Friday, September 2, 2011

Iota Introduction

Sleep had encapsulated Rhom for only three hours before unexpectedly receiving the order to immediately evacuate the premises.  Rather unfortunately for Rhom, he wouldn't be doing so tonight.  Sedating tendrils instantly released Rhom's body only for him to be bombarded by relentless chaotic whispering.  It was a whispering that came from nowhere and everywhere at once.  Unnerving tongues at first, they would soon become a tumultuous aural blitzkrieg and it was all too familiar to Rhom.

The vast majority of the world's population is ill equipped to comprehend, let alone defend against a salvo of this magnitude.  Although, there isn't very much that can be done at all in the midst of such extreme discord.  As soon as it is upon you petrification sets in.  Sheer terror pushes the body to the point of immobility.  In terms of science this is generally considered to be a manifestation of sleep paralysis.  Rhom knows from years of experience that this is only a half truth. 

He knew from the instant of his release from rest to brace himself and maintain quiet in his mind; it was all that could be done.  The voices grew increasingly violent as Rhom suppressed intense primal dread.  This innate fear had nothing to do with being robbed of his body and confined to his mind but the very sound of the murmurings themselves.  They possessed an unmistakable otherworldly timbre, an eldritch facet that few can distinguish.  It can be found in innumerable other parts of the human experience but is obvious in these raucous assaults. 

A rumbling began to swell from beyond the harsh whispers.  It was a distending gray static, maddening in its increasing intensity.  Rhom centered himself as a thin streak of blood from his ear met his pillow.  His head throbbed with pain worse than last time.  It was now upon him in full force.  Cacophony. 

And then it was gone.  A sharp pain in his hand jolted up his left arm.  He clutched in his hand an old pocket watch, a gift received many years ago from his grandfather.  Its unfaltering ticking soothed Rhom's shaken nerves.  The attack had felt like several hours, but he knew that was never the case.  He opened his hand to find a small bloody gash in his palm.  The glass covering the watch's face had shattered but it still functioned properly.  "Five fifteen?" he muttered hopelessly, becoming quickly mired by exhaustion for the third time of the night.  "Just four hours now before it all begins and I can be rid of this curse," he said dreamily.  Sleep had returned swiftly to embrace him.

"Their power and cunning improve with worrying speed.  Our cause may soon be forever lost."

Thursday, February 10, 2011

These must be


For the prosperity of your god.

Thursday, January 27, 2011


Insurmountable and pure
     (a festering rage)
Vehement and searing
     (this malevolence profound)
Unrelenting and pervasive
     (abhorrence of the wicked)
Maddening and calamitous
     (in umbral vision)
Focused and unabashed
     (in denouncing the hypocrite)
Malign and glacial
     (unbridled barbarism)
Invigorating yet draining
     (to bestow glorious nihility)

Sunday, January 2, 2011

An Awful Realization

The sepulchral mind exists purely through the constant necessity of reactionary observation, analysis, and testing.  Subjects include but are not limited to adders, bulls, hyenas, pigs, sheep, sloths, and wolves.  Unsurprisingly, all subjects fail on a consistent basis.  Experiments - the basis for which lies in the alarming lack of like-minded beings - vary in complexity.  Even in the simplest of trials the results remain bafflingly abhorrent.  Neither rational nor empirical thought manifests in these creatures.  The only conclusion that can be drawn is that there is an expanding inauspicious intellectual void; making way for the final collapse.  The impact of the sheer monotony and disappointment of this testing is that of pessimism and near misanthropy.

Monday, December 6, 2010

The Shaman

Basking in the apocalyptic glow
The man gazes with calm eyes
The soothing light brings only harmony
The dark abyss behind him
The orange desolation before him
He sits upon their seamless nexus
Human thought does not float in his mind
The inescapable dialect of existence
The unspoken mother tongue of the universe
This is all he understands

Man's Mirror

Falling through the deep abyss
I've learned not a single thing
Of heaven, hell or in between
This subject will remain the same forevermore

Nothingness will not be filled
Never will any shroud of light clothe me
There shall be no repentance of my sins
Let the lions tear me asunder

Peace is as elusive as perfection
Sanity, a mere state of false sentience
The birth of my flaws are of no concern
The symbiont is a master of deception

The fabric of one's existence is illusion
Reality is but the distorted perception of oblivion
Interpretation is only futility's clever pseudonym
The chimera merely devours what never was

The conjoined twins taunt me as I go
I've known them for all of what I know as my mortal life
Never would I have expected the treachery they possess
Nor could I have deduced the source of their wickedness

A Brief Uproar, Sans Etiquette

Pitter patter in the attic
Hardly even noticeable
But why take a chance
You're an aspiring exterminator

Almost certain it's taken care of
Without even realizing the situation
Refusing to believe the circumstances
You add villains ad absurdum

Solace becomes an illusion
Always a few mere millimeters away
Can't reach so what's left to do
Commit yourself to insane acts

Can't stand it any longer
Nothing extinguishes the nuisances
For power over annoyance you vie
Cutting the power chord is the answer

Ice Over Fire

There's a long cable over here.  As a matter of fact, it's longer than most. Sometimes it's neatly coiled and others it's strewn all about. Temperature is to blame for this. As with most things, this cable expands and contracts with changes in temperature. When it contracts, it's more often than not at a highly accelerated rate. On the other hand, expansion is a much more stubborn process. It should also be noted that the cable tends to defy the laws of physics in that it contracts in the heat and expands in the cold.

Typically, the weather is rather chilly. Every once in a while there are sudden heat waves. Because it rapidly contracts in the sweltering air, it can become dangerously short. It often becomes so hot in so short a period of time that the end of the cable ignites (nearby flash fires can also be a cause for ignition). The combination of the burning end and general diminishing of length from heat can in some instances cause the cable to nearly disappear entirely. Fortunately as long as there isn't a continuous flow of oxygen, within hours the hellish climate wanes. Over night the icy winds will blow in and give the cable a light dusting of snow, restoring a thin layer of frost to the surface as it expands.

Does the cable ever expand so much that it makes up for the length that's been reduced to ashes? Perhaps and perhaps not. It's difficult to tell. What is also a curious matter is what lies at the other end of the cable. The end itself is covered in a thick fog. Anyone who dares to see beyond the shrouding tendrils inevitably fails, a snippet of their own cable clipped off as well. The haze conceals one of two things. The first, a device that triggers an infinitely vehement and devastating depth charge. The second, the complete absence of any substance. No matter how much the cable and the black powder it conceals is analyzed, it is impossible to tell what waits within the murky nebula or whether it will ever be uncovered. Let's just hope that the cable remains neatly coiled for longer than it is strewn about.