The Darkest Pits Of My Soul Pt. 2

The Brooding flames blacken my soul, the shadows are coming for me, they wish to draw me to their dark covenant and slowly rip at my soul while I slowly but eternally succumb to my darkest desires.1

The regret I feel after each deed is fleeting and hollow compared to the thrill of each dramatic deed. I see the writhing forms I laugh, I see their struggling movements, I hear their pitiful scrams each ripping me at my core, every new rip heals and I become a tool to my impulses. Then I become frenzied and my world becomes a sea of vermillion rapids.2

I come to my senses, I see the desecration surrounding me. I run through the events but my mind cannot comprehend the things I see. I raise the knife to my wrist and my hand starts to quiver with anticipation, I can’t keep from exploding from absolute glee of the incoming rush of flaming sensations about to rage through my defiled soul. I rip the knife against my skin and the darkness sprays out over the soil, taking with it the unpureness congregating through my veins, I then transcend my humanity and become a god of death! I cover my wound and flee to my black home. My home is quiet and dead, my mother is quietly watching TV waiting for the hollow knocks on the door that condemn me to the pits of hell.3

The knocks ring on the door and my mother obediently opens the door and my father walks in and with a black look sends me away to my room where I must listen to the agonizing screams of my mother as he destroys her. I hear her screams of agony rip at my soul destroying every part of me. My mind cringes at the knowledge that I was the result of this horrible practice.4

I feel the darkness manifest in me, it intensifies threatening to consume me, but I have to hold on for just a few more moments. I raise the knife to my skin preparing to release it. But I stop myself just in time. 5

I have to go through a whole hour of listening to the pain. Each new wave destroys a part of my humanity cursing me to become less composed. Then the screaming stops, I hide the knife behind me and my father walks in. I realise I’m shaking in anticipation, my father misunderstands the shakes “what’s this, are you afraid of me my son?” His voice is vile, I can’t help but outwardly cringe at the sound of his dark, horrid and echoing voice. “What’s the matter son? Cat got your tongue? I asked you a fucking question” and he hits me across the face hard, but I just take it allowing the pain to fuel the black twisting serpent choking my stricken heart, I keep my composure while he beats my face and I did not resist letting the pain funnel into the chaotic firestorm blackening my cursed soul. I taste blood in my mouth and realise that my father has stopped. I open my eyes and say “why have you stopped?” I see his face change dramatically from confidence to fear. I feel something, a thrill but different than before, I had seen fear before in the eyes of my victims and the thrill was hindered by dread. But I realise this thrill is not hindered by anything and I realise it’s time to end this.6

I look at my father intently and I speak “father what’s wrong?” He looks at my eyes and says7

“What are you?”8

“I am what you made me father” I say this in the most lost voice I can think of. Now I see real fear on his face and I can’t help but laugh with glee. My father starts moving back slowly and slowly but carefully I stalk him moving left and then right smiling menacingly gripping the knife tighter. My father seems very small at the moment, not like the scary, dark and evil being of my nightmares. My father screams at me “Get the fuck away from me you FREAK!!” I smile pleasantly and reply as quietly and politely as possible “reap what you sow father” he starts too really panic and I revel in the power I have over him. He reaches behind himself and smiles. “You know what my son, you are the product of a rape. You are an unwanted child, that’s right you wouldn’t kill the one who gave you life do you?” And he smiles evilly. I can’t help but be disgusted.9

“You’re kidding right? I would have rather you killed me as soon as I was born, it could have spared me existing with you!” He simulates shock as if he was expecting me to break at his words and he says menacingly “well I’ll just fix the problem I should’ve fixed fifteen years ago” and he swings his arm from behind him and a glass vase breaks against my left cheek and I sustain several cuts to my face. I look up and smile vilely. He realises that his “plan” didn’t work and now he really expresses fear. He quickly turns and I notice the muscles in his leg tense up and as he starts sprinting down the hall I throw myself at his leg and slice at it with my knife and the rip in his skin beckons forth a vile black surge of twisting rivers. He screams and makes one metre before he crashes to the ground, now my frenzy begins. I stab my victim in the other leg letting the blade slice through the meat straight to the bone, I then drag the knife down the leg with as much force as possible, feeling the blade grind against the bone. I pull the blade out and a sea of black erupts from the leg and I hear the incoherent screeching of the victim, I laugh at the sound it was something vile and horrid, something horrid that tortures the mind, a scream that obliterates every fabrication of the mind, that rips at the soul of everything, that echoes for centuries after the source dies away, that scars the earth, The Primeval scream. I continue to slowly torture the vile creature lying on the ground trying to resist, I drag the knife up my “plaything” ripping its skin lightly as black ooze flows from the wounds flooding the ground. It tries to attack me by swinging its arm at me pathetically, I catch it easily and put the knife down and grab the arm with both hands and I force the wrist backwards as hard as I can and I hear a gut-wrenching crack. Then I grab a finger and I put it in my mouth and close my teeth around it with extreme force, I spit out the black river and the vile tasting meat and then I grab another finger and repeat, resulting in a demonic scream from the victim. Then I move to the face and clutch bottom jaw putting my fingers in his mouth, one hand on the top jaw to pull up and one on the bottom jaw to pull down. Then I pull and I feel the cheeks rip apart. I get up and move to the pelvic area in between the legs and I raise my foot to the highest point possible and bring my foot down as hard as possible on the victims groin crushing his genitals to oblivion. This brings forth a pathetic attempt at a scream and I laugh hysterically. Then I go pick up the small thirty-four cm TV set and I go to the head of my “father” and I make sure he is still conscious and I say pleasantly “dad, I thought you loved me” Then I laughed loudly and screamed “YOU COULD’VE AT LEAST REMEMBERED WHEN I WAS BORN, I’M SIXTEEN YOU FUCKER!!!!” In that moment all the darkness and hate and pain left me and I dropped the TV set on to his face letting gravity dictate his last moments.10

I gasp, I go pick up the knife still covered liquid. I go and sit at the chair next to the radio. I stare at the blade and I feel contempt. Then I look at the radio and turn it on. It begins playing a song I know well. Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin, and I sigh with glee this is my favourite song! I then look at the knife and put it under my chin. Then I wait until the chorus and start singing with it. “Don’t Worry... Be Happy!” and I stab the blade up and smile as I feel that black abyss coming. I lie there feeling my blood flow down my hands and I smile, it’s over the constant pain is over and peace is the last thing I know,11

And as I fade into oblivion I remember my father’s face stricken with fear and I realise the four last words I ever heard apply to me dramatically “Don’t Worry... Be Happy!”12