beasts

I could hear them coming for me. I could hear everything which surrounded me; the birds, the falling leaves and the sun. I could hear the loud roar of that unforgiving ball of fire as it shot beams through the foliage. I heard the hounds baying through the dense forests of Malvachia, my home.  My mind was a whirling mass of emotions and...fears. But among the sounds; I could hear the hooves of those horses and the chatter among those greasy burley men...the huntsmen of Malvachia. They were running me down and they were enjoying the prospect of skinning me a live and throwing my bones to the ashes. But more that, they would enjoy taking me; each and every one of them would take me at their pleasures before feeding me to the flames. I read each and every thought that fleeted through  their minds as they searched for me. And the thoughts were thus-Each of them force feeding me Aconitum while I writhed beneathe their sooty fingers...gagging me with some putrid cloth to keep me from biting and as many ways as they could deter and keep the beast at bay, they had made plans for thus. My senses were enthralled by the horror of it all. As well as my senses being alive with the thought of that one man in the group who secretly wished me no harm...at least no harm as to kill me.  Underneath his fervent agreements to end my life, he secretly wished that I could outrun them and run to him instead. On some night, after the hunt had been called off...he knew what he would do...or at least he fantasized and entertained thoughts on the matter.  Alongside that blasphemous thought  of secretly finding me and enjoying the pleasures for his own...he hoped that I would offer myself up to him freely for  he, being my savior, would expect this. I could feel, I could hear and I could smell all sorts of things. I could smell this man and his scent was stronger than the others...not a bad scent but a passionate thing which wouldn't let up. I raised my head to the touch of the breeze...nose to the wind.

 So many things invaded my being that I was losing my sense of direction. I held on tight to the bark of a pine and tried to steady my breathing. My body reeled and rocked; my breasts heaved against the laces of my corsette making the breathing yet harder still.  The smell of dead venison caught me off guard. It was not long dead but it was already ruined by its on excrement. It drove me a little crazy making my pupils dilate and my mouth water. I turned toward the rancid smell and caught the smell of live wolf...just wolf...not wolf as I had become. As I turned away from the carcas and its predators, I smelled the hunters were  growing closer...still fast on my trail. I had no choice and I couldn't stay here. I had to run again and so I ripped a wider potion of my peticoat from the hem of my dress and prepared to gain distance between me and my certain devils. With a purpose that I was unsure of, I rose from the forest floor and made my way to somewhere .

After gaining ground, I found the place. It was just as it had been before, when Petra and I had hidden from the other children of the village. The caverns seemed smaller than before. But, since I had been starving myself, I was able to squeeze into the mouth of the west end. I held tight, my little velvet bag filled with Aconitum, vetivert and horsetail; these being very important herbs and medicinal objects. I wriggled this way and that until I lodged myself firmly in between two large crevices.  There, I  found rest just inside the mouth of the Dachal Caverns....and so I slept for a while. No beast disturbed my slumber...nor my dreams....excepting the beast in myself.
....................

I dreamt of him again. He was gaining on me but he was growing nervous. He knew that the others would kill me so he was thinking of a way to assist me in my escape. I heard his thoughts as they raced through his head and I was curious by him. I knew that I should not trust him because he was human and humans are never what they seemed to be. Why did he really want to help me; it could not possibly be only for carnal reasons. I could feel his presence in my sleep and felt, that part of his mind was trying to link with mine. And I saw his eyes ...they were the most beautiful blue and unyielding that I had ever seen.  But, despite the beauty and allure of his gaze, there was something very painful residing within this man.  Unlike most humans with such pain; I could not open his soul to my reading. And so, I opened my eyes and saw the wet rock in front of me. I looked around and all I saw was wet rock. I heard the trickling of water in the distance and I heard the trotting of horses. They were very close and their arrival would be soon. But, the most important question was, would they find me? Of course they would find me or their hounds would. I could hear the barking grow louder making my ears itch and I could smell them too, their rich blood, similar to mine. There was at least 8 of them and they were on my scent. I could not stay here but was it too late to run? My pulse quickened and I felt my teeth pushing through my gums. I was having a very hard time keeping from anger and my mouth was bleeding because of this fact. I reached up with the strip of peticoat and wiped my bloody lips. I just could not seem to keep from tearing my gums in both anger and hunger. My instincts and strange ways were taking over me..the beast wanted out and it wanted out now.

"no..." I whispered to no one and then crawled deeper into the cave. As I crawled, I pulled at my little velvet sachel and took a few twigs of Aconitum from the bag. I slipped the bitter weed into my mouth and  chewed fervently. The effects were quick.

I wondered what to do now. Should I drop the bloody cloth and hope that the scent of it would deter the hounds long enough for me to get through to the other side of the cavern? Should I hope for nightfall and desist from taking the Aconitum, thus releasing my curse to welcome them? But I wasn't sure that I could take them all and the hounds too. Should I call for others fore I knew there were others in this vast forest who would come to my aide if for nothing more than a free meal. I had many options and so I kept crawling. My fingers dug into the earth as I pushed along. I tucked the bloody cloth into an alcove in the wall and squeezed through a small hole to my left. I heard them as them came to the opening of the cavern. Their minds were confused and chaotic. Some of them wanted to go home now, now that the sun was traveling further down the horizon. Some of them had grown angrier and wanted to find me all the more. Some of them were climbing down from their steeds to ready themselves to enter the cavern. And some of them were talking about the thing that I wished they did not have the intellect for...some of them knew about the other opening to the cave and they were trying to remember its exact location. These were the ones whom I truly feared, the ones who were smart enough to follow through. Then I felt the fringes of his thoughts again and I saw him. He was very handsome, dark haired and average build. A beautiful man really...he turned toward the setting sun and spoke his concerns for his huntsmen. I saw beyond his concern to something foreign. I pulled myself away and continued to climb further and deeper into the caverns. I dropped the Aconitum onto the wet cavern floor and used my body to shimmy yet into a smaller crevice in the rock. It was only a matter of time now...until there would be only one option...to feed.

Sacrifices

The fear was crippling. It gripped her and brought her back to reality and reality was not where Penelope longed to be. She knew in her heart that she wasn’t meant for this time and age. She knew that somewhere and somehow, her people were meant to be free. A freedom where colored folk weren’t colored folk at all–they were just folk like the rest.

When he put himself inside her, she would think about how good it was living in the big house. Penelope was just what her master wanted so that she got the nice food, the nice clothes and then sometimes a nice word; if she behaved. Her mind seemed to transition to a place that made her something other than African American but not quite white. No, Penelope didn’t have all the privilages but she could pass and the master liked her alot. She was in the best place, in her opinion, that any colored could be in.

Master only asked her to do it occasionally; so what did it hurt? It wasn’t as if he asked her to do it on a regular basis. Penelope was special to master and when she did it right; he let her stay with him for weeks on end, in the big house. Penelope learned to swallow it and move on and yes, she knew she was a sell out but life was like that. She felt the baby kick and it reassured her that she was doing the right thing. Penelope smiled and rubbed her belly thinking of her beautiful child inside her. Nothing would take that from her…not even her own people could take the miracle. she swallowed the huge lump in her throat and tried to steady her nerves. Tonight, she would have to do it again. She was so nervous that her hands shook in convulsions but Penelope clasped them together and said the lord’s prayer. Yes, the lord understood her. Her knew the life she had to protect as a mother. He understood…surely he understood.

Penelope stood beneathe the tree with the the whip in her hand. She thought about the coaching she had given herself at the ranch house, she thought about her baby which kicked her now suddenly and she stared up at her cousin who sat upon the restless horse staring at her with tears in his eyes. Penelope turned from him and stared at the beautiful sunset. This was the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen in her given life. As a calm reserve passed over her; she rubbed her belly and struck the horses ass.

With my own

It tis not as morbid as you would conjure, while drinking all dark things into the mind as with a terror tale. Of all the imaginations that can be imagined, this is something that cannot be fathomed by minds of most.

 Although it is cold here, there are no enemies at the gates, no spies on the hillside and no one is trying to wrap me in strange jackets and confine me to the dungeons. I am in freedom,alone, I am this and there is no need to pretend. For I have long since past the time that I was in need to entertain.
I roam the corridors desolate, as I have roamed them day after day and month after month. I have no regrets of this fateful decision. For many months beforehand, I have weighed my options. I have felt each consequence and each blessing and I have put them to the scale to find my answer. And there is was...the truth. sat before me, starring with orphaned eyes. I picked up the truth and held it close...examining and honoring it's purity. I knew what had to be done and it was simply nothing.
To do nothing more for the time being but to stay and to reflect.

Morning has come again and I shall not rise and greet the sun. No, this is not my time, no long shall it be as it has been. This has become my time to slumber, my time to recollect of the past years reasserting my decision. I sleep below the keep; a darkened concrete tomb that I procured from one of my unknown ancestors. They shall not sorely miss their sleeping quarters, I am sure of it as well. I laugh then at this thought as I laughed when I pulled free the dry bones to covet my bedding...and my frigid crypt. I reflect on these things as my heavy lids shut upon my pupils and I fall into the nothing ness. This crypt was sacred to me...and well below where I walked as if in human form.

 There were 256 steps to descend to my resting place. I had counted them a few weeks ago while on my descent. Everything has a number now. There are 15 windows on the upper floor, 8 windows below that one...and so on...I find details to be mesmerizing to my night trained eyes. I shall count the rivets in the stone work on the landing on the morrow. I have noticed their twinkling and shining on my way down to sleep. They demand my attention and so what's left of me shall be at their service. I count the night birds, the moths and the stray cats that wander into my lair...and I count their bones as well. So many things have numbers and my mind had never quite wrapped around this significance.

I removed the mirrors last month. I had grown weary of their insistance that I should care about my own visage. The last opportunity that I had to glance upon my face, I was shocked. My hair had grown to clear below my waist and my face was gray pallid. The dark circles below my eyes were no worse as I was so much worse for wear. A fine layer of dust had collected upon the glass and so I wiped it clean with my thin white hands. As I made this motion, I noticed the tips of my hands to have acquired dangerous talons of which I had seen no other human female to carry. I  jerked my hand away and hissed at my own reflection. My eyes were dark still and held the truth of all things. When I finally tore myself away from my self gaze, I broke the mirror into peices. Those that were not shattered I tore them down and stored  them deep below my crypt...exactly 204 steps below my sleeping place. I was then free of the sight of what I had become. And so my metamorphosis remained a mystery inside my desire to be alone...and I was alone..I was alone....

My tattered wardrobe was more than fitting for a recluse such as I had become. To more spoil and comfort me were luxurious and jewel enlaid garments left behind...but I did not have need of their materialistic pleasure. Although, for pure joy and curiosity, I would adorn such silly raiments and parade around as some other fiend unknown to me. Their heavy fabric would drag through the  dust of the marble floors as I re-enacted some silly ditty from the past, either that or I would simply roam the halls as some ghastly apparition forever grieving those who had left before. But I did not grieve a'tall; I was enamored by the empty halls and their secrets.  For, I was alone and glad in my lonliness.

Although, if mirrors were still lined upon these walls, they would say that I was terrible sight...they would reveal the thing beyond which could not be contained by those of normalacy. I was a creature of habit; a thing of human pleasure still. The pattern of cleanliness remained within me as I had been obsessed with the beautiful scents left abandoned in the vast rooms of the castle. I found exotic parfumes, oils and incense left carelessly behind by those who ran screaming on that lost and long ago night. I found Exotic Amber, perulent Rose and amorous essence of lilac. And there were powders and sweet scented undergarments. I would play and try them all to my pleasure...but I would never again look upon myself.

As I said, I was clean-a creature of habit still... I found moonlit waters along the hillside to be in perfect sync with my reclusive lifestyle and so I bathed there nightly while listening to the night birds. Then, I would stroll through the forests of the night clad as I was born. My flesh wished to feel all the things which surrounded me...in perfect oneness with my needs. I was alone...but yet, I was surrounded by things that fed and slept and drank as I did. The creatures of the vast black lands welcomed me into their habitat for a bit then crept away in fear as most other things eventually did in my presence. I was alone...

The libraries were filled and filled with parcments and volumes of lovely things...some of these things  I had already read many many times before. There were exactly 32,589 bound volumes inside the library...but I have not finished enjoying some their beautiful, deadly and destructive tales as to date. This was always a nightly habit of mine as well ; to read before the sun rose and shone its organge glow on the faded pages of a well loved story. Then I knew it was time to slumber and time to dream of nothing again. I was alone and alone I would be until I grew weary and flew away, simply traveled fast upon some other morrow. The time would come when the volumes and volumes of good works would be expended, the scents would fade fast away and I would tire of this place...called home.

Then, I would move on. But more than likely, the lovely comforting feeling of being alone would still accompany me. I had weighed these other things and they were not to my liking. I shant ever feel the warmth of  human gratitude as I had done before. I shant forget the pain of misunderstandings which made hiding, so much more like home. I shant forget the look on the faces as I stood before them uninhibited and naked in my monstrosities. I shall remain...
and remain I shall.

alone

Too late....for love

It found me…but is it too late.

It was never meant to happen. Not the words, nor the moments tilting our heads with the music. This simple game was supposed to pass the time for me and yet it became so much more. I dreamt of things as these which filled my time with wonder. i dreamt of things as these which would captivate my soul.
While in my room, just fresh from puberty, I would wonder about such fictional love. My brain would entertain the silly notions of true admiration. Oh, how I would use the hours to draw silly pictures and write silly ditties under the influence of some brandy stole from my brothers stash. I wanted lots of things on those lonely nights. I wanted to be an artist, I wanted to have freedom that I never knew before…and most of all I wanted to know that thing they called love. Love was a myth, they say–oh , love wasn’t real. They told jokes, all those elders of mine, about how love had made a fool of some poor old idiot once again. Love was devious, they said and love was the craftiest trickster. But I wanted to know him. I wanted his breath upon my cheek. Who cared what the old ones said.
I would sneak past my father’s room and sit vigil with the night, hoping I would see love pass by me. The stars watched silently as I read my poems aloud to them. One by one they winked and slowed their love for me. But, it wasn’t eough. I climbed back into my bed and exhaled the longest breath on those nights and was determined that I would meet love in my dreams. But those silly little nightmares would wear  loves mask and pretend to woo me into the night. I might awake with a moist pillow and a silly Little giggle but love was nowhere to be found.
It was never meant to happen…but love found me. But I had already lost hope in love.

The dark thing

Upon the hill in the midst of a long summer rain; puddles form and reflect a melancholy scene. A female figure is hard at work on the task that lies before her...unfinished...always unfinished. The wind blows, it howls but it doesn't cover the strain in her voice. The grunting and moaning of her desperation as she digs deeper and deeper into the soil of the cemetary. Her fingers are calloused, hard worn from night after night of unearthing the dark thing.
She stops...in the midst of her revealing and she stares down at what lies in the hole. Her heart sinks as it flies high above the knarled treetops. Her tears fall down dirty cheeks, washed only by the falling rain. She crouches down and reaches into the earth. Twitching fingers, shaking knees-she is tired from too many sleepless nights of dreaming of this point in time that reverberates and repeats itself.
The dark thing is pretty, it shines in the light of the nearby streetlamps. It twinkles in the prism of the raindrops. The dark thing stares up at her and she stares down into its depths. She pulls the thing to her chest, against her heartbeat and whe weeps fully and uninhibited.
"I shall not let you die. I shall not hide you away from myself. I will not let you be known to the others...but I shall protect you...here." she grasps the edges of the dark thing and releases her hot breath. The mist of her soul wafts up and up and then dissipates between the drops of rainfall.
"I shall not lie...I shall not hide but I shall bind my lips and take forth my tongue to protect you."
The dark thing doesn't speak to her at all. It settles within her hands and is quiet as quiet things are therefore it is inanimate. The dark thing offers no comfort for her soul. It is a text, a book a document. It is a picture, a window and a projected image. It cannot speak nor can it deliver what the girl needs to be fulfilled. The dark thing stares upward from within the clear blue of its soul...and it remains silent. It is hard, it is solid and it is expected. The dark thing is as it is and it is no more than that.
The girl screams and holds tight to the dark thing as if it were the only thing in which she could steady her rambling mind. She glances down in pure desperation and caresses the dark thing. Her heart breaks and melts into her chest. Her soul is barren, numbed by the intensity of the pain.
"Oh, how You hold me still." She lays her dirty cheek against her prize letting her matted red hair flow over its unforgiving edges. She cannot hear it nor can she feel its arms around her. She can only feel its pain that remains alien to her even now. A pain that drew her to the dark thing in her first moment of love.
Still on her knees, she takes one more look at the dark thing in her hand and then she replaces the object into the dark dark ground. The mud pools up between her fingers and reclaims the dark thing for its own. She smiles to hide the hellish pain inside and then she picks up the spade to resume her work.
Quietly and painfully, the girl buries the dark thing. Tomorrow she shall dig this hole again...as all the nights before and all the nights to come until the dark thing is nothing more than tattered remains of what she could never have.
The rain falls harder sweeping around the lone figure.  Deep within the ballroom of souls and among the cold tombs; the sounds of the night join the constant loud thumping of the broken girl's heart....
...and she bends to her task.

Kindred zombie

As Joe hiked up the trail, his thoughts returned to Marsha. Her beautiful auburn hair falling upon his chest, the small hands grasping him in joy; the pain of these memories made him clench his teeth and push harder up the hillside.

Joe remembered that they had planned this trip together; worked out evey detail of their getaway. Marsha had been so excited as she hugged him and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

 "Oh...it is going to be so much fun baby." Marsha softly spoke in his ear with unspoken promises of wild love making in the forest. "We can finally get away from everybody and all their rules."

Joe's chest heaved with the warning of oncoming tears and he mumbled incoherantly into the chilly air. He pushed onward until he entered the clearing which was supposed to be their rendevous point. But of course, she wasn't here.

The car accident had ended Marsha's life instantly. She had been on her way to Joe's house, with a sack full of movies and take out. "Just down the street.." he whispered to himself. "Just down the street..." The crazy druggy had hit her head on sending her into a tree by the road side. Joe would love to believe that Marsha never felt a thing--but whose to say what she endured.

As he lay his backpack upon the ground, Joe looked around the clearing and inhaled deeply. "Oh Marsha.." Joe lay back onto the ground allowing the slight breeze to waft up over his body.

The moon was huge this night and very red. He loved how the moon and stars sometimes came out before the sun set. Things like this reminded him of how much Marsha loved the strange aspects of nature. Joe felt as if he was not alone; and for a moment, he reached out beside him and rubbed the earth. He imagined Marsha lying beside him staring off into the wild night sky. He could hear her small voice rambling on about the constellations and odd stories about the stars and what they meant to her. Joe loved to be entertained by Marsha's random tidbits.

He gasped and brought his hands to his mouth as if he could catch his breath and send it back down. His sorrow welled up inside him and he rolled over and curled into a ball. Joe wept.

Night fell quickly as Joe  rose from the ground and scrambled to finish putting up his small tent. He seemed well prepared for the night with his big pile of fire wood and rustic cooking utensils. After completing his shelter for the night, he pilaged through his backpack looking for matches. By the time the sun set, Joe was resting comfortably by his small fire. The night made noises periodically bringing Joe back from his catatonia but when silence fell again; he was back to reminicing. After a while; Joe fell asleep in the entrance of his tent with his backpack for his pillow. The moon gazed down on Joe's tear stained face.

"Joe!" a sweet voice called. "JOe!"

Joe bolted upright wiping the drool from his face. "What?! Who?!"

A dark sillhoette blocked the moon. A figure stood above him.
Joe was scared but realized that it was woman. As he squinted, he could see features in the face; but something was wrong. Joe pulled himself up and crawled closer until he could get his feet underneathe himself. The closer he got, the more defined the features were. Joe stopped moving when he realized who his visitor was.

"What's wrong Joe; I told you I would be here, silly." The voice was raspy but sweet. She giggled.
Joe's face softened and he tilted his head. "Oh Marsha...oh my god." Joe's heart ached as tears ran down his cheek. He walked forward for a moment then stoopped. The realization of what he faced took root inside him. He became very frightened.

Marshed turned to the side revealing herself more fully in the moonlight. She was beautiful and pale except for the fact that she was missing an arm. Her lips were blue and her skin was pale white. Below her hairline was a gaping gash running from her left eye up to meat her matted hair. She hobbled as she turned an hugged herself with her remaining arm. "Oh Joe...I am so sorry."

In the light of the deep dark night, Joe stared at Marsha; truly a kindred soul...a kindred zombie. Yes, that is what she was. There could be no other explanation for her being here. But something strange stirred within him and he gagged at the thought. Joe's feelings were the same despite the thing which stood before him and he walked up to his deal girlfriend. As the breeze passed by them, he could smell the remnants of her perfume...odd and slightly stale.

Marsha's milky eyes met his and she smiled. "I am cold Joe. Would you hold me?"

Joe hesitated then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her cold body close to his. It took all of his strength to keep from weeping again....weeping like a baby. Wild emotions swirled inside his as he stroked her dry hair.

He remembered wishing for her return. He remembered crying at her grave, clawing the earth in desperation. He remembered the nights without her calls. Beyond that smell of the grave, beyond that rotting flesh; there was still his beautiful Marsha. Oh, how he loved her with all his being. He had known from the beginning that they were meant to be together.
Marsha fidgeted and turned her face to him. Her blue lips quivered. Her right eyebrow lifted and Joe knew what she was thinking. Joe didn't know if he could handle it. But as he shifted against her, he felt his desire was still for Marsha. He blushed and sighed.
"Come sweetie." Joe spoke gently as he took her hand. "Let's roast marshmellows."
Marsha followed him to the fire shambling in the moonlight.

The thing...forming

Yes...there is a thing within. It grows impatient, it grows listless and it grows....more and more each day. It does not share its host with alien life forms.

I see it, sitting in the darkness with gossamyr wings. It licks its claws and then smiles at me. I see the crimson on its lips and I know it will not be sated for long. I turn around in the darkenss and notice that there are twinkling shiney things drifting down from the heavens...dark heavens filled with stars. I think for a moment that maybe the sky has fallen and the stars are coming down to greet me. I turn toward the creature which is me and she smiles. I notice that she is surrounded by the twinkling and shining things...like a dust... a shimmering beautiful dust. She speaks to me and it sounds like tinkling bells chiming in the distance; but I cannot understand what she says.

She stands, languidly strolling toward me as her wings flutter behind her.  I see her lips purse and she says..."shhh"

One finger reaches up and brushes my cheek lovingly and then she leans in to kiss me. Her mouth is very near my ear and so she speaks again.

"Do not deny me...and I shall not deny you."

She backs away and disappears. I am in darkness again.

I begin to scratch my arms. I do not stop until I feel the blood trickle down onto my feet.