One Hour

August 21, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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Today was perfectly normal to begin with, nothing out of the ordinary at all. The same old droning of daytime television and cars, the occasional bird just loud enough in the backyard to make itself heard over the top of the sounds that surround most any town based home. However, as the day progressed a steady silence has fallen. But it’s not a normal silence. Not by any stretch of the imagination. If it weren’t for the now overwhelmingly loud taps of my keyboard I’d think I was literally deaf.

It started around noon today, when the cars began to sound muffled as they went past. At first I passed it off as just being quieter engines- I’m certainly not a genius when it comes to cars so I couldn’t tell you a thing about them except colour. Shrugging this off I’d carried on watching the television until my usual programmes were done, at which point I turned it off as usual.

Nothing.

All sound. Gone. It was as if when I hit the power button on my remote I’d hit mute on the entire world. No wind, no birds, no people, no cars, nothing. I can’t even hear the hum of my fridge any more, or even that ringing that everyone gets when locked in the normal silence that comes with a night. I know though, that it wasn’t the television at all, though it may as well have been. You see, through my programmes things had gradually stopped. First the cars, then the wind, followed by the birds chirping less and less until all birdsong came to a halt, then the people in the distance, and my electronics, until finally the TV screen was black too refusing to allow itself to be turned back on.

I’ve never heard a silence like this before. I think what made it worse was that it wasn’t just a lack of sound, but a lack of movement, as if the entire world had been put on pause. Finding the silence too much you see, I’d wanted to get towards the sound again, and I was in need of a few groceries at any rate so I’d grabbed my wallet and my coat and left. By the time I’d reached the end of my street though, something stopped me. As if there was an invisible barrier of unbreakable cotton walling. I just couldn’t go any further. I wanted to, but I couldn’t get my feet to move any further, and so I stopped, listening for anything, anything at all, just a single sign that I wasn’t alone in this world.

It was to no avail though. Even the other houses of my street were silent. Out of curiosity and desperation by now I’d begun to pause at each gate as I made my way back towards my house in defeat, looking through windows to see movement, or to see people, but there was nothing, as if all houses had been abandoned.

In that single moment though, I thought that both my prayers and my nightmares had come true when I turned only to be greeted with the chest of a stranger.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming” I’d said in a quick, panicked voice, stepping back to gain distance between us. It was then that it occurred to me that he was a little too tall, even by stretched standards. I myself stand at 6 and a half feet tall, so for my head to only reach midway up his chest, you can imagine the height I speak of.

He didn’t talk though. Not even an audible breath. He just stood there, staring down at me. At first glance aside from his height there was nothing odd about this man. Nothing odd at all, but when you’re locked in silence, staring at a stranger, you tend to notice just the smallest of things, like the way his eyes didn’t seem to hold that spark of life that a living being’s did, or how his hair almost seemed to be made of tiny threads of silk rather than actually being hair, or how his suit was covered in little patches of dirt and dried stains of a darker shade than the near-black of the cotton.
I could swear to you here and now that I’d been looking at this man for hours in our silence and believe it myself, but that wouldn’t be possible. You see, at that moment as I’d noticed the texture of his skin seemed more like a soft leather than real skin he’d stepped aside, not even casting another glance to me, walking off down the street, boot-clad feet leaving not even the faintest of sounds in their wake. I stared after him until he’d left the corner of my street.

I could have screamed. Oh how I wanted to scream. Something about that man had left me with a tangled lump in my throat, left me trembling, and oh so alone. It wasn’t until he’d gone that I realized just how terrified I’d been. I’ve never been so scared in my life, and I pray that I never will be again.

I’m typing this now to get out a message. I’m hoping that somehow you can believe me.

If you ever find yourself in the same silence as I described to you, don’t move. Sit there. Stay where you are. Don’t even blink if you can help it. I don’t know what that man did to me, but I can feel it now, something pulling at my mind, this.. this horrible.. tug. As if my mind is about to be swallowed whole by the sounds as they’re coming back now. I hear my clock ticking again. Just an hour. The same as when I first glanced it. Just an hour.
I hear them. The breeze against the sycamore in my backyard, the birds in the distance, whispers of engines from miles away. One by one they’re coming back. They’re so loud… So loud..

I want the silence.

Credit To – Raven F

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Blue Light Special

August 16, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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Like many couples, we too enjoyed partaking in the night frolics and witching hour adventures (as she and I called them). Simple little outings done together in the dead of night. This added element of danger both captivates and terrifies. All your senses are heightened; you can feel the intensified romance burning between your two souls. She and I always alternated turns when choosing where these escapades occurred. Tonight was her night. After a short deliberation, she selected a nearby park. Quite spooky, isn’t it? Never tried it? Walking in these supposedly fun, friendly places after dark — equipped with only a hot, moist hand to hold and your imagination to run free.

A warm summer air swept through the trees as we entered the park from one of its many trails. You could hear the rustling leaves all around us, these being followed by a tightening of my girlfriend’s grip on my fingers – and this is how I knew it had begun.

I pulled her in close, planting a kiss on her cheek as we set foot to pavement. “A bit scared already, are we?” I laughed.

“No! Shut up!” she giggled, and leaned away from my side for the briefest of moments. Though I quickly felt her yank me close again as the wind howled its chilling song

“Sure, sure, lovedust,” I said and we moseyed on.

This particular park, while beautiful and pleasant during the day, seemed almost maze-like after sunset. Dozens of trails zigzagged, weaved, and circled through the walking paths. The majority of these were lined with tall hedges, bushes, or other shrubbery. Trees from an adjacent forest invariably found themselves sneaking across the lawns. Their sparse limbs hanging low in the air like boney fingers reaching out into the night for unsuspecting victims. Now, however ornate and decorated these passageways may seem, you forever held the distinct feeling you might find yourself getting lost at any turn. A few scattered lights illuminated the walkways each time a new route branched off in another direction. Traveling farther in, the middle of the park housed a large man-made pond. Various bridges of varying sizes joined and connected over the water at several locations throughout its expanse. None of these contained lights of any kind along their troubling length (aside from one on the entrance of each side). You could just hear the sound of flowing water from a nearby river, while the pond itself remained still and quiet.

I guided her along numerous paths, taking a turn there and a twist here. The moonless sky leaving the woods eerily blackened (especially the unlit areas surrounding us, no matter which way you looked you could not see more than ten feet beyond the path). With each shaking of a bush or cracking of a twig, my girlfriend held me just a little firmer. Every unknown noise causing a shudder of fear to pass through her. I thought it cute and found myself looking forward to these small pressure changes in her body. Now was my time to strike. I asked the question only a fool would pose.

“Dare me to walk off into the dark?”

“–What?” she replied with some hesitation.

“You can come too, if you’re too scared to wait here,” I mocked.

“No, that’s stupid,” came the retort.

“Sure, whatever you say yella-belly! I think I’ll go off into them right now. What do you think about th–”

And as I nearly broke free from her fingertips, she clasped them once more in a rather stern manner. “What’s that!” she gasped. I believed this to be another of her known ploys. Some times when the girl becomes a bit scared she is prone to fabricating sounds and noises to get out of participating in any would-be spooky activities.

“Sure…” I said incredulously. But her grip grew tighter, so I looked back.

“No, I’m serious,” she continued, as I heard her feet hopping up and down ever so slightly. “Off that way.”

I traced the direction her finger pointed in with my eyes. And then I saw it… Sure enough, there it was. A dim blue light some ways off in the distance. It was only by sheer luck we were even able to see it from so far off. The zigzagging pathways usually prevent you from looking very far ahead or behind, but for some reason this spot allowed us to do so.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what it is,” I said, speaking truthfully. I didn’t think much of it and suggested we take another trail to our right. No sense in going looking for trouble I thought. She sighed heavily — glad to still have me protecting her, or something like that. We traipsed along the turns like smitten lovebirds, albeit somewhat scared lovebirds at that. Every so often I would kiss her on the lips or give her a playful smack on the bottom. Anything to ease the anxiety night brings with it. Yet, through the stiffness of her movements I knew she still harbored worry in her heart. And perhaps rightfully so. My childish attempts to lighten the situation had no effect.

“What’s that?” she asked rather suddenly, pulling at my hand with enough force to stop us cold.

“Where?” I asked, whirling my head about in every direction. It’s just like a woman to raise a commotion over something and not tell you where to look.

“Over there!” she replied with a nervous squeezing of my palm.

Being the man in this relationship, I felt it necessary to remain courageous (or at least give the impression of such behavior). She pointed to my right at a connecting path. I glanced over. An unnerving sickness crept its way into my lower abdominal. For out there in the dark, again, I saw the same dull blue light – only this time a little closer than before. Standing a short distance ahead, staring us down like a wild animal poised to attack. Be cool, I thought. Be cool. Don’t assume the worst.

“Probably a new lamppost the city has installed. You know how they love park maintenance,” I told her with a goofy grin. She didn’t seem relieved in the slightest. Her eyes remained fixated on the light as she tugged me in any direction that would distance us from the specter.

“I don’t remember seeing any of those… I think it’s moving too…” her voice trailed off.

And being completely honest here, between you and me, the apprehension in her voice brought forth the first sensations of fear within me. For no matter what front of bravery I had projected, it quickly faded into the darkness with her single utterance.

“Come on,” I said, “Let’s go this way. Don’t worry.”

We walked slowly, steadily along a new trail. One we hoped would lead us away from whatever controlled the malicious blue light. As we stepped, as the seconds ticked by, we soon felt a presence lingering behind our footfalls. A hazy illumination casting its menacing glow on the tree trunks just beside us. It could be only thing… The familiar, unsettling blue light. It rounded the corner we had just taken. There it stayed, about shoulder level, gazing right at us. Unmoving and unwavering.

“Do something,” my girlfriend whined, “I’m getting really fucking freaked out right now.”

She was suffocating me. I couldn’t think with such pressure. Using my arm, I tried prying her off my body, allowing myself some breathing room. The adrenaline coursed through my limbs. There I stood, fast succumbing to tunnel vision, focusing entirely on the threat before me.

“Stay calm,” I whispered to her. “It will all be okay. It’s probably just a hobo with a new flashlight.”

I took a step toward the light. “Hello?” I heard my voice call out.

No reply. Just as well. I don’t need some drunk accosting me at midnight in the middle of a public park anyway. “Come on,” I said once more to my girlfriend before shoving her along rather hastily. She agreed all too willingly. Periodically I found myself looking to the rear, searching for signs of the blue light. Good… thankfully, nowhere in sight. Yet, at times I swore the dim blue haze was barely visible on the ground. The smallest semblance of its pursuing beam.

“What do you think that was?” she finally asked me, evidently feeling safe enough to speak.

“I really have no ide—“ and there it was… In front, up ahead. The dull blue light. I heard an awful, terror-stricken shriek burst from her agape mouth — but due to the adrenaline fueled tunnel vision reaction of my own, I barely registered the noise. Horrified. That is how I would describe myself in this moment. Truly horrified. Not the funny, ha-ha kind of horrified either. A truly petrifying horror. Frozen stiff I was, watching the light move toward us in a slow, languorous gait. Unrushed and unconcerned – all the more frightening. Watching and waiting. Teasing and taunting. I could bear the sight no longer. Something had to be done. We simply cannot wait. Take action!

I made an effort to swallow whatever saliva was in my mouth (something to calm my nerves), but there was none to be had. Christ… I shouted the first thing that came to mind (perhaps I’d spent too many years performing menial customer service to ever sound intimidating), “Can I help you with something?”

No response.

Fear overtook the pair of us. She held my hand tighter than ever. Tighter than I wanted to be held. Her fingers cut into my skin like steel wires wrapping around an old wooden fencepost.

“Do you need something?” I asked again, putting forth whatever tough, confident voice I could muster. I probably sounded like a man pleading for his life. And maybe I was. Once again, there came no response. I desperately wished to hear something, anything. Break the silence! Give me an answer! The dull, yet unyielding blue light shined directly on us. It was held in such a fashion so that neither she nor I could see the creature raising it in our direction. Then I heard it… more disturbing than I could have ever imagined.

No, it was not a voice of any kind. No audible form of communication. But something much worse, and terrifying. The sound of deep, relaxed breathing through moderately clogged nostrils (or a mouth breather). I could hear the tiniest bit of wheezing emitting from somewhere behind the light. My girlfriend placed her head against the side of my chest, whispering in my ear “Oh my god… what can we—“ she never finished, but I knew the question. You know, I have never professed to be a brave individual. No acts of valor line my record. You won’t find me on a list of heroes anywhere.

I put my lips against her ear, and without removing my stare from the light, not even for a moment, I spoke the only words which I could, “…run!”

And with that we were off. Our feet retreating, sprinting, hobbling — taking us any which way they could to the first perceived area of spotted safety. We instinctively dashed toward a light up ahead at the end of our current road. Brushing and bumping against a line of hedges as we scrambled our way along. Surely we would be much safer under this protective beacon of the night. She must have looked back over her shoulder because I heard her say, “Shit it’s still coming!” I couldn’t bring myself to chance a peek. I think if I had seen the blue radiance in that moment I would have fallen flat on my face, frozen stiff with fright. We ran beneath the first light… and didn’t bother slowing down. There would be no safety in the park. We knew that much. Lamppost or no lamppost, we had to get out. In this precise moment I heard the bizarre sound come again, only this time much louder and harsher. That wheezing clogged nostril trailing behind us in devilish pursuit. Now I really couldn’t look back!

We clambered onto the nearest bridge. A random chance act. Either some blessing of the night or a damning deed of the devil, I didn’t know which. Trapped on this narrow walkway, being hunted by some demon of the dark. The stomping of our feet instantly being muffled by the wooden surface. And then I saw it. No less than twenty feet from us. A fork in the road beneath an old, dim lamppost. It would have to be the shoddiest one in the park, wouldn’t it? In our moment of need, the weakest of protectors is all it provided. I gripped my girlfriend’s hand as solidly as I could, preparing to make the next turn to our right and out of this cursed nightmare. Wheezing and wheezing! That ghoulish wheezing! In my peripheral vision I spotted glimpses of the blue light reflecting on the water, gaining rapidly. Here I noticed, strangely, it didn’t bob back and forth, other than a minor motion or two. No, instead, it seemed to be fixed onto something or held by an inhumanly steady hand (especially considering our hurried rate of speed).

The turn was upon us! I didn’t miss a step. I darted to the right… and a moment later I experienced the most hopeless feeling I have ever felt in my entire life. For during that split second decision to turn right, my girlfriend had decided to turn left. Her hand broke free of my own. I heard the moan of terror utter from the back of her throat as the realization struck her. Something I can never forget. A repulsive gurgling for help. The best she could muster.

I’d like to tell you that I stopped, that I turned back and ran after her; that I chased after my girl until I felt her hand safe in my own once again. But I didn’t… I kept on running, looking back only once in sheer, selfish panic – to spot the sinister blue light veer off down the very same path which she had taken — as the sound of her shoes slapping against the pavement faded into the night, leaving me to hear only the pounding of my heart and gasping breaths for air.

Credit To – Blue Light Special

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Sister

August 15, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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My sister always screams in the middle of the night. Horrible, blood-curdling screams. And I cannot get her to stop.

I lie in my bed, away from the earth, dreaming in mist, and her screams penetrate them. She cries for me, she cries for someone.

I cannot help her, nothing I do will make her stop.

I bring her some fresh lavender, one day. I hope the scent can calm her.

My eyes shut and I drift away.

But she screams.

What can I do, Sister? Why do you scream? What scares you? You will not tell me, I can’t help.

One night, when the screams are too much, I get up. I will stop her screams.

I make my way to her bed, and kneel down right on top of her.

Stop screaming. STOP SCREAMING.

I look down at her, but I cannot see her. It is dark, and there’s distance between us.

STOP SCREAMING.

She stops, but only because she knows someone is there.

She is quiet, she doesn’t want them to know she’s there.

My mother, telling me to go back to my bed. I need to stop coming to see my sister at night.

But don’t you hear the screams, Mother?

But she doesn’t. It is only me.

My sister pretends to be asleep.

I get up.

I am dirty from the ground where I knelt over my sister’s grave.

She rests in her coffin. Dead but she still screams.

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Sunlight

August 14, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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I used to live in a small cottage in the country. It was quite secluded and there were only two buses a day that went past my home. If I missed the bus, I’d have to walk down a long country road to get back. In summer, it was quite nice walking past the fields in the shade of the trees. In summer, there was still sunlight. In winter, there was no sunlight, and it was in winter when I missed the bus home.

I’d been working late at the office and I had to get the later train home instead of my usual one. As I sat on the train home, I watched as the sun slowly sank beneath the rolling hills of the countryside. It was getting dark outside.

I got off at my stop and starting walking towards the bus stop. It was then I saw its familiar shape cresting the hill on the horizon. I knew I couldn’t miss the bus. If I did, I’d have to walk home in the dark. I jogged to the stop and managed to reach it before the bus did. I held out my hand to stop the bus, but the bus didn’t stop; the driver just kept on going. Now obviously I was annoyed, but I knew that swearing and cursing wouldn’t help my current situation. Instead, I started walking home.

It was at least three miles to my house, which is a lot for one person to walk alone on a dark, cold winters night, but still I persevered. The dead leaves beneath my feet made a satisfying crunch as I walked over them; but it wasn’t so satisfying when I heard the same noise coming from behind me.

I knew I was alone, I’d checked several times during the walk to sooth my paranoia but now I couldn’t even consider turning around just in case. Just in case I would find something as horrifying as the things that often appeared in my nightmares.

I ignored the crunching and carried on, but I started to speed up at this point hoping that I could out run the noises.

But I couldn’t.

As I moved faster, the noises behind me moved faster too and they started to sound closer and closer.
I started to run when I heard the breathing.

The deep, croaky, terrifying breathing of the thing following me. I ran fast, but the thing did too. Adreneline gave me a boost but fear powered me through out. I wasn’t going to let that thing get me; I was determined.

I kept running while the breaths behind me became shallower and shallower.
I kept running while the crunching leaves sounded quieter and quieter.
I kept running because I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t stop until I reached my house. I quickly unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind me before stumbling through the onyx black darkness and tumbling into the cupboard under the stairs.

The cupboard was my safe place; I always felt safer in confined spaces. If I ever had a panic attack or worked myself up into a fear frenzy I’d just hide in there as I did that night. I curled up in the blankets I’d left under there and fell asleep, but as I drifted off, I thought I heard scratching at the cupboard door.

Some hours later, I was awoken by sunlight pouring thought the cracks in the door. I slowly opened the door and peered out, half expecting a monster to lunge for me. Instead I was greeted by my cat, Snowball. I noticed her food bowls were empty. “So that’s why you were scratching on the door last night,” I cooed “You were hungry weren’t you poppet.”
I emptied a sachet of cat food into a bowl for her and brewed myself a cup of coffee. Suddenly, I heard a floorboard creak upstairs. I grabbed a knife from the draw and quietly walked up the stairs, keeping on guard at all times. When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw the landing was empty. Cautiously, I opened the door to my bedroom and checked in there. It was empty too. So was the bathroom and so was my study.

Everywhere was empty.

I told myself to stop being so paranoid; it was an old cottage and the beams were probably weak and creaky. I retrieved my coffee from downstairs and started doing some work in the study, for today I could work from home which meant I didn’t have to run down any country roads late at night being chased by a boogey man! I turned my laptop on and started working. I worked for several hours without a break. Sometimes I felt Snowball come and brush up against my leg so I’d stroke her and assure her I’d come down and play with her later.

Whilst I was working, I heard a noise outside. It was an owl hooting. I looked out of the window opposite my desk, when I had a realisation. It was a realisation so chilling it made my blood run cold.
There was an owl.
It was still dark outside.
My house was dark when I got home, but now the lights were on.
I wasn’t woken up by sunlight. Someone or something turned the lights on.

The house wasn’t empty.

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The Gallery

August 5, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.

I never had taste for art, but sometimes you get an invite to the finest gallery you could ever be invited to: free food, rich women, cheap security and expensive art. The whole situation was fantastic for a skilled ne’er-do-well such as myself. I was to walk in, collect what art I could, get an artsy girl, and stroll right out. I would cash in the art in a shady pawn shop in Utah and live the rest of my life in paradise. But things aren’t that simple and they never were. I should have known.

My first major realization after walking into the Gallery was it’s emptiness. Nobody was in there and there were no traces of people putting the art up. The walls were painted a bright red that took a second for my eyes to adjust too. There were seven sculptures total that lead to a great white canvas at the end of the room. The sculptures weren’t covered or shielded, there was no glass or security. I should have walked out when I saw that stealing the art would be an issue, but instead I just observed the art, thinking that I could cart one or two of the smaller sculptures out of the building and into my truck. Now, I know, that wasn’t going to happen.

The first sculpture was of a woman. She would have been beautiful, but she had been ruined. She had scars from surgery and violent acts; she had a pale purple makeup dusted along her body and her mascara was running down her cheeks. She was practically nude and had a frightening sexuality about her. She reminded me of a girl that I knew in Chicago. She was a prostitute and died a few months ago when she was at her most desperate. A man picked her up and I never saw her again. Poor girl, she might have been the best deal in all of Chicago.

The second sculpture was a very fat man. He was covered in even more surgical scars. They were in places where you would expect a for a weight removal operation. Whatever operation the artist attempted to portray had failed the fat guy. He was nearly bursting at the seams and the staples of his scars. A soapy fat substance dripped onto the floor. I think he looked a little like me. I mean, I’d been called fat before, and maybe I was, but I never reached this level. I stole food when didn’t need it from those who did for sport, and I ate whatever I had. Maybe the fat guy is more like me than I could imagine.

The third was even stranger. It was an old man, who was also quite bloated, but this time from a different substance. He wore a crown and jewels, but most of his riches were inside of his body. He was cut up and gold and jewelry was stuffed into his slots, like a piggy bank. His skin had a rotted gold hue, and the gold sometimes bled out from his wounds. This man looked more like me. I was happiest with this sculpture though. It seemed like I could have reached inside of his stomach and took a hand full of riches with me. I might be able to run from everything if I stole his crown or coins.

The next sculpture was of a very thin man. He was legless and his waist concluded with a odd withering tail forming around his spinal column. He was sat upright against a chair and looked blankly at me. I couldn’t help compare myself to this deathly inactive being, as I never helped anybody other than myself. I stood by and watched good people die and I never have done anything that hadn’t benefited me. I’m sure the poor sucker represented here never did anything for anybody either.

The next one, was very difficult to compare to any human figure. It had large eyes spread across its body staring longingly at the other sculptures. It seemed like it had only characteristics depicting of the other works of art. As if it’s only goal was to become what it saw. I was very much like this sculpture. I have always looked at richer men in hatred, maybe thats what leads me to steal from them. I show them that I am better and richer, and I leave them poor and damaged. They always deserve it.

The next sculpture was maybe the most disgusting. It looked as if it could have resembled myself or someone I knew, if not for the horrible disfigurements on it. It was painted a bright red and seeped blood from its many injuries. These injuries meant that it would be impossible to steal this sculpture, because along the sculptures large muscular body were razors, blades, and nails stuck outward towards me. If I grabbed it anywhere, I would be cut or stabbed by its violent being. I saw myself in this one too, though. I have always been violent and volatile to my fellow man. I get the largest share in a partnership or someone suffers. People who work with me, might happen to end up dead. I realized who it looked like. It looked like Jimmy from Boston; I slit his throat with a razor and nailed him onto wall where his blood would drip. He got what was coming to him though; he attempted to take a fifty percent share, then the idiot tried to threaten me.

The last one was odd in comparison to the others. It was a very attractive man cast in bronze. There was less horror involved, save for one thing. It looked exactly like me. He was placed on a pedestal above every other sculpture and shined a bronze so bright and separate from the red on the walls of the gallery. I think I like this one the most, I just might steal it and keep it for myself. A man as skilled as myself deserves only the best and this is the best I’ve seen, and it looks alot like me.

One piece of art still remained. A large white canvas draped on the floor and wall of the back of the gallery. I decided that it was worthless while it was blank and turned around to leave. I was stopped though. Every sculpture disappeared from their placement. I was frightened and shocked. I ran for the door in haste but I was knocked down. I woke up at the canvas. I looked away from it, to see the sculptures coming towards me.

I was the last piece of art. A great mural painted in sinner’s blood. Now I lay here, torn piece by piece. A monument to all great sins.

No god can hear me repent, no matter how loud I scream.

Credit To – KSS

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The Harp

August 3, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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There is an angel perched on my bedside; it whispers a name all too faint.

The world has been cruel to me. More cruel than I could ever imagine. Now, I doubt what it really means to imagine. I’ve been seeing the angel for a few weeks. The first time I saw it, I was more frightened than I’d ever been in my life.

I woke up to its whisper. It was a rough and scathing noise that penetrated my body through my ears and out through my soul. I dared not to open my eyes, as I had the certain feeling that I was being watched. Soon enough though, my eyes were wide open and I saw it.

I didn’t believe my sight, I couldn’t have. It was only visible as the moonlight shone through my windows and revealed the thing. It sat perched, naked on my bedside with a certain comfort. It was a thin and pale creature. Its arms were folded over its chest and its taloned feet were planted to my bed in a manner very similar to a bird sitting in its cage. It’s head was turned toward me, so in the moonlight I could see its face. Its face was hideous. It’s features seemed as if they could have been drilled into its pale canvas, save for its eyes and mouth. Its eyes were large and without pupils, while his mouth was in the formation a long and expressionless frown that extended from the sides of its face. I saw glimpses of the creature’s jagged teeth when it spoke. Its mouth opened ever so slightly when it spoke and its name gasped from between its teeth as if it were its last breath. It spoke a name that bore itself into my mind even though it couldn’t be heard.

I feared it for weeks. I would wait for its appearance each night, and it would always appear when it was the least convenient for myself. One night I stopped eagerly awaiting the creature’s return and it showed me something in my sleep. It gave me the whole world for an instance. I saw a boy born, a soldier die, a young pup picking the bones of it’s own mother, a woman on a noose, and ungodly things that I could never dare recall, but I remember. I will never forget. But it was only in the end of our vision that it showed me truth.

I walked naked along the desert sands. I walked nearer and nearer to it, and its name became more and more clear as it whispered. That’s when I saw its halo and I saw my own. The angel sat a on a cactus overlooking the desert. It unfolded it arms to reveal a pair of great wings; wings of bone with a thin flap of pale flesh connecting the angel’s arm to the sides of its torso. It raised one wing and slowly crept its other claw to its wing. The angel’s claws screeched on the bones of its wing to create a horrid sound. The sound blared through the desert and the painful noise brought me to my knees. As it played it’s wing, a group of pale buzzards gathered above the angel. They circled into a halo and hovered mere meters above its head. The screeching sound brought me to fall into the burning sand. I looked into the sky and as the group of buzzards began to circle around my body. The noise woke me up soon after, and the angel had left.

Every night it came to me; every night I heard the same name. I don’t fear it, not anymore. I don’t think I can fear anymore, it’s just too late. I knew that the illness that put me in my bed would soon kill me. My body had degraded to a point of no return. I was to die in that bed. In my helplessness, I could no longer move my arms or legs. The medication they had put me on made sure that I felt no Earthly pain, but now my body’s pain didn’t matter. My life was over and I could do nothing; that is all the pain I would ever need.

In this state, I could do nothing but wait for the angel, wondering if it may be its last visit. It appeared in the moonlight again, as it always had. It whispered while it raised its wing. It used its claw to play on its wing. The music that played through its body was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Now, I lie here in my bed, having heard the angel’s harp, and I feel my last breath slipping from my soul. I look at the angel for the last time. I see its beauty in its sharp teeth and empty eyes, I hear the beauty of its screeching melody, I hear the beauty of its name whispered in my final moment.

“Malach HaMavet”

Credit To – KSS

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