Freed part 2 (The Unhallowed Gathering)

Second addition to the trilogy

Wine was a worshipped wonder to a mother

Unsteadily blundering by the comfort in its numbers

She sat at the bar lapsing rounds with herself

Nearly clearing a bottle from the bottom shelf

This was her method, how she’d let time pass

She sought salvation in the bottom of the glass

But instead found herself worn,

Tired and forlorn,

As hollow as the bottle she’d swallowed, alas.

“Alright Cheryl, I gotta make the last call,”

said the bartender, shrouding the place of its midnight pall

“Is it really that time?” she asked in a daze

Yeah. It is. How are you still functioning? I’m amazed.”

“I know… I can’t drive. Do you think you can take me home Mark?”

“Sure. I wouldn’t want you driving like this. Especially in the dark.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for the burden. I’ll get my car in the morning.”

“Don’t worry about it. You need to get home to your kids,” he said like a warning.

“Yeah… they’re probably still awake and driving Mary nuts.”

Little did she know her friend was hunting them, dumping out her guts.

“Alright well, I guess I ought to lock the place up then.

We wouldn’t want her getting livid with your children!”

“Yeah,” she cackled, “Her temper’s kind of short.”

She knew not the least what form her horrors could contort

Mark leant her a laugh, “Alright then. I’ll be right back.”

He went to lock the doors, clock out, and restock the racks

When he was done, he cut the lights and they were out

Believing all was normal, not a fear nor a doubt

Arthur and Amber were stopped by a cop

Alongside a road, either side-- endless crop

He put on his lights, called them forth after halting

Arthur limped to the door, sweat running to his wound and salting.

“What do you kids think you’re doing? It’s after midnight!”

He saw their helpless eyes, soaked with cries of fright.

“Jesus Christ! What have you kids gotten yourselves into?”

He couldn’t begin to understand the hell that they’d been through

“Come on. Get in!” They opened the door and sat

“What happened to you kids? Where the hell do you live at?

“Oh wait… you’re Carol’s kids. How’s she doing, is she sober?

I think I pulled her over ten times in October…”

After a pause, “Probably not. She’s always wasted. She doesn’t care.

I’m taking you home.” He turned the car around and headed there.

“You can’t take us home!” Arthur cried in retrospection

Knowing what awaited them: the vicious figures of infection

“Sure I can. You kids are too young to be out this late.

Someone’s gotta be held responsible. This isn’t up for debate.”

“No you don’t understand! We can’t go back! It’s not safe!” he screamed

“What do you mean? Are you kids getting beat?!” 

That’s certainly how it seemed.

“No! We’re not getting beat. My mom’s not even home! She went out!”

“Calm down son. Just tell me what happened. There’s no reason to shout.

If she’s not home, why you kids running around? You should be at home in your beds.”

“Mary was watching us… but… now she’s dead!

So is the old man! He… he tried to kill us… but I cut him up instead!”

The cop was shocked, his jaw dropped, eyes nearly popped out of his head. 

“Jesus Christ! Why didn‘t you tell me that kid?!” 

He hit the gas, blared the sirens, and off down the dark road they sped  

**

In the meantime, whilst the moon was clouded gray

And the gusting gales trajected a vicious, vaporous spray

The martyrs of malice made their way through the placid lanes

Treading in tandem, voracity driving vile pulse through veins.

A couple was about, no older than twenty

Strolling through an alley toward home

They came to a point where the shadows were plenty,

Where fate placed the ravagers to roam

The guy held his gal with a gait tightly pressed

Shielding the wind and offering heat

But nearest their end, she tarried them lest

she thought she could hear the sound of approaching feet.

And then they were stormed,

Surrounded, and swarmed

The fellow first sacrificed to the feast

His girlfriend helplessly hollered

And then too was slaughtered

Honored as though ritual to the beast.

Raising from death, they joined the unhallowed gathering

To hunt for what life was to waste,

Morbidly slavering, lips frothy and lathering,

Enraged and rapacious for taste.

A man getting out of his car was attacked,

Another was drunk and in sprawl,

A woman out jogging had viscera ransacked,

Annexing to this forage of Fall.

One unlocked his home and went to step in,

Just as he heard the first moan.

Before his reaction, teeth sunk in his skin

Ripped red; he died all alone.

His daughter sleeping, son watching television,

Wife with her mom on the phone;

He helped the marauders dismantle his kin,

Committing to eat them to bone.

Some in their cars, driving unaware

Stopped to make mind of the crowd

Threads torn to shreds, flesh stripped and bare

Devoured, murder howling loud.

The night swelled with gloom,

Death dispersing bloom,

So briskly had the small town turned a grisly mold.

The raven flit in flock,

Fleeting fit like hawks,

Scavengers collecting souls in the cold.

As they paraded, a truculent army of the night,

Stalking the shadows, foul and oblivious,

The home was set in the officer’s spotlight

Welcoming them, grim and insidious.

“That’s where you live, right little boy?”

He asked, deciding what next he should do.

The entrance wide open, doorframe destroyed,

Arthur replied, “If you go they will get you too.”

“This is Officer Paul Rogers, responding to a domestic emergency, discovered while on patrol.

I’m in need of backup. There’s a situation here, possible murder on 4th and Carol.”

There was no response.

“Base, do you copy?”

Several times more he tried.

Making the call,

“This ain’t gonna stop me. 

Wait here, I’m going inside.”

He parted from the car and darted through the yard

Discarding his regard for support.

Boldly he showed the code of heart he followed

With courage, the unfortunate sort.

Breeching the scene, what first he had seen

Was the gore coloring the floor.

It had spilled from Mary, enough to make him wary

That something gruesome was in store.

But where was she now? Had she walked off somehow?

Clumpy red puddles trailed to an open entrance.

It lead out to the side where Ms. Mary had died

The proctor, serving a sinister sentence.

There was a bloodletting, a slaying at the setting

And the corpse had to have been robbed.

Where would they have head toward and why was the front door broken outward?

Did the killer not know how to use a knob?

These were the questions he thought, infested by the stench of rot

There was surely something grave about the air.

An evil in the cold, the way the darkness did enfold

Left him feeble, feeling vulnerable and bare.

Abandoning the scene, complexion glowing green,

It seemed as though he’d become rather ill. 

Freezing in the breeze, breaths steaming as he wheezed,

He hurried back to the car to escape the chill.

Opening it quick, he felt even more sick,

Seeing that the children were not there.

He called out in the cold, his own echo followed,

Then only the whisper of the wind in the air.

“Those God damned kids! I can’t believe what they did!

Little killers! Devils running loose like dogs!

…Where can they be..?

YOU CAN’T RUN FROM ME!!”

He called out like a monologue in the fog.

Getting in his vehicle, eyes sharp like icicles 

Paul pressed the gas and blasted fast in his seat.

If only he had waited, for not a minute translated

Before their mother arrived on the street.

Slurring words to Mark, like “Y’should just park.

Come in fer’a while. Stay over, I’m lonely.”

He was known for his game, women drinking themselves to shame

So he could comfort them, that night only.

But when they got closer, suddenly she was sober,

Seeing the damage done to the place.

She ran in and then back, screaming “MY CHILDREN WERE ATTACKED!”

Mascara cascading down her fading face.

Tumbling to her knees, eyes spilling seas,

She screamed and she heaved in her woe.

Mark, dismayed, held Cheryl as she laid splayed,

Waiting for some sort of solution to show.

As though it was his answer, by chance, like cancer,

Something terrifying and terminal went their way.

A woman in pink pajamas, silk and spotted with traumas

Tottered toward them with a senseless sort of sway.

“Oh my God… she’s hurt!” Mark began to blurt,

Rising from Cheryl to inspect the one forthcoming.

Seeming suddenly scared, he screamed, “She’s bleeding everywhere!”

Her thirsted throat was hoarse and hungrily humming.

The widow, the mother, stood up to see another,

A man in his boxers stumbling in the streetlight.

Behind him was his brother, she knew them each as lovers,

Both on her drunken and unconscious sort of nights.

The first man’s name was Bob, the brother’s was Rob

They were veterans, both bearded, bald, and fat.

Bob’s eyes weren’t in their skull, they were just red, weeping holes

and Rob wore his brain like a hat.

The woman, within meters, gave off a putrid fetor

Mark and Cheryl stepped back to keep their distance.

Then five more filled the streets, dangling mangled meats,

Lurking without vital existence.

“D-Do we help them? Should we run? Do we call 911?

What are we sup-p-posed to do?” Mark stuttered in fear.

“All I care about right now is finding my children somehow!

Let’s get the hell out of here!”

The brothers blocked the car, the two garnished in scars

groaning, gullets gargling guts.

There was no choice but to scurry away from there in a hurry

before they too were clustered with cuts.

Weaving between the wretched, wasted, dead, infected

Fearing as they’d never feared before

Gunshots resounded, chaos unbounded

The town had turned a territory of war.

Author's Note

Get ready for part 3 >:D

Reviews

[Vanesa Markovic]

How do you have such focus!?
My god, the envy.
I have such trouble with extended pieces,
you seem to stick to storytelling so effortlessly.
All of the envy in the world Justin, this is grand!
-VM

[Justin Littlefield]

Thank you Vanesa!
Focus might just be my one natural gift with writing.
In the same respect, maybe I'm a little bit mad. haha
These sort of pieces take me a while though. I usually accomplish only a handful of sentences at a time. But I take them seriously, in hopes I might publish a collection of them at some point.
I appreciate the read, I know it's lengthy.

[s y e]

I can't wait for part three! That was a very interesting part. Loved it!
Nicely written, you got my attention, hurry up and write more-kidding :P Don't rush!