“Beastie, beastie, take heed, our master calls. Hear the horn blow, the jackal howl, the bug, the varmint, the critters from
high, yet low. It is we that must answer, not a second for delay, for if we don’t he’ll surely slay and fillet us on a skew of dinner
for all to relish. We’ll end up on their dinner plate instead being the ones that are there to dine.” The blue, gray creature
turned on its spiny heal, leaped to a rock, looked first left, then right, stretching its neck, struggling to catch a glimpse of the
beast who called to him now. He grunted, breathing out with a hard breath and then in with a low. He was furious, for not
keeping a better watch on the ones who he was responsible for. For every beastie had other beasties of lower stature that
were bought by his sins, more heinous than the ones he called his. This was a simple rule of thumb in these times, the worst of
them were the most rewarded. It was the law of evil and evil was at every turn. This was their prison sentence and they were
here to play it out for all eternity to come.
Beyond the rock he saw that distorted shape of a limb poking out from the trunk of one decayed tree and thought, “I’d
know that leg anywhere. That’s the beast Incubus*, my lowly servant and doer of sordid, black deeds.” He flew, wings flapping
madly, wind rushing off the red, burnt brown feathers, to and fro. He kicked Incubus squarely in his scaly shin. Incubus looked
up in surprise then growled, “What is it?” Asmodeus** now spoke, “Don’t wise mouth me in that tone of growl, you foul creature
of the night. It’s you I own and you I’ll command whenever my needs suit me best. You’ll do my bidding to the letter, and I’ll
curse your fiery filthiness to the bowels that all Hell has to offer.” Incubus felt as he was kicked in the groin, lifting his distortion
of a head to show a grimace of remorse to his master, bending low, and said, “I am sorry, my dark angel. I shall never think
less of you again.” Asmodeus said, “Incubus better not. If he knows what’s best for him. The time is near when my master
demon calls for another task for I to do. One, I think, more nasty than the last. One that, as always, I cannot neglect nor
refuse, for this is our lot and our duty, true black in total, it is not our choice, and thought the tasks are cold and many, it is
what it is, and that’s all it is.” I have been told, by our darkest angel, yes, Beelzebub himself, that, “I am to leach out venom into
a babe as it sleeps and delight in the dreams that will plague him throughout his youth, dreams that will follow him throughout
his entire life and corrupt him to the core and even to the heart, so that he may be led to the depths of our Hell and be another
soul taken and abused, another soul to be damned.”
The two stood ready and knew, without doubt, that this was a deed they could never refuse. For this was the way of their days;
Hell was not a place for choice, but of biding, and loathing, and serving their blackest angel. Beelzebub was the one who held
the Throne.
Asmodeus stood straight and spoke, “Incubus, you are the master of their dreams. You can infiltrate as no other. This is
why I chose you and on you I can rely. Our target is a babe who slumbers in his crib, so soundly in sleep wrapped tight with his
sheets and pillow so soft. Ready your ways to capture the sins of the father and cast them upon the son. Make known in this
babe’s dreams that lust and fancy will display joy and heights that can be gotten no other way. It is through the father’s waking
life with this youth will be guided to the papers of their earth and to lust for yes … His own flesh. The magazines, the news, the
filth that is so plentiful, smut we’ve used before. We know others who were easy to corrupt through these very means and we
will do it again, here as we are commanded.” Asmodeus crouched low and whispered in Incusbus’s ear, “The father Anthony
will play out his part because fact … His sins are far beyond any remorse he’ll ever know. And this son, who’ll for a time will
look up to this man, called father, with an eye and ear of true childhood innocence. But you and you who will choose other
beasts to help you in your cause will take this Richard daily, no hourly, no any and every time the opportunity comes forth. For
I demand that you do no less. You will shut out the Lord good angels and you will bring forth all the demonic creatures here
with. And do it in the most callous and ambitious ways you can think. If I have my cards set up right the choice of you demon is
better than right, I see it as the end of the road for this Richard, before it has begun.” “Now away with you and make haste, for
the time of corruption is on us. The time demanded by Beelzebub.” “Need I say more … I know I do not.”
A mist played low upon the ground and grew out of the shadow of the trees. The mist crawled upon the ground, wrapping
‘round their feet and forming a cloud which shaped between the two. Within the cloud a room appeared, a babe slept soundly,
peaceful for a time. Incubus knew that for now it was his time to take front and center.
Shape shifting is not uncommon for beasts as he. And a favorite shape for these creatures of deep is the slithering
snakes so familiar, so appropriate to this tale. And so he changed and morphed, from the unpleasant sight as he was to one
more unpleasant than the last. What can one say, for an author to a reader, that I wouldn’t dare disappoint with anything than
the norm and not too far away from the things you would expect to go bump in this night. As Incubus wiggled its way into the
cloud and into the room where this babe slept, a cast of creatures followed in delight, eager to add to the task for this night. A
moon shined with an eerie face of its own into the window of the room. Bugs also began to arrive. Ominous demons of lesser
intent took the moment with their own agenda at heart.
What can I say, every one of them are opportunists. Everyone looking to seize the moment, to add to the mood, to create
their own brand of horror, for if you think for one second that these foul creatures would stand and not be counted within this
scene, think again; these are the takers, not givers, unless you count evil and unpleasant thoughts are a gift. Bugs scrambled
over sheets and the babe noticed a tickle and shooed it away and again the legs scurried upon the babe, no mercy here.
“Shoe me away, for certain we’ll pay no mind.” A spider slid on the string it spun out, “I’m here little one, I’m here as a watcher.
All of my eight eyes loving the show, and all eight legs are madly applauding! On with the show! On with the show!” The
mouth of the moon yawned as if it were at Edvard Munch painting. If its voice could be heard from that great distance it would
voice with a howl only a werewolf could appreciate. Spirits lost not to Hell, not to Heaven, but bound for nowhere except their
own confusion of anything around. I guess this is their limbo, drawn by the power of the sins and the demon snake who landed
on the scene. They knew what was up, they felt it and sensed it to their very core. Despite the moment the babe still slept, as
if nothing around could wake him from his slumber. Incubus edged closer and closer still and it was upon him in now ready to
bite. He rose with eyes of bad intent for he knew what was expected of him and he could do no less. And with a lunge he
turned into gray smoke which swirled above the babe and fed into the ear so small and so pure. And the dreams and the
game and the end of what purity there was, is left behind for the sins of the moment. Though this was a babe, the dreams of
lustful times were being planted for a time that would come soon enough. For the years move ever so quickly and the youth
and purity of this day will be held never more.
A trail of smoke left, as it came from the babe’s ear. The babe drew its hand to that ear and scratched as if bitten by a bug
that crawled deep within its opening. And the annoyance passed but the dreams did not. For this was the beginning of a
lifetime of sinning that would confuse and dement and even warp what should have been a peaceful life. But there is no peace
where this child is bound, where these dreams will entertain. There will be sleepless nights coming for this child, tortured by an
imagination that’s not equaled by any other. The fantasies will not be shared, for who would want these thoughts but the doers
themselves. The one who is the sinner, and here begins the tale of he who is: “I. Me. Sinner.”
* Incubus - A demon in male form supposed to lie upon sleepers.
** Asmodeus – One of the most evil of the fallen angels, being an arch demon.
*** Beelzebub – Prince of Demons.
high, yet low. It is we that must answer, not a second for delay, for if we don’t he’ll surely slay and fillet us on a skew of dinner
for all to relish. We’ll end up on their dinner plate instead being the ones that are there to dine.” The blue, gray creature
turned on its spiny heal, leaped to a rock, looked first left, then right, stretching its neck, struggling to catch a glimpse of the
beast who called to him now. He grunted, breathing out with a hard breath and then in with a low. He was furious, for not
keeping a better watch on the ones who he was responsible for. For every beastie had other beasties of lower stature that
were bought by his sins, more heinous than the ones he called his. This was a simple rule of thumb in these times, the worst of
them were the most rewarded. It was the law of evil and evil was at every turn. This was their prison sentence and they were
here to play it out for all eternity to come.
Beyond the rock he saw that distorted shape of a limb poking out from the trunk of one decayed tree and thought, “I’d
know that leg anywhere. That’s the beast Incubus*, my lowly servant and doer of sordid, black deeds.” He flew, wings flapping
madly, wind rushing off the red, burnt brown feathers, to and fro. He kicked Incubus squarely in his scaly shin. Incubus looked
up in surprise then growled, “What is it?” Asmodeus** now spoke, “Don’t wise mouth me in that tone of growl, you foul creature
of the night. It’s you I own and you I’ll command whenever my needs suit me best. You’ll do my bidding to the letter, and I’ll
curse your fiery filthiness to the bowels that all Hell has to offer.” Incubus felt as he was kicked in the groin, lifting his distortion
of a head to show a grimace of remorse to his master, bending low, and said, “I am sorry, my dark angel. I shall never think
less of you again.” Asmodeus said, “Incubus better not. If he knows what’s best for him. The time is near when my master
demon calls for another task for I to do. One, I think, more nasty than the last. One that, as always, I cannot neglect nor
refuse, for this is our lot and our duty, true black in total, it is not our choice, and thought the tasks are cold and many, it is
what it is, and that’s all it is.” I have been told, by our darkest angel, yes, Beelzebub himself, that, “I am to leach out venom into
a babe as it sleeps and delight in the dreams that will plague him throughout his youth, dreams that will follow him throughout
his entire life and corrupt him to the core and even to the heart, so that he may be led to the depths of our Hell and be another
soul taken and abused, another soul to be damned.”
The two stood ready and knew, without doubt, that this was a deed they could never refuse. For this was the way of their days;
Hell was not a place for choice, but of biding, and loathing, and serving their blackest angel. Beelzebub was the one who held
the Throne.
Asmodeus stood straight and spoke, “Incubus, you are the master of their dreams. You can infiltrate as no other. This is
why I chose you and on you I can rely. Our target is a babe who slumbers in his crib, so soundly in sleep wrapped tight with his
sheets and pillow so soft. Ready your ways to capture the sins of the father and cast them upon the son. Make known in this
babe’s dreams that lust and fancy will display joy and heights that can be gotten no other way. It is through the father’s waking
life with this youth will be guided to the papers of their earth and to lust for yes … His own flesh. The magazines, the news, the
filth that is so plentiful, smut we’ve used before. We know others who were easy to corrupt through these very means and we
will do it again, here as we are commanded.” Asmodeus crouched low and whispered in Incusbus’s ear, “The father Anthony
will play out his part because fact … His sins are far beyond any remorse he’ll ever know. And this son, who’ll for a time will
look up to this man, called father, with an eye and ear of true childhood innocence. But you and you who will choose other
beasts to help you in your cause will take this Richard daily, no hourly, no any and every time the opportunity comes forth. For
I demand that you do no less. You will shut out the Lord good angels and you will bring forth all the demonic creatures here
with. And do it in the most callous and ambitious ways you can think. If I have my cards set up right the choice of you demon is
better than right, I see it as the end of the road for this Richard, before it has begun.” “Now away with you and make haste, for
the time of corruption is on us. The time demanded by Beelzebub.” “Need I say more … I know I do not.”
A mist played low upon the ground and grew out of the shadow of the trees. The mist crawled upon the ground, wrapping
‘round their feet and forming a cloud which shaped between the two. Within the cloud a room appeared, a babe slept soundly,
peaceful for a time. Incubus knew that for now it was his time to take front and center.
Shape shifting is not uncommon for beasts as he. And a favorite shape for these creatures of deep is the slithering
snakes so familiar, so appropriate to this tale. And so he changed and morphed, from the unpleasant sight as he was to one
more unpleasant than the last. What can one say, for an author to a reader, that I wouldn’t dare disappoint with anything than
the norm and not too far away from the things you would expect to go bump in this night. As Incubus wiggled its way into the
cloud and into the room where this babe slept, a cast of creatures followed in delight, eager to add to the task for this night. A
moon shined with an eerie face of its own into the window of the room. Bugs also began to arrive. Ominous demons of lesser
intent took the moment with their own agenda at heart.
What can I say, every one of them are opportunists. Everyone looking to seize the moment, to add to the mood, to create
their own brand of horror, for if you think for one second that these foul creatures would stand and not be counted within this
scene, think again; these are the takers, not givers, unless you count evil and unpleasant thoughts are a gift. Bugs scrambled
over sheets and the babe noticed a tickle and shooed it away and again the legs scurried upon the babe, no mercy here.
“Shoe me away, for certain we’ll pay no mind.” A spider slid on the string it spun out, “I’m here little one, I’m here as a watcher.
All of my eight eyes loving the show, and all eight legs are madly applauding! On with the show! On with the show!” The
mouth of the moon yawned as if it were at Edvard Munch painting. If its voice could be heard from that great distance it would
voice with a howl only a werewolf could appreciate. Spirits lost not to Hell, not to Heaven, but bound for nowhere except their
own confusion of anything around. I guess this is their limbo, drawn by the power of the sins and the demon snake who landed
on the scene. They knew what was up, they felt it and sensed it to their very core. Despite the moment the babe still slept, as
if nothing around could wake him from his slumber. Incubus edged closer and closer still and it was upon him in now ready to
bite. He rose with eyes of bad intent for he knew what was expected of him and he could do no less. And with a lunge he
turned into gray smoke which swirled above the babe and fed into the ear so small and so pure. And the dreams and the
game and the end of what purity there was, is left behind for the sins of the moment. Though this was a babe, the dreams of
lustful times were being planted for a time that would come soon enough. For the years move ever so quickly and the youth
and purity of this day will be held never more.
A trail of smoke left, as it came from the babe’s ear. The babe drew its hand to that ear and scratched as if bitten by a bug
that crawled deep within its opening. And the annoyance passed but the dreams did not. For this was the beginning of a
lifetime of sinning that would confuse and dement and even warp what should have been a peaceful life. But there is no peace
where this child is bound, where these dreams will entertain. There will be sleepless nights coming for this child, tortured by an
imagination that’s not equaled by any other. The fantasies will not be shared, for who would want these thoughts but the doers
themselves. The one who is the sinner, and here begins the tale of he who is: “I. Me. Sinner.”
* Incubus - A demon in male form supposed to lie upon sleepers.
** Asmodeus – One of the most evil of the fallen angels, being an arch demon.
*** Beelzebub – Prince of Demons.
| I. Me. Sinner. Chapter 1 A babe asleep comes beast from deep. |
| Sleep soundly child, the day grows near, a day worth living, without a fear. The fear not known, of things around, of beastie monsters from deep dark ground. You play and jump and laugh and giggle, but soon you’ll cry from things that wriggle, from things that bump that squirm and gloat here’s child we damage and so it’s wrote. Words written long and far away, by creatures damned by things they’d say. A book so black and tortured blue, the souls of fathers, yes mothers, too. With ink that’s red, then gray as night, of tortures deep, not done in light. The words go down black ink, black page, the black heart reads the words of age. First spoken low to those around, who listen fervent not with a sound. Then read most loud for all to hear, “I am the reader; come bring your ear.” I say, “Come listen and do relate.” “I’m beastie monster, the King of fate.” “Who’ll teach you ways to curse them all.” “To make him lust though he is small.” This King of beasties from deep black ground, Who teaches words from books not found. By man, by God, by anyone He claims he’s King, just like the Son. The Son of God who came to save We sinners all rose from the grave. But this is story of child most blue And not of God Head whitest hue. So now our tale begins with lust, A sin most evil swept from the dust. From dust and dirt the creatures came, taught by their father of, black domain. Turn up the sheet behold the beast, Who’ll scare you shitless and smile as creep. The bugs they roam and walk so free Up walls, they’ll crawl as body sleeps. Outside the moon with wide mouth drawn, With shape so twisted in deadly yawn. Like paintings done of fear in night, it beacons heartbeat of child’s fright. Now come the child who sleeps so tight it’s time to enter this place of fright. A world that’s shiny, who can refuse, its draw to heart you’ll love though lose. |
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of my book, still in the production stages of
development. Alyce, my editor and I are up to chapter 7 and I have most of the
illustrations complete, for the book. This chapter 1 is only a teaser trailer, of all there is to
come. Which is 27 chapters in total, and only a few more illustrations left to draw. Oh
and the cover art, that's also in the mix.
Before its publication, I may choose to let a few more of the illustrations come out of the
bag ... Chapter 2? But the rest, you'll just have to wait for the book to come out. Or the
online publication. Which ever it is, I promise I won't let your spirits down, nor your
imagination, nor what ever else there is that makes you tick, spark, or delight in.
Now, you can either go back to the index and check out some of the illustrations already
up for preview, or go back to the newsletter and the other things I have to offer.
Rich Cacioppo signing off for now.
development. Alyce, my editor and I are up to chapter 7 and I have most of the
illustrations complete, for the book. This chapter 1 is only a teaser trailer, of all there is to
come. Which is 27 chapters in total, and only a few more illustrations left to draw. Oh
and the cover art, that's also in the mix.
Before its publication, I may choose to let a few more of the illustrations come out of the
bag ... Chapter 2? But the rest, you'll just have to wait for the book to come out. Or the
online publication. Which ever it is, I promise I won't let your spirits down, nor your
imagination, nor what ever else there is that makes you tick, spark, or delight in.
Now, you can either go back to the index and check out some of the illustrations already
up for preview, or go back to the newsletter and the other things I have to offer.
Rich Cacioppo signing off for now.
the mad monster maker.