contemplations of violence and justice

Evil does not come unprovoked, evil is a monster, a fearsome beast, but one that sleeps in peace, one that rests in the dark folds of its ignorance. Left in its idle dormancy it is of no ones concern, a thing unrecognized, and quietly unseen, the passive foundation of foundations, layers below all that is good. Yet to disturb evil, to stir it out of its sleep, to scrape bare the flesh of god and expose holy blood, chafing and scratching through mortal skin, blemishing the pure with unsightly wounds--this is to uncover ones own folly, this is to find oneself in the gnashing teeth of unbridled rage, for to awaken evil is to be consumed by evil, never again to be seen.

At first there was shouting, then screaming, two feeble minded miscreants, comfortably frittering away treasures only borrowed, who continued to boldly taunt the unseen with the vulgarity of their careless recklessness. For weeks, months, over a year, indeed a year, their malignant incompetence and gross disregard for even the simplest and crudest of humble decencies proved itself to have suicidal stamina. Doors slammed shut seconds after they had just been flung open, all things glass and all things noisily fragile broke and shattered after having been injected with nerve fraying velocities, even the very walls, yes the walls I say, shook with the ceaseless pounding of aggravated discontent. Now fully awake in all its restless glory, and in a rage all its own, roaming in search of something to fill the void left by an evaporated peace, a purely evil beast stirred and began to solidify itself into existence. This beast was not driven to seek the peace that was taken from it-- No, No, No, this would simply not do, as such singular measures would leave unadmonished a disparaging assortment of offenses. Far be that from the ways of the justice that conforms to the glowing heavens own design. No, instead this now wretched and vile creature had come to imbibe copiously from the orgy of ignorance that had instilled within it the ferocious thirst of awareness. With the cries and sobbings it willed to drain from half spun implacable loons it would sate the need to balance an unforgivable equation. Still blind and groping, adorned with a fragile intellect, delicate senses, and wrapped in confusions abundance, the ravenous scavenger searched the fog of marginal certainties, attempting to discern the identities of the arrogant souls that taunted with harsh and careless curses. Many eyes and senses, which were encrusted like gems in an iron bracework of leather scales began to peel themselves open. Accustomed to the disuse required by the suffocated depths of eternal darkness and unfolding in a tender pain, sounds and sights fed into the seething flames of a transformed reality steadily gaining a life of its own. Attracted to the acrid nuisance, this venomous serpent followed the aggravated noise and was soon lead by the familiar stench of an abrasive soul. Closer and closer it came, a noxious vapor taking hold of substance one arduous layer at a time, it soon found itself capable of contriving the havoc with which it would lay waste to its prey. Meanwhile the hapless fools in the embattled apartment below my humble abode sank deeper and deeper into the sea of their meaningless conflict, completely unaware and too completely preoccupied with their own obnoxious blathering ordeal to take notice of the peril finding its way into their midst. I could not help but to laugh in marvel as I took notice of the terrible thing rising from out of the deep to widely consume such pitiful creatures.

Perfectly undetected, an indescribable evil lurked to within an ever shrinking proximity of the violent debate and soon it had found itself at the flimsy tin door which guarded the entry to the domicile that such ominous forces had sent themselves on a journey to invade. The door was open, its lax condition caused by the muffled heat of a summer night. Flowing, emanating, growing, fondling itself forward, past the irritated bricks, past the windows smeared with cracks, past the cigarette stained plaster and tasteless wallpaper, past every futile barrier mindlessly erected before it, seeping undiluted straight into the heart of its long awaited prize. There in the despondent glare of a domestic dispute gone out of control the beast had beheld a drunken man fighting with his drunken wife. He, beating her with an open hand, she biting his unwielded hand, two hopelessly lost love starved souls unwittingly begging to be stood on end by their throats and made examples of. Finally, the trinity of three damned and unworthy souls had managed to unite and engage in a contest the futality of which was revealed only by its inevitable outcome. Lightning struck, a dry river bed gushed full with mud soaked water, a mountain collapsed, the moon reveled in its thrashing howls, as it was unleashed and allowed to rule the night with a free hand. Hell came to the crib of its sired offspring, salivating in a numbed exhilaration, as the weights of wrath and hatred were used to set the jilted balance of justice aright.

A hammer, a knife, the bones of a hand--all the same, all instruments of a will serving rage. It was then that the higher laws of god were cast aside, and the fickle laws of man proved themselves a farce. It was the moment in which murder was justified and given a reprieve from its lengthy exile from the sacred and narrow halls of a mind warped by moral compunctions. As the beast drew in to make its final contact, its thrashing jaws dripped with an extruded form of shameless expectation, causing my own sanity to slowly unfold and bloom into the vehicle with which immortal persuasions could be fully realized by being cloaked in the flesh of mortal sanctity.

My every vein was plugged into the blistered heart of hell, and each hair that stood upon my neck fell into the crooked fingered grasp of a condemned puppeteer. Down to the most minute and seemingly insignificant, my reflexes and resultant motor functions were fully surrendered to the beast that only I could see. In a trance like state my fist rocketed into the back of the drunken mans head, breaking several of my own knuckles as it temporarily bounced the consciousness from its targets mind. I relished the dull pain as it traveled up my arm, barely lucid and delirious with the sheer amount of carnage that was waiting to be released. Reaching out and into the man I had just struck, my hand penetrated the loose veil of flesh draped over his bones, deeply wounding myself as my fingers were sent between two of his ribs. It did not matter that they could by now almost see the satanic throes with which I was to implicate them in, nor did it matter that they could almost now grasp the hellish frenzy living inside me and the horrific force with which I was to attack them. For them it was far too late, too late for mercy, too late for reason, too late for sanities anemic and hallowed judgements so invariably swaddled in the feigned concerns for consequence. And so the both of them, two empty cans of shrieking refuse watched in wide open despair as my hand, though even so obviously shattered, made its way deeper into his body. They could only look on and watch with envious horror as my own pain only fed my insatiable anger and did nothing to abate my actions. Little did they know, but much did they now suspect, that this feeding frenzy had yet to reach its climax. Now chewing apart sinews and relieving muscle from bone with a throbbing fist, I continued to drain the once boisterous heap of flesh of its final utterance. His arms I then snapped like sticks and twisted from their sockets, his face I pounded into the floor again and again until it was a bludgeoned mass of broken rubble which resembled little else than a peeled orange. I then threw him aside, having reduced him to a lifeless sack of organic debris--a mere victim of what his own meek fury had once inspired.

The woman who was with him I grabbed by her hair, she screamed in stale terror and mocked herself with her weak and minuscule struggling. She was soon thrown to the floor and all at once her collar bone was broken, her nose was shattered and her scalp was torn. The impact of a demonic rage having left its indelible mark upon her body. The floor by that point was adorned with the bright red deluge of unappreciated pain. Just barely awake she lie stunned and prone. Coughing, sobbing, groping to formulate the beginnings of a groveling plea for mercy, such a vile and worthless site she had always been, so much more vile and so much more insulting now that her frailty was so plainly visible. I could not help but to slam my foot hard into her torso dislodging, bruising and lacerating every organ between my kick and her spine, to which she responded by letting out a thick and viscous gasp.

Then a moment of inspiration, it had been unanimously decided that before she was to die she would be made pure with the fire of redemption. Thinking for itself now, in such an exotic way as to be both independent and through me. The creature paused briefly, marveling at the power of thought as ideas flowed through the beast as my own ecstatic blood coursed through it in trembling throbs. I reached up and rummaged through the kitchen cupboards. A half gallon of crisco, eight sticks of butter and untold globs of vegetable oil, all of which I gleefully dumped into a green metal pot. The gas range was then set on high convincing things to melt and roll into a boil. It was not long before tufts of bitter blue smoke rose out of the vessel as if inspired to become a metaphor for all that took place thus far. I looked over at the tormented woman, barely able to contain my monumental hatred with just my voice, "It is almost ready my dear, now its time to prepare yourself as best we can for a very, very difficult journey.".

The beast moved within me, and without steps I over to where she lay. She could see it plainly now, she could see its face superimposed upon my own. Drinking from some unseen wellspring of courage she spat the ghastly filth contained within her mouth into my probing stare. Not knowing whether the words were my own, or those of the demon barely concealed within my innards, I roared from a depth inside I scarcely knew existed, "Definitely not yet ready I see! Fear not my little bitch, fear not! I can take you much farther than you could imagine possible, but bear in mind my little whore, the rest will be up to you. Yet by the grace of hell and scorn of god you will come to know and then show to me the things I have been denied!".

A strong and massive hand fell upon her shoulder, and in a supernatural way jolted her back from the dull reality that the confluence of pain had shoved her into. Now wide awake she was brought to her feet as if gravity was momentarily shut off, in the same instant she was driven into the vinyl tile floor with a force obscenely disproportionate with the weight of her body--the price of humility can never be called cheap. Still too willful, still stubbornly defiant, she cursed and offended the mighty presence holding her delicate life. A lamp cord was snapped away from its keep and doubled over to form the perfect instrument for instilling repentance. With machine like consistency and unyielding force the hard rubber encased strands of metal swatted across her flesh. She instinctively retreated into the fetal position, trying in vain to dodge the countless blows. Her flesh was torn open in several places, the beating continued as wet debris was flung all over the room. Almost dead, but still fighting, she was still resisting the determined lesson she was being taught. I began to lament, yet still livid with unrepressed excitement, that she might have to die without fully grasping my greatness after all. Her body was quivering, bruised to the split bone and leaking a terrible amount. Then finally, finally she broke, her eyes grew slack and beheld with certainty the very convictions I tried so desperately to instill within her. That she was worthless, so worthless that she need not bother raising even a broken finger up in her own defense, so worthless that she hardly deserved even a glimpse of me as I stood in awe inspiring omnipotence. She let the last of my blows fall upon her unimpeded, up to her neck and covered in the putrid disgust that dripped and drooled from her devastated figure.

Not wasting any time I grabbed her by the calf and dragged her body uncerimoniously to the stove, the oil was so hot that it was about to burn with open flames. The remains of her shirt I tore away with angry fingers. She was rolled over onto her stomach and her broken arms were then spread out and extended in the crucifix position just for ironies sadistic amusement. Then the magic truly began, as I lifted the pot and its piping hot contents from the gas flame, dumping its roiling juices all at once upon her mangled flesh. Crackling and searing, brown and melting away in slabs, an instant later and the final signals to be sent from her flesh reached her mind. The sensual arrival was announced with an unnatural scream of a pitch so high it echoed off of every star. Finally, yes finally, something so genuine, so pure so uncorrupted and innocent had come out of the overflowing cess pit this bitch called a mouth. The scream outran her deepest thoughts, and sent her soul on an ascent up into the soaring heights, astride a blinding tide of limitless pain. In the perceptual spotlight, so singular and so absolute in its form she beheld the vary face of god on high, almost startling him and signaling to those who lazily rest in heavens keep that hells war with heaven was most definitely on.

Then began her agonizing descent, her mind tumbled down past the farest constellations and sank back into her body. Now, no more useful to my temporary master and I than shattered pottery, I grabbed her face with both of my hands and drew near to her, so as I might feel the fading caress of her waning breath. Her mouth was frozen agape, her tongue writhed like a fish, her eyes were rolled back and almost fully inverted as if trying to escape lifes most insidious state. It is then that I pressed my lips against the swollen strips of flesh that remained of hers, drawing for myself the last blood moistened breath loosely contained within her lungs. With a weak and reflexive kick, an anemic flail of the arm and a mild twitch she surrendered to me the last of what she clung to. Almost immediately she grew flat and cold, her eyes melted into the frozen tundra left behind by her departed soul. She was so beautiful, so beautiful I wanted her to last forever, but knew she couldnt and so I continued to stare at her for as long as I could be allowed to, trying to imprison in my own mind the very image that I had made her into, the very image that she allowed me to see, thus coming to own her in a way I cannot hope to fully describe. As her lost soul drifted and receded low into the bubbling rot from which it had fed from all its natural life, the wild dog lurking within me grew calm, now fat and tired from engorging itself on such a succulent dish. Taking a cue from the rising calm, I began to go through the motions of cleaning up the mess I had made as best I could. It was an artificial ritual I devised to convince me that my madness was just as controllable as it was temporary. Not much countable time had elapsed before I had come to sense that more than one of the neighbors would have surely had summoned the courage to tentatively grasp what I had done. And so without any time wasted, I made some final preparations to my physical appearance, after which I briskly set about putting as much distance between me and the scene of wanton destruction that both my feet and the waning night would allow.