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

Consume

So hungry

Ravenous

Constant

Insatiable

Gods save me

It’s never enough

Daily I take

My pound of flesh

Pounds

And pounds

Piles

Heaping tables full

Nubile

Decrepit

All are welcome

At my table

All shall be served

With a side salad

And rosemary for garnish

Oh just thinking of

Imagining the feasts

I salivate

Mouth hung agape

And dripping

I tear into the flank

Of some young thing

The red stains all

But most of all

My soul

What need have I of that

I know where I am headed

When I shuffle of

This sack of flesh

And I will continue

Burning all the while

I will consume

And consume

And consume

Hair

Stuck to roof of mouth

Damnable string of hair

I dig in with digits

Finding it quickly

And pull it out with great vigor

Only

It doesn’t come out

Instead I feel it pull taught

Dragging down my throat

Caught somewhere deep

I gag hard

Clenching fist

I wrap it round my finger and pull again

Harder this time

Again something within me tugs

A loathsome smell eminates

Filling my nostrils

I fight back bile

And pull again

This string cannot be hair

How strong

Strong as Tungsten

Iron

Steel

Cutting a wedge in my finger

I pull again

I must dislodge it

My mind reels as I sense

That thing

Deep within

Stir

Pulling back against the string

I scream around the string

Eyes flooding with tears

I hold on with both hands

And pull

It gives

The thing shifts

Thick as a fist and forcing up my throat

Blocking air

I grip the counter

It is moving

Dragging up my throat

I look in the mirror

And see it pulsing in my neck

Darkness closes in

Head hot as I choke

I collapse

Numb

Next

I gasp

Leap up as I come to

I panic slide across the slickened tiles

gripping quick the porcelain sink

I look about and see nothing

Nothing wrong

Except

A small trail

Of something wet

Leading out the bathroom door

Cut

Breath held

I held still

Stillness consumed

consuming fear

Fear sharp

Sharpened wires entangled

a tangle crossing room

Room glimmered

Glimmering as they hung

Hung as gossamer web

Webbing of some unseen spider

Spider was his name

Naming it made all the worse

Worst of all my heavy eyes

Eyes lolling to and fro

Forgetting my fear

Falling back

I scream

As the web ensares

Enmeshing with flesh

I bleed quickly

But not quick enough

Rope

Above the door

Chiseled roughly

A few words

“To appease Them what live below”

Coils wound round gears of wood

Pulling and groaning in protest

What was its purpose precisely?

I followed the hemp cordage

But always it moved farther

Deeper within the mill

Below the basement

Before reappearing

Now slick with something oily

And fatty in smell and feel

This mystifying contraption

This horrible machine

Ground away at something unseen

And just behind this noise

I was just cognizant of

A distant and harried cry

From those untouched depths

The sobs of a woman

The squeals of a pig

Melded and twisted

All I could think

Was the farmer’s words

“My wife’s the one

Who works the mill

I’ve not seen her

For a few nights now”

What had she wrought?

What had she aimed to mollify?

What in God’s name lay below us now?

Thumbnail Source: https://www.deviantart.com/4ddesigner/art/Old-mill-252991403