He had heard of all his friends talking, there was a large buzz around the town. Something big was happening. The other night down at the corner shop, he had overheard Old Man Gillman talking to Mrs. Tohdstuf. From the small bit he caught, Gillman had seen a large crowd around the city hall. Alfred didn’t know what exactly that meant, but he himself had seen lots of foot traffic headed towards the center of town all week.

One day while out buying the things his mother had asked, he found himself unconsciously following a group of older men. Taller than him, and with faces full of hair; Alfred was captivated with these men. Rough looking customers, all of them.

Scars gnarled their faces, smiles into crooked smirks and eyebrows permanently raised. They stepped in unison, a well oiled and worked machine; but this machine had a bug. Then all limped within this unison, giving way to tales of even more damage dealt to them. Falling in line behind them, Alfred tried to mimic their stepping sequence. He tilted his back a few degrees, puffing out his chest and swung his arms to a fro.

Marching on and on, towards the City Hall; Every male that caught site of the marchers soon followed suit. Soon, a long line stretching for blocks was headed down towards the center of town.  Alfred became so enthralled by what was happening; he didn’t even comprehend the low piercing whine getting louder and louder.

The City Hall was a building reaching towards the heavens. Its exterior was nothing but stainless steel walls. No eyes peered within, and none without. There was one entrance into the monolith, a small ramp leading from the street to the ground underneath it. Down the troupe marched, disappearing from the site of the city.

The basement was flooded with Red Lights and concrete barriers.  Along the wall, stretching from one end to the other small areas hollowed out; just big enough to fit a man standing. The man behind a glass control room in the corner of the large room pressed a button and a speaker activated in the room.

“Greetings, Gentlemen. We are about to begin. If you would please take your place along the wall, we can get started.”

Without a thought or a word of protest, the collection of men who had marched down to City Hall were now lining its basement walls. Once the last man was inside a crevice, the lights dimmed even more and a brace lowered from above each man. Pressing them close into the wall, a breather appeared as well and covered their mouths. Within seconds the room had passed out.

When Alfred awoke, he had no bearing as to where he was. The room was dark and the floor kept cold and damp. He could hear the dripping of liquid somewhere in the room, and that only reminded him more of how dehydrated he was. He was wearing clothes he didn’t remember putting on. They were baggy and hanging from his body, they felt coarse and itchy; something his mother would never make him to wear. Finding a corner, he crawled up into it and tried to comfort himself.

A large groan resounded throughout the walls and floor, and a sliver of light transformed into a canyon. Bright and intense, it strained Alfred’s eyes; making him realizing he must have been locked away for quite a while.

A voice boomed from the light, “Number 040076, Stand. You are being summoned”

“My name is Alfred! Where am I? What did I do?”

From out the opening, Alfred heard the voice talk to someone else “076 is still experiencing pre-Transformation symptoms. How shall I proceed? … Roger”

The light became shadowed with a hulking figure. The head was very round, as if it wore an egg. In its hand was a club of sorts. “Number 040076, Stand now or face punishment.”

Still disorientated, Alfred continued to shout out “My name is Alfred! I am not a number! I am Alfred!”

The guard took that as good reason to enact the punishment. Taking three quick steps and standing over the boy, he began to crack him with the club. Knocking his knees and shins, he yelled over and over, “You are Number 040076. You are now a Government Employee. You do as WE say” The guard taught Alfred this lesson until he could no longer bear to be conscious.

 “Number 040076 needed a crash course in his lesson from last week. I don’t think we are making any headway with this little shit. I recommend we just dump him.”

Crackling over the radio, “Negative, we need every pumping heart we can get. I’ll see if the Bio-Tech boys need any more brains for this new project they are working on.”

“Copy that, I’ll have someone tie him up and prepare for transport.” The guard replied.

                Being shaken around in the flatbed of a transport truck on a bumpy road was the next thing Alfred remembered. His hands were tied behind his back; his feet bound by a chain the hands. Over his head, a black plastic band was taped in place. Coughing with a horrible wheeze, Alfred spit out a clot of blood; that splattered against the plastic and flecked into his eye. He revolted back in pain.

                That was a bad move, for the guard sitting in the back with him took that as a hostile action; and again cracked a club sharply against his skull. Knocking him out once more. 

What is the color of death?

Do you hear the wind cry?

What is the color of death?

Is it the black veil of the mourning mother?

Is it the flossy white dress of the newly wed?

Is it the color of your blood?

As it flows from your veins and down the drain.

Does it smell like pollenation?

Does it smell like rancid unrination?

The stench of smoldering ash

The decaying trees and life long past.

These are the signs of death.

A celebration of life-

A cycle that will not end,

A cycle that will not bend.

The color of death is bright orange.

The color of death is pale moon.

The color of death is the black sky.

What is the color of death you ask?

Why, it’s the color of life.

xxixiimxmvi:

To evoke ones muse

is to use all one can do.

Some believe it childish,

to call upon something outside of us.

People say the world is changing,

I’d have to disagree.

The world will always be the same,

it is we who have changed.

Rearranged, becoming something quite estrange. 

No longer in tuned with reality,

we take things only at face value.

We’ve lost the arts-

all of them.

Thinking.

Living.

Being.

Dark magics and scholarly sciences,

it’s one in the same.

Our dreams became diseases,

our fears became afflictions.

We’ve left our safety in the hands of others,

who would quickly sell us off to hounds.

Would you think it silly our leader

is nothing more then a puppet on a string?

Lifeless he hangs,

limp and useless,

till the master bids his time,

looking for ways to manipulate and CHANGE.

But also don’t think it’s just him,

either a smell jack ass or a simple minded elephant,

both courses lead to the same destination.

Bad news for you.

Bad news for me.

Do the right thing-

Think - For yourself

Live - For yourself

Be ——— YOURSELF

I’m led down this path

Twisting and turning

Leading me to places I never knew existed.

Trapped in this web of confusion,

I’m lead to believe it’s nothing more than a contusion.

A minor speed bump,

Something that happens-

We all face it, just a minor hump.

Led me down your path of sincerity,

Only to see it’s a cage of disparity.

 Bound by this confusion,

Now I am loose and set free

From these horrid illusions.

Walking out of the building, I was still confused; But a transfer completed none the less. Now I was only left wondering where this path away from Frank would lead me.

Amanojaku

That sounded way too Asian for me. Where the hell was he coming from any way? Any demon I had seen down here so far were all large, European looking archtypes. Long horns, red skin and tiny wings. I think the only Asian I saw was driving a taxi from Styx to the outer walls. I don’t even think he was Asian now, maybe just the skin around his face was really rotten. 

Either way, I was prepared to face the decisions I made. I just needed to get into a new environment.

[Upon leaving the main path leading away from the Ordo Classifcarium, I spotted the woman from the lake. She was wandering aimlessly around, her arms looking to make contact with something. It was almost as if she was blind, praying to not run into a pole or someone else. 

Too embarrassed ]

At the moan split of the mourning star grazing across the horizon of our wretched skies. Deep from the bowels of the Lions Mouth; Constructed along the cliff side realm of our damned ring, same shooting fourth the bastard sun, rejected across a span of aeons of chaotic beginnings. Launched from the Blasphemous arrow of the pearch god-daemon Pazuzu, its flexed arms for zenith projectory arched back its burnt as Icarus wings. 

The shrieking cry of the falling sun shook me awake from a very odd dream. 

It took me back to when I was still, you know, alive. 

There I was. I’m just sitting there in a chair. It seems like a nice chair, I musta been doing pretty well at whatever I was doing. But there is this man, this big, old, burnt out man. His hair long abandoned ship from the mount of his skull, the flowing stab of hair along the sides presented the man as a late night grave keeper. 

I don’t really remember much but he just keep raising his arm and his voice, but he was laying down; in now way causing any indication of a threat to me or himself. 

It was just a really strange dream. I heard some people at the tavern discussing how believed that when you dream in hell, its really not a dream at all. It’s a look at your memories.

In dreams, it’s what you create it; some times good or bad. Memories. Memories only bring up pain and regrets. Poor ideas and idiotic execution. Failure and defeat. 

Stamped and signed in a scrawled, shaking hand writing was written Half before the 3rd Sun Descends. I was getting close to running late to my new reporting. I had better get on my way. 

Appearing out in the street in front of me a marching patrol of lesser spawns waddles down the street. Their deep purple skin dried out and caked along their small builds. The largest of them held a sword a few inches too big for him. He waddled this and there trying to hold the weapon with pride. 

“Excuse me?”

“COMPANY! HALT!” 

The tiny regiment of creeping spawns stopped short, the last barley missing colliding with the 2nd to last in line. 

Dropping the sword and hoping up along the wall next to me and launching at me, the leader deamon spawn had pinned me to the ground. Pushing its wretched smelling face into mine, it breathed in and out; awashing me in rancid stenches and aurmoas. I stunk of the sulfur and mercury, the blaze fringed the edges of my days garments.

“What do you you seek to find, Humaaan.” The demon hacked out the words in a tounge I could understand. Watching its small yet developing frame linger above me, taking a sense of pride in its ability to show up too the Matured Level of spawns that were advising them among the wall tops. 

I grabbed out the paper from my inner clock and pointed to the written creed. The demons quadruples eyes quickly scanned in a crisscrossing patter soaking up every letter, punctuation, sentence structure and within a matter of seconds understood the largely scrolled out sheet. 

Launching itself back, while still having hold of my cloak; the beast stood up and held me while flying upwards towards the walls. The Matured Spawns standing uppon the wall didn’t differ much in appearance from the Lesser spawns down along the road, accept for the fact these troops were allowed to be adorned with armor. The larger of the two Matured Spawns made the Less dwarfed, four times over. 

On the helm of the brute, out protruded to elephant almost guised trunks. The marble looking horns were smithed along into the working of the steel helmet. The edges worked with black holding steel, the larger, more protected material consisted of a polished red rock mined from the lower pits of the gnashing teeth, just past the cryptic Shrine of Mad Laughter.

Tthe secondary demon upon the wall had opted to not carry a helmet. and In stead it held a large shield. The center held a trifecta of skulls. Smashed and shatter the fronts were, but attached and intact none the less. 

“Why you bring us simple human, you too lazy to handle this worm yourself? To think you can carry around that sword with you. HA! I laugh at you.” Barked out the larger of the two.

Enraged the Less Spawned attacked with no remorse and was instantly split in half but the larger Demon. Swiftly it unsheathed a sword larger then what the Lesser and left on the ground down on the streets. Much good a too large sword did for him. 

Within the frenzy, I managed to slip away from them and make my way back to the street. I think I knew my way over to what was written on the scroll.

Mourners Path, Despondent Woods, Stygian Docks. 

Stygian? 

You mean like the Styx? Why do I need to go across the Styx?

Once inside the Ordo Classifarium, I instantly became lost. Long, winding tunnels, dripping walls of sulphuric water, floors oozing out putried bile. Every step I took made a choir of the damned wail in agonizing terror. I knew just as well as I was going as I did the inner workings of a nuclear powered rocket.

Complete cluelessness

Having traveled what I figured were endless circles, I finally ran into something that looking it could aid me. 

Crawling along the ground in front of me, I spotted a six legged, two headed creature. Small in size, but interesting in its nature. I studied it closely. The base of the neck rotted away, revealing a twisted mass of fabricated metal and natural bones. Extending down towards the torso of the creature, this combination of mechanical enginering and organic mystery ensnared my attention. 

Distracting me so much, I couldn’t hear the increased noise of the walls hissing. From the crawling shadows formed the outline of a man. Then out of the ominus oblivieon out stepped a…

I don’t know what It was. 

Made from the intertwining crawling abyss that made up the flowing energy of the building, the substance formed what looked to be a man but was not. The eyes glowed a dark blue, but they were nothing more then sockets in the already gapped mock of a man. 

It mirrored me in almost every aspect. The same height, looked to be the same build size. Even the hair mimicked my own. 

“How can I be of assistance to you, mortal? You seem lost”

Well, it sure wasn’t an idiot. 

“Yeah, you could say that I’m lost. Maybe I’m not really lost, but just trying to find my own way.”

“You are lost.”

“You’re right. Ok, basically you are the first person I’ve seen in the past three hours and I  just need to fix a little problem. Do you think that you could help me out?”

And with that question, the same slithering, shadowy force that had created the man before, separated off the wall the right of me and revealed  a large office. Sitting at oddly arranged desk was an entire army of slaving away husks. Their withered bodies bearly clinging to life. 

From their necks protruded a 5 small metal rods, forming a crpytic halo around their head. Attached to the end of each rod was a thin metal wire that hooked into the four corners of the mouth, pulling back and revealing aged and rotted teeth. The 5th and top string was hooked in between the eyes, pulling back the skin and keeping a stern look plastered upon the zombiefied horrors.

The same shadowy force that was twisting and warping and contorting squirmed and ensnared me within its cold, gooey grasp. Tentacle like appendages slithered around my arms and legs, then with easy, it carried me through the air and slammed my body into a chair two sizes too small for me. 

The floor in front of me slid apart, opening a small box. From the square in the ground extended out a tall pillar. After its full size came out, I realized it was a computer console. A robotic voice peeped out at me, “Please state your reason for coming to the Ordo. Wait for the beep…*Beep*”

“Hi, I was looking to see if I could possibly transfer my dem-“

*Beep*

The computer shut off and began to slowly slide back into the ground. I looked around in a state of concern.

“Hey! this this just like shut off. I didn’t even tell it what I was here for!”

Surrounded by things, but my cries were of no avail. Not one thing stopped to see what the issue was. Deciding to take things into my own hands, I wiggled me way out of the slithering foces grip and started to walk around again. 

There was a simple, wooden door at the end of the room. The center was fitted with the fogged glass, and in neat letters were written MAIN OFFICES. I figured that was as good a place to look for some real help then any other.

I began to think more to myself as I made my way through the office. Why did hell have such a modernistic, corporate feel to it? At its inner heart, it’s run by demonic machine hybrids. Had Lucifer lost sight of his goals? Did natural and holistic ways give into effectiveness and processes? 

Either way, I needed to get the hell away from Frank. 

After leaving the party in a rush, I tried to make it back to my site of the land. I was just so shaken up from all the nights fun activities. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to take up that invite. What was I thinking? Demons and humans don’t mix. They are the top dogs and we are the scum off their feet. 

I mean, watching lords of legions of hell is fun and all. Having the very center of my mind torn apart and then stitched worked back together by the shaking hands of Dr. Mengele, or at least that’s what it had made my head feel like the next day. I’ve never even had hangovers back before that were this bad. 

All of this just wanted me to distance myself between Frank and I. Don’t get me wrong, he is a fantastic executioner and his skills with his blade are phenomenon. But, it all just felt we were taking this whole buddy-buddy thing a little too fast.

The next morning, after making my way through the stretching line of boredom for our daily caffeine flavored dirt drinks, I made my way out of the dining swamp and headed to the long connecting path way. 

This large bridge, formed the the bones of fallen angels; gathered since before the downfall of Lucifer and his original devout followers. Massive, the bones made a formidable bridge. One would swear they were equivalent to the titian’s of ancient Greece.

It connected the lower parts, where the souls were kept, to the higher reaches. Up top of the cascading cliff sides stood a building of great intimidation. Formed just as Franks home, the reaching stalagmite building protruded off into crooked and jagged angles.  

In front of me loomed the Ordo Classifarium. This ancient building was forged in the first Aeon of hell’s reign. I read it on a little plaque a about a quarter of a mile away from the building. 

For a lack of better term, this building is the main offices. Satan sits at the tallest tower, with his nice throne. The walls bleed and ooze out puss, the minions beckon to his every call. It must be real nice for him there. 

The walk way leading towards the main gateway was paralleled by iron rods. Some were adorned with a rotting carcass. I figured these were just the last remains of a rebellion that happened 3 deca-mellenium ago. I had heard a short mention of that the other night at Frank’s house. 

Somewhat uneasy at the surrounding spits, I tread carefully. Being as a new soul, I wasn’t even sure if we had the proper clearance to come this way. Was there a hot line I was supposed to call?

“Hey!” 

I almost jumped right out of my skin. What the hell just said that? I thought things things were dead and I haven’t  heard the fluttering of wings overhead. Nor had I spotted a damned soul anywhere within the last twenty minutes; but I don’t think the thick fog overlay hurt my vision or anything, either.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Yeah you, over here. Help me!”

Turning around in a three sixty, there seemed as if one of the bodies impaled on a spike was motioning too me. What I actually saw as I came within clear visibility was some quite comically sad. Starting from the lower left back and having the end splitting out the right side of its lower neck, the twisted body’s head was forced back at a incapacitated angle. As if its neck was snapped, and the head was left to swing and sway in anyway it pleased. 

For reasons of self loathing, I once again felt the need to help. I was willing to hear his case and see what I could do. 

“What can I  help you with? I really don’t have a lot of time, so could you make it quick?”

A high pitched shriek came from the withering bag of bones, I could only think of it as a depressive sigh or laugh. 

“Look at me man, I’m a mess. You gotta do something.”

Looking back and forth, still enshrouded in the fogbreath, I didn’t spot anything to cause suspicion of being caught. 

“Nah man, I don’t think I can be of any help to you. Because coming to think of it, at orientation they said something about No breaking the oath of Hell’s Honor, and boy do I care about protecting that seal I signed.”

“Oh, of course. How could I forget, Hell’s Honor….”

“Yeah, well sorry!” 

And with that I turned and continued to keep making my way towards the large office doors. But from behind me I heard as he called out.

“Come on, man! You can’t do this! At least get me a water or something! I’m dying over here!”

I hurried, forcing my legs to go faster then they ever have. The shrieks from that thing were getting worse and worse, to the point where it must have made someone mad. 

From the thick darkness descended a trio of winged terrors. Armed with halberd’s, the tore limb from torso. Leaving the already impaled creature limbless. The largest of the three demons hovered in front of the culprit and made a very clear statement.

“We come back again, you live your life all over again; but this time as a worm. But I will have Mammon spawn your wretched soul above a nest of feeding birds. And this will continue for all of eternity. Until the gates of heaven are crashed down and the Lord, The Dark One, is back upon his rightful thrown. Do I make myself clear, miscreant?”

With that off the three left and still ever undetected continued onward towards the offices. 

I

Tracking through the woods,

Searching for prey

The wolf seeks fulfillment

II

Lonely the wolf sits,

Bidding his time.

Moving only when fortune favors.

III

In the clearing the sheep tend the pasture

The wolf waits,

Never to be called by a master.

IV

In crimson red snow,

A yearling wolf breathes its last breath.

Taking a chance but losing life’s grasp.

V

Dark night skies outline a crouching wolfs hide.

High up on the mountain top,

Alone he cries for the moon to reply.

VI

Rushing rivers pass,

Salmon swimming towards the spawning,

Alone the wolf waits for the challenge.

VII

A mother watches her cubs,

Teaching her ways and leading them naught astray,

For in these days a wolf is either made or left to stay. 

Rather not,

thanks anyways  

Wow I am so going to do this right now!