Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Chapter 1: The Faerie Demon’s Hunger

I sat down and started writing a story. This is how it goes so far. I wonder if it sounds interesting? When you have been through multiple wiccan seances and mystical meditations, it's difficult to verbalize your own experiences, but I've found that fictionalizing certain parts of them can help. Without further ado...

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Blinking, blinking, back again to conscious, I stared at the huge cut on my palm. Dried blood, sore as hell. Rubber marks lined my forearms. I'd suffered severe burns on my chest. Along with the pain, somewhere beneath the surface, a well of pride simmered, waiting for an explosive debut.

I craned my aching neck to observe my prone, slightly bent body. Limp and dirty, I lay in a parking lot next to a shattered bottle of Olde English and a severed, violet-tinted foot. Its blood pooled inches from my head, sticky and coagulated, yet still exerting a healthy shimmer. One of the clawed toes, had a ring on it, jewel encrusted, tacky. I pulled it off and slipped it into my cloak, then swallowed dryness and began to pick myself up.

I'd traveled countless thousands of miles, through shiny corridors lined with innocent souls, piling upon one another, walking to the next destination, unaware of what lurked among them. I'd seen both sides, the hearty, naïve peaceniks with their round faces and ample baby fat, as well as the disciplined killers who always thirsted, who moved like secrets between adulterers, spiderlike and sinuous.

Outnumbered by the hundreds, the predatory class dealt in shadow and stealth, using patience and cunning to run up stores of fresh meat. Their feeding had been a force of nature for eons, routine and powerful, much like rain or wind on this planet, in this time. Hiding even from each other at times, they preyed and preyed beyond conventional bounds of tolerance, thieves casing a mark, until finally, they would unveil themselves, consuming masses of wholesome upright innocents.

Integral to their Fortean ways was the ability to transfer between and among multiple planes, slipping into dimensions like light through a door crease. The scenery changed, but the tubes of time flowed always in one direction and their hunger was always directed at the same target, the spirit of ignorance. A fresh, vibrant spirit, a childlike temptation and life giver to a demon bent on human entropy.

Walking away from the spot where I'd awakened, I noticed that the area was (not surprisingly) silent and vacant, streaks of ash tattooing empty concrete. Another fight resulting in collateral damage. But I'd won yet again, creeping a step closer to the completion of my one and only mission. This time I had gleaned something from the dead discoloring lieutenant. I had gained ground. As the creature's soul digested, a smile crossed my lips. I was confident. A reckoning between serpent and cattle was nearing, and my own hunger was reaching impossible bounds.

Leaving the ground and looking down on the frayed city block, I found it difficult to control my delight.

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