Jimmy Rossi Interview

We have another one. Four gun shot wounds to the chest. I fear for what seems to be bubbling up… a lot more corpses than usual.

I’m preparing him now. The candles are lit and I’m just about ready… I’ll record what is said here.

Christ

The pain

It’s unreal

Digging

Worming into me

Who am I?

Jimmy “The Hammer” Rossi

Show some fucking respect!

Yeah that’s right

I’m an enforcer

A made man

And I was on the hunt

For a little rat

Named Frankie Costello

Slim scum sucking skimmer

Took us for near on half a mil!

I had him cornered

Cowering and babbling on

“Not what you think!”

And

“He’ll do me in Jimmy!”

I didn’t listen

Cocked the hammer

My hammer

Then the retort

Four sharp snaps

Blasts

I was on my face

And all was black

Puttana snuck up behind me

Never heard him coming

That’s all I know!

Now let me rest!

I let Jimmy go then.

So someone intercepted Frankie and made sure he wasn’t taken out… but why? Someone who wanted the money he had skimmed from his family? That seems the most likely reason to me.

Ghastly Demise

Give up this

Desperate struggle

Niggling little parasite

“I am man!”

You boast

And brag

But look how fragile

How little

You truly are

With but a flick

Of the wrist

I can snap a spine

Or snap my fingers

And strip a soul

Though

In truth

This is not enough

Instead

I’ll give a glimpse

A fleeting sight

Of that which assaults

The obsidian doors of night

Which will one day consume all

With this merest fragment

Your mind will flee

And what life remains then

No I have killed

Quite effectively

You little worm

Why such lengths

For but a man

Well quite simply

I prefer to kill

Creatively

Poppet

Thick twine stitched

Bone needle presses

Forming smile

A final snip

And poppet is finished

Grinning and eager

I ready a jar

War water sloshing

In goes my poppet

A good shake

And soon enough

They’ll feel it

The twist of fate

This punishment is fit

And quickly coming

Church Grim

You know, they killed my momma

Burned her and buried her heart

Right beneath the church

No not for being a witch

They were making her a protector

She was made a Church Grim

I see her sometimes

Late at night

Pacing the perimeter

I call out but her eyes see through me

I am not that which concerns her…

So maybe I’ll make myself so…

Make a pact

Blood and pain

And dark whispered words…

Then she’ll see me

Then she’ll fight me

Then I’ll burn it all

Our Great Work

Books keep my secrets

Hushed scratch of pen

Kerosene flickering beside

These walls contain my blood

Ink and time

Sharp lines form intent

I add more resin to the charcoal

Smoke curling as blood ignites

I stop a moment

Tip tapping something

Typewriter slap clack bright

Words powerful enough to bend

Maybe break something too

The universe reverberates

Down into my bones

A silk hand rests upon my shoulder

Beak clacks

Antlers brush the air above

Our work is right

And good

It is necessary

Therefore

It is possible