God? God!  DAD made God!! HaHaHa!  

He turned his head behind him like a bullwhip, staring at my friend, Chris and I.  Chris ran away in complete terror screaming over and over again "It's not True!  It's not True!" My Dad's face turned bright red, resembling a supernova.  Solar flares tried to escape his toxic core but were only pulled back into his radiating anger.  He sweated profusely, spinning his body out of control, screaming his onslaught at the vagrants.  Those still left behind were now running away in tears at the horror inflicted upon them.  

"Shoo! Shoo!  Get away! Shoo!"  My father was relentless, totally unable to calm himself down.  Foam dripped from the corner of his mouth and collected in his beard.  His sickly grin suggested  that he received some kind of demented gratification from the incident.  I searched everywhere for an escape but found no sanctuary.  He began to make his way towards me and with nowhere to go I collapsed into the gutter.  I laid there helpless, in complete submission as he came forward.  His giant frame stood above me blocking out the entire sky so that no light reached me.

Hands rummaged through my pockets as I laid in the gutter.  My nose was filled with the stench of urine, reviving me like a smelling salt. My eyes came into focus and I watched the homeless man limp away with my wallet, vanishing into the night like a waning moon.  I was slow to gather my senses, completely exhausted from my repressed memories.  I had no money and no way home.  My mind was drained, unable to produce any thoughts but somehow I managed to seat my body on the curb.  I sat there, staring at the blue street reflectors as cars raced by leaving trails of red light behind them.  

Time slowly passed and the night was relentless in its domination of the day.  I had not moved and had not thought.  I was completely vacant, unable to come back to sentient life.

A black SUV stopped before me.  The windows were rolled down and I could hear two female voices.

"Oh, do you see that guy lets go talk to him."  Said one of the women with excited curiosity.

Her friend looked over at me from the passenger seat.  Worry took over her face as she saw my blood and alcohol stained body.

 "I don't know if thats a good idea.  He's just sitting there in the gutter".  

The driver became irritated with friends prudish ways and pointed at me, "Who cares? look at him, he's hot!" 

Her friend glanced at me once more with hesitation.  "Yeah I know, but what's that thing around his neck it looks like some kind of evil symbol?"

Her fear fed my body and I lifted myself off the curb. 

"It's the symbol of the necronomicon" I told them as I opened the car door and got into the back.  

to be continued.....