Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Annabelle/Echo slid the note under the sliver of candle light and read its tightly composed body. Shuffling behind her disfigured marvels with razor embedded claws growled. Her patience wore thin. It seemed like not so long ago when she controlled them with her thoughts. She smothered the flame between her fingers and smiled as darkness quickly settled in. The brick wall peeled away like an orange. She peered into the rip and beheld fiends with disfigured bodies and disjointed jaws. Pinhole streams of light caught slippery flesh as they raced toward freedom and she stepped aside to allow them space.   Horror poured into ancient corridors. Walls tall and wide, short and narrow, trembled as fleshy balls began to take over their brick and stone. Married with this latest change a mechanical hum ebbed and surged.

 Dimensions: a topic fools bargained with for decades. As she poured over the details before her stamped in bold black ink her shoulders rounded. Even by candlelight they absorbed colors and blurred beneath her steady gaze. By now the lump in her throat hardened and as she tried to swallow it refused to budge. Leaning closer toward the crinkled parchment she took a deep breath and held it until her chest ached.

"L'inferno è un luogo vero e proprio consumata da diavoli," she read and stopped as a chill raked down her spine. A sour taste flooded her taste buds and as one by one letters fell into place her heart leapt into her throat. The invisible hand composing them was not finished yet.

The cabin shifted around her, groaned as though a presence resided within its decaying wood, and she bound the folds of her blanket tighter together. Draped over her shoulders it hung long with frayed ends that skimmed the floor.

Necromancy resided within her solar plexus, her infinite nucleus. Brows wrinkled as eyes narrowed. Void of sexual characteristics, using "her" or "him" in reference to self was ludicrous. Still the sound felt lucrative on her tongue as her view shifted. Emerald embers evolved in the distance.  It was then she spotted the first hint of daylight and watched from a poorly boarded window as the sun rose higher.

Misery outweighed all the sands of the sea. Strength to tolerate nothingness encouraged mortals to live another day in this reality. Knowledge such as that played upon their emotions. Perhaps both combined presented the human spirit with defenses to endure a sick body. Whatever the design consisted of it proved a fruitful one.

In a sun lit patch a vial glistened. Its murky contents highlighted polished marble beneath. An assortment of containers, labeled and marked, sat to the left. From a shaded corner she watched and waited. With her pale hair pulled back into a severe bun, her face was pinched, tight and expressionless. Like a statue she remained transfixed until the liquid began to simmer. Only then she flinched and folded her hands over one knee. As it boiled over in spurts of uncultured bubbles her forehead creased.

The glass splintered then shattered. Across the table its essence scattered except now it was dust, colored pink and continued to bake in the steady sunshine stream until all that remained was a dried film. A chalky odor hung in the air.

Death had no obvious anecdote after all. Humanity's architecture established once again its paramount integrity. Echo/Annabelle sighed, her mauve stare wandered and realizations dawned on her; not even an Ancient revised mortal law.

Steel flashes performed behind her eyelids. It was picturesque. Silver strings of teeth submerged into flesh and sweet crimson pooled up beneath. Captivating incisions made a smirk tease her lips. But how could flesh open when flesh wasn't flesh at all?

The necropolis summoned her. Cries of the departed resonated in her ears and she squinted. Muscle trees growled in anguish, their eyes bleeding beads in their plump trunks. On their stripped branches emaciated fingers proliferated. They wiggled and coiled inward as she crawled closer. Bathed in a maroon luminosity her head tilted toward the sky. A blood sphere hung there.

Serrated and perverse shafts sprouted from the skyline like putrefied carcasses. Her distinct stature established hillside as she transferred her weight to one hip. From a heart of pure chaos, their design forged. Why should now be any different?

She sank to her knees as once more she discovered herself back at the cabin.  She hadn’t intended on returning so soon, but it was safer in here than out there.  She nestled herself in a corner, knees drawn under her chin, and waited.  She didn’t want to know what she waited for only that it was surely on its way.

Pallid fragmented tile hailed expired appendages as they birthed color, copper perfume and uniformity. Overhead burning artificial beams reflected on it almost as though urging it along in its journey toward a slumped heap in the corner.  Under a halo of now untidy hair she lifted her dirt caked face.  Her tongue slid across her lips as she bent to lap at the salty juice. Her jaw twitched, her hooded eyes rolled back into her skull and the column of her throat protruded as it skated down her gullet.

Bone shifted beneath bulging meat as a spasm tore from her forehead to her chin. On all fours her body shivered as ligaments snapped like twigs and sinew divided. From the yawning chasm ivory branches fractured and gray matter spilled forth from a bone bowl followed by bleached organs.

She crawled toward the door an unrecognizable mess though emerged onto the porch a newly formed abomination. Daylight was prematurely spent as darkness embraced vaguely familiar surroundings. A little blood here, a little blood there; precious elixir manufactured under a cancerous jewel. Taste and substance are only two of its charming qualities.  A row of silver teeth glinted beneath a moonlight's beam. Turning its head skyward stars peeked out from behind a blanket of darkness. Scents, thoughts and emotions carried by a breeze flooded its senses.

Each flesh walker had a story. Preferences, memories and experiences varied to some degree, but they were still tied together by elements of belief. Disease managed to sort and place them in different categories. Such a plausible affliction guaranteed finite being.

It curled elaborate fingers into an ashen palm. Whisking a split tongue before it, the creature leapt from the tree branch. The air was an assortment of fragrances. It left a putrid aftertaste that made it quickly coil its tongue back and behind thin pasty lips. For a moment it then paused among generous clusters of foliage. Through brief spaces it watched flesh walkers as they hurried along stretches of cement.

What was that pressed to their ears, it wondered. Not all of them operated the device though most still possessed them. Flexing its mind it gathered these electronic marvels somehow helped them communicate.

"What are you doing watching them, Annabelle," Krosnos hissed.

Echo/Annabelle turned, its body arched. It tapped its ebony fingernails against its lean thigh as it asked, "What are you doing spying on me?"

Krosnos folded smoky arms. "Your rank among the elite is suffering!"

"The elite themselves are suffering," Echo/Annabelle retorted.

"You cannot possibly be suggesting you are..."

"No, of course not, but none of that even matters or is the heart of the matter!"

 "Then what does matter?"

"Those words were used for another," Krosnos seethed.

"But it is a happening that binds us," it retorted. "It is our daemon alcohol."