Death lesson 8-10
8
Racoon eyes, hole through the center of his face and a translucent color that was a green that looked like it was persuading you to think it was blue. He thought about what he was to do, and the disappearance of his dear friend Alex Addison.
He was only one of many shifting guests, mourning the loss of an innocent who seemed only to find suffering.
The disappearance of the heart and the host dies, however, the Addison family was a perverse corpse that refused death. Lumbering with stumbling hatred at any thought of Jolene. (She stayed away from the funeral for she had brought the book the one the had summoned Tngocs, the penguin who was king of the wasteland. The penguin who survived the nuclear winter. The great cold one of the Sarcastic-Hallelluagha.)
Alex's clan had a wake that the little ghost haunted like the nobility of England clung to the British isle. He listened to stories frustrated and ashamed that they had no faith in him or hope in the optimism that Alex brought with him. The way the family had given up on any hope that Alex would ever be seen again. Instead, treating the image in the frame like it was as good as the living one that they all missed.
Liam felt a hole in his heart, a hole in that would destroy all of his afterlife, if not confronted. "what I must do is fulfill my 'unfinished' business so that I may cross over!" thought the little ghost. His faith, no his conviction was that it must start with this wake.
So inspired he begin his journey by terrorizing the wake of his best friend. Liam revealed himself to the Addison family by descending from the ceiling as a Thompson twins song played "I have a picture pinned to my wall." the family stared at the maggot textured face of the corpse like ghost begin to dance the waltz with a cousin of Alex, whose name is irrelevant. She cried as he was floating staring into her eyes while several feet off of the ground. fingers entwined as they spun now levitating across the floor almost bumping there head against the low roof of the family home as the song in all its cheezy glory repeat a chorus of "hold me now, whoa, hold my heart."
The young women cried as the family, some screaming, others speaking in tungs while the educated college cousin levitating with what they perceived to be the devil. Quietly cried and without a measurable emotion on her face stared into the face of the dead. They danced, Liam three foot tall and proud and the young woman was barely over five foot tall.
"You are no fun," said the little ghost and he is now crying "no fun at all..." then he lowered her to her family and screamed a roar that silenced all. before floating through the ceiling as the music climaxed then quickly died.
He was only one of many shifting guests, mourning the loss of an innocent who seemed only to find suffering.
The disappearance of the heart and the host dies, however, the Addison family was a perverse corpse that refused death. Lumbering with stumbling hatred at any thought of Jolene. (She stayed away from the funeral for she had brought the book the one the had summoned Tngocs, the penguin who was king of the wasteland. The penguin who survived the nuclear winter. The great cold one of the Sarcastic-Hallelluagha.)
Alex's clan had a wake that the little ghost haunted like the nobility of England clung to the British isle. He listened to stories frustrated and ashamed that they had no faith in him or hope in the optimism that Alex brought with him. The way the family had given up on any hope that Alex would ever be seen again. Instead, treating the image in the frame like it was as good as the living one that they all missed.
Liam felt a hole in his heart, a hole in that would destroy all of his afterlife, if not confronted. "what I must do is fulfill my 'unfinished' business so that I may cross over!" thought the little ghost. His faith, no his conviction was that it must start with this wake.
So inspired he begin his journey by terrorizing the wake of his best friend. Liam revealed himself to the Addison family by descending from the ceiling as a Thompson twins song played "I have a picture pinned to my wall." the family stared at the maggot textured face of the corpse like ghost begin to dance the waltz with a cousin of Alex, whose name is irrelevant. She cried as he was floating staring into her eyes while several feet off of the ground. fingers entwined as they spun now levitating across the floor almost bumping there head against the low roof of the family home as the song in all its cheezy glory repeat a chorus of "hold me now, whoa, hold my heart."
The young women cried as the family, some screaming, others speaking in tungs while the educated college cousin levitating with what they perceived to be the devil. Quietly cried and without a measurable emotion on her face stared into the face of the dead. They danced, Liam three foot tall and proud and the young woman was barely over five foot tall.
"You are no fun," said the little ghost and he is now crying "no fun at all..." then he lowered her to her family and screamed a roar that silenced all. before floating through the ceiling as the music climaxed then quickly died.
9
She was seventeen and that year was all the difference to Alex. They met at school; he was being bullied. Doing his best, to win a fight that wasn't going his way. Smeared blood, where there used to be a trail of it. Held down, screaming, his voice vibrating from the impact of the fist of his assailant.
"fuck the rules, Liam." Alex screamed. An echo of a chorus one part "is that your boyfriend queer?" and another part "quick shut him up. Before the teachers get a cop". Then the lights went out, Jolene heard there screams reverberating through the halls being chased by impish laughter.
The sound of sliding feet over smears of blood. Lights are flickering before they turn on, revealing a bald androgynous figure punching an unconscious, fat bloated and soon to be bruising face of his fellow student. Silhouette of madness, eyes looking at her. Like a hunting hound carrying back a rabbit still warm in its jaws. Eyes of a green cosmos, or, the projection of the aurora lights flickering on the mask like a reflection of a mirror showing nothing but the voice of the dead, felt as long forgotten, abandoned, or, perverted emotions normally kept behind locked doors. Then those eyes turn away and get one more flick of the hip, one more punch before being dragged off by a teacher.
"So god hand's an early draft of his book, the Bible, to the devil to read. after a while, the devil looks at god and says 'I don't think you have a talent for writing...if I was you I would kill myself.' god looks down at the table disappointed then says 'naw, I think I will get my son to do it.'" This is where there should be laughter but there wasn't Jolene looks at Alex, and with disappointment in her voice, she says "I don't get it." Alex says "There is nothing to get it's a joke." " Yeah, but...So why is it supposed to be funny?" "'cause some people not only believe in that bullshit but dedicate there life to it. That makes me laugh." Jolene giggles, as they sit outside on the front steps of the school. Alex had just had his handcuffs taken off. the sky was failing from blue to black much like his right jaw, though not nearly as swollen. the three boys who beat the hell out of him were still in their handcuffs but everyone knew that they would not be for long. The police, when they were through talking Alex's mother, would say "Go on home." then, to everyone's surprise, the horizon flickered with a flash of light but there was no sound other than that of cars starting. Then there was a sudden downpour and the night was buried by the storm on the horizon. The rain washing away the day with clear skies overhead.
"fuck the rules, Liam." Alex screamed. An echo of a chorus one part "is that your boyfriend queer?" and another part "quick shut him up. Before the teachers get a cop". Then the lights went out, Jolene heard there screams reverberating through the halls being chased by impish laughter.
The sound of sliding feet over smears of blood. Lights are flickering before they turn on, revealing a bald androgynous figure punching an unconscious, fat bloated and soon to be bruising face of his fellow student. Silhouette of madness, eyes looking at her. Like a hunting hound carrying back a rabbit still warm in its jaws. Eyes of a green cosmos, or, the projection of the aurora lights flickering on the mask like a reflection of a mirror showing nothing but the voice of the dead, felt as long forgotten, abandoned, or, perverted emotions normally kept behind locked doors. Then those eyes turn away and get one more flick of the hip, one more punch before being dragged off by a teacher.
"So god hand's an early draft of his book, the Bible, to the devil to read. after a while, the devil looks at god and says 'I don't think you have a talent for writing...if I was you I would kill myself.' god looks down at the table disappointed then says 'naw, I think I will get my son to do it.'" This is where there should be laughter but there wasn't Jolene looks at Alex, and with disappointment in her voice, she says "I don't get it." Alex says "There is nothing to get it's a joke." " Yeah, but...So why is it supposed to be funny?" "'cause some people not only believe in that bullshit but dedicate there life to it. That makes me laugh." Jolene giggles, as they sit outside on the front steps of the school. Alex had just had his handcuffs taken off. the sky was failing from blue to black much like his right jaw, though not nearly as swollen. the three boys who beat the hell out of him were still in their handcuffs but everyone knew that they would not be for long. The police, when they were through talking Alex's mother, would say "Go on home." then, to everyone's surprise, the horizon flickered with a flash of light but there was no sound other than that of cars starting. Then there was a sudden downpour and the night was buried by the storm on the horizon. The rain washing away the day with clear skies overhead.
10
"Surely I am in, hell," said Rumple Gorey. The biblical apocalypse inside of one young man's soul can be daunting. "The sadness, tragedy, no I dare irony of a man and his situation can be daunting." Rumple, is reading from a screenplay we call fate. If the producers had more money, however, we would have hired Rod Serling. Fate, however, is not just cheaper than Rod but also more unpredictable. The voice fills the room "So, it is, you will come to my city of New Jerusalem." Terrified, button eyes look around seeking the owner of the voice in his head. "Seek and you will find, see and you will saw, up and down sometimes dropping off suddenly only to rise again triumphant. The universe is a playground, and you are all here trying to find your father, It is I child calling you home." "you sound like a god damn child molester existing beyond everything we call civilization. You sound like a son of a bitch." "Well, you know what on second thought...fuck you!" "You were supposed to die for my sins, and if that was so, we all know your ass would have stayed dead." Screamed the increasingly insane voice of the deranged rag doll arguing with God. Silence, the void, quiet repercussions. Eternity in the insane asylum of the cosmos. As was written so shall be, God has abandoned you little rag doll, for you have forsaken his call to come home.
The city in the sky beyond any comprehension, it's rules and strange ways. Fasting chambers, gladiatorial war games, and the seeking suspicion that once there is a knock, one should not answer the door. That glory is ambiguous to those who can only see it. And that maybe the layers of possibility placed inside of one's imagination are not of the devil but of the one who created him. Sin is only something that removes one away or distances one from God and in the case Rumple it must be said his circumstances removed him from a hand reaching outward. And that incongruence child, a creator incongruent with his creation is what worries all who wake up, only to hear voices inside there head.
The rag doll's face defied description of the emotion that was chiseled onto it. Sitting huddled in the darkness of a blanket on the couch. A makeshift fort where Rumple Gorey sniveled.
The city in the sky beyond any comprehension, it's rules and strange ways. Fasting chambers, gladiatorial war games, and the seeking suspicion that once there is a knock, one should not answer the door. That glory is ambiguous to those who can only see it. And that maybe the layers of possibility placed inside of one's imagination are not of the devil but of the one who created him. Sin is only something that removes one away or distances one from God and in the case Rumple it must be said his circumstances removed him from a hand reaching outward. And that incongruence child, a creator incongruent with his creation is what worries all who wake up, only to hear voices inside there head.
The rag doll's face defied description of the emotion that was chiseled onto it. Sitting huddled in the darkness of a blanket on the couch. A makeshift fort where Rumple Gorey sniveled.
Comments
Post a Comment