Testimony - the idea that would be said of salvation is what is spoken of when a Christian tries to save a soul. In the words of the one that writes this - the nightmares that would be seen within the rows are the thoughts that are told to be placed in the back of the mind. The memories that would be said to be kept repressed are what sit in the emotional Bathory. Horrors repressed inside are the ones that are told which shouldn't be said - are the ones molesting the thoughts. The eyes that would look within the minds of those who would sleep - casting stones upon the ones that would look into the barrel of a pistol. Though as I would sit in the hotel around Gurnee, the thoughts that would be in my mind as I would walk among the cold darkness. The darkness appears inviting because of the illness that would follow me - one that was once told to flee, but that would been something that I would of done years ago - now that part that would flee is dead, left to rest in the Ravenswood. Only to see within the dreams that would close in upon me as I closed my eyes would be the thoughts that were told to walk away from. Saying that my illness is a lie, just to say that I could be healed is nothing but a selfish lie. In the thoughts that would be within the dream, walking the Bathory as it would appear as Jeffory Dhamer's den - almost as he invited Albert Fish over to dinner and Fish brought the children to be the meal. As I would be walking among the rooms in the Bathory, the further descent would be seen in the nightmares of torment - salvation appears as another form of torment. As one would see the horrors, one cannot describe the unfathomable. In the eyes of the Christians, the words that would be written are a blasphemy in their eyes. They would get on their knees until the horror sleeps - the horror that would be written would never sleep. That as I would walk among the ones that sleep, the ones which would not awaken - as they would close their eyes crossing the river Styx, the thoughts that would be there appear only in the Bathory. That as I would walk among them who sleep, I would see myself among one of the chambers. They would say that death is the end of everything, but the nightmares are only the darkened beginning. They wound sit looking at walls as they were windows with bars on them, knowing that they have been there awhile - the horror that would appear to them as they would sleep would be only the beginning. Even when they would say to take authority of the nightmare - there is no control of the horror that would be inside of the thoughts, inside the phobias crawling in the sleep. That as I would begin to dream from my hotel room, one cannot begin to describe the horrors that would stay alone - that I would be walking in the halls only dressed in my sweats which I would sleep in. The thoughts that would lead me into the snow covered fields of the open January sky. That it would be the year 2001, but it would feel as it was 1996 - the year when I was hit by the car in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, but as I would trudge across the snow covered field, I had seen myself laying on the concrete looking up at the star covered sky. I had not know of the time it was when I fell asleep that night but the time in the dream was that of 10:50 PM, the time when I was hit by the lawyer driving along Glen Ellyn Road. That as I would see myself laying there - what I was wearing at the time was a Florida Panthers jacket and black jeans. The bike that I was on was thrown back about 100 feet. Laying alone in the darkness - beneath the winter sky, only to become of the nightmares that would follow years to come from being thrown across the top of the car. I could only think about if I was going be getting up from that impact, but the nightmares would be within the Bathory of the what ifs -- that I would see myself wheeling around in wheel chair, paralyzed from the waist down. That as I would sleep, I would see my blackest fears - the reality of being in a wheel chair for the rest of my years. I could see my legs nailed at the thighs into this chair, slowly and blood flows from where they are impaled breaking the bones in my upper legs. One cannot begin to conceive the horror within the laughing madness - as one would see them wheeling me into a revival meeting, only to see the preacher drive more nails into my legs. Nails that are about 11 inches long, impaling my legs saying that if I did follow the Creator, I would not be in the chair. They were telling me if I want to walk - repent and the bleeding would end, just to say that to lie - only to see that what I was looking at was a small corner of hell. That one would see the thoughts within the nightmares are those that would say they are of the devil only to realize that it represents their own ignorance. This would sit in my mind as I had walked among the Carnival of Carpathia - while my body was asleep on the frozen ground. I stood among the astral plain, looking among the wayward in the Bathory. I would look on from the darkness of the Ontario and Illinois skies - the cold winter winds cutting across my sleeping face as I would slip into a death-like sleep in the void-filled night. That as I would begin to dream - the purity that I was told once to think upon had been molested and raped. One to only realized that all that they had been told to think from the pages of an open bible have been fucked. The dreams that would inhabit the Carnival of Carpathia are those that would sit alone within the Bathory.
Happy Halloween. A volume of Horrible Haunts & Twisted Tales taken from the horror books La Belle Rouge has written every October for a decade and a half. If you have read her works in the horror genre, you know the invitation is for you to enjoy thr
The fortunate inherit riches, prestige, positive notoriety. Those not so lucky bear legacies filled with poverty, infamy or, worse yet, the unhinged insanity and murderous urges of their ancestors.
