"Get down on the black flame!"....Was I dreaming again? A voice was shouting, but I couldn't see its origin. "Get down on the black flame!"...The voice sounded strangely familar, but I couldn't recall whose voice it was. "Get down on the black flame, the black flame burning in your soul!" The ground disappeared, and suddenly I found myself falling. I looked down, and saw what appeared to be a large mass of people writhing amongst themselves, their naked flesh clothed only in the dark shadow their skin appear pitch-black, like oil, or a starless night. As I got closer, I realised they weren't people, but flames flickering and dancing below me. Like ernormous black tongues licking the crisp air between me and them, anxious to taste my flesh, straining to find any hint of me in the air. What right had the air to be so crisp, so cold, with such massive fiery tongues anxiously awaiting my flesh just below, and mere seconds away from having their lust satisfied? I landed. The flames caught me, enveloping my body, preventing me from hitting the ground(almost as if they were alive). I lay there, floating, surrounded on all sides by the black flames. My flesh was unharmed, even as the flames continued to tighten around my body. Physically, I felt as if the flames were not of fire, but of ice. I was burning though. My flesh felt fine, but I felt like I was burning from the inside out. The flames bypassed my body, and went straight for the spirit or soul that lay within. I tried to scream, but when I opened my mouth all that came out was a long black, fiery tendril, twiesting it's way out of my mouth, carving it's way through the icy air above my face. It curled inwards, then suddenly branched in two, each of the tendrils quickly making their way through my nostrils until the entire scream had found its way back inside me again, to work once more on tearing apart my soul. After what felt like an eternity, the pain stopped. I looked at my hands, to see if there was still black flame on them. Both my hands were entirely black, as if the composition of my skin had been altered. I turned my hands over to look at my palms, and was jolted upright by what I saw: a pair of eyes now stared unblinkingly back at me, one on each palm. The pupils of the eyes were huge, almost covering the entire colour of each, which regardless remained distinct-one was blue, the other green. When I sat upright, I found myself no longer floating. The flames losed their grasp of me, and I fell to the cold stone floor below. I stood up, still staring at the absurdity that was the eyes on my hands. Feeling sick, I lowered my hands and clenched my fists. I looked towards the sky, to move my attention somewherre else, and noticed there was nothing above. Nothing to be seen, just a lot of dark. Where had I fallen from? More importantly(perhaps), where was I now? Realising I had no idea where I was, or why I was there, I frantically looked all around me. Darl, as far as the eye could see. Black flames dancing on into eternity, and darkness hiding anything else there was, if there was anything else. I slowly spun myself around, squinting as I turned, struggling to make out anything in the distance. As I returned to my starting point, I let out a gasp. A man, late-thirties to mid-forties, entirely clean-shaven head, face wrapped up in lines of worry, stood staring at me. Furrows on his forehead curled inwards and upwards, deep creases, the high-ways and bi-ways on the tell-tale emotional road-map that was his face. His lips, impossible in the darkness to tell if they were dark red or light blue, curved downwards ever so slightly, a subtle yet very clear frown. His face was hidden in darkness, shadows merging with the bags under his eyes. Below his lips, and out slightly to the sides, two shallow clefts followed the curvature of his frowning face. His frowning face...it seemed set in stone. What else could he do but frown? Statue-like, his features hadn't moved at all since I first saw him, which could have been anything between seconds and hours ago. Time had no meaning here. Time has no meaning anywhere, this place was just honest about this. The shadows made him appear so dark, he might as well have been stone. I heard singing behind me. Turning quickly, I found a little girl, skipping and singing. I tried to listen to her skipping song, but the words became mixed up before they reached my ears. Some of them teased me, remaining seperate until just before I heard them, then quickly dissolved into each other. I was comforted by her prescence, at least she was moving, and her voice, although unintelligible, was the first I'd heard since I'd reached this place. Suddenly a loud and extremely painful shrieking rang out. Turning again, I found the tortorous noise was coming from both my left and my right. Two emaciated figures stood both sides of me, grey rags hanging from flesh that hung from all too defined bones. Open mouths clung to faces that sagged in on themselves, their skeletal bodies struggling to keep themselves upright. At first it seemed their eyes were just withdrawn and sullen, but it soon became clear that it was not streams of shadow pouring down their faces, but streams of blood, crawling it's way through the wrinkled passages on their weathered faces. Each of the two figures had emptied eye-sockets, freshly made so it would seem fro mthe amount of blood that was pouring out. They both had their hands cupped at their solar plexus. Synchronised, they both removed one hand from above the other, placing it underneath, revealing a gruesome treasure. Resting in each of their hands was an eyeball, blood still slowly dripping, the various nerves and blood vessels hanging idly, limply over the wrist. Their shrieking grew louder, and soon it was joined by the shrieking of the little girl, who had stopped her singing to begin her banshee like piercing cry. The noise became so loud, unbearable, I started to feel dizzy. Awash in a sea of terrible shrieking, drowning in the horrible noise. My brain began throb, feeling ready to explode at any second. Uncontollably I began to spin, my hands claspedtightly over my ears. I felt worse as I spun, the images of my four tormentors penetrating and torturing my mind even further, but I couldn't stop. The noise had grasped me, and was now violently spinning me. I could feel a tension building, and suddenly before it became too much I stopped spinning and thrust arms outwards in an act of defiance, forming a cross with my body. I remained like this for God knows how long, eyes closed, head facing downwards, breathing slowly and heavily. Slowly it dawned on me that all was silence. Tentatively I raised my gaze and found I had stopped spinning with my arms pointed towards the two eyeless figures. I noticed the figure on my left was holding a green eyeball, the figure on my right a blue one. I lowered my arms to my sides, angling my palms inwards and upwards, and saw the eye that had grown on my left hand was green, and the one on my right was blue. The little girl had stopped her skipping. Suddenly everything went completely dark, and all I could see was the Frowning Man. He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he spoke. "Get down on the black flame!" His voice was deep, so commanding and authoriative . "Get down on the black flame!" A shiver went down my spine. "Get down on the black flame...", here he paused, but only for a second, "the black flame burning in your soul!" With this the black fire twisting aand twirling around my feet suddenly erupted upwards, and engulfed me entirely. All I knew then was the black flame, the black flame burning in my soul.
Wow do you like Laurie Anderson? that was great and intensely focused like a laurie anderson trip - you will not have to practice mush to perfect that but look have a look on youtube at how Laurie Anderson delivers her work live rather than written - please stay in this writers forum and keep me entertained - Love your work !! Just like your work, there are two levels at least to it ! deep stuff hmm privaledged to have seen it please write another just incase you dont know laurie anderson here she is ! look she often uses vocoders to make her voice strangely familiar https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DQNNhylhQ0 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SirOxIeuNDE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hhm0NHhCBg&mode=related&search= https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FNbqCTQVKQ&mode=related&search=
Kether, welcome to the forum. Let me assure you that it is not very often, indeed I can never recall a single time, when Ronald has been impressed with a new writer. On that principle alone your work must mean something. For my personal taste it was a bit too cluttered, and surreal (a bit like HP Lovecraft on acid). Neverheless it was well written and had a certain dark poetic fluidity, which you should develop even more, as it is your strong point.
I'd never heard of Laurie Anderson before, but I've watched the links, and am now looking at whatever else is on Youtube. She's amazing! Like Leonard Cohen on Acid! This is good, because all my friends are sicking of me constantly quoting and referencing Bill Hicks, so she's my new obsession. Thanks Ronald, probably the best response I've ever gotten online for anything I've ever written(Says more about my work than your response maybe...). Appreciate the comments WS, my work tends to be cluttered, I'm too lazy to work on cleaning it up, rarely ever doing drafts, just vomiting on a page and calling it a finished piece(as all good English students do when faced with an exam where essays are needed). Thanks guys!
please try to stay here and post more - white scorpion is right - takes a lot for me to say anything that isnt mocking - but thats the way I am - I think people praise too many mediochre talents, but if you can write like this - you just got to look now at ways of delivering it - its not just the thought that counts its the style LOVE IT ! damn I may start posting my own stuff again you have inspired me! but the deeper stuff in me
I'll definitely post more of my writing later, and take a look at your guys work later. Only one problem...I haven't written anything in ages, and have basically put up the only two things I've done in ages on the boards already, but the response is definitely making me want to write again. I'd rather get critical commentary(something I'm terrible at giving...go figure) than "OMG! I luv this story! It's really, really...good", but I'd rather get a response like this than either of the above. Yay!
