Into the Darkness

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A dark night of the soul, looking into the dark places of a mind and daring to face what lurks deep within.

In the dark a cloaked man is walking with his cane clicking on the cobbles........

Beware of the dark my friends......

Warning contains strong language.

Submitted: March 11, 2008

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Submitted: March 11, 2008

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Into the darkness
 
 
 
The night envelopes all in its funeral black embrace, not for tonight the silvery moon. Not for tonight the myriad of stars to light the velvet road into the dawns sweet embrace only the infinite darkness to hold court for unsuitable suitors.
 
Only the night and the darkness I carry black leather satin and chrome judge me go on judge me. Tell me how I deserve the darkness how I deserve the Satin and Chrome. A howling judge as your carcass rots upon the stage while I sit and watch you burn again and again. Jerusalem be fucked I smashed that record long ago. No arrows of desire only the dark satanic mills exist now
 
Only the night can shroud my sullied soul, my mind a cesspit, they say I’ve come on in leaps and bounds. Patronising fuckers what do they know? Only the darkness holds enough knowledge about my past to bind me.
 
Only the night can shroud the hangman as he fumbles with the noose, a shroud funeral black upon his twisted features. How much do I weigh? You think I’m going to tell the hangman that?
 
You want to see him? Would you like to stare into the darkness? Maybe a pinhole of light would illuminate enough for you to see what it holds. Be careful what you wish for you just might get it.
 
You want to look into his eyes? Stare into nothingness? Can you stare him down? Can you put your head into the lion’s jaws and trust him not to bite you? Can you hold the paws and trust the claws to stay sheathed?
 
Only the night can embrace him. Only the night can gather round his cloak. Fire and brimstone hot upon his breath. Sulpher burns within him. They say wings are folded beneath his cloak, a fallen angel upon the foul land.
 
Only the night can appreciate his twisted elegance. His cane clicking upon the cobbles, measured paces click clack click clack click clack click clack, a death march for lost souls.
 
Maybe he should dance……….
 
“Well well well Hey Jack wanna dance?”
 
Wanna dance with the Bad Man?
 
 
“Hey about passing me over for another year?”
 
“Sure thing Jack you checked in a long time ago”
 
Come sweet death and take me dancing
I’ll wear my soft shoes out tonight
Come sweet death and take me dancing
To hear the band tonight
 
“I’m stirring my brandy with a nail boy, stirring my brandy with a nail”
 
Can you hide from Hyde? Can I hide from Hyde? Maybe Jekyll was playing hide and seek all along. Come out come out wherever you are…… 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Here I come ready or not…….
 
Maybe Hyde was more fun is that what you think, to kill without conscience or remorse “Just on a whim for a jolly Guv’nor”. Sorry that was Jack the Ripper but the principle is the same.
 
Only the darkness could hide such terrible deeds. A scream could pierce the city smog. A chance encounter in a dark alleyway, “Excuse me Sir I do beg your pardon”. Only the night could shroud a muffled thump, a dragging sound, a final gasp, a blade wiped hastily upon discarded linen.
 
“It’s just a jolly Guv’nor, will send you an ear next time just for a laugh. Good luck catching me. Yours Jack the Ripper”
 
No more, no more for the love of God no more! Long gone are the east end slums, the smog drifting across the Thames. “Cor Blimey Guv’nor it aint ‘alf a shocker!” The chimney sweep the barrow boys the starving children upon every corner, the starving match kid freezing to death in the snow at Christmas.
 
All long gone the slums long cleared the docks now silent except for the sound of money being made in obscene amounts by obscene people talking obscenely on mobile phones, talking on mobile phones, fucking over the poor working man who once tore his body apart hauling the goods into the throbbing heart of the metropolis.
 
All gone now and some say good riddance to them. The stevedores with hooks, ropes and crowbars to pound in the heads of scabs and strikebreakers, think on remember the miners?
 
Still he walks among us, still in the darkened corners of our world he walks measured paces searching for the vulnerable and the innocent. Clothed in black as my desire a valkarie rides. A daemon walks among us be still. Hush and be still he may not hear us.
 
TOO LATE IT’S MUCH TOO LATE FOR HE IS HERE.
 
 
Only the night was made to hold these thoughts. Push them down deeper in the hole. Do not look upon them; you are gentle in your innocence. May God have mercy upon their souls because he won’t.
 
Boneman 10/03/08
 
©Boneman productions 2008
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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