Sitting Duck

I set about my business. If this fucker wanted to taunt me and summon the Elohim, stupid fucker he is, then I was going to do everything in my power to stop this from happening.
I looked at the shitty-cheap photocopy, lots of symbols and ancient language… The person reading this surely wouldn’t be able to understand this, would they? I dismissed the thought as foolish, for only a fool would assume his enemy was not one step in front.
Three things were needed to summon the race of Gods and all of them were, seemingly, impossible to get. The blood of a Deity. The flesh of an Angel and finally, the soul of a Man.
The first and the last one was relatively simple, if you know what I do, it was the flesh of an Angel which was going to be tricky. They didn’t like to be found, even less so if they knew why you wanted to find them. How could this person possibly hope to accomplish this? My thoughts ricocheted around the dark box in my head. I sat back down. Blood of a Deity, that one was obvious, it was the same blood that flowed through my veins, the blood that flows through Satan, the first creation and made as an equal to God. Hopefully the person fucking with me didn’t know this…wait a minute, what did I say about fools? I heard a creak in the floor board behind me and reacted to face the intruder. I wasn’t quick enough. Something heavy crashed down on my head sending sparks across my eyes. The last thing I saw, being the sentimentalist I am, was the kind face of Father Saxon lowering me into slumber.
Darkness took me.


Game

I could not sleep. My mind buzzed constantly like a loose electrical connection. My eyes would not stay shut at night as I turned image after image over in my thoughts.
Whoever was fucking with me was good. In all my long years I don’t think I had been fucked with like this…it was exciting!
Somebody out there knew me, and I mean the real me. Also, they definitely had possession of my book. But why would they play with me and seduce me with these sadistic games?
Maybe they knew me better than I knew myself, at the time?
I felt like my limbs were fully fueled, just waiting for me to drive them on.
Two dead bodies in as little as two months and across two counties in two houses. This was no coincidence. My initial thought was the Illuminati, and that maybe they had possession of it. But the message was contradictive to that train of thought, it was showing me of the Elohim, and for that evil, they didn’t need me. Surely they didn’t mean to let that genie out of the bottle? so to speak. We would all be Donald Ducked then. No, there must be more to it than that, surely.
I got a new Maria, and when I say a “Maria” I actually mean it. A new cleaner called Maria, ha! I didn’t tell her what happened to the last one though, so shhhh…
Anarchist masks started to appear more and more. I even saw someone wearing one on Halloween! Another damned Americanism.
It looked like, for the time being, the Iron Mask had managed to quell the Illuminati influence on Britain. It looked like they had fled to the States, maybe, but maybe not.
There was too much going on for things to be as they seemed. And still I could not sleep. This was a game, of that I was certain. How did I know? That’s easy, I knew cause it was my move next.


Little Girl

There was a knock at the door. I had had my guard up ever since the incident with Maria. The locks on my doors had been upgraded to the best that money could buy. After all, what use was having vaults of gold and treasure troves to rival the monarchy, if you end up impaled on broom sticks and the electric iron burnt into your heart?
I peered through the spy hole and was pleasantly puzzled when I saw a little girl holding a white cardboard box. I presumed she must have been selling something. How wrong I was.
I opened the door, but reflexively kept one hand on the stiletto dagger tucked, discreetly, into a hidden pouch secured around my abdomen. I opened the door wide and looked down, and I was about to say something when she began to sing:

Little girls, they can easily be deceiving.
Little girls, they can be lead astray.
Little girls, may want to sell you something.
Of little girls, you will forever be afraid-

I tried to stop her, but quicker than I expected she opened the lid to the box and flashed a large silver blade across her throat. The box fell to the ground as a fine spray of blood slashed across my face. I noticed the little girls eyes scream in terror as she realised what she had done. She must have been hexed, I recognised similar incantations from within the book my…the book the Devil wrote. But the last that I saw of it…shit. What if somebody had found it? I felt a panic rising over me. The little girl had begun convulsing all over my porch. Something else was still inside the box. It looked like something I had seen before, a symbol…it was. I plucked the crudely photocopied page from inside the box and closed the door, leaving the girl to do whatever she was doing.
My worst fears had been realised, It was a symbol I remember from within the book, a symbol that headed a chapter titled ‘The Elohim’.
This was possibly the worst thing in the book. In fact it was so bad that even Satan himself did not want to summon the Elohim. I think that tells you the gravity of the situation. Now all I had to figure out was, who had it and why were they teasing me?


Spooked

Have you given your most?
Can you look yourself in the eye?
I am the streak of self pity
And I will drag you down into the bottomless.
Can you do it now?
Do you have what it takes?
I will show you what happens to fear when left to fester.
You will become everything you loathe and I will watch and laugh and cry and give.
You will crawl before yourself and bleed to me.
Drink from the peasants cup you fool.
You traitor. You fucking pathetic leech.
You will only ever take with you what you manage to break off.
Your life is formed in rock.
You belong to sorrow.
I’m going to get you…

The words had been painted and splashed across my lovely, wooden, bedroom floor. I think you can guess what they had used as paint. My cleaner had been carefully arranged to look like she was ironing. It was very clever actually! They used the broom sticks, one end drove through her feet and the other splintered through her thighs. Her abdomen was propped up with the chord from the iron, whilst the iron itself, still smouldering, had burnt into her chest and left a nice neat triangle. She was propped like an eerie manikin in a home department store.
Fucking Illuminati! They loved their symbols. I just wanted to know how they had managed to find me and just who exactly they thought they were dealing with?
Poor old Maria, I turned the iron off at the switch. My apartment was a fucking mess. And what was worse, now I would have to hire a new cleaner!!
I retrieved the sulphuric acid from the cleaning cupboard and began to fill up the bath when a creaking alerted me to the presence of something in the spare bedroom. Two things shot through my mind simultaneously. First, why did I not check the fucking spare bedroom and second, who the fuck would be so stupid? I carefully put the acid down, I didn’t want to get any of that shit on me. The creaking stopped, I strained my ears, can I hear laughing? I flipped around and sent my boot crashing into the door and took it cleanly off the hinges before stammering backward in shock. For what I saw was me, or a reflection of me anyway. In the briefest of moments I thought it was the Leviathan returned. I thought…oh I don’t know. Henry Game doesn’t get spooked, I am the one who does the fucking spooking!! But I definitely heard laughing, didn’t I? Anyway, I had to shake myself to remember, Henry Game was gone. Now I was The Anarchist. The white mask of anarchy had been left over Maria’s face as a clear message. The message was brutal and clear. It was only going to get worse, but what was more, I was kind of excited about it…


The Anarchist is Born.

image
Image courtesy of:

http://logo-kid.com/symbol-of-anarchy.htm

I could feel it rising. It started from the base of my spine and travelled through me like tiny pockets of gas passing through rock. The feeling was slow, steady and beautiful. I could feel it rising.
This is what I am good at.
The floor before me was littered with pure and unadulterated agony. Pain is magnificent, both the experience of feeling it and in its deliverance. Nothing, quite, compares.
‘At this rate there won’t be any of them left. You were supposed to leave at least one of them alive!’
I didn’t bother responding to him. The euphoric feeling inside was consuming me. Killing, to me, is the most natural thing in the world. And he was trying to bring me down. I didn’t say anything and eventually I could hear his heavy footsteps walking away. Probably to report to his master. Fool.
Grim had always been more…ahhh, reserved than myself. Maybe this is why, nah forget it! This isn’t the time.
The disfigured corpses of the congregation started to lose its beauty to me. I turned away in disgust, more with myself for ruining my moment. ‘The Illuminati’ was the new threat, and this was just a handful of them, dead in another Town Hall.
Grim had told me of the Archbishops ‘involvement’. Most of the government and especially the wealthiest of the capitalists were apart of this new world order. This spelled out trouble, and for once my feelings aligned with the Iron Mask. But I told them straight, if anyone came anywhere near me with a fucking iron-face, I would pull their fucking tongues out of their mouths and hang them with it.
I turned my back on the room and pushed the door softly too. Grim was waiting outside in one of them long black vehicles they all drove now. I jumped in and didn’t say a word as Grim tapped his huge paw on the roof of the limousine from out of the open window. The car pulled off slowly. I watched out of the back window, this was my favourite bit. The Town Hall flared up and flames licked the clear-cold-black sky. I watched the building burn until it was out of sight. Eventually I could hear the sirens of emergency ring through the night.
The Illuminati would not sleep this night, and if they did their dreams would be haunted by me. For now Henry Game had been retired. Now I went by a different title, the Illuminati needed to fear my name, the name that opposed their ideology, and rebelled in the face of regime. I became bloodedly known as The Anarchist.


Tangled Web: A Poem.

Contemptuous continuous,
when these people are malignant:
severance,              blissfully,
leaves the senses oblivious.

The web has been spun
becoming tangled inside us,
while we take it in turns playing
flies and spiders.
Hurting each other, you’re supposed to be my brother…

Content I was for the simplest,
I saw no fault in their arrogance
and pretended their attitude wasn’t
hideous.

Like a thorn in the foot of a beast, innocence looks past the teeth and see’s the thorn release! Well that was me, but now no more. I saw no fault in their ignorance and pretended their attitudes wasn’t so. It’s sad to say that I know and seen what its become, so far less than chivalrous, than our natural disposition. And the stupid thing is, I wouldn’t ever try to listen to anything different.
Contemptuous continuous. Pay no attention to the hindrance, the severance leaves the senses oblivious.


The eye of the storm

image
Image taken from:

http://thumbs.dreamstime.com

As always, everything slowed down. I imagined it like all the air and oxygen around us was suddenly replaced with water. People and things moved slower, much slower. Apart from myself, of course. If anything I moved quicker.
A slow buzz snailed past my ear. It was a mosquito mechanically lowering its legs as it came into land on its prey: the same faceless assassin I was hunting in my sights. I thought about squashing the parasite but changed my mind when I evaluated exactly how much pain and discomfort I wanted him/her/it to feel.
The dull metallic face painted a paradox on to my first victim as he had barely even begun to lift his arms in defence.
I stabbed him once in the groin with the long edge of the cross. The mask looked ready, fired up even, this guy was anything but. Grim was the first of them to react to my sudden attack. However, he had already lost one of his pawns, or was mere seconds away from doing so. The man screamed, and now I knew it was a man because men scream different to women.
I wiped the cross on my rough tunic sleeve as his noise faded into whimpers and then nothing. “One…” I sensed their fear and smiled at Grim. Time returned to normal, like it does when I’m not…killing. They all backed away as one. I spared a look for the motionless, dead, assassin to my side. The mosquito had become a smeared mass of legs and wings. ‘Pity’ I commented to myself.
‘Henry, this isn’t what we want: to go to war with you.’
‘No?’ I replied gesturing to the dead assassin by my feet.
‘I brought them in case things got tricky…you know, with the Archbishop.’
I responded by setting the cross into the palm of my hand and spearing the deadly edge out of the middle of my clenched fist. Again the line of ‘fearless, faceless agents of fate: The assassins of the Iron Mask, retreated a little further. Finally Grim stepped forward and took off his hat. I blinked in surprise. Grim was bald on top!! This was the first time I had seen his ‘new’ bald patch. I smothered a giggle. I couldn’t stop myself. This was too good! People age, even those closest with whom you have shared so many experiences. Especially those.
I felt deflated at this gesture. Grim was humbling himself before me. I relaxed my hand a little.’Tell them to piss off then…baldy’
Grim smiled up at me, hat still in hand, and I could tell that he wanted to crush me. I laughed and slid the cross into my pocket. The time for talking had returned, briefly.


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