Night screams in silence, as darkness slides into the shadows of unknown reflection.  There is no whisper to touch the moment… no hint to see… no tear to hear… the echo calls out to none and cries merely in apprehension of the awaiting fate that stirs near and yet rests so far away.

How did this become all that is, while all else remains somewhere in the vast dimension of all forbidden, though only to some… just to some… just to those shuttered on the outside of things to be?

Night creeps further into the harsh moment, where eyes peer cautiously and anguish threatens to devour all not cloaked in its sweet scent of remorse and the haunting thoughts pursuing.

When did it call out in demands of utter defiance?  What hand lay it into the midst of all that is and all that might ever be?  Who is the shadow birthing the terror and snuffing the flicker of breath once given freely to all?  Where did this beast travel from that does prey upon all those isolated and helplessly devoured by the shadows of ghostly destruction destined in the early hours before the dawn to come?

Did the darkness of madness come alone or has it been descending in a mass of existence not supposed in possibility?  Who bid it come?  Who holds the power to send it back into the nightmare of its creation?  Who is it that walks in mocking tones and dares us to see truth in the moon’s rays or the breath of spring before the death of winter?

Oh yes… it is a question to unfold and to cause recoil.  A sight terrifying in hideous form of drooling madness dripping from the being of twisted shapes and words deformed in presentation to embrace the masses of ignorance who shall dance in thrilling ecstasy at the banquet of their destructive sacrifice of self.

Ah, the beast with blackened heart and stench of rotting soul, standing just beyond man’s sight in his tremoring wake, still leaves wonder as to who beckoned the vile creature to dine upon the world?  Are there any so mighty in deed and wing of righteous spirit to swoop away the obscene presence of perverted flesh and the master who bid it come to feast in such great delight?

The night screams in silence and the desperate cry does remain forever sobbing in the dark corners of time as it asks again and ever again…

Are there any… any at all… who embrace the power to rise in mighty force and sling the deadly beast back into the netherworld of nightmares and the haven of its shadowed nest?  Are there any…  any at all who can save us from this doom of madness and agony once foretold and ever written of a time when the beast of darkness came to conquer the unwilling souls in the land that has come to reek of perversion and mock all once held in sacred covenant of old?

©2014 Carrie K. Hutchens
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