Arctic Monkeys - 505 (live at Later... )

i'm going back to 505, if its a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive,
in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs,
stop and wait a sec, oh when you look at me like that my darling, what did you expect, i probably still adore you with you hand around my neck,
or i did last time i checked, not shy of a spark, a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark, frightened by the bite though its no harsher than the bark, middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start,
i'm going back to 505, if its a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive,
in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs,
but i crumble completely when you cry,
it seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye,
im always just about to go and spoil a suprise,
take my hands off of your eyes too soon,
i'm going back to 505, if its a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive,
in my imagination you're waiting lying on your side,
with your hands between your thighs and a smile!

Arctic Monkeys - Teddy Picker (Live At Barcelona)

Despair to the point till they provoke The punchline before they have told the joke The sheer desperation to be scene/seen Staring at the television screen
Despair to the point where they provoke You to tell the fucking punchline before you have told the joke Sorry sunshine it doesn´t exist It wasn´t in the top 100 list
And it´s the thousandth time and it´s even bolder, Don´t be surprised when you get bent over, He told ya, that you were gagging for it
She saw it and she grabbed it and it wasn´t what it seemed The kids all dream of making it, whatever that means Another variation on a theme A tangle on the television and the magazine
D´you reckon that they do it for a joke? D´you reckon that they make ´em take an oath?
That says "we are defenders Of any poseur or professional pretender around"
When did your list replace the twist and turn? Ah the fist, replaced the kissed-on concern And if you´re bothered, I don´t want your prayers Save it for the morning after
And it´s the thousandth time and it´s even bolder, Don´t be surprised when you get bent over, He told ya, that you were gagging for it
Lets have a game on the Teddy Picker Not quick enough can I have it quicker?
Already thick and you´re getting thicker Lets have a game on the Teddy Picker
Not quick enough can I have it quicker? Already thick and you´re getting thicker
Asuming that all things are equal, Who´d want to be men of the people When there´s people like you?

The Soothsayer - Malignancy

And their voices drowned in the complete ruins of the rain.

Rois' Diner - Melbourne, Australia. Year 2005.

There were downpour all over the country. Outside the twenty-four hours diner parked a dozen police cars with blazing sirens and two ambulances. The rain hit them mercilessly. A dozen black umbrellas cowered in shivers in face of the storm.

Lieutenant Ron gnawed the tobacco in his mouth like an old goat.

Sergeant Percy brought Sarah Qwek to the lieutenant.

'Lieutenant. She is here. She's the one.'

Lieutenant Ron took a quick look at Qwek and returned his glaze back to the diner. 'Media's crawling over all the place, Percy.' He said.

'I'll get to it. Sir.' Replied the ever efficient sergeant.

'No. no.' Said Lieutenant Ron as he looked at Qwek again. 'Let them see how the chinky rodents are ruining this country. Let them know.'

Sergeant Percy defended Qwek and shot hastily, 'Sir! It is not appropriate!'

Lieutenant Ron spoke without looking at them, 'Yeah. Yeah. Pecker. Go get the girl in.'

As Qwek went along with Sergeant Percy, she stared at Lieutenant Ron and said, 'Fuck you.'

Lieutenant Ron laughed as if he heard the funniest joke in the world.

Sergeant Percy briefed Qwek as they approached the diner in caution, 'Listen carefully. Get her to calm down and drop the gun. Or hold her off as long as you can, until we figure out a way to get you.'

Qwek said in the freezing cold, 'Are you guys going to shoot her?'

Sergeant Percy said, 'Mdm, no promises here. Your friend shot four people dead in there.'

Qwek exclaimed, 'Four! You didn't mentioned about dead people just now!'

Sergeant Percy coaxed, 'You are the only one she wants to see. You need to help her out. Is she not your friend?'

Qwek said, 'Yes. She is.'

And from here, Sarah Qwek went on along. She pushed open the plastic door, held her hands up and entered the dark diner. She saw a couple of bodies moving in the low of the shadowy corner.

'Jane?' Said Qwek recalling that her friend had a gun, was hysterical and shot four people dead. Her voice was almost a whimper. She calmed herself and called out again, 'Jane. It's Sarah. I'm here. Where are you?'

'Sarah!' Masaki ran over from the booth seat at the end and hugged her friend tightly. 'Oh Sarah baby! I'm in so much shit now!'

'Fuck. Jane. What the fuck happened?' Asked Qwek as she sat them down in a booth seat. She could see the police sirens blazing from the glossy window.

'I don't know. I don't know. It was Justin. He made me do it.' Said Masaki in quivering lips, not at all looking at Qwek.

'Where's Justin?'

'There. With his best friends.' Masaki pointed to a corner of three corpses. Justin and his two friends had been shot dead in the head and chest. It was a bloody mess.

'Fuck, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.' Exclaimed Qwek holding her hair, 'Where's your gun?'

'Sarah. Please don't be mad! You need to help me! I have no one to turn to now.' Pleaded Masaki.

'The gun. Jane. Where's the gun?' Repeated Qwek again.

'It's in my pants.'

'Give it to me.' Said Qwek sternly.

'No. Baby. No.'

'You asked for help. Now give me the gun.'

'No.' Said Masaki firmly. She was crying.

'Then I'm going to leave you here. I can't help you.' Explained Qwek.

'Don't.' Begged Masaki as she handed over the gun to Qwek. The piece of tool felt so heavy in her hands.

'Okay. Okay. Next you are going to release them.' Qwek was referring to the dozen of hostages at the bar. They were the common people wanting to have dinner at the diner in shirts and ties. Masaki had them tied and gagged.

'Sit with me. I need this. Talk to me about something else. What are they going to do to me when they caught me?' Asked Masaki in sobs.

'Oh dear.' Said Qwek as she hugged Masaki. 'I don't know.'

'Sit with me. Talk to me about something else. Spend some time with me before they get me.' Said Masaki, holding onto Qwek's sleeve.

'Percy said four. There were four.' Remembered Qwek. 'Jane. There were four deaths.'

'I don't know what you are saying.'

Qwek looked at the hostages. One of the hostage looked to the direction of the kitchen.

'No. Don't go there. Baby.' Fought Masaki.

Qwek went into the kitchen. She saw a lady tied and gagged to the edge of the table. She was unconscious and breathing. There were a trail of blood on the floor leading to the freezer. Qwek opened the door of the freezer and found a dead girl on the icy floor. She looked about five. She was shot in the head. Qwek shut the freezer tightly and mouthed in fear, 'Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god....'

'What have you done? Jane. What happened?' Asked Qwek feeling the blood and the life of hers drained and emptied as she returned to the booth seat.

'It was an accident. I was angry and panicked. I kept firing. And it hit the girl. It was not supposed to. I couldn't face her so I dragged her to a place where I couldn't. Her mother was threatening me. I had to tie her away to a place where I can't face her too.' Said Masaki.

'Oh shit. Oh shit. Jane. What have gotten into you? A killing spree?' Said Qwek.

'Don't judge me. Not when you don't know what they did to me. Don't be that bitch.' Said Masaki.

'Fair enough. I'm sorry. I'm really am.' Qwek said. 'What exactly happened?'

'Can we talk about something else? Just sit down and talk about something else.' Smiled Masaki with tears on her beautiful face. 'Tell me about the book that Blanc wrote. Have you finished it? What happened?'

Qwek sat down and held Masaki's hand. 'Bou Blanc. Ahem. Well. It's like what we said, everything falls apart. It was God's will all along, or so the speculation suggested. It's like Noah Ark again, just that this time, only heaven and hell came under scrutiny. Heaven and hell fold. It appeared that they are mutual and could not exist without one another. They exist to justify each other. I haven't finished the book. The finals are near and I didn't have time to read.'

'You didn't have time for anything else too.' Chided Masaki, releasing her hand from the grip.

'I... Is that so?' Said Qwek. 'Are you blaming me for all these? It's a pretty big responsibility.'

'You're being that bitch.' Scoffed Masaki, 'You knew what I meant. Don't put my head in the water like this. Not in such times.'

'It's pretty fucked up, Jane. You are pretty fucked.' Said Qwek, 'You among most things I can imagine. But a murderer? Jane. I loved you. You have to tell me you don't just go around killing people. I know you. You are that Jane in which I told you every single detail in my life. You are that Jane that carried me to the hospital when I'm burning in forty degree temperature. You are that Jane that are proud and confident of everything you are in life. You are my bestie. You are my person. Jane. Please. Let me know what happened?'

Msaski beamed shyly and tears began to flow. 'Cry for me when I'm done and over with. Sarah Qwek. Will you cry for me? I know you have this inability to cry. Cry for me. Can you do that for me? For our friendship?'

Qwek looked at the shivering Masaki earnestly.

'We broken up. Justin and me.' Started Masaki in tears, 'He was drinking too much and he beats me from time to time. I had to get away. Then they came while you were away in school. Justin and his frat pals. Fucking pigs! They raped me and tortured me.They made me do things. Horrible stuff. They said that I'm into porn and that it was in my blood that I could be subjected to their perversion. It's in my blood? Fucking pigs. Do you what they made me do? Sarah? Do you know what they made me do after they peed and beat the crap out of me?'

'They bleedin' made me fucked a dog. Sarah.'

'Oh my god. Oh fuck.' Replied Qwek in shock.

'They had a gun. They were drunk. They wanted to bring me to a brothel outside the town. Justin wanted me to pay back in interests. He said. He was drunk, the fucking pigs were all drunk. They needed coffee and dinner. We came to this diner. His friend was called Rocket or something. Kept pinching my breasts and he had the gun while Justin was ordering. He was putting the head of the gun into my vagina. They wouldn't let me wear anything inside. Rocket put the gun in me and was giggling like a pig. I managed to snatch the gun from him. And I start shooting. I was... out of my head. Literally. I could see me shooting from the corner. Until I hit the little girl. Oh my god! What have I done? She was dead in a blink. So was Justin and Rocket and the other pig. All dead. Everyone was screaming and looking at me. As if it was in my blood. To fuck up. And so I tied them up and wait for you. I need you so much.'

Qwek held Masaki tightly, 'Oh dear. I didn't know. I'm sorry that I been away! I'm sorry what they did to you! I'm sorry for everything!'

The entrance of the diner's door blew opened and the policemen rushed in with torches and firearms.

Sarah Qwek turned away with the gun in her hand and yelled, 'It's okay! I have the gun! She's...'

A gunshot fired and it exploded through Sarah Qwek's chest and she was thrown to the wall of the booth seat with blood all over the table.

'Fuck! Percy! What the fuck!' Screamed Lieutenant Ron. He made a grab for Jane Masaki.

'She... She had a gun. I thought... I thought... Oh my. Oh my. Oh my...' Said Sergeant Percy as he dropped to his knees with his jaws hanging and bugling eyes.

'What the fuck are you bozos staring at? Help the girl for Christ's sake! Get the medics in! Numbnuts!' Commanded Lieutenant Ron.

'Sarah! Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!' Fought Masaki hysterically as they forced her away in captivity.

And their voices drowned in the complete ruins of the rain.



To Be Continued...

The Soothsayer - Phantasmagoria

It's that gentle odd feeling that bubbled from the hot soup of your infantile fear as your head began to whirl with questions surfacing, when one was lost. But no, the questions didn't pop as they swelled round and full, like those darn bubbles. They wouldn't go away. They were the wraiths that haunted you with that gentle odd feeling in the very first place. To remind your feeble comprehension that you were indeed lost. And maybe, you would feel beneath the subplot of your fear, that you might be lost for good. Sometimes it might not be such a bad idea too, you know? If you are lost forever, then you are not lost at all. You are just searching. Something you might want to tell yourself as the time flew and you were lost.

Everyone got lost every now and then. Some strayed from the course, while others got themselves lost in attempt to learn something valuable. So one might want to know what happen in the first place, when one started to disappear in unfamiliarity and details. That could be important. The horrors that ensue later on would mostly determine by how you lost yourself in the very first place.

Like most things desperate, getting lost tugged feverish on blind faith. Vvael was in a forest filled with blinding lights. The jungle was raised from earth to the starless night with bronze shone crucifixes. Some dozen blue steel of the crosses bore the housing of the crows with yellow eyes and coats so dark that they glistered in nefarious darksome. They peered at Vvael in bored interest, their yellow eyes flickering. On blind faith that you thought you knew how to tell the difference in details. On blind deciphering wisdom. Vvael held onto to the rusty wheel of his wheelchair. Because things changed and shifted in this place. They always did. And that made finding his way challenging to date. At some point of his travel, the metal trees of crucifixes bent around and over to form the grim designs of the human hearts. They whimpered at the mercy of the midnight breeze. You know how they look when things bent and twisted. They always have this hole in the middle. The darkness that ate them empty from the core.

They were lonely. He was lonely. Darkness of the loneliness.

And he was just a boy.

Vvael bit back his attention. Distraction was very dangerous in places that shifted and turned. Higelot understood that too. Heaven was drastically altered. So much that it could be described as wounded. Virtue was the highest code of honor among God's creation. The purest of chasity. And with virtue, one could never be afraid. Higelot, the host championing Virtues felt fear for the first time in his existence. And absolute fear, in case if one had never felt it in his entirety, was both physiological and intrinsically fascinating. Your guts burden, your temples moisten and your scalp stung. A dirty mix of sweetness dipped in coal black cauldron of anticipation and when one really taste it, the hint of the bitter sweetness was euphorically claustrophobic and apocalyptic.

There were sand everywhere. No buildings, sanctuaries and no songs. The Silver City from a distance was supposed to appear like a crystal crown of brilliance. The utopia. Now it was buried in grayish sand and ashes. It filled up to Higelot's ankles. Higelot tried to look to the stars for bearings. But the stars were long gone, along with the songs. Higelot unfurled his wings and pierced his flight. He could not afford to get lost in times like this.

Vvael was ushered in a flash into this exquisite room among many rooms in the great mansion. Vvael rolled himself to the dusty window and peered out of the shades. He saw the view of the town. The ebony forestation of crucifixes. And an empty field of dead petals.

He must have often peered out from here. The corner of his room. All he could do for the days. Watching people across the streets. Watching healthy children playing in the field. Kicking a ball around. Running in summer scent.

For many years in his establishment in the mortal realm, Vvael thought he studied enough and understood how easily distractions could change people's lives. He witnessed eager boys walking into his bar for the very first time in their lives, turned out bitter and scornful drunk twenty years later. He saw old conies reminiscing their previous lives and guessing the what ifs with many bottles of intoxication. Vvael thought he knew all there were to know about the human distractions. Until now. Vvael was in a human mind and learnt that he had underestimated the threshold of distractions that a human mind could bear. Eilert Swane's mind shifted and shifted. He was lonely, frightened, lost, sad and involved in other emotions that crippled him as a person. Outwardly, he just appeared to be a frail rich boy in a wheelchair, but interiorly, he was engulfed by the crippledom of the ability to feel otherwise.

If being lonely was the only the thing that he could only feel. Then he wished he could stop feeling. Anything. Such negativity was not uncalled for. For Young Master Swane had long decide that he could never feel happy, no matter what else. Maybe if he could walk. Maybe not. Maybe it wasn't about his crippledom in the first place.

It was his heart all along.

All along.

While Vvael was a watcher, the observer, Higelot was the hunter. Instead of trying to make sense of the stories and metaphors, Higelot pounced on details and ran on his instinct. Among the sandy rubbles and the void of serenity, Higelot picked up a scent of familiarity. A distinct, yet faint scent of corruption that had not existed in the Silver City for thousands of years until now, when everything falls apart. Higelot hunted the scent.

Vvael rolled onto the empty street. A thunder groaned and some lights among the low hung clouds. The atmopshere was crushing with a depressive hue. The town was in a ruin. Run down shophouses, cottages broken into and decreased garden beds. Brown ships anchored near the bay and the sea was but a puddle of mud in the ground. A divergence of three pathways in the intersection of the town's fountain. The three statues erected in upon the stone of the dried fountain each pointed a different direction. The angel with grey chalky marble wings, the devil with broken horns and the boy without legs. Vvael reached over to touch the boy statue and the head crumbled softly to blowing dust.

It was his heart all along.

It began to rain in Heaven. The Silver City got its fair share of drizzle from time to time, but this rain was nothing like anything ever existed anywhere, even in the world of Man. The rain washed away the sand into cream and flowing cement. The rain washed away the dignified silence of the ruin of the most important places in all existences into a maelstrom of rushing nosies and rumblings of all creatures as if they broke their backs in a wicked trap and had to die crying. Not unlike Hell. The rain was washing away the scent. Higelot sped. He was struggling against the profound nature of this storm. His wings pained in unimaginable places and shapes. He could not afford to lose the scent. The scent so close to the source. The problem and the end. Higelot tumbled to the white and gray wash of the destruction. His wings caked in rain and dirt. He had to get to the scent before it was lost to the rain for when he too would be lost in this myriad of lost paradises and shards of brewing turmoils. Not when the world depended on it. Not when the hearts of all existences depended on it.

It was near the dried fountain, they hit him across the jaw and sent his wheelchair sprawling onto the asphalt. The folks were made of clay. They had no eyes, just unhinged jaws of soil. They giggled like frightened children. One of them gotten over Vvael and started strangling him with sheer force. The fingers dug like knives, cutting into his throat. Vvael fought and tried to tear the clay face of his assailant. All he could hear was giggles. The yellow dirt scratched away by Vvael's nails and revealed the grinning face of The Adversary.

'Samuel?' Vvael asked in chokes and tears.

'Sshh...' Coaxed the Lightbringer dressed in clay, 'Less talking. More dying. Child.' With quick a flash in the Morningstar's eye, 'Remember, little cherub, Remember you picked this route.'

'I'm not sorry! I'm not sorry!' Cried Vvael in short, quick breaths.

'Love. Hush.' Grinned Lucifer, his wings unfurled. 'You knew this day will come. Each of you knew. That I will return with my hands all over the brown nose necks of you cowards. Where is He now? Beg Him for your salvation. Beg Him to make me go away.'

He was angry. He was very angry. At the world, at himself and his meaningless existence.

The Lightbringer squeezed his grip harder, 'What's wrong with me? What's wrong with choices? What's wrong with self-belief that you could get stronger then they, than He believes in you? I am the example of free will. I am the Epoch. I am free.'

'Samuel...' Cloaked Vvael, 'We already had free will. We chose not to fall.'

Lucifer roared, 'Do not attempt to tell me what you thought you already knew. Because you don't! You wouldn't end up in such perilous state if you had.'

Higelot found the root of the scent. The rain crashed on. He found himself square at where His throne was before it was moved to the sanctuary. After Yahwen cast Angel Samuel, captain of heavenly hosts down, there was a hole in which the light wouldn't shine. It led straight down, along the fall, along the grim path in which they fell. The hole continued to burn in eternity and they had to moved His throne. The place in which the greatest confrontation acted on no longer had the blessing of His grace. Higelot found the hole and it continued to burn.

The First of The Fallen went for the kill, but instead he flew and was tore apart. The mud blew in rocky pieces and his grin smeared in the wind. Vvael felt for his burning throat and saw who rescued him, it was Suicides the Zephr. Suicides pulled Vvael hastily to his wheelchair.

'But he is your lord...' Choked Vvael.

'Please, angel. Surely you don't take faith even in such counterfeit.' Hissed Suicides as he butchered the rest of the clay people. 'A divergence in his mind. Maybe more. The influences.'

Vvael pointed to the chalk angel on the fountain, 'Kepharel. I can understand. But the devil?'

Suicides heaved and pushed Vvael's chair away, 'The devil is inside everyone these days.'

It's God. It's God's will that he is the herald. And through him, faith and redemption will reignite and the world will once again earn His trust and land a place in His embrace after death. Eilert traveled far and wide, through the ice and the fire. He will get there. For his life will be meaningless without His message. And one more person he reached, another one repented. Eilert would scale treacherous mountains and swim across seas to the end of the world if this was what He wanted. With the legs given by the Him, he would go to the end of the universe if he had to, for in Him, he renewed his faith in things that were thought to ease inside him, and Eilert Swane was happy for change. A purposeful life was a lived one. Regardless of the endless despises and the beatings he received, Eilert received them earnestly like food to the soul. Each spit made him stronger, each punch made him wanted to preach more. He was happy.

They found him. They found Eilert Swane wrapped in a warm cocoon in the ground of sulphur and diamonds. In an underground coffin under the scalp, Kepharel kept Eilert's conscious alive. The rouge angel couldn't get rid of the mere mortal, for Kepharel was no more than a whisper in his ears than his own will over his body. And crippled Cherubim and the Zephr was right. Eilert Swane, The Fire Monster, The Fire Spirit, The Soul Eater was something more than a puppet manipulated by a simple plot of overthrowing Hell. The properties and the purpose was underestimated by both the forces of the dark and the light.

From the moment of their entry to the Inferno, Eilert could no longer will his body. He was caged in his own mind, witnessing the war. But Eilert anticipated that. Though he loathed the rouge angel from robbing him of his destiny, Eilert surrendered. Because he knew and saw the greater plan. He was no longer just the herald to his people. He was more.

The end is drawing near.

The ground shook and bellowed. Something was happening to the Fire Monster and they had to be quick. Suicides dug Eilert Swane's bended composure up and sat him onto Vvael's lap on the wheelchair. Suicides pushed them in a hurry. The skies ripped apart, sucking all lights and sounds into the darkness.

Vvael asked Eilert, 'Are you alright? We need you to get a grip over your powers and stop this madness.'

In gasping breaths, Eilert smiled, 'It's too late. The end is nigh.'

Oh, he know he is right.



To Be Continued...