19/3/2016
I remember this one because not only was the dream itself really scary but it happened around the time that I had read 'The Raven' on repeat about 10 times in one day. As I was writing it down in the middle of the night, I also remember really going for the gothic horror style and when I awoke again the next morning and read it, it made me smile.
Victorian urban mythology tells of a beautifully flighty nymph, black as a soulless pit sky in winter, no larger than a sweeps charred fist, thrice as nimble. It cuts through the choked veins of London’s smog filled back alleys, lit only by apprehensive, grey, smeary streaks from indifferent gaslight, dancing to the eerie percussion of hooves and urban decay.
A drunken, unkempt pair stumble from a drinking hole into the stinking gutter outside, collapsing under the weight of drink and the heavy thick London air.
Untangling themselves they arise and toss vile insults at one another as they shuffle off into the night.
Rounding a tight bend in the implausibly designed streets and under a carriageway the guttersnipe appears.
It danced before the men as they tripped over the uneven cobblestones underfoot, intoxicated by the stench of the filthy pair and drank in their fear, for they knew what it was and it was present for them, or more specifically, their souls. Terror stretched itself over the oily faces of the men as they attempted a scream but it was too late, the guttersnipe struck and the men were dead before their sweet, fragrant, arterial lifeblood was vomited over the cobbles, black and sticky in the gaslit haze.
Unseen in the shadows, two small bloodshot eyes peered through the smog from behind a discarded crate, the only witness to the ill fated pair’s final moments. The boy looked on in stunned horror as the remaining blood was disgorged a few yards from his hidden vantage point. Fear kept the boy alive in that moment and it was fear that rooted him in silence as the guttersnipe revealed itself in the half shadows, it’s treacherous work complete. Because, if you looked close enough and for long enough, the deceit is revealed as the fishing line catches a feint flickering highlight from above and what was once an inexplicable fiendish demon from beyond hell is decloaked, mere deception and illusion. A trick of distraction for just another common, brutal murder as the filthy streets of London claim two more souls in the night.
Tom, for that was his name, wasn’t sure if the guttersnipes owner witnessed his slow, silent retreat into a neighbouring alley but as the distance from the brutal slaughter increased and the chill of the night closed in around him once more his mind began to race with possibilities.
© 2020 David Garvin
Comentarios