This cold is night and these bones are geared for battle. This being possessed by the devil must rise to face the poisonous evil. Packed to the nines its time for war. Marching through the mirror growling as the shatter rains the floor. Lock, stock and barrel runs through the mind like a list being checked twice. No more dreams for the good tonight unveiled is this nightmare‘s shroud. Piles of ash sift between the cracks of the hands. Evidence of those fallen before you. Tremors of the ground as each step taken gains ground towards the target.
This tail is about to go down a path with no happy ending… Beware for the end wont be as it seems, merely an illusion of what has taken place. Lock your doors and seal your windows. Guys and gals the Reaper is back…
Open the door and the horrific smell of decay throws you back like a lightning bolt through a tree. Each inch closer fumigates the stench of rotting flesh. Spilled over the sinks, left to rot in the plastic bags like yesterdays abortions. The bones full of air pockets as if the littler critter trapped inside screamed C-notes to escape.
Our nightmare takes place right on the Lake. We serve in peace is the motto. We hoard disease its creed. The tone is five o’clock somewhere as tension filters through the air. The bar is served up by popular demand Americas original boy band. With a few side orders of junipers, wheats, grains and The UK’s fighting spirit. A selection of choice makes even the rainbow franchise all sugary spiced.
The longer you sit and jive the more your nose burns to keep you alive. This saddle up of a wanna be cowboy struts his stuff making his arrogance felt. As night goes morning its time for closing. The boss is sleeping as his puppets are cleaning. The sun comes to rise as the garbage urns to die. The flesh of the dead bakes in sewage brine. The sinks spew toxins while they solidify. It is time for pay, but funny no checks arrive. Anger brews as hardcore beverages are consumed. Where be the man off playing in a far away land.
Ignorance is bliss but negligence is sin… Command an order to rid of a feline during a storm no heart do you have. Cancel an event simply because you are incompetent. Travel down the road a bit and you find yourself trapped in quarantined home. Disease is their name abuse is so their favorite game. Trouble is their world is lived like a rabbit in a hole. You wont find wonderland just a landfill of crimson tide and moldy crust inside.
The damned you see are blessed for they get away with murder scratch free. All but sigh we do, but wait for a cure we found. Oh yes baby, its true. First we start by leveling them all to the ground. One by one an array of flashes captures the routines. Youtube debuts the new “Hoarding” channel. Sirens scream as the dirt roads became a cloud of dust as officials surround the area. Doors kicked in and lasers sighted. The frail and frightened animals are protected as the sickness is pinned and arrested.
The media is frenzied but the horrifying images surfacing of abuse and turmoil. Stacks of boxes unpaid, neglected and burned piled high across the rooms as if to hide a fortress of evil… Seems to subtle and gentle? Yes? Yes!
Reality is simple, illusions are distractions. The story must be told with no faults of the truth. Alone in the night these beings sleep soundly with no regret or remorse in life. For this day be their last. When the knob turns to enter their palace they are greeted with a blast. Straight through their bodies nails shoot like darts to a board. Pinned they all scream as their own filth becomes liquid poison. Bleach is poured and a candle is lit.
Before the door closes a shadow emerges, no face, no body, just darkness and a dark shroud. A voice is heard as it whispers “silence”. A wrapper is ruffled the faint smell of chocolate enlightens the air as the shadow steps closer the lights go out. Whispers are deafened by the screams till a hand covers their mouth as the candy is jammed down their throat. As the chocolate melts and the screams fade. A thick toffee is that remains. The whispers are loud as the words they say ” Never again, always & forever this is my name. The door slams shut and a hammer nails a paper that reads; “Condemned by order of the living”
maybe they collect antiques and then there was an illness, anyway interesting point of view, it reminds me of my father who I miss so much