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

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