Happy Halloween – Dark Literature by Spyder Collins

My dear readers,

For those of you who celebrate Halloween we have three pieces written by Spyder Collins. Literary Revelations wishes you a Happy Halloween.

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A Gypsy’s Song

As I stand here today
naked and abysmal
I know the end is near
I don’t dread the day
cold and forlorn
along the specter’s way
Romani sings
through the ashen tombs
of light and amity
never to bloom
years are gone
as life is too
but she will always be
in the somber skies
drifting upon azure seas
rays of hope indeed
my heart will sing
a solemn song
until the time
specter comes home

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Life in the Darkness

My dissidence
I must concede
is entwined
in shadowed light
& utter darkness
you must see
she is my comfort
& without her
I am on the edge
(if you dare)
peel the layers
& you will find me
not that you were
actually looking
she is though
& in her darkness
the eerie shadows
of blight, this light
you will find
is agonizing
set me free
to reel in the night

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A Shadow Across Heaven

Chains rattle and tears flow. Blood trickles from cracked wounds once healed then reopened. Whispers scurry in darkness, hushed tones murmuring from one end of the abyss to the other, but never return to their source. A threadbare body dangles from shackles; wrists and ankles bound atop an ancient makeshift crucifix.

 Ebony as deep and absolute as death swirls around The One; The One who whimpers within the cruel grasp of the malevolent. A shudder shakes the darkness. The One is not alone.

 “Hello?” a meek voice calls.

 “Hello—hello. Please help me.” The One who hangs looks up. Hopeful through the veil, The One senses promise and renewed vigor, if only for a moment.

 “What are you doing up there?”

 A shimmer of light rips like chiffon through the darkness. It splinters into a hundred threads, revealing a blinding glow.

 “Who’s there?” Chains rattle, and eyes squint as the purity burns.

 “I am known as Graceful Charity.” From the light, a small girl emerges.

 “What?”

 “My name is Graceful Charity, and you are?”

 The One who hangs from the dilapidated wood squirms. “I am—?”

 The girl raises her hand, waves, and the light dims. She watches The One as he slowly reopens his eyes. “You have been there for such a long time that you do not remember who you are?” she asks, her inquiry thick with astonishment.

 “I—” He thinks for a moment. “I am Phen.”

 The girl smiles. “Phen, it is my pleasure to meet you,” she chirps, offering her hand as a greeting.

 Phen stares down at her. He tries to motion to his hands but hasn’t the strength. His head hangs lifeless, chin resting on his sunken chest. “I cannot,” he says morally bankrupt reply.

 The girl examines Phen and nods. “I see that now.”

 Phen struggles with his head, trying to look at the girl. She acknowledges his difficulty and obliges him by stepping closer.

“Before, when I was able to lift my head, there was this incredible light. Though I could not look directly at it, I could feel its warmth. What was it?” Phen asks.

 The girl tilts her head to one side. She gazes into Phen’s eyes. They lack vibe, the luster that one expects from the living. It is as if he is…dead.

 “Why do you look at me so?”

 “Who are you?”

 “I am Phen.”

 Silence bleeds into the conversation. An uncanny stillness arises. He notices the darkness that quivers around her. It shakes as if it fears her, or perhaps it is pressing against her aura, pushing for entry so that it may engulf her, too.

 “It is the light, isn’t it?” Phen asks.

 “That what?” Graceful replies.

 “Keeps the darkness at bay?”

 Graceful Charity looks down at herself. She shimmers in the dim illumination that wavers like ripples in water. “This light also blinded you?”

 Phen closes his eyes and tries to turn his head away, as if in shame.

 “You act as if you are embarrassed,” she observes.

 “I am… For it is the darkness that I am, and the light I yearn for but cannot comprehend.” Phen opens his eyes and looks down at the girl.

 “Who are you—?” she asks again.

 “In whole, I do not know,” he replies.

 “What do you know?”

 “I know that the light you carry and control scares me, though I wish to know more. I know that the darkness is consuming. I know that you came out of that which I cannot explain.”

  “I am Graceful Charity,” she replies with a smile.

 “Yes, but who are you?”

 “I asked you first,” she remarks rather curtly.

 “Of course.”

 The silence returns, creeping around them like a rapidly maturing vine. Graceful peers up at Phen, and Phen gazes down at Graceful. It is, in a word, odd. A man chained to a crucifix and a small girl standing at fettered ankles.

 The atmosphere surrounding the girl pushes back against the darkness that threatens to crowd her halo. The man in shackles bleeds from the pitch that encases him.

 Graceful puts out her hand and watches Phen quiver. His skin seems to crawl, pulling away from her looming touch.

“Please do not touch me,” she hears him ask.

She does not heed his request. Instead, she wraps her small hands over his leathery skin and holds him firmly.

 She makes a face as his skin and flesh retreat from beneath her grasp. She remains, holding only the ivory bone of his ankle. “Who are you?”

 Phen shakes and writhes within his bonds. Breaking old scars and releasing a new flow of crimson, he screams, and from his mouth flows a darkness as black as death.

* * *

 Phen stands without his shackles, only considering the miracle of the girl, Graceful, at his side.

 “What are we waiting for?” she asks.

 Phen sighs before looking down. “Something I’d rather not remember.”

 “But this is who you are.”

 “Perhaps, but I don’t care to remember. Can you not see that?” Phen turns away.

 “I want to know.”

 Phen closes his eyes, attempting to wish it all away. It will not go.

 Graceful looks from Phen’s growing struggle to the rumble that grows before them. She can hear them, voices chanting and yelling words she could not make out. It was an upheaval; an angry mob cursing and yelling in a dialect not her own.

 “They come…” Graceful gazes up at Phen. He has a stern look on his face, one that replaced the worry and fright that covered his expression not a moment before. “Remember, I did not want this,” he says as he glances down at the small girl who had brought to him the memory within the darkness.

 “What is it?” Graceful asks.

 Phen looks off before them. “There,” he says.

 Graceful turns forward. Her eyes widen, and she falls to her knees, speaking the words, “Jesus, our Father.” She grovels in disbelief. Her hands clasped together; she begins to pray.

 “Get off your knees.” Phen grabs Graceful by the collar and pulls her to her feet. “I will not crucify a girl as well.”

 “But…”

 “Quiet.” Phen covers Graceful’s mouth as the crowd approaches.

 Amid the throng, a small, bearded man carries his labor upon his back. Blood trickles down his dust-dirtied face leaving streaks of black over his sorrow-filled visage. He peers past the shouting crowd who jeers and taunts the Christ, prodding Him to make God appear. Jesus looks at The One who would crucify Him, and He weeps silently.

 His blue eyes gaze at Graceful. She can’t bear the sight of the sorrow that fills His eyes as He waits for the deed. She turns away.

 Phen nudges her. “You wanted this. You brought me here to know. Now you must watch it.”

 “The Christ falls to His knees,” someone in the crowd taunts.

 The mob rises to a frenzy, beating Christ and cursing His Father’s name. Phen grabs the cross and helps Jesus to His feet. “Come,” Phen directs. “It is time.”

 Silence arrives on the wind that blows in from the four corners. The crowd is gone, and Graceful feels the pangs in her gut and the tears that burn her cheeks. She stands at the bottom of a small knoll. She looks up at Phen who hammers as tears streak down his face. By his side, four soldiers are positioned, mocking Christ and Phen who cries before Him. Graceful feels Phen’s agony and loneliness. Perceives the abysmal emptiness that fills his soul at that moment, and she understands who he is.

 Christ does not cry or wallow as He is put upright. His eyes peer to the Heavens above, and Graceful knows. She watches her Father for a moment, watches His agonizing movements as His lips move in prayer while He bleeds upon the cross. She continues to observe until she remembers, He is God, and her eyes should never lie upon Him.

 She looks over at Phen who wipes the blood and tears from his cheeks. The soldiers kick at him, spitting upon Phen, claiming the false god, then go about their duty, waiting for Jesus to die.

 She walks up the knoll to him. She places her hand on his shoulder, and his skin crawls and shuns her, but she does not release him.

* * *

 Graceful weeps at the feet of Phen who hangs from the cross that bears the blood of Christ. She looks up at him. The tears remain, and the blood trickles anew. “Forgive me,” she remarks.

 “I cannot.” He is solemn in his reply.

 “Would you like to know who I am?” Graceful steps back so Phen will not have to raise his head.

 “Yes. At least give me that much,” he replies.

 The light overcomes the darkness. The abyss brightens to reveal the countryside. Rolling knolls atop desert plains appear and there, before Christ, he kneels. Phen stands abruptly, and the soldiers near him hurry alongside.

 “What is it?” one of them asks.

 “Is it the Messiah?” the other questioned. Then they both break into laughter at Christ who hangs on the cross, awaiting His fate.

 “No,” Phen whispers.

 At the base of the knoll, Graceful stands. Her virgin-white gown moves fluidly with the faint breeze. She expresses a guarded smile as she looks up at Phen. He returns nothing more than an angry stare.

 “Your choice, Phen,” her delicate voice carries to him. “You decide if He dies.”

 The soldiers look down at the base of the knoll and then at one another. “Crucify him. Or join Him on the next cross,” one of them commands.

 Phen looks away from Graceful, then toward Christ. His Father…the Savior. Phen returns his attention to Graceful. She smiles and motions for him to decide.

 “Is this man the Messiah?” Phen asks her.

 The two soldiers look again to the bottom of the knoll, and as before, they see nothing.

 “You decide, Phen,” her voice whispers to his soul.

 He steps back, hammer and spike weighing heavy in his hand. “This man who lies before us is God.” Phen looks up at the soldiers. “Yes, He is the Messiah.”

 Jesus says nothing. He lies in wait for His destiny.

 Phen looks back to Graceful. She is gone. Only a small gathering of prismatic wild flowers remains in her place.

 He drops the spike and hammer. They lay at his feet. The One who calls Himself Jesus declares, “It is so written. I am to die on the cross for the sins of man.”

 They are alone. The soldiers vanished as Graceful Charity did, leaving only two more patches of pristine flowers.

 “Not by my hand, you will not. I will not spend eternity as I was.” Phen offers a hand to the Messiah, who refuses it.

 “This is your destiny, as mine is to die upon the cross.”

 “No. There is a greater fate for me, Jesus. Yes, I acknowledge you but ask your forgiveness, I will not commit the atrocity.” Phen kneels, taking Jesus’ hand in his. He kisses the bloodied knuckles of his Savior.

 “You mustn’t! You must fulfill your destiny.”

 Phen stands. “I cannot.”

 “Father…Father, have this man do as you wish.” Tears begin to flow from Jesus’ eyes.

 “It was your angel who set me free.” Phen turns from Jesus and looks down the knoll to the patch of flowers. “The child in white who harnesses the very light of Heaven. The one who calls herself Graceful Charity. She set me free.”

Phen begins his journey. He decides to seek a life along the bank of the Mediterranean, to be a fisherman, living out his days in peace. He decides this as quickly as he turned from Jesus. He leaves the Messiah, free from the cross that was to bear the burden of man. Phen walks away from his eternity in the abyss, free of the darkness that had consumed him.

* * *

 A boisterous laugh fills the darkened cavern. Phen hangs from mere slivers of muscle and tendon, which extend from his neck in elastic gore. His head is cocked to one side as he dangles, ensnared on Hell’s talon.

 A delicate voice caresses his agony in a spiteful tone that feigns innocence. “Hello, it is I.”

Phen opens his eyes as they strain against his anguish. It is her, Graceful Charity.

“I—I don’t understand,” he murmurs in painful torment.

 “There is nothing for you to understand, Phen.”

 A thunderous voice bellows through the veil of black. “A thank you is, however, in order,” it spews from unseen lungs just before it roars a lust-filled laugh.

 “Thank you?”

 Phen watches as Graceful moves back into the shadows, her virgin-white gown consumed by the black. “Yes. Because of you, Hades is filling with the forsaken. Overflowing with the souls of all His children as the Scriptures remain unfulfilled. “…thank you, Phen.” The delicate voice trails off into the abyss, leaving Phen to wallow in his revelation.

End

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