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The light, which hung high above the massive room, cracked and hissed as it cast its intermittent light across the many corpses that littered the cold chamber. Some covered in white sheets soiled in blood, others in total nakedness, as if speaking out in their vision of dark sorrow. Most with lasting expressions of deaths harbinger still frozen in silent screams. This, the last party within their cold blue tiled cell, the only resemblance of any human dignity that remained, was read upon the greasy papered toe tags marking the names of the forsaken. These, the men, women and children of the lost, taken by the dark lord to the depths of purgatory, none survived the journey to any heavenly light……..But succumbed only to the hand of the pale serpent, the one who reaps.
The last of the great Fulton Ferry boats began its drudgery across the East River, and cut across the water like a dull knife through soft flesh, making its slow path towards the city of lights, shadowy people milled about its deck in heavy coats with collars upturned as the wind caressed their faces with its sullen chill. They pointed at all the popular landmarks that dotted the skyline of Manhattan, and clung to each other in secluded comfort as the boat traveled on…….In its mist shrouded journey across the river. But an unseen presence griped these souls in its icy claw, and they all seemed to witness a nervous tension that moved along their bony spines, creating certain uneasiness, of a dark foreboding. Desmond stood at the bow of the ferry as he lit up a lucky strike, and then pulled it from his dry lips, spiting the loose tobacco from his tongue. His eyes searched the faces of the boats human cargo, and felt them within his black heart, their warm blood pulsating through living flesh, their souls flying within their pale frames like black flies to dog feces. But soon they would be departing their safe haven…….Soon they would be pulled into the darkness and into depths of their eternal wretched suffering……….He put the cigarette to his lips and took the smoke deep into his lungs, and watched as the bow of the giant freighter sliced through the starboard side of the ferry. The ear splitting sounds of twisted metal and splintering wood rang through his ears intermingled with screams of horror. His eye lids went to half mast as he felt the violence, then euphoria filling his rancid heart………She sunk in an instant, as all perished in a river of black, bodies floated amongst the wooden debris in pools of blood and oil………He tore them apart……..And drug them into his personal hell, there to suffer onto the hands of his indifference. The blue tiled cold chamber of the morgue on East 97th and Lexington Ave held them in their momentary sleep………For they all would eventually become the minions to the dark lord, their cold grotesque marbleized bodies to rise once more to satisfy the hunger of the prince himself. Moving within the shadows as flashes of death in the dreams of the living, becoming the creatures…….. Feeding on the innocents lost. Desmond walked across East 97th as a light rain turned to snow, and swung his head towards the entrance to the morgue…….The dead began to emerged from the marble façade, Their transparency moving in and out of light and shadow…….Becoming transfused with their surroundings, and mixing into the dimness of the gray concrete, until the day that they would be called into servitude……..The screams, which only he could hear, were forever imprinted within him, contorted and twisted faces in dark visions searching for release from the pain, and the agony that they knew would never subside. |