Chapter Three

Chapter Three

1

Some call me the hell dweller. Some name me the reaper. In truth I am none of these things and yet all tied up into one. I know the universe like a sister and may assume as much since I am a part of her. I can never know death or the sweet kiss it bestows in wake of disease, injury and natural case. My species are above it all. We were born from our own will governed by chaos. We will remain as such.

Pretty beads rolled from a gushing divide as flesh parted with gliding steels fury. Alone in this steaming body of water I admired the lovely crimson trail that my depression etched. Summer sun melted the daisies as my hands folded. My hair danced in the humid wind. Beads of sweat popped across my forehead. Looking to my left then to my right there was nothing but ash. Free will led to a sweeping wall of inferno as it consumed vast city blocks. People became blazing rag dolls. Buildings shattered like glass. Sky overhead burnt bleak as coffee embers streak through it.   Winter fell early and would last for an eternity, but should this be only in my heart I would resume my roam in darkness.

A new breed of fear composes me. Strapped to this chair I stare beyond space. Metal clamps sink their teeth into my eyelids. Pictures stream by like blurred rats. As I twitch from the electrical current their squeaks rip through my ears like razor blades and so crimson tears fall.  Locked in this room, death grinned in a corner. Its hollow sockets contorted as does my pained expression. Cooked flesh rises to my nostrils. I look down to see my skin bubble and burst. My spine was a metal rod driving into my skull and so life eluded me.

I don’t…want…this reality.  I imagined another.  Call it sleep or daydreams, but they came with ease.

Mistakes…everyone makes them. Anyone who claims otherwise was a bold face liar. Then again there may be no such thing as a mistake if you believe everything happened for a reason. It may not be clear at the time, but sooner or later it would present itself. I used to think otherwise once upon a time however that fairytale has long since passed.

Overhead a muddy sky hissed and maroon lightning spliced through only to then darken and surrender to black pellets that blotted the world below. I found it rather fitting for an already dead planet. The surviving colors suited it.  Nothingness born from melancholy screams in humanity’s face. It was a face ugly and fragmented. It was a face full of maggots and other foul critters.

I am the Devil; slanderer or accuser. I am believed in by many religions, myths and cultures to be a supernatural entity; a personification of evil and the enemy of humankind. The nature of my role varies greatly. I am an effective opposite force to the creator god, locked in an eon’s long struggle for human souls and an abstract aspect of the individual human condition.

No, I am not the Devil!

I assumed a dualistic status commonly associated with heretics, infidels, and other unbelievers. As such, I am seen as an allegory that represents a crisis of faith, individualism, free will, wisdom and enlightenment.  People often put the concept of me to use in social and political conflicts, claiming that their opponents are influenced by me or even willingly supporting me. In addition, I have also been used to explain why others hold beliefs that are considered to be false and ungodly.  All in all I am used to divide and conquer the old and young, the white and black, male and female. And now I am fully engineering such a cancer to further destroy them.

But that’s not me!

Worry not your pretty little head. No harm shall come to those heroes. Hurting them is not in my interest. I have no quarrel with them or this silly war. So conceive not notions of malevolent intent.  In the valley of the shadow of death I am not the evil to be feared. That role was played by people though the core may have consisted of others like me, ancients/original gods.

Staring out at the wasteland before me it became quite apparent that time was holding hands with denial. If mankind were to somehow rebuild their worthless selves they would fall back into the same miserable trap of lust, love and drama.  My withered fingers splayed, grasped the splintered wood as I leaned closer over the railing’s edge. Splashing against the rocks were torsos and limbs. I have overlooked such carnage before, but now it is hard to ignore its massive buildup.

It was all going to end one way or another.  Of course it was anything but concerning for those whose coward thoughts turned to cravings of the flesh.  I don't want to entertain sorrowful thought.  I can't find my way and the light was pinching any compassion I have for them.  Their loins do the thinking for them.  How sickening was that, but I digress.  My words meant nothing.  Eyes stray as will intelligence.  The cancer ball overhead confirmed this as it birthed another vein that throbbed and blackened beneath my gaze.

I refreshed my look. Divided hills kissed blemished heaven with coal drops fixed like ebony jewels. I slumped. Heroes kept adding to their numbers. Their sanctuary was a fortified fortress.  A mortal mental condition can’t be defined for a creature like me. Besides mortals are all about labels. Well…that was before Armageddon, but before times are complex at best.

Am I against humans? No, I am really on neither side. I am neutral on so many fronts, but I dwell in an ideal position where I sift through human corruption and denial and expose it as I see it.  My vision blurred. Sorrow clamped its teeth around my skull and I nearly collapsed. Staggering I weaved gray snow mounds that swelled and moved as though alive. Serrated wounds tore through them and steaming crimson pools shot forth.

Thin white animations danced in jerky movements, eyes wild and devoid of lids, while metal instruments held their lips back to expose silver teeth. Brown whiskers protruded from their chins and slithered free. Flames sprung up, burnt all around like enraged trees, and it was from this madness yet another fragment of me woke.

There were several roads nearby, but my surroundings changed abruptly. So intent was the great bell that in its second toll a ringing echo captivated the darkness rushing in. Encouraged by fresh alignments I lay down and let bitter cold settle over me.

For a few moments redefined parameters of sensation dogged profundity of unchanged. The bell blew away. And then the wall was solid again. Words played dead in my mouth.

"What city is this?" Guessing my gender with any certainty was impossible.

It was the city of broken dreams. Nothing grew here. It was a bitter wasteland falling further into decay with each and every day.

“I want to burn this reality with the flames of hell!”

Hear no evil, see no evil, and speak no evil.

“Evil,” I asked. “What is evil?”

I am mad? How then am I mad? It was conceived by degrees. Now this was the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. Presently mortal terror overcharged Death in the vulture eye. It was a dull blue with a veil over marrow in bones.

If still you think me mad….

 “Damn them” was all I had to say and at the top of my nonexistent lungs. I despised the barbaric ignorance showering their morals. And even still my rage went unheard. I would make them hear though. The shiny red button would make it so. There was no original mind. Suicide nets would tie together the mortal evils.

Damnation was arcane in many ways. An ear filled with sighs of pleasure and minds raped with fleshly images…it made a man a robot. There was no hope. Pain always found a way. And I am tired which signifies another was going to have control soon enough.  So pressing the button I giggled and allowed darkness to swallow me as the sky lit up with more speeding missiles.

Damn them in the light and damn them in the dark. I want them dead. I want them forgotten. They have no purpose. They have no season and I am tired…. I am fading…into that place of slumber and I gladly embrace it because this truth was so heartbreaking.

Whistling…explosions…fire and death…was the cycle sure to repeat again and I couldn’t be happier. Soon my voice would be heard and even then if my words fall on deaf ears I would still have the power of an Ancient to pour unto them.

2

Confusion…confused thoughts….

     The afternoon sun was warm. A scent of pine-wood from a pile of planks mingled itself with the scent of the elder-bushes. Slanting sunbeams shone through a heap of soft shavings. It was clear at a glance that expression both in form and face did not join in preliminary, an imaginary soul.  There was a laugh at this thrust of religion. All hands worked on in silence until the church clock begun to strike six. Then the cessation of tools had begun to be prepared for wrathful pride.

     Krosnos…I refused even for a moment to entertain his delusion. Dangling my legs over the edge I watched the water crash against the rocks below. Its salty aroma blended with various odors swept over me by a gentle breeze. I knew them and envisioned a burning landscape populated with obscenities far too nightmarish to forget.

     On this ledge overlooking fires and ashes I bowed my head. The orange dancing flames might have long ago expired, but I kept them from becoming smoke. Shifting through rubble and trash burnt creatures growled inhumane growls. Flesh once white was pitted brown and red. Flesh once black was maroon streaked and peach.

Two men fighting over something charred ceased as I jumped down in front of them. In their dark eyes a feral look took hold. They fell onto their knees with mouths stretched in marred smiles and folded their disfigured hands in prayer. I lay one smoky finger on their heads one by one and their limbs shook. Their torsos contorted.

They were to become the first of many.

“Echo,” Dr. Sannard’s distant voice filtered through and as I slowly fell back to the present I realized my new surroundings were pristine, smelled of various cleaning products and bathed in bright white.

“Sanitary confinement,” I mumbled to myself and chuckled.