Along the moonlit stride

Along the moonlit stride as the moon gazed down upon me,

I looked upon its gentle touch caressing the very thoughts upon which I dream,

the ground beneath where every step reflects every thought within my consciousness,

forever looking forward, never to look back towards the daylight that lay behind,

life upon this moonlit stride is diverse, rich with the birds yawn as they chirp into their nesting,

I place myself towards the night in hope to reach my star,

trying to look so far amongst the multitudes keeping order and light,

finding my own celestial being where neither time nor fortitude decay the most sacred of promises,

where my honour and chivalry is recognised and never questioned,

as I stare back down to find a lonely bridge,

I sympathise, in the shadow waiting for someone to make use of you,

I gaze upon the distance of the moonlit stride to find a silhouette,

who unmistakably wishes to grace me with their presence?

a divine shape,

a sight, even on the most auspicious of moonlit strides, is a natural beauty,

one of which even our mother nature cannot imagine to shape, measure or even comprehend,

as I move closer to the silhouette, the shape becomes more solid,

step into the moonlit stride, I ask,

you grace me with a sight most eager that I should chance to provide you with deliverance,

she strides forward as the moonlit stride bedazzles my eyes upon such a breathtaking sight,

the eyes of a deep lake in the most romantic of settings with the soul in the depths and the mist layered above,

dare I say to you that on the touch of hands poised in such readiness,

that your caress is vastly more appreciating and gentle then that of the moons gaze,

your touch, so gentle and so smooth that each brush stroke across the not so humbling of faces,

fills me with the very thoughts in which I dream.

into the forest and into a clearing, the leaves beneath our feet,

as your eyes gaze into mine you notice my colour change,

drawing you nearer to a kiss and a dance on the moonlight sonata,

along the moonlit stride as the moon gazed down upon me,

I looked upon its gentle touch caressing the very thoughts upon which I dream,

J’oïme à tous, ma faumme belle

symphony of my life in monologues (part two - control from the abyss)

I couldn't possibly comprehend the position I found myself in. How this creature, discarded from the very dark and damned abyss of hell, could possibly delve into the intricate circuitry and mechanics of my mind? How, in the malicious creation of one night, did I acquire such a travesty to any person? What was the horrid intention of this voice? Then a growl appeared with the most intense vigour given by any entity. The overwhelming bombardment of heat felt like the biblical coming of hell fire and brimstone creating a monolithic fallout across my brain.

Good Lord it felt as if its entanglement of long and shadowy claws were scratching every nerve, every lobe and quite possibly every passage throughout my mind. Even attempting to claw its way out of my skull. I clutched and I grasped in terror, frustration and desperation as the demon growled. It's echo would be bouncing off the inner surfaces of my skull. Oh how it ached and burned.

My screams were only a modicum of the terror I was experiencing. As I flail around it seemed my bed could no longer contain me. Over the side I fell into a heap upon the harsh carpet. The searing and crippling pain only masked the demons motives.

Again it growled.

"You are mine to control. Your mind will burn and your blood will boil as I entice you to do my bidding. Your bones will be set ablaze by my fury. Eventually, after I consume every morsel of your soul, you will be my puppet."

As this demon threatened and tortured my mind by it's disturbing monologue, the effects on my body were violently outward. My eyes began to flit and flicker with a speed that would seem as a erratic blur to the naked eye. My blood felt trapped within the peculiar vessels of which it would pass. Beginning to boil in its profound attempt to dissolve the vein structure and escape as most would escape captivity, oppression and imprisonment. My muscles felt white hot and immediately seized up ready to explode with the incapability of containing pressures. The joints became inflexible and oddly independent with the dislocated lack of control of which most, I included, would find disturbing leaving another sensation of helplessness. With the little strength I could muster at such a time I crawled towards the Royal Standard which hung at my bedside. Attempting in such desperation to find peace. I pleaded and begged with God upon the crown of the divine flag. Hoping that God and my Majesty's protection would see me through this time of deep incapability and indisposition. My pain could no longer be contained. I screamed and sobbed as the apparition, now gliding in front of me, raised its cold, emotionless finger, pointing towards my frightened stare of petrification. The shrieking laughter protruding from its forever hungry and blood-lustful lips became dampened as it flew into my body.

I contorted, writhed and roared in agony as I could feel the entire entity explore and burrow throughout every crevice and every detail of my body. Every muscle pulsated and throbbed as the shadow buried itself into my tissue like a parasite draining the life from me. My vision seemed filtered through the evil, macabre and red mindset of the demon.

For a brief moment, I could see as this gargoyle saw.

My breathing dulled.

My heart pumped with one hard pushed beat.

Then complete darkness.

After that thrilling and spine chilling first night. The described control and parasitic nature of this creature engulfed my ability to govern my own actions. My mind began to twist and stretch itself thin after some time from that fateful night onwards.

Three years since, I have moved from a bustling, developing town where all whom I love reside. I had abandoned them, forced to live in rural Gloucestershire with my oppressors. Ah for the sake of my audience I will change oppressors to the more kinder and more unconditionally (supposedly) loving term called family.

I preferred the developing town where there was a multitude of exciting possibilities in which one could entertain themselves. Whether it was the forever welcomed possibility of visiting a friend or heading to the commercial centre where one could browse to their hearts content. Today, however, is the usual and mundane day in the country where there is nothing to excite my fancies and the only task there is to be done is running errands for my family or partaking in other household jobs. This feels, to me, more like slavery. With no one around I feel more alone.

The solitude itself never helps rid me of this creature. The only entity around my person I have to engage in conversation with. As you read you may giggle and chuckle at this pitiful tale pondering whether life on my part cannot surely be that bad? The above is only a vague description. When delved into further it appears to become more pitiful.

Today being one of those mundane days, I get ready to leave the house running an errand for my dearest Mother. For today's excursion to the local convenience shop I am wearing my black tailored trousers with the matching blazer in the ensemble. The tee shirt in question is grey with a yellow collar and purple buttons. I often laugh at the state of my own eccentricity as the most stereotypically of Englishmen will either despise or revere. My trusty golden pocket watch in my right pocket and my pearlised walking stick in my right arm.

To also disclose my readers why I dress and look the way I do is because of the wonderfully outward and often socially unaccepted case of individualism where I will generally do as I please and no one else will tell me what I can or can't do. In the case to this creature I should perhaps change that to no Human will tell me what I can or can't do. Then again in the case of this creature I don't have a choice in the above. As I make my way to the door my mother halts me to no doubt, as mother frequently does, unrelentingly waffle on about some trifle for five minutes when most could condense it into one phrase or line if written. My mother is a short, rather domineering and a rather unpredictable character. She has a styled haircut in the region of halfway between her neck and her shoulders with dark almost black hair. Her features are wonderfully generic, her dark brown eyes are widely spread apart to the far side of her face and a wide, deceptively cheery smile. My mother also where's the branded make up from her employees, Chanel. This make up in my humble opinion can be too exaggerating of her features, yet stylish all the same. The lipstick she often wears is often varied from deep or bright shades of red. Her mascara and eye shadow creates eyes which are even darker. The tired look my mother has doesn't really help with this but where credit is due, she tries.

As she greets me she asks me to, amongst deciphering the waffle, "head to the convenience store and purchase a couple of bags of sugar and some baguettes for the family lunch".

"How would I be purchasing it mother? I have exhausted my books." I reply.

"Oh you just have to be difficult don't you?" In the most aggressive of tones, my mother doesn't request to people, she barks at them. "You're such hard work and so demanding, don't do anything for me!" In her most colloquial manner of speaking. As she said this, she moved from the stairs beside the house entrance and along the elongated corridor beside my bedroom door.

"I'm just about t-t-to head into no-n0-not much of a t-town for you!" I retorted, my stutter slightly betraying me. "cunning sentence for someone who can easily contradict you" I stated with some anger, oddly a time where my stutter no longer ails my conversations.

"I'm not impressed by the use of your long words" my Mother exclaims patronisingly.

"Sorry mother there isn't a lot to impress looking at you". I snarled "If you recollect, mother dearest, you will memorise and understand that you purchased elocution lessons for me to expel my stutter, like it worked?. If I didn't use such well phrased semantics to your dismay and displeasure then you have spent valuable money on an invaluable cause it seems! As for your patronising slurs, there is only so much your colloquial wit can take you? It's because of your meddling claiming to get me better that I'm in this situation in any case!" I said with my hand clutched tight upon the front door of my residence. My anger was about to burst from breaking point. I can feel it's bitter sting ebb away at my mind. The demon scratching away at my mind, pulsating every thought and every energy that should have favourably been repressed. I can't express the rage that set an inferno across my mind. Ironic the choice of words considering the dark layered abyss that dwell across my mind. Only through the darkest of all creeds and the dense black of all atmospheres in the blindness of sight, can the bright, intense heat and the blinding fires of all hatred and anger truly exist. To describe only the prey about to be ambushed by something superior in class waiting in the darkness.

'You're using my "meddling" as an excuse to stay away from work'. Mother came to a halt after that word. Or it could have been the last word I could hear and remember.

From that fateful last word came to me the monster who has infected me since that first night. My eyes shut.

The door handle gave way from my crushing grip.

The demonic voice echoed from every corner of my consciousness. "You can't let her get away with such a travesty. Her lips should be silenced. Use my power, my strength and my glory to hold her tongue" each whisper of that serpentine hissing became a very attractive possibility indeed. Its authoritative assertion was a power I could respect beyond the authority of my Mother.

I opened my eyes. The red filter was all I could see. The power I could now feel, taste, and hear made every vein on my arms expand and bulge from the depths of my tissue. The burning sensation from my mind was similar to the pleasant, soothing burn of a matured single malt whiskey. Oh the power of how I felt. Beyond the power of my other maladies, of which I will divulge in another tale, I felt strong for the first time in three years. more active than any activity I had taken part in.

It opened my eyes.

The time around me began to slow down and fluctuate as the red glare of my vision fixed upon my mother. It appeared that the ground I had covered from the entrance to the doorway my Mother was standing in had taken less than a second. The slow nature of this endeavour had truly made me see what I had become. In the red glare I could feel my Mother resist my arms as I held her. Her strength was inferior and automatically no match for my own. I raised her into the air and threw her across my bedroom. The red glare had vanished and I saw her fall in real time. Her body fell like a crescendo upon my floor and her gasp of "I'm sorry" as she hit the wall. The demonic laughter from my lips had silenced. I looked upon what I had done in horror. I could only say "you think that helped me?" and left to run her errand. I reacquired my walking stick and left the house hurriedly the mull over what happened. It was all a complete blur. What had happened exactly? The shock and wave of bewilderment shook me into a frightened state. From my door I turned left to make it onto the pavement. The beauty and wonder of the Cotswold stone on every house cared very little as the depravity of this situation had made me wonder, what had I become? This Mr Hyde recently discovered nature had thrown me into a daze and bewilderment. The path and every step reflected my thoughts.

Tap tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Tap tap ta... Searing pain The pleasant burn replaced with one of pure punishment. I fell to the floor as my walking stick fell from my relinquishing grip. Screaming from beating my head and crying from the gaping inferno that now disgraces my mind. The demonic growl, ever present, and screaming in its frustrated and exasperated tone was clearly one of anger and anguish.

"Why didn't you finish the job?". I screamed from the pain as it bound my muscles and extremities fiercely close to one own liking. "Finish the job, silence her forever or suffer as they suffered every night!". This drained whatever blood was left in my face. my blood ran cold again with that most unpleasant of sorrowful sensations. I fought back with thought, powerful thought.

"I listened to you once, something I shall never indulge in doing again!"

"It felt like power!, Something you haven't felt in a long time! And you liked it!"

"I'm not listening!"

"You have chosen and thus appointed yourself more suffering!"

I picked up my walking stick, dusted myself down and walked with a brisk pace. The long walk was not at all pleasant. From the passages in the back of my mind began the dampened quiet sound of the women and children screaming as I walked. This raised tears from my ducts and was sent pouring down my face. A look of remorse, depression and heartbreak.

The tap tap tap of my steps brought me to a crossing. Again time began to slow as a small hatchback, it was azure blue and looked recently bought. It drove passed the corner and heading towards my position. The driver was young, possibly only recently acquired her license.

She was attractive, blonde and staring at me in the deepest look of inquisition. Her complexion was cold, a face looking dry from the weather. her lips pursed outwards with the wondering look in her eyes as to what was about to happen. Nothing in her inquisitive, green, knowledge seeking eyes could possibly detect what was wrong with me or the secret that I had concealed within this hollow casing. Nothing in them was going to anticipate my next move.

The screaming became deafening to me. If anyone else were to hear it I'm certain that they wouldn't stand it either. Even more unwanted on my part as I knew what vision the sounds depicted.

I closed my eyes.

"If you want to be rid of me that badly then end it! Go on it's so simple, end it! End it! END IT!"

The authoritative tone was a welcome possibility. I had wanted to be rid of this monster. What it made me do. Ending this vile beast back into whence it came with a most definitive step would help me and unburden my soul for a hopeful Repentance. My arms out wide, my legs together.

The slow feeling of one leg out stretching.

This next step should end it the car coursing towards my outstretched leg.

hopefully with this next step. It should be the step towards the gates and the visage of heaven.

Waiting to greet my saviour.

The demon growled, "go".

The Visage of Heaven

To describe the visage of Heaven,

I would first need to describe my perfect woman.

You're body is a well shaped shell which excites the very attraction,

longing for a taste.

Something that can easily satisfy my very sense of the word pleasure,

yet something that cannot quench my hunger.

Something that can never cease to stun my nerves.

The way your body moves hypnotises me into desires that sends my imagination into a frenzy.

Your veneer is, to me, like staring directly into the gates of Heaven,

where your complexion is carved by angels,

Eyes which although appear dark,

bore under my skin and ease my fragile and broken soul into the warm sensation,

given by your affection,

your kiss which will simply expel all the horrid and dark demons,

which dwell in my mind.

My love greatly extends to you as an exorcist from my demons.

The cure named love which epitomises every aspect of your body,

and the personality within enhances your external qualities,

which give you even more credit to which your valuable modesty,

limits the sins of self indulgence.

Every aspect of your demeanour changes my insanity,

chaos and ill repute into a humbled gentleman,

who will happily be your seigneur to govern you,

when you need guidance,

and to bow to your very will when summoned.

You affect me greatly as only the divine should.

My love,

My hope,

My Goddess,

My saviour.

<3

symphony of my life in monologues (part one - creation of malcontent)

The day passes slowly. Dragging its own heels waiting for the time to replace the pressure on ones shoulders and unwind in whichever manner one wishes to exhibit. Whether it be a casual, dull or most preferred, by myself, a refined evening where one tastes delightful soothing teas, as such of the almost medically healing properties of Earl Grey, and listens to the works of genius from a better more appropriate time. The work of Chopin's Nocturnes caressing and employing its massaging and gentle sorcery on my own heavy hard of hearing ears and a most fragile and disillusioned of all minds. Hearing the minor tones of Op9 No2 gracing my mind into an almost wonderful euphoria where my imagination will allow me to daydream and elope with the rhythm creating a foremost path in my mind. The notes and symbols used to denote and beautifully codify this great work causes me to pray silence and follow the path in a daze twirling and da, da-ing the tune of each elegant and graceful step just as an unwitting and graceless Dandelion seeds float around on a breezy summers day waiting to settle and grow into a new flower. By following this elusive haze my mind snaps unpleasantly back into the dull and monotonous reality and realising the time, one realises that it is time to retire.

By days end and nights commencing. the convergence of time and tiredness can catch anyone off guard longing for the chance to slumber. Grabbing my pearlised handled walking stick, one begins the most straining and arduous trip causing my legs to frail and wither and throb with the struggle to descend to my quarters. stopping with time to rest a while and ponder over the articles I wish to write whether being politically or romantically, I do not mind. With this in mind however, the thought of writing gives me more strength to painlessly walk and take each step more and more easily.

Yet, after endless moments of forethought, now it is time to rest and visit a world where the mind creates a view entirely of our own whim, wit and feats of impossibility that only in this creation can become possible. Feats such as soaring over many great frozen covered peaks in search of reaching and conquering the highest cloud. Feats such as delving into great oceans and reaching it's dark and solitary depths in search of what souls lay beneath the veil of darkness. The story I am about to tell is neither of those things. This dream of creation is only something the devil could possibly inspire. This will be unpleasant, dark, evil and, if one is in the appropriate frame of mind, distressing. Hark my audience do I dare tease you with such malcontent? For the relief of my own private hell, I must.

As the aggression of this aforementioned creation is one my mind has unwillingly shown and failed to control. That each dying moment that I lay awake gives me the only gift of dread as I know what awaits this night as this unrelenting power has teased, tormented and tortured my mind and tested my sanity for three consecutive years on every consecutive night. For this I shall describe the first. As my head had hit the pillow it began to throb. It frightened me. As I had instinctively curled up descending into the darkness, fear lead to anger which hate soon followed with my blood boiling and my temper wild. This frenzy began throwing me from side to side crying in a pure mixture of the epitomes of fear and hate. My bed attempted to cushion each blow with a tiresome effort yet as this frenzy carried on, the tiresome effort failed and falter like many men marching on Moscow in the dead of winter. Suddenly into the darkness gasps a heavy breath as if appearing from an underwater adventure where, in the highest of hopes, you didn't drown in the strongest of currents and in the most unforgiving and the most merciless of tides.

From this gasp I, in turn, checked my surroundings. I found myself in a small room, perhaps no bigger than the standard living room in a local apartment. The room I found myself in is dark only letting in the light from the full moon. This gave the room the most eerie of sensations which would undoubtedly send a shiver down the spine of any man. Amongst the low intensity of light and seen only the dark silhouettes of the contents it was easy to tell that this room had been disturbed. When my eyes eventually caught focus, I glimpsed over to find the Oak and formerly ornate coffee table had been overturned with broken and splintered legs and joints. What had the strength to splinter oak? The leather chairs which sat adjacent appeared frayed, torn and, what appeared to be, deliberate and violent slashes and cuts made upon it. despite the tarnished look and besmirched blasphemy on the contents of which somebody had treated this room it, however, was not my main concern. The time to which I had to ponder still became distracted as I tried to make myself aware of my surroundings. Towards the white and wonderfully designed and crafted fireplace and mantelpiece, which was intact which of course I had been taken aback. Why leave the fireplace and mantelpiece? I glanced above to find a damaged clock. The time at which it had stopped was 10:53 PM. This couldn't possibly be right? To my utter bewilderment I had to extract my trusty golden pocket watch. The golden shield upon it glistened in the moonlight which had fervently embedded my trust in my old time telling friend. The pocket watch pointed out to me that the amongst the darkness the hour and minute hand clearly shown to me the time of 10:55. The feeling of bewilderment and confusion had soon disappeared. My blood ran cold and I could scarcely imagine the look upon my face as it felt as if all the colour and temperature had gone. This new feeling was dread and fear which I could feel as clear as day. Had the time had actually been in broad daylight and display visibility beyond a few feet in front of my face then perhaps and perchance it would have steadied my nerves. Only 2 minutes had passed since the clock had stopped and this terror had began. This petrifying chill had only allowed me to ponder. Who or What could have done this? Was I alone? The next thing that had happened made me think that those questions were answered. Alas, they were not. The frame above the clock on the mantel had fallen next to my feet. Despite jumping a few feet into the air, I employed an air of child like curiosity or even more accurately adult like stupidity. I had been rather inquisitive as to what picture had fallen. Perhaps it could give me a clue as to the inhabitants of this room who had recently vacated in what I could imagine to be as panic. The picture as I turned the frame over revealed to me the wanderer above the sea of fog by Caspar David Friedrich. I peered in awe at the wonder of this piece. The detail and awe inspiring view, oh only if this picturesque scene were reality over powered me. Its fine detail allowed me to follow every brush stroke in appreciation and imagination. Before I could seemingly daze at this piece as if it were Chopin's music, a shadow moved in the corner of my eye.

I frantically turned around to be met with the sound of a genderless and dare I say it? An almost demonic growl. A matter of course of some concern. I would be foolish if I did not say I was scared. The door situated on the right of the mantel had moved further open. With this flitting shadow following it out the door. I cared very little for the pain in my lags for this was a matter of urgency. In pursuit of this shadow, fearing what it would do to others, following it passed every flight of stairs and out of the building and into a dark and soulless clearing. The mist had lifted itself from the ground subtly giving no end to its eerie façade. This demon appeared more solid and more physical as it glided mysteriously through the fog. The laughter protruding from its infinite evil seemed to shrine like an obelisk echoing from the very depths of hell and projected from every one of its seven circles. its voice could not do anything except empower my curiosity. The echoes within my mind shook me as I ran when it turned. the only physical demeanour by this creature was its soulless and sinister red glowing eyes, it was as if I was staring into every sin I had ever committed, oh the infamy, it could only force me to memorise actions that I shall divulge in a later tale. the rest was a dark and foreboding void of a shell. The type of malcontent that only the Devil could give the time of day for. The shadow turned and growled away as I started to chase it again through the dark and narrow underpasses that would lead to the main town. This tunnel was very familiar as if I had passed through it on many an occasion, This was where I used to live! How busy it was in the day but this is the most deserted I have ever seen it at night. There would usually be those exiting the local Pubs at this hour but not a sign. It was too quiet for ones liking but to the dismay of this demon I gave chase. "Give chase if you dare, in the end I shall consume you" despite the demonic bellowing and the aggressive and threatening nature of such darkness I wouldn't give in. At the other side of the underpass where the walls were covered in the artwork of the local miscreants and the local authorities had been yet been willing to repair the lighting. However once I reached the other side from the silent, vacant, desolate and abandoned estate. The sight at which I was gazing made my eyes widen and bulge in absolute fear for the scene in front of me was no longer both a commercial and residential area. It was now an inferno where all the the buildings lay engulfed in an unrelenting tide of fire and a chokingly abundant volley of constant smoke where the skyline burn with a layer of orange and heat topped off with the billowing smoke above which could now block off the moon and its light. The worse was yet to come.

In a grave attempt to try and place this terrible sight behind me, I followed the demon across the Broadway until it an I came to a complete stop. I watched as it raised those shadowy hands above its head with burning properties on either side, surely this couldn't get any worse?

From the raised hands by the dark and evil veneer. The answer came to me in the most morose fashion. Green lightening soared from its fingers and into the sky with its most god awful roar which began to shake the earth beneath my feet knocking me to the floor. To be heard next was something completely opposite to the works of Chopin. That sound was the loud and amplified screaming which would cripple my body into a defensive ball hearing the screams of burning women and children. Screams that should not be uttered from the innocent lips of which they should be protected. As the screams persisted, The men appeared to be thrown out of each nearby and distant houses within my sight when they fell upon the path outside their properties, the pavement managed to knock the poor fellows into a state of disorientation and near lifelessness. The laughter from this demon appeared to only seal their fates. Every doomed and helpless man levitated into the air and their legs forced shut and clamped together. Their arms wide spread and their heads and back aligned and forced straight. This judgement day like scenario was mortifying to behold and became the point that maybe I should be engaging in prayer to make my peace with God?

As these poor men hang levitated in the air, the earth shook again revealing a shadowy cross behind each man. I only looked in horror as I grabbed the crucifix around my neck and thought "God watch over them and carry them to the light". In hope that my prayer would help. These long, dark and sharp nails lifted from the ground and simultaneously crucified each man and the screams of agony crippled me again clutching my head and attempting to fight back tears of the utmost sorrow. The agony, oh the agony as my head burned and eyes sizzle watching such a sight and feeling my very mind twist and contort with the inability to comprehend such a travesty. My ordeal was not yet over. I stood and stared at the beast. It turned and faced me. It fixed its gaze on me like a predator hunting and savouring the meal to come. It then swooped at me as the scene went Black.

A gasp!

The searing pain in my hands and head!

The screams that came from my mouth!

I opened my eyes to find such beauty, The light of the day blessing my skin and the smell of smoke, gone!

My lungs now fill the fresh air that relieves my fear and dread.

It was over.

However something didn't quite feel right? I looked around to find everything normal and in place. Nothing had been disturbed. A shadow in the corner of my eye.

The demons voice growling out.

"Can you hear me?".