The Power of Blood

Hell to Pay: Chapter 7

The blood flowed into the back of his mouth.  The room was cold, but the blood was warm.  It tasted rancid.  The fur tickled his throat and he promptly spit the skull out on the ground in front of him.  More blood dripped from his lips, and the decapitated body was grasped tightly in his fist.

Blood trickled from the neck.  It was on his hands, and it streaked down his own neck and into his collar.  He played with the slick sensation between his fingertips.  It was quickly going cold, like the body of the mouse would once discarded.  The heart of such a small animal beats much faster than that of a human.  Its metabolism is much higher as a result.  If it doesn’t eat often, it would become catatonic from lack of energy.  This thing had been feeding off the scraps left behind when Teivel and his parents had left.  It’s stomach was fat with grains of rice, full of potential energy, life power.

The lines in coal dust on the ground remained inactive.  When Teivel closed his eyes, the same image was pulled from his memory.  Yet the one he had drawn before was crimson, not dull and grey.  It had produced, as it seems, pure darkness, pure evil.  Had it been a dream?

He pulled back his sleeve, revealing the scar, healed but still buried deep in his flesh.  It was real.  His bloody hands traced the charcoal lines, the porous dust sucking up the moisture.  A draft of wind was pulled in through the chimney  flue, blowing some of the dust gently across the floor.  Teivel continued to trace the shapes.  A sharp pain returned to the six-pointed star carved in his arm.  He felt weak, bending over the ground, he placed both hands down for support.  The dead mouse tumbled from his grasp.  Each breath he took drew air into his lungs, cold, they burned.

Dark wisps of smoke seemed to arise from the fresh lines of blood.  They curled gently in the air, dancing among the coal dust in the rays of light coming in the window.  The center of the pentagram  produced more smoke, heavy and black as the Rabbi’s robes.  It slowly spread across the floor, like a bucket of pitch that had been overturned.Continue reading “The Power of Blood”

Knowledge, Aflame

Hell to Pay, Chapter 6

Teivel rolled out from under the pew.  The rafters of the ceiling collected smoke, which seemed to roll inwards up the pointed roof.

The synagogue was still devoid of people.  Teivel spun his head around looking for the source of the smoke.  The large room was stifling from the heat.  The doors leading to the back of the building poured out from the edges of the door jamb.  Teivel quickly ran to the back and reached for the door knob.  The heat was bearable, but only just so.  The door swung open to reveal several bookshelves in the back ablaze, carrying with them decades on decades of knowledge.

The fire jumped up one towering bookcase at a time, slowly reaching the front end of the church.  Teivel ran inside, trying to grab any books he could muster.  Hus lungs and throat took on the scorching smoke, and he felt his strength leave his body.  The heavy books dropped from his grasp, forced to back out of the room.  The Quaran on the alter sat before him as he crouched down to catch his breath.  Regaining his strength, he went to pick up the massive book.  Shoving it under his arm, he made a dash for the door.

The bright light of the mid afternoon blinded him for a brief moment.  His eyes adjusted, and he found himself face to face with a man in another fancy uniform.  The man, who had been standing in front of the opposite door was equally surprised.  Teivel recognized the symbol on the man’s uniform; it was not someone he would want to deal with at the moment.  Before the man could react, Teivel took off down the road.

He didn’t dare  look back to see if he was being pursued.  The neighborhood before him was familiar, it was his.  Finally able to catch his breath, he looked around for anybody following him or otherwise.  Everyone living in this quarter had been shipped off like him.  For some reason though, they had set the synagogue ablaze.  It was no act of nature or bad luck.  He found his way to his home, still intact.  Busting through the door, he ran back to his old room where the last remains of his notes would be.Continue reading “Knowledge, Aflame”

Thoughts on Flight

So I made it through security.  My pack with harddrive, camera, computer mouse, microphone, and a mess of wires even made it through without a second look.  The lady behind me in the line had a bulldog which she had to carry through the metal detector.  It was entertaining.  The dog overall seemed more composed with the whole situation than my mom during the whole trip down.

I’ve had jobs that are a mixture of mind-numbing and consistently hectic.  I can imagine working at an airport would be both.  People in cars, trams, taxis, people with lots and lots of luggage; people asking the same question; people getting infuriated at the answers you provide to them; people in general.  People are what really make certain jobs worse than they need to.

Now I sit here in the airport, waiting for my first flight.  I managed to snag a table with a plug for my laptop, where I am writing this.  I managed to upload my last U.S. vlog on the airport internet, quick quickly I might add.  I edited it in the hotel last night; while watching Zoolander and using my body as a desk laying down on the bed.  The youtube thumbnail hasn’t loaded yet, and I will probably only get to see it once I touch down in France; Maybe Dallas if I have time.

Regarding of Dallas, I am afraid.  It is probably big, like Texas itself.  I have to make it from domestic flights over to the International terminal, and I don’t know what hoops I may have to jump through.

If I have time, I am definitely going to invest in some sort of alcohol to help the 9 hour flight to Paris be a little more bearable.  If all goes according to plan, all this junk and more on the next vlog.

Little Lost Sandwich

I was at the store tonight buying something to quench my thirst (and nothing else because I’m not going to be around to consume it) and I came across this little guy, all lost with no place to go.

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Sandwich, taken with potato.

Since I just quit my job at a supermarket, this only triggered me slightly.  I mean, how long had he been out, all cold warm and alone, away from his home in a cold case, or better, someone’s stomach.  Sadly, it was probably already too late for him.

While I won’t miss making sandwich after sandwich for hours a day, I will never stop enjoying them.  For my entire stay in France, I plan to take record of anything sandwich-like that comes my way.  You have my word that I will never be forced to leave one to the same fate as this one.