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Canto IV: Stains of the Past(R)


abstrect-christ
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abstrect-christ

Shots ring out cutting its way

through droplets toward a Shadow

impeding millions as they accompany

gravity toward the pavement.

 

Our dance of the dead began here:

 

I.

Running, convulsing, rib cage inflamed

her screams were breaking the shadowed

silence of a city gripped in terror;

reports of a skirmish had spread:

Handcuffed downtown this combative

charged with assault on police officers

and a young blonde --

no identity we could only hold him,

not even a sanitarium could identify him;

 

checking his finger prints deemed impossible,

blood work was all we could use --

what kind of street resident erases their prints?

 

II.

Like a tectonic plate losing tension

the crash quakes through all the levels like

an explosion in the Phong Nha caves,

chaos much the same -- he was gone, missing --

the rain was flooding the sink and toilet

as it fell from the concrete roof now turned into

debris of rebar and dust.

 

Too late however I could only observe the aftermath

and macromega-

Movement in the corner, It stayed watching me,

as if to observe something -- someone -- familiar to It;

unholstered I shot penetrating It's external abdominal oblique muscle

the hollow point digging into the liver surpassing glandular functions,

destroying them the more tissue its mushroom effect cleansed

It's reddish brown river of bile till it

exited out the latissimus dorsi causing an animal like cry;

 

not a Falcon nor a Bear

but of an Anteater and Gray Wolf.

 

Shot, It moved faster than my seasoned finger

spreading It's wings, going for my neck, moving quick

feeling a warm drop of blood hit my cheek;

continue pursuit confident the wound would mire It's ascent,

It vanishes in the low lights of the city --

I call in the murder keeping the children away from the living room

and take blood from the perforated edge

then investigate recent photos for connections.

 

Fifth Victim Incites Riots and Rage

"Where's our justice?!" Calls crowds at all precincts; "what do we pay for?!" Screams a crowd outside City Hall. Since the fall murders began some protesters have started to shove and provoke police officers arriving to and from duty, some demonstrations have turned to deadly riots after passionate protesters have thrown bricks and rocks at main floor windows breaking them and others molotov cocktails at hoods of police vehicles. Damage to precincts, cars and City Hall have reached the mid thousands, more modest protesters have been arrested spray painting in black the common phrase echoed on all sides of building in all languages: "What's legal when the watchmen have cataracts?"

With chaos comparable to a Greek demonstration Police Commissioner Urich speaks with authority and confidence over uncouth and angered commentary, "The Police are not leaving any details unchecked in the investigation into these gruesome and horrific murders. We are aware of the danger this criminal represents to your lives and are working vigorously to apprehend him or her. I ask you to cease the violence, vandalism and riots because that impedes full progress in our investigation and your safety, I would also like those who have taken to civilian arrests and vigilantism to discontinue activity's that engages criminal activity. If you are a neighborhood watch we advise you call the police before acting, criminals can be armed and dangerous -- the culprit of these murders especially. If you would like to help our investigation we have a phone line open twenty-four hours, seven days a week for reports on suspicious activity or sitings that may lead to putting handcuffs behind this serial murderers back." No other details were released on the investigation.

by Ed Guerro

 

III.

Impossible!

That Thing was... Him?!

 

Even more impossible was the name that came up.

Fall, 1991:

"What's her name?"

"Alisha Kouvak"

"What happen' here?"

"Well, let's see if you come up with

the same hypothesis:

Blood on the end of the bed, sons prints all over the knife

and the victims face frozen in terror like a wax simulacrum suggests

she pleaded before her son slit her throat

and for some reason searched her on the inside after she fell back

and bled out 5 inches from the head board-

What was he searching for?"

"E' have a diary? Form motional' release?"

"No, officers searched his room thoroughly, It's like yours or

mine at his age."

"Time bomb, we'll never know why; continue."

"He then cut a piece of skin from his arm,

and using rope from a tarp in the basement tied a perfect noose around this visible wooden beam

and stepped off the chair-

The only thing he'd have heard before he died was the snap of his neck,

why the skin?"

"Check for drugs in the system, istory' of hallucinations-

Good work."

 

It was my first case with violent crimes,

looking at original photos you wouldn't think it though:

The body hanging, the familiar background --

it was black, charred and in pain,

entrails appeared to be dried out and barely touching the stained carpet below

red from the pierced throat and deeply cut chest;

knife had once been on the bed beside his mothers corpse but

was now among the crimson vignette 25 inches underneath the floating corpse --

 

Does It stalk It's prey?

 

IV.

"You're dealing with a Demon, a physical embodiment of a tortured soul."

"Forgive me if I'm not religious,"

the Professor of Paranormal Phenomenon smiles.

"You're murderer isn't human,

he's a time capsule of a past memory;

it explains why there's been no intelligible evidence or witnesses.

It's a creature of the shadows, of a world above or below us;

gravity, air, oxygen, It wasn't born in either, It's chrysalis was dark matter."

 

"So, It's a Spectre."

"Exactly, your Wraith seems to be stuck in a memory

of extreme violence -- It hides inside a host during the day

then comes out before dawn...

you know this," he says noticing my unsurprised look;

"what's It's appearance?"

"Black, large and perilous wings, sounds like an animal when hurt or threatened,

possibly extra cognitive, and built body mass; seemingly invulnerable."

"Here, I've marked the page," I read the preface:

 

That is not dead which can eternal lie,

and with strange aeons even death shall die.

-Abdul Alhazred

 

by Jeremy Swyck

(7/24/10)

Edited by abstrect-christ

Pinhead

"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."

Joey

"I don't believe you."

Pinhead

"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBPy3xNwwL8

"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough

https://soundcloud.com/relapserecords/sets/cough-still-they-pray

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rosschandler

good reads. epic tale. so complex and full of metaphoric conceit. cryptic. this read was particularirly earthy and primordial energy and glow to it. a deep brown , amber, rusty lead heaviness to your words. i find it important to tell a writer when i get the chance , what type of "aura" or energy their piece envoked from me. some of us are sensative to energy and can notice it spiritually, emotionally, physically and psychological. to feel a color. to see anger. colors are nothing but energies vibrating at their particular frequency emitting their energy across the spectral realm, and poems , like yours, vibrate at their own frequency so i not only mentally enjoy your words but i see the glow of this piece as a very deep read, complex, rich so i sense an ominous heavy vibe. your imagery is brilliant though. like bright mica crystals.

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I love it how the news reports still speak of the perpetrator as an ordinary criminal. :)) It's anything but ordinary. Loved this part:

 

... causing an animal like cry;

 

not a Falcon nor a Bear

but of an Anteater and Gray Wolf.

 

Shot, It moved faster than my seasoned finger

spreading It's wings, going for my neck, moving quick

feeling a warm drop of blood hit my cheek;

continue pursuit confident the wound would mire It's ascent,

It vanishes in the low lights of the city --

 

I'm looking forward to enjoying number five soon!

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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abstrect-christ

thanks ross. :-8)

Pinhead

"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."

Joey

"I don't believe you."

Pinhead

"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBPy3xNwwL8

"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough

https://soundcloud.com/relapserecords/sets/cough-still-they-pray

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Now, we have two story-tellers. This one is so gothic, AC.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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Your writing is expansive and interesting. This piece almost reeks of torment in a circle of Hell patrolled by a mythical creature. Benjamin

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  • 4 weeks later...
abstrect-christ

thanks guys. :icon_cool:

Pinhead

"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."

Joey

"I don't believe you."

Pinhead

"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBPy3xNwwL8

"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough

https://soundcloud.com/relapserecords/sets/cough-still-they-pray

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