mourning found Drakon once again retracing his waltzing strides his wrath heating his flesh which dripped sweating weeping through his skin falling as droplets of sizzling fatty gloom into the streets coarse sands grinding teeth flies dodged the annoyed tails of yellow boned horse skeletons collapsed hitched outside the main streets drowning trough outside the blood stained glass window sinderblock church of the Fates Drakon consumed with wrath unable to stop himself continued on determination set deep in his cold whetstone opaque eyes yet Drakon could feel a strange cracking lunatic grin fixing itself across his burnt leather on bone face the light would be waning soon vengeance was a waxing dark aeons had come Satan's chest parted both bat wings as he entered the saloon his right hand hung loosely on a level with his fancy pistol the bartender cried out rather nervously “Whiskey…… OH Shit!” then the bartender collapsed to the floor boards prostrate before the bar as if it were an altar to the Fates that had just saved his life and he was before the altar giving his regrets Satan stared at the tall flaming charismatic figure of Justice standing at the bar only for the image to blur and fade out then fade back in to show Mira naked her bloody cemetery cartoon tree spindly limbs patched with tattered pieces of her abstract autumn leaves dress flies feeding off the dried blood that had ceased its finite weeping from the bullet hole in the middle of Mira’s head that watched Satan accusingly without blinking As if the man at the bar the Fates called their Justice could see what Satan could see he laughed loudly joyously as he stepped back into Satan's vision Justice gestured at the bar followed by friendly words thrown at Satan that stung Satan's burnt leather on bone cheeks flame white “man it’s a hotty Satan stop standing in the doorway a holding back the breeze why not getz yourself to the bar Hell boy I’ll buy you a whiskey lets drink to your dead witch and bastard son” Satan didn’t move flies stagnated around him in flight Justice drunk his whiskey then refilled his hourglass with his right hand leaving his left hand hovering over his holstered six shot flaming gavel Justice laughed again a lazy charming mocking smarming sound that went with his next monotone statement “ well Satan come lately if we ain’t gonna be civil like and drink together I guess as gentlemen in disagreement, to be civil we should perhaps due…..” Justices flaming gavel cleared his holster before he’d finished the word “duel” and had his flaming gavel's barrel nose up and deadly eyeing Satan's disappearing nostrils Satan's cold whetstone opaque eyes had caught a slight shift inJustices body position Satan's right hand grabbed his fancy pistol by the scruff of its neck and fanned his fancy pistol as he threw himself back out the saloons batwings Satan's fancy pistol's trigger guard had been cut away meaning his vengeance clawing index finger was squeezing off parting lead shots before his back hit the boardwalk a shower of wooden splinters rained stakes down on Satan from Justice's shots destroying the swinging top half off the bat wings that the towns laws were carved on with Yahweh the butcher's knife when no more shots followed Satan stood up he pushed open the remaining section off the bat wings while using his right arm to holster his fancy pistol he looked at the bar to see Justice dead instead he saw his lovely Mira sitting dead on the saw dust floor a sappy blood skid mark down the altar front from where his lead nails had punctured right through her chest and out her back. Mira’s head sat at a strange angle while bees went in and out her mouth as if it were their Nectar filled hive. Satan fell to his knees at Justices black spurred boots sobbing his words out that were choking him. “ Mira love i’m so sorry, Mira , my Mira” the dream blurred out then back in © bg 2021
Month: October 2021
the doom slinger 9 act 1
the past
rehashes
deep
scratches
within the
subterranean
consciousness
records
where Satan
fossilizing
buried
the deranged
the estranged
needle bones
of his
origin
in the
underground
sewers
where his
ghost were
now
socializing
had formed
and
risen deformed
to play
upon
his mind's
stage
in a
catacombs
nightmarish
pantomime
act 1
Mira
beautiful Mira
Lay outside
on the
dirt
beyond
hurt
at
the foot
of the
marred
steps
that led
to the
charred
threshold
that
Drakon had
carried
Mira across
into their
honeymoons
adobe
Less than
nine
full moons
ago
Mira lay
trapped
in the
spinning
cogs
inertia
of a
fairytale
death
Drakon
always
lost
his breath
at Mira’s
soft beauty
now
broken pieces
of his
heart
caught in
his throat
choking him
all
he could
see
through his
blurry vision
was her
silent
blood curdling
scream
her
dried up
tongue
stuck
lolling
playfully
cheekily
from the
corner
of her
rigor mortis
mouth
filled
with flies
hatched
from the
magots
of lies
Drakon
could see
dark matter
had exited
the back
of Mira’s
head causing
Drakons
world to
fly apart
the
pulpy mass
made it
look like
Mira
rested
on a
blood red
fly blown
plush pillow
her body
surrounded
by the
wreath of
stones
that had
pummeled
her dress
into her
divine flesh
till her
hourglass
lay a
bloody
pulpy
smashed glass
dessert
the
ground
swallowed
Mira
and her
mound
without a
sound
as if
she'd just
slipped
into
the creek
without a
splash
and
drowned
in the
groping dark
Drakon
tried
to dig
Mira up
from where
grief
possesed
he had
mindlessly
buried her
down
on the
corner
away from
little jack
mourner
in the
dried up
creek bed
that would
come back
to life
when the
primordial gods
seasonal
reigns
came again
Drakons
bare hands
became
bloody
worn down
to dem
bones
the
dry earth
drank
of his
blood
and ate
of his
flesh
Drakon
howled
Pain ,
Anger,
Love,
Hate ,
up
at the
moon
and the
moon
in that
dark time
reflected
back the
dark horse
Selene
to
carry him
along the
shadow canal
Drakon
had begun
crawling down
after kissing
Mira's
half
eaten lips
one
last time
before
whispering
one
last vow
into
Mira’s
chewed off
ear
then
without
even
the strength
to move
on
or flick
one grain
of a
dust tear
to fill in
the hole
he left
Mira in
looking like
Hel
Drakon
slowly
wasted away
wrath
began binding
Drakon
together
lifting Drakon
with a
howling storm
beneath his
emaciated
flapping
madly
drying
wings
to land
on
two strong
legs
beastly enough
to trod
on
the path
of
VENGEANCE
for aeons
Ⓒbg 2021
the doom slinger 8
through the bones of primordial gods scattered by old crones across the plateau Satan tracked his fleeing foe from the signs he did sow defecating across the killing field where time cannot be appealed and not believing in luck set out in pursuit of his constipated lame duck the heavens on fire crackled and popped an infinite palette of marbled fiery red clouds rolling across a copper ceiling colliding with a thunderous murderous clap causing Satan to turn his opaque eyes to the angry heavens as transparent void droplets splashed down over him as he waltzed across the plateau in pursuit of his quarry soaked through to his bespoked chattering bones Satan cursed unto himself as he looked about helter-skelter for some shelter for he'd had enough of the reigning monarch's drowning piss just recently to sink a flotilla of arks Satan took shelter within the cranium of an old god passing the storm of time away trying to remember what his quarry's next move would be when Satan began wondering if the oracle's vision was malleable when suddenly as the oracle had shown the reign concluded but the heavens were still on fire and Satan felt trapped in a oracles mire worn down he fell asleep on a creek bed outside of the thoughtless primordial gods finger painting stained cranium hidden under it's dead weeping willow yellow hair seven sturdy pink hide mammoths hauled the wagon along the trail that drunkenly wound through and around the bones abound of the primordial gods off to the left the wagon trail mimicked the flow of the dried up sandy creek bed it paralleled the creeks banks were lined with bones some still had hair attached that hung weeping willowish over the dried up creek bed providing Satan a pool of gloom to rest under from the saturating heat of the heavens embers glaring judgmentally down on the Firmaments badlands cloth masks hid the wagons guard's and driver's scowling faces from the burning dust and choking light they wore mammoth white dyed wool robes the guard sitting on the left hand of the driver had a ankh shreddergun faithfully laid across his knees in the back of the wagon two guards clutched well used sarcophagus repeating rifles nested vested amongst the hacky sacks fill of untold fools gold headed for Woden'sOasis which was less than five bars aways as the wagon sways buried under the masks nervous sweat etched the faces of the wagon riders for their dangerous run between the indigenous gold mine and Woden'sOasis was nearly complete soon their dues would be paid their citizenship into Woden'sOasis purchased but they knew the jinn bottles would try to claim their salvation from them through violence and theft the driver hoped the lazy rag corked jinn bottles rolling around in the Firmament badlands wouldn't smell the lure of their pure fools gold they carted for he was in no mood to die this chapter the wagon had rumbled mumbled on past where Satan lay undetected covered in a blanket of dust escaping from his burdens when up ahead they saw deadfall on the wagon trail the ankh gunner tapped the wagon twice then lifted his ankh pointing it at the tangled mass of fallen god bones that could hide a bakers dozen of the nasty rag corked jinn bottles and more ominous had not been there on their journey out to the badlands gold mine the driver looked desperately swiveling his head from east to west for a way to steer around the deadfall but the rutted trail was following the dried up creek bed on the east while on the west the hedging primordial god heads empty bulging eye sockets watched their passing there was no way but through the deadfall or risk sinking their dreams somewhere out there in the badlands quicksand's the driver fried sighed preparing to haul on the reins for shifting the gods deadfall was a mammoths task the stolid sheared mammoths pulled back on their harnessed raw hides slowing the wheels of the wagon as the guards kept their guns nervously trained on the deadfall the butts of the guns quivering locked into their shoulders as their eyes perched on their gun sights searching the deadfall waiting for the jinn bottles ambush the guard with the ankh gun jumped down to cover the driver as he unhitched the mammoths he needn't have bothered for at that moment a shot rang out he fell against the wagon casting his ankh away then he slid into the hardening ground disbelief hidden under his death mask but not from been shot that he expected but from been tricked bye the jinn for the shot came from the dried up creek bed the guard drained out alone abandoned bye his companions busy as more shots blasted out of the creek bed as the two in the fools gold nest tried to swivel around and retaliate flame spouted from the muzzles of their sarcophagus repeaters when they got into position then blood welled from a deep hole drilled in one of the guards barreled chest his grape juice soaking into the white dyed trail grimed robe as the draining guard slumped back onto the bags of fools gold his eyes caked glazing over as the last guard existing reached over and took the drained guards sarcophagus to help fight off the attack several rag corked jinn bottles veils pulled up over their faces surged over the dried up creek beds concealing banks smoke puffed breathlessly from their wielded guns as the driver stepped out from behind a mammoths pink leg yelling while firing both barrels of the ankh from the hip shedding jinn bottles into mosaic pizzas the jinn bottles were closing the gap as the driver frantically tried to reload the driver turned to see the last guard thrashing around as grape juice gurgled from his throat torn open from a lead thirst the driver cursed he was alone stranded against a horde of gold lusting jinn bottles as he thumbed back his ankhs opposing hammers he thought about surrendering giving up his fools gold and his chance to gain entry into Woden'sOasis yes he'd throw himself on the mercy of the jinn horde then he spat out the idea that any rag corked jinn bottle would grant him a golden ounce of mercy for if their role were reversed he hadn't the ankh went off with a loud boom none of the jinn bottles fell because the driver had been punched in the gut bye several of their lead fists and he'd spilt his golden leaden death milt shot uselessly into the Firmaments wagon plowed ground crumpled leaking wine juice from his perforated barrel stomach into the unconsecrated firmaments badlands ground before the approaching indigenous jinn bottles he jealousy watched them reclaim their hijacked wagon fill of their coveted gold and fade from sight © bg 2021
the doom slinger 7
the ol' levitation corridor wound round the base of a low mole hill dotted with bush petrified and scattered around ol' god volcanic mountain oysters that literally begged to be licked for luck or misused for an ambush yet the tall wiry rider sitting astride the big red horse following the defunct levitation corridor seemed unconcerned under his dusty black bowler hat as his scary white eyes were preoccupied with whatever the words having a lie down on the books pages were telling him rather than watching for back yard back shooters like mean dean to pop up with a rifle to take his trifle coin and his trifle life mean dean was a mean shot dead eye back biter who stole from whomever then gave the coin away to the drug lords and their statuette pirouetting falling madonnas in any ol' towns temple he took a cleansing communal piss bath in the shot rang out once again mean dean had plugged his target dead center through and through knocking the bowler hat clean off the wiry riders head exposing his victims reddish greying ash hat hair which the breeze lightly tousled playfully yet the rider appeared unfazed as he continued digesting the words of his book around twenty feet away from the smoking eye of the rifle the big red horse pulled up and the rider looked up casually from his book to fix his scary white eyes on his ambushers secret robbers nest nervous sweat trickled down mean deans clocked face as the rider astride the big red horse stared unflinching at him as if he were nothing more than an escaped cadaver "you a pumpkin head kid it ain't Halloween kid now who boo you trying to scare cause i gotta tell you kid an ol' farmers wife with a rolling pin who thought blind mice were her sins would look more scary" dean's voice hid so his jaw flapping drew a grin from his accuser who was supposed to be his trembling tithe paying serf then his words squeezed out in a highly squeaked reply "frack you you son of a bitch" the rider leaned forward in the saddle asking of the highwayliege "you'll pass on your sweet regards to my momma when ya see her but what you jawboning 'bout kid you needs a new sock well if'n you ain't polite i'll a climb down from my high horse and put your foot in your mouth and pull on a new sock for ya" the rider straightened up in his saddle grinning from ear to ear at his mirth that made no frankincense mean dean stared along the barrel knowing he'd levered into the rifles chamber every ounce of his bravery as he stared down the sights into his victims lunatic gates befuddled as no mark before had behaved so cavalier marks begged marks pleaded THEY prostrated before their highwayliege giving generously for their lives they didn't insult or call him goddamn names "shit " who is this guy thought mean dean so spitting mad but knowing he was to scared spitless by his victims gloating demeanor to try so instead dean licked his crackling lips nervously before trying to speak again in a less mickey mouse voice "mister i don't know who in Hades you is or why you think you can insult me but if you don't start a explaining i'm a gonna donate you a third frigging white eye that'll be forever bloodshot " the more mean dean talked the braver he got he could feel his saliva flowing freely again so he spat then ignored the spittle that ran down his pocked chin to stalactite drip onto his dusty past chequered shirt muddening one dusty spot over his heart "o kay corral dem puffed up slogans kid fore i plants ya pumpkinseed i'll entitle ya to knows me handle the fates call me Coyote" Mean Dean sighed "nope don't reckons i knows you " Coyote grinned nodding his head " yep figured you weren't widely travelled also having followed your trail through the passage i thought i mights find you round these parts causing grief reckon for i kills ya kid you might be able to tell an ol' reaper if i be heading in the right direction to happen on Pandora's tunnel" "you thinking me an idiot mister Coyote the levitation corridor only goes in two directions you came from one so go figure mister jackass" Coyote grinned in reply as with his knees he maneuvered his big red turning a little more on an angle to mean dean then Dean blurted out relieved that standing up behind his rocks concealed his damp pissed squiggly patterned pants as he tried to cut a deal to get the upper hand "well i reckons if i lets you go you gotta let me live what you reckons there Mr Coyote we gotta deal" "can'ts say we do kid " drawled Coyote his smug grin dusted away to leave his face cruelly blank as a slate for mean dean to read "on account kid you been to lazy to bury your dead folk i've met along the ways kid you gaveth them a deal took their tithe then gaveth them a third eye in the back of their heads which tells me dispatching your sorry ass from this here territory is the only ways i see the light on the morrow " mean dean sullenly replied "i didn't wanna have to kill you mister Coyote" Coyote sadly shook his head " yeah kid you did it's your creed" Coyote looked mean dean straight in his raisin eyes deans mouth went dry again at the sight of Coyote's scary white eyes deans level head began to nod slightly unhinged unconsciously he began " a Baker's dozen odd milestones that away past an old morpheus tree grove there's a walled up hole in dem Asgard mountains i guess that's your Pandora's tunnel well your times up mister Coyote guess you ain't gonna go down without a fight but fore we throw down what's that book you're so engrossed in" Coyote looked down at the book cradled in his hands then he looked up grinning "why it's the good book of our Author kid and it says here do a kindness unto the mean and their gratitude shall bless you untold " mean dean brightened up and sarcastically chirped "so you ain't gonna kill me cause if you shows me a kindness I'll be ever so filled with blessings for you mister Coyote " Coyote snapped closed the good book in his left hand his right hovered over his silver skull engraved shooting pup with a blue as death barrel his muzzle now hidden behind a dark foreboding clenched mask only the white of his eyes told Mean Dean he was looking at the same man Deans trigger finger started to quiver as it tried straining with arthritic fear to curl around the flat cold piece of steel that could end mister Coyote mean dean had seen fast men including his narcissistic self when he practiced amazed and mesmerized at his own genius speed in drawing a gun magically out of the ether for hours in front of his own shadow but Coyote's speed surpassed them all in less than a split second dean felt one of Coyote's pup's spat out lead teeth sinking deep into his forehead a blinding ghost sheet of white light flooded his vision that darkness seemed to bleed and seep through as he whirlwind around the unconsecrated ground disappearing behind the ol' gods volcanic mountain oysters a knowing Coyote moved of to retrieve his holed hat from the yellow three eyed skull of one of mean deans previous marks as Coyote adjusted his bowler he remarked to Meanless deans resting worm riddled adamned corpse "that's the problem kid with the Author's book its open to interpretation your idea and my idea of kindness come from two totally different perspectives " with his holed hat back upon his head Coyote rode off into the shadows of the Asgard mountains tipping his hat in farewell to his highwayliege's hovering glowing dust devil © bg 2021
the doom slinger 6
trail dust that sticks like mud from the waste plains to the ether disguised the fact that astride the pale stallion with the peg leg a female materialized with whom one should not trespass across her path she looked every part a gunslinger of doom a killer there was nothing about her to tell a different story except perhaps the fact she rode a three legged stallion this might have informed an astute observer that this being however sick had a kindness Hel knew where her trail led she'd passed through once or twice before through the aeons chasing Justice all over the realms yet still she cursed under her foul breath when Purgatory walked into view shimmering exotically in the waste's heat haze Hel steered her gimp horse towards the gangplank knowing her outlaw never faltered was relentless in escaping retribution for Justice manipulated others to dispense commit heinous acts in his NAME and in a town like Purgatory he had his vine to harvest his rotten bunches Hel touched her defiled left cheek winced haunting images flashed through her mind bile spilled from her half eaten purple lips she would have retribution for her demon demanded it just as a stomach demands to be sated for Hel there were no borders she wouldn't cross for all territories had become her table to feast upon and if Purgatory was again to provide a main course then folks of Purgatory that is why when she sore your town she cursed under her sweetly sickly breath "amen" Hel pulled back on her reins after crossing the gangplank into Purgatory halting the tall pale stallion as she entered the main street where the white noise crescendoed a million flies worshipping feasting told Hel it wasn't her presence that had the town all abuzz piled up on a pyre waiting the executioners torch floating on the dead calm void were blood syrup soaked flesh vessels stacked pancaked one on top of the other noodle innards escaping oozed out of fatal wounds the sound of chanting echoed out of the mourners maggot filled mouths Hel inhaled tightening her half chewed lips her sunken eyes fluttered closed before opening wide as she nudged the pale horse forward past the remains of a battle knowing Flaming Justice was involved caution filled Hel as she guided the pale horse with her knees while her hands rested over the ivory grips of her shooting cubs as the moody heavens darkened indicating the passing of time while she guided her horse towards the house of ill repute rearing up beast like before her at the point of the fiendish towns pentagram her quick eyes noticed the bloodstains across the street and at the foot of the rocky stairs the soaked up fiery blood stained lake above which a few prospecting folk were picking out gold and lead nuggets from the ground and walls that had taken damage in the gunfight proceeding her entrance Hel sat back in her saddle as the pale horse instinctively halted nervous faces looked up some with legs took their nervous satellites and skittered away around corners or into quickly closing doorways Hel dismounted then calmly stood absorbing the defiant looks the remaining grapes gave her "you looking for something troll duckling" asked a blind ol' lady who carried a burdensome bag of lead as she stumbled along the courthouse steps Hel's smile deformed as she asked somewhat sarcastically "seen a critter named Justice round here got a flame beard and slaughter kinda follows him" the blind ol' lady paused considering a lie while watching the light vanish from Hel's sunken eyes " does he thinks himself a god" ‘‘Yep. He’s a full blooded god being" Hel nodded continuing "though he pretends to be a transcended bastard whomanbeing now and then " the blind ol' lady's face altered twas plain as false light in the dark she did not like the gods "he’s a god FRIG I hate gods and yeah as a god is my witness he was in Purgatory till that ol' devil came a calling and he hightailed it flaming through those dem doors the blind lady growled pointing up towards the unhinged courtroom doors "ol' devil eh" Hel stepped up thought ridden to begin her ascent ‘Yeah troll he was sort of tall real mean looking had no flesh on dem rattling bones which sure scared off your prey" she went on "oh i should of started with this tattered wings hooves and horns first time i'd seen the likes" "I’ve encountered such a being before" Hel sighed tugging at a braid of her long feathered crow black hair then hesitantly she took another step she didn't need to know more she mused inwardly "ha Satan so you couldn't have me so you think to have my retribution" a slow twisted smile lit up her eyes in their depths as she muttered coyly outwardly " silly ol' devil" to herself as Hel took another step towards Justice "what was that troll lady no matter i can see your busy contemplating but you watch your back now that Justice he got his cult of alchemist to try and stop that ol' devil i mentioned whilst he hightailed it they might see ya as kinda two peas in a pod if you knows what i mean'’ the blind ol' lady warned her before turning her back shuffling away Hel watched as she folded into the dark past "who the hell are you crone" Hel turned to face her abrupt questioner that had come sneaking up from behind Hel's sunken eyes reddened as she appraised the large oaf standing with one calloused loaf resting on the grip of his rusting pistol "yes Hel" she replied her voice dangerously level in the dark oaf couldn't see her blue flame fingers dancing over the bone grips of her own cubs oaf paused then raised his voice up like an angry bear preacher "you ain’t welcome in Purgatory best you take your rotten hiney and skedaddle crone" Hel sighed ‘I know that now stop interrupting go back to hiding behind your preconceptions fiend" Hel stood still watching the man's final countdown oh oh oh it's a draw Hel had an advantage she could see through the dark that surrounds whomankind the man whistled like when a kettle reaches boiling point his right hand furiously tugged his pistol from it's holsters dry mouth where as folks Hel's hands moved silky swiftly both her cubs were drawn from their tiger skin holsters in less than the mans racing heartbeat Hel cocked the cubs hammers and before she squeezed both hair triggers thought "i've beaten him do i need to kill him" then she heard her golden reply "do unto others as they would surely do to you" Hel tickled her hair triggers a moment yawned then one lead canine severed the mans vocal chord the other tore the mans head off like strong wind would lift off a toupee a look of death dread appeared on the man’s hard boiled blood egg shell shocked face as his gun fell heavily on to the courthouse step dragging its owners vessel in it's wake once the oafs flesh hit it bounced it rolled it bounced it landed to revive the sacrificial dried up fiery blood red lake at the foot of the towns hydra ©bg 2021
resurrecting the trashcan bard 