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Acolyte
The Devil dropped in on a fire day parade.
I was standing at the parade route, on a hot sidewalk on a hot day. On the curb, hundreds stood around me cheering and leering. Most everyone had devil outfits on, rubber with hairy horns, widow?s peak, pointy tail and hooves. I didn?t know what to expect; I was at the Devil?s parade which was odd enough in itself. But as I realized that the oncoming rush of activity was charged with the spirit and motivation of the foul underworld, I felt the nasty sting of imaginary bugs crawling on my flesh. In the distance horns played; the notes were chromatically skewed. They didn?t mesh at all and the flowerings of the sounds erupted like blood from an old wound, torn open fresh, in gritted teeth and panic.
I was sitting on a postal box, which had been painted black for the occasion. I saw the band, coming around the street corner. The houses turned dusky red as the band passed them. The band was dressed in red and black outfits. The black appeared as flames against the red spandex background. The outfits were so tight and flimsy that I could easily make out the genitals and breasts of the band members. They were waggling them intentionally. I just began laughing - my only defense or barrier, to laugh at the parade and wave, say no more about morals or impressions. Just because the band was playing to us all in strange sounds, didn?t mean that they were necessarily all that sinister.
The band continued playing the dissonant music as they passed. Next there came a line of horses. The horses were colored red and trailed flames from their flanks. The animals appeared painted from a distance, but as they approached I could tell that their fur had been dyed, or perhaps red was the actual color of the beasts, and these equine fireballs were actually crashing up from Hell. I didn?t doubt it; I still felt comfortable in the world, everything would work itself out because that was what I was taught. I had nothing to fear.
Nothing to fear.
The riders of the horses were demons of all shapes and sizes. There was no doubt that these were not costumes. I knew these were actual demons. They rode, gouging the horses with their rusty spurs and fired shotguns at the watchers. Several of the observers clutched their chests as holes opened and red fluid dripped. The watchers didn?t die, they just looked up, and continued the frenzied cheering that was beginning to be disconcerting. Like I knew this was fun, but not this fun. There were people that were so hysterical that they were rolling and twitching on the ground, as if an epileptic fit was overtaking them. Was this a dream?
I was getting scared and I decided to leave. I turned and pushed my way through the thronging mob that solidified as I pushed through them. The press of humanity had no holes or openings. I could not escape. I got on my knees and began pushing my way through their spread legs. I didn?t care what anyone thought of me, I had to get out of there. I was pushing through successfully, both crawling and scampering on my belly, I made it out and looked over the crowd. I was finally free of that terrible scene and I could finally get home. I wanted to get home so bad I couldn?t believe it. I continued to scan the crowd in disbelief, wondering why everyone was having so much fun. I turned?
And could not feel anything in front of me, behind me the press of people, the smell of the rubber devil masks, the odor of sweat from the head of the sun and pressing of bodies over me. I was feeling tired, sitting on the black post office box. People around me began to lift me and carry me into the middle of the throng of red horses.
I screamed and tried to escape, but there were too many of them and they had me solidly. The demons were laughing and pointing at me from their horses, spitting on me. The spit burnt my skin. Their eyes were red and fluid. There were tears from the hilarity. The crowd dropped me on the street between two huge, dark red horses with black manes. The demons driving these animals dismounted and examined me. I tried to get up but couldn?t move. I tried with every ounce of strength in my body but could no more move than summon up Christ or some other useless deity to help me out of this.
I pushed, but my body felt as if it was encased in clay, helpless as the demons strode around me; one of them rubbed his chin and winked at me. My penis was growing, and my pants were dissolving. All the watchers dressed as devils began gathering around me as all my clothes began to dissolve. I was so embarrassed I couldn?t believe that no one would help me. This was too much. I needed help so bad. Why won?t anyone! I was yelling, but no words were coming out. I screamed, but it was dry, and made me cough. I again tried to move but could not. My penis was so engorged that it stood almost straight up. The demons knelt by me and one began stroking my penis. This was too much. But my utter lack of movement meant that I could do nothing. My fear began to dissolve like my clothes just did. I realized that this fear was not serving me at all. I could be afraid, or I could observe what was happening to me and try to go with it. Just to relax and see what would happen next.
Before I knew it, the demons backed away from me. Simultaneously, my penis softened, and my clothes began to reappear on me. The crowd as a whole began moving back towards the curbside, where they could safely watch the parade. This was actually beginning to be fun. I stood up and looked at the horses leaving down the street. I wonder if everywhere I turned, someone or something would bring me back to this parade. This was a good question, and I walked up the street towards the location where the event was coming from. There were black elephants, Satan in a huge carrier. I saw all manner of demonic knights and ladies, and yet, it all seemed rather amusing. They were all coming from a hole, black, but not like lack of color, like a total lack of space and energy, a rip in the fabric, and all were emerging. I knew this was the source, and the only way back to my own world, my world of waking fantasies. I mustered my courage and ran towards the blackness, before my conscious mind could stop me, then I leaped through it.
I wonder if this darkness will ever end?
I was standing at the parade route, on a hot sidewalk on a hot day. On the curb, hundreds stood around me cheering and leering. Most everyone had devil outfits on, rubber with hairy horns, widow?s peak, pointy tail and hooves. I didn?t know what to expect; I was at the Devil?s parade which was odd enough in itself. But as I realized that the oncoming rush of activity was charged with the spirit and motivation of the foul underworld, I felt the nasty sting of imaginary bugs crawling on my flesh. In the distance horns played; the notes were chromatically skewed. They didn?t mesh at all and the flowerings of the sounds erupted like blood from an old wound, torn open fresh, in gritted teeth and panic.
I was sitting on a postal box, which had been painted black for the occasion. I saw the band, coming around the street corner. The houses turned dusky red as the band passed them. The band was dressed in red and black outfits. The black appeared as flames against the red spandex background. The outfits were so tight and flimsy that I could easily make out the genitals and breasts of the band members. They were waggling them intentionally. I just began laughing - my only defense or barrier, to laugh at the parade and wave, say no more about morals or impressions. Just because the band was playing to us all in strange sounds, didn?t mean that they were necessarily all that sinister.
The band continued playing the dissonant music as they passed. Next there came a line of horses. The horses were colored red and trailed flames from their flanks. The animals appeared painted from a distance, but as they approached I could tell that their fur had been dyed, or perhaps red was the actual color of the beasts, and these equine fireballs were actually crashing up from Hell. I didn?t doubt it; I still felt comfortable in the world, everything would work itself out because that was what I was taught. I had nothing to fear.
Nothing to fear.
The riders of the horses were demons of all shapes and sizes. There was no doubt that these were not costumes. I knew these were actual demons. They rode, gouging the horses with their rusty spurs and fired shotguns at the watchers. Several of the observers clutched their chests as holes opened and red fluid dripped. The watchers didn?t die, they just looked up, and continued the frenzied cheering that was beginning to be disconcerting. Like I knew this was fun, but not this fun. There were people that were so hysterical that they were rolling and twitching on the ground, as if an epileptic fit was overtaking them. Was this a dream?
I was getting scared and I decided to leave. I turned and pushed my way through the thronging mob that solidified as I pushed through them. The press of humanity had no holes or openings. I could not escape. I got on my knees and began pushing my way through their spread legs. I didn?t care what anyone thought of me, I had to get out of there. I was pushing through successfully, both crawling and scampering on my belly, I made it out and looked over the crowd. I was finally free of that terrible scene and I could finally get home. I wanted to get home so bad I couldn?t believe it. I continued to scan the crowd in disbelief, wondering why everyone was having so much fun. I turned?
And could not feel anything in front of me, behind me the press of people, the smell of the rubber devil masks, the odor of sweat from the head of the sun and pressing of bodies over me. I was feeling tired, sitting on the black post office box. People around me began to lift me and carry me into the middle of the throng of red horses.
I screamed and tried to escape, but there were too many of them and they had me solidly. The demons were laughing and pointing at me from their horses, spitting on me. The spit burnt my skin. Their eyes were red and fluid. There were tears from the hilarity. The crowd dropped me on the street between two huge, dark red horses with black manes. The demons driving these animals dismounted and examined me. I tried to get up but couldn?t move. I tried with every ounce of strength in my body but could no more move than summon up Christ or some other useless deity to help me out of this.
I pushed, but my body felt as if it was encased in clay, helpless as the demons strode around me; one of them rubbed his chin and winked at me. My penis was growing, and my pants were dissolving. All the watchers dressed as devils began gathering around me as all my clothes began to dissolve. I was so embarrassed I couldn?t believe that no one would help me. This was too much. I needed help so bad. Why won?t anyone! I was yelling, but no words were coming out. I screamed, but it was dry, and made me cough. I again tried to move but could not. My penis was so engorged that it stood almost straight up. The demons knelt by me and one began stroking my penis. This was too much. But my utter lack of movement meant that I could do nothing. My fear began to dissolve like my clothes just did. I realized that this fear was not serving me at all. I could be afraid, or I could observe what was happening to me and try to go with it. Just to relax and see what would happen next.
Before I knew it, the demons backed away from me. Simultaneously, my penis softened, and my clothes began to reappear on me. The crowd as a whole began moving back towards the curbside, where they could safely watch the parade. This was actually beginning to be fun. I stood up and looked at the horses leaving down the street. I wonder if everywhere I turned, someone or something would bring me back to this parade. This was a good question, and I walked up the street towards the location where the event was coming from. There were black elephants, Satan in a huge carrier. I saw all manner of demonic knights and ladies, and yet, it all seemed rather amusing. They were all coming from a hole, black, but not like lack of color, like a total lack of space and energy, a rip in the fabric, and all were emerging. I knew this was the source, and the only way back to my own world, my world of waking fantasies. I mustered my courage and ran towards the blackness, before my conscious mind could stop me, then I leaped through it.
I wonder if this darkness will ever end?