Mongol - Corpses of the Divine IX: Mongol, #9

By Nicu Stefan Cristian

Dead and scum-blots, everywhere; after that he resumed walking, until he finally got to the point of him being but that hallow spot in the sky with the exception that he filled the sky for a few hours.

A few people, such as Matthew saw him all the way, and it was hardly noticed and spoken off, because the spawn reminded him of the son.
He was a boy who had suffered brain damage from being drowned for two minutes.
He constantly thought of tarantulas who wanted to get him and of being another person.

Also, Zlazlovz started being even more paranoid, thinking the spawn had watched the TV, and learned about washing laundry, something he had never bothered himself to learn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicu Stefan Cristian
• Release date: Jun 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227745699

Book preview

Torn apart while ruminating by the fire.

They droned out in a rove, all the flies being driven out of their home as their outsides melted.

And those who walked back to Olive seemed obtuse, almost in the same way a man without skin would walk towards him.

Thought chest was torn, though most of them broke down as they approached, they fed, with deepstricken flaws.

‘Couldn’t spare them, could you, of the noise?

Your clacks keep popping every fiber of your mouth, you wreathe in pain and shout about the place, your gums decay, don’t they?

I see the yellow thing in them but they already encompassed your mouth.

Truly told, you are one to be looked down upon, be gone from evil sight and don’t look back.

I wish I could devour your mind but I cannot search for what’s inside of you.

’ He rose and approached.

His head was eighteen times that of his compounded fractioned eyes, bloated as they were, protruding out of his neck pestilence that the disease he carried forth, he wondered.

Yonder did he walk, unable to miss his stunt and cathor. ‘I want to eat, I want to eat, where’s the mouth?

I need it.

My spawns, they rose, please, I need to bacterium-frozen inside.

Please, allow me to obey my spawns and fill them with the pus and scum of my insides once I will have eaten them.

The Vile-men, that’s what they did to me. I suffer because of them.

I cannot feel, I am betrayed, I am filthy, my body is made out of grains meat out of larvae-shrubs.

Please allow me to feed them before they turn on me. ’ Just like the dead dog.

He was supreme, he was their master, he was somewhere out there, part of the pantheon like a mad-filthy expression of drool.

The pool in which they fell was dreadful, as one could tell, there was no need for scum, about eighteen hours later, he died, abandoned in a tar- like bed where he was eaten by the round.

They danced around him, unable to feel and differentiate between disease, it was long-due, it was long-due.

It was appraised, he could not fathom straying his hand, and focusing for too long, it was all too pitiful, the dreading and the ever-pleasant distrust that followed the gore-through.

‘Past this line, no man might become a balloon.

The flies need to dictate the errands before you might be allowed to feed your spawns.

Make sure that their needs are fulfilled first.

’ Towel of black, brought on by an encephalic-abrogate dressed in red. She was a Vile-encephalic-abrogate who used to beat her men.

Though spawn-abuse was evenly split and allowed as well as forced upon everyone else.

Leeway to one of the cancer-blocks. ‘They need to eat.

’ And they rushed towards the Vile-encephalic-abrogate and ripped out her bottom jaw, sharing between one another as they ate and ate until nothing was left of her, now.

They ate some more, not to be a bore, they wanted to cut a piece for their spawns, more Fly-mothers came forth and started tearing her face and lower body apart in order to share and share some more.

‘Vanity shall be inexcusable from this point on then.

One must break all the mirrors in the room in order to make place for everything else to come in.

And in with good air, out with.

’ The phone rang, but at the same time a door opened.

Twenty blister-filled yellow-dogs came in, neither feature visible out of their shape.

They started barking and as they had, many started popping as they painted the walls in red and yellow.

Distraught the man got up. ‘Who let them in?

Show yourself scoundrel.

’ ‘It was I, the man with no legs.

’ He was long and appeared to have no spine, but leaped around as he was only a head and a trunk, jumping on a long pike.

Bleeding out of his guts, saying. ‘We had an appointment, no?

’ ‘No, leave.

’ ‘It’s already too late, invite me and my dogs in your private chambers and we’ll talk.

’ ‘I’m going to Agrippae your stick if you don’t leave.

’ ‘Then I will stay with all my dogs and never go away, never and I shall flay you with my other teeth.

’ And as if on command he started spitting them out, as he couldn’t help himself but say and do the most terrible things.

From the side of the room, where they lay, there was no more space to move in as the stood and lopped away.

‘There, I think there’s a green sun that’s become gray. ’ ‘You must die then.

’ ‘For what reason?

’ ‘You’re not bright enough to see that the sun died a millennium ago.

’ ‘But I can see it now, in my head, my dreams cannot drag me through it any longer, I need to eat before I lose my hands.

’ And he was armed with two cracked backs, from which the leper which was his main-dog started dropping those yellow pouches around the walls.

One of the pouches had almost completely assimilated his head, leaving the skull as it protruded out while making the most disturbing looking noises, as they were shattered past his back.

He was almost done sniffing around, the gas was set. They were drowned already by the nosebleeds.

‘I think this session should start then. What is your name?

’ ‘Gulag-cattle.

’ ‘Fitting, now tell me what happened exactly. ’ Ten years ago.

On wrongly-doubted plains where he could not fathom living past his yearning years, there was this, the madness which was work.

For a man like him, as scum had told could not fathom working of trying to be.

Like any other of great desire, yet to see a light from which the tunnel started spreading scum.

He felt forlorn as he walked around.

Roses were made of tar, there were other people around which had been born in trench-breeding machines which had been dug their long-deformed, nomadic masters.

For they appeared during one morbid night and they could not fathom staying about for too long and doing something that couldn’t be helped, as the killing of chicks, of spawnnapping of spawns so they might eat their ears, plunge some wire-tracks inside their brains as they would bleed them in the air.

From the various clouds of red that came from inside of them, finally they started pushing in.

Advancing on a front where there were many fighting spiritless men, of whose lives yielded just as much as they could tell of it.

‘Dread and desperation, they’re damned or would be damned if they’re to serve him who is in doubt their masters, of worse flies, I see they rise.

’ ‘But you cannot fathom trying your hands on it, not as much, I see the evil that’s creeping into the starch and stakes of larvae, they made to be.

’ They were different from the others, as they were vile men, unlike the flies they only did what they could in order to repair the evil done by their kin.

There was a reason to sit there in part.

No one could lay in doubt and reveal as much.

So much so, there was evil when it snowed and they were only melting it by slitting one spare.

One man came forth, got off his horse, looked upon the slaved-labor.

Upon noticing how the other vilemen got domesticated, he considered teaching them a lesson.

In grace and in manner, the spanner of evilcuts, the hanging and the preserving brought to their knees.

But he of all would see as well.

‘There, see of plain and watch me go at it again, approaching near-evil as I see.

I shall swear no fealty and do no harm to thee but look at what I’ve become.

’ And from his wrist there was a pouch filled with false-Agrippa, and beneath it where was a pouch of bone as well.

His fingers pushed and made their way, pulling out a false yet sharp bone-hook which drew away some of the Agrippa.

Afterwards he splashed the snow and made the lass dance around him.

‘I see that the Vile-encephalic-abrogates have already learned their place.

Good, great, magnificent, I shall to with them and have my way. I need to breed with as many of them along the way.

Otherwise, I see no reason to keep any of you living.

’ And he considered as much, trying to push in after a while.

It was tiresome, trying to think, and winking of evil sound, for destiny called as it had seen him rise through the vales and through the snow as he would spread his Agrippa, which was nothing more than poisoned water.

Yet the Vile-people could only see the blue as red, as they were bashed around their irises ever since they had been born, dead or still-born in disease.

There would be no peace as they were getting even more desperate to piece the world together.

It was all too wrong, no one was strong enough to make it and many had starved off to dying.

Such was the disease that drove many in their early graves and in some way it was all inexcusable, in others, it was well worn.

Farther through the Southward region, there was a veil that could barely be observed as well, and might as well be forgotten for more than a few obvious reasons.

It was made out of the giant sky-formations, coconut-head tops on top of two molded-together hives.

And there was evil going in them for they were dark and gray for the Flies that lived in such structures, as they had been on their way to their dark paradise could do nothing but face one another as everything melted.

‘Shall we speak of such command then? ’ ‘I can only hear evil going on.

’ ‘Then watched the flies set off in the distance, knowing you will have failed to reach them in time.

’ ‘And what is the meaning of that?

’ ‘I can see no point in talking to you no further, you’re but an imbecile.

’ ‘And you’re a man who refused to answer the call. ’ ‘To what exactly?

’ ‘To see them change, they’re not flies but something inbred, made out of the bodies of horses, in which they tiny ancestors mated in.

And through time they started hiding in their suits, I tell you, only because of being ashamed of what they are and what they look like.

’ ‘Your mouth if foul and I can still see no point further in talking to you.

Dreadful thing that you are, I shall never figure you out, never, as eternity has become but a single farce to you.

’ ‘You’re not listening.

’ And neither could he do it any longer.

There was no way to prove it, but those Fly-creatures did abandon their suits in their giant private chambers and took on the appeal of the various animals with which they had hybridized themselves upon being forced to do so.

There was still that eternal-Borykul Yagganar in their eyes which defiled just about everything, to the worst possible admirers, could do.

Fear had been a bastion for them to soothe one another as the sweat and heat inside the suits had given them their petty appearance, of suits- well worn.

Hairs which were put on top of them and pieces of variously worn out and put through fallen shells; dread was an anchor pulling the down.

As the hive was not a hive inside but a twist, a repulsive thing which looked more like the body of a man missing his organs.

Although they lived on floors, their chambers were cones, warped pyramid- like cylinders, with rounded tops, organic and bearing their wings, which they themselves had fashioned and faked as well as they falsified their pasts.

And many of their small-hut-like rooms were too tainted to be spoken of as they wore the speaking mouths, the lacerated inbred of their worst species, which had been melted and mixed with the very flysuits only so they could justify hiding.

And live through lies.

Be blasted by evil in disgust and plain of nights, that took away whichever light there lay inside their dens.

Man of flies, upon a crown, set as he was a false one, trying his fingers cut, and brought to knees around.

He wagered.

I shall open the cyst and plant my spawns, as they lay in stranger holes, I see.

There were peculiar things always glowing and pushing out, throttling every side of the walls, always on to abide.

There would be another one coming.

Of which blunt-hardness worn, it wore upon one another, as they suddenly started growing on their own.

Some of them had come to breathe, as they could see and breathe without it.

Tiny puckers but followed and would only cut and see another, such as the very likes.

Growing on the walls, and shoving aside. ‘Here, take it, take it so.

’ He threw but a single fat giant block of fly, a potato-shaped thing as giant as eight hands put together, set upon the cry of laughter that was disease, inclined.

There were others that were not spoke off before.

Mostly since they appeared to have become contrived and foul, full on their benign nature as they had bore their wings in strains and wildly pushed away.

For they were many and yet inclined, some fused with the mouths they ate, only to be shoved aside and sprout them on the sides.

Always pushing out of the way, while always trying to themselves, not to sway and eat what they could.

Around them, of a while, stood, but large protrusions made to last, pushed away as soon as they would be allowed to grow at last.

Some were torn, off to shore, as long lost ships would to be allowed, torn apart on sand-ravines, they contrived of smaller beings attached.

On every side and in the back, brought upon the world, every piece of every land, made in the wreathing image, the texture and the hairs, all dark and taken away.

For the likes of the Vile-men could not even deal with it yonder. Stronger and felt, they fought to no end.

Territories were being shared or taken by force when none or little more remained of them.

There, in a call, a few flying torsions came, at last.

They bore the strange appearance of bobbling fat-buttons which had yet to be inclined, below them boils kept many of their spawns alone and alive.

Set to strive, some would burst, only for the boils to grow back from whence they came, upturned.

There was but a single chance to miss it in front of their eyes.

Since they only appeared here and there, malignantly reclined to the disappearing specks and the flakes of wings that settled inside, there would be no way ahead to what they honed.

Peculiar houses and weird fragments in which they hid their young-to be culled and slain for dissatisfaction.

Since their monuments would fall, some of them already in doubt for what was to be called.

Plain in thought and lesser beings, all too evenly put through and never seen.

A man with a headless watch had come, he was vile and would be inclined to talk at last.

‘I demand this pouch of land to be given to me by the orders of the Great Contrive.

What say you of my claims?

’ He was different, yet belligerent, missing his lower jaw, already absorbed and left so in the most peculiar manner.

For his own sake, he pounced behind. There, right there.

‘I’m Tumor-Bolt and I will have brought you to justice by the end of this day.

’ He shone with worms.

Walked hardly on puddles of skin, his pouches were made out of bear-thin flies.

He’s killed his way through and by appearance he was but soaked in their young.

Green-yellowish skin with puckers on it and eyes, followed by a sign on his forehead that appeared to go around the spot.

Brought to knee, the host of many a fly, which waited in the back hardly turned to see.

My secret, he couldn’t be known of it.

He’s destroyed their suits, he cannot know.

He cannot have found out that we’re but for show.

And yet, the creature of malignant nature, which contrived, of this suit and better to abide, held, beneath his belly but many a mouth.

Since they had eaten, stolen and took what was theirs, they drove themselves to become alike.

Yet they were still lower, they had to be.

Filthy and mixed, but piss through the signs of agony.

The Vile-men were still but short and in comparison to it, whom ape-like form the vileness bore, they Fly-suited creatures were of grant sizes, such as four bulls stacked together at the very least.

There was little fealty to such a thing as well as pus.

Thence the challenge at a duel.

‘For his land I would rather face you as such.

My arms may be wider, but it should be a fair match.

’ At least from what he could tell, he accepted it, without being to swell in place, or look around, it was all too dreadful, after a mind.

All too quiet, of a piece, thence they pushed on and found some peace.

As one eye looks in one direction, followed through by the other whose face is but a marked thing, there’s little left in common with a wonderer whose face is but a track upon which the filthy little men devour little things when they are hungry.

He knew when to laugh at the most inopportune times and this was one of them.

It was all too sad and hadn’t made any sense at all, why was he doing it? Why was he laughing?

Does he not know you’re not supposed to laugh now? Does anyone care?

No one seems to care about that.

Ah but what a vile thing, tiredness is.

I see, but I can look, to be called so, and stare, of little more than I should say and satiate my wonder, I am but a stronger man than I’ve been yonder.

I’ve become the first of the flies, the one who had set alike and all would to be benign if I will it so.

I hold no secret nor may I talk, I am but a fly and fly alike.

Dominators of which awe is green They shone within their scepters, on whim bur birthing some inside the air.

They shot each other off, uncannily, disgraced by whatever pucker was ensnared.

Their land was red and bloated, always pumping, contorted and completely submerged, bubbles red and men without disgrace enslaved.

They were flying inside of bull-shaped monstrosities of which horns were overwrought and filled with twenty men each, molded as if swords were their hands, which, at the end of their swords came peculiarly shaped stings that gave them the appearance of born-out segmented claws, attached to one another, worked upon they would be.

Each claw fashioned to be one top, another one placed, dancing.

And these creatures were but the buildings themselves, as from the gut of the bull-shape came but a drop of a hive-like digested building, like those of man, cathedrals and rounded caverns pushed around each other’s hands.

Arms wrapped around them, ending, inside of them.

Contorted beings raking, on top of plains made of men, on plain flat floors which were pushed around and would be put around as much pressure as it could be helped.

‘Will you stop that already, can’t you see that this is not their destiny, to be tortured for hours?

’ ‘Where do we go and who we are?

’ ‘This is not the time to ask this, nor should you be allowed to, damn you.

’ Man with a strange eye-hole shaped around the mouth, no lips, see- through teeth that were connected chompers, eating through long tubes that were pulled out of a large trail of long-leg shapes that came out of his gut, slowly being taken out.

They receded momentarily but revealed, in their pole-structure many thin legs which dragged behind.

‘You were right, we weren’t prepared.

We found an encephalic-abrogate dead inside a spawn, crested, around, with a strange hold.

Agrippa upon the ceiling, and strange pyramidical weeps.

Though there were nothing but the cruel heaps in which they stood. They lied everywhere, scents of pheromones in their eyes.

And what they brought one, was one in a million fattened, peculiar fat- dead people that were set in sight.

No matter what happened, there were peculiar stranglers that were but preserving people in mass.

They were dethroned, kings that were plain strapped and hold over, dragged on chains as they were put behind.

Barely landed, the entire building was being evacuated before the line was set.

Every fence being swollen, there was dread in sight.

And they bore some peculiar miasma, and put through.

Holes inside their guts, holes insides their eyes, eaten; old ladies in dead-sparks, they were put inside peculiar small boxes so they could be more easily carried.

Some people shoved little pins inside of them. Saw-through as well.

They wore their faces, and some perverts ate their OB’s; as peculiar as it were, they were drowning one another with their Agrippa and laughing.

‘I am the great nose, they put me inside my hands, they want to use me as an Agrippa-cradle and be put on a table.

Listen, listen, listen, they will keep me there three days. And Agrippas shall step on me constantly, I know it.

It was prophesized, in two years they were put together and would come to show signs of the end.

Draughts will be put and I shall buy myself by bits. ’ ‘Why is that?

’ ‘Because they shall sell me and they shall sell my feet.

And my organs shall be trafficked, and they will sell me to talking branches.

I am speaking to my bones and they are infested. They’re infected, by alcohol embed incisors.

They shall bite me over and over again.

Agrippa pouring out of their hands, they will speak of it again. Should I not listen to their words of protection?

Shall I abandon my faith, my instinct dying when the drops of Agrippa. And there being wasted, there was no chance.

Wearing themselves out, they will, and when the time comes I shall escape.

’ And he had done so, for this event repeated itself eighteen times, always, him buying back, and they pulling his organs out.

They were followed by diseased people whom were without finger.

Shocked he spoke with them; eight contaminated brothers that were put under stress.

For a few years they had been tortured, obligatory punches and hurt.

And the light had only devoured spawns, for the sun was in need to feed. And the sun spoke of evil and of tiresome things.

Were to be put in cages and in little doors; constantly tested in pain. Every man who had been alive had been hit again and made to say in spots. For hours then washed, and made to listen as they were killed around.

Luckily for him he bathed in bleach and hen-Agrippa and that of a snake. ‘I am an animal because I love myself.

’ He prayed to eight blob gods.

Ugly warm, worm, and all living in a cottage that was surrounded by dirtroofs that were put together as to form a fence; and from the distance, the face looked like cars and faces, peculiar vehicles that were made out of skin, speaking within the hours.

They were all punching spawns for hours, it was everything they were left with, out of the building and through the cold.

They were stolen, their clothes torn apart and burnt to side.

‘My nose needs to be attached to onions and to red-breathing arches, their deaths needs to follow after.

I could die just because I am revealing all of their secrets. IT doesn’t exist, my mind doesn’t exist.

I need to eat, I need to kill and take care of myself and kill everything as I weep to the globes.

Eventually their cottages will be burnt.

My temperature is burning, they were not to be called.

’ And they listened to him prophesize of what was going on. What to eat today?

I could eat him.

‘I will eat a cattle of cheese and cast upon the bare breast caste.

I will kill fish and shove myself inside of them. Preserve the spawns, preserve the men, kill everyone.

You need to do it before they take me, before I’m claimed. ’ Some men were immediately nerved, put to worn.

Their shared-mothers were flat in the head and were made out of flour, salt and burnt alike, and were put, devoured, in their guts.

Skinned alive, flayed after the sun. And worn out and killed.

And they were fashioned out of their rings, never tried.

There lay but a peculiar large match-box shaped large trunk which bore, eight hoses for every legs and the second body put through and leprous put to stress.

A large throat the size of a galleon, the eyes on his chest long, snail- alike and put through what appeared to be an elevator shaped filed with skulls.

In that empty space, sweat running down, the mockery of the men which were reflected on that death-box.

Squirmed from inside of it they came below, and set in flight they revealed but many rows of flung-about snow-like drops formations formed of mountains, skin-like and sacked.

They were put to draught and worn out.

Then wasted every second, the pain was brought, immediately upon the use.

Rotten-head came from one of the flying-dead building peculiar torn-aside and put through, vein-blobs were flying through his little seat-weapon, a lock around it wrapped, he had completely ripped out a bycicle seat and shoved it on a stick, then welded.

A disease-puncher, at his feet.

It was hardened around the chains and where came the peculiar stretch of needle-holes, there was but a single paunch Synch could look upon ‘You’ve taken my face, you’ve defiled me, I’m butchered, can’t you see?

’ It was plain to see that the council had not, for the likes of them care at all.

They only drew on the device and noticed, but a strange peculiar board, and worsened, by the looks of which, they’ve taken everything.

It was enough, for a disease to endure.

It couldn’t be called otherwise, for what was worth.

They called upon much dreadful steeds which carried upon their ranks and brought within a lack, remorseful.

‘But you are truly mistaken, are you not? ’ ‘I believe I’m not.

’ ‘And why is that?

’ ‘Because my head is a barrel and yours is not. ’ ‘Prove it.

’ He split open his helmet and had it revealed. ‘But you are mad, are you not?

’ ‘Of course I am and for that I must thank you first and foremost since you are but the cause for it.

If it were not for you, then I would’ve most certainly had myself caught at a loss of Agrippa.

’ ‘Yet I need to see your barrel and I need to understand, what is it inside your head that pulls me towards you at such a speed.

’ He was drawn towards him by such a power as the likes of which might’ve made him think he was but a man or iron drawn towards a magnet.

Drawn without the slightest hint, without remorse, but to settle in with what he learned so far.

He’s taken the chance, now and now.

He had but split his lip then after, his eyes were Agrippaned, peculiar creature worn and put aside.

His lower body was but a peculiar drinking draught he could got wreathe away from, saddened by it, that he would shout.

Mouthlessly he foamed with a surprise, his demise was in peril, and he walked upon saddened eyes.

And they had cast one another from the mad paradise they had been standing in for hours at day.

Incompetently unable to make it through before realizing what the issue was in the first place.

Battered through, they suddenly withdrew, and would see each other taken by surprised, heading the solidarity provided by the men who stood and waited in their little odd boxes.

Which were everywhere, transparent boxes where they stood in, breathing, threateningly breathing.

Bad air meant bad men. They were looking back.

They were frowning disturbingly as they hissed at every passer in a most capricious manner worthy of no less contempt.

They were put down, some of them shot up completely, eternally as they received a bullet and twice, another shot, then eight more.

They ate led.

It was sweet-erect, they died quickly, then they got up again, but no one questioned it.

Every time they opened their mouths, a light, they were the city’s lamps, which explained why they were just standing in just about every possible spot.

Eating rice made out of mice, all decayed, no man repaired.

Beatings around the block and barrel-headed men but spitting Agrippa; they puked it in and put it in a small gondola.

And they simply put the paddles through the asphalt as if they were but shallow, hands were pushing, yet tomorrow.

They would leave and lean against the wall. ‘It spokes, it spokes to us.

I see that it is come to our attention that our god is it but called for us to worship.

He is but to appear and deliver us to the land that is said to have been given to us by dark day where we shall lay with the other apes in the plays of stars and simians.

Where they shall be attained to be inside each cellophane-block of which body is his.

’ ‘But Eihm Riis is but a man, his claim comes only after man and man is made to listen to no man but to man.

’ And they dealt the blows of which they swore to become, the most uncanny gore in which they will shoot all the bullets, all of them were unleashed.

And they blew everything and made the gore-creatures appeared whom bore no Agrippa, nowhere near but wore the appearances of hound-heads upon humanoidshaped beds whose chests are rectangle holding mattresses.

Their insides were coffins and they opened.

Despite most of them being enclosed, from one of them he appeared.

It was none other than Eihm Riss, of whose touches were plain in wood which were trees-old devices that were partners which giant clean cut hands that had belong to giants that had written wires upon black talon- shaped tablets over a few hundred times.

And they sang in flower for Riis, and would but piece back together what had been amiss, for him, oh mighty lord, you’ve come upon us with a mighty sword which was but a rod made out of Isle.

That is what they called the very toothy smile which was carved upon the great danger, comer of evil from past.

Out of his great talon nails, upon which the great Peoples of his kind lived, they died, only to have given soul, their entrails but dragged along to have become it.

‘Great rod you carry, so it seems, but what of its power? ’ They seemed to spit powder.

And they were of no mark and listened to nothing but the wind and how at last, evil bird you are torn apart, to have become a thin spawn from the rod which was but carved.

The nail-chitin could still be seen.

It was smoldering with births and many animals that came in were but mixtures of put together, stitched men, of which souls but crawled.

There are harsh terrible winds that beat the carpets hung in water.

They are indeed soaked with Agrippa that’s been taken after they decided encephalic-abrogates would be allowed to speak.

In the turn of the dark century, as opposed to the ancient animal-wrought people, their sutures would be removed.

Many fed crime-meals, in which stood little knives and bullets as well as stolen pockets.

They listened and they listened.

‘No one obeys in my court, thought I am the one who had prophesized what might happen after.

I’ve checked the power and we’ve passed the limit that’s allowable for people to survive through.

We need additional cords attached to men that they might finally come to understand why are there sandpeople in the sky and why is it gray?

I am the man that shall call upon this world to stop. And you shall worship me instead of Riis.

’ ‘Yet you’re not a god, alas.

We’re but doomed to live without hope.

’ Their buildings were fat forts, that wore men-bellies like those of beer, wrought with little lines of cross black iron threads everywhere around.

They were washing dishes, in their homes, the men. They were men, after all.

And they were punished for it.

As the dished wore spike-shaped knife-hooks shapes that wore little cacti-pinchers everywhere around; the cleaning solution being a sodium that only affected them as well.

For every dish washed a man’s head would be fell and thrown into a concubine-washing machine where he would suffer after.

Even if it were for a man to cook, he would have to cut himself and grill his own skin through.

A door was making a lot of noise.

It opened, then it closed mid-way, then a man passed through the slip, me slapped the frame, rubbed his chin, eyed the place around, walked backwardly, leaped like a frog, ate from another passing man’s throat, then he died soon after, abandoned to be split open.

His chest heaved them straight open, only to reveal that he hit a piercing gate.

A gentleman suited man that looked like him with a door drawn across his suit as well, as two eyes that were dark cysts, came out and walked away.

Soon enough, he was followed by a line of those people whom, soon enough moved into the abandoned building from which everyone else appeared to have gone out of.

They disliked what was going on there, and out of their canes they revealed long rapiers with which they started fencing as if to prove

themselves in fight as they only dreaded forth, to come along to the greatest of the apartments that waited for them.

It was something very much incontestable, trying to survive for longer hours than they needed since there was, without a doubt no chance for them to make it along.

Indeed, there wasn’t, as they were slowly but flayed by some hidden scents that appeared out of grate-like holes placed all around their homes.

‘Will you do me the pleasure of making it in time for me to realize what’s going on?

I’ve come upon a discovery unlike any other, I think one of my worn-out pillows has been completely encompassed in an utmost peculiar sweat that does not belong to any being I’ve had the misery of having acquainted myself with.

’ ‘I can’t.

’ ‘Why not?

’ ‘I’m a positive, I’ve been found out for negatives. ’ ‘How deep are they?

’ ‘Skin-deep, deep-deep, I’m dead in twenty hours.

’ Same thing as before, same thing, there was no other thing than that, they were talking themselves out of it, already gone.

Already dead-men talking to dead-birds; the land was theirs, and they saw no reason to push on.

It was weird, they were still alive for now at least.

A few more branches were brandished to a man’s eve as he passed through the bush-surroundings when the time of the great fire approached.

Before long, every man in sight will be a box with another box on top of him, trapped in a box, where the grates are many arms and hands.

His head being the giant box, with his face being bloated around each of its angles.

‘That is the man’s legacy, son.

Look at him, do you find him beautiful?

’ Not the boy said, and he was somewhat repelled by his father who acted mightily awkward and peculiar.

This was an adult who acted like a spawn.

He had to be put down, for society was evil and allowed for creatures like him to exist.

He didn’t act like a man, therefore he was a cretin.

And cretins are basically disabled people, in the sense of, they have to be put down and hyperclotally cleansed with acid-liquids they should bathe in as their skin liquefies and they become pools plastered on the wall.

‘The king is in the building. ’ ‘Who?

’ ‘Don’t know?

He is the Martyr, he died. Yet he walked.

’ ‘What did he die for in that case?

’ ‘Absolutely nothing; it’s the reason he’s still walking. ’ There rose the False-Martyr, deformer of reality.

Of which crown looked like a peculiar spinning, twirleye upon a brow which extended into an inwardly pointing took, connected by tendons and veins coming out of his peculiarly berry-colored bluish purple body.

His eyes being reddened, then Agrippaned with every step.

Black twirls inside of them, then green coming out various volcano-mounds that were formed across his back and his chest.

He was wide-open, and one could see his exposed, barely covered by a thin-sheet of skin muscle and his ribs, the bones.

This seemingly starved figure was at least eight feet tall, and built like a tank despite what appeared to be a most peculiarly hunched figure.

And by the time he entered the premise, he had but thrown his evil eyes upon all of them.

In their disgrace they but bowed and listened to him, as they feared; he didn’t bear an armor but had some shrapnel pieces of dark-chitin spread across his body.

Some had entered him way too deep.

He looked like a hallow thing, empty on the inside, then lost to a heap on the slight as he breathe upon them, a might peculiar set of purple- thin arms that came out of his mouth.

Tens of them but crawling, all but wrought with the most peculiar gasping talons that emerged from their split-open tips inside the tips of its fingers.

He was a vile thing, robed below the chest with tattered clothes, a set of peculiar graves that were hidden beneath and various glyphs that didn’t mean anything, but they were written in Cyrillic.

It looked like it was written in rust, his robe being metallic.

And he bore no clotelry, but wore a lot of callouses around his hands. The False-Martyr was strong, immovable, he wilt it so.

He did as he pleased, he walked as if it were a show, breaking everything that came underneath him as if to grab, the first man who came along and kept talking, he’d grab him by the face, then squash it immediately like an imploding pumpkin that burst between his fingers, like a little melon being pressured to implosion.

It splattered everywhere.

His Agrippaebrains but mixing with the bone-shrapnel that didn’t even penetrate his skin; it was too thick for him to be capable of harming himself or to be harmed by others.

He was strong and more importantly, he felt like had to prove it.

Many people began gathering around, following him as if they were interested in what was going on.

Trying to mask their fear as he started grabbing a ladder, breaking it apart with a finger; while with another finger he flipper a chair around the room.

People applauded him.

He smiled, revealing many teeth that were yellow, some that looked wooden and others that had holes in it caused by the beatings of a Mocking bird.

He ate, most probably he ate it.

He spat her then and there just to prove a point.

It felt as if his presence would destroy everything. Around him.

There was an encephalic-abrogate, and then, there wasn’t. There was no stop him, no one could stop him.

He was a destroyer who fashioned a throne out of nothing.

Upon which he stood.

He invoked a creature, a great Artisan-Sage, to which he listened. ‘Omollusk, I call on you.

’ And the creature appeared out of nowhere as if it were called, without shame and without dignity, appearing but it part, as a representation of the entire growth it bore that looked as if it were drawn by a tri- dimensional brush that was large, rounded, and looked like a bush, giving it form by unevenly jerking the brush as his peculiar creature unfolded from the bottom of the floor to the top of the ceiling, inflating itself as it was made.

A contortion, that upon being dragged from one corner to the other, one could see it spread on both sides, unwrapping itself like a most peculiar parchment, from which there pulled back many armed violent ribs that hardened with every second that passed, forming little formations of gas, sacks it carried inside of it appeared everywhere it came around.

To the front of which, two legs, two handed talons and a great bulk with one great eye could be seen before its split mouth emerged.

It looking like a pair of sutured things that were then burnt inside its skin.

Before it could be fully grasped upon, Omollusk gave birth through its chest, upon a runt-like opening to a great rod, with a shrunken peculiar head-replica, like that be bore forth, that spoke instead of him.

His legs bore great talons, twisted in the back and bloated.

Pushing inwardly, where these caterpillarmoving toes appeared to become more and more mobile as it went along; by the time of which, this dark figure revealed a most peculiar greenish-orange skin with little geometrical connotations written upon its unwrapped body.

Everything leading to weird constellations that bore mouths; regardless of which, before long, he had finally materialized himself inside the room, being no longer a projection.

His grand eye reflecting the image of the False-Martyr upon which he shone the scepter.

Three skinbubbles sprouted off the wall which seemed to be much wider and much taller than the other ones.

The simply left the weaker ones hanging.

Three more, greater bubbles emerged after, leaving them to hang, followed by two more after, until it had achiever flight, leaving all of them in that flaccid state they were in.

Floating in the air, like sea-mines.

The entire room was submerged into a chaotic flaccid-air. ‘What have you called me for?

’ ‘There’s been a murder and I need this place searched. ’ ‘In what way?

’ ‘You need to remove it from existence momentarily, just so I may look into the very treads of skin that are left after, so I may stumble upon the culprit.

’ ‘Then is shall be done.

’ With which he simply shook his scepter, then all disappeared.

It was harrowing search that took a long-while, to which he would not be completely contended with.

They were trading heads.

It was a headache caused by spray-guts, they began stopping. They stopped, and they began again.

A case was made, a peculiar investigation, five years ago when they were making a big bloated thing, a creature that was raised from beneath the ground, left to grow.

First man who died inside the creature was one of the chief scientists that was put down by mere force, as he entered it.

A peculiar ellipse flying formation followed the first people that entered the ground holes.

Peculiar as they were, a stranger to the bloated needle racks inside of him said.

‘I’m going to shove missile-shaped people inside the racks that they might enter and fly around and grab some of the laughing mouths put that were wrought in ten little desecrator huts where they breed.

They will become filth and will bear more spawns than necessary. ’ And they were done, too soon, too quick and put through.

Worn-out headless, spared, they were bloated like giant wasp-bees if they bore their lower abdomens as big and wide as larvae.

They were talking, in squares.

And the square were circles, the salt was put on top of them.

They put pepper, they were swine. What did they do?

They shoved faces on top of their faces as they melted their tacks and clacks, as they shoved inside their eyes, little pins, the military had to stop them.

For the thing it would grow, it would grow until it could reach the people.

The people who were on top of the reverse-put shoved in the clouds people that were put inside, like Terracotta armies.

Puking the most peculiar head-drones put inside, and would eat their sects behind.

‘I will eat your guts, little Flat man, you are gloated, you’re a goat- person.

’ ‘No, I am sand, I am a sand-pile, I have skin inside my eyes. ’ ‘But can you walk?

‘ ‘I can crawl. ’ ‘Are you sick?

’ ‘Of conversing with you perhaps? ’ ‘What of your heads?

’ There were eighty of them.

And he broke his back and his hand, immediately, they were worsened by chicken, and by sausage-egg shells that were put inside.

A hen was king.

The real one was between one of the.

This man, this pitiful man, this fucking man, he, how dare he? He put twenty dead chicken between four real ones.

‘Who is she?

’ ‘I am the cock-cookeree.

’ And they could be said, and they could be put, two percent put out of the room, put under quarantine, put inside the most uncanny, dreadful little spawns, while large heads spread around the rooms, and put under stress.

‘We should throw everything away. ’ ‘No.

’ ‘We should throw everything away. ’ ‘Well if you’re the one saying it. ’ ‘Should we listen to him?

’ ‘They both look the same. ’ Their heads were monitors.

One of the was a VCR, they were telephonic devices, but only in gut. They were smart, but not smart-smart.

They had to throw out the clothes.

They had their libraries inside their libraries, inside the only man. He was dead.

‘You are dead, because you’re a scientist. ’ ‘I know.

’ They found a great place to put all the toys in, it was a kindergarden filled with dead spawns, they would rot in a black sack just like the black sack filled with their cadaverous remains, which were spat upon, with the rest of the most, if not, worst of pains.

Had to pay the light, the code, the code was written on every floor step and on every wall, they asked to pay, pay with Agrippa.

Pay the light with Agrippa after Easter.

Spoken with the pharmacist-killer, he had a large knee-knife, pulling a curtain inside his hand.

They spared the curtain with the embroidered little tint-heads that were headed.

‘There’s an encephalic-abrogate. ’ And there’s his husband.

He fell from a ladder and broke his throat.

As soon as she found him dead laying on his bead, she came through and started suffocating him, putting him inside a little corn-dead little poxfilled cave.

She would pay in the afterlife, there was nothing going on the floors. Afterlife was floors.

Who would take care of their spawns?

Two boys, one daughter, a month put inside a villa with saw-blades, little spikes and many other torture devices put inside, they sent the first encephalic-abrogates in, they died at the door-step, taking the spawns with them, whom were put in a yarn-ball made out of dead people, who spat Agrippa, from the Agrippa came butterflies and moths, they ate her hair.

One of the scientists remained bashed into a wall instead. It was her villa, the decision was made.

Upon the last day of her living, she ate a yogurt, slowly dying of food poisoning, she was driven to Agrippaesuicide.

She was done, she knew we would live on little pegs of sugar until the diabetes took over.

‘I am the cement, the encephalic-abrogates are taking me but they won’t step on me, that’s propaganda, I know what it is.

I know what it is, they wish to torture me, they want to kill me, I don’t know.

I don’t know, I don’t want to be with them, I’m afraid. Woe to me, for I am to be killed.

Listen, listen, I’m not instead, I’m not insane, I shall go into my aunt’s belly, where the red-headed.

’ ‘I am a killer, I don’t care.

’ There was this lady and she spoke a lot, why does she go to church? I don’t want to hear about it, please stop lady.

Lady, stop talking to your tumor-created effigy, I can see it grow, I am afraid.

Stay there, in front of it, it’s different when you see it, she says. She will grow inside of it eventually.

They kept a sermon with little puckers that exploded and the lady’s head was popped right open, entered her chest, then got out through her runt, creating a light, where a few volunteers offered to suck her off, as she started completely rotting away in the matter of a few hours during the

night, to which they nested inside of her, trying to stab her thoroughly until she couldn’t help herself any longer.

Truth be told, they could be killed and flinched, they had to be cut, vomit, and they all exploded soon after.

Getting out was the hardest, couldn’t get away until Monday when the day of the slitting of nails through which the mad creatures danced, in June came out, completely shattering their femur-dancers which had eight heads and became the old-wreathed abominations that were but rebuilding the buildings, and didn’t care about what was going on.

Death-collectors, they were called.

Dressed in tatters, they collected the limbs and put them in barrels, the barrels were brought to the False-Martyr who began eating from the barrels.

It was pitiful trying to eat through the guts, they were narrow in the head, split, they looked in eighteen directions, crack-open window eyes.

Always paying more than needed; it was fair.

‘Son, I’m only going to tell you this once, always pay a man more than he’s asked for once he’s done jittery done-done working his wage do and laid the foundation.

Men are loyal, men are kept done, if you do what they’re worth, and keep them on.

They’ll always come back.

’ The first semester of pain followed, his son became a strange thing, they didn’t listen to the Agrippa that spoke out of the lower pouches of his belly which grew around, he didn’t know what was underneath his lower-side, that being buried even deeper than before.

Prior to the sounds, he had come to the realization that the live he was going through wasn’t what he wanted, yet it was too late to turn around.

Life caught up with the man, he’s traded his time for an encephalic- abrogate, for spawns, for family, stability, security, the chance of paying his mortgage, being left with just about a mundane life, a drinking habit which in turn made it so all of his fantasies died over and were never realized, making him consider, anything but suicide, but in this case, what could’ve been.

While time is on no one’s side, that means that five years afterwards, he went through a rough divorce as his marriage had shown signs of failing as early as during the first few months after their engagement, despite the fact that they had a well-going and most memorable honey moon, that remains the highlight of their life spent together.

What comes after, well and enough being alimony, spawn support, the never-ending split that took away his apartments, vacation houses, villas, plus a never-ending rising debt as well as bankruptcy, with him having to step out of the prestigious position he held at Clark and Real means Pox enterprise, having to live with the shame of knowing that someone who is unfit to be in lead, as the head CEO of the company took his place, he was left with nothing more but a death-wish that had to be immediately met.

Coming now, to having considered as much, he had grown jealous of that lady’s ability of talking for hours without saying anything, as dumb and benign as it were, despite having something come through one ear only to pass through the other, he saw that as nothing more but the eternal corrugated-spheroid ability of just repeating what she’s being told while making it seem like she thought she was the one saying in the first place.

That tying in with this arrogance, yet confidence in which she is displaying the message, making is seem like she actually believes what she says or that she came up with those things in the first place.

Agrippas, therefore had always been hard to understand, perhaps they were simply hardwired not to be human, as that would explain a lot, not animals either, but actually pseudo-machines that would add nothing to anything whatsoever.

But their bodies made it seem like there was more to it, which was always distracting, since logic does not account for a corrugated-spheroid’s body shapes.

It cannot.

For what is worth, all of those repeated things she keeps spewing out of their filthy mouths, at the very least what makes is bearable is their bodies.

There’s nothing else that’s redeemable about them either than that, none whatsoever, but too much of it, and then, nothing’s forgivable.

an encephalic-abrogate that exposes herself to other men is only inviting others to think of her as what she is.

A dumb whore, an animal and animals need to be abused.

If people act like animals, then people admit to themselves that they don’t see themselves as human, it’s as simple as it is.

Animals are violent, animals are borderline evil, especially the carnivore ones that eat other animals alive, it’s why Agrippas do it in their cannibalistic lineages, in their tiny primitive dimensions, that’s how they are, and they cannot change, because they are bred and raised by other animals who don’t know any better.

They must be insane, they are insane, and insane people should be put down and eaten.

If they’re not human, they’re animals.

If they’re animals they can be eaten, therefore it doesn’t count as cannibalism, since it’s a loop-hole.

Law is evil, law abuses loop-holes. Lawyers are evil because they are Agrippa. That is how life is.

‘We gather around in mourning and in faith, upon this bleak day, in this cemetery, to mourn this great loss.

’ The Reverend was talking to himself. No one attended the funeral.

It was dark, the soil was black, everything looked black, Agrippa and gray and in the distance he could see a few Agrippas being preserved by the standing willows, dangling around upon being pushed by dark winds.

It was strange day, indeed it was.

But there were no other Agrippas around, so it was acceptable. As soon as the air cleared the Reverend continued.

His head jerked around violently, cocking off his throat as if it was caught in a never ending attempt to snap itself over.

It was all too great.

He ate a cyanide pill he took out of his pocket, then fell in the open dirt-hole where the man had been put in.

Open basket.

‘I am the False-Martyr.

’ He spoke, he said, he enunciated every syllable. Indeed, they bowed to him.

And his servant brought him a plume of skies made it bulks of bulbs that were put together and sprouting from a dark cone with many burst-out peculiar shapes that seemed to be fit inside one another like puzzle pieces yet they were made out of some organic substance that ate itself and appeared to form thin elongated inflated rose-like shapes, within every petal there being a fatter stretch that made them looked like

pseudo squirming blooming cabbages, which started bloating themselves over, pushing around while they flapped like malignant wings.

Wind being blasphemed as it became a strangely coagulated rotated little pox-filled fat device that began carried single beating organs inside of them, locked as if they were held in cages, floating around the room.

From his peculiar seat, he looked around the room. It was all ruined, this was the foyer.

The stairs were placed behind him, right where they lead to another room which had another, much wider, higher-raised pair of stairs leading to the next floor.

Next floor, was next door. That’s where the stairs lead to.

That’s how the entire building was built.

The foyer, leading to a right leaving, upwardly put stair-way leading to a door that lead to a straight-upwardly leading door that opened to a foyer that had five apartments.

Four in the front, one in the right, where the door to the right wasn’t an apartment, but another stairway that lead upwardly, then to the right; going along the structure, as if it would wrap around the insides of a tower, which had an empty dark smaller flat on every side building shaped hollow spot that was dark on the inside, while there was a huge gap, but not as large above the foyer, between the top of the ceiling and the fourth on the left apartment, if seen from the open door or from the stairway which was much wider than the three others.

Although if one were to look at its empty frame or the skeleton it bore from the front side as to align the gaps and everything inside, one could see that the small building-hollow spot would be hard to be made out of mere sight as every other shape would be somehow overlapped by everything by the apartments themselves.

And the initial dark gap on the right side between the foyer, which is on the left, the wall opposite to it that’s placed on the right, the first set of apartments that are slightly to its right, then placed slightly above the stairs, and the next apartments which would be placed further on the right, and slightly more raised, one could see a dark gap that’s the shape of a boot, making the hollow building spot somewhat uneven.

While the boot had a square on its left side, from the front, which would be more likely a rectangle if it were to be seen front the left side of the building, rather from its front side.

The top gap above the foyer being raised at to form a box, yet in the back it would take the mold of the wall, the right side of the upward-

right leaning side of the stairway, then the left hollow spot of the next set of stairways leading into the room.

A peculiarly deformed giant lived in the hollow rectangle boot hollow, to the left side of the False-Martyr, though he couldn’t see him, he could sense the creature in there.

Its torso was all the way back, its throat a flaccid fat black coil that’s touching the chest, where the head rests across its belly, twisted in the front.

All cut-texture like, with many crevasses as well as peculiarly formed ravines and mounts across its body.

Its arms and legs both segmented by