Schuh

Darko walks purposefully down Cornmarket street towards the shoe store. He pretends not to see the heavy-set, middle-aged woman dropping her bag as she stumbles out of a shop. He steps around her as she scrambles to retrieve her belongings from the pavement. Catching a glimpse of his filthy shoes, Darko’s resolve to get to the shoe store strengthens and he quickens his pace. 

As he reaches the store, Darko sees that the shoes he wanted are still in the window and feels relieved that his upcoming interaction with the shop clerk is likely to be brief. To his dismay, he is immediately greeted by, a young salesgirl with purple hair, heavy makeup and tacky rings on her fingers. He ignores her enthusiastic offer of assistance and gestures towards the shoes on display. Darko can’t help but stare at her tiger-print pants as she struts off to fetch his size. Nevertheless, his mind wanders to the memory of the events that led him to this very moment. He now wished that he had planned his venture into the woods more thoroughly. Had he done so, he would not be in this cage of consumerism replacing his otherwise functional shoes. 

With his new purchase in hand, Darko leaves the store and hears a seemingly agitated caw above him. A crow soars into the darkening sky and Darko feels the chill of the evening, zipping his coat up to his chin. He is ready to go home and shut the door behind him, feeling drained from his shopping experience.

Cradle

I never forgot about you. How could I? You were there every hour of every goddamn day. Everywhere I turned I saw you, looking back at me with your pathetic brown eyes. Your ridiculously stubby arms reaching out towards me while you shrieked at the top of your miserable lungs. The air you breathed irritated every fibre of my being.

I grew to despise what you were, who you became. I cannot remember why I ever wanted you around me in the first place.  You sucked away my beauty, my air, my life. You still do. 

Most days, I ask myself why I stay here in this room, this temple I built for you. I find no answer. You can have it. Keep it and live or die in it, but stop calling for me, stop screaming my name.  I will not love you, nor do I want to touch you ever again.

I can see how you have changed now. You are but an unconscious lump, an atrophied mass of weak bones and soft muscle. I know.  Oh yes, I know that you think you have become this abomination because of me. Your constant need of me is killing you. Your simple mind contorts and breaks your body every moment you wish for my love.  

I don't care.  I never did care for you. I should leave you right now. 

I will not, because you can never possibly see, you asinine creature, that I will not want you, ever.  And slamming your head against the sides of your cot will only kill you faster.

Every one of them

These are my words of humble farewell.

I have spent my every waking hour in prayer, for everything I was and that which I am and shall be, has been beyond my reach. Hidden and locked away somewhere, the key carried by the Bedouins of the Badawi tribe. Lost in the arid deserts, never to be seen by the eyes of Man.

For thirty days, I prayed and believed, lost hope and faith. For thirty days, I stumbled in the blackness of solitude with the soft tendrils of melancholy brushing my ankles. There I found the most unlikely ray of turbulent light streaming down from the sky. Closer and full of clammy hesitance, I looked into the light and what I saw spurred me to lay these words down for you to see.

In the light, the prophet mannequin whispered his lies to me as I looked at his accusing finger pointing straight into my soul. I couldn't help but stand still while he clawed into me with viciousness only Hate himself could understand. 

  

---

To you or I

Here I am, surrounded by towers of sin and intoxication. I breathe the acrid air and taste the traces of rust dust. The Sisters cackle at their own jokes. They mumble and mutter their words as they chitter and chatter about their loves and hates and giggles.  


The pounding hearts in the Temple of the Dead resonate across the air, feeding my ears the sounds of the multitudes.  Their groans and moans punch their way through my skin.


I am distracted by the Sisters once more.  They froth at the mouth and flick their arms around in some secret sign language. My brain fails to comprehend their gestures and ceases to function.


At the blackness, I catch a glimpse of one of the Sisters. She glances back, our peripheral visions crossing. I taste her lips, from a distance.  They feel silky and small, taste of soft pink fruits. Light, sweet and not innocent at all. She gestures to her Sister and giggles. 


I feel invisible, an intruder, voyeur, a fly-on-the-wall. Then I taste her warmth through the metal grille and I notice I had been holding my breath.  


The wood underfoot hardens and grows and pushes me higher, enough to reach the sky. I watch the Sisters below me, as they chatter on amongst themselves.  


The air grows heavier and my breathing slows down to an irregular rhythm.  The chains around my throat and wrists and ankles, constrict and choke me. I regurgitate my words and my voice fades to a lonely silence.


For the rest of my eternity, I inhaled the Sisters' singing and muttering as the coldness tugged at my heart. I was left loving them all, and hating them all. They were the Sisters I hated or loved.

Omni

I woke up in a confined space and I can't remember how I got here. I was unbound but there was not much room for movement. The cell I was in was sterile and constricting, and the plastic walls themselves propped me up. 

I could hear the other inmates, in the cells next to me and also the floor above me.  I could smell their perspiration permeating the prison air.  It suddenly dawned on me that we were moving.  The floor beneath me rocked sideways and shook irregularly. Occasionally there was a rough bump which, had we not been confined to such small cells, would have thrown us about like rag dolls considering our weakened state.  The inmates collectively breathed in sharply at this, then some muttered and some others stifled a desperate sniffle.

It was pitch dark and I could only guess where it was that they were taking us from what I heard. I tried to concentrate on the sounds coming from beyond the cell walls, but the other inmates were distracting me. Someone from a cell which couldn't have been too far from mine, shouted weakly, "We'll get out of here... soon. Stay strong, broth-".  His pep talk was cut short by another jolt as the floor dropped away from us then came rushing back up, flinging us against the roof and slamming us down hard again. 

Mustering the fragmented determination that was left in me, I pushed either hand against opposite cell walls and supported my body as I pressed my face to the cold wall. The walls gave off a faint chemical smell. I tried to listen to the moving outside world to learn more of what might happen to us when we get out. If we ever do.

After an excruciatingly long journey, our death camp truck stopped to an abrupt halt and the cells shook savagely one last time. Then silence. Every one of the inmates was listening hard and trying their best to gauge what comes next from the sounds outside.  Even the snivelling inmate in the cell at the far corner from me quieted down to a voiceless whimper.

There were two or three different voices I could pick up. They were unclear and very probably obscured by the padded thickness of our cell walls. The voices were loud, full of energy and punctuated randomly by a sharp glassy clinking sound. Someone from a cell behind me spoke to his neighbouring cellmate. I ignored him and continued to focus on our surroundings.

The sounds continued to rise and fall and the glassy tinkles emerged every so often. I still couldn't make a word of what was being said, except when the speakers came close to our container. I heard the words "hung-ery" and "raucous" and also "part-ey" a couple of times.

At one point after a momentary lull there was a sharp loud crack, like a cannon shot, which shook us all. The quiet weeping started again, this time accompanied by the remaining inmates' scared whispers and hushed warnings.

Then it happened. What we were waiting for happened.

The roof of the containment cells were lifted away, ripped off, taking the upper floor of inmates with it. They disappeared into the bright light that blinded us the moment it entered our cells.

By the time the glare subsided and my eyes settled to the glimpse of the outside world, the prison was a raging chaos. Some of the prisoners in my block screamed, others cried, and others rocked about violently against the plastic walls of their cells, letting out only mumbled nonsense. I realised that these inmates had been gagged and bound. Wrapped, from top to bottom in the metal sheeting they used to calm the rowdiest of us.  The skies had enormous flesh-creatures hovering above us. They swooped down and lifted the unfortunate prisoner into the bright oblivion above. Someone next to my cell screamed, "The vores! It's the vores!" seconds before he was plucked away from his cell.

Madness struck. The screams turned to moans of pleasure and yearning. The more of us were chosen and lifted skywards, the more I wanted to be with them. Chosen, picked and taken with the rest.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched Vanille, Ms Fudge and Delight disappear with the fingered monster as it snatched the three at once. I pushed down against the cell walls and lifted myself as high as I could go, desperately hoping to attract their attention.

I must be worth something. I did carry a whole hazelnut inside me, after all.

Your court

I am your jester, you are my king.

When you demand it, I dance for you.
When you wish it, I play a fool.
When it amuses you, I rhyme in verse.

When you worry, I cheer with you (for you).
When you laugh, I laugh for you (with you).
If you're silent, I sit at your side.
If the court is tedious, I irrittate them all.

All of this I do for you.
For I am your jester, you are my king.

Until that day you cast me aside.

Stripped my costume and took my face.

Until that day, my KInG.

Until that day, I killed you.

And ever

I slowly edged closer to her under the sheets.  She was so very warm and I snuggled against her, careful not to wake her.

I gently moved my hand over her perfect thighs and felt her smooth skin with my fingertips. I ran my fingers around every contour, over every ridge; the subtle rise of her hip, the small ridge of her knee, up the back of her thighs reaching the frilled bounderies of her undies. 

I loved every inch of her flawless body.

My hand slowly and smoothly slid onto her abdomen. I lay my hand flat and felt the bottom of her rib cage with my little finger. Her every breath slow, warm, deep. Her ribs moving with her every breath, heaving, up, down, filling my ears with her heavenly presence. The light touch of my fingers reached for her bare chest and I could feel her heart, rhythmically thumping its muffled beat. Time slowed down to a viscous stop.

Her breasts soft, her skin so peaceful it made my hands feel worn, rough and cruel. 

I gently pressed my forehead to the back of her head and inhaled the sweetness of her hair which invaded my nostrils and eyes.

My other hand crept carefully into the nook between her neck and the pillow and I reached with my fingers to tenderly stroke the muscles of her neck. She swallowed abruptly and I froze, hoping she would not awaken.

I wrapped my hand around her waist, fitting my knees against the back of hers, her back curved against my chest. Her warmth embalmed me and I lay still listening to her breathing.

I kissed her nape through her hair and tightened my grip around her neck.

She struggled and I held her down from her waist, locking her legs with mine.

She tried to cough and could now only wriggle against me as I choked her.

A strangled gasp escaped from her lips as she elbowed my side and thrashed uselessly.

I pressed harder feeling her windpipe against my fingers.

I held her and crushed her with an unrelenting passion.

I kissed her on the back of her neck, her hair was on my lips and on my face. She was warm and I lifted my head and whispered heavily into her ear, "I cannot love you more than this."