Bed

From the "Frightmares Collection"

Can you hear me breathing? 

The Darkness calmly said.

A Shadow clinging to the wall replied,   

Yes I hear you, loud and clear , may I join you by the bed ?

 

Swiftly and silently the Shadow flew across the room and stood by the bed.

Standing….

Breathing….

Slowly….

Silently….

With menace in his voice the Shadow spoke to the barely sleeping child 

Can you feel me touching your tiny little head ? But I will not hurt you….yet, 

I have many things to enjoy with you. 

Games to play. 

I will be back soon to see you again

Curtain flapped as if you announce its presence,  

You are cruel Shadow, can you not sense the child is scared?

I know 

Fun isn't it, to scare these poor young things when we are not able to harm them?

You should be ashamed Shadow, why do you do it ? 

I don't , they do it for themselves making scares out of nothing, to keep themselves awake

The child lay in bed in terror listening to Shadow, Darkness and Curtain as they talked to each other, only hoping they would go away so it could go to sleep.

Anyone seen Floorboard or Cobweb tonight ? Darkness asked .

I am here, creaked Floorboard as the dropping temperature made it creak even more 

Ooo that is better, nothing like a good long creak to get the children scared, he he he

Cobweb had been watching and listening to all this muttering and decided to join in the fun by dropping from the ceiling to glide effortlessly and softly onto the child's face.

A scream rent the air.

Darkness, Curtain, Shadow and Floorboard all laughed with glee as the child ran terrified from the room.

You are all too cautious dear friends, spoke Cobweb, with a smile You have to SCARE the children not cuddle them

Behind the child  the door slammed shut and all the bedroom monsters melted into the gloom to wait for her return.

Abused

Eat your greens my dear.

Had enough my dear?

Don't need to get

too fat my dear.

Now clear the plates

and wash them all,

For labour is dear

And kids are cheaper.

Sweep the house and

Clean the porch,

Hump the trash or

Feel my belt.

No need to cry

We all love you dear,

Just be our slave

and let us rest,

For grown-ups

Work hard every day,

to be a perfect parent

Your life is hard

but ours is harder

looking after you.

Now off to bed and

straight to sleep,

don't wet the bed,

because you weep.

Its all hard work

in this poor life.

We have to bear it,

so must you, as well

as beatings, to make

you cry and to know

we love you dear,

as a millstone

round our neck.

Rage on a Page II

I love cooking and good food but certain aspects of the top end of the food delivery market leaves me cold and with a great deal of concern. 

Top class food establishments are quick to promote themselves especially if they obtain that elusive Michelin accolade. 

They are not so quick to deliver the goods in terms of sustenance.

Have you ever seen the portion size that is considered correct by these food faddies? Miniscule is not even close, and for a price that brings tears to your credit card( your wallet will have skipped town long ago). Tiny morsels of meat or fish slaved over in a hells kitchen for hours to produce the most exquisite flavours -- they say; snacks messed about with to give max profit is my view(often using the now chic "cheaper" cuts like Ox or Cod cheek). 

It is no wonder that "Tasting Menus" are becoming the normal choice in such establishments - at least you do get a bit more food for your money.

Can I perhaps remind patrons and chefs alike that the restaurant is there primarily to feed people not to provide art on a plate. It is nice to have good looking food presented to you but in the end all I want to do is eat it, not hang it on a wall.

Then there is the thorny question of plates, or lack of them. So many chefs are now using boards, slates and Lord knows what to present their food on. Then the veg. come in dinky little containers often specially made at huge cost, when it would be perfectly possible to get it all on one dish. 

WHY??

Surely with the prices they charge they could afford a few nice china plates?

Ah well rant over , won't change the restaurant worldd but makes me feel better!

Bewitched By Kate Garrett --- A Review

 

Honesty, a valued commodity in these times, can be kind or cruel in its consequences.

I will be honest, Bewitched is not my usual genre but I was drawn to it by the promise of a mix of prose and poetry in the telling of the story.

I like different.

I will give time to the unusual that even just attempts to entertain, before anything else.

Bewitched does not attempt to do anything; it succeeds in every aspect, great story, well told, imaginative use of a mixture of prose and poetry to hold the reader enthralled to the very last page.

It tells the tale of Maddie, a young singer with relationship issues, a simple premise but hiding complex problems for the young woman.

Clean phrasing with good descriptions of the characters make for easy reading of an ultimately sad tale(incredible that just a name can make you hate a person before you know anything about them -- that is clever, you just know Dalton is a complete arse from the minute you read the name)

Kate Garrett obviously knows her subject well; it shows in the sharp well described sequences with minimal use of words. There is no fluff in this book, every word counts. A book that is full of emotion, honestly portrayed by a clever writer. 
On first reading I wanted more but after a second reading, Kate Garrett has proved that the book was indeed perfectly sized, hats off to you Kate.

Rating 9/10

Buy it here --  http://getbook.at/Bewitched

. 

Grip

Sweet carrion how I miss and crave,

Your soft and tender flesh,

To hang in rotting strings from fingernails,

While sinews clutter gaps between my teeth.

Pink drool exudes and runs free

Then settles in pools around my feet

Perhaps to bathe my soule

Or to cleanse my ridden mind.

Walk With Me

Now where are you?

.

Who are you?

.

Here and there but nowhere in particular,

just a being driven by vapours

and full with ill humours.

Satisfied by hunger, grief and misery

I walk amongst the weak and strong alike,

seeking out those to befriend and those to avoid.

Time has no meaning,

for one day it will cease,

then I will have an infinite span to exist in.

There will be a day when tock does not follow tick. 

There will be silence.

A silence that will engulf the world

while it waits for a tock,

which will never come;

Billions will starve just waiting,

Then I shall feast.

Happy?

We gathered all

In happy suits,

Smiling people,

all dead

Drunk.

False faces

Wishing life was true

Knowing dreams are dreams.

The future was the past,

Ingrained,

Denied,

Revived,

Made real.

Will it be twins?

Or a single scream?

To rent the mourning air,

Of a couple joined

'Till death creeps near.

As tears flow

Dirt flies

Coffin deep

Earth engaged.

Melding past,

Future,

Evermore.

Nevermore.

Dream

Swift lies the damsel down to rest,

Her eyes can hold the light no more.

She seeks the warmth of love,

An embrace to share the night.

Close tangled with another,

Is all she seeks to be.

Mythic heroes wait in line,

To warm the maidens skin.

Tall and Blond or Red and rough,

Choices that are endless.

Each will have their time tonight,

Then be gone by dawn.

Thoughts crowd a cluttered mind:

Sleep will order through the night.

Mythic Gods and creatures,

Fly with ease in dreams,

To cleanse, to simplify the day,

From foggy grey to sweet bright colours,

Each memory takes the stage

To encouraging synaptic applause.

Exeunt Misery and Pain.

Enter Peace and Calm

To rapturous acclaim,

Fun and Laughter join the group,

Easing a tortured mind

To a deep, fearless, untroubled sleep.

Another Day, Another dies

She sat perched on the chair looking slowly around the now empty room.  The bed still held the impression of where he had lain, during those past few hours that they had shared. Moments in time shared forever but now gone forever. Her gaze fell on the side table  where he had placed his glasses earlier, she exhaled and knew that they would  lie there unused and unwanted .

It had been a good day to begin with, sunny and bright but she knew something was wrong from when the first rays of day had sparkled onto the window. He was not himself, he was slow and moved in pain as though trying to walk through the harshest thicket beset with brambles. 

The day wore on and he became pale and stopped moving around, just lying on the bed with only her as company. She had felt his breath strong in the morning air but now as the afternoon light was fading his breath faded with it. Slower and slower , fainter and fainter until as the sun dropped over the horizon into the darkness of night so he faded into his own eternal darkness. A final slow exhalation and all was still. 

She checked for one final time and satisfied that his life was gone moved to the chair and sat waiting. 

Then they came. 

Banging on the door, shouting his name, then a fearful noise as the door was thrown open; she retreated to a corner of the room to allow the men, who filled the room, try to force life back into the frail body on the bed. They could never help him she knew and in time they knew this too and finally  took him away.

So, she thought, all those hours we were together were spent in love and admiration of each other but now I am alone and have but a short time to finish my task.

With a flick of her wings she flew over the myriad cases of lepidoptera that lay pinned to boards to display their beauty, to the open window and into the night towards the shimmering lights to complete her task and bring her existence to an end.

.

Knife

Part of the "Dinnertime Collection"

It was a good day for Knife for there had already been a bowel resection, an appendectomy and a laryngectomy. 

With the promise of yet another bowel resection after lunch, Knife was happy to take a break in this very busy day. Lying in the warmth of the sun, relaxing but honing the skills needed for the afternoon Knife checked that all the preparations had been made, no room for mistakes, washed, disinfected and ready for work.

Knife approached the subject and gloated at the pleasure about to flow and surge, matching the blood that was inevitable. Epidermis parted under Knifes tender touch, then dermis and the sub-cutaneous layers until the whole abdominal cavity was open from pubic bone to sternum. Blood flowed but did not obscure the odd beauty of the pulsating bowel, lying in wait for Knife. The lower bowel was gently lifted by Knife to allow better access and for Knife to cut through.

Knife withdrew, coils of intestine following , to fall onto the dirt floor where they laid steaming, bleeding and exuding. Their owner could only look in horror and terror as the young man cleaned Knife and casually walked away, putting Knife safely into his belt. 

Knife was happy, clean and warm from the blood and felt another short rest was in order before the next victim was chosen.

 .

Dross

We are the Forgotten.

We are the Missing.

We are lost,

Living in misery,

Hiding in shadows,

Always with hope,

Lest we die in desperation.

.

Once

Once I was asked a simple question, this was my reply ........

The Lord Wolfpaw and his faithful companion the Prince Darkriver put on their best armour and made ready for the trek across the barren dark wastes to search for the lair of the beast so that they might steal his magical elixir of strength and health.

Trudging through the soft snow through the dangerous streets of Grim City they were aware of eyes watching them

“Take care" the great Lord told Darkriver "there are wastrels and wild dogs abroad"

Any dogs that barked were soon dispatched by a look from Wolfpaw and if that was not enough his sword spoke for him.

For many hours they walked, until at last they could see marks of the beast.

"We must be careful now He is close” spoke Wolfpaw

Slowly they approached the Beasts lair and entered.

The overpowering smell made them both gag.

"Darkriver do you have the bait?”

The young lad handed the meat to Wolfpaw, who set it on the floor

"If he wakes, that will keep him busy while we search for his magic elixir" said Wolfpaw

Patiently they both searched the lair until buried deep in a chest Darkriver found a flask containing a white fluid.

"Is this it?”

"Good lad, it is. Now let us go before the beast wakes"

They both crept stealthily from the lair and started the long journey home.

Much later Wolfpaw and Darkriver returned to the safety of Wolfpaw’s castle proud in the knowledge that they had outwitted the Beast and that all the people would benefit from using the elixir to gain strength and health over the coming dark days.

Oh, the question? "Have you fed the cat and got the milk?"

Foreign Fields

Tears

The sweetness dripped from her eyes like golden nectar, each drop reflecting her sorrow as it fell to the floor. A solitary tear, made golden in the late evening light by a dying sun, dropped from her cheek to land on her thigh, breaking into a hundred pieces matching the feelings in her heart. Teardrop rain mingled with blood stains on her thigh making them fluid once more, to run even further from her. 

Caerwen had just gone to her chamber that night when she felt the warm trickle. Without warning she was bathed in blood as her future flooded from her onto the floor. She knew it had been written in the books that she would never have issue but this had been dismissed as witchery, until tonight.

Sobbing she laid herself on the floor to gaze at what remained of her dream. Reality told her this was just blood and matter but she knew the truth, this was her future, her child that would never be. Sorrow turned to anger and rage, Caerwen rose from the floor and screamed "People will die for this deed of Megan's, her witchery will no longer see the sun again"

So war was waged, sword against sorcery, light versus dark to achieve nothing but sorrow and death. Princes died with paupers both now equal before their God as did Caerwen screaming just one word as she was slain "Gatto-nero !!"

The Crusted Plain

 

 

A vile wind drove its teeth into me like razors, a cold evil wind blowing from the east.. I wrapped my cloak tighter around myself and surveyed the plain. A plain stretched before me, crusted with blood and the dead and dying. 

Where was the sanity that could have stopped this ? 

Where was just an ounce of humanity that could have saved just one poor soul?  

Mist was gathering, as though wraiths were collecting souls to guide them to heaven or hell. We hope that our God brings our Death swiftly but the Devil takes his time and pleasure in our suffering. This was not a war of people but of creatures hungry for blood, they had bathed in Hell and taken its waters to do their vile deeds. The food was fear, their prize was blood and death with corpses gathered like badges to adorn their scrawny frames as they wrought destruction on an epic scale.

Madness had descended on earth this day, a war no one wanted or could win. The smell is what remains in mind of this awful day, blood , faeces, rotting flesh, a memory you will never erase. What were once people were now no more than proteins dissolving into the earth, nevermore to be or be loved or held but it is the ethereal love that keeps them in your heart, to be there forever as they were, not as they are. 

I walked the plain looking for a signs of hope but there were none. A sparkle caught my eye, it was the merest hint of light on this desolate place. My feet followed my eyes until my eyes were filled with tears. In all this horror, amongst all these people, Death could not be lax for once and miss just one, this special one. 

No, Death was perfection itself, it took all that was precious to those that remained. 

Grey mud covered her face mixed with blood but it was her, the charm she wore confirmed it. I knelt at her side and wished, nay urged, that Death should take me too and save me from what must be done. I called for help but there was none, so alone I gathered her to me and lifted her into my arms and walked from the plain. 

Day and night I walked not knowing any fear just hatred and loathing until her home was reached. 

Rites were said and she was laid to ground and I was left alone to grieve and to make my own pact with the warmongers and the Devil. I was not to know that it was I that would suffer not from them, but from memories, for that is how they work by mining into your sanity and destroying you from within. 

The mind is a craggy place full of awful places and dangerous crossings, but when you try to cross the abyss, you will fall for certainty into that deep, dark, bottomless pit from which there is no return. The ethers that inhabit there will not allow escape, save you take them with you. Be wary where you tread in that deep and dire place, many have gone there and never returned with their sanity intact…..I did not.

 

Cavaliere Gatto-Nero

 

Glade

The sun broke through the leafy canopy to warm the forest floor , bringing life and sound to the morning. A symphony of noise broke through the quiet calm of dawn, plants rustled and grew, leaves marched before the morning breeze in serried ranks as if they strode to war. Beneath the leaf mould creatures scurried around in search of food, insects, mammals and more......

In the mill house  Gatto-Nero stretched to relieve the mourning stiffness, then glanced across the bed to where Caewen used to lie. It had been many months since she had been taken from him but the tears flowed each day like the stream that ran from the mill pond, it was a certainty of life. Gatto inhaled the musty air as he rose from his bed and walked to the window, there was a new scent in the air, one he had not noticed before, feral, wild, ancient.

In the time since Caewen had died, Gatto had turned to alchemy and majicks to find a way to be with his one soulmate, either by her return from the Farside or for his journey to it. Every attempt had failed, whether it was his lack of knowledge or if it was not possible Gatto did not know but still he tried. Last evening as the sun dropped to sleep and the moon woke he had tried one potion that many had told him was the solution to his search, but it had smelled too vile to drink and had been left on the table at his bedside. Now it was empty

The glade in which the Mill stood was or appeared to be the same, it was just the smell that was different. A smell that told of foreboding, bad times and change.

Leaving the Mill, Gatto walked around the glade trying to pinpoint the new scent. There was no distinct area where it was strong just an overall odour that pervaded the whole glade, it was as though the glade was changing.

Sensing something Gatto turned around, expecting to confront either a person or animal, it felt to him as though he was being watched, but all he could see were his footprints, black footprints in the leaf mould. He crouched to look closer and saw that each footprint had been burnt into the leaf mould as though by a hot iron….they were also warm to the touch. Picking up the burnt and singed leaves a scent rose and it was THAT scent, holding the leaves closer Gatto found the scent was no stronger, it was just all around. Slowly Gatto realised that he was the source of the scent, he was not afraid but happy and he smiled.

The early morning light shimmered in the glade, it fell onto Gatto and he faded, losing structure until he was a memory leaving only the scent behind, the scent of the Farside.