And they came over unto the other side of the sea, into the country of the Gadarenes.
Immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit. No man could bind him, not even with chains.
Neither could any man tame him.
And always, night and day, he was in the mountains, and in the tombs, crying, and cutting himself with stones.
But when he saw Jesus afar off, he ran and worshipped him, And cried with a loud voice.
“What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the most high God? I adjure thee by God, that thou torment me not.”.
Jesus said unto him,
“What is thy name?”
And he answered, saying,
“My name is Legion: for we are many.”
Innocence is the wonder born of the Garden of Eden. It is a link to god, a preservative of the soul, and something that all humans share from birth. But it’s purity and freshness can be so easily spoiled. Bruised as easily as an orchid’s petal.
I used to believe that man was inherently innocent. That we all, no matter how filled with sin we became, how jaded our minds fell. Were still inclined towards our original purity. But it really only veils the true dark interior of man, linen lace curtains on a sanitarium’s windows. Innocence is just another word for ignorance
I worry that God does not know how horrible man can be. Born in his image, but grown into our own twisted visage. Truly the apples that fell the furthest from the tree, bodies with animal needs, souls with the desires of gods, and a heart that only could be called a Man’s. We are the Frankenstein’s Monsters of the universe. And as much as I worry god doesn’t know how twisted we’ve become, I’m terrified that he does.
My story begins and ends one year to the night. It probably was only a flash in the pan of my life. But one that has left my soul scarred ‘til death, and possibly eternity. I sat here, in my studio flat at the top of the Statehouse Building, the world around me quieted by its walls. A storm raged outside, the first of the year and I dozed by the fire, with some book of half forgotten lore¼¼¼¼¼¼.
I was asleep almost. The world outside my window was concealed through velvet, linen, and my sleep-fogged brain. Man was busily moving towards the next year through alcohol, sex, and survival of the fittest. I however had stopped time to pull myself far away from the torments that humanity made on its journey by stuffing myself into a recliner by the fire and my nose into a playbook found in a dark corner of some unknown bookstore. The warmth and the tedium had begun to work upon me though as I had set the book upon my lap and closed my eyes.
I remember hearing the crack of the fire as another log burned into ash. The dripping of water off the brick as the rain ran down some unknown crack from the chimney. The yellow light of the room seeped through my eyelids sickening my half sleep with a feeling of bile in my throat. My brain was becoming a chaotic mess of thoughts from the first act of the “The King In Yellow” and the day’s mundane events. They played through my head; twisting into one another I began drifting closer to sleep.
A rip of thunder cracked through the wall, startling me suddenly awake - loud enough to rumble the floorboards and pictures around me with a vibration that went straight to my fillings. The playbook flew from my hands and I jumped to my feet from my easy chair. Fearing that the Great Lord Satan himself was descending and intent on dragging me to the abyss.
A close one I remarked. My Old Irish Grandmother used to say thunderstorms were God and Satan battling in the sky. That the stray thunderbolts and lightning, were the blows that were either deflected or dodged. Gathering my wits about me I composed myself as gentlemanly as possible feeling silly about how startled I was. I went to a velvet-covered window and pushed a drape over for a peek outside. So God and the devil were bringing their battle right to my door for an evening drink it seemed. I laughed to myself as another great flash of light and boom of thunder shook through the night and my flat. An intriguing woman, My Grandmother was always able to make me feel better about things while making them so much worse.
Still laughing to myself about my grandmother’s “Divine Battle” giving me a scare, I turned from the window and prepared to pack up for a nights rest. When I gave pause. Was there something underneath that last peal of thunder? Something similar enough to a thunder clap that it masked it almost completely. Something crashing upon the roof? Most likely too much brandy.
Picking up my playbook and turning off the sole reading light, I turned towards my chambers and thoughts of tomorrow. Rationality, seeping back into my psyche, shooing the bogeymen of childhood into the corners of the room I remembered the flue on the fireplace. Divine battle or not the storm still was a storm.
I stepped towards the dying fireplace, eyeing it by the dying coals. Each pulsed in their glowing as air from the tempest above blew down the chimney. Suddenly the glows all burned red and went out. Exhausting them in a breath. I stopped in my tracks wondering what caused such a sudden death. Immediately a sound more unearthly than any storm’s wind echoed down chimney. A sound that likened death and reverence forged into the most sorrowful cry and reverberated off the sotted brick down to me. I drew back feeling the sound waves die in my bones and the fear come alive in my heart
I am not a man to harbor guesses, so I cannot comment on what I thought it could have been at that time. Thinking back, I believe it probably shook too much sense from my body to even rationalize that it was even a sound. That was how alien and deeply moving it was. For some reason I felt it was more than just a product of nature, that it had an owner, and that is what unnerved me even more.
“Hel¼Hell¼ Hello?” I nervously spoke at the open fireplace. Hoping the sound of my own voice would assure me of my reality.
“Leeejuun¼” The noise articulated down the chimney. I backed up gasping, nearly losing my balance over the footrest of my armchair until I reached the wall opposite the fireplace.
I continued to gasp, staring at the fireplace. Soot rustled down the chimney assuring me something was at the top of it, something that now knew I was down here. The rustling became more fevered as a second wave of that alien sound made its way down the brick. Grown in pitch and intensity, as if it was trying to manifest itself to touch me. I put my fists to my ears and screwed my eyes shut. The noise would not be stopped though, if anything trying to keep it out made it worse. Almost as if, without my senses it found it’s way into my head and reverberated inside the emptiness of my thoughts. My stomach began to turn and fell to my knees and threw up upon the floorboards, like a rope attached to yesterday’s breakfast was being pulled out of my mouth. The noise knocking around in my head attacking my psyche and my body uncontrollable locked in position on all fours while everything from my lower intestine on up tried taking the hard way out.
I wretched until my muscle’s shook completely out of my control and burned with pain. I curled into the fetal position and cried in both fear and childish hurting, when I realized, all was silent. I wiped my mouth carelessly on my sleeve. Having been driven to near madness I unconsciously crawled through my mess towards the fireplace, grunting like an animal, curious to hear if the pain was over¼all was silent except the pelt of rain on my windows.
I rose, shaking and soiled from the floor. I looked at the fireplace, then looked towards the door. Something was on my roof ¼
I walked towards the door, humorously enough I remember walking around the vomit on the floor. I turned the bolt, slid the chain, and cracked open the door to peer into the hallway. All was silent and undisturbed. I opened the door further and peered deeper into the hallway, towards the stairs to the roof. Nothing¼
To tell you the truth I don’t know why I did what I did next, but it came as easily as breathing, and less thought than changing the channel on my television. I slid out my door and crept along the wall to the stairwell to the roof. I silently padded my way up the stairs and took hold of the doorknob for the roof. I stared at my hand wrapped around the brass knob and wondered why it seemed so odd to be holding it, I turned the knob and opened the door, and the storm outside smacked me in my face.
Rain poured down from above. Within seconds of opening the door I was soaked. The roof was covered in several inches of standing water. I looked across the garden of chimneys and heating ducts for life, lightning illuminating the scene for a second but showing nothing. I stepped out the doorway and put my foot into a hidden trench on the roof. I looked down to assure my footing when something very strange floated by. The longest, most shining white feather I had ever seen. I wiped the pouring water from my brow and leaned closer.
“Leeeejunn¼.” I snapped my head to right of the doorway towards the word. Feathers covered the roof, blowing in the wind, sticking to the wet brick and metal of the roof, still not revealing the source of the feathers or sound. I crept further onto the roof, sticking close to the brickwork of the stairwell. As I reached the back of the structure my chimney came into view, and lain around it was something dressed in white stained with red. With two long, slender white wings, at angles that a deformed bird even wouldn’t have.
“Leeejunn.” It moaned. I tiptoed towards it through the water. It screeched slightly and the white/red cloth moved as it repositioned it self. I stopped in my tracks until it finished its moving. I leaned over it. There was a human symmetry to its shape, let alone its wings. It was very asexual, slender and fine, but strong at the same time showing through the wet linen.
“Leeejunnn¼”. Trailed off from under the folds of cloth. I needed to see its face. I got on my knees and hunched close to its body. I gingerly took hold of the cloth covering what I thought was its head and peeled it back¼¼It was beautiful¼¼No it was horrible...Painful, but not. ¼. I killed it, I grabbed hold of it’s twisted wing and wrenched it until it came off like a fly’s ¼..How could something scream like that ¼¼? I jammed my hand into the wound and dug until I felt a heartbeat¼¼. Screams¼¼¼¼the tissue felt tight around my fingers ¼¼. Nothing pure could scream like that¼¼or was it me¼…. I screamed, I squeezed……..Oh God please save our souls.
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