Maelstrom Devolution ~ Realm of the Abortinates


Maelstrom Devolution – Realm of the Abortinates

The sun was soft and the boat rocked gently. It wasn’t so bad running out of fuel, until, the appearance of two fins circling our now powerless boat. Sharks. But sharks unlike ones I’d ever seen before in books, films, or aquariums. These looked like amalgamous leftovers from some prehistoric age. Fins coupled with scales and hideous appendages jutting out from every angle and portal of their bodies. Sea creatures sent from Hades to devour us. Every so often one would rear its ugly head and bear its ferocious teeth. Snap.. Snap… The jaws of death.

Fortunately or at least we thought so at the time, appeared the mast of another sailing vessel approaching us. We shouted and waved cloths to get their attention. It got closer and closer. One of their crew fired into the water scaring away the hungry sea monsters. At this point we were so frightened that we quickly responded to their offer of rescue and boarded their vessel without further hesitation.

One of the hideous primitives played out a line behind him quickly and efficiently securing our now forlorn vessel to theirs.

My fiancé and I were hungrily welcome aboard the rather ragtag vessel by a scurvy crew of men shouting orders at each other in a foreign tongue that we could not comprehend.

Still another of the monstrosities that I hesitate to call a crew member but must for lack of a better word collected what few personalities we had brought with us on what was supposed to be a romantic sail. There went our small ham radio, the stereopticon, and my black bag containing medical instruments that I used in my studies of phrenology, a small notebook containing my writings. Our ship of salvation quickly turned into a “Flying Dutchman”.

During our sojourn upon the island I was to use this notebook to record the lives and cultures of the barbarous captors. Male and female were employed upon this accursed ship but save for the pendulous breasts of the females the mutants were virtually indistinguishable one from another.

We tried to communicate with them. Trying to explain that we were Her Majesty’s citizens, subjects of the Empire but no sooner than we had begun our implorments than we were thrown into the filthy hold. An area teeming with vermin. Several other curious animals in not so sturdy cages were housed with us in this den of darkness. Every so often what we were to later find to be an equally retched enslaved servant came down to feed us and give us fresh water for drinking and bathing. Excretion and elimination was in another bucket emptied twice daily. They kept us clean and fed enough for survival but imprisoned without the benefit of sunlight or fresh air save once a week to be inspected by the hedonistic captain. Once he was satisfied that we would survive the voyage we were again rudely returned to our cruel holding place. Then after a time we were allow daily excursions onto the  deck to promenade before the crew members as we came to be considered oddities, curiosities worthy of entertainment. We who were free servants in the royal court now stood enslaved by malformed opiate dwellers.

While upon one of our daily constitutionals we gained the intelligence of what became of any manimal who died onboard. The flesh of any creature or crew member who died was not wasted but that animal was boiled, skinned and deboned becoming part of a stew partaken by all the others. Often the flesh was not cooked at all and many times we saw one disfigured boar like crew member disgorge the contents of his meal from his stomach. The regurgitation was then collected by a fellow crew member to be reused for another type of stew the contents of which looked something like the vomit regurgitations of birds and cows. Pestilence should have taken hold and reigned upon necrotic menagerie however the bodies of these mutants of science and nature proved very efficient in combating disease. Any deaths usually resulted from accidents or murders committed by unhinged temperaments.

The Beloved and I ate only the porridge, roots from the ground and limited vegetation served us daily. We abstained from the flesh.

During one of our brief stays on deck my love and I could see a small island off in the distance. Not having an expert knowledge of geography, mapping or topography we were at a total loss to determine our destination but as time passed we slowly became accustomed and acclimated to the grunts, shrieks, groans and hurls of the crews unintelligible language to hear one word repeatedly. Moreau. Yes we were headed to the former island and laboratory of the infamous Dr. Moreau……………..

Suddenly we realized that we had been captured by a race of pseudo humans. Abortions birthed before the full levels of development could be completed. The Abortinates left behind when Dr. Moreau was killed. These creatures managed to not only survive but to thrive and procreate. Having a semblance of a human mind their technology advanced to the point of allowing them to build boats and seize luckless travelers who happened into their pathway.

Over a period of time my beloved and I began to acclimate ourselves to the island and gradually deciphered the fractured tongue of these savages who held us captive. We the purveyors of culture entombed into a society of devils and demons.

Desecration of the House of Order

Unlike the refined lovemaking of my Beloved One and I, yes they did allow us conjugal time and space, these creatures coupled like the savage beasts they were the males entering the females from behind. One could hear their frantic animal sounds of lust, which to me were like the ones of defecation piercing the night air on an almost hourly basis. These deformities of nature had a predilection for giving over to the baser instincts anytime, anywhere stopping the task at hand to copulate demonically.

As we learned to speak their language we gained their confidence and one day we were whisked away to a city translated from their tongue called Maelstrom. It resembled a series of root systems into which the souls of men were sucked up and their bodies transported via journeys to destinations at various points of the underground. Each root was a bustling Metropolis unto itself. These misconceptions of the unnatural actually possessed the ability to construct a thriving city meeting the needs of the greater populace.

Revelation

It was amazing to the Beloved and I how this race of corrupted beings could achieve such levels of higher technology and skill possessing such low level deviant minds and rotted souls.

Then the answer came when one night shortly after we had been taken into their confidence we were allowed to view one of the many satanic evil ritual worship services located in what was once Dr. Moreau’s living quarters. What was once the house of order had become a foul smelling shanty subject to the febrile predilections of a race of deviants.

One night as we observed one of their phantasmagorical rituals we saw one of the secrets of their atypical advancements. During their satanic services which were held at the end of every week at approximately the midnight hour we saw them imbibe a potion an elixir of sorts made from a recipe left behind at Dr. Moreau’s abandoned laboratory located on the surface of the island.

As they made their way over to what once was or rather formerly the home and bedchambers of the Creator-god Moreau. At the start of the service the Holy Book was raised and presented to Anton the head demon that not only kissed the book but devoured a portion of it. He was joined by a profane Votary who read incantations from their vile scriptures dedicated to the black arts. Together they invoked the spirits of the underworld. “Spirits of the Underworld. All that is unholy and unworthy come forth!” As they gave utterance to the sacred passages, Anton, leader of the services smote the book and Kali the many armed one came forth.

Kali known as the “black one” consort of Shiva, wore a thin garment adorned with considerable jewelry: gold earrings, a three nose rings and three necklaces for the unholy Trinity. Her headdress had tassels that framed her forehead. She tore one of the malformed offspring from one of the beasts, decapitating it with her fangs all whilst ripping the still beating heart from its tiny breast to be partially devoured the rest placed upon the altar as a sacrifice.

Inflamed and intoxicated by perversity the beasts renewed their orgy with a renewed fervor and vigor. Pounding drums beat out a rhythm to match the melee. Without warning a full moon appeared in heretofore almost completely blackened night sky and a Goddess arose from the night mist like unto the Beautiful one.

“My name is Light and it is spelled with symbols from the Moon, Stars and sun.” As the Goddess raised her arms and as her raiment fell away florescent symbols ignited by the armada of light emanating from the night sky were revealed upon her muscular arms, upper shoulders, upper and lower back. Energy proceeded forth from each transcription radiating to her Janus sister. The Beautiful one came as bright sister to Kali to preside over and sanction the lewd rites.

Prior to the recitation of the Initiate the Beautiful rose up to give this agonized prayer. To my amazement my Beloved arose with her and together their spirits made supplication.

As the two sisters ululated their lip spoken voices died away and the symbols began to chant the words; sacred, secular, profane.

 



 

Return to the Realm of Maelstrom Deviation Cycles of Time

On dark inky blue moonless nights of wicked worship they would gather dried herbs they cultivated from the island’s rough soil place them into a type of incense burner and inhale the fumes, transporting worshippers into a trance. Once in the trance they would commence to dance. First in a line then in a circle arms linked together chanting to their unholy god. Finally the ritual would end in the drinking of the potion and they would retire back to their rude dwellings that they called homes.

At first they attempted to evangelize the Beloved One and I into their morbid séances but we declined and for whatever reason perhaps because they sensed our innate superiority allowed us to watch and pretty much left us to our own devices in the evening hours.

Sometimes late in the night after the Beloved and I had retired to our chambers we could hear rough guttural Gregorian Chants in the distance.

The Road to Hell

But this place which we referred to as The Island was not just the former dwelling place of an evil man who attempted to usurp God and nearly succeed in destroying the authentic world but it was a step into another dimension. A place that did not exist on any map made by man. Once again another realization came upon the Beloved and I. We had entered into one of the realms of the underworld. A Hades, a Hell, a living personal nightmare populated by the demons that lurked within our very minds and souls. Suddenly a veil was lifted and we found ourselves within the dark caverns of the sea. The sisters of Ishtar goddess of death and destruction, good and evil, love, war and lust had delivered us to her lower sister via the sea. Oceans of dead souls washed over us. Those dark, serpent-like many limbed sharks were just dark angels who identified potential souls for the kingdoms of darkness.

These whom we had lived with and come to know were really the spawn of the goddesses Ishtar and Lilith. Those creatures, once mortal men had loved the twin succubae had suddenly and for no reason offended them and were cruelly ejaculated from their sexual paradise; rejected by them constrained to live in an immortal plane feasting on captured souls for nourishment.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin

A Building at Rest ~ Goth Holiday at the Museum


A Building at Rest

The museum Thanksgiving Day 2012
the museum is populated by a wonderful yet mysterious quiet & peace undisturbed by the frenetic masses. Silences punctuated only by flowing water, the endless hum and shifting of building machinery.

Even normal noises can be unsettling. Especially those associated with people. The building has become a living breathing organism Uttering creaks moans sighs groans from nearly 150 years of footfalls, voices, radios, songs, cantatas, the chiming of clocks, exclamations of awe & wonder. Whispers from an Archaic Victorian century long past to digital diversity.

Oh what secrets lie transfixed within these silent walls yearning for release.  The Hunger has been unleashed upon the populace.

The immortality of brick, mortar & steel record the march of ethnicities & nations who roam free these hallowed halls.

Sometimes the sudden interruption of footfalls becomes ominous, invading the sanctity of the Holy Sanctuary. Even the sound of my own steps is somewhat menacing. What spirits accompany me on perambulations among the saints and sinners?

The feeble burbling of the fountain stream’s half-hearted attempts to empty its essence, struggling to pollinate magnificent coins.

The day is at end, the light has faded. Now the night crew enters to continue the evening melody.

Hotel California
Hotel California

Reflections Goth Holiday 2013

Cadaver Mind A.D.D.

Heaving sighs and moans.  Creaks, chrupping of brick, mortar, steel and glass pane windows. Blood oozes and drips from open wounds in Laymen’s red brick walls. Elevator doors open and a thousand wailing, howling, grieving souls swoop through the air and into the Medieval Court crying for revenge. Flight of the Valkyries. The Martyrs avenge their unjust and untimely deaths. Swirling and whirling like profane dervishes from netherworld’s portal of the undead.

Angels Falling
Angels Falling

Hail Mary Echoes from thousands of Knights, monks, Nuns, bishops, and church saints racing through Byzantium corridors. Spirits of Reliquaries issue forth warnings and admonishments to modern day savages. Reliquary Fingers of Blessing Inflict Pain Yanking Opening Death’s Door breaking off bits and pieces of flesh, bone, teeth and hair for deposit into ossuary banks.

Slats opening and closing mindfully as though giving some secret Morse Code. Dioramas of Death act out murderous suicidal dramas. Eagle slays Dragon plucking out blinded eyes from empty orbs.

Medieval castle built long ago by invaders long forgotten. A grand foyer flanked by two long hallways of Byzantine art leading into Medieval Sculpture Hall filled with statues of Madonnas, Saints, Mystics, Relics, and tombs from Egypt, Europe, Greece, Cyprus and South America. Kali goddess of the sarcophagus raises her many arms in Victory. Subterranean pipes hissing steam clanking unrest.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin
Island of the Damned by Bocklin

Secret panels opening up to Mausoleum subterranean chambers containing overturned ossuaries, bones bleached white scattered throughout the tombs.

Abruptly Angels on the Christmas tree come to life and like ravenous vampire bats attack unsuspecting visitors. Reanimated Reliquary Arms reach out to throttle throats of fleeing patrons. Fang toothed Egyptian mummies arise and break through display cases to satiate their ancient eon hunger upon frenzied victims. Their desert saliva spreading infection causing festering vile pus filled carbuncles to captive prey.

Emptiness and Futility of Life
Life’s ignoble Ending

Desire run rampant as sacrilegious effigies coupled and reached radiant necrophilia orgasm stone bodies now made supple. Mystics and Monks glowered lecherously all the while reciting Gregorian chants, dirges and cries for absolution filling the room with the intensity of their mating.

Gargoyles descended from illicit trysts with human females and warlock man beasts gave into the licentious behaviors’ anointing themselves and fleeing clienteles with seminal fluid oily slick.

Orgasm became an exceptional obsession.

Viscous gleaming blood, shimmering with glided preternatural flakes of light. Black Iris her breasts like soft fragrant pillows.

Holy Trinity vs. the Trifecta of Terror?


Holy Trinity vs. the Trifecta of Terror?

Horror is a literary and film genre I’ve always loved from a child. Give me a good Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaney, Jr. or Boris Karloff film above the over sanitized song & dance Busby Berkley movies any time, any place or anywhere. Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy drove me nuts with their bursting into song at the most inopportune moment during the story.  I’ve never had any external or internal conflict concerning my Christian faith with my fondness for Vampires, Werewolves or zombies. Why? Because I know that they are not real.  Just scary entertainment and nothing more.

Albeit back in my college days there was a Goth girl in my school who drank human blood. Believe me I gave the Goths a wide berth but then again since I was an older (36 year old) night time student we never crossed paths so she and her minions never had the opportunity to access the quality of my veins and arteries.

Like many women I’ve dated a guy with a hairy back. Poor fellow had more hair on his back than on his head but at no time during the months that we were together did he become a snarling libidinous ravenous Wolf Being after Midnight. If he had made some sort of hirsute transformation in the midst of our eating dinner or watching a play then I would have become Cat Woman.

Cat People 1942 Film
Cat People 1942 Film

 

No, not the Cat Woman most of us are familiar with from television and movies but the old school Cat Woman in the film, 1942 flick “Cat People” where the woman upon sexual arousal turns into a real cat! A Panther!  Yes I know there was a 1982 remake of Cat People but I did not like that one.  The original 1942 version was much better.  Did you get that visual of the Cat People Woman and the Werewolf changing during their most erotic moments?  

The Trifecta of Terror: Vampires, Werewolves, and Zombies all came from the overly active imaginations of writers mixed with folklore from various parts of the world.  Bram Stoker created Dracula based on myths and legends from Eastern Europe coupled with a healthy dose of hidden references to repressed sexuality. Mary Shelley gave birth to Frankenstein or as was in the original title The Modern Prometheus which may have been a possible response to the debate on evolution and of course the forbidden realm of the occult.

1942 Cat People
1942 Cat People

As for Zombies, I’m not really too keen on them but I see Zombies aka The Walking Dead in my daily dealings with the general public who display a shocking lack of basic historical knowledge, good manners, common sense and a lack of respect for the rest of the visitors or for my hardworking fellow co-workers.  The Walking Dead is also an accurate description of our government, i.e, the Congress and Senate as well as an apathetic public that believes the hype and drinks the Kool-Aid.  Unfortunately with the advent of modern media such as personal computers, tablets, the Internet, the Web, Smartphones, Laptops, Facebook, Twitter, Google+ and other social media perhaps the true horror and terror of the movie, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” has come to pass.  Many have been sucked into the mindlessness of Reality TV resulting in assimilation into the Borg Hive.

My favorite Horror sub-genre is psychological horror. It’s that seemingly, quiet, peaceful mundane happenings in small towns and pastoral villages across the globe, that have a hidden under current of evil. Stephen King and Anne Rice are Horror Masters. You know those small towns that exude normalcy but are really the Belly of the Beast. The late great Rod Serling hit the name on the head with the unexpected with the classic TV series, “The Twilight Zone.”  A television favorite of many viewers’ decades after his death.  I’ll leave you with two links to Two of my favorite disturbing Tales of Understated Terror.

A great literary example is the Shirley Jackson short story, “The Lottery.”   http://sites.middlebury.edu/individualandthesociety/files/2010/09/jackson_lottery.pdf

AND

A Rose for Emily by William Faulkner    http://xroads.virginia.edu/~drbr/wf_rose.html