June 16, 2016 9:26 am
By

Nothing out of the usual.

Just a normal day. The sun shone brightly

And work was a droll. A long, tedious droll

That lasted all the day, and happened well into

Entreating your evening plans of drugs and drinking.

But it’s money.

“You were working with your dad,

Pretending to be an Electrician, fiddling with wires, playing with switches

And making the Happy Home-owners feel dumb or content for their

Dumbfounded electrical needs.

“And who could forget good ole Mrs Jane. The Widow, you know

We installed some recessed cans, and under-counter lights for her.

In her new apartment.

In that new apartment complex.

In Raleigh, you remember?  Just off South Saunders and on Carolina Pines, right before it turned into Granite St.

Yeah, that lady.  You remember, the monotonous nuisance.

She just moved into that new apartment complex you had done some work for Ms Calthorne in.

She was purdy.

You always liked going there, and seeing Ms Calthorne!

Down the hall, to the left, just before the complex communal (but not exclusive) rest-rooms.

 

“Well, it was after hours and for some reason Mrs Jane, the widow,

Liked it that way and had to have it that way.  I guess being the land-lord that was her thing.

And doing work for people in complexes, the drill is toilsome, and mundane, and the day just needs to end already.

“Shit, you had to use the bath-room.  I told you coffee was a terrible thing to drink before late-night shift. ‘Christ, huff some ‘caine or something,’ I said. ‘Just no liquids.’  We have to have security at the late-hours. Yet for some-reason the tenants don’t.  I don’t know them.  They’re belongings don’t matter to me.

What I get paid matters to me.  I know you understand that one!

“SO I said, ‘Alright, go on, I got this it’s no problem.’ And, while you were gone, me and your dad worked. In silence.  And if you remember:

 

‘You walked down the hall, and it was oddly more long than you remembered.  But that’s alright, you can hold it still. Still.  160A, 160B, 160C, you passed the whole first floor

Because Mrs Jane was so fortunate and convenient to set herself at the opposite end of the communal rest-room and her being a real widower prick, well, only George’s throne that is!

‘Too many fucking cages in this place.  Humans fucking hide behind here.  And they will pay anything for a place to stay, and hide.  They will fucking pay anything just to have privacy, a pillow, a cushion for their ass, and a beer.  Humans are fucking pathetic, with their terms and conditions.”

‘And finally, after snarling at every single of the A,B,C’s thrice times too many, there is the uni-sexually and family based sign of white figures on blue tile, like you didn’t know what a toilet looked like, and don’t forget the braille, just in-case you may be blind.

‘Ms Calthrone’s door is right fucking there, to the left, the last on the left by the communal rest-rooms, and she’s purdy.  

You wonder if she’s home.  

You wonder, ‘Yeah, she might need some help.  It’s been a while since she has needed any help, and she’s purdy.  I know she wants a peep at me.’ But nah,

you gotta piss.

‘As you go to open the door for the bath-room,

your heart jumped through your ribs and ached your chest muscles for excitement!

Ms Calthorne’s door just creaked.  

And it continued to creak open, ever-so-slowly.  With a long, grueling

creeeaaaaakkkk,

like damn.  This is a horror all of a sudden,

or, and even better, Ms Calthrone is a total erotic and mysterious nympho.  

Fuck the door-knob to the bath-room, you forgot to piss.  

No need to piss now, there are better secretions about to go-down.

‘It’s all dark in Ms Calthorne’s place, not a light shone through

Not even from the street-lights out-side, and it won’t take long.

A piss could have turned into a shit.

And a shit could have turned into a complicated

SHIT

So just go with it.

‘The door creaked open

And there was not a light to be seen

And there was not a sound to be heard

And there was a ringing in your ears

From all light, sound, and mortal existence in the area ceased and you were left in utter darkness and utter deepening darkness and your heart-raced for Ms Calthorne, she had to be there but the suspense

Of it all just left you too anxious and your heart was in your throat and you thought you would vomit it

Just merely from excitement for that hot-broad, and damn you still had to piss, so your bladder

was killing ya, and and you couldn’t hear anything.

Damn it was like getting drunk for the first time and fucking for the first time

‘And out of that darkness there only came a deep, soggy howl

Like Ole Muddy come to seize the day, the roar of a thousand demons..

And everything bad you ever done to anyone, and every harkening, thrilling, good, bad, ugly, bold moment in your life crashed into a deep oblivion

Of sorrow, of woe.

OF absolute heart-break, and mental ache.

The growl sputtled and gurgled

As Satan could sing!

And the end of the growl was even worse than the beginning!

You heard it!

The wail of witches, and innocent lives being burned at the stake

And tortured, and flogged.

Abandoned infants wishing for a Mother’s Love.

Lost and cold, and sad, and innocent.

The wail.

God! You nearly vomited! Your guts, your heart, your throat.

And you forgot to piss.

SO you ran.

You ran fast and you ran hard.

Through no-where and nothing you ran as fast as you could

With no-where to go, 160A, 160B, 160C, 161A…

161B, 161A, 169D, 161A, 161B

 

‘The hall-way kept going on and on and ong an gong.’

“Then you found yourself with your dad, and me, and we were walking to the van.

The moon flooded the grown, and hardly dusted the sky but had help from the billions of stars to light up the night..

And you were startled, I could tell.  Really shaken and gasping.

Your dad asked, ‘Where were you? We nearly worked an hour! Did you fall in or something?’

All you said was that you noticed Ms Calthorne’s apartment had seemed abandoned, and then asked hadn’t you and him done work there not long ago.

“And then your dad replied, ‘Yeah, I guess they must’ve found the body in the river.’

But there was no river.  This was the sand hills and no matter where you are

There isn’t a creek, even, for miles, let alone a river.  But I noticed you didn’t think much of it and took it as it was, which was peculiar to me.  And I didn’t understand it then.

 

“We drove home, in the usual charade, you never speaking anything.

Me and your dad usually talking the whole time though I never really speak.

“And you arrived at your dad’s and you took your tools

And you proceeded to your Jeep, and you tossed the tools in

And you got into your seat.  You plugged-in your audio-tape

And you cranked the SUV.

And then you drove home.

 

‘You got out of your Jeep, and you did not skip a beat with your usual routine.

You went in, you fed the dog.

You ate a little bite yourself, you went upstairs to your room

You smoked a bowl. You had some of the wine too, stashed away.

You gathered some clothes, and you went to the bath-room.

‘The water coursed down your spine and through your hair, and it tingled as it beat against

Your flesh.  If only she was there, Ms Good-God-Damn Betty-Calthrone!  And her hands coursing you with the hot water. She bathed you.

‘You turned the water off,

Dried off.

And got dressed, then went back downstairs.

The dog had eaten all her goods, and surely she had to go.

So you let her out-side, let her do her business, and you did yours

By repeating Ye Olde Trick of bongery and shottery.’

 

“Then I remember you talking to yourself for a while, down-stairs in the kitchen.

And laughing at yourself; having a good-ole-time.

Then you would get on a hefty subject then interject yourself with things you had to say to yourself about everything and anything and never getting to the point.

I found you quite monotonous, and irritable.  

But you still interested me.

‘You let the dog in. And decided it a good idea, on a work night, when you have to be up at 6, and it is 12, already, damn, to take another shot, or two,

Or three.  There was no need to keep count, you were on fire!

“Then you sacked.  You sacked hard, and you snored.

And you had a very restless slumber.  

I guess you could feel me watching you, and could see me in your dreams.

You talked to me, though probably don’t remember.  

You asked me to stop, I said I wouldn’t.

You asked why, I said I couldn’t.

You asked for at what cost.

I told you your soul

And you agreed.

 

‘Though you probably don’t remember it

It was 3AM when you saw me, 9PM when you heard me.

‘In your dream you were working with your dad,

Pretending to be an Electrician, fiddling with wires, playing with switches

And making the Happy Home-owners feel dumb or content for their

Dumbfounded electrical needs.

“And who could forget good ole Mrs Jane. The Widow, you know

We installed some recessed cans, and under-counter lights for her.

In her new apartment.

In that new apartment complex.

In Raleigh, you remember?  Just off South Saunders and on Carolina Pines, just before it turned into Granite St.

Yeah, that lady.  You remember, the monotonous nuisance.

She just moved into that new apartment complex you did some work for Ms Calthorne in.

She was purdy.

You always liked going there, and seeing Ms Calthorne!

Down the hall, to the left, just before the complex communal (but not exclusive) rest-rooms.

 

“Well, it was after hours and for some reason Mrs Jane, the widow,

Liked it that way and had to have it that way.  I guess being the land-lord that was her thing.

And doing work for people in complexes, the drill is toilsome, and mundane, and the day just needs to end already.

Shit, you had to use the bath-room.  I told you coffee was a terrible thing to drink before late-night work. ‘Christ, huff some ‘caine or something,’ I said. ‘Just no liquids.’  We have to have security at the late-hours. Yet for some-reason the tenants don’t.  I don’t know them.  They’re belongings don’t matter to me.

What I get paid matters to me.  I know you understand that one!

 

“SO I said, ‘Alright, go on, I got this it’s no problem.’ And, while you were gone, me and your dad worked together. In silence.  And if you remember:

 

‘You walked down the hall, and it was oddly more long than you remembered.  But that’s alright, you can hold it still. Still.  160A, 160B, 160C, 161A… you passed the whole first floor

Because Mrs Jane was so fortunate and convenient to set herself at the opposite end of the communal rest-room and her being a real widower prick, well, only George’s throne that is!

‘Too many fucking cages in this place.  Humans fucking hide behind here.  And they will pay anything for a place to stay.  They will fucking pay anything just to have privacy, a pillow, a cushion for their ass, and a beer.  Humans are fucking pathetic, with their terms and conditions.”

‘And finally, after snarling at every single of the A,B,C’s thrice times too many, there is the uni-sexually and family based sign of white figures on blue tile, like you didn’t know what a toilet looked like, and don’t forget the braille, just in-case you may be blind.

‘Ms Calthrone’s door is right fucking there, to the left, the last on the left by the communal rest-rooms, and she’s purdy.  

You wonder if she’s home.  

You wonder, ‘Yeah, she might need some help.  It’s been awhile since she has needed any help, and she’s purdy.  I know she wants a peep at me.’ But nah,

you gotta piss.

‘As you go to open the door for the bath-room,

your heart jumped through your ribs and ached your chest muscles for excitement!

Ms Calthornes door just creaked.  

And it continued to creak open, every-so-slowly.  With a long, grueling

creeeaaaaakkkk,

like damn.  This is a horror all of a sudden,

or, and even better, Ms Calthrone is a total erotic and mysterious nympho.  

Fuck the door-knob to bath-room, you forgot to piss.  

No need to piss now, there are better secretions about to go-down.

‘It’s all dark in Ms Calthorne’s place, not a light shone through

Not even from the street-lights out-side, and it won’t take long.

A piss could have turned into a shit.

And a shit could have turned into a complicated

SHIT

So just go with it.

 

‘The door creaked open

And there was not a light to be seen,

And there was not a sound to be heard,

And there was a ringing in your ears

From all light, sound, and mortal existence in the area ceased and you were left in utter darkness and utter deepening darkness and your heart-raced for Ms Calthorne, she had to be there but the suspense

Of it all just left you too anxious and your heart was in your throat and you thought you would vomit it

Just merely from excitement for that hot-broad, and damn you stilll had to piss, so your bladder

was killing ya, and and you couldn’t hear anything.

Damn it was like getting drunk for the first time and fucking for the first time

‘And out of that darkness there only came a deep, soggy howl

Like Ole Muddy come to seize the day, the roar of a thousand demons..

And everything bad you ever did to anyone, and every harkening, thrilling, good, bad, ugly, bold moment in your life crashed into a deep oblivion

Of sorrow, of woe.

OF absolute heart-break, and mental ache.

The growl sputtled and gurgled

If Satan could sing!

And the end of the growl was even worse than the beginning!

You heard it!

The wail of witches, and innocent lives being burned at the stake

And tortured, and flogged.

Abandoned infants wishing for a Mother’s Love.

Lost and cold, and sad, and innocent.

The wail.

God! You nearly vomited! Your guts, your heart, your throat.

And you forgot to piss.

SO you ran.

You ran fast and you ran hard.

Through no-where and nothing you ran as fast as you could

With no-where to go, 160A, 160B, 160C, 161A…

161B, 161A, 169D, 161A, 161B

 

‘The hall-way kept going on and on and ong and gong.’

“Then you found yourself with your dad, and me, and we were walking to the van.

The moon flooded the grown, and hardly dusted the sky but had help from the billions of stars.

And you were startled, I could tell.  Really shaken and gasping.

Your dad asked, ‘Where were you? We nearly worked an hour! Did you fall in or something?’

All you said was that you noticed Ms Calthorne’s apartment had seemed abandoned, and then asked hadn’t you and him done work there not long ago.

“And then your dad replied, ‘Yeah, I guess they must’ve found the body in the river.’

But there was no river.  This was the sand hills and no matter where you are

There isn’t a creek, even, for miles, let alone a river.  But I noticed you didn’t think much of it and took it as it was, which was peculiar to me.  And I didn’t understand it then.

“Then we drove home, in the usual charade, you never speaking anything.

Me and your dad usually talking the whole time though I never really speak.

“And you arrived at your dad’s and you took your tools

And you proceeded to your Jeep, and you tossed the tools in

And you got into your seat.  You plugged-in your audio-tape

And you cranked the car.

And then you drove home.

 

‘You got out of your Jeep, and you did not skip a beat with your usual routine.

You went in, you let the dog out

You ate a little bite yourself, you went upstairs to your room

You smoked a bowl. you had some of the wine to stashed away

You gathered some clothes, and you went to the bath-room.

‘The water coursed down your spine and through your hair, and it tingled as it beat against

Your flesh.  If only she was there, Ms Good-God-Damn Betty-Calthrone!  And her hands coursing you with the hot water. She bathed you.

‘You turned the water off,

Dried off.

And got dressed, then went back downstairs.

The dog had eaten all her goods, and surely she had to go.

So you let her out-side, let her do her business, and you did yours

By repeating Ye Olde Trick of bongery and shottery.’

 

“Then I remember you talking to yourself for a while, down-stairs in the kitchen.

And laughing at yourself; having a good-ole-time.

Then you would get on a hefty subject then interject yourself with things you had to say to yourself about everything and anything and never getting to the point.

I found you quite monotonous, and irritable.  

But you still interested me.

‘You let the dog in. And decided it a good idea, on a work night, when you have to be up at 6, and it is 12, already, damn, to take another shot, or two,

Or three.  There was no need to keep count, you were on fire!

“Then you sacked.  You sacked hard, and you snored.

And you had a very restless slumber.  

I guess you could feel me watching you, and could see me in your dreams.

You talked to me, though probably don’t remember.  

You asked me to stop, I said I wouldn’t.

I asked why, I said I couldn’t.

You asked for at what cost.

I told you your soul

And you agreed.

 

“And as you slept and as you dreamed you felt a hand.

You were sleeping and could feel the nape of your neck being stroked,

a numbing, tantalizing and too relaxing stroke of finger-tips gently lavishing your nape with kisses.

And you said, in your sleep, you thought it was you.

Maybe you were having a sexual dream.

Maybe you were dreaming of that girl you know.

Maybe you were thinking of a new armour upgrade.

Maybe you were thinking about that grill

Maybe you were thinking about some erotic scene with a tank of gasoline and a grill, playing pool-boy and there was Ms Calthorne, in her own place.  With a well-lit home, and a nice back-yard.  And a cement-pond to swim in, and you were not only her Electrician but also her pool-boy!

“And then the tingling residuals woke you in a gasp.

It was 3:02AM, you looked at the cable box.

You were pretty drowsy, it was 3AM, and you had been drinking.

And you were aware of your arm around your chest

And you were aware you had another unaccounted for, and so you assumed

That was the one fondling your napery

And so you looked over your left shoulder and saw that arm

laid out to your left, just as content and asleep, with your dog on it.

Alright fine, you’re drowsy.

“So I touch you.

And with-out skipping-a-beat you look behind you and you see it for a glimpse.

a mere second but enough to recall

the oddly placed but for some odd-reason ominous

Ghost hand, grey and putrid, peeling and blackened age-spots slightly oozing,

whiz grotesquely and in utterly inhuman fashion right back under your bed, and the dog leaves.

Your dog will not stay on that bed for the rest of the night.

She knows me.

 

‘You go back to sleep, or, go back to sleep

And you cannot stand the hand any longer.

You jump from your bed, and your back is cringing because you know that hand is behind you

Ready to fucking grasp at you and you don’t know what or to whom it belongs to and you are not about to find out.

But you can feel it.  It doesn’t have eyes but you can feel that hand close to your nape

And whatever holds it does have eyes and you are not looking.

DO NOT LOOK.

‘You rush out of your room and you snatch-up your dog by her collar, and you dart to your parents’ room and you

See me.  The lights are quivering, like a dead hospital and the noxious throb of your heart is in your throat again, and it hurts.  It is making your throat hurt, like eating razour-blades for breakfast.

‘You beat down your parents’ door, and their room is pitch-black.  

But you can still see them groggily awaking to your clamour and your yipping mutt.

And they fucking flip, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!!”

‘You rushed to your mother in hysteria, throwing down your dog, on accident, and in distraught.

You tell her there is something going on in this house

And that you must leave.

But they have been living here for years.

And there is nothing wrong.

So just go back to bed.

There is nothing wrong.

 

‘And then you tell them more of the truth,

You tell them you can sense dead people all around this house.

And that you have an ability, out of no-where you finally know it

And I don’t like it. Not one bit.  Human.

You can move things with your mind, and you can finally sense me.

And that will not go unnoticed.

 

‘But as you walked into your parent’s room

Your mother had a lamp on her dresser, you remember, the touch-sensoured one.

And as you walked in, the room was alighted by that lamp

and as you approached your mother

The Lamp Grew More Bright.

The lamp could have blown at the lumens it was producing!

If it was a kettle, the whistle would have been deafening!

And then it went out.

The lamp went out

As you told your mother

You all had to leave.

I have to keep you here.’

 

“I tossed the lamp at your mother but you had already learned.

You knew me, and I knew you,

And you knew you could use your mind against me.

You stopped the lamp in the air just before your mother’s face got blasted with 120 volts and shattered glass, mutilating everything you ever knew so sweetly.  So caringly; so lovingly.

You fucking stopped it with your hands but never touched it and you pitched it out the room and cried to your mother.

“But she never understood.  She never got, and neither did your step-dad, that you all had to leave.  That I would kill you.  I want to.  

And you will not go unnoticed.

 

“You angered me, fighting back like you did, and so I pitched that lamp

Again.  At your mother.  You were fresh, green, you still used your hands.

It was a beautiful shot.  I had it all the way, right to her beautifully aged and experience worn face and grey hair, all comforted in her evening gown and you in hysterics trying to protect her.  It was beautiful.

But you caught the lamp this time.  You stopped the lamp with your mortal bonds.

Strike one for you.

The next few

Will be less pleasant, too.

And you angered me,

And you heard the roar,

from within your room.

From under your bed.

From inside your pillow.  

From behind you came a deep, soggy howl

Like Ole Muddy come to seize the day, the roar of a thousand demons..

And everything bad you ever did to anyone, and every harkening, thrilling, good, bad, ugly, bold moment in your life crashed into a deep oblivion

Of sorrow, of woe.

OF absolute heart-break, and mental ache,

The growl sputtled and gurgled.

If Satan could sing!

And the end of the growl was even worse than the beginning!

You heard it!

The wail of witches, and innocent lives being burned at the stake

And tortured, and flogged.

Abandoned infants wishing for a Mother’s Love.

Lost and cold, and sad, and innocent.

The wail.

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This post was written by SandrewMyers