Horrical by David Byron - HTML preview

Darkness In Death And Dissolution

David Byron

The light of a candle in the murky confines of the chamber reveals an old man, aged beyond the years, seated on a high stool alongside a raised desk. He is bent in the task of writing on one of the pages of a large brassbound book. He stares at the words with eyes that are filled with the wisdom of ages. Then he lifts his head slighly and turns to the unseen visitors. "Welcome to my humble abode, my dear friends. Quite busy as I am writing of a frightening tale, one of mystery and fear. The story is of the many, which tells of poor soul that defied the path of the righteous way and turned to the road of the damn. The story is true and calls for no tears, only pity,"

The Scribe of Life speaks in a mournful tone as he scratches with a feathered pen the tradegy of a pitiful creature. "The harsh words of the story begins and ends in the finality of an early life. Listen to the words and take heed.…"

"The early hours of the night had covered the dismal sight of a young man hiding in the fear of retribution. Darkness covered the pathetic sight of a young man as he hunkered in a far corner of a dank cellar of an abandoned building. The youth had taken refuge in the dirt and damp from the forces of the law for his lone act of attempted robbery and murder. The slimy walls of the basement afforded him very little shelter from the miseries of the cold night; its darts of frost sent shivering spasms through the very bones and flesh of his body.

"The young man, near the end years of his adolescence, crunched up his worrisome face and searched through his darkened confines. A thin stream of light from a street lamp, shining through a broken window, played upon the stage of his shelter. Shadowy forms drifted into the sight of his deep-set eyes; the orbs wide with fear, causing his body to creep deeper into the dark of the corner.

"The youth had bundled himself tightly from the cold with his covered needle-jabbed arms, but to no avail; the coldness triumphed. His rough leather jacket barely covered his thin frame, offering little protection; he had pulled his biker's visored cap over the mussed black of his hair for additional protection. But, despite his efforts for warmth together with the cursed demands for the need of narcotics caused him to suffer fits, which hallucinated his tortured mind.

"Why didn't he hand over th' money in th' till? Didn't mean t' harm him. Jest t'scare him a bit..." Murderous words damned the frightened youth. The miserable creature in his early years of his life had been initiated into the annals of crime through petty theft; his first attempt at bigger game ended in a botched fiasco of stabbing and blood.

"Needed th' bread fer a fix. Mighty needed... 'Specially fer me gal... couldn't watch her screamin' and carryin' on.. an..an shakin' all over," his words echoed shiveringly. "Damnit cold," he added as he embraced his tortured frame tightly.

"Th' old Italian's deli should ov been a' easy hit... Damn him, why didn't he hand over th' bills. Jest didn't care for the look of me blade... jest picked up a broom an' came after me," the words of crime flowed from cracked lips. "Didn't mean t' hurt him, honest," pleaded the youth to the unseen diety. His pleading phrases only bounded onto the cold walls, which echoed slightly to his whispered words.

"The thoughts of the past muderous act continued to rumble in his maddened mind into rambling phrases. His angry voice toned louder, "An thet fat bitch.. comin' in with a hard push to the door... knocked me down when ah waz backin' out... took a good look see at me an' at th' Dago lyin' in his blood. Blocked me way as she hollered blue murder an' walloped me wit' her bag... knocked me knife frum me hand.. gave her a shove.. pushed her back agin' the boxes... ran I did, real fast, through th' door."

"Time passed slowly as the cold of the damp turned into warmth which enveloped the drug ridden youth into the welcoming arms of untroubled sleep. Suddenly the cellar glowed in the brilliance of light forcing the youth to a waking and defensive stance. He called out in fear, and heard a sinister voice answering.

"It is I, Ahriman of the nether world, emmisary of the drummer who has changed your body from one being to another, the reunion of the body with the earth and the soul with the spirit." The messenger's eyes sent deep mesmeric rays of light upon the youth; from the dark of his cloth a skeletal limb was raised. "The sands of time slowly flows away to eternity," he called out eerily.

"The starled youth awoke with a start. The nightmare of hell and damnation frightened him and he belched out a curse, "Damn, damn, Father Petrillo an' his damnit sermons!" His shiverered involuntary as he looked down at the still form of his body lying bemt on the dirt encrusted floor of the basement. "Wha' th' hell, wha's goin' on?"

"As his spirit hovered, the sound of booted feeted on the few stairs leading to the cellar was heard; and he listened to the call of the officers of the law directing them within. A voice called out. "The tramp saw the kid running down here!" Sounds increased to commands, "Flash your light about and have a look-see in the back. I'll take a look at the coal bins."

"The youth's spectre called out a warning to its earthly body, which remained deaf to its warning words. Beams from flashlights cut through the dismal, damp murkiness of the cellar. Again the spirit called out a warning. Slim streams of light flashed on the walls as they searched. It watched as the policemen marked their way cautiously through basement. One of the officers of the law, with ready gun in one hand, flashed his lamp about until it shone upon the youth's stiffening body.

"The spirit watched as a flashlight played over its earthly body. The spectre screamed silently as the officer pulled the head back. The signs of death was signed with wide sightless eyes and a lolling tongue from an open mouth... And it heard the pitying words from the lips of the officer, "Poor devil, tis' be a sorrowful sight..." Then the phantom heard the policeman call out to his partner, "Found th' kid. From th' looks ov him, it seems that he bought it."

"The scene unfolded to a stage-like setting with an arc lamp shining on the deathly sight. An official was writing the report of the events as dictated by the two policemen.

Photoflashes played on the cadaver and on the nearby floor and walls; bits of physical evidence were collected and tagged. The spectre watched as its physical remains were prodded and examined by the pathologist; and it witnessed its once living form bagged and carried to the waiting coroner's ambu-lance. The lights dimmed as the curtain was lowered.

"The second part of the drama unfolded to the quietude of the mortuary where the spirit hovered over its covered naked earthly body laid on a cold stainless steel gurney. A slatternly woman named as the mother and another form equally slovenly as her brother, the youth's uncle, were being ushered by an attendant to the setting. It watched as the uncovered sheet revealed a thin youthful face closed peacefully to the finality of life. The spectre heard the wailful cry of the woman as she made her identity; and it watched the sourly expression on the man as a few slurred words were muttered...

"The eternal messenger entered again and seized wavering hand of the youth's spirit, "you have witnessed the finality of your earthly life and now is the time to depart." Together they entered the deep land, the Empire of Darkness. They coursed through the realm of eight regions of fire and eight regions of ice. They travelled through heat and cold; the rising and setting of the sun; and the wandering of the stars. Their quiet footfalls enventually led to the nether world from which one enters and never goes forth.

"There the messenger delivered the spectre of the youth to the realm of the great and fierce ruler of the underworld. His forbidding form was set on a wide bronze throne etched with the scaled symbolism of the judgement of hell. The expression of his face was ferocious. He is the master and judge of the nether regions; he consults the register of the living past, which records all the good and evil of the damned.

"When the sinner's spirit came before this formidable judge it retained its appearance for some time after leaving its robe of flesh. His earthly form was reflected in the sinner's eyes by a huge mirror set in burning coals akin to the throne of judgement.

"The cruel ruler stared with an evil eye at the soul's spirit as he ruffled through the record of the past years till he found the cursed page of the offender before him. As he looked, he noticed the dark-clothed messenger standing near, and with a snarl on his thick fleshy lips and a wave from one of his sharp-fingered hands, dismissed the courier.

"The magistrate returned to the task. He scanned the record and the daming forms of the written word were reflected in the glow of the mirror. The phantom saw itself with the guise it had in the former life, and so perceived the miseries of his past, which led to his iniquities. All the events and offenses of his past years was passed in the glaze and driven deep into the heart of offender's essence. Thus, his sins were weighed and the fierce magistrate judged.

"The spirit of the youth saw in the glare his early life in all its misery - an innocent babe born in a dirty, rat-infested slum; birthed to a slatternly slut of a mother. His father was equal to her, constantly filled with liquid spirits, which caused a slurred vile tongue. His untimely death in youth's early years spared the continuing abuse of the father's fist and strap on both his and mother's body. Charity sustained the family, yet cursed their existence with its stigma.

"Refuge was not found in the overcrowded classrooms and his teachers and the presence of the truant officer filled his schooldays with reprimands. Yet, he had good lessons in petty crime through the lifting of petty articles from the five and dime. His spinster homeroom teacher in the close confines of the cloakroom taught the first lessons in sex; much later he had found additional partners amoung the young nubiles of his classes.

"Absolution and redemption were offered to him in the enactment of his faith. The youth did not heed the gifted and healing words offered him by the revelation of the sacred text. He had dismissed the message of a goodly life, which would direct him to the righteous road. A Believer in the guise of a social worker delivered a second offer of redemption, but the words were refused once again. Instead he remained true to the iniquities of evil conduct, and prey to the vicious outrages committed on the edge of the law.

"The mirror continued the display of the youth's short life on earth that only saw the meaness of his existence. A work certificate at the age of fourteen relieved him of the miseries of his sparse learning; he left school with no trade in hand and the only jobs available were menial and with poor wages.

"He had found relief from the tedium of his hard life through the false comfort of drugs; at first it was the joint and graduating to the hype filled with the syrup of white powder. The youth had found a partner in the solace of the poisonous dreams; a young prostitute who sold the joys of her teen life only for the jab of a needle. Together they lived in a world of hallucinated dreams of the damned. The dregs of narcotics were earned by the youth at the vilest of jobs mixed with petty theft, and by the flesh offering of the sickly girl.

"Suddenly the mirror revealed a screaming girl in the early bloom of youth, as she demanded the terrible curse of addiction. Her arms, marked with the needle, were held out in pleading for the relief of the false comfort of narcotics. Darting flames blotted out the final scenario and the mirror cracked in lines of damnation.

"Guilty, guilty..." roared the formidable judge. Judgement was passed and sentenced despite the call of mercy by the Angels of the most High. The heavenly creatures pleaded their cause, but the magistrate dismissed it.

"The ground opened under the spirit and slimy-toothed snakes and snarling dogs appeared in all the fierceness. The creatures of hell tore away the earthly garb from soul's spirit, chewing on the remnants in delight. Evil savants of hell with horns on their foreheads, and armed with clubs, grabbed the naked guilty soul and dragged it to the vile sulphurous debt of the underworld.

"There the soul endured for days the torture of heated cold and the prick of a sharp needle. Additional misery was offered its tortured existence; the eyes of the spirit were forced to see the writhing body of a girl in the sharp pain from evil grip of narcosis. The spirit cried out for the cessation of the sight as it heard her tortured screams as she begged for the balm of relief. The soul suffered in torment the agony of the hallucinated hell upon its essence.

"When the sinner's soul had suffered all the punishment that was its due, it was dragged once again to the fierce ruler of hell who determined if the spirit was cleaned of sin. Then he decided to the shape of form, whether human or animal, that it should be reborn. The judge paused in thought and within a few moments he had come to a judgement. "I have weighed your sins and had listened to the cry of mercy, which led me to decide on a fitting life you will lead." A wicked grin was signed on his grim features as he pointed with a sharp finger at the soul...

"Sheep, yes sheep, you shall be reborn. As you bleat out your innocent ways you will remember the pain of the former life," he called out fiercely."

Copyright © 2007 David Byron