Death Becomes Me
The night was sultry...like a sweaty hooker. I peeled off my t-shirt, dangled it from my back pocket, and skittered across the street bathed in amber from the tired lights I tried to avoid. But those amber lights did not bend the corner that I did; they shrank away as I ducked into that narrow alley, and the darkness stretched out like a river of ink... flowing like a current to my salvation...to justice.
As I moved through the pitch, the building came into focus and I could see a dancing wick in the attic. I could feel the sweat rolling down my back, and I could hear every pebble under foot. I scanned the edges of the darkness for movement, but I sensed no threats...only prey.
By the time I reached the top of the fire escape I could hear something. A rhythmic squeak that was hard to place. I leaned closer trying to make it out, and the rhythm picked up in speed and intensity. I crawled through the hall window and toed my way up the stairs, skipping every other one, until I could see him. He was rocking, in an old wooden chair, mumbling feverishly.
I crept up behind him, and time slowed down; the only thing that existed was her. I could see her again, clear as day...but his rocking pulled my focus back...cut through the red.
I was over his shoulder now, and he was oblivious. I could see that he was reading a Bible, but all the pages had been replaced... replaced with pictures... And as he read deeper, and deeper into his book, he rocked harder, and faster.
His mumbling grew to a growl and he flipped the pages more and more violently, as if he were looking for something. I slowly leaned down and stretched my hand to my boot when all of his emotional motion came to a complete halt. I froze for a moment as he peered at his book. He began rocking back and forth in his seat like a mental patient and I slowly rose to my full form... then I saw her there. A page in his book.
Everything was tinted red again and my razor bristled with anticipation. That man bore witness, as his world transformed into a Jackson Pollack splatter, of his own body matter...and after it all, I waited. I hid and I waited; because I knew that another little maggot would come creeping out.
I had lost count of the hours and the days, when the first maggot appeared. In spite of the display of art, this maggot began rooting through the carnage in search...when he found the "Bible" he tucked it into his jacket and scurried away...but not away from me. No he merely lead me to the viper's den.
I would spend many dark nights painting the walls with these men, and in every piece of art, I saw her.
I once was lost, but then I was found... found by a man with a thorny crown who asked me to show the world the art of war again...war against the evil of men.