The Fractured Spiral...and the briefest shade of Amber...

You find the note beneath the mulch...

at evening as the light turned red,

a note written upon animal-hide...

and addressed to you directly,

You read it hidden...

amongst the dust below your house,

and feel your senses opening...

with the fictions promised there,

 

'The Sinister Meeting Room calls...

and we know you met our guide,

calls himself Mr. White n S...

and he shall be your illuminator tonight,

to get to our merry Hell Ball...

you must find your oldest mirror,

even a reflection through water will do...

and at seven minutes past two,

press your hand against what you see...

the rest shall unfold from here.'

 

 

You do as instructed...

you press your hand to the glass,

and you feel it trembling and fracturing beneath the press...

of your fingerprints upon its' surface,

you gaze into its' depths...

for five minutes,

maybe six...

and then you see something stir within there,

a familiar figure...

ghostly and wicked,

he steps towards you from within the mirrors' depths...

and reaches for your hand with his,

presses his palm against yours...

and unable to understand how,

or even desiring to know...

you feel his reflection,

the being trapped within your mirror...

seize you by the wrist and pull you through.

 

You are swimming...

in the deepest of dark lights,

murky flashes...

of brilliantly odd colours,

surround you from time to time through the gloom...

he is there,

Mr. White n S...

and you feel him dragging you up,

through the crushing darkness...

and the strange water,
towards a sort of light...

and as your hand breaks the surface,

lifeless ones take hold of your fingers...

 

You hold back a cry...

as you are drawn from the waters,

and into a most garish of sights...

you see that you are standing,

on a beach of broken telephones and toys...

forgotten bird wings and ripped apart clothes,
and an endless rhythm of noise.

Then you see in the near distance...

a hill draped in shadow,

by a sea that screams and crashes against rust...

and upon the hill,

a twisted wreckage leans...

a ship the size of a mountain,

with a fabulously long table...

winding its' way across its' fractured deck,

blood-glow lanterns...

adorn its' every point,

and a hundred million crows...

roost silently upon its' fallen mast and the beach,

Mr. White n S....

stands silent by your side,

and the dead hands that pulled you out...

belong to the being that stands out wide,

 

a Lady of feathered black...

who breathes a cold against you that is eternal and epic,

she is the shrieking of the wind...

through gaps in your windows,

and the voices that whisper...

when the hours are dead,

and your thoughts merge...

You hear then a melody,

fine as a twisted bone...

as depthly as a lake,

that spirals down into the void...

it fills you with cold chills,

and the purest vein of ecstasy...

and allowing the Lady and your guide to grasp your hands,

you are led on...

closer to the music,

and the eerie chattering upon the ship...

you three appear to float above the wreckage,

of that lost and forgotten beach...

you feel your mind,

your thoughts...

your beliefs,

slipping away with the tide...

you are there,

and you are not afraid...

it is only the thrill,

of those haunted faces...

and that unearthly music you hear,

pulling you forward...

enticing you on,

until you are climbing the ships cracked hull...

 

 

Once standing you are surrounded by it,

by the vicious melody,

insatiable and sinister...

you see a thousand faces,

or mayhaps just two dozen...

grinning and baring their long teeth at you,

and reaching for a hug or a shake of your hand...

some have grey wings,

that pool and drag the dust up from the deck...

while others stare with pale and sightless eyes,

grinning at you just as you turn your back....

others are like trees,

with their whispering ways...

and draping limbs that scrape the dust,

from beneath the rust and deck...

there are creatures that fade amidst a scattering of light,

and strange daerk beings...

that twine and unfurl in the corners,

hats ten thousand metres high...

and smoke that swarms in fluorescent shapes,

adorn the mirrors and walls...

the table smells like a ten car pile-up of food,

with the most luscious of berries,

entwining with frost-aged cheese...

 

 

Goblets of wine,

and other ancient drinks...

are passed around at ease,

and the cacophony of noise...

rises towards the sea and stars,

as you feel your mind at reprieve...

gifts are exchanged,

and stories about one another told...

you discover that you know these strangers quite well,

and that they understand your heart best of all...

thoughts are whispered,

and jaunts shrieked...

and then amidst it all,

you feel and hear the call...

Mr. White n S. places his hand upon your shoulder,

as the feathered lady speaks to you...

 

'Take now the blade,

you kept hidden from before...

and make a choice now,

before our walls crumble down to the floor...

First carve your name into the stone,

as an acknowledgement of the fact...

then choose your destiny,

your life...

your virtue,

with this one intolerable act...

stab yourself between the ribs,

straight into the heart...

or stab the mirror,

break your reflection...

and allow your soul and self to be free.

Make your choice now...

remove the mask,

and mark your decision with a knife.'

 

What you choose is up to you...

but you mark your name upon the stone,

stab your choice and feel yourself new...

you feel yourself growing numb,

as your decision is accepted...

no matter its name,

and the beat thunders out through your heart...

and the music grows bolder,

and the ghouls about you dance closer...

and you feel it all merge,

then...

you are being pulled and then carried,

away from the lights...

away from the melody,

in Mr. White n S.s arms...

and with the feathered lady by your side,

she waves at you...

as your guide carries you into the deep and dark lagoon,

the way by which you came...

you glimpse a last smile from her,

before you are travelling through other worlds...

You eventually feel yourself being lowered into your bed,

the deepest of sleeps descending upon you...

yet as you fall within,

you glimpse in the darkness...

the most brilliant of smiles and winks,

and the scantest note of that ageless music...

creeping its' way into the night.

 

 

  Sorry for the slightly late blog...I love you all btw.

       Have a fabulously nasty Halloween everyone, hope you were able to scare some life into someone today. I vented my frustration on some flowers as I wore my monster helmet. It was awesome. I'm thinking of eating the flowers tomorrow. I DO NOT have you-know-what. Watch Coraline, eat pumpkin pie and drink caramel hot chocolate in front of a fire. No better way to enjoy this time.
  Missing the island.

Much Love,
  Miss CLScarlett xx

 



 

 







The Darkness Purchased a New Coat...

 

Heart Beats

Heart beats - heart breaks,

quivers first...

so fake,

Shatters apiece,

tears of heat...

laid upon a bed of sleet,

Heart beats -  heart breaks,

the sun grows cold – why do you wake?

Lies done,

breath given...

fatal music,

sung to Heaven

Heart beats - heart breaks,

longing for some,

wishing another...

Dagger drops,

winds pierce...

the quiet it scares me,

too deep too deep...

Heart beats - heart breaks,

kissing him,

between sleep and wake...

holding him...

a dying heart,

my tears of dust – a farce

Heart beats - heart breaks,

tear at the cords...

scream silent screams,

Wake again now...

cry yourself to sleep,

beat beat beat...

Heart breaks - heart breaks,

Ties of love,

a trees cool song...

turn to flame,

on chance he is gone...

Flee as lightning,

before your feet melt...

leap to the sky,

before your throat bursts...

Heart beats - heart beats

leave me be,

is crystal clear...

Heart beats - heart breaks,

Can't find a heartbeat,

 that never was there...

Heart beats - heart shatters.

[A poem written a long time ago...]

 

You feel your heartbeat return...

and a tapping upon your dust-smeared window,

in the deadest hour of the night...

waking you from your troubled slumber,

you look out and see a figure...

in ghost-white,

and the faintest of razor smiles...

beckoning you out from between your sheets,

You move through your house...

past the thudding load of the dryer,

through the creaking of the floorboards and clocks...

that adorn your seaside home,

you feel the breathing of the beings around you...

and the late night rusty wind,

you pry the door to your house ajar...

and slip into the dark,

you see him standing there...

tall and with reaching hands,

he grips one of your wrists...

and a careful hand upon your shoulder,

frightfully strong yet barely a touch...

and he ushers you forward,

whispering words into your ear...

'Be still,

listen here...

a summons has come unto you,

the Sinister Meeting Room calls...

for you to attend a most terrifying of evenings,

shadow-late on October the 31st...'

 

 

'You may not bring your diplomacy,

you should not bring your dread...

embrace the dark,

and cut off the ties...

bring instead,

your ferocious humour...

dance the lethal steps,

and take in hand the knife...

carve your name in the stone laid bare,

and allow your hand to stab the mirror...

shed your reflection and take again my hand,

allow me to lead you...

to where the party truly lies,

I shall return to you...

one night hence.'

 

The white figure leers in the darkness...

and offers you a mock bow,

he turns and shimmers in the ageing night air...

and fades from your very sight,

you consider the beings offer...

and whether or not any of it is true,

when you look down and see within your hands...

the blade he had whispered about to you,

with a note attached to its' end.

You close your fingers...

about its' cold and unforgiving edge,

and turn back...

the shades whispering desire and conviction into your head.

 

'We invite you...

to a grand evening of Dark Rotation.

To locate us...

you shall receive a Letter of Directioning,

at the eleventh hour.'

 

   Haello people of the Otherly,

     I've been in deep space darkness, and have only now dipped down from my orbit to breathe the oxygen and smell the hay and earth and rain mixed together. Time had become strange and there is no normality in the lies and lines and actions anymore...even what I write and think. Where is the way out of the box and the lock and the labyrinth?
   WE forget what we decided to forget, even when we do not desire it.

Much LOve,

   Miss CLScarlett xx



P.S. If you're looking for an awesome read in the spirit of this month, read The Replacement by Brenna Yovanoff.

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

A Hundred Thousand Leviathans have nested within my Head...

 

Whoa
With our backs to the wall, the darkness will fall
We never quite thought we could lose it all
Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire
An empire's fallen in just one day
You close your eyes and the glory fades
Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire away (fire!)
Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire away

Off in the distance, there is resistance
Bubbling up and festering
Hey Mr Motion, make me a potion
Shake it all up with your mystery

How come I've never seen your face 'round here?
I know every single face 'round here
A man on a mission, changing the vision
I was never welcome here

We don't have a choice to stay
We'd rather die than do it your way

With our backs to the wall, the darkness will fall
We never quite thought we could lose it all
Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire
An empire's fallen in just one day
You close your eyes and the glory fades
Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire away (fire!)
Ready, aim, fire, ready, aim, fire away

Back in the casing, shaking and pacing
This is the tunnel's light
Blood in the writing, stuck in the fighting
Look through the rifle's sight
How come I've never seen your face 'round here?
I know every single face 'round here
Here in the heckle, holding the shackle
I was never welcome here...

 

[Imagine Dragons - Ready, Aim, Fire!

This song grows on you...listen to it a couple of times...]

 

 

'Have you ever looked at the blue sky through the branches of a tree before?'

 

A young one once said to an old one...

 

'No, I have not.' the old one replied.

 

'Heaven...I see Heaven through that.' the boy said.

 

'...and where is Hell?'

 

Deep under the earth,

we crawl beneath our skin...

crumbling with the grit,

as we rub our palms bare...

we float within our hearts,

and above the spinning earth...

because we have cut all bonds,

a million years before...

there is no settling for us,

no changing...

no arms encircled about us,

for the spite that drills holes in my head...

and the voices that talk in the dead hour,

they whisper to me...

from beneath the creaking floorboards,

and through the flimsy cracks in the walls and doors...

and I chose to listen to them,

that night long ago...

when the swirls of amber lit up my blood,

and the smell of apples singed the air...

and smoke burnt out from the molten core of me,

to suffocate my lungs...

as I chose to listen,

and felt the darkness grip me in claws and pull me down and back...

and now there is no way,

no way out from the labyrinth...

broken glass, endless doors, locked from within,

Eventually you create so many distractions...

and so many decoys,

that the key falls away...

and you realize you no longer recall the way out of the tunnels,

because they creep and shift inside of you...

drawing monsters and leviathans,

because the passage has been opened...

and it cannot be closed,

instead it grows...
and expands,

and strengthens...

 

 

 

Each night,

each hour...

each day,

You stop wanting everything...

and each evening you face the same choice,

your feet at the edge of a river...

and the bonds about your hands and the weight,

and you comfort yourself with an idea...

but never act,

even though the sea it pulls...

can we join to the ocean again?

Hear it's breath within our chests...

let ourselves be ripped apart and shaken by its fury,

as what we are is erased...

an all desires and heartache fades,

yet...

even there,

the darkness would wait...

calling and bailing,

to have you upon its' own playing field...

for what escape is there for the dead imprisoned?

So instead you stand upon the edge...

and stare into the abyss second after second,

as all of time cascades faster and faster down into it...

for its' hunger is growing,

and its' desire and screaming...

to have us all,

to devour our bones...

and leave the earth covered in ash.

 

 

 

 Ashes to ashes...

dust to dust,

and one night in the street-stench of just-rain...

we saw it,

there in the murk...

a green phoenix,

painted onto the road...

each day now we see it,

and it moves and extends and reaches forth...

and we wish we could move as fast as it darts and streaks,

and so it rises...

from the pale ashes,

to cut a pattern into the night sky...

to gorge a hole in the darkness,

and be released...

from its' cage of stars.

 

 

 

 

 

   Hi there lovelies...

 

Hope you are all faring well this spooky month. Of plans...at least once this month I will put on my creepy-as mask and outfit and wander the streets like a dead person. Just try and stop me....unknown people hehe. This is the only thing worth doing, it seems.

 

    I dare you to try and take each moment to the extreme...what other ways are we to have fun? And there's so many incredible ways to wear a mask. ;]

 

 

   Much Love,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 

The Fish They Swam They Devoured They Sung...

 

I feel like something ancient and forgotten...

two centuries removed at least,

something that was lost two million years ago...

in a cacoon of amber and sleet,

and now I can feel myself changing...

my limbs and  my skin shifting,

claws growing from my hands...

my reality fracturing,

the blood burning...

and shrieking within me,

disjointed melodies plague us in the dark...

and the whispers crawl like the crows their eyes they dart,

I have decided you see that this month of October...

shall be haunted all through,

and perhaps fate shall have the luck of you...

I find myself writing these days,

away from reality and with the lights off...

we are dreaming of smoke,

that pours from a thousand hills...

and a figure on the mountain opposite to you,

whispering your name...

'We are shadows of what they believe us to be,

and we are more...'

Imagine an ocean,

if you dare...

dream deep and long,

and envision...

that your ocean looks like a lake,

you see it...

and believe it to be shallow and clear and beautiful,

yet beneath it...

it is plagued ever-long by depths that spiral down,

down deep...

into the bones of the earth,

while the pale and sharp creatures nibble their way through its' sides...

 

 

Through its' core,

and it is changed...

and we are changed with it,

dear creatures of myth and legend that read here...

the Triangles are expanding,

and the time is rushing more furiously...

we are tripping over the feet that once held us,

all the while unaware of the mouth that yawns behind us...

we run and we falter and we scream and we sprint,

a wolf did run...

shrieking through the night,

and the rain and the pouring hail...

until finally it sunk,

crying into the night...

for all it had ignored.

 

We listen to riddles so as to forget the rest,

and we decided...

to hear.

 

Now the sun beats down...

on a street that wavers and flows,

I wish again for the jazz to break this heatwave...

and that devil-may-care grin,

shining out at me from the warm night shadows upon the roof...

we feel ourselves flickering,

with the world around us...

and once,

sometimes...

I hear the wood in the walls creak about us,

telling us about ways hidden in the structure of this ancient house...

Take a minute,

and step again to the shores of your ocean-lake...

Step in: tread carefully.

 

You feel yourself being pulled down deep...

the bone-jarring coldness tearing your senses to life,

the heat of the day slipping away like a second skin...

as the sea grips you by the wrists,

and drags you down...

you float past hues,

the barest shade of violet and green...

and a million shimmering fish,

fly past like a dream...

the coral coils in the shapes held inside your head,

and you feel yourself resting...

as though in the softest bed,

you are enveloped by the waves...

and countless grains of salt,

murmuring around you in an array of patterns and silt...

you sleep still.

 

You claw your way up the shore of an island...

from the sea that heaves and rolls,

you hear a solitary cry...

wind-like and forlorn,

echo about your head and the earth...

and as you look up,

you see a house built of off-white rock...

and from within beckons,

the scent of caramel and cream...

you walk forward,

through the cooling air...

and feel the sea-smoke,

rising from your skin...

as you breathe the oxygen in,

and you see that the house is covered in chimes...

and strangely broken shapes,

the smallest pools filled with shells and galaxies...

glint up at you from the sand around,

you see a figure beckoning...

and the smallest glimpse of feathers and sleek shadows,

dark ones that gaze from emerald eyes...

peering at you from below the awnings,

 

 

 

Inside you sit down and a gift is offered to you...

wrapped in black silk,

inside are two objects...

one delightful,

one horrid...

though the interpretation is up to you,

a slender knife of grey...

and a key fashioned from bones,

one is for the golden chain fashioned about your feet...

the other is for your heart,

the figure stoops...

and hands to you a dish of banoffee pie,

for strength and good-feeling...

they say,

a way to lighten up your soul...

on this your day your choice,

choose to plunge the knife...

and free yourself from this,

or unlock the chain...

and run like the wind,

like they'd never let you before...

 

Run child,

Run.

 

 

 

 

    Hey there Spooky-Monsters...

 

      The leaves of the trees are dying, and it feels like Summer now. I can only imagine that when it actually arrives, our skin and souls will be sinking through the earth...to get to some form of cold. Perhaps I shall sail and fly to Antarctica. Forget the warmth for a while so as to want it again.

 

   Drinking my prescribed Miracle Cider by Dr. Pilkington. I have been issued it for my troubles caused by barking and Bowerbirds. I was beginning to wonder....

 

   Much Love and endurance of this insane heat. Life is only fit to be beaching and drinking cider now or escaping to the darkness of the theatres.

 

  Miss CLScarlett xx