A porcelain doll

With a cracked face

Staring at the wall

In this unwelcome place

Forlorn and in disrepair

Dress yellowed with age

Once long and shiny hair

No longer on the stage

No one ever glanced at her

Upon a towering shelf

Everyday an endless blur

With no one but herself

Never taken down to play

Alone in waning glitz

As her mind and soul decay

She forever sits

Eyes fluttering open, I inhale the smell of death in the air.

Looking around I see the aftermath of the night before.

It's dark, so I can barely make out the small soft shapes of the unmoving bodies.

Yet I know they are there.

The lightning flashes through the window as if to remind me they are.

I catch my first conscience glimpse of my work of art.

The blood begins to coagulate forming a three-dimensional work of clotted art.

The adjacent wall being the chosen canvass of the masterpiece.

Fragments of shattered skull pepper the floor like confetti from a surprise party.

Surprise party, indeed.

I turn on the light and attempt to take it all in.

The morning storm rages on outside.

I glance at myself in the mirror noticing I am covered in my art.

My face is stiff with the dried paint of my model.

I walk out of the room and hear a barely audible whisper of agony in the other room.

Unfinished work.

I start to make my way towards the cry, when I realize I have all day to finish.

Besides I somewhat enjoy the faint cries of mercy.

It goes well with the weather.

...

I walk into the room

When the model sees me she uses every ounce of her dying strength to curse me,

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!"

...

I swear to God...some people have no taste when it comes to art.

- Copyright © by The Number 42 /Angel Suarez

" Now this is the point you fancy me mad..." - Edgar Allan Poe

________________________

When I wake up drenched in a cold sweat in the middle of the night

From my reoccurring nightmare; my mind then begins it's tricks with the light

Within the shadows I see your silhouette cast from the doorway

Yet when I look again it's something else that simply goes away

...

What was that? There in the corner...was that just another bluff?

I saw another shadow by my side, twas there not long; just enough

To make me believe this foolishness my heart would tell me tales

And convince myself that you are here until my paranoia prevails

I try and sleep yet hear you creep as I lay beneath my sheets

I can almost hear your heartbeat as if you are indeed next to me

I throw the covers off in a heap and wonder how this could be

In the doorway I think I see your single eye looking back at me

"I LOVED YOU!", I scream. "YOU NEVER WRONGED ME! WHY DO THIS?"

With that I hear nothing but an empty house and the wind's incessant hiss

And then, very gently, very softly does the sound begin

Like a watch wrapped in cotton; at least the rest of the madness seemed to end

And as I lie back down and pull the covers over my head

Finally willing myself back to sleep I just drift back into dread

It's the same nightmare I have every single night since that day

I made the mistake of thinking If I killed you; you would go away

- Copyright © by Angel Suarez / The Number 42

"I'm so excited to have your last name!" 

I remember when she said it to me, her brown eyes all aglow so that they were almost hazel, her long brown hair bundled up on top of her head. She had been sitting in my lap, her gentle body flush to mine. Her arms had been draped over my shoulders, playing with my hair. She had seemed so happy, and I truly was. She was the love of my life, what with her sharp jaw and bright eyes and her abundant love for everything golden. 

I didn't realize it until it was too late. Her cold knife interrupted the lovely warmth of the moment, crudely and without tact, not unlike when you run out of hot water in the midst of a shower. My chilly blood had spilled into her lap, gushing from my gut with all the fervor of a crowd escaping a burning building. I hadn't known what to do, what to say, so I just watched, gargling on my own lifeblood as she twisted that blade deeper into my stomach. 

Now here they lay, arms and legs tangled together in a raunchy pile of aftersex. And here I lay, perched on the chandelier, unscrewing it slowly, slowly ever so slowly, and savoring every moment where they lay, unaware of their soon to descend death. The only thing that could have made this revenge sweeter is if she had looked up then. If she had seen me in all my ghostly white, hovering above her and her new husband, she would have screamed with more passion now than she had before. That was comforting at least, I could make her scream better than he could. 

But alas it could not be so, for she never looked up, and the chandelier never fell. For in all my bitterness, in all my hate, I could not be the killer of both my fiancee and my brother. 

I am by the cellar door

waiting for the palm

of your hand to reach out

to remember being lost

to feel it sting and itch

with the weight of water

as dust turns our past to mud

I evaporate into clouds

causing lightening

to crack every desert rock

The earth knows me

I hear glass shatter

dogs bark

fifteen gunshots

into the belly of a bear

every echo breaking

my memory away from you

causing it to sharpen and drop

back to earth into the now

Where I should stay

The speed of wolves varies

with thickness of wind

how the smell lingers from

the blood of the hunt

This is happening because it is nature

They will feast on the kill

I will cry out into thin air

lick my lips of geranium rum

Curse this curse that breaks me

It will not change the night from

being dark and frightful

Start another day on silent

Forget the palm and bleed out

for the fire is mute.

Today the devil came for me

Interrupting my morning coffee.

He had my name on a little clipboard

That he'd stolen from the Lord.

I'd been expecting him for a while

I was surprised, lateness wasn't his style.

He asked me if I knew my crime

I said yes, and it was about time

I'd sold my soul so many years past

Back when I thought that day would be my last

When I was sitting in that electric chair

Static blazing through my hair.

I made him a deal, I said Satan, man,

If you let me live, I'll do what I can

To make hell on Earth for you,

To make a sweet and bloody stew

Out of every person I can entice

Into my basement, done up oh so nice

With chains and knives and saws and things

I'll string them up on shiny rings.

Just look at what I've done, my King,

I have given everything

To make you proud, to make you smile,

I have been positively vile.

I told him all that I had done,

Every murder, bleached bones in lying the sun,

And as he listened to my confession,

He wore the most interesting expression.

After I was done he slowly said,

As though he was speaking from the dead,

"I've been giving it a lot of thought,

And I've been thinking that I ought

To retire soon, I'm getting bored,

Of stealing souls that have murdered or whored,

I'm looking for a little rest,

To put someone else up to the test.

I think you'd be the perfect match,

To follow in my footsteps and snatch

Every unfortunate little sinner

Who eats temptation for his dinner.

So what do you say, will you give it a chance?

Will you do the devil's dance?"

He looked at me and I thought for a bit,

I kind of liked the sound of it.

I stood up and put forth my hand,

To show him I did understand.

Said I, "I'll make a deal and cross my heart.

Just let me loose and tell me where to start."

I was never one

Of the pack.

I was a lone

Wolf keeping track

With a herd

Of elephants

I was never very good

At joining the sycophants

Myopic banality

They never see past

The cult of personality

In their common repast

Healthy cynicism

Use some

Healthy criticism

Wherever I roam

Remember me as the wind in tall grass

burnished stars cuddling in moon’s bosom

the rays of the sun kissing your supple skin

blonde fingers of tender dawning light

the gentle lap of the foam specked tide

the soft sand dribbling through hands

cherubic puffed clouds frolicking in sky

faces of my children shining their future

the momentary glances of strangers

and the warm laughter of friends

the soft rain and tumultuous storms

the passion of two embracing lovers

kind words to uplift those feeling sadness

flowers lifting faces to celestial sphere

search for truth and justice for all

Yes, remember me, as rich nourishment

giving my body back to the earth.

I fell completely in love with the old Victorian house with the gingerbread trim the first time I laid eyes on it.  When I saw the "for rent" sign, I just knew I had to live there until my new apartment was ready.  Knocking on the front door, I was greeted by an old arthritic gentleman who kept telling me to speak louder.

"I'd like to rent your room for a couple of months," I requested in a raised voice. "I'm starting a new job and I'm waiting for my place to become ready."

"Under one condition," the elderly man intoned,  "The basement is completely off limits!"

I agreed to his condition and moved into the historic house, wondering if it harbored any secrets,  Soon, I began to realize that something was off kilter in this ancient place. "Eleven, eleven, eleven,"  the harsh chants emanated from the basement.  I racked my brain to figure out was 'eleven' meant with no success.  I wondered if it referred to the number of rooms in the old house which totaled exactly eleven.  Maybe a previous owner had had eleven children.  Perhaps the basement had eleven boxes of antiquated clothes belonging to a past owner.  I looked at my calendar and realized it was October eleventh so I took this as an omen that I should explore the voice from the basement that night while the owner was asleep.

I was surprised to find the basement door unlocked and crept stealthily down the stairs to the basement.  It was empty except for an old furnace and some boxes of books.  While I was in the far corner, I heard, once again, the voice moaning from under the darkened stairs, "eleven, eleven, eleven."  I was petrified because I knew I had to use the stairs to go back upstairs. I crept over to the stairs to peek under the risers before chancing going up the steps.  All of a sudden, a long arm reached up and pulled me under the stairs which were scattered with bones and torn clothing.  An invisible force compelled me to stay there where I, too, soon became skeletonized remains.

"Twelve, twelve, twelve," droned the disembodied voice.  I did not hear it!

I shouldn't have come here. I definitely should not have come here. My hands were shaking as I clutched my DSLR desperately. Two yards onto the path, and already I couldn't hear a thing. Fumio had told me as much, but even he couldn't have prepared me for how enveloping and crushing the forest's silence would be. Only a few minutes ago, I had still been able to discern the chatter of the tourist group behind me; the giggling group of college girls that would go no farther than the visitor's center. Ninety thousand people had warned me that actually venturing into Aokigahara was foolish enough, let alone by myself. I breathed out, short and sharp, and the puff seemed to echo around me for a split second before being utterly absorbed by the trees.

"Shake it off," I told myself loudly. "You've got a goal, here." I flashed back to my conversation with Fumio, when I finally told him I was going.

"You went," I told him. "You made it out." He absently played with my short hair and sighed.

"Barely. You can't imagine it, you can't imagine what it's like." I sat up off his chest and turned to face him. 

"I can't, you're right. And neither can most people. It's this vast mystery, and poignant, and powerful, and I just have to...have to capture it for people, I guess. Besides, those souls deserve to be remembered." 

"You might not come out." His voice was pleading. I cupped my hand against his cheek.

"I have good intentions. I think the forest will know. It won't hurt me." Fumio shook his head and sighed resignedly, then chuckled lightly.

"In three years, I have never been able to stop you from doing anything. Tell me what I can do to help."

I slipped my hand into my pocket quickly, ascertaining that the map he'd made me was still there. Once I'd walked a few more steps, I turned around and snapped my establishing shot. The path's head was just barely visible, surrounded by gnarled bark and drooping, elegant, dark green foliage. 

"Go back," a tiny voice whispered next to my ear. I gasped and jerked away from the source of the noise, whirling toward it. Nothing and no one was there. 

"You shall face many twisted and warped spirits of the dead," the Shinto priest told me. "Many may have been evil while they lived. Keep in mind I do not advise this, at all."

"I understand." He sighed deeply.

"Take these," he told me, pushing a tightly wrapped bundle of bronze arrows across the low wooden table. "If you are faced with any negative energies, and when you reach the dead, place one on the ground. They have been blessed and will invoke the spirit of the divine protector, Hachiman."

"Does it matter which direction they face? Compasses fail once you enter." 

"No. Also, take this, it is a token of Hachiman. Do not, under any circumstances, take it off." He handed me a small silver circle on a chain; on it was a carving of a beautiful but terrifyingly powerful man wielding a sword in a one hand, a dove in the other.

I wasn't sure if whatever spirit had warned me was malevolent; I doubted it strongly, felt no stirrings of fear beyond my initial adrenaline rush, and so left all my arrows wrapped. After continuing along the path for a while, I stopped again and took some three-sixty shots. I didn't pay much attention to how I set them up; trees weren't necessarily what I was after. 

Finally, after roughly an hour of trying to talk myself out of it, I took a deep breath, clutched the token around my neck, and climbed up a small incline off the path. My heart pounded. This was how people died here. I touched the red ribbon tied around the double-trunked tree I knew I would find, and pulled out Fumio's map. The first X was only about ten feet away. I trekked toward it. 

"I'm so sorry," I murmured. The corpse hanging from the tree was old, its visage indiscernible, but its skull, fully perpendicular to its neck shrouded the whole scene in a ghastly sadness. I walked into the woods dubbed "The Suicide Forest" thinking I knew what to expect, but nothing could ready me for the realization that so many people who had walked in here hadn't intended to walk out again. I quickly captured the shot, and worked an arrow away from its companions, laying it under the dead person's feet.

Walking on to the next X, which was farther away, I stopped often to photograph the memories people had left behind. A rotting sneaker. Decaying backpacks. Piles of rope. It was hard not to think about the fact that some of these belonged to people who hadn't been taken by the forest willingly, people like me. At the next marker Fumio had left, I sat down and sobbed. 

I could only stomach looking through viewfinder at the entangled couple. These were not victims of long ago, not at all. I grimly shot from several angles, hoping to catch the desperate, longing expressions on their faces, and wondering why they were there. Their hands were wrapped tightly around each other. I wiped my tears and dropped another arrow on the ground without looking at it. 

The sun had sunk too low to give much light to the forest anymore, and according to the map, the next marker was at least a half hour's walk. I moved out of sight of the dead couple, pulled some sticks and matches out of my pack, and busied myself making a fire. The crackling of the twigs once they were lit finally gave my surroundings some noise, and comforted me. I drank some water, and was munching on my second power bar when I decided to review my pictures. I deleted my duplicates of the foliage itself, but left everything for the ones with actual subjects. I could never tell which ones would be perfect until I edited.

Scrolling through one last time before I would lay a border of Hachiman's arrows and go to sleep, I noticed something in my very first shot. Just barely visible at one edge was a grimy, mutilated, gray shoulder and arm. I flipped to the next one. Nearly half a torso, and one leg, all in the same state of decomposition. A branch snapped in the distance. My breathing stopped.

I clicked onto the third picture. It was a full person, standing to the side, their mouth a swirling black maw and their eyes fathomless caverns.

"I told you to go back," came a whisper behind me. I screamed.