Poveste

His hands were gripping the bottle tight as he was gazing at thecolorful and animated screen before him. The characters displayed, smalland markedly round ,unidentified animals, seemed to be a mockery ofhuman existence. Of his own existence. His mind was probably wanderingthrough a cemetery of love affairs, sighs and women with warmthighs. However, he was earthbound enough to notice the dancing green rabbits, orperhaps jaguars. He couldn't tell. Another thing he could have never realizedwas the terrible warning the ambiguous beings were sending tohumanity. For he himself was humanity in its utter love for mediocrity and dullcontemplation. He took another sip of wine and lit one of those foulsmelling cigarettes, reaching for the exit of the cemetery. It was enough forone evening. Disabling the "mute" function of the TV, the man burst intolaughter. The creatures were singing and their words of undying lovewere spreading through the smoke. In a peculiar way, his smell suddenlybecame sharp. The sweat and old perfume scent invaded his nostrils as hecould see that he never actually reached the gate of the graveyard. Therevelation that the gate was going to be out of his reach for eternitymade him tremble in fear and regret. In the stillness of rotten memoriesthere was one ghoul that kept wrapping him in her dry hair. Despite the strands cutting through his skin causing massive blood loss, the mannever glimpsed at the undead's face. He would not see, not hear, not touch. Herefused ,choosing to have an attempt to crawl beneath the sterileearth. The repetitive song of the animals was altering the wine flowingthrough his veins. It seemed to get louder and louder, almost commanding thesmoke into familiar shapes. Dizziness was slowly turning his bodynumb. The decaying hair was shutting his eye-lids. He couldn't have guessed itcould penetrate ground. The man chose not to scream in fear or pain, butto stop digging in hope that the ghoul would not sense his breath andshe would angrily return to her grave. But the sharp pain he could feelin his fingers told him that the undead was expecting just that. Shewas slowly dragging him above. The song had stopped, as the creatures knewthere was nobody out there to dance. The only thing left was an earpiercing silence. The man was desperately gripping her hair. He thought thatthe ghoul would force him to wake up from the labyrinth of funerarystones and thoughts. Split black ends were already making way through hisflesh. He finally screamed as loud as he could. The sounds turned thesight of dead trees and forgotten graves into bleak. Stillness was theultimate ruler of his surroundings. For one moment he could have sworn hewas at the center of Cosmos. But the battle drums he could hear were asign that he was not alone. There was also sound. The feeling ofdisintegration made him call for other beings. He felt as if a thousand winds weretearing his flesh to pieces. The sound shifted into anthropomorphousfigures. As he rose ,a woman was standing before him. Her face seemedquite familiar as it was smiling compassionate. He knew there were otherbeings behind her that would not dare come close. All he could see wereethereal shapes radiating a sound the man could associate with the colorblack. Through his darkened eyesight ,the man saw the woman trying tospeak. He then recognized the ever so familiar wrathful countenance:"For the death of one thousand archangels and for the birth of onebillion demons, you are damned to an eternity of non-existence."Sweat was dripping from the man's brow. The frenetic body dance hadstopped and warm, humid hands were tightly gripping his arms. His seed was now in her womb and her gaze instantly told him that her orgasm was satisfying enough. The woman rose and unintentionally whipped the man's face with her black dry hair, leaving thin reddish lines on his cheeks. Regaining his senses, he could hear a song about undying forgiveness.