A ghost walks...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A ghost walks....

These Oceanic Dreams...

 

Our thoughts have become like leviathans to us...

Listen and hear our tale,

of this flip-side Christmas...

that we have lived many a year,

these words sink down through earth and bone...

lighting the dreams of innocents and criminal alike,

and again and again we fall...

we fall.

 

We are the in-between angels of the coldest places,

of the season...

we are in the briefest of smiles,

a mug of soup handed to a wandering soul...

the impression of music that teases your ears,

from just around the corner...

enticing,

and leading you on...

and as the secret keepers of old,

in coercion of the Sinister Meeting Room...

we send to you a letter,

you should find its' Material Form...

at half past the third hour of the morning,

in a teapot or a casserole dish...

depending on the weather about your home.

 

 

In essence this letter is an invite...

to step away from the sanity,

of our unending reality...

a small break in time,

to celebrate the most gothic of Christmas gatherings.

 

'For those who are born of the cold and the grime...

for those who call the streets their home,

for the faded hearts...

the ones who have forgotten,

the ones who no one dare invite to their parties...

and the one who don't believe anymore.

 

We care not for your faith...

nor for how evil and dark you are inside,

whether you have celebrated this season alone before...

or never seen fit to leave,

we bring to you...

a celebration for you.

 

 

Come one come all...

our poisons are divine,

we know you will find a certain cavalier...

in our merry Hell-bell of this festive twilight,

of delights.

 

You shall be called forth two nights hence...

until then,

keep what hearts you possess close...

and set guards by the doors at night,

listen always to the clock...

for it will chime,

our call...

your cry.'

 

...Miss CLScarlett xx...

 



 

 

 

Post-Denial of the Christmas Kind...

 

We are what we are...

 

However,

sometimes masks are enough...

and superstitious diversions clever enough to warp our truth.

 

We are however...

the Creatures that stalk,

the first two or three weeks of December...

we do not speak,

and we can no longer remember...

What we once knew however,

has become tattooed upon what skin...

 they allowed us to keep.

 

So now we read our own stories...

as though they were stars that had been inscribed,

in the Heavens above.

 

So it began...

We woke first deep beneath the earth,

to darkness and freezing cold...

we felt hands against our new wings,

twisting and teaching...

Teaching us what it was to feel fear,

so we would grow...

We were taught there was no life,

without fear...

 

 

Yet my Brethren and I,

we resisted...

We clawed our way up through the clay,

through the centipedes...

through the bones of old monsters,

to reach that harsh air of the above...

So finally we saw,

and felt...

and heard,

and remembered...

as the rain fell,

and then...

They,

came for us...

the Ones of Law,

the ones of deeper magic...

than we could fathom.

 

They cursed us...

forevermore.

Placed us in human forms,

that were mere prisons...

for the indescribable beings we had once been.

They placed us under the guard of many...

bondages wrought through debt,

through price...

through love,

through fear...

and still we cannot escape.

 

 

 

These silver threads bind us stronger than any chains...

and we long to destroy and cut and unravel,

but instead we are appointed the thieves...

the waifs,

the orderlies of the night.'

 

Ignore us shadows...

dear Sir and MadMadam,

for it is merely us...

wrapped up within a myth,

and sending you the remnants of what celebration we can give...

to you,

for once you have been properly terrified...

no greater is the beauty,

than of something as simple as a Christmas tree.

 

Perchance...

to dream of a true new start,

to dream a new dream...

and allow these wings to take flight,

to run further and farther than anywhere we have ever been...

to where no one will know our name,

and time takes a breather...

from his never-ending task,

of counting the many hours and minutes that had passed...

 

 

 

 

Let us rest and dream and create and remember and laugh....

 

I wish you already,

a Merry Christmas,

as melodramatically gothic as I can make it...

and please,

if you are - like me -....

a memory junky,

watch Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.

 

I will tonight...

though more often than not,

I need to watch Sucker Punch...

someone please buy me it for Christmas?

 

 

Much Love,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 



A Small whisper if you please...

 

May I tell you a story?

May I tell you a small version of the truth?

Allow me first to introduce myself,

I am your host...

the monster of your soul,

you may call me Mr. White n S...

and ware,

for Miss Scar is temporarily gone.

 

I shall reveal to you something I know,

something that was told...

there is a secret you see,

for the world is not merely black and white...

 

The skeleton of the world was set,

many moons ago...

it was not an orb,

single in space...

but a hundred,

perhaps a million...

interlacing spheres,

the creep-ways and gaps between where they overlap...

we have always found the trouble,

to slip between...

 

What is the past?

But a note of dust...

We can only ever live within our dreams,

without them...

perhaps our minds would be lost,

our sanity rent...

for to live in pure reality,

is something that you as humans could never accept.

You claim to not have dreams?

Dear, dear...

who fills their eyes with moving images?

Of a thousand spectacular colours and stories...

you who surrounds themselves with infinite sound,

who meditate...

down the tenth bottle,

breath the poison...

kill,

maim...

torture,

even when you tell a Child...

of the mysteries of Christmas,

all dreams...

we are born into a reality of dreaming,

which you may never wake from...

perhaps that is better.

 

Than what would remain...

 

Tell me something dear friends,

Do you hear it?

In your blood...

its' quickening,

the painful shiver of your skin...

the noises that stretch closer,

when your back is turned...

turn again dear,

no turn again...

let it drive you insane,

again and again...

until you smash apart the house,

to destroy that presence that is ever behind you...

yet once all lies as fragments at your feet,

still you feel it...

breathing its' freezing breath against your ears,

and you know it cannot be killed...

for it is the voice of your fear.

 

 

 

Let me tell you another tale...

about the ward I have elected to stand by my side,

what is the benefit...

one would ask,

of such a thing...

why stay close to a person,

who is a mess of darkness?

Mayhem and un-luck?

Indeed...

she keeps her masks fine,

and really mentioning such things...

about her fragile lucid state of mind,

she'd no doubt bite-off your hand...

denial is also kindred to her heart,

now as for reason...

a creature such as me has its' ways,

and she provides ample payment...

I am the kind who feeds off the dark,

and so find it quite to my liking...

I have been with her so long,

she follows the smallest of my suggestions...

I branded her mind long ago,

and now she knows no other love.

 

Do you want to hear the truth?

What she hides so well?

She is emotionless...

except at a basic level,

like the deepest depths of the sea...

its' storms,

maelstroms and typhoons...

and as mad.

All you see however of her...

is the placid,

clear and open shallows...

of a beach in paradise,

don't be fooled...

she has the capacity for death,

and indeed death follows her...

all throughout her life.

 

 

 

This girl has cut away her sentimentality...

and what endearing qualities she possesses,

are flawed by the emptiness and agitation...

that fills her by the hour,

my strength is becoming hers...

and ours is a strength of darkness and demons,

so be the labyrinth...

I watch her scramble about,

wait for her to come back to me...

proving my words again and again,

you little Scar...

are but a ghost,

without me at your side...

yes I do not save you from the Daerk,

and yes I am the one who whispers...

'drink just one more',

'go faster'...

'try this,

open the right door...'

For I am a face of darkness just as the rest,

and better the demon you know...

especially one that is the only being she trusts,

for my truth...

that I give,

despite the lies...

I reveal,

is more precious to her than...

the horrors that lay out there.

 

 

The end result is far better...

for she was always my gateway,

my first physical step...

into entering this world,

once she gives in...

once she stops believing in a capacity for sanity,

for retaining it...

for the capability of good,

then I shall truly be revealed...

I whisper the truth to her,

that time is hacking itself to pieces faster and faster...

and you already feel in your bones,

the death that awaits you...

for when death accompanies and destroys,

when Fate brings its' insane-ridden tricks...

upon all you know and care for,

you choose loneliness....

and the company of a demon,

so as to safeguard those many lives...

that you now feel to be as alien to you,

as the planets...

and you know,

that eventually death and Fate...

will tire of tormenting you by their pain,

and choose to devour you instead...

Don't you long for that dear Scar?

Perhaps they will continue your suffering...

Because we know it is this you seek,

it is nearest my greatest pleasure...

to talk you into holding the knife,

the gun...

the noose,

to your head...

and watching as you fail again and again,

and when you finally give up...

I will give you a Daerk reason to live again,

for it is also my greatest joy to deny you this...

your freedom or your death,

for death is not freedom...

for a greater darkness waits for you there,

soon I will convince you to buy that ticket...

and disappear into that far horizon,

be away and apart...

and by your side I shall remain,

as you age...

and soon only my eyes,

see your beauty...

after it is long gone,

my esteemed comrade...

you certainly knew when you pulled me,

from the deep DreamTime...

that I would become your heartbeat,

and your portion of sanity...

the comforting hand leading you away,

from the abyss...

when it is all you can feel,

and taste.

 

Sleep well Scar,

for I am the only one tethering you...

to the here and now.

 

My cold embrace...

is your sweetest addiction.

 

 

 

 

 

  I travelled to a lonely beach the night past this one. My two friends and I

     Careful Scar...saying such things always lead to heartache...or had you forgotten?

found a small alcove amongst the mist and shore breaks to rest the night...

  I remember being awake at sometime past three and seeing the stars viciously cold and bright,

so close and beyond impossible...

   Tell them Scar, tell them why you no longer sleep...why you keep your lights on throughout the hours of Darkness. Tell them...or should I?

  You've never needed permission from me before to cut apart my life So...

  You really have lost your touch dear...I do not perform the cutting, I merely lead you to its' door. There I will be waiting...for you to come back out, and come to me for comfort...

  So you say.

 ...and so I do. Right now however, you need to accompany me away from here. We have a certain meeting that requires both of us...a possible signature, but please don't trouble yourself dear...I am well acquainted with this kind of contract...all we need is your assent, a small forgetting...

  I don't...

  Come now Scar...of course you do...

  Sh........................................

 

 

 This is a small notice of Apology from

The Sinister Meeting Room...

The enigmatic Mr. White n S temporarily overtook our System of Degrees,

all shall be returned shortly to functioning capability...

until then please remain in our Reception Room,

a summons shall be sent to your shortly.

 

S.M.R