Bury Me Softly

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Originally published in : " Events at the Barker House: Booksie Anthology by Kossettes Novelettes "

A collaboration of Booksie writers who, ( even after reading the House rules , ignored nothing, didn't walk away from fear, emptied themselves, and gave their creativity while dripping blood, sweat and tears ) decided to take on the challenge of writing;
from a wondrous design, created by Sir Kossettes Novelettes , finding a place, that center in themselves,
imagining, changing, twisting; tapping into the unimagined, trying to touch somebody, by taking a chance.
Writing.
Writing.
Words bring us closer.
Dig them up.

Submitted: May 02, 2017

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Submitted: May 02, 2017

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A A A


Prolog: ( Invitation )

This is what my bloody invitation looked liked:

 

I loathe a watch worn on my wrist.

 It makes me feel like I am bound by the tic-tic-tic,

Shackled by urgency with a buckle of haste.

 Instead, I bury a timepiece in my pocket,

stem wound with a hunters case.

 Gold chain locket, I keep the time;

time doesn't keep me, I am the one who survives.

11 p.m..  Look sharp. Bright & Shiny. 

Your presence shall not be tiny.  

~ Barker ~

 

Written on gold leaf paper, etched in green, 

Should I have felt a little less of the curiosity?

My satisfaction was calling back to me.

And, so I found, upon my wondrous gaze, a place of pure astonishment, for a million men must have raised.

Such an incredible structure, born from a cauldrons darkness, standing for all eternity, a house luxurious;

The Estate of Barker.

Built with bones, that would last forever, the flesh slowly fell away; as time can be very clever.

Nothing the bones couldn't persuade; delay the decay,

new skin is all it would need, a pound of flesh for it's greed, must be paid.

11 pm : I am at the front gate, it appears to be locked, time will not wait. 

 I climb up and o'er', for I do not dig,

seduced by this treasure, hoping to see what my future will bring.  

Racing to the front door, my impatience proceeding me, I am greeted by a seductress, The Honest Whore weeping there, verily.

Chpt.1  ( Blood & Wine ) 

" Please, please, enter here freely," she spoke in her weeping voice, spying my invitation; clutched in my hand, inviting me in without hesitation.

I brushed past her shoulder, her thigh making my acquaintance and, entered a large round room, staring at faces consumed with impatience.

" Where have you been? We waited for so long, it's about time you arrived; come, feel like you belong."

The party goers cheered, raising their glasses in my honor. I recognized a few faces, on some I could stare no longer.

Some didn't even dress for the occasion; one that I was I hoping for. Still yet, others dressed appropriate, kindred spirits I could not ignore.

A shadow in the corner wore a mask, eyes covered, drinking from a flask. A woman and man stood solemnly together, watching my arrival with an uncomfortable pleasure. A few more ignored me, their own night to resume and, one or two bodies approached me, here only by invitation I assumed.

The large round room, with a chandelier, was lit and, soft subtle music hummed,, causing my foot to flit.

It seemed I was here, gathered for celebration, but why the reason for these festivities, what was the occasion?

I watched as newer faces came through the door, for I could hear the creaking; and, weeping of The Whore; bodies fading off, down long crimson candlelit corridors.

The long hallways reaching off,

away from the room, like the tentacles of an octopus, suction cups of attraction, like a bloody  spaghetti sauce soaked broom.

A few over there, down that hallway, others followed the person in front of them, shadowing them dumbly.

I stood in the center, no need yet to complain.

Then I noticed something that didn't sit right in my brain.

The girl on the corner with her eyes covered in a mask, a thick red liquid, oozing out of her flask. The wine was not berry, for the smell was wafting over and, no one was drinking sherry  or the wine of a clover. The tinge of copper, the taste of a penny,  the air dissolving on my tongue, the blood wine of the faerie.

Writhing and contorting, ripping flesh followed by a blood feast; whoring. Naked and bruised, soft cruller skin, through the floor boards, absorbing.

The House needs to be fed so it seduces in guests, they tear with their teeth, clawing away at the sound that pulses in their breast.

I found myself in a daze, realizing what was being consumed, so scurry once more, I climb out the room.

Suddenly, from the bodies, half naked and copulating, I squeeze from the feeding, down a corridor, empty and waiting.

Chpt 2 ( Darby ) 

The House had seduced them, wanting blood. That's how the House lived for quite so long. Bones forever, skin not so long.

Blood soaking into the floor, the chandelier flickering, electric sex orchestra, my invitation was a trickering.

So I followed three shiny dots, above a doorway dimly lit, walking away to escape, down a golden corridor split. 

Two doorways at the ending, I chose the one of my left, damned I would be if in this house I would give my last breath.

 A kind voice called to me, urging me along, so I walked through anxiously, leaving behind the skinless orgy, culminating into the devil's flesh song. From whence behind me, the door locked shut, revealing a man, whose face was drained of love.

At first it seemed an illusion, for the face of myself he resembled; but then I accepted it, for the Barker House was quite disheveled.

My only way out? To go deeper in. If it's life I was here to give, without a fight, the House would not win.

" Greetings, my good Sir! So glad of you to come, now hurry your fat ass along, for the I feel the last hour rung."

Midnight approaches and, before me appears an imp. Short in stature but, dapper and, primp.

" Your name ? " he asks, I reply and, ask the same.

" Clive and, before me I've? "

" Darby, in all my shame." Dressed in a green robe, he pulls back the hood. Adjusting a bright golden waist buckle, he exposes his short body. No shirt, just shorts, tattered and rotting. Then I see why, for it's the skin of the guests sewn together, a thousand macrame patches, he hordes them in sin.

I check the door behind me, it's gone. In fact as I reach for it, green fauna has appeared, and in the Barker House we are are no longer.

Emerald leaves glistening with fresh morning dew,  like green blood the fauna bled, gurgled and spew. Far from the blood dripping on the other side of the door, her task at hand, I was away from the busy, orgy conducting whore.

Is this a greenhouse, perhaps a terrarium? Have I just walked into a dimension of the prehistoric or into the belly of ...

Barker.

Chpt 3 ( Gold ) 

" Come. Come."

He urges me along, short in stature, always seeming to sing a song.

" Time is of the essence. The clock is ten minutes 'till. I have buried all that I have been blessed with and, I must remove it before Barker makes his kill."

" Barker makes his kill?..." I ask like I hadn't witnessed the blood soaked orgy.

" Tis' true.

And, since you are the only one the door opened for,

 I need you."

Darby, pulling out a long stemmed wooden pipe, flicks his thumb to his middle finger, making a spark that ignites. He puffs real slow, then smoke billows up. I can tell by the way he dresses he has been locked away in this room long enough. He's collected forgotten pieces of skin, meant to feed the house, used them for leverage, feeding on a spider, perhaps a left over mouse.

He tells me about him : he knows my beliefs cannot be solidified on just a whim.

For centuries the Barker House has kept his hold. So he asks me right away, " My invitation do you hold?"

I reach in my pocket and, he reaches in his. He pulls out a golden chained watch with a locket,  I realize his request for my presence was duplicitous.

"The time is approaching. See how I know?"

He shows the watch described in my invitation, green letter written on gold.

"I thought this was from Barker."

He cuts me off before I can explain, " You are lucky that wasn't from Barker. His guests only feel pain. I sent it to you, ' fore I know your worth. I have watched your dying day all the way back 'till your birth. Now, before you ask yet another simple question, might I offer you the humblest of suggestions. Trust and believe for it's easy to do , if not I will disappear and, so won't you."

"Follow, we have treasure to dig. I won a war with Barker and, it is mine to bring. I give him his blood, so that he may make his bones strong. I sent out invitations, blood soaked you have seen the others. Now I must find my Gold, that many have died for in pain, so that I may make a weapon, so their sacrifice is not in vain."

" Many treacheries lie before us, I may be small in size, but believe me when I tell you, for dessert I eat their eyes."

And, so I followed the imp, the Leprechaun Darby, in search of his treasure, buried deep away from the Barker House army. Those bloody bodies feeding it's existence, I chased along in the Emerald greens for a treasure, full of persistence. Buried for centuries, a treasure, keeping this house alive, asking for sacrifices, on blood it must imbibe.

The heart of Barker House. An eternal feast of blood.  

 Chpt 4 ( Skin )

After the house had consumed, devouring until it was full, the remains of the bodies, down the corridors were pulled.

My heart is racing as I follow the 'chaun, his green robe flapping, exposing his wardrobe of carrion.

"Not too far now, it's just over there," he points to everything in front us, as if he wants to share. "I buried it deep, the dirt they eat like a glutt', it gives them resurrection, more flesh and blood for Barker, to suck."

I am about to ask the 'chaun who he means by "they", only I am halted in my chase after him, by an ear shattering bray. An arm, the muscle exposed, flopping severed veins, blood squirting every which way from it's rancid smelling remains. Then another, followed by teeth chomping. One arm wants to grab me, the other stops it's romping. The bodies they are attached to, have faces that seem familiar, the guests of party,  leaving the trail of a bloody river. They fight over me, one wants my untouched flesh, the other doesn't care, just wanting to eat whatever is left. More creep up, the 'chaun realizing my dilemma, turns to a stop. One pursues him but he pulls a golden whistle, one little tweet and they disappear into the thistle.

So I run to catch up, seeing that he is here to protect me, couldn't he have just shown me the way out if this house?

Fear, 

it gets in the way, causing disbelief.

 I remember his warning.

After all he was the one who invited me, 

here, amidst the pleasure of flesh, twisted and gory,

born from all his grief, a treasure buried in the dirty flooring.

Chpt 5 ( Alchemy )

"We owned this land, upon this house Barker built, we fought with all our powers, but my loss was inevitable still. So, he paid us a handsome ransom, for which he promised to me and my family, then he buried it in that great room, where he drinks the blood wearily. I dug it up and ran down the hall, finding this room, ran out into this green landscape, where I knew one day I must exhume. I sold my soul, when I signed over this land, here I have been trapped, by the blood of my own hand. So, every year, on this very unwelcome night, I call upon a visitor to help take up my fight. The treasure is yours, once I fashion a new time piece, only a few pieces of gold is all I need. The rest is countless, from whatever the chest you take, reappears the next day, wealth and riches you shall never have to fore sake."

As we gouged through the dirt, I felt my fingers hit the box, realizing our worth is sometimes the greatest cost. Here was a man, albeit half the size of others, who gave up everything, for his sisters and brothers. He explained they went on and found peace on the outside, leaving his as a sacrifice; forever inviting the flesh that would soon reside. It became his job to send out an invitation, although sometimes his offerings, he hoped were his salvation.

There were others too, dwelling down each corridor, called upon other guests, invitations they had sent, whom ended up beneath the floor, broken and bent.

"Just help me, melt this gold, so I can keep better time. Or my flesh Barker will have, on which he will dine. I promise you this reward, for ages I have dwelt here, growing tired of my hoard, sending others to die for me."

For now, the dead and skinless were kept away, with his blood curdling whistle, their sticky wet bones dangling with gristle, gone for the day.

"Let's see now, you arrived on time, 11 p.m.. sharp, welcomed to a house with no reason or rhyme. By my calculations, it's been not quite an hour, for when the clock strikes midnight, it's own insides the house will devour. And here we are, safe in my room, we must finish right quick, or Barker's fang will bloom."

"Now, when I finish making this watch, " he holds up his newly crafted weapon," you take the treasure, go live your life in safe pleasure. I will return it to the seductress, the honest whore who let you in. His forlorn lover, that no one dare turn away from, he has doomed her to entice the guests in, from the house she may never run."

"I have known her since, she and Barker first met, engaged in marriage, she became pregant before they wed. He didn't believe it was his, so he took to the dark, locked himself in this room, practicing his black art. The house consumes him, or maybe it's the other way, no matter the way you slice it, if you enter, you're here to stay."

"Except for you, I have dug a tunnel. Nearly one hundred years, my own flesh ripped off from my earthly pummel." He holds the watch up after a few more dips, like he was thickening a candle, the gold now dripped. It was better than the sight of blood, so much I have seen drop, one bead at a time, as if time had stopped.

Darby, the 'chaun, gestures to where to chest of gold was buried, showing me the way out, I can see how he has grown tired and weary. 

Rising up off one knee and stepping away the fire, he pockets the watch, to finish was he has conspired. Not sure why he needed me though, until this very moment, if the house required sacrifice, then for him he must survive it.

"Ah, before you go, here one last favor, it's a trick for Barker, and requires your labor. You must bury me here, up to head, beneath the dirt, alive with the dead."

Chpt 6 ( Bury me, softly )

I was about to plant Darby, would more Leprechauns grow? He laughed knowing my thoughts, all this time I didn't know. If that was the case, then he also knew, how I couldn't let him die alone, how the clock once wound cannot be unscrewed.

"You should go," I began,  "I mean, no, I should stay. You should find the seductress, I have a feeling it was your baby. I know his name is Barker, named by his dad, you Darby."

His eyed widened, surprised and bigger; more than when we had found his treasure, for he knew I understood, he was victim of this flesh pleasure.

A golden tear cascaded down his cheek, for it was his child, under the floor boards, the guests fed. The three, a happy little bunch, locked away, built this house from their love, unwed.

So, he buried my face in dirt, I became a blood filled, body bag treasure. Soon the Barker House would suck on my bones, using them for his pleasure, to make it grow a bit stronger. For old Darby knew, I would become his next pot of gold, staying buried a little longer, until the next invitation would be sent out, demanding 11 p.m. sharp; then I would be exhumed, bright,   shiny and lighting up the dark, I sacrificed myself for the family that consumed. The next golden chest of treasure, my body would assume.

Thus, out of the fleshy room he walked,

forgetting about time, not checking his clock,

 and lilting a little poem,

 he sneered and gawked,

for in the House of Barker,

that is how the dead talked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Dr. Acula . All rights reserved.

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