Midnights Requiem

Volume 1 The Dance Of The Damned; Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Dance Of The Damned,

book 1,

Midnights Requiem.

There is a created playlist on youtube that accompanies this work.

Both original music as well as inspirational listening as I wrote.

Feel free to check it out and set the mood and enjoy!

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLu2WhgrMp_R2QDChU6QuJz-irQE1t4UJy&si=PgixhpLCSKHsMrGR

( Please note, the original music is posted consists of rough demos)

++++++++++++++++++++++WARNING!!! GRAPHIC VIOLENCE,

This work is Not Vegan Friendly. I refuse to apologize! If rampaging radishes, carnivorous lettuce and salad catastrophe is more to your liking,

Then Do Not Read My Novel.

Welcome to the madness!

Sexual references, graphic violence and scenes;

Read at your own risk.

+++++++++++++++++++++

" She came to me in leather

Hell hounds at her heels

A courtesan of death

Black magick her appeal.

___________________

She appeared out of the fog like something from an old Hammer Dracula movie. Tall, Long flame colored hair that reached her waist. Black leather miniskirt, fishnets, four inch spike heeled black leather boots, and a black leather jacket, half zipped and clearly nothing under it. He could not stop himself from staring. This primal Goddess walking towards him was intoxicating to look at.

Her heels clicked on the brick paving as she approached him. He was mesmerized. Deep Inside alarms rang, instincts screaming at him to run. The eerie chills that ran up his spine caused him to shiver and tremble. She smiled a crooked smile as moonlight broke through the fog , her own personal spotlight. He would swear that it followed her, tracking her every move.

Michael almost did not notice the two huge dogs pacing on either side of her. He was so enraptured with her that they didnt register to him until a very wet cold nose nudged his hand. He damn near dropped the guitar that he was holding when he noticed. How in hells brightest flames had he missed those two Giant Wolfhounds?

Words ignited within his mind. Poetry did that to him, a sudden burst of knowledge that etched itself into his soul. The words burned through him leaving behind the verse fully formed. Michael only sat down to work at composing when paid to do so. Admittedly that had not been often. The one thing that these moments that he was possessed by had in common was that it was always lyrical with rhythm and melody self contained within the verse itself. The other thing, was that it was always at an inopportune moment, such as now.

***** ************ *******

" There was evil in her heart

Death lived in her eyes

Her smile a twist of madness

She held me mesmerized”

**************

Poetry burned its way through his brain. If by chance, Michael had had a single functioning brain cell he would speak those words of fire to this apparition of pure desire approaching him. Stunned fool that he is, he failed to use that gift of the heavens.

She stopped a few feet in front of Michael, smiling this joyously predatory smile, it seemed to burn into his brain, like a red hot branding iron. It was as if he were a drooling idiot incapable of speech. Flustered, his mind racing, heart pounding, he forgot to breathe. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes, faceted emeralds that glittered with cold flames, gazed straight into him. Michael could feel her studying him, as if weighing and measuring his heart and soul. Mesmerized Michael was lost in pure madness within as the words burned into his essence.

************

“Her footsteps rang with power,

She smiles and blasts the Tower

She’s the ten of swords as pretty as you please.

All her words were treason

Pure madness in it’s season.

She’s an evil dream just waiting for release.”

*********

The heavens had given Michael a prophetic gift, that he ignored in his fascination.

" Hello”, Michaels eloquence astounded him. The sound of his own voice startled him. To be fair, he was lucky to get a word out instead of merely a squeek.

She spoke to him, calling him by name. “Bore Da Michael.” Her accent was vaguely British. Definitely not English, more a softened Scots without the burr. She had spoken to him in Welsh? She was most definitely not from anywhere near here. Michael had never seen her before. Hell, He had never even heard of someone like her in this long neglected Florida tourist trap and retirement home of a town.

His mind was , it was, oh dear gods of chaos, Who knew what his mind was doing. His thoughts racing, the adrenaline flowing. Poetry burning through him, inside and out. Michael couldn’t decide whether to run, kneel at her feet or to try and kiss her. Gods help him, he wanted to do all three.

*************

“She is the word of power

The beast that devours

A raging storm to drive you to your knees

Now to put an end to this fable,

We’re all gathered at her table,

Though I am just the first course to her feast.”

************

The warning was explicitly clear. In the end, Michael could do nothing. There were many things he wanted to do, that he needed to do. But he was incapable of even forming words to speak. The seconds felt like hours as he stood staring. Desperate for a word, something, anything, to convince her not to leave. Anything to keep her attention focused upon him.

There was nothing he could do or say. Entranced, lost in her eyes, he was mesmerized? Is that the word? What happens when a mouse freezes staring at the snake poised to strike. Why doesn’t the mouse run for it’s life? She placed her hand on his chest, gazing directly into his eyes. Michael realized that she was just as tall as he was. He stood a solid six foot five inches tall, so, she had to be at least six foot one in her bare feet. Certainly someone you could never forget if you caught a glimpse of her. She would haunt your dreams forever.

Was he dreaming? Hah, he must have been dreaming. But no, he did not dream her kiss, or the moonlit madness of her teeth. Groaning drunkenly Michael surrendered to her thirst as she devoured his existence and tasted his heart. When she drew back from her dark embrace, she licked her lips with a twisted mona lisa smile, let go of him and walked away with a languid swagger. She left him as no more than an empty husk tossed into the nights street like so much litter tossed aside by careless tourists.

A church bell rang in the distance. Michael lay there, a crumpled heep. Bereft, longing to follow her. He could not convince his body to move. So there he remained with the after image of her flash burned into his soul. The verse, echoing within in accusation.

He had no idea how long he had lain there. As he clawed his way back into awareness it felt as if there was acid in his veins. His eyes were burning as if made of flames that seared his face and brain as new passions grew finding their form. The hunger, a need, a driving desire to feed in the night. Michael had become a predator. Transformed into an enemy of light, a prince of the night. Michael staggered to his feet with no thoughts other than a thirst, a hunger, a driving need. Laying there sprawled in desolation Michael had learned that darkness has a name, it is his own.

The sounds, so loud so harsh, He could hear heart beats all around him. So many drums pounding out their beats, beckoning, calling to him. As dawn was breaking, Michael was craving, thirsting. A fresh new junkie jonesing for a hit.

Nothing existed, nothing mattered except this need burning through him. A hunger, a thirst. No words could explain the intensity. There remained nothing of the man, Michael Llewis. Nothing human lived behind those burning eyes any longer.

This sense of presence appeared. Michael searched his surroundings. Out of the fading darkness a living flame approached. Michael launched himself into the air. Leaping, acting out of pure predatory instinct. The living flame reacted faster than Michael was capable of tracking. The living flame stepped aside casually snatching Michael out of the air. Something icy cold probed and stabbed at his mind. Flames surrounded him. The living flame forced Michael to his knees and offered it’s wrist. Michael began tearing at the flame shrouded wrist, his teeth morphing as he did so. Drawing deep breaths and lapping at the burning bloody flames.

Then as suddenly as it was offered, the hand withdrew. Michael desperately grasped for it. He began to fight, demanding that sweet nectar of fire.

The living flame subdued and embraced him. Holding him close for a heartbeat it then raised Michael up over it’s head, to hurl him a good thirty feet through the air to smash against the concrete wall. The impact left cracks in the brick work. Michaels shattered body fell limply to the sidewalk to lay there senseless.

The living flames walked away flames fading as it walked. Michael lay trembling, convulsing. Two homeless men, scrambled out of the dumpster they had been sleeping in. They had witnessed everything. They did no more than glance at Michaels body as they fled.

The living flame had been waiting. Both men tried to warn the other as hands of fire grasped them by their throats. Burning hands crushed their larynx. Their struggle was to no avail. The living flames walked back to the cardboard dumpster they had been sleeping in. Then threw them into it, slamming the metal lid and latching it closed. The flames brightened, flickering, then the flames were gone. A shadow remained where fire had walked. A shadow hidden, watching over Michael.

Michael lay there, his new affliction trying to heal his broken body. There was no knitting together the many broken and shattered vertebrae and nearly every one of his major organs. Had he been injured after the transformation was complete, Michaels body would have healed in short order. As it was, Michaels exhausted and depleted body, gave out. He died for the second time there on the sidewalk as the sun crowned the horizon. The living flame, now a cloak of writhing shadows, watched over Michaels form.

A few minutes passed. A tiny, faint flame deep and bitter cold. Gradually the flames faded away. Michael began to twitch, his chest rose and fell. Nodding in silence the living flame withdrew. The plan was now engaged, time to tempt the fates while watching from afar.

In the quiet grey of dawn, Michael sat up. Looking about himself he climbed to his feet. Scanning, seeking prey. Raging hunger and thirst were the only thoughts to his existence.

There was a mother and child , just arriving at the corner bus stop only a few yards from where he stood. Michael Scented them before he turned to see them. There was no thought involved in his actions.

She had only just begun to reflexively tighten her grip on the young girls shoulder when the blur struck her. The speed of the impact carried enough momentum to propel the childs school books completely across the two lane street. To slam with a crack against the building.

There was no one there to see what had happened. Had there been, a watcher would have only seen the woman and child disappear into a blur and school books tumbling through the air.

Michael, arms out spread hit the woman and child at a remarkable speed. He grasped them close to his chest as he swept them up and carried them back down the street and around the corner behind the building into an alleyway. They had moved maybe fifty yards total, in about one and a half heart beats.

Michael opened his arms and the woman and child fell bonelessly to the ground. Michael pounced on the woman, tearing her throat open with his teeth. His canine and incisor teeth extended, doubling in length as he savaged her throat.

The woman, still conscious, stared at the grey morning sky. Tears traced their way from her wide opened eyes. Michael tore and ripped at her throat. Her hands convulsed, her feet kicked. In less than a minute Michael, grasping her cervical vertebrae between his teeth, ripped through them severing her spinal cord.

Leaning back onto his knees, Michael turned to the child laying unconscious on the ground. Lifting the small body he bit into the throat. The child was dead. No heart pumped the blood. Michael snarled and began tearing at the childs chest, ripping his way inside so that he could grasp the small heart.

The mother was forced to watch helplessly. Only a few seconds had passed since her spinal cord had been severed. Tears ran from her eyes, frozen in horror. She watched, she could not close her eyes or turn away. The position her head had fallen into forced her to see. Her dying sight was of Michael chewing into the small heart of her child. She faded into eternity with that vision from hell to haunt her forever.

Snarling ferally Michael leapt to his feet. Choosing a direction randomly, he ran. Forgotten was the Guitar. Left lying on the sidewalk where it had been dropped. The candy apple red B.C. Rich Warlock was an mute witness and testimony to humanity cast aside.

Michael ran through alleys, across parking lots, leaping over fences . He ran until he reached the beach. Without pause the blood and gore encrusted nightmare dove head long into the foaming waves.

The morning was overcast grey with rain clouds moving from the sea. Sheet lightning pulsed ahead of the clouds. Michael emerged from the sea to casually walk along the beach. Thunder rolled across the skies as a soft rain began to fall.

Humming a lilting melody. Michael composed a new lyric as he walked in the morning rain.

A hymn to the Goddess that had blessed him.

*********************

“She came to me in leather,

With hell-hounds at her heels.

This courtesan of death

Black Magick her appeal,

There was evil in her heart

Death lived in her eyes,

Her smile a twist of madness

She held me mesmerized,

Her footsteps rang with power,

She smiles and blasts the Tower

She’s The ten of swords as pretty as you please.

All her word are treason

pure madness in it’s season

She’s An evil dream just waiting for release.

She is the blasted tower,

The beast that devours

A raging storm To drive you to your knees.

She is the word of power

The thirst that devours

Midnights sweet unholy dream.

Now it’s time to end the fable,

as we’re gathered at her table,

I Am just the first course of the feast.

Yes all her words are treason,

sweet madness in it’s season,

She’s the ten of swords as pretty as you please.

A raging storm to drive you to your knees.”

Nodding to himself, tapping out the meter with his finger tips Michael contemplated a chorus. The music has to be in the A harmonic minor scale he decided. The rain had passed over. Now the late morning sun burned hot and bright. Sunglasses! He Definitely needed sunglasses. Michael murmured to himself.