It was a dream, of the dark and vaguely stimulating type, and as usual my mind gave it some savoir faire and added running, screaming and a sky full of bloodsauce. The last two were at least plausible.
But as the taxi pulls into a darkened, looming factory of some sort, like the song says, it’s all coming back to me now. Pulse racing, as excited as I am to see my Dark King, Brother, Matt Farnsworth, and the assorted sickos and deviants involved in this journey into madness, it’s really about one thing.
He’s not really human, outside of the physical, A monster in a flesh suit. I am afraid of him, in a fascinated way. I am in Fear of him, which is much different. Minion has arrived, and somewhere nearby, the one who stalks my nightmares, he who’s bidding I do, lurks.
Initial contact made with Mad Matt, homage paid in squishy feels that we will leave here, I find myself flooded with males, boisterous and somehow evil laughter in at least one case fills the small area, and I find myself nearly face to face with my multiverse travelling friend Matt Horwich…the man is a beast people.
Pleased to be in the company of fellow poets and writers, and cinematographers with their gorgeous cameras, I was a happy girl, and yet that tiny seed of darkness began to grow. Camera at the ready, I was last to climb the stairs to where I was about to bear witness to a transformation, and cold-blooded murder.
Wandering about the shelves and hiding spots for the right vantage point, not wanting to be in the way, but solely to observe and capture the event, I perch in a nearly empty aisle, my eyes tearing slightly in the warm acrid air. Keeper glances over, a smirk on his face. He’d already met him. Lucky bastard.
Matt calls action and all is silent, but for scattering feet and the hum of machinery that doesn’t quite mask the gritting sound of heavy footfalls. He’s here. Glancing to my right, I observe the somehow disturbingly delightful smirk, and determined expression of Matt. To my left, everything seems darker and quieter, and the mask appears over the top of a far shelf. I could wish for babysister, and I do, but that malevolent minx would help him. No saving me then.
He creeps along the aisle, eyes shifting back and forth, searching? Frozen I stand, my mind somehow gibbering about how he is like a T-Rex and visual acuity, and I laugh a little, until his gaze falls on me. And I do step back a few paces, remembering that this is no mere man, but a devil dressed in skin, and bloodsauce stained clothes. Moments later, Reaper comes to call, and I am privy to a kill that disturbs and delights me.
Over and over I glimpsed Marcus Miller, creeping hither and yon, causing bloodsauce to flow. He appeared in the eyes of his Creator, and in the pleased voices of The Assembled. The intervals spent listening to my wicked poet brother teach me about things I’d never considered were a welcome relief to the constant, looming presence of the Miller Killer.
And so it goes, the night air filled with the screams of the joyfully dead, and there was running, but not by me. Thankfully I’d escaped barely noticed. At least one hadn’t been so lucky.
It hadn’t rained bloodsauce, but it did reign madness. My first face to face meeting with The Orphan Killer was survived. and I was among my TOK Family. As the my long first night closes, I see Marcus creeping, his axe throwing cruel shadows on the ground, and shiver.
I look forward to my next meeting with The Orphan Killer. I wonder if he will introduce me to babysister…..
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