Demons wail in the chapel of Hell

I stood on the tracks exasperated and unable to move. Though a decision had to be made,
I refused to budge. Only a train could move me now I thought, and it was now or never.
As I began to vacillate, John called out to me from a distance, and I reluctantly began to
advance toward him disregarding the signal from my brain, which was telling me to stop.
Louder and louder it became, this woeful sound which completely blew my head, and that
sound was music. It wasn't olde tyme music with a carnival atmosphere, or a barbershop
quartet performing wayside. Never would I hear such melodies, thrilling my heart and filling
my soul with passion! That ticket was taken from me for the age had long since passed and
the present had descended upon me like a plague. The 1890's were diminishing at an incredible
rate and like an exploding star in the firmament of Heaven, it was gone. I felt miserable and I
felt cheated, for I was now the locust born out of season; the writer with no hands. As I wracked
my brain to try and make that music stop, I found it was a futile attempt. With each step I took,
I grew more and more disparaged. Like being prodded off the highest of high boards, there was no
escape. As the music became audible to my ears, I was now able to hear some of the words which
were being communicated unto me from the foul fiend. "I'm going off the rails on a crazy train"
Of all the songs in the world, why does this have to be the one playing now? I asked myself in despair.
I didn't understand it, but realized it had something to do with the chain of events that would follow.

✹ Why couldn't Boeing Duveen and The Beautiful Soup, be allowed to grace the airwaves with
that insidious Lewis Carroll poem of utter madness entitled, Jabberwock? Better still, Faine Jade,
serenade us with their untouchable classic, Introspection? Then not only would I be able to relate
to it, but I would be in psychedelic heaven as well! Even more so I might add, Lollipop minds by
Wimple Winch! That song has enough acid in it to send even the most advanced hippies into
a love induced coma, but I simply adore it. It is who I am. ✹

My mind was now full of bitterness and loathing. The evil had set in and the devil
worshipers were out in droves, whilst I, just wanted to get past this station intact.



How many of them were there, and what was going to happen to us? Were they going
to pelt us with bottles? Shout names at us? Spit on us? Throw awful bags of shit on us?
I honestly did not know what to expect! As we slowly drifted pass the Annadale station,
it seems I had created the whole scenario in my mind. I was anticipating a scene like the
Turnbull AC's packing the station with pipes in hand, ready to begin the unthinkable,
but instead, it turned out to be just the opposite!

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There was an old man standing next to a raggy teenager who was rather demure in stature.
What a relief, I thought as I approached the station. Roughly five feet away stood the old man,
and as he inhaled that cigarette, he looked as though he were in Heaven! There was less than a puff
left, but this old fellow smoked that beloved cigarette right down to the very cough! It appeared to
me as though he were trying to invoke lung cancer as he sucked on that crackling filter which emitted
those crude toxins that made his eyes all runny. God I thought, that must be like smoking insulation!



I was relieved in a sense that we weren't going to get jumped and clubbed to death like three
poor defenseless seals, but yet, there was still a part of me wading in despair. I saw the metal
sign bearing the name of the stations stop and noticed that it had been defaced by vandals.
The sign read in close approximating letters, BANANNADALE. It seems you can't escape
the degradation of a certain town, for it is in its own infrastructure, that it is the way it is.
To be perfectly honest, it looked like a legitimate sign posted by Staten Island Rapid Transit!
For the life of me, I could not differentiate between the two.

I then cast my mind to moments earlier and wondered, if I was still back in happy-time mode.
Had my train not been derailed by Ozzy Ozbourne. If I was still beaming and filled with good
cheer, the words on the sign post might have been interpreted quite differently, but who's to
say now? In my head, I had actually begun to see myself as a turn of the century gentleman
with nobility and honor. Projecting myself in thought, I had begun to feel and experience those
very emotions, as though they were somehow relevant. In that moment of my disillusionment,
these feelings were thought to be the very backbone of life itself, and if all had gone well, the
rest of the night would have been as jam. I smiled to myself and disregarded the whole mess,
for I truly believed in the confines of my own heart that it was an unforeseeable disaster.

As we walked further past the station, the music soon diminished and was gone. Pete wanted
no part of anyone or anything as he continued to walk thirty feet ahead of us, as if he were
encased in his own world. Moving ever forward in a tenaciously diligent manner, that stark figure
looked as though he would consume the night. Looking back only to study our advancement,
he switched to an even faster pace, while grimacing like Beelzebub burning with rage!

Happiness for sadness Peter would not barter, and so
he fed the fires of rage with a glowing red shovel of coal
and a cantankerous spirit that irked with grief.

Ay Pete, John called out! "See Charles, Pete don't care about us. Why is he doing this?"
Just ignore him, I said. Peter's blatant lack of decorum was no shock to my senses for he
needed to be high too. As we continued on, John was becoming exceedingly loquacious
and all this commotion was beginning to gnaw at me. He was now putting his hand on my
shoulder, slowing me down. So languid was I in this state that I bellowed aloud!!!

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It felt as though we were walking on a treadmill, and the anxiety I was currently experiencing
was very similar to that of walking in a dream. Where instead of going forward, I was going
slowly in reverse. No matter how focused I was or how optimistic I became, it just felt like
I wasn't getting anywhere. At this particular point in time, my mind and body have become
effete, as if every ounce of energy had been drained from me. I was so hot, and now, oh
so weak. I felt as though I had not eaten in almost a year, and there within my stomach lay
a starving child. I knew right then and there how it felt to be hungry. Where the tormented
cries become a yearning that no one, nor nothing can satisfy. To be so withdrawn and
exhausted from stress that anything offered to me could not placate my needs nor pacify
my insatiable groans. How we can take advantage of something as dire as a piece of bread
or a grain of rice was now astounding to me. Where one person starves to death and dies,
another throws food out the window.



I thought of all this as I continued moving toward an unknown destination. I was beginning to
feel like that head in my doctor's office. The one with all the emotions unfurled like a map! I had
also found these drawings to be fascinating as well. Drawings as stated in Ferrier's experiments
of 1876, or anything by Dr. Alesha Sivartha. Right about now, all these little areas in my brain
must have been flashing around like police sirens! I was so tired of listening to other people.
Their ideas and what they deemed right for me! Everything was school, but school was a prison
of the infirmed. No, the erudite wisdom of fools would not be imputed unto me. Turn your head
when I need a hand and teach me what I cannot learn. Spit upon me when I fail and then cast me
in the river. I'll take my chances with the nomads and the dogs.

In the beginning, I had more than anyone. I never took it for granted, and I always gave
thanks for it. After losing it, I hardened my heart. In fact, I became quite bitter. No longer
would I demonstrate a propensity to excel at anything and no matter how hard I tried, when
I did feel like trying, I could not concentrate on things I put my mind to. It was almost as
if I was drifting off into space, even in pleasant conversation. I tried to study on my own time,
but there were too many distractions for I had developed a compulsion disorder. If I had to
look one word up in the dictionary, then I was in it for hours learning and studying new
words. I only went to school because it was required of me, and because I needed to obtain
a high school diploma. In my family, not having one was simply insupportable.

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So here I am once again, analyzing the winds of time in a bad dream, while trying to gain a higher
understanding of a world I am  unsure of. I needed to get in touch with my emotions and find out
what it was, that I was, so hopped on the roller coaster with no rails and began my ascent toward
Heaven. Why is it that not only I, but the rest of today's society refuses to comprehend the deleterious
effect a drug can have on them, until they're halfway in the blender? Then it becomes a desperate
struggle not to lose what we so carelessly and haphazardly threw into the wind.

It's funny how you don't think about it until it's too late, and by that time you're plummeting hopelessly
toward the ground. Then the only one who can save you is the one divine, who seems to exist solely
on paper. And even then, we can't make time for him on a Sunday. Why do you put up with us,
oh Lord? I thought silently to myself as I walked without reason or being.

I took that road because I needed a little adventure. I wanted to animate my surroundings and
dive in, leaving this troubled world behind. Life was getting a wee bit drab in this humdrum
world of ever the same, but now it's gone ahead of itself, and I am left to play the game alone.
How could doing anything like this help me to become anything at all? I was playing Russian
roulette with my life and every minute that went by seemed to be plunging me deeper and deeper
in despair. I felt like I was at a very critical stage in my consciousness. That every decision made
would not only impact this world, but the world that comes after. Indeed, I had come to a turning
point. I knew that I needed to make certain changes, but I needed to apply them to my world!
Again, I was thinking of how foolish I was for chancing everything and the punishment I was going
to receive from God, should anything go wrong tonight. "There are no more excuses which can
be made for they will not be heard." And now I am despairing over that quandary!

These conflicting emotions and that terrible burden, all spiraling into a chasm of certain doom.



I thought of that mind bending music I listen to everyday and began to think of myself as an
advocate of drug use. "I am no damn advocate of anything!" I screamed at this damaged brain,
as though he were attempting to betray me in front of the creator himself! "You are the great
betrayer, not I!!!" I stood screaming, while pointing my finger at that contemptuous wall of
thought. "You should be trying to make me feel better, not condemning me to Hell, you immoral
monstrosity! I just enjoy the peacefulness of the music!" I retorted. This silent battle I was having
in my head was beginning to widen in scope. "Yes, you do enjoy the music" said the evil one
stepping forth from the shadows, "but at the expense of how many innocent lives?"

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God, I am a terrible person, I thought as I turned my back on him, giving me just enough
time to do that which needed to be done. I swiftly unsheathed my sword and swung it with
fervor to sever the evil beast's head! The bloody helmet fell to the ground leaving a trickle
of blood spatter, but not before the arterial spray covered my face and chest. Was I wearing
no clothes? That should hardly matter from where I stood. Victorious in triumph!



"For the Lord God!" I screamed out, like a gladiator while gripping tightly that severed
head by its filthy knotted hair! Just then that black moldy wall was cranked down into the
earth and the meadow came alive with green grass and flowers! Damn-it, I forgot to get
rid of the head! Just then it exploded, where I found myself walking.

I was not a terrible person. I was merely a victim of the changing times. Think positive,
said the raspberry leprechaun in the chapel of Hell where demons wail. Think positive and
we shall get through this together! Suddenly, the rails seemed to shimmer strangely in the
light of the moon, and I could almost feel a strange vibration coming down the tracks behind
me. I turned around to see a white light shining in my direction. It was moving frame by frame
like that of a projector when its plug is mistakenly pulled. It came to rest at the station's platform
and I could see it was taking its time. Like a bull who waits to charge, it just stayed there. Then
without warning it began to move; gaining momentum by rolling on its wheels toward me! The light
seemed to have more composition to it now, than it did before, and began to resemble a rather large
glaring eye peering through the distance at me. We left the tracks to go down a wooded incline
where we waited with eyes closed tight for that transmundane serpent to pass.

The size of a mouse it may have very well been, but it wouldn't be that small for long! The closer
it came, the louder it got, until it was almost upon us! Then like a massive mechanical monster,
it roared by and seemed to be infuriated by our presence here! "Boy is that thing pissed,"
I said aloud! No one heard me because the sound it made was deafening.



It moved like a steel snake with a stiff neck on a very bad day. I dared not
think about where it was going for that was too creepy! I then watched it
slither away into the ever brooding darkness.

It was truly man's goodwill to create all these contraptions to take one hitherto,
but he inadvertently forgot one thing whilst on his way to glory.



And that is if you make life a little too easy,
it then becomes more complicated for those who have to live it,
and thus, the very first problem began.

So now we're all stuck in somebody else's problem,
and we can't dwell upon it because we're too high.

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Reviews for chapter 24

Kenneth Norowitz - Magnificent!

Paola Morales - You have a very vivid imagination!

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PG 114) Nightwalkers by David Wright

PG 115) Lucky Strike cigarette advertisement from the 1940's

PG 116) Don't waste food by The United States Food Administration

PG 117) Cryoclasm by Zoltan Boros & Gabor Szikszai

PG 118) Dragon's pleasure by Jacek Yerka

PG 118) Aquarius by Jacek Yerka