My good friend Junior Davila was inspired by the Tchrite - Phaidon music video to write a fictional short story based on the images presented in the video.
July 24, 2010 by Junior
In my nightmare of nightmares; I was in a stairwell. I looked up and there was no end in sight, like an impossible staircase from an M.C. Escher drawing. It was dark, abysmal. But there was a light that came from nowhere and yet was everywhere. The stairwell was lit in the color of arterial blood. The type that flows from the heart to the body, but this was no body. This was me. This was my prison.
Along with the blood-washed walls, there was a sickly green essence presiding there too; pushing away the blood in a mad attempt to overtake it with its feeling of rot and disgust.
I looked at the step in front of me and there stood a Venetian woman. She was clad in a black corset and dress that frilled at the edges below her knees. She wore a mask, the masquerade type seen at Mardi Gras. But there was something very sinister behind that mask. Her eyes were holes beneath it, endless holes. Rose petals fell around her, shriveling and dying as they passed her on the way to their stairwell grave. Suddenly a brilliant flash, lasting only a split second, revealed her eyes. She was watching me. Her ice-blue eyes bore holes into my soul making it a heap of what it was. In that single instant, she took from me my innocence, my love, my devotions, and all the joys in my world. The Venetian Woman robbed me of everything.
Something pushed me forward, but God help me I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see what lay next.
The Lady in Red flashed a half-step up the stairwell, who was she? She had blonde hair and a cold, callous look. Her detached demeanor flipped a butterfly knife. The knife was for me. My body. She meant to kill me. No, she meant to rip me of my being—my flesh. My soul a husk, she was meant to finish the job….
She disappeared and in her place, a man. The bald-headed man looked down at me as I passed the Venetian woman holding me in her gaze. I passed her but could not make myself look her in the eyes again. I could not look at the very thing that robbed me of everything dear to me. A cold-shiver ran through my spine as the man in the suit, wearing dark sunglasses, licked his lips as I approached him. He quirked a smile. I’m going to fuck you, son. My lead-ened dick is going to fuck you hard. He pulled a chrome-plated gun and pointed it at me, at my face. I could almost feel him winking behind his sunglasses.
As my eyes widened in absolute terror, as this man was about to destroy my sex and rape me of my ego, two forms materialized in front of me. From what felt like my navel, I was pulled again. I followed a man who held up a figure dressed in a white death shroud in front of him, guiding him up the stairs. I passed the man in the suit…he blew me a kiss and I shook again, I’d soon be seeing him again…I was sure of it.
Help me, please someone help me.
A thought occurred to me as I followed the man with the shaggy hair. His subject, the one he’s escorting…it’s me. I didn’t want to believe it, but the thought came anyway. My heart raced as I was realizing that my nightmare was real; I was dying and I was going the place where all bad men go. And here I was following the very thing that was escorting the shroud that I would come to wear when the time came.
As we turned on the level to go up again, I tried to get a look in the hole where the face would be. Instead, the one escorting him turned to me and my blood ran cold. My eyes beheld the most monstrous sight I had ever seen.
It was a creature. From the neck down it was a normal man with a brown shirt and slacks, but from the neck up…
It was a scaly creature with the nose of a buffalo. It had slight protruding horns coming out of the sides of its forehead. Another line of small spikes come down the center of its head from the hairline down to the brows. The scales were colored grey and was given the sickly disgusting flair from the rotting green light that emanated from nowhere, yet everywhere. He looked towards me with black vertical slits for pupils and red iris’; irises that glowed with the sheen of the blood-colored light. He continued to look past me and above my head. There was something calling it…and I was the subject. It continued up the stairs and disappeared with what may have been me; or perhaps that shroud that I would fill.
From in front of me stood a woman’s legs. There was something wrong though. I began to look up. She wore a dress of the old-type, the type that was sown in the historic ages with the rough cloth. I looked further up.
What have I done?
With bulging arms and a protruding chest, it was a muscularly built man. He had blonde pig-tails under a Viking helmet and was splitting his tongue down the middle on the blade of an axe. The axe had a skull adorned on the end of the shaft and another similar blade on the opposite side. A spike came up out of the top and I knew…this trans-gendered Viking was here to make me none; not a man, not a woman, neither. It looked at me with maliciousness, hate, and hunger.
My heart stilled and I understood. I finally understood it all. As I flashed back to where the Lady in Red had stood, she now lay on the level floor dead. It’s making sense to me, now.
Another flash and I saw a piglet sitting atop where the shrouded person disappeared. It had a leash being held by nothing and a television showing that there was no body where the Lady in Red obviously laid. My life, the food for the spit, for the very demons who had come for me to strip me of who I am.
I understand now. I am whole; I am saved. The Lady in Red was sacrificed and the Piglet was put in my place.
With cold sweat pouring between my shoulders and down my face, I wept. The nightmare had been real and the Lady in Red had saved me.
Forgive me, Father; forgive me for I have sinned. The Demon’s of hell have shown me who I am. I am he, no more."