The Devil's Kennel
By Randall Johnston
"You might as well be talking to a cactus who won't give you any sympathy in the middle of the desert."
- Randall Johnston
750 000 000 yrs, BC.
Rev:
For a long time I stood upon the ground undefined. The discernible surroundings convey what was made of mist, the colors of cyan and a darker emerald green. Above me the source of the surface by a brilliant white light, all creation. Conveying in a voice with no explicable means, the sounds allayed intent was never picked up by ear from the overbearing source of sound and sight encompassing my feat of perception. It had become translucent by way of the third eye. Yet realized before the others. The helio-centric cosmological star allaying waves as an inaudible gravitational pull on my nulled and dulled mind. Culminating to a known sense of time only exceeded by the aeon it sees, as it has seen little of me. The first and foremost did hold a truth of unstoppable rays reaching infinite spirits to communicate by rays of lights attained by all satellites.
I look below to find my wings and see brilliantly blue crystal clear water. The wind pressurizes my body and pain developes across the crucial muscles as my exoskeleton is crunched into place. There's the silhouette of a face hiding in his quickly made inordinate eclipse, so I was named by someone that'd taken shape of something like an Equinox because of the last awakening of a storm for me to die in. To draw in over the constant convalescence of immutable relativity unto all for gravity. So for the possibilities of life in every manner constellations lit out of his awareness for blinking inbetween the dotted mis-connects from sundered skies. For each new star, another connection is made. Another over another over an other until one persists over all others. It's divine essence and clarity develop an identity out of the Nebula in which a finite surface will be enough for what will forever last. "Even beyond you. My first creation. Rev, enjoy your last life." The intangible voice spoke to me with the visceral array of will and intent. I had been hatched by as a celestial body. One of many, to have followers and breath new life to more solar systems. Expanding horizons for permissible new experiences producing more fuel for the drama of clusters that would eventually stride into constellations extenuating the collected generation of radiation defining the finality of spacetime and gravity.
Creation guiding his initial acknowledgements of steps finally meeting the ground. For more than thought all it really wanted me to notice is the fortuitous reality of bearing a physical body on earth. For it's understanding, it chose a moniker. One to be recognized as the heavenly bodies revolved around him, "I am Allah. You will know my light." As rock compacts together colliding and breaking into each other through the purple night clouds and unto the oceanic environment. "I do not control the heavenly bodies, you do."
"By sentients." He points in the distance to the hurling of humidity by asteroids sleeting from ice because of the divine's cold water awash with the Providence of God. The measure of heat and pressure hitting the stratosphere enclosing microbial life by the encasement of shelled glacier ice like an arraignment of eggs as rain hits water and brings the children of mankind.
Mass had pulled the rays of heat as well as the collected abundance of water forth on chunks of asteroids. Cultivating the intrinsic needs to earth's rotation. Allah is providing the floor for consciousness to procreate the organisms, carried by hydrogen-oxygen. Frozen as mounds like icebergs melting as the ice dips down into the surface water. Turning from this as it churns from hail to pellets then sleet to meet the oceans. The rate of descent coupled with the molten charge of thunderous sonic seismic blasts from each and every other dropped leaf through the atmosphere is in an entirety dissolute.
"Your blind to them I can tell." I shrug. He speaks from a throat that causes tremors in the wade of the water. "An effect at impact sinking through Alma's first ocean trudge from another concourse of the cosmos." Accelerated evolution of what would live in the expansive oceans encapsulating the life bearing planets to gestate from microscopic organisms, sediment deposits had laid down on the ocean floor and the elements had accumulated underneath the stone of the ocean floor. Containing their dreams, energy and nightmares. "As all life learns the mind will attain awareness, knowledge and mind of matter. So I give unto you the responsibility of guiding sentient life in the solar system, Reverence."
The lights casts shuddering scorn onto my eyes in a sheen of glimmering tears for the one divine.
The torrential downpour is marked by the overshot of the horizon. "This planet is under your dominion. When the system is aligned, three crunch and several perish. Becoming one. Set for Exodus." I hold up my hand to the big bright light barely making it through the clouds. My eyes watering at the shine and ask, "What for?"*
Noticing my back aches, I reach and touch what is holding me above the water. Wings with enough length to keep me from drowning.
"Do I sense doubt?" Uncertain of the entity talking about nerves without words, fluctuating waves emanating from the sun and with my auditory resilience my ears aren't able to handle it. I press my ears and stare at what is underneath me, beneath the water a dark graviton globe capable of dragging me down. I consider that this might always keep me here, "Does it call to you too?*" Reading it I see a future captured not by light but by quantified measure of the future. An ominous figure striving to get to the top of the humans piled, toppled and collapsed. Rolling with the mound of skeletons attempting to snap for the end of ropes survival. Slid slots, heels clashing and starting to slip on skulls on his way to the top. Crack.
I shriek at our God's presence, "If I know his, I want to know yours." The waves flex and become rapid. No longer soothing or equal. The throat of God is beret enough to erupt berupt from his shrine to shake the shroud of his shadow of light, an eclipse. A red hot moon. Covering his real form showing the distinct similarity of a nightmare rising. A compact surface for this winged silhouette to of climbed closer to the sludge at the top. Moving through the egress of molten hydrogen oxidized bone against the rock, crashes through and in the muddy water kicked up in front of me I get a glimpse of a barely recognized face but known to me as my own. The anger of the kindest sweeps the air within my wings when the light goes out above and the rest are still slow from trying to push their way above each other.
My face is drenched with water and my hands showed shocking hysterics with the wicked breath and tongue that is this. My voice raises into a bellow of blatant hatred, "You've already lied, false idol!" My pulse slows, my wings steady their frame and I spark my fingers hollow bones with my nails made of flint. The gaze of God's heralding wild light wraps into itself. No blinding light, he's a sentiment of the same kind. "You won't." Through teeth and tongue I had disbelief before he could ascertain the problematic acknowledgement for his ignorance and my own. I plummet. Didn't need another thought with my wings tucked behind my back. The stretch between us is not enough for me to arrive at the sphere in the first without the worse of the damage. The divine being rushes towards the water where I'll hit at impact against something better than the strength of my body with my will in equal proportion, the water. "No!" His shout acquiesced what I know of whats happening deep beneath the surface of the water as it's sludge is held by the gravity withholding the truth of a angel. The real form of our Creator's deference has him determining descension in aptitude of what I doubt he'll get close enough to. He'll heel when he's close enough to my shoulders and grab hold of my wings and try to steer me away from the concrete surface at the centre of what's still scaling up to where the surface hits the water.
Only to have one of us make a mistake. An infallible mistake of cataclysmic impact at a velocity that will surely cripple both our bodies, smashed. Smack. Both of us crushed but I clasp my breath off in my lung at the lowest measure.
An eventual reality of the permissible rays that retain the sky as a beautiful blue. Allah floats concussed to the surface watching the rock compact and concrete as fire and brimstone, holding his breath as I let go of what little is left of mine. Letting my body sink towards the gravitationally collapsed core.
Easing into torture of Globe as my mimic's arm raises high and forces me under. Magma within, ash without and quantified time encapsuled. As we fall from orbit with the clutch on the valve of our tongues spritzing fire choking out our lungs.
Descending through the smoldered sphere. The gleam embraces me with its own fluctuation, absorbing my heart with the heat of the stratosphere's seismic charge as I crash and cripple my way in and onto the planet. A version of myself through the inexplicable reflection while I let the breath out of my lung expel through slowly releasing his hand from grasp of my left shoulder to let me fall. My skin is clearly green but the creature before me is, without a doubt, a murky shade of my own. His red eyes are perverse, with inverted irises and no pupils. No discerning circle to encompass the dredged out white solid base leaking out to the rest of the pupils, ooze running down along around and outside of what should be reflecting all that he sees. The crazed look on his face wrenches through the transient mud elevating him above the surface with his right arm raised he throws a cuff on my wrist and drags us down into an adverse type-o globe, we fall together. The farther we get to hitting ground the easier it is for the glass-esque soon to be metaphor for bones shattering on the floor. The collision is final. The cascade of light will sheer into an all too clear color of the sun's depiction when the horizon meets the eye, after the clouds let the array gleam the message off the blood.
*
The crunching of elements compounding into my orifices with matter unto it's own tether of mass, while solar flares radiating gamma rays vibration, an expenditure expends as I tighten my muscles and compact stability from providence. Kicking out my wings in glorious red thread for cartilage and my wings harden to the same effect as the exhaust in my fingertips and up top my tongue.
My opponent looking for any way to hurt the wings guiding my fall snarling at the transformation out of envy stilling within me to find a weak tendon in my anatomy.
Already had a broken thumb from the Sky's dive when I'd fallen on sense, clear water of cyan and blue. The rest of the hand no longer crunched and contorted helps glide the metal locking me to feral discourse so similiar. We hit the heated plate of the western hemisphere showing the horizon with an array of light spotlighting from the ground. We fall in the smoke and shadow of coal and fire beneath. He manages to use my own inertia against me buckling my hip bone and flipping me as he twists my spine with muscle tissue of my wings. I scream in excruciating pain as he rips off both of my wings. I catch the near mirrored image hand, looping it around his three fingers and snapping each one with the cuff he placed on me and ripped off. The sustained sonic noise flattened our senses of sound. We continue catapulting through the thermosphere, the ground dragging him down to the next entry then entering the next barrier towards the asphalt.
That pang of hitting the atmosphere leaves our eardrums bleeding at the level of decibels disorienting both of us to another concussive state. Breaking out our necks in the wind due to turbulence. His wings slow us down pumping as much gust as possible to keep us from slamming through the bones and skulls becoming poor cliché, dousing the pavement in blood. An occurrence where we would've defined the ground. He grits his teeth, spits out sulphur, and cackles out a cough of silicon oxide. Grinning he clicks his inlaid, fried, singed and seared teeth. Spitting out an intangible amount of heat off his prideful pry of mouth, kicking my skull back and then dropping with the back of his heel against my jaw. My neck slings back whipping to a cackling of constricted noise barely heard over the drape of air getting passed the felled arch of my spine. My awareness of the crackling of each knot as the neck snaps in and pops.
A vain attempt made tenacious after breaking his skin I pierce his face by climbing up his body with my nails starting with his Achilles' heel up to his frightful eyes. Bashing repeatedly at the weak points of cartilage on his wings. Using his momentum I crunch my knees to my stomach to flip him over, ending up right where I want his neck to be taking a chunk out while lock jaw prevents my hands wrenching his muscles to constrain and contort, staying the frame of his muscles still moving ever so slightly out of forced pain along his neck. His limits of constricted muscles and limbs and the blows done to his cartilage must've been too much for him, "Those horrible red eyes with sludge moving through them." His voice has me hesitate for a moment until he looks down. "They'll soon be yours, just as they are mine."
Taking this opportunity. I slam his neck with my left elbow. Rendering the cartilage in his neck incapable of slotting back into place digging my nails into what's left of the placement of his esophagus and dislodging the rest. He struggles sporadically trying to wrench his esophagus back into place. Barely able to breath. His lungs fight frantically as he becomes asthmatic for any gasp of breath. His frantic panic has him shifting his wings in insanity and at the speed of descent, it's hard to be anything but sporadic. With a fervent expel of force, he breaks my hold and takes a solid breath. His eyes pop into a livid bloodshot psychotic taste for the smell of my blood, lust.
Snapping in succession with fire sprouting off the obviously alarming amounts of coal mining being done to the city below. The grittiness of the coal piling up from ill-refuse of hazardous grounds that stored more than just the common uses for heat. Forgeries and enough ash to fall in. Aiming for where the rib cage splits I force my pain out to flex the knuckles just before the end of my fingertips only to be surprised when he bats them away and latches onto my upper body squeezing my lungs out while he gains what little he can of oxygen. I notice my mimic of mania at his measurements of breath, "Your grasping at straws like your gasping for air." It's like his lungs aren't moving at all.
Barreling down to the ground, bound to asphalt. He lands, I don't. I'm incapacitated against the stickiness of scolding tar as alike to those made by my maker. All I hear is him scoff and walk away from what he had hoped was an adversary worth waiting for. "I'll expect to see you soon." A man with red eyes walks cautiously up to me and hoses me down with red liquid, de-lousing. "I expect him broke by dusk." The young kid in a full clad HAZMAT suit responds, "This will turn him into an invalid." He shakes his head reporting disparagingly "I want him fit by the end of processing. Always remember your place." Rev looks at the mirror being held to his face and sees his blood-blistered popped eyes with iris red on the outside, the pupil accumulating at the edges of my eyelids and coagulating at the corneas. Chaotically spreading the sludge of what was once left knowingly the notion this subordinate gave answers to.
"Devoid a soul." He moves his hand in a hypnotic movement sparking flint from his glove off shale and coil. Fixating my attention to what he wants me to see. "My name is Tangent and I have one task for you."
He snaps at the other's back as I scratch at the venom in my eyes then with bitter grit callous in his voice he says. "Feed."
He laughs at the caught off guardian of Globe as I launch for the menace with malice and all my intent to sink my soon to be stained teeth into his jugular. Tangent's stone-faced expression and grumble features, for someone to have entrenched another for another, the possibility for a turncoat to seem like he's on your side is criticism for those without a sense of flare. "Funny, how easy it is to pit you dogs against each other." I doubt a single grin has ever smiled at him.
Nails are burnt in to the skin swallowing whatever runs through our veins. Trusted to my eyes, trapping the fuel within his blood, and wrapped in the black of my filled sclera.
Tangent evokes his science as a blasphemy. "A fantasy to a kennel."
***
