The Dead Body Driver: A Christmas Story

Part 1: The meeting

I always get homesick when I am away from home, why would now be any different? I'm thousands of miles away from my hometown in China, walking down Oxford street, all alone on Chrstmas Eve; not that it means anything to me other than I have nothing to do and noone to talk to.
They could have waited until after the holidays to send me to this tinsel-infested city but no, I had to come now to recruit new sales representatives for my hardware company....how stupid can you get?

My feet stop in front of the strangest pub I have ever seen so far, my jaw drops as I stare at the hellish entrance..

"The Bucket of Blood"

I wonder whether they serve food with that.

I enter the Bucket of Blood and the blast of the music hurts my ears; THUNDER! Ahh ahhh ahh THUNDER! THUNDERSTRUCK!

"Half a pint lager please." I answer the polite request of the bar woman whose face is painfully covered in silver earrings. Her hair is completely shaved and I can see the strange tattoos on the skin of her skull...this is a strange place indeed!

The beer tastes good, the music is too loud and the open coffin gaping next to me gives me the chills.

"Merry Christmas" I mutter to the skull perched on top of the shiny cask and raise my glass.

"Paying respect to the dead shows intelligence and culture!"
My neck snaps to the left towards the booming voice that manages to blanket the music almost completely.
Rubbing the side of my neck I look at the bulky, bearded man standing next to me gesturing to the bar woman for a refill.

"Of course, as a Chinese man yourself, you have both.." he said.
"Have what?" I asked still observing, perhaps rudely, the giant next to me.
"Intelligence and culture..." he said picking up a beer glass the size of a bucket into his meaty hands.
"The name is Ian. Very Pleased to meet you."
"Enders." I answered and raised my glass.
"So, What brings you here Enders?" he asked raising a bushy eyebrow.
"Boredom!"
"No, I mean the country.." He added
"How do you know I am new to the country?"
"You smell like airport."
"I came two days ago! Anyway, I am recruiting."
"Bloody Hell!" He shouted and I almost fell off my stool, "So Am I! What are you looking for?"
"Sales representatives for my company in Shanghai."
Ian laughed and shook his head.
"I know it's pathetic....and you?"
"I am looking for someone to help me on my next trip." the man said and emptied his glass.
"Are you a scientist?"
"No" Ian said and banged his glass on the counter. "I work for the Dead Body Driver." he announced and waved for a refill.
My eyes are glued on the bearded face.

"So you do know what I am talking about.....I'm glad! I'll skip all the time-consuming introductions.
Since you are a lonely man and  have nothing to do on this Christmas Eve...what do you say Enders, would you join me?"

"I'm not sure we are talking about the same thing, Ian. A dead body driver is a Chinese legend about a priest leading a group of dead bodies back to their hometown to be buried. The priest puts a special mark on their foreheads and makes them walk into the night over mountains and forests..There was a documentary about it.. "

"Yes, that's about it..." he said and nodded wildly.
"Are you the priest?"
"No no...I am recruiting people FOR the priest.."
"You are joking right? This is London..there are no such things are dead body drivers...it is a Chinese legend I saw once on TV.."
"Why don't you come with me and find out?" Ian repeated with a wide smile.


"Go with you where exactly?"
"To meet the Driver and help to escort the bodies..it sounds kind romantic, doesn't it?"
"Why don't you load the bodies onto a truck and drive them home literally?"

"What's the fun in that?" Ian said and emptied his glass.






................................................................................................................................................................
Part 2:  Ender's Journey


  At the break of dawn on Christmas day Ian was waiting for me at the entrance of the small B&B where I was staying. He was standing in front of a wrecked yellow van, smoking a cigar.
"Merry Christmas" he said and took a deep drag before dropping the tortured, wet butt on the ground.
"Where are we going?" I asked skipping the formalities.
"North..." he said. "You'll see, you are going to like it..."
"I'm not sure about that.." I said and climbed on the yellow van which had a strong smell of tobacco and a visible layer of filth everywhere I looked.

Since it was so early and a holiday we were able to leave London behind us in no time. Ian was driving silently and I dozed off, my chin stuck on the mucky window, my cheek slapping the cold glass at every bump on the road.

More than two hours later, I felt the van stop but didn't open my eyes. I thought that if we had arrived, Ian would say so. There were a few moments of silence. The door of the van opened and something heavy and metallic was thrown inside. It made a lot of noise and so I opened my eyes just in time to see Ian sitting on the driver's seat.
"What was that?"

                                                        .                .                .

Ian went back to the van and brought out two heavy shovels, one of which was supposed to be mine.


"In order to drive them, we have to dig them out first!" he said casually and walked through the broken gate.
"They are already IN the ground, why do we have to dig them out?" I shouted running behind him, having already regretted the whole thing.

"They have unfinished business...we have to make sure they... fulfill their purpose.." he said and took out a piece of paper out of his pocket.
"Now be quite and let me find the right graves...we don't want to dig out the wrong people, do we?"
he said and walked up the hill among the half buried tomb stones.
I looked around me holding the heavy shovel in my hand thinking. If worse comes to worst, I will smash his head with the shovel, take the van, go back to London, pick up my things and run to the airport...
"This is the one!" I heard Ian shout in the distance.
Holding in the shovel in my hands I walked up the hill.



"This is the first one. "Ian said hearing my footsteps behind him.
"It is a very old grave Ian. There would nothing in there but bones...this is not how it supposed to be done..."
"Appearances don't count Enders. Now lets get to work. The whole thing must be done today."
"On Christmas? Why?"
He turned around and eyed me suspiciously.
"You ask too many questions...Don't tell me you are afraid already.."
"Where is the Dead Body Driver? Isn't he going to come?" asked gripping the shovel.
"Oh, the Driver will be here soon. Now lets start digging, shall we?"

To make matters worse, Ian pulled out of his pocket a red Santa Claus hat, placed it on his bushy hair and smiled.

"It is Christmas after all! Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way.." he sang and hit the ground hard with his shovel.
I shook my head, took a deep breath and followed suit.

It didn't take us long to hit the wooden box.
"Are we going to open it?" I asked apprehensively.
"No, not yet. Let's dig out the other two. This way..."he said pointing to the right.
                                 .                    .                    .

I worked silently under the dull sky with Ian's Christmas singing in my ears never letting the heavy shovel out of my hands. I could have thrown him inside the grave he was so furiously digging at any time but I guess curiosity took the best of me.
A couple of hours later all three rotten boxes were laying on the ground side by side.
"Right on time." Ian said looking in the distance behind me.  "The Dead Body Driver is here and she's right on time!"

(photo by takeyourhatred@deviantart)

Dusk, like a veil, fell over the hill. The trees had turned into ghostly, dark silhouettes dancing mutely in the cold wind. It was as if all sound was sucked up by the cloaked, tiny figure I saw climbing up the hill. I watched her mesmerised feeling my heart fluttering like a caged bird inside my rib cage.
 Upon reaching the top, she came to a half and slowly pulled down her black hood releasing her fiery locks over her shoulders.

Amidst the falling darkness, her face was glowing.

"Hello Enders." She said to me in a soft voice though I did not see her lips move. "I am glad you came. Ian you did well."
Ian had bowed his head, his chin touching his chest and he did not look up until she stood over the boxes.
"They are ready for you my Mistress." he said.
The woman raised her eyes and pinned them in mine. Her eyes matched her hair..

"Who are you?" I muttered
"I am the Driver, Enders." she said and with wave of her hand the three boxes broke open revealing the remains of the those who had been buried decades, perhaps centuries ago.
"Why them?" I asked "Where are you supposed to take them?"
"Me?" said asked and bent down to them. "No, not me Enders. I am merely the Driver. It is you that will give the flame that will bring life back into them Enders." she said caressing the rotting limbs.
"It is you who will be the Giver on this blessed Christmas Day." she said and her eyes filled with blood which trickled down her cheeks staining her moon-like face.

"What are you?" I asked stepping back. "This is not right, you are not right. I am leaving now..."
I said and turned around to leave only to find that I hadn't moved a bit.

"What magic is this?" I asked and turned around again.
"It's Christmas magic, Enders. The most powerful kind..."the Driver said
"Ho Ho Ho." added Ian looking at me playfully.

Above the broken bones they made me lie and though I was not pinned down, I couldn't move.
She sang a Christmas song gently into my ear and then she bend low over my neck. The singing had stopped.
 ..........................................................

"Sir...SIR! WAKE UP SIR! This is not the place to sleep..."
I opened my eyes and was instantly blinded by the light around me.
"Where am I?" I whispered.
"At St. Pancras railway station, sir. Are you a passenger?"
"A passenger? No!"
I stood up, feeling very weak and numb all over. "Which city is this?" I asked.
"London, sir. Are you feeling alright, would you like me to take you to the police station?"
"No, no thank you. I'll manage."
"Happy New Year Sir, take care now.."
"Merry Christmas  you mean...It's Christmas today..."
"No." the man said slowly. "Christmas was last week. Today is New Year's Day."
"No, that can't be.." I mumbled.
"I assure you that it is. Good day sir." said the man in the uniform and walked away.

Before Christmas: The revelation of the toy soldiers.

I'm pacing back and forth in my room, the three letters burning my hand.

In her tiny, hurrying handwriting, she is unfolding her bitter, sickening story of how she came to be one of the eternal children living in Santa's den, and everything she's seen in her 100 years of undying servitude. Forever trapped in a child's body, eternally bowing to a guilt-driven monster.

The boxes on the toy soldiers lay empty at my feet and I look at them in horror.

She made them...she made them all...and know what must I do?

Do I go for the last box? Do I open it or bury it somewhere deep? What should I do?

 What would you do if you knew?

 

Toy Soldier 1: The first letter

(painting by XUE WANG)

"..Soon he is going to come for inspection again so I have only a few minutes left to complete this letter. It too will be placed inside a toy soldier box. This is my final act of desperation. Three boxes, three toy soldiers all ready to go into the bag.
It was in that bag, that blood-stained, putrid-smelling bag that I was brought to this place, not knowing what had happened to me.
I was only seven years old when he shoved that chlorophorm rag under my nose. I was only seven when he buried his teeth inside my skin and turned me into this. A vampire child, his little helping elf.
A hundred children, this is how many we are, blood slaves, feeding on eachother's blood and he on us, until the end of time. Santa's little helpers...
 Sometimes one of us gets lucky and manages to escape this eternal torture by finding a hole inside this torture chamber of a mansion and running right into the sun turning into ashes. It is such a release to know that the next lucky one could be me. But the hole is immediately mended and more blood is spilled as an example to the rest of us.
By the following evening that child is replaced by another...and another.

I can hear his boots echoing in the corridor.....he's here!"

Toy Soldier two: Santa

(painting by XUE WANG)

"Every Christmas my mum would ask me to write him a letter. I was always a good girl and he always brought me what I asked for present.

"But how will he come into our house mama?"
"Down the chimney dear.." my ignorant mother would answer.

Now hear the truth and guard your chidren night and day. Don't let them out of your sight not even where you think they are safe.
Santa Claus is a 300 year-old, blood-thirsty fiend who lives century after century feeding on the same children he makes presents for, the same children he visits on Christmas night, the same children he turns into slaves.
He creeps into their bedrooms and selects the ones he will haunt in the new year, the ones he will feed upon. He flies through the night sky and magically trasforms into something small that will help him sneak inside your home through the narrow chimney.
He's clothes a cheap facade to hide his cadaverous form, his moustache and beard are mere tricks to hide his sharp canines and powerful jaw.

The coca-cola company did the rest.

Santa Claus, the only undead out in the open, has managed to enter your hearts in such a way that he is always invited to your homes and needs no special invitation..."


Toy Soldier 3: My last act of desperation.



  (painting by XUE WANG)

"If you have managed to gather all the boxes, if you have read all my lines know this: there is another box that you must find.
In that last box I have placed my limbs side by side, the limbs I cut with the kitchen knife, my head and torso are there too...waiting to spring to life...by you.
I dismantled myself, in order to escape the evil fiend, the only way I knew; by turning myself into one of his toys and sneaking out the way I was carried in; inside his horrid bag.
Once you find me you will surely think I am broken or dead though I will be neither.
Don't be hasty...
Arrange my pieces as they were and spill some blood inside my mouth.
My eyes will open and I shall heal, with so many secrets to reveal....
I've sent this box along with the others. I don't know whether I will live if nobody bothers.


  I hope it is you who opens it and not some innocent child.

Therefore, I thank you in advance,

Yours truly,


Lulu "

What should I do.....?

The Omnipotence of Persistence: The true story of an eternal strap-hanger.

Here I am on the crowded bus, hanging from the worn-out strap, pretending to be afraid of losing my balance.
It is raining outside and the people are running away from the soft raindrops that land on the bus window and trickle all the way down to the road. I can see the little transparent ribbons they leave behind through the misty windows.
A little girl, sitting on her mother's lap, is drawing smileys with her finger. She is so sweet and her smell is piercing my heart.

The bus stops suddenly and half the passangers in front me land on my back. I think I should fall backwards a little as a natural reaction to the weight. They apologise one by one and I smile. A young woman locks her eyes on mine and stares. I smile politely and look away. I know she is still staring but her mind will settle any dark thoughts that might have crossed her mind.

It was on this very bus that I saw her and although my mind worked hard on my dark thoughts, it didn't succeed in tearing her off my heart.
Her blue eyes and the ring of her laughter haunts me night and day. Her smell, her warmth made me feel I can find love again, after a hundred years of loneliness.
It was I that stared, it was I that couldn't tear my eyes off her slim, oval face, it was my mind that clung on her rosy cheeks and soft lips. It was I that faltered and left her walk away.

How many weeks, or it is months, years or perhaps decades...I cannot tell. Time means nothing to me. I believe in the omnipotence of persistence; it is the flame that kindles my hope of making her mine. Because she will be mine once I find her again.

One way or another.

Greece Reloaded (Post- crisis massacre)

Prelude

And so it had come to this.
The once victorious Athenians succumbed to hunger, despair and their own bitter winter.
With no money to buy food, no petrol to warm their homes and fuel their cars, with even their faithful Sun hidden behind thick, grey, clouds for days in a row, raw fear started to run inside their veins. Fear for their children, for themselves, for the future.
The Athenians had no food left to eat. The supermarkets stood desolate and empty. The street markets had turned to graveyards of broken crates and rotting fruit. Rats had claimed them all, rats and cockroaches.

 The lucky few who had managed to steal the last few cans of imported food had digested them already. There was nothing else to feed upon but a long forgotten hope.
Caged in their concrete fortresses, wrapped in blankets, the Athenians tried to think of a way out, tried to find salvation in the few gardens here and there were feeble fruit trees grew to now avail.
 And so they streamed the dirty, narrow streets. 6 million of them, looking for salvation in the countryside where things grew still and trees bore fruit.

The villagers who had already suffering from post-crisis losses of their own, were terrified to see the throngs of starved, frost-bitten people attacking their fields and livestock. There was absolutely nothing they could do to prevent catastrophe.

As a reporter, I have seen many horrifying things; I've been through battles, bombings, exemplary decapitations, therefore, I am not easily shocked.
When my editor told me to come to Athens and find the real cause of this so-called disease, I thought nothing of it. So the Greeks were losing their marbles. I was never convinced these people had any to begin with.

"Madness blankets the country" "Violent outbursts....terrible death tolls"
 "Politicians being devoured on the central square"
"Greeks feed on their ministers, the taxi drivers are next!"
"A whole race under extinction"
 Blah blah blah....everyone knows the press cannot be trusted. I know 'cause I'm it!

There was nobody waiting for me at the airport. Hundreds of people were sleeping on the floor waiting for their only possible means of escape, knowing well that there were not going to be able to buy another plane ticket ever again.
Their eyes locked on me hungrily as I walked by them. Bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes, full of anger and despair.
El. Venizelos lounge was so packed that several armed policemen kept the sliding doors closed at all times. One of them, a confused, little man, escorted me out, from a door at the back.
Though is was not noon yet, it felt like dusk. The bitter wind slashed on my face as I started my long walk towards the capital. There was no vehicle in sight; only a slow-moving stream of people, walking silently, zombie-like towards the departure gate.
 I was the only one moving towards the city on the vast highway feeling their angry, bloodshot eyes on me.

Bloodshot eyes...What the hell was going on? I still ask myself that question.

I saw the orange lights of the flaming city before I set foot on it. Bonfires were popping one after the other. Then,  the smell of meat reached my nostrils, making my mouth water as I hadn't eaten for many hours.

Were these marbleless people celebrating something I didn't know about?

"The power was cut a week ago. I have not way to recharge my phone or my laptop. All I have is this stupid recorder and the batteries in my pocket.
All of them are dead. Dead. Extinct.
I saw the last one almost a week ago making sure he doesn't get a whiff of me.
I'm hungry.
Last night I heard a man singing. I'm planning to go all the way up to the Parthenon as soon as my feet can take me. From up there I'll have a better view of the city. If there is any sign of life, I'll see it.

(I haven't eaten anything since the day before yesterday. Could I eat human flesh at this point? Affirmative.)

Climbing....up...the sacred hill of the Parthenon...
I can hear a man's voice. There is someone alive...up there.
He is .....singing.
I am climbing as......fast as I can.

 ........................Horror, what new horror is this?...it's beyond description!

The marbles of the temple.....are splattered red...it's...BLOOD....broken....human limbs are scattered everywhere. ...I'm going to be sick...
(.......)

I have found the last; the very last Athenian.
He is perched on a broken marble column...holding a piece of meat in his bloody hands.
His eyes are blood-red, his beard is coated with grime,  tears are running down his cheeks.
He is singing! I'm trying to make out the words...this is a rough translation.

I recognize you by the sharpness
of your fearsome sword,
I recognize you by the gleam
with which you rapidly survey the earth.

From the sacred bones,
of the Greeks arisen,
and strengthened by your antique bravery,
hail, o hail, Liberty!

BLOODY HELL!
............................................He is singing the national anthem!"

Halloween Evil. A story written by 12-year-old Ageliki.

It was almost winter in England and all the children were ready for the following night; the night of Halloween.
All the kids had bought their costumes, their pumpkins and the candy bags.
The whole place was so frightening with the graves around the houses and the skeletons perched on the ground.
What they didn't know was that every 1000 years at midnight the Earth breaks in two parts and all the monsters and freaks that you can think of come out. They also drink people's blood. But if you kill Evil, all the freaks will disappear.
The next night the children were knocking on the doors asking for sweets but when the clock struck 12 all changed. The plastic skeletons and zombies started to walk, the lights were shimmering and the graves were already open.
The wind was blowing harder and harder every minute. All the people were very scared and ran to their homes.
Suddenly a voice started talking and said: " Monsters and freaks, tonight is out night. The night of Evil! Please...enjoy it! Ha ha ha!"
All the people were dead excect a girl that the previous night had hidden in a loft. The next day the monsters were away and she decided to go underground and meet Evil.
In the afternoon she went to a cemetery, pressed a stone and opened a secret gate.
She was walking along when she suddenly saw Evil sitting on his throne. She came closer and asked him:
"Why did you kill my family and my friends?"
"I killed them because that is my job" Evil answered.
She started crying more and more and then she took a silver stake and pinned it to his heart. A minute later he  had already evaporated.
When she left that place and came home she observed that the people were alive again and all the damaged had disappeared.
She looked at the calendar and saw that the date was the 30th of October and that the following night was Halloween again! However she thought that she had already killed Evil which means that the monsters have disappeared.
The night of Halloween was a very exciting night and without monsters.

Alithia's Samhain.

 Samhain.

Alithia lit a solitary, white candle and placed it on the narrow window sill and sang:

"With this candle

and by its light

I welcome ye spirits

This Samhain night!

May you send out energy to guide the dead to the other side" she said and looked outside on the newborn night rubbing her moist hands on her black ashen skirts.
"Six hours to go and lots to do." she muttered and went back to her steaming pewter cauldron boiling in the centre of the small room.

"Unwanted spirits I call thee" she chanted,

"I call thee into the light,

guardian spirits I call thee,

I call thee into the light,

herb and candle burn away,

lingam stone will clear the way,

go back to where you need to be,

leave my home just to me.."

Green smoke filled the air and she coughed but continued to stir silently her magic brew which was so thick now that she had to pull and push her oak ladle with both hands.

"Welcome winter, waning season,

now with night the New Year comes;

Hail the horse's head with blessings-

Blessings be on those who bide here

and indeed on all the world."

Her hair was falling wet on her forehead, losing some of its fiery glow and stuck on her sweaty cheeks as she sang her sacred song. She knew the time drew near for the offering which signalled that the potion was ready. 

She pulled the fat rooster from a basket underneath the table and stood above the rising steam. The poor creature sensed that its end drew near and fluttered its wings and shriek, but not for long.

With a small unceremonious twist of her fingers and a short turn of her dagger the witch beheaded the animal and emptied its blood in the brew. 

"Earth and Water, Fire and Sky

I invoke the God on high

This night we are Between the Worlds

To celebrate the year unfurled!"

Two more hours had passed and now Alithia, crouching low, was pulling glass phials the size of her palms from the bottom kitchen cupboard and hurriedly placed them in a neat row on the heavy oak table. 

"One, two three..." she counted and stopped when their number was 12. 

Using an old copper funnel she filled all 12 phials with the green potion that was now emitting a strong smell of  rosemary and sage and corked them tightly. When all of them were ready, she smiled to herself and started stashing them in her countless skirt pockets until they were so heavy she had to pull them all up again and tie another apron around her waist to keep them from falling again.
She picked up a few acorns, the fruits of the sacred oak and a secret message to those she wanted to reveal what she was, and placed them on her head, underneath her fiery curls and pulled her black hat over her ears as hard as she could. Wrapping her woollen shawl tightly around her shoulders she opened the door. The glass phials in her pockets clanked happily as she stepped into the Samhain night.

All fires extinguished, Alithia walked past the dark houses where a single light on the window sills burnt to guide the dead across the veil. That light was the only evidence that people dwelled in the village.

Soon, one by one, the doors of the houses opened and the people streamed into the street with only a Jack- o - lantern to show them the way.

A bonfire was to be lit on the top of the hill tonight, the mother of all  the fires of the coming winter.

Alithia moved slowly through the procession while more doors opened  and men, women and childern moved silently uphill, the small lanterns in their hands dancing back and forth.

A yellow glow reached her eyes the higher uphill she went. Her heart filled with anticipation; this was the night of all nights; this was the witch's night.  She pulled her hat over her ears again and caressed one of the small bottles in her apron pocket.

(painting by Terrauh Barret)

Alithia looked around searching for a sign that the witches were here and that the ritual was about to begin. She didn't have to wait long because a woman  in a black cloak came out of the trees right at the edge of the forest. Soon, she was approached by another who putting something in her hand was allowed to enter the forest. That small gesture was all Alithia wanted to see.

Slowly and without attracting attention she walked towards the woman, pulled an acorn from under her hat and slid it inside the waiting woman's hand without saying a word. She felt the woman's eyes on her face from underneath her cloak. Silently, the woman pulled aside and let her pass. Alithia walked inside the dark forest feeling certain that in this moonless night she was going to be lost. 

She would have been for sure if another woman holding a Jack- o - Lantern didn't appear in the darkness. Relieved, Alithia slid another one of her acorns in her hand and the witch pulled aside.  

Now she was walking uphill, the trees were pulling away so the darkness around her became less dense with every step. She was able to see them long before she reached the top; A dozen witches had already gathered on the top of that hill, the ritual was about to begin.  

.......................................................

"Dark Mother, Goddess of Death and Rebirth, 

Ruler of the night,

assist me in my magickal rite.

Lift the veil between the worlds,

as this time-out-of-time begins and as the barrier thins.

I ask for your blessing and guidance as I commune with my ancestors

this Samhain night."

All twelve women in unison chanted into the night. Alithia's pockets were empty and she was feeling lighter than air. The little vials were given to the witches who now held them tightly in their hands waiting for the right moment to break them open at their feet. 

"Dark Father, aged Consort of the Crone,

Lord of the Underworld,

I ask for your blessing and favour on this magickal night,

and during this rite.

Keep safe my ancestors as they come to me,

from the other side of the Veil,

for me to hear and see."

One by one the witches cast their phials to the ground where they smashed filling the air with a dense green mist that covered the entire hill. All of them were silent as the portal, firstly as soft as a smoke ring and gradually more solid, appeared in front of them.

The circle was broken by the souls of the recently dead who glided past them and walked through the veil and into the other side. 

Some faces were smiling, others were looking around them confused but each and every one of them was guided through.

Some of the witches wept when they saw the faces of their beloved ones, who waved goodbye for one last time. 

More and more people came and walked inside the veil. Alithia tore her eyes off them to look at the ones who were waiting for them on the other side. Thin silhouettes of men, women and children were waiting for their loved ones with open arms, to take them into the other side.

There was a man standing at the far corner of the door on the side of the dead. He didn't seem to be waiting for anyone but was rather looking at her with longing eyes. She knew that man, she knew who he was. Her mouth fell open but she forced it shut with her hand.

"Father?" Alithia mouthed and her eyes filled with tears. Though her father had passed away more than a decade before she had never expected him to come for her.

"Father." she said again and the man nodded. Lifting his hand he waved at her and smiled. 

This was night of all nights, the night Alithia spent with the man she loved the most and had missed so; her father had come back for her and was now filling her with joy.

None of the women moved for the entire night, not until all souls were guided through.

Then the sky flushed with the first touch of  Sun and the magic mist scattered in the air. Only then did the witches sat on the ground to rest, but none of them found the strength to speak. 

Samhain had ended but their Gathering had just began, they had plenty of time for words. 

The Glass Box (Amont Paole)

(photo by morbidlybubbly@deviantart.com)

"...my father had built the glass box to use it as a greenhouse a few months before his death. The first time I saw it, it scared the living shit out of me. But I was only a boy back then, I couldn't see its potential.
After my mother's death I was left all alone with it. Me and the glass box. I decided to stay in it for a few days  just to see what it felt like. I liked it but I felt unsafe a little too exposed. Everyone could break the glass and kill me in there, steal my things. So I replaced the glass and installed a state-of-the-art laser alarm, it felt better then.

It had never occurred to me that I would ever use it as a prison cell but there you go. Life works in mysterious ways I guess...
You know I am not a freak, a serial killer or a nut.... I am a business man on the verge of a breakthrough here. I have managed to subtract, with Amont's help of course this new substance we both love, 100% natural and without the usual side-effects, that has changed your life as much as it has changed mine.
And I owe it all to Amont..my beloved prisoner, our beloved dead prisoner, who is very much alive. Weak but alive and productive.
Since Amont moved in the glass box I had to make some changes to accommodate his needs. I removed all blinds from the windows and cut some of the trees around the box which blocked the sun. I made a smaller, completely dark brick box inside it so that Amont can rest during the day and I had to buy all the necessary tubes and needles for home blood transfusion, at least until I find a way to solve Amont's feeding problem. I have done everything in my power to make this happen for us. But now I need help and this is when you come in V. I mean look at me, I am half drained already."

"Why the history lesson, Dave? What is it that you want from me this time?"

"Oh, baby don't be like that.... What I want is a little of your blood in exchange for some more of the sweet super hero syrup you like so much. You don't have to give any money this time...just some blood, that's all I ask."
"Will you let me see him then?"
"Oh no..."
"I want to see him, talk to him, see what's he like.."
"I'm afraid that's impossible... we've been through this before. No one sees Amont, no one talks to Amont and that is my final word.."
"Why?"
"Because I don't trust anyone with him, let alone you....."
"I am not giving you anything unless I see the source with my own eyes."
"You are in no position to make requests V. No donation, no syrup."

I closed my eyes and tried to remember my life before Amont's sweet syrup that changed my life. Before being invincible, dangerous, enchanting. As much as I tried I couldn't or didn't want to. I guess I've pushed that part of my life into oblivion. I would never risk losing the syrup, never.

Dave smiled, pulled a long tourniquet from his back pocket and lifting my sleeve he tied it around my arm.

"This won't hurt a bit, I've grown very good at this.." he said and took out a large sausage-size injection from the desk drawer.
"Isn't this too little? I mean, he is a fully grown, male vampire, isn't he?" I asked and felt my blood rising on my face."
" We don't want to invigorate him...we just want to keep him...productive. Oh.. calm down V." Dave said caressing my flushed cheek. "You watch too many movies. Like I said, he is not anything special."
"Why don't you let me see him then? What are you afraid of...is he handsome in a very undead way? How old is he then? 100? More? And what's with his name? Amont...where is he from?"

Dave tore the needle off arm making me jump. "We're done" he said. "This is your thank you gift, enjoy it V."
I took the took the tiny, plastic container in my hands and gave it a kiss. "Thanks Dave, see you tomorrow." I said.
"You can stay here if you like..."
"Bye." I spat and ran off the back door.
From the back gate I could see the glass roof of the box. The sun was directly above it. The vampire must be cooking like pop corn in the microwave oven...poor thing.

(vampire by Lotte@deviantart)

A few blocks down the street Fresh Kills park, my personal favourite, spreads its 8 903.08413 square metres in multiple glorious ways which enable me to take advantage of my syrupy powers in the maximum.


First I swallow the thick, sweet substance Amont has so marvellously produced and then I lie on my back. 
Gradually my heart slows down and I start to smell the grass under my head and the ground beneath it. Then I take a deep breath smelling the whole planet itself and everything on it; people, cars, buildings, trash, animals, trees.. such a sweet universal smell.


My eyes travel on the creases of the clouds and the light around them. I can hear the light of the sun sizzling on their surface and can hear the air pushing them slowly aside. 
Everything slows down. The insects freeze in mid air and hover above my head, the granules of dirt pivot around themselves before they settle on my skin,  sun light becomes tangible and I feel warm. 
I stretch my legs and pull myself up. I am ready for the glass cage. I am going to see the vampire with my own eyes, I don't care what Dave says, I've waited long enough.
I watch the sun melting behind the low hills and I jump over the high hedge that surrounds Dave's house.
I can already hear Dave sleeping on the top floor. He has left the TV on in the living room too. Typical Dave..

 It was almost completely dark when I pressed my palm on the glass. The box was empty. It fell empty, it sounded empty, it was empty.
Panic washed over me. The vampire had escaped, no more blood, it was all over. I am never going to see him now, I shouldn't have waited all this time. 
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the glass. Damn!

(photo by MaryCherryMe@deviant art)

A tiny vibration on the glass was all I felt and so I slowly peeled my head away from the cold surface of the glass. Scalding copper eyes were looking back at me from a sunburnt face, all red and tender. He was looking at me with a wide, sweet smile on his face. He raised his left eyebrow provokingly yet undeniably sexy burning my mind.
"Amont" I exhaled.
"In the flesh" he mouthed back. "Hello beautiful.." he said and waved his fingers playfully.
I stared at the godly face behind the glass and took a step backwards to take him all in.
"You can see me better if you let me out, or if you come in. Isn't it why you're here?" He asked resting on his elbows against the glass.
"I don't know why I'm here Amont. Perhaps I ....."
"You shouldn't be afraid of me. You know that. It is good that you came to see me. I am happy and if you help me, I will make you happy too....in many different ways." His copper eyes caught my reflection so tenderly, it was obvious that he meant it. We could be together, I felt it, for always.
"I see your eyes are all blurry. You've been drinking my sweet blood, haven't you? Did you like it?" he asked me childishly.
"Yes.."I whispered.
" I will give you a lot more of what you want, not just a sip like he does...as much as you like. I can even turn you if you want, make you like me, be together...if you want...you are so beautiful...you can be even more...yes...for ever..Alas!" he said and pulled himself away from the glass.
I saw him walk towards the small brick box at the back of the glass cell and kneeling down he went inside.

"Wait...please wait." I said and glued my face on the glass. "How do I open this thing? Can't you  just break the glass?"
Still sitting on the floor he causally ran his fingers through his hair and laughed loudly shaking his head.
"Unfortunately, as you can see, I am not in the best of shapes." he said softly.

I went to the door and pushed a few digits on the grey key pad Dave had installed to no avail. I tried to think of a possible password but I knew there was no way of finding the right password tonight or on any other night. I looked back at him and punched in more numbers.
Frustration and impatience started to bottle up so, without thinking, I grabbed the key pad with both hands and ripped it right of its socket. This turned out to be a very bad idea. Red lights appeared on the sides of the roof and the whole box suddenly turned red.
I turned around to check whether Dave was already on his way here and felt smoky arms wrapping around my neck. Amont had pushed the door open and was dragging me inside.
"I know who you are" he said and inhaled deeply..."You are that meagre lunch that boy gave me. You donated your blood for me? Oh...this is so sweet." he said softly and buried his face in my hair inhaling loudly.
"Are you going to kill me now?" I muttered "I am the one who set you free..Please."
Why had I come here? Why did I have to see him, why? Hot tears burnt my cheeks and I opened my mouth to scream.
"Shh Shh, Oh no no..." he whispered. "Amont Paole has always been true to his word." he said. "After I feed on you I am going turn you. Tonight IS you lucky night after all my sweet girl." he said and pushed me to the floor.

(photo by x-Afridite-x@deviantart)


Light. All this light is hurting my eyes. Can somebody turn off the fucking lights?
"ANYBODY??"
I close my eyes and wait for the light to go away. I feel hungry and achy, I want to go home, I want my old life back...
. . .
"V! Come out V. Let me see your face now!"
"Dave? Is that you? Oh Dave I'm so sorry!"
I crawl out of the small  dark box and look around. I am inside the glass box.
"Oh No No Dave...let me out!" I glue my palms on the glass and look at my old friend's face.
"I am sorry V. I told you could not see him. This is all your choice."
"Please let me out..please Dave."
"I told you V. I am a businessman, you know I can't do that. Of course your blood won't be as valuable as his, but it's better than nothing. I'm sorry but the glass box is your new home now." he said and walked away.
"See you later!" he shouted.
"I AM NOT GIVING YOU MY BLOOD! HE'LL COME BACK FOR ME AND HE'LL EAT YOU WHOLE YOU BASTARD! COME BACK!" I yelled back and punched the glass as hard as I could.

Mi Tortura (HTB)

(Chapel of All Saints, Kutna Hora, Czech Republic)


No one can sacrifice a person on the altar (or elsewhere for that matter) better than I.
By trusting my inner wisdom in the art, I know how to give a clear and easy death to my offerings without looking twice at the material at hand.
Thin, fat, muscular, bony, woman, man, they all die gracefully in my hands. 
I cut, slice, poke, carve, cleave, dissect, hack, sever, flay..all according to the cult I work for at the time. I am the one who does it all and does it well!

I don't need any bloody book to remind me of my lines. I know all the books by heart. Their grammar and intonation, punctuation and articulation, I know it all!
 For the past 14 years I have sacrificed hundreds of people gracefully, respectively and sometimes spectacularly.
Yes, I have made mistakes but mistakes are a vital part of the learning process. Having made mistakes does not mean that I deserved the job at the High Temple of Blood (HTB) less than anyone else.

Despite what happened, I still feel I was most suitable for the job.

When I sharpen my knives I do not like to be disturbed. 
This is because I want to be fully concentrated on the crucial task. I see my equipment as an extension of myself and I respect myself as I respect the people I am going to sacrifice tonight, therefore I am careful and thorough.When sharpening a cleaver the movement should be even slower, more deliberate and upwards, never lose eye contact with the blade.
 You can imagine my vexation when the phone rang.
When I picked up the phone and heard the lady identifying herself I dropped the damned thing.
It is not everyday that I receive a call from the HTB.


"I have your CV in my hand."  she said "We are in need of a high priestess immediately especially one with heavy blade experience. How soon can you come over?"
"I can be there in half an hour." I replied leaving the cleaver on the floor.

"We are looking for a person to cover Satan's upcoming offerings, 8 per week in total. As you know HTB is the only temple with Biblical Authorisation, which we are very proud of, and we expect you to meet our standards." the woman behind the heavy bone-made desk said.
I looked around the small room. Everything down to the last detail was made of skulls and bones. Nothing went to waste here.
"I have a small collection of skulls myself." I said. "Some relatives, from my early life and some ex-boyfriends, if you know what I mean..."
"Oh, yes." The woman nodded. "I have some of those myself."
We smiled at each other. It was obvious that we had a mutual understanding. Despite the pompous surroundings the woman's heart was in the right place.
"We are going to call you tonight to let you know, but I am very pleased.." she said and walked out of the room, purple robes ballooning behind her.
I caressed the  small skull on my armrest and gave it a small peck. I was elated.
 The universe was finally returning my calls.

A few hours later the phone rang:
"....you see, what bothers my employer is your lack of BSR (Bachelor in Satan Rituals). All our Priestesses own that degree, but because I liked you so much I would like you to come over tomorrow and perform a ritual in front of my employer, grade C, child offering, dagger." said the woman over the phone.
My heart sank. I hate it when my emotions roller coaster like that. I could feel my stomach seal its doors, Serotonin was leaving the building. I was being rejected.

"In the name of Satan.." my voice bounced on the walls as I extended my dagger to the South,
"...Lord of the Infernal Regions; Lucifer...." I turned to the East,
"Bringer of light and wisdom; Belial.." I turned to the North,
" King of the Earth; Leviathan.." I turned to the West..
"Ruler of the watery Abyss, I command the forces of Darkness to bestow their infernal power over me..." I looked up at the ceiling but it was lost in the shadows and the smoke from the countless bone candle holders spread in the room.
"Open wide the gates of hell..." I yelled confidently to the hooded people below me who bowed their heads even more. The woman from the interview was standing at the very back and was smiling at me.
"...and come forth from the abyss..." I could do this, if their decision was to be based on my work then I had no option but to succeed.
"...in answer to your most unholy names...." the door was slowly pushed open and a beautiful woman in a glittering silver robe entered the room and glided to the skull throne opposite me. I took a deep breath and lifted up the dagger I had brought from home.
. . .
The lady walked out before I finished my last lines which was not a good sign. The vibrations I got from her as she glided out of the hall were as low as the offering's blood pressure. That is why I was not very surprised when a few hours later the woman called and without clarifying the reasons she told me that the HTB had rejected me. 
She was polite though.
Rejection is not something I take lightly especially when I do not know the reasons that caused it. I feel cheated and weak, I feel tortured.
As I'm completing the sharpening of the cleaver I'm thinking of the Cthulhu cult that has booked me for tonight. I love rituals performed by the sea at night; it's the smell of the salty air, the moon shining above me. Being a freelancer is not such a bad thing after all. I get to meet so many different cultures and get to kill so many different people. Some day the HTB will open its doors for me. For that I am sure.
...still these thoughts aren't making me feel any better.
Unfortunately, rejection is not something I take lightly.

How it should be.

Posting videos is not really my style, but this one feels like it was ripped right off  the core of my brain so I hand it over to you. A little something to start off this second blogging year.

I hope it gives you pleasure.

Eternally yours,

Alithia Pes


P.S. If your wish is to pause the music of the blog, the pause button is under Soundtrack on the bottom right corner.

Time...dies.

(painting by Natalia Naka Adamska)

The Nursery. (Days 1 to 3)

Day 1: Snow White and the seven Dwarves.

"Welcome my new little Prince, sooo happy to see you again...Oh he'll be just fine Mrs Silver, we always take good care of our newcomers, especially if they are as sweet as this one. Don't you worry about a thing...come alone sunshine, let me show you around..." said the beady-eyed woman bending down towards the little boy; me; James Silver aged 4 and a half.

"Bye Mum...don't worry about me, this school looks swell..." I lie to my poor mother who is already late for her new morning job and looks so worried; her forehead is wrinkled all the way up to the roots of her hair.

"Yes..."my mother says sniffing around. " You have fun now and I'll see you in a few hours...take care." She says and her voice falls to a whisper: "If you don't like it here, we'll find a new school, don't worry love.." I know she means it, she always does. I have a good Mum.

I smile back and nod while she opens the heavy wooden door of the nursery school and walks out back first into the street. A rush of fresh air hits my face and I realise why Mum was sniffing; this school smells funny.

The door closes with a thud and I look up at the fat lady who reminds me of the evil Gormiti.
"OK, James, it is time to meet your teacher Miss White and your six classmates, come along now.."

I bow my head obediently and the both of us move into the bowels of the school. We open doors and move through dark corridors, I can see shadows moving in the darkness, they are short like me but completely silent, unlike me.

The first faint light appears from underneath a door.

"This is your classroom dear. Try not to make much noise now; listen- Miss White is reading a story...."

"In the candlelight?" I ask, "Why don't they turn on the lights?"

"Oh, It is better like this dear, candles create such a soothing atmosphere..Go sit inside the chalk circle with the other kids.. go! Miss White we have a new pupil, Mr James Silver."

The black haired, willowy woman comes towards me and bends down to my eye level....My mouth is dry and suddenly, I need to pee..

Day 2: Alice in Wonderland

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO GO BACK THERE JAMES... THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT PLACE..."

"Please don't shout Mum.. I like it I want to go back...please, we are going to be late.."

"And how come you are so eager? From what you told me all your teacher did yesterday was read you stories...that's it.."

"I like stories, you know I do...and she...reads them well.."

"I am trying to locate another school, you go today, perhaps tomorrow and that is it. Moving away was not a good idea after all...."

"C'mon...we are going to be late."

"Today and perhaps tomorrow and THAT'S IT!"

"Fine..can we go now?"

"That school smells funny..."

"Let's go!!"

.............................................................................................

"Good morning Mrs Silver...Hello James..." the Gormiti woman says.

"Are we late? Have they started yet?" I can't wait for her answer. I am late I can feel it.  I hurry inside and don't bother saying good bye...I push at the heavy door with all my weight and speed inside the school. The smell is stronger today, the deeper I go the more it makes my eyes water..I hope I am not late.

I run down the corridor but I am not afraid of getting lost, I follow the moving shadows, as quiet as they are,...they show me the way...my throat burns..I need to find the classroom...I mustn't disobey.

"TAKE ME TO THE RIGHT DOOR!" I shout and start running again.

Finally I stand before the heavy door.... I can see the dim light coming from the crack underneath it. I push it open and walk into the candle light. Six pairs of eyes slash at my face and my eyes drop to the floor.

I AM late. Crap!

I silently walk inside the chalk circle and sit without bothering with my coat. 

"I am sorry for being late Miss White." I don't even dare look up at her. 

"Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting! the rabbit said and ran off again" resumes Miss White in a buttery voice. "But Alice catches the rabbit in the end, oh yes..she did...didn't you Alice?" she asks piercing a little girl with her eyes.

"Yes, I did Miss." says the girl sitting on the other side of the circle. I pull myself a little forward to see her better. 

"Come Alice!" Miss White says and bends down to a large box next to her. Alice stands up and walks to the centre of the circle facing Miss White. She has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a blue dress with a small white apron on top of it. Something is gleaming in her hand. It is reflecting all the candle light around it.

 A large kitchen knife, that is what it is, the one my Mum calls a cleaver. Alice is holding it tight. It looks so big in her hand. 

Miss White opens up the box and pulls a large, white rabbit from inside. She holds it by the ears as it squeals and squeaks. 

"Alice, show us what it is you did to the rabbit." she says and hands the rabbit to the little girl who grabs it tightly. The rabbit is so big it scratches her knees. Alice lifts the hand with the knife.....

......I need to pee.

Day 3: Hansel and Gretel.

"Peeing your pants one day I can understand, accidents happen...but two days in the row...James...what IS going on in that school? Are you ever going to tell me sweetheart?"

"...................."

"It doesn't matter. I have enrolled you to a fine school outside our enrolment area, a fine school full of light and open spaces...they are waiting for you tomorrow, Mrs Williams, your teacher, has a boy your age, you are going to be best friends, you'll see... You can stay with me today, we'll go to work together, help me do things...we'll have a great time!"

"Why can't I go back this one, last time...I'm never going back there anyway. Just one last time..."

"No, you are never going back there, James...I'm sorry."

"If you let me go, I'll tell you everything that's happened so far...what do you say?"

".............. 

.......................................   Speak!"

.............................................................................

"Some of you will be leaving us soon, so it will be such  a shame not to tell you the lovely story of young Hansel and his little sister Gretel." Miss White begins. 

"Once upon a time...." the story starts and we all sit inside the chalk circle.

"......but the woman had only pretended to be so friendly. In reality, she was a wicked witch who lay in wait for children. After she had captured them, she took them to a special room at the basement of her bread and sugar house and kept them in rusted cages made for animals....Let us all go and see...shall we?" she says and opens a small door at the other side of the classroom revealing a narrow staircase which implied that there were even more rooms below. 

"Hurry!" she says and we all begin to descend the dark staircase, lit only by the light of a few candles on the walls here and there.

The smell is unbearable the further down I go. I have never felt so disgusted in my life. I hold my nose as tight as I can and so do the others. Miss White leads us to an enormous room the size of a football field. There are fires of the walls and muck on the floor. All around us cages are hanging from the ceilings. Some of them are empty some of them are full.

(by Nootoon @toonpool )

"...The witch seized chubby Hansel with her evil hands and shut him in a little cage with a grating in the lid and locked it. Scream as he would, it didn't help him any..." Miss White went on and Hansel's eyes opened wide as Miss White grabbed him from the collar of his shirt and pushed him inside one of the rusty cages hanging from the ceiling. Hansel was startled but didn't scream nor shout; he just looked at his classmates mutely and confused.

"...He has to stay in the cage and get fat, fat, fat...As soon as he's fat...then, we can eat him." Miss White says and moves further inside the room towards another cage. We all follow her like puppies, full of interest and curiosity.
"You!" she shouts, "Put out your finger so I can feel whether you are getting fat!" she said to a shadow of one of the other cages that were hanging mutely from the darkness above.
A small, bony finger appears between the rusty bars, he puts his little finger between the bars and she presses it in her long fingers.

"YOU LIE! YOU LIE! YOU LIE" she bellows and the echo hurts our ears. I try to keep it outside my head. I squeeze my ears shut but still I can hear her words...YOU LIE!

Miss White pulls the cage open and drags a little boy....it was a boy in there....out. He falls in her arms, he is covered in gore and muck...

"LOOK HOW FAT YOU ARE YOU LIAR!" she shouts. "GRETEL...LIGHT THE OVEN....WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A ROASTED BOY TODAY!!!"

A little, skinny girl obeys and walks behind a gigantic metallic box in the centre of the room. There's a loud CLANK and then a sudden soaring fire lights the room so forcefully I shield my eyes with my hand. In a few moment the fire subsides and burning coal is all I can see at the bottom of the oven.

"Crawl in Gretel...see if it's hot enough for our boy to roast.." Miss White calls.

The girl opens the heavy bolt and sizzling heat rushes out burning the girl's curls.

"I don't know how to...How do I get inside?" The girls asks.

Miss White lets out a loud giggle..."Well said Gretel....Well said..." She moves towards the oven dragging the filthy boy behind her..

"We'll peel the clothes off after he's done.." Miss White mumbles.

The oven door opens again and the little boy is tossed inside..the door slams shut. His chubby hands are glued on the burning glass and I feel the heat inside my pants and all the way down to my feet.

"Mum" ...I whisper and try to move but can't. "Mum" I say again and I hear loud voices behind me, doors break open.

"JAMES!"

(painting by Loba Chan)