This mind ticks. One cannot tell which illness it ticks from but though in the mind and nightmares it ticks, ticking, ticking, ticking –– ticks louder still as one sees what is within the mind and the demons they grown to understand. Ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking –– as it grows louder, the sound of the demons as they are gnawing away at the senses. That grown from a madness that I cannot begin to tell or understand. It becomes from the louder ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking. That from the sleep within the mind as I heard this sound grow louder and louder still –– ticking, ticking, ticking…..ticking, ticking, ticking as the demons play within the mind of someone who suffers with an illness that cannot be seen. That as one prepares to go out for the night – they cannot hear that ticking….ticking…ticking.
I knew this sound before but could not make sense of it. It was one that played louder in the head as one went to the hospital at the end of the night. That not even the years of theology could even relate to the details of the sound of the ticking demons. That it would be in the eyes of the mind as they are seen, from them known from the pages of the journal that one kept from the times when I was in the Navy –– the horrors are known from when they saw a member from the company hanging lifelessly in a bathroom stall by his dog tags. That kind of insanity would have one longing to be gone from the Navy; asking to be 2311. Though the things within one's mind is at a constant racing pace when they cannot begin to understand how their illness works; though some would describe the illness of bipolar as something of an abomination in the eyes of God – but someone as myself who describes it does believe in God.
That even when I was in the night club one could hear them ticking louder in the mind, and driving them mad. From parts heard in the mind gnawing at their horrors and memory. From the darkness as one can see the rest dancing, it is from the person who just stands there alone –– while the others are drinking on the blood of another. As one sees the person bleeding and they drink; though they were not undead but drank from the blood as it was a perverse fetish. Knowing what one seen was that of a grotesque display of a horror that cannot be put to words, one could hear them as they drank will the clock continued to tick. That it would continue to do the ticking…..ticking…..ticking as one hears the clock in their head, and the demons play with the memories in heads of the ones who watch and look on at something that perverse. That it would become from the illnesses told from them and the warnings around –– when they continue to drink the blood of others without some form of shame. What act of God will allow something of that description of an abomination?
Descending it would appear while the others danced –– the music got louder and louder the ticking became. Ticking….ticking…ticking when it becomes the focus of madness and horror when one sees the drinking of blood –– from the eyes of innocence was killed that night. The horrors told from the beginning –– after the eyes seen from the dreams of the Halloween girl. "What the hell is going on," I said to myself aloud –– I saw nothing like this when they are dressed in a dark elegance; it would be from them that the demons in my dreams came to life. All the years that I spent my face in the pages and reading between the lines one cannot find the sense of the horrors seen, of them drinking blood as they were part of the undead. That not even when I prayed to God above I could begin to understand this ritual of the blood drinking, there was something to it that haunted me from my youth.
Forsaken that it might seem; in the years that I have gone out –– never in my years that I have seen anything like this. I felt her eyes looking back at me –– the dreams that could not be described, in them from a perspective of the Halloween girl. I saw her blood soaked face dancing in an exotic, almost Middle Eastern in the way she moved –– suggesting that I went out to join her but there was something to her that stood in my mind, where was the blood she was drinking coming from? When one sees this in the mind of what is known –– all the questions of faith come into the heart when a behavior abnormal to the norms is what dwells in the mind, that I am the only rational man standing. That the rest dance, the one woman proceeded to drink the blood of another donated soul. Jesus, I thought to myself, disturbed in my mind because this was something that played out –– within a ticking……ticking, and throbbing in my mind. How this mind ticks, seeing as the Halloween Girl had blood from her lips –– and the riddle being where was the place she drank from him. Where were the wounds?
I found myself looking on as she drank from another, the demons showing from the echoes of the abomination stood before them in the places they cannot even find the words to describe. The abomination is there as the mind ticks –– when she dances with blood on her hands. In the dance of ritual as seen before the mind and eyes what they see is something that one doesn't want to even to begin to believe. While one stands in the club – the music gets louder and darker, some dancing on the floor in the fog and smoke; the Halloween girl drinks more blood from the veins of another man. Not sure if they were willing donors or victims without warning that she was thirsting her hunger. The kind of thing that could be told of the Halloween Girl is that her love for vampirism is what makes her so frightening, even from this point of view I see her. And when one watches her feed one can hear the daemons ticking within the mind; the horrors as they tick and the madness that fades in the circles of nightmares. Within the seas of people dancing in the darkness one hears the Halloween Girl walking around; and in her walking around the other men disappear without warning –– but when they see her, blood is always dripping from her lips. While the blood drips –– the one can hear the demons….ticking…ticking….ticking….ticking still within the mind.
"What I learned of the Halloween Girl is that she was a descendant of Elizabeth Bathory; and from them she would drink of the blood of men so she would remain young," one had commented to me after pulling me aside, "the rest of the people she drank from are in the hospital because she drank too much of them. The blood she drank from had a strong alcohol content. She carries a razor blade in her purse so she could open a few veins." That what was I wondered in the mind when she was on the floor dressed as she would appear from the Neo-Victorian times; the Halloween Girl was looking on within eyes that were without a soul though she was very much alive. Though she had the appearance of a vampire –– she was very much human, the vampire in appearance to those in the old vampire movies. How she drank the blood was something that left a disturbing notion in the mind of what lived there in the mind of hers.
There I stand watching the Halloween Girl drinking without end –– wondering what the hell is in her mind that she would go and drink the blood of another human being. The mind that I heard with the demons ticking…..still ticking….as it would play in the mind as another nightmare; it would be while it ticks where she would feed upon the blood that she opened the veins to. That where they told before the eyes of the Halloween Girl, when she looked upon the guy that she was eyeing – inviting them over to dance with her, then opening up a vein with razor blade so she could drink from them. One could hear them as the clock ticks……ticking…….ticking……ticking still as in the mind the demons are telling of what is going on next. As she drank the person acted light headed –-– almost if they gave two quarts of blood. While the music got louder the blood was something to be seen, and the question of where it is all at was the thing that stirred within the questions.
"Why are you doing this?" I thought to myself when I saw her drinking on another, that the words to find for what she is doing….utterly disturbing. That being someone who has that Christian background thinking, what the hell, or why the hell is she doing something of this nature? The horrors that stir in the eyes that I watch…….all the ticking……still ticking…….ticking……as it would tick in the mind as I watch this nightmare before me. Even when one sees her dancing –– the horror around them proceeds to grow as she proceeds to drink. The question of what stands in the mind, where is all the blood? The only blood that is seen is coming from her lips. One cannot begin to understand or make sense of the reasons why she would drink blood if she is a human.
Though it would lay within the page of history of Elizabeth Bathory, the woman who killed a number of woman and bathed in their blood to remain young. Perhaps that or the one of the woman who was sent to the place of Hades, though this was what comes to mind when I see the Halloween Girl drinking blood on the dance floor. As she moved in a Middle Eastern type belly dance – the blood was dripping from her lips. The blood dripping from her lips slowly but one cannot tell how much blood came off her lips.
Though I cannot tell of the horrors seen within the room––-as the music grown much louder, the things within my mind as they see the demons. But when I walked outside of the actual place that the Halloween Girl stood, I felt her looking back at me like she knew I was trying to get away from her. Though it would be from the horrors within that hear the ticking…….still ticking as the mind dwells within the horrors as they become, from them when the Halloween Girl drinks the blood of the ones who were willing to give it to her. Though as one heard "Bela Legosi Is Dead" in the background, the blood began to flow when she drank from the wounds of an opened vein. It was if she knew that the vein was pulsing and waiting to be cut open with her cold steel. She not only carried a razor blade, but she kept a ceremonial knife with her, no one saw this one because it was hidden within a hairbrush but when she saw a man she wanted to drink from she would have them expose their arm and she would cut a vein. Deeper she would cut and more of the crimson fluid would flow, darker it would get as well when it cuts further into the vein –– exposing a few arteries but not cutting them. When their veins pulsed the blood one continued to hear the louder ticking……..ticking……still ticking while the blood poured from their veins.
Their warmness of the arm across her lips as she drank, then pulled out a metal bottle that would normally be used for whiskey and put it to the opened vein. From the opened vein she would allow the blood to fill that bottle –– for her latter thirst of the satanic fluid. One could see the warm fluid flow into cold steel. As the music growled in the background, the crimson flow filled the bottle, donor by donor –– each vein she sliced open continued to fill the flask. From the filling of the flask, the blood flowed freely from their veins –– and more she drained them, the younger she felt. That she had a ritual in effect with their blood but one could not be certain of what that was –– that she had to drink the blood of the opposite sex to retain her youth. In the retention of her youth, the blood shall flow and mix with alcohol.
The smell of the old blood and alcohol was enough to make someone ill as the flow of it mixed with the liquor. And from the thirst seen before me that the Halloween Girl continues to get her fill; while she gets her fill the mood of the club got a bit darker –– because they were becoming aware of what was going on around them. That they knew of the growing horror, the horror that was the bloodline of Elizabeth Bathory. Her looks were that of a model but what she did to remain that way was so vile that one cannot find the words to describe it. That what she did was in the same practice of Bathory; but no one really knew if she kept a bathtub full of blood that she bathed in. That when she takes that flask of blood and mixes it with alcohol, it would be if she was making a potion for her youth. That she might have been older than she was –– for instance she might be forty one but looked the age of nineteen or even twenty years of age. No one knew how she was able to do something like that –– the kind of power she got from drinking the potion she would make off the blood. Perhaps studying either the books of history about Elizabeth Bathory or Morgana La Fey.
In a varied form of observations I am making a mental record of in my head would come about to be outright frightening. Of the act that the Halloween Girl had done was an abomination before the eyes of God. That when she takes the blood……this mind ticks……..ticking……..ticking still as what lives in the nightmares of the psyche as one makes the mental journal page. Inside the mind one sees her drinking and while the woman drank……the mind ticks…….ticking………still ticking……as it would be within the mind while the Elizabeth Bathory drank. That it would become the darkness that lives in the mind and the sanity lost within the thirst for the human blood –– and in the drenched smell of alcohol which would have a smell of old death. The kind of death that follows from the after decay, the kind that follows from the final deposit of fecal matter –– but it would be from the blood that smelled the strongest when combined with alcohol, almost had the resemblance of piss. That from a blade that she would open the skin with; she took the blood and drank as it was a perverse ceremony.
Even from them she felt the pulsing of their hearts while the blood flowed into the silver flask. That even when she wasn't a vampire, the harpy was one in the acts that she did was blasphemous in nature. In both the eyes of man and the eyes of God they appeared in the blasphemy of mankind. Damnation upon her in form of a nightmare forsaken by her youth, "this is my blood drink it all of you. This is my body, take it and eat it –– each and every one of you." In the words I kept hearing of the sermons of my teen years, play out in my mind as I ask the questions of why a person would drink the blood of another. That in the name of God –– how could one perform such a blasphemy in HIS eyes? |
This was written a month after going to Convergence 10, I wanted to do a Gothic story akin to