Sunday, October 16, 2011

Catacombs of Chaos

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Catacombs of Chaos


As I rest in the catacombs of my own soul, suffering and disease envelope me. As the rain pierces through the atmosphere, it is as though Satan’s wrath is being unleashed upon humanity. Our pistols positioned towards the scourge of the human race, every breath we take includes the spores of their infection, which sicken us. The everlasting war between our ancestors’ fuels worldwide chaos and vengeance is wearing us thin. Just as clockwork does the sun, the screams of humanity begin once again. A legend reveals the tale of Apollyon, a valiant angel of the Almighty who was drawn into Satan’s web against his will. Apollyon was said to be at the foot of the cross when Christ was crucified, begging for mercy. Like Apollyon, I fear that my soul is as black as death and that I have been seduced by the vengeance and revulsion of war. The screams of women and children encircle my contiousness while I remain silent and justify their deaths over centuries of futile feuds which I have no remorse towards.


As if instantaneously I awoke to the sweet melody of a young lass, not even nearly the age of 4. Her innocence struck me senseless, the acid now churning in my stomach had erupted a vile stench emanating from my mouth. Not even this could ruin the divine smell of her purity and angelic presence. Her songs where that of rhythmic repetition which found me anticipating and yearning for every word which escaped from her mouth, even though I had heard them many times over. Around me, the sounds of words so cursed they would make your blood run cold, evaporated into the night air as they floated to the heavens to continue their damage. All the while, the young child as if not capable of hearing these blasphemous blunders; continued her tune as precisely and captivating as a songbird. All while speaking so softly as to nurture each syllable. I wish I could go and speak to the little one, even though emerging onto the battle field would prove to be a suicidal attempt. The young child seems unscathed and unnoticed in the darkness of night, even though such hell is so predominant around her.


In an instant, my soul has once again been pierced by the actions of humanity. The single bullet echoed as it streaked across the heavens when upon impact my spirit screamed in remorse. My heart as if in remembrance skipped a beat at the loss of the innocent angel whom had brought me to salvation. The inner remorse is unbearable and my entire body aches at the sight of her lifeless shell, while Satan once again rears his grasp on my body. I erupted in a fury of madness as I swung around knocking my companion to the dirt, all the while screaming obscenities and madness over my loss. The mere thought of the enemy now being my most trusted friend and brother made my stomach’s substance explode onto the battle field. As if concurrently, I steadied my pistol and my blood ran black. As I stood hunched over his vile body, I despised him for his actions; he had murdered a child whom was unaware of the war around her. All she had known was a message of love and her heavenly verses.


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As I stand here for what seems like an eternity, my fingers aching and the veins in my hands which serve as channels for the black blood; feel as though they are going to explode exposing my dark nature to the world. Suddenly as if a miraculous message swept over me, I no longer ached for the vengeance which consumed so many. I was now utterly enveloped by sadness over the lives I had taken, the obscenities so cursed and my existence which revealed little hope. As I fell to the dirt, in defeat and remorse, the resonance of a pellet ripped through the air, which turned chaos into silence.





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