*****This was a story I threw together as part of a writing challenge. I took titles, quotes and assorted bits from Clive Barker books and movies and arranged them into something. If you are in fact a fan of Clive Barker you no doubt will recognize the bits. If not, then you won't. Still, I am proud of the way this came out.*****
"Everything is true. God's an Astronaut. Oz is Over the Rainbow, and Midian is where the monsters live."
But at this very moment, somewhere in the Imajica, it was twilight at the towers on Jerusalem street. Tortured souls and dread all filled Coldheart Canyon at the Damnation Game. A halftime extravaganza put on by Mr. Maximillian Bacchus and his traveling circus had celebrated the inhuman condition for a great and secret show in these days of magic, nights of war. But no more teasing. It was time to play.
Scape-goats dressed in the skins of the fathers as if there were new murders in the rue morgue. Absolute midnight was approaching and it would sound like the midnight meat train were singing pig blood blues to human remains. Everyone's favorite duo of destruction, the yattering and Jack were up against Rawhead Rex, who was also known as the son of celluloid. Much like the hellbound heart versus the thief of always or the body politic in the flesh.... and the loser would be crowned Mister B. Gone. Such was how spoilers bleed.
The Madonna delivered her scarlet gospels as read from the book of blood at the Hell's event. A sacrament heralding both the life of death and the age of desire. Revelations seemed to be the last illusion. Babel's children released their Hellraiser pleas in the forbidden tongues like confessions of a pornographers shroud. Weaveworld shall now come undone.
In the hills,the cities echoed sex,death and starshine. The blood thirsty cabal licked what might have tasted like eternity but had crusted onto their once cracked lips. The throng amassed below the throne of Baphomet. Immacolata, Peloquin, Kissoon, Pie 'Oh' Pah .... even Cal Mooney was in attendance, though he kept out of site. He had been given the night off due to a string of victories and had planned to party well. The night was long and it was only going to become legendary as so many awaited their turn in the ring. An everville of foes to battle until death of some sort. There sat Jakabok Botch who would soon go up against Mamoulian, the last European. But first, from the center ring, a cry rang out.
"Down, Satan!"
Rawhead Rex gnashed it's teeth in anticipation of meat for the beast. Yattering and Jack only laughed as if to say "we'll tear your soul apart."
As the lights splashed, then flooded the arena, the crowd roared as if they were themselves blasting from a cannon. It was then that the night drew blood and the man called Decker stood outside behind a kiosk hawking damnation disguised as solace. He walked up to a young demon in a pea suit and his words joined all other legends past, present and future.
"What's your pleasure, sir?"
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