Monday, September 29, 2014

Friday, September 26, 2014

Black Sacrament (First and last line)

The sky above the port was the color of television, turned to a dead channel. The sky started to let go of the water it had collected in small sprinkles. The six bodies bobbed in the salty water. Six bodies, six children all under the age of ten. They had been dead for hours, missing for 74 hours. The police arrived and started to fish the bodies out of the water, being as careful as possible. The first child that they had brought out and set carefully on an open body bag, was a little girl named Mary-Ann Sarah Patterson. She was Seven years old and had curly red hair. She had thick string tied through the tops of her hands and her feet. She also had a string that went around her neck. She was dressed in a blue Dutch styled dress. In fact the next three girls were just the same. There was a four year old named Jessica Lain Monetary that had her mouth sewed up, probably to keep her from being loud. There was two six year olds named Lacy Ray Smith and Patricia Kaylee Deeds. These two had their eyes sewn shut. The two boys had masks on. One of tragedy and the other of comedy. Tragedy wore a blood red vest and comedy wore a stall green. The police tried to take the masks off but they were sewn on. The two boys also had the same thick cord that the girls did. The police put all the bodies into a body bag and then went home. They didn’t search the area, they didn’t look for evidences. They didn’t even look for witnesses. The police had been looking for the children for 74 hours and by the time they found them they were tired. They had decided to pick up the search for more clues the next day. Later that night the police captain’s two daughters, Louise and Sydney, were getting tucked in by their parents. While the parents were walking out the father happened to look over to their desk and saw pictures that they had been drawing. The father walked over and picked up the first picture. The picture shown of a person dressed in a jester’s costume with fiery red hair. He was bending over a stage with six puppet sticks in his hands. The six puppets all looked like the six children that the police found. “Louise and Sydney, who is this?” the police captain said as he turned around to face them. Louise and Sydney sat up quickly and smiled and looked at their father. “Daddy you don’t know the Jester man?” Sydney said as she grinned at her dad then to Louise and back to her dad. “He is the one that runs everything. He is the puppet master, he is Cicero. You know that daddy. Sydney and I talk to him every night.” “Girls I don’t think I have. Can I meet him now?” the father said as he sat on Sydney’s bed. The smile on the two girls face went away and they both looked at the space in between their beds. It was like someone was talking to them. They turned and looked at their father and smiled. “Well turn around and you can talk to him.” He turned around and saw nothing. He smelled a putrid smell and felt the hot breath of someone breathing. Yet no one was there. He stood there frozen. Then all of a sudden he fell to the ground. When he awoke he was in a large room. The putrid smell that laid in his conscience was no more. He tried to move but was held down by the chains around his limbs. And he was cold, he was freezing. The cold slab of rock burned his back with the ice. The room was ill lit and the air rumbled with dust. A door opened and beings in red and black cloaks filled the room. They surrounded the room and set their gaze to the man struggling on the altar. A menacing laugh also filled the air, seeming to come from everywhere. “You couldn’t have just left well enough alone.” A voice, not friend but foe said with such madness. A jester popped into the menacing picture. “What do you want from me?” the man felt frightened and yet somehow brave. The jester laughed and skipped about. He jumped onto the slab on which the man was pinned down against. “Well you see Mr. Police man…” he giggled “my associates and I” he pointed around the room then looked at the man that lay beneath him “don’t appreciate you trying to find my toys…my puppets.” The jesters smile faded and he looked at the man with utter hatred. The man looked at the jester above him with disgust and said, “how could you say they are your toys, they are just children. You’re a sick fuck!” he yelled The jester glared and got down to the man’s face, “do not forget whose house you are in and where your place is,” he whispered “Mr. Police Man!” he said with such hate, his face was twisted and full of madness. The man’s face turned white and he felt the warm rancid breath of the jester. The jester stood up and walked five paces to the right and turned around to face the man with a big smile on his face. “Now, I am Cicero, the puppeteer, the king of madness….” His voice turned grim. “The jester of the Dark Brotherhood." The jester motioned to his followers and said “Come, Children, let us shut up the box and the puppets, for our play is played out."

Wednesday, September 10, 2014


Caged by society, Muted by madness, Chained by containment. Freedom lusts, Happiness laughs. The cage rusts, The muted becomes loud, The chains break.


One second I saw black, then I was running into the brightest night that ever shown its face. The blindfold that had seized my sight was long gone by now, laying on the ground not knowing what to do with its self. The dead leaves and the earthly things crumbled and snapped underneath my weight. I saw the towers of the city at least a mile away once I cleared the menacing woods. I had no idea where I was for the past days, I could barely remember my name. Oddly enough I kept running. Whoever or whatever took me, I couldn’t let them get me again. The cuts and gashes that covered my body burned with the autumn air. The dried blood cracked with every movement and my mussels hurt more than ever. But I kept running. I didn’t dare go on the road or anywhere close to it. They might find me. I couldn’t feel the earth underneath my feet anymore the cold had possessed them making them numb. My lungs burned within my chest yet I kept running. I came in to a big field with cows and a little house that rested on the edge of it, in the direction of the city. The house was sleeping softly. This field was big but I was driven by my will to live to cross it. I was running as hard and as fast as I could when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. A ball of light at the edge of the woods directly to my left. Could that have been what tormented me? I had no doubt in my mind. Fear welled up inside me and I ran faster, harder. It started to come towards me quickly. I knew I couldn’t out run it, but I had to try. I was coming upon the house when I noticed that the ball of light right behind me. I plunged into the darkest hole and it was over.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Sleepover Scare

The little child sat on his bed with only one thought in his head. A sleepover of fun and every chore was done. He picked up the phone and called his friends, one by one. They all came later that evening, one by one. The children stayed up all night but when the clock struck one, the host said “Let’s play a game. A game of fun. A game of hide and go seek.” The children all agreed with the host. The host was the seeker and naturally the children were the hiders. “Ten….Nine…Eight…Seven…Six…Five…Four...Three...Two, One. Ready or not here I come” The host counted with such joy and yet there was a hint of madness in his tone. He went to the kitchen and found none of his friends. He took a knife from the dishwasher and then the eeriness of the whole game started to settle in. One of the boys was hiding under the bed, another was in a closet and the last was hiding in the dryer. The host walked slowly. “…London…bridges… falling down… falling down…..falling…” he stopped singing as he stepped into his room. He held the knife behind him, resting softly in his hand. His eyes were timid yet filled with the madness that lived in his soft tone. He studied the room. He knew of the little boy under the bed, holding his breath so the host, his friend, could not hear him. The little boy shifted as the host walked around the bed and looked in the closet. The host walked to the end of the bed and got down on all fours. He peered right into the little boys eyes with the only thought of causing him unlimited pain and torment. He stared at him for what seemed like hours before he dragged him out and plunged the knife into the heart of the innocent child. The scream of the child aroused the tortured soul of the merciless host. So long he had craved the blood and the sight of the blood oozing out of the body. He took the knife out of the motionless body and stood up over him. The host put on a smile and started to walk out of the room to find the other boys. “London bridges…falling down…” The other two boys heard the scream but thought nothing of it. They heard the host singing and thought nothing of it. Little did they know that they were going to die, one by one. They giggled and laughed and held their breath when the host got closer. “…Falling down…Falling down…London bridges falling down. Falling...” the host stepped in front of the closet and turned the handle slowly. He then cracked the door to where only a sliver of light ran in the closet and clutched onto the little boys face. The little boy saw the host get in front of the crack and peer in. He saw the menacing grin on the host and he felt the aura of the dark infested being that stared strait at him with such beautiful madness. The host opened the door and stood there, knife at his side. The little boy had a big smile on his face “oh you found…why do you have a knife?” his smile faded as the host closed the door and darkness engulfed the two. “…down…” the host whispered. He stabbed the knife into the boy’s right eye and shoved his arm into the little boy’s mouth with such force that it broke his jaw. The host ran the knife over the boy’s throat swiftly. His jaw just dangled and his eye and throat just oozed blood as the host began to stab him in the stomach. The little boy just lay there in a heap of flesh and blood. Motionless. The host stood up and walked out of the closet, dripping in the blood of the two fourteen year olds that lay victim from societies spawn of darkness. “London bridges…falling…down…my…fair…lady…” the host whispered once he came into the laundry room. The host put down the knife and walked over to the dryer. He turned the knob to high heat and braced himself against the dryer door. “Sorry, friend.” the host spat in such an evil snare. He pressed start and the banging and screaming began. After a few minutes it all was silent. The host opened up the dryer and the burnt and broken body tumbled out. The host kicked it and walked out of the room with the light on. In fact every light in the house was on until the host walked out of the house and disappeared like the morning fog rolling through the soft grass.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Burnt Darkness

Burnt orange by the sun, Left to plunge into the deepest darkness, Rotting like a fallen plum.

Wild Truffle

With all this emptiness, In all of the deepest darkness, Leave me to my madness, Drowning in my agony. Tripping on the stupid things, Rusting in my own self pity Untrusting of other people, Future lies, Fame dies Laughter with slaughter Essentially everyone must die.