MOGWAI’S PREAMBLE - PORTRAIT OF PERDITION

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: dreamscape
A thief wishes he hadn't stolen from the old man. A preamble from an upcoming novella. Do read the 'author's note.'

Submitted: July 25, 2019

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Submitted: July 25, 2019

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Many buildings line the streets and from many of these hang signs, rectangular, tall and narrow with characters in a peculiar language written on them. Peculiar owing that most citizens never learned Chinese.

In direct eyesight many of the denizens are busy with their business, streets full. Just standing on the pavement, one takes in the auditory and visual stimulus Chinatown laid bare. Was this old Asian man’s thing to do.

A young man pasts by, a trinket on this elderly soul ended up in his hand. His walking pace normal, further away he gets. The old man outwardly none the wiser.

Day turns to night. The Chinese style trinket rests on the dresser. He on the bed napping, a CRT TV plays. 

His face twists in response as if bothered by a sensation. He tried to shift his body for more comfort, the feeling remained. He obliged to open his eyes. The sensation was at his lower feet, already in the trinket’s mouth.

It’d grown in size greatly and the mouth gradually was in a side to side motion working up his body.

Naturally his eyes bulged.

A scream escapes his own mouth, it left the apartment yet no one responded. He struggles, arms flailing about when not hitting the tormentor.

Evermore the trinket worked, steadily engulfing. Reached the midsection. The man’s functional arms reached over to grab and smash with an alarm clock, several blows later the trinket ceased.

Breathlessly the man fidgeted to get free. The trinket moves once more the same way. The man’s very being frantic. Struggled all the harder.

Reached the chest. Out a bloodcurdling scream blasted. His body constrained in movement. Inched forward that trinket did, at the chin screamed once more, this time the noise level greatly drops as snuffed from a now completely swallowed pickpocket.

Dumpling smelled good this hour. Day had arrived.

Meters high, situated over the pedestrians and vehicles which must pass beneath, serving as town entrance, a Paifang adorned with some golden Chinese characters near its top. An honor to categorize an ornate gate. China came to America.

At a good distance the elderly man like earlier taking it in. Unseen by the masses the normal sized trinket hops along the pavement and found its way back on his person. The elder doesn’t remotely acknowledge its presence.

 

Author’s note – no stories from me in months. Was to start this new yarn but can’t step on the gas yet. Procrastinating. This short is a preamble to a novella Portrait of Perdition to follow. Mogwai is Chinese for demon. The preamble and this was going to have the name Dark Preamble – this evening checked ‘Chinese version of Satan,’ hence the name.

Thursday, 25 July 2019.


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