From what I write of is a dream that I had the night before. The thoughts that would come to mind when I am writing this is a slow paranoia because it came out of the ghosts of my past. From what would be of the things that I have been told not to be written are the dreams that would be in the back of my mind -- old nightmares becoming more vivid as the darkness comes. The thoughts that which sit within the shadows as I would read in the library that is the Theosophical Society in Wheaton, Illinois. Words that would be there in the shadow of the maelstrom of the thoughts that have been said not to concieve or even write at the back of the mind. It is of the vampires and witches that the nightmares are invoked because of the time that I had been living in Glendale Heights -- the words that would be in the back of my mind would be of the imagination that I was told to piss away because of the slaveries of scripture.
They (the old nightmares) sit there waiting, watching as I would fall asleep and dream. The thoughts that would be in the back of my mind when I was ill during the winters that would sit in the Midwest -- the horrors that would be in the back of the mind would slowly surface. That would be there -- looking as they would take the wheel. That would be sitting at the bed when I slept -- during the period when illness was watching. That would be there in the mind as I would dream. The shadows I walked and watched along would see the things that would be unwritten in the back of the mind.
Testamonies and revelations were the things that would be what are said to be the only things to be written. It was that which sits in the Bible Belt that watched them from writing of the things that would plague them in their nightmares; the wheels of time would not heal which is damaged by it. That would be in the nightmares that would be in the thoughts that would sit there as I would see them in the pews; falling over without the warning. It is of them saying what sits beyond the walls of the Theosophical Society is evil and should be burned. It is there looking at them; laughing at what they do not understand. That the nightmares would sit there of testamony and unwritten illness.
It is of the darker testamony that is written within the mind that looks on at the keys of Enochian nightmares. It is the horrors recieved by the light -- that would be in the nightmares that are left unwritten. The chain of fears that would be there in their thoughts when the full moon reigns and the shadows cast upon the night of Samhain. The horror that would be in their soul -- the lasting torture between the gates. Of I -- who is documenting the nightmares that would go between the lines; that would be of them preaching words of savation -- denial of what would sit in the back of their mind would be the very nightmare that would be there in the mind. The thoughts that would be inside -- inside of the God of the mind.
It is in the denial that would write into the wheels of torture. Looking down in the sign of the cross the nightmares that which are written -- the pictures that would be in the back of the mind would be the madness within. The madness among the testamonies and illness; the nightmares among their revelations. It is the horror that is drawn in the back of their mind and keeps playing itself as a vision of hell -- that hell is repetition. They (the preachers) cannot close their eyes and dream -- the horror playing in the back of their minds would be that of one where many are dead but still dying. The words that would stand inside of their torture. It is in the eyes of the tormented prophets that would see the horrors written in the morbid revelations -- the words that go in between.
Chemical euphorics draw upon the horrors that would be inside among testamonies and nightmares -- that would be in their thoughts which sit between angels and insects. (Unwritten nightmares look in the glance -- the hellfire rises higher still in their minds.) It would be the sign of the youth going and detroying themselves -- as the preachers watch them when their skin is turning green and their heads continue to spin around and would not stop spinning. Nightmarish euphoria sits in the back of their mind as I would look at the pages written with the forbidden walls; the nightmares that would be there waiting to surface from the forclosure of shadows.
Not even God can heal them from the horrors that would be written in their cries -- the laughter that would sit among them in the shadows. The horrors that would be there in the minds; that would be in the recollection of tainted thoughts. Testamony. The words that are written in the in between. It is the horrors that would shed their skin within the dreams of those who would ignore them; just to realize that they would only scream louder when they awaken. That many days would be in the back of their minds when they would go to the bible studies; of the words that sit there and the nightmares would shed their skin. That I -- am the one who is writing of the recollections of the tormenting thoughts that would sit in the back of their dreams. The words that are written in this diary; the horror that would draw upon the fears that would live as long as I. The ones that would be there waiting -- looking as if they had no choice but to become born.
They sit there in the back of the mind waiting; that would be there in the back of my mind in the hours when I was in the sanitarium a few years ago. That time was the thing that was going slow -- as the last hours of a person has on earth. Time is the only thing that is standing still -- nor when the horrors would sit in the back of the mind of someone from the church finding out about my reading patterns. The thoughts that would be in their mind would be the modern Judas because of my curiousity -- the horrors that would be in their thoughts; the words that would invoke the sickness. The horrors that would be when the good is died; that would be the changes that would be in me.
The words they write is what they cannot see -- the horrors that would sit in the thoughts that are unseen inside. The only way is they would fall asleep and dream. Sophistications of the horror inside are what torment them in periods of time. It is when darkness comes -- the hours where midnight the horrors inside become more vivid, as it drives another nail into their veins and venom takes control waiting for them to die. That would be the nightmares of the crucifixion taking of their soul -- the horrors which say that they have so many sights to show them.
Huh,wow! The words you wrote kept spinning in my head ,like a feverish sermon..Is the illness morbid ,slowly griding down any speck of life..or is the torment ,more than that?I also like the tone and color ..slipping into the darkness. Anne Pawlak.
Dark, haunting imagery and lines here. An intriguing, terrifying story. Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
But I don't know how being sick is being blessed--to me, it's a curse. :(
Reviewed by ***** *********
5/28/2005
Very Algernon Blackwood, Nick, nicely wrought work! But be careful, there are quite a few passive passages in this that could have been "pumped-up" with a few action verbs and a subtle P.O.V. shift, thusly delivering a bit more punch within the narrative. Still, all in all, good work!
WOW Nick you are too much!!! you have some wonderful lines and phrases
"slaveries of scriptures"..."forsclosure of shadows"...."the words they write thay can nolonger see" just to name a few....you got a strong play on words going on here....I will be reading this again I enjoyed this one alot.....
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.
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.
