Cellar Door

The cellar door opened with a creak

Its pronouncement pregnant with possibility

Simply a venture to fetch more wine

The party well underway and raucous

Or something far more sinister

Shackles and darkness colluding

To coalesce into something awful

Is it day the safety of the sun

So effusive and grossly incandescent

Or the dead of night

Moon gibbous and waning

As you descend are the steps

Resounding with stone clack

Solid and resolute

Or groaning eerily under foot

Boards almost giving way

Is the smell stale with ages of dust

A history in scent

Steeped in abandonment

Or is it abnormally clean

Citric burn filling nostrils

Obscuring something terrible

Crimson and copper

Does wine greet you

Grey with settled detritus

Eager to be uncorked and imbibed

Upon aged wooden lattice

Or is someone else waiting

Eyes sunken and dejected

No hope stirring their bones

Blinding tile surrounds them

One simple sentence

Draws forth both these places

And stand equal in their realities

The only question left now

Which of these awaits yourself when

The cellar door opened with a creak

Halloween

Two hands clasp limply around midnight

Twelve long forlorn cries

Somewhere above

In his study

A man screams

Welcoming Halloween

 

Another stands alone in his bathroom

Hands bloody and horribly raw

Beneath in the sink sit numerous teeth

This is terrible and yet

He sees something far more horrid

He screams “IT HURTS”

 

Clutching his curtain

A different man stares sidelong

Out at the horrible thing

Standing in his lawn

Airraid siren blaring

It has begun

 

In another home some miles away

The floor creaks

Yet no one is home

And deep below someone screams

Fingers enmeshed around their chest

Probing their throat curiously

 

A woman stands in a crowd

Surrounded by strangers

Clutching her face

Eyes wild with terror

And screams in protest

“THE EYES! YOU SEE THEM! I SEE! I SEE YOU!”

 

It is still early and a young child is awake

Staring at the vent in his room

Listening for the telltale scrabbling

Of those that make them hollow

The vent shakes

He closes his eyes and begins to cry

 

The Jester calls his rebellious crowd

Prepared and ready to raise a ruckus

Their new beginning

Blade in hand

And smile wide

He turns to the lightened sky

 

Deep beneath

Somewhere secret

A bed breathes

And the man breathes too

A few behind a oneway mirror

Scribble a note or two

 

A businessman lies awake

In his hospital bed

Tears streaming down face

As he remembers

Everytime he has died

On that fateful street

 

On the outskirts

A woman tills her garden

As sun greets so lovingly

She brushes brow

Bent low and smiling

At all the faces she sees below

 

Only ten miles from here

In a sanctuary for those mentally disturbed

A man, his face bandaged tight

Screams muffled anger

At passing nurses

“I. WEAR. NO. MASK.”

 

Back in the suburbs a boy left a box

Yet as the door closed

A hand crept out

Black and crooked

Grasped the edge

And pulled as the box collapsed within

 

A vessel long from now

And far away

Turns slowly in void

Directionless

Distress transmitted

Awaiting rescue

 

Back below in a cabin alone

A man screams at the walls

Fists full of dirt

And beating his flesh

He cries simply

“THE EARTH IS DEAD!”

 

Two dance in the depths

Below crashing waves

The woman couldn’t be happier

The man’s face aghast

And twisted in terror

Is all the joy she ever wanted

 

Yet another time

Another place

Something walks in the dark

Listening waiting

And all too hungry

It hears a soft creak

 

Awake and yet not

A man eyes antiques

Something within

Is evil and cruel

Waiting to jump out

In surprise

 

Something similar haunts fever dreams

A man has unfortunately found out

He paws at his face

Disbelieving and afraid

His reflection laughs

In mocking pantomime

 

His

Heart

Is

Not

A

Home

 

In a land that is strange

A stranger is screaming

Holding tight upon the ropes

Try as he might

He cannot stop

The rise of those terrible gods

 

Rusted wire sits coated in blood

The body wasting away

Now it is cut

And taken away

And in the distance

We hear pigs squealing

 

A woman had extracted

Some weeks before

Something small and awful

Flour dusting doorway

She awakens each morning

To find yet more tracks

 

This monster sits

Smiling gladly

At the feast laid out before him

Mask porcine and old

He cries for yet more

And here comes the next bit

 

Mere doors down from the man with no mask

Another cries in anguish

His body is dead

He’s trapped within

And all the doctors

Call madness

 

As chaos consumes

And the tempest draws nearer

A man welcomes it in

He’s drawn all the signs

and he opens their door

And embraces the slithering thing

 

Trapped in memory

A fortress of his own

This man weeps for love

She is long gone

And yet he chooses

To live it again and again

 

One more ritual as the night draws to a close

The corpse is already hung

A man fed Lies Slowly Dies

He screams at the sight

Of that horrible face

And the Lord of Flies calls for his heart

 

As I type and click away

I spy something amidst the trees

It moves

And sways

As all the others

Yet a swear I spy a face

 

Lastly the man

Who fed Him all his loved ones

Giggles away with his pigs

He’s not sure just what he’s done

But he’s sure he’s had fun

And he can’t wait for next year

Swine

Fed them fat

On them long dead

And wastin’ away

Happy and snortin’

Snufflin’ and squealin’

My little piggies

No matter the decay

Or wrigglin’ things

Scarfin’ down mouthfuls

Of wife and child

Brother and mother

My unclean kin

They’s screams died long ‘fore

In the dead-a-night

Lit only by lantern light

Cleaved and hewn

Chopped and diced

A modest offerin’

Truly though its not my piggies

What I aim to please

Something much older

Pale and glistenin’

Wheezin’ and chortlin’

I simply call it

The Swine

Thumbnail source: https://jeradsmarantz.cgsociety.org/zt9o/pig-butcher

Tall

So tall and slim

Branches jutting from forest floor

Face blank

Suit crisp and well pressed

We’ve seen him many times

Iteration upon iteration

And in every art form

Shared a million times

And always he resurfaces

Never the same

But always similar

Tendrils

Spidery appendages

Minions

Or alone

Targeting children

Or the mentally unwell

Competing

Vying for spotlight

Against those other

Monstrous things

That oh so cheeky

Tilt of the head

Yes

You can see him even now

And all he needs

To live

And haunt

Is be remembered

And shared again

Horns

I was thrown to the ground

Beneath their blasphemous altar

Hundreds of candles haphazardly arranged

Their feeble light barely reaching

Only able to illuminate the surface they stood on

A rough hewn trunk of some massive tree

A book stood open pages yellowed with age

And upon the page were the words “Ritus de Obscura Luna.”

Someone took my hand and I felt a burning sting

They had cut me with something

They forced my hand over the altar

Then suddenly the candles went out

Despite the lack of light

Even from the moon

We could see

As if the altar itself effused some otherworldly light

Above where it had been hidden

Hung the torso of a man

No arms nor legs nor head

And suddenly as I watched

The body began to contort

Something sprouted from the arms

Long and curved

Two horns grew impossibly from this body

Then a seam tore along the bottom of the torso

Flesh tearing and separating

Within I could espy numerous blunt teeth

Then finally the chest tore upon either breast

And two eyes stood open

Burning fiery red as they stared down on me

“Now, his heart.”

Commanded this grotesque thing

And before it all went dark

I screamed for my God

For anyone to save me

They fell silent in return

And I died alone

Knowing only the cold cut of a blade

The Pallid Stranger

We sat close together

A simple meal

But one made lovingly

My mother’s handiwork

Just as we were about to eat

A knock was heard

Upon the entrance

A figure stood

Bent low

Casting a grasping shadow

My father rose to meet them

Asking who they were

“A simple traveler”

It rasped

“Come far far away

And oh

So hungry…”

As my father welcomed the stranger

And he drew closer

I saw a strange face

All angles and pallid white

Eyes a fierce and awful grey blue

As he came yet closer

He seemed so large

As to be ready to pounce upon us

But with a groan

He knelt

Seeming to shrink

Disappearing into his tattered shroud

My mother offered a warm ear of corn

Which the stranger accepted

Devouring greedily

Without thanks

Something about him warned me

And so I watched carefully

As he continued to eat

Having far more than his fair share

When the meal came to an end

The stranger began rummaging within his shroud

Before extricating a strange metal object

“Your payment, and my thanks…”

He growled

Before the thing belched fire

Consuming my mother

Then my father

And lastly my sisters

He turned to me next

Before smiling

And putting away that awful thing

“Welcome to the new world…”

He laughed mirthlessly

And left without another word

Collection

Arrayed in fantastic display

My vast collection of memories

From fragments to days

The whole of a life

Within a bauble or two

Here a girl’s birthday

Shown now only

As the cake she ate

And the toy soldier she was given

Yet as you gaze upon them

Time unravels

Unfurling the scene

In all its glory

The minutest detail

All accounted for

And here

A man’s first kiss

This case displaying

The car radio

Always playing Gloomy Sunday

Billie Holiday, of course

And the wheel of his car

Now it reveals

That sweetest moment

When breath was heavy

And lips finally met

Ah but here now

Look further

Something strange

And far more wondrous

This display

It…

Um

It contains only

A black ink stain

And a spilled wine glass

The night was dark

Cold and lonely

Even the coyotes abandoned their call

The wine was cold too

Chilled to perfection

A soft clink

As they shared

A quiet moment

Then she whispered

“I’m ready…”

He took up the ink pot

Cradled carefully in both hands

Before pouring it slowly over her

Coating evenly

She was left shimmering

Black and glimmering

Then she screamed

Mouth distending

Contorting at a strange angle

And he screamed too

Eyes bleeding thick ink

This is not the memory I wish for

I…

I did not put this here…

No I do not wish to remember

I reject this

She-

She was everything

We would transcend together

But here I lie

A castle in mind

Holding only

Our memories

Ritual

Precision

That is what is required

Exact measurements

Perfect lines

Drawn in felt black pen

Exactly 1 inch wide

The angle of curve

Follows prescribed notes

I can feel it now

The approaching chaos

The tumult of the cosmos

Revolting against this

My most perfect rite

Still the door opens

The walls bent to hyperbolic oblivion

But what issues forth

Is all too much

Light

And sound

Sonorous booms

Gyrating pillars of flesh

Iridescent clouds of scarlet and violet

I feel a question encroach

“Your desire?”

I collapse to my knees

“Order…”

I mutter

There is a laugh

Like the tearing of time

A great sundering of sense

I then plucked my eyes

Straight from their sockets

But still the sound

Bore into my mind

Always to rebound

In my quiet moments

Then

The door closed

With a calamitous slam

And an exhalation

Of a now unseen behemothic beast

My plea

My desire

Had been rejected

The universe is chaos

It is disorder

And now I

Shall serve entropy

Needles

I struggle up

Roots hold me down

Screaming raving flailing

I am swarmed

Buzzing multitude descend

A hundred daggers perforate me

Injecting god knows what

My blood is fire

I smolder

Already spent

A priest reads my final rights

But they sound all wrong

“Psychosis unlike any I’ve seen”

What devil now intrudes?

What lies will it spin

I know who I am

Where I am

Always I am

I am undying

Chittering corpse

Look how pallid

How putrid I grow

The fire warms me now

Coddles me

Lulling me

I allow it

Glasses adjusted

“You have quite the delusion

Don’t you?”

I grin

Gums black

Teeth blacker

“Even eating coal

Anything to appear less alive”

He scribbles something

“Fascinating”

But I feel the fire slipping already

I descend back to the earth

I am cradled

I am still

I still watch

The light from my open grave

Eyeing that false priest

No possibility

His lies can reach me

I am nothing more

Than a rotting corpse