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Mark Grinage

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The Giver of Sorrows
By Mark Grinage
Saturday, January 30, 2010

Rated "R" by the Author.

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A man embracing the stillness of silence in a small room.Sitting alone in pitch black darkness.Wandering inside of his mind. Wondering of his thoughts. The window opens...

The Giver of Sorrows

The Giver of Sorrows
Mark G Melvin

Twizted Yarnz Publishing Summerlin Las Vegas Nevada


Mark G Melvin

© 2010 Mark G Melvin All rights reserved All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Las Vegas Nevada United States of America


The Giver of Sorrows

Dedication PG/Dedicated to my family


Mark G Melvin

Acknowledgments PG/Thank God for allowing me to do what I love.


The Giver of Sorrows

My peculiars lofted altitude of gaseous mountains beyond the reach of gravity. Wandering outside of what was. Inner sanctum of sanity, stranger to my minds own revelation, to it's home not reached yet settled upon existence. Mirrors of soul timeless abode catching seismic waves of out bounding thoughts of one. A one whom seeks connection with my realm of being yet I rest there as a journeyman. My partaking of this gift has arisen an auditory reality not conceived by mine own recollection of instinct. Pouring, pouring its thoughts into my own. Until my own are become his. Now where have I gone. Loneliness is not, thought is my life, my mind at valley's of uneasiness circumference the meadows of peace, while simultaneously toppling the appearance of maybe. Pulse throbbing, head tensing, mind bending, inner fury to know of what, or who, the one wants or is. My soul pursues an illusion spoken aloud to reaffirm my self to my self that sanity is assured. The room dark as pitch. Alone in reality. Nothing but pillows in the corner, and one chair in the center of the room. I sat in the chair alone, in the still, in the darkness, in the silence. Looking for, yet finding nothing. Mine eyes attempted to pierce the blackness to my defeat. The window swiftly opened. The triple velvet black curtain held the blackness of the room in absolute containment. One solid thud of a footstep connected with the floor, and then momentarily followed by another one. The soft sound of

Mark G Melvin

someone, or something slid past the triple black velvet curtain, that was nailed flush against the window. One more solid thud impacted against the floor again. A moment later it was followed by another ,and another, and another, and another, in swift rapid succession. I sat up forward into my chair with assertion, and keen perception. I was afraid to move, as I thought it or who could see me, even in the midst of the darkness. I could hear it breath. My eyes again searched the room to no avail. The heavy boom of footsteps began to move about again. They approached closer,and closer circling around behind me, settling directly behind me, while I sat in the chair. It hovered over the back of my head. "Who are you?!" I asked, in an extreme state of panic. Fear took over reason, and survival tactics prevailed. I slowly eased my way to the edge of the chair, scooting slowly. A force heavy on my chest thrust me backwards to the rear of my chair. A large solid hand without digits. It was extremely warm covering the area of shoulder to chest to belly in its entirety. Then it was, that I had become truly panicked for my very soul. The force withdrew, the breathing remained behind, and atop of me. A paused stillness occurred. The breathing increased deeper, and deeper. It breathed as an athlete, who had run uphill to complete a race. It sounded enormous. A footstep was taken, or rather shifted, as if to prepare or to steady itself. The force that shook the floor sounded as it where an ape, or a large elephant. My every thought were of running and leaping out of the window. I knew that it would not let me leave, and also that it was not human.My pulse began to race even more. My heart began to fluttering. "Who are you?!" I screamed, and out of the silence, it spoke.

The Giver of Sorrows

It's voice was that of a deep, deep tone and absolute confidence in its control over me. The dialect garbled as one that is eating, and talking at the same time. The extreme low hummed bass rumbled the inner of my chest cavity. When I attempted to speak again, it mad contact, with my body. It grabbed me of my hair, and lifted me approximately at least a foot, out of the chair. I reached behind to dislodge myself from the grip of the darkness. There was nothing tangible there, yet I was grasped and elevated from the chair. Then, the horror began to settle in at the depraved disparity of the situation. "I am you!" It rumbled. "I am you!" It rumbled again. My body writhed in defiant struggle to gain freedom, from its beyond human strength and grasp. "The pad in your chair. Pick it up! The pen in your pocket! Use it!" "Yes! Yes! What do you want?!" Another paused silence had occurred. "You! We want you!" As I held tight my pad and pen in agony being lifted from the chair, by the horrendously strong monstrous force. That is when I began to feel many hands, human hands, rip the coverings from off of my body. I began to scream. I screamed like a little sissy school girl. "What do you want?!" "You!" "We established that already!" The grip it had upon my hair grew stronger, until droplets began to drizzle down my face. I believe it was blood. The many hands withdrew once they were complete in having left me naked. Again, there was another paused stillness. I braced for whatever could have happened next. The voice sounded again. Its vibration broke one of the

Mark G Melvin

panes in the window, and the walls of the room vibrated. The angered force took in a deep breath subsiding from the out of breath furious rage it had displayed before. It had become... more calm. "We are the Dogon birthed from your own injustice. Here we shall remain agitating and tormenting the souls, of the tormenters, until justice is bestowed upon the tormented. "But I haven't done anything." "Oh you haven't done anything? Oh have you not? Then why do you hide away in the pitch black darkness? Why do you elude the authorities of this realm? Have you not spilled blood? Have you not raped innocents? Have you not taken from those closest to you? And, have you not falsely accused others being detained and forgotten of, for your own crimes?" "No! No!" "You lie!" "Who are you?!" "I have told you before, I am you! Birthed out of your own crimes." Heat covered the skin of my shell. An uncomfortable wet excessive warmth enveloped my entire being. The chair in which I had sat, melted away from under my body, leaving me in its full grasps. My body sat in its ooze. Its grip was so tremendous, that my skin began to tear away at the joints. The back of my knees,shoulders, elbows, under arms, hands and feet, were the beginning points that the skin dislodged. From the heat, the skin slid off of my very own face. All of my well receptive nerves were now exposed to the warm wet ooze. The sensation felt like being stung by 1,000 bees at every molecule of your body at once, repeatedly. My anus was entered by a warm slimy ooze, that had enough substance to spread me

The Giver of Sorrows

open past the size of a baseball bat. It curled me into an upright mid air fetal position. It filled my nostrils and mouth with the same warm,wet, rubbery, warm ooze. My breath was there, yet shallow. It felt like trying to breath through a straw,there was a supply but yet not enough. It rocked me back and forth thrusting into every orifice of my body, even inside of my ears. Inserting itself inside of me, my intestines, stomach, brain, and anus. Totally controlling my all. I was no longer I. It would not let me enter into full on pain. The creature only brought me to the edge of pain. The point of uncomfortability that made me scream. It was muffled non sounding and futile. The pressured feeling was like your whole body being compressed, into a vice grip, and tremendously squeezed but not broken. The air become as salt upon my open flesh. Mirrors of reflection, inside of the darkness were placed before my gaze. "Look!" I shook my head no! "Look!" It screamed as it dug thrusting itself continuously without cease into all of the orifices on my skinless body. I would not comply to see such a horror performed upon my soul. It forced me to gaze into the mirrors of darkness that shown in the blackness. What I beheld, I would not want for my worst enemy. Then it came to be, that I beheld my captor. Myself, turned 100% evil. I had brought 100% evil upon my own soul, by my own crimes. I myself was my own tormenter. With every wrong I had done, I had fucked myself. Now my sins had come to reckon. They had come and they had a name, Dogon The Giver of Sorrows. "Now write of your tears, anguish, and your plethora of sorrows. Tell others of the Dogon... we are coming."


Mark G Melvin


       Web Site: Twizted Yarnz

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