The Crow’s Harvest

It was well past midnight as I lay awake,

unable to sleep,

for the tenth night in a row,

deep within this cold, bare, lonesome room.

I stared up at my ceiling,

fixated upon the wooden patterns imbedded into the concrete,

lit by the hazy, dehydrated piss yellow hue

of the night light;

watched the wood rings and lines swirl,

converge,

divorce

into,

unto,

and away

from one another

over and over and over again,

all over a still landscape.

Finally,

my eyes began to feel the weight

of my exhaustion;

closed,

slowly opening again,

closing once more,

open,

closed,

open,

closed,

staying closed –

bringing the promise of a gift,

the present of sleep.

Praise the heavens –

hallelujah,

hallelujah,

hallelujah!

My body and mind can finally rest…

But

then

my

eyes

sprang

open

as

my

ears

burned

with

the

sound

of

a

monotonous

high-pitched

screeching,

(THIS)

a

constant

wail,

a

whistle

of

Hell,

a

shrieking

drone

of

unrelenting

audio,

that drove

tears

from

my

eyes

and

blurred

my

vision;

the

noise

was

disturbingly

clear.

 I leapt out of my coffin-like bed,

shaking the cobwebs of my failed slumber,

and proceeded towards the door,

seeking the source of the distraught noise,

only to be frozen in my stride

by an unimaginably horrific being

of radiant light.

I forced my eyelids shut,

but even the maroon blood

that pumped through my veins

became too bright,

and burned my retinas beneath.

I fell to my knees and bowed my head

towards the cold floor;

my tears flowed like a torrential downpour

after a twenty year drought,

as I tried desperately to ease the pain,

wondering what

(IS)

will happen to me.

I cried out,

“What are you!? What do you want from me!?”

My tears kept pouring,

forming a small sea in the palms of my hands,

as the heat from the light

continued to beat down and lashed at my back;

I patiently, terrified in fact, waited

for a response,

some kind of reply,

listening intently as I tried to drown out the

(NECESSARY)

monotone shrill,

echoing through the halls of my memories

and off the chamber walls of my heart;

shaking my bones

and shivering my flesh,

rendering all that I know and don’t know

asunder.

Then the being of light spoke

to me in a soothing,

yet uncomfortable voice;

the kind of voice one would expect to hear

as you passed from the land of the living

and into the land of the dead;

the voice of eternal peace.

“I am an ANGEL,” the being spoke.

“Angel of the Lord, please have mercy,”

I pleaded, though I did not know why,

or what for.

“The LORD?” the being asked quizzically,

“perhaps a Lord.”

“O – angel, what is your name?”

“I am the eldest of the choirs;

the most brilliant star;

the one who seeks out the infinite;

the first to rise

and the last to fall:

I am the LIGHT BRINGER.”

“O – merciful Light Bringer,

what is this that torments me so?

what is

(THIS)

that demented sound!?”

“That, dear mortal, are the cries of the Squablings.”

Light Bringer’s voice lowered down to a depth

I could never conceive,

full of death, dread, and desolation.

“Those are the cries of one,

ten,

a hundred,

a thousand,

a million –

nay! TEN MILLION Squablings;

vicious cretins who are always well-fed,

properly taken care of,

given Eden as their home and playground;

given the freedom to do whatever they please,

gorging themselves

on appetites that are never satisfied,

and yet they still cry out

in agony,

in pain;

crying out unfettered

as they nip and bite

at the hands which feeds them;

biting each other,

claiming every scrap of food

(IS)

as their own;

yelling, shouting, squawking:

‘mine, Mine, MINE!’

Not caring about who they push down

or trample over

in order to plant their

(NECESSARY)

stake to the infinite bounty around them!”

Then Light Bringer opened the door of my room

and carried me in his arms,

dimming his supernova luminosity,

allowed me to bare naked witness

to the horror of the Squablings:

human forms with enormous,

featherless Seagull heads,

monstrous beaks snapping at all,

picking apart everything and everyone

within their reach;

their arms contorted out of shape,

molded into a perverted representation

of an avian wing;

and their legs reversed,

broken and bent,

all ending in a grotesquely clawed pair of feet.

Then,

taking my

(LIFE)

hand,

Light Bringer took me up as we rose above

the hordes of abnormal abominations;

flying high, higher, and higher still,

until we were in the space

between the heavens and the earth,

and yet the cries of the Squablings

grew louder and louder,

despite our grand height.

I could only stare wide-eyed

and jaw agape,

wondering all this time who

(FEEDS)

could end this pitiful existence.

“Dear mortal,” spoke Light Bringer calmly,

clearly sensing my discomfort,

almost as if reading my thoughts,

“They may not know it yet,

but soon,

very soon,

it will be the Harvest of the Crow,

and to the Squablings

it will be a holocaust!”

I awoke then from my true slumber,

from my nightmare within a dream;

(ON)

the prophetic

vision that

had been

given

by Light Bringer,

drenched

in

the

sweat

of

a

hundred

men,

my

clothes

sticking

to

my

body

like

some

sort

of

distorted

second

skin,

as

my

mind

raced

to

recollect

all

that

had

been

received,

but I forgot my pen.

Still –

hear me now!

We are the Squablings,

we are the ones who are full of hunger;

we do have a chance!

But we do not have

(LIFE)

much time,

for the Crows are coming;

their harvest awaits their reaping;

a harvest of souls;

a harvest of shadows,

and they must

(FEEDS)

fill their bellies

with those who are never full –

damn them all,

let us wear our glasses!

Let us see the light

that has been brought to us!

Let us be the difference!

Let us prevent this holocaust from coming

to fruition,

and put an end

to these tormented cries.

Can I get a ‘Hallelujah?’

(ON)

Can I get an ‘Amen?’

(LIFE)

Thank you, Light Bringer!

Thank you!

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

(THIS)

(IS)

(NECESSARY)

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

When I finally caught up to you,

you were ranting and raving

to a field of corn

off the side of some old country road.

You car had either stalled or ran out of gas,

either way, it wasn’t going anywhere

from the gravel emergency lane

it found itself in.

Your face was pressed against the glass

of a half rolled down window

in the backseat,

smearing sweat and saliva everywhere.

It took me a moment to realize

that you’re night attire

was gone,

placed in a pile in the driver’s seat.

Your skin was black at the time,

for that was the color

of the leather seats you sat in.

You continued to spout some nonsense

about baby birds, Crows,

and someone called

The Light Bringer.

Light Bringer…

Why does that seem so familiar?

The Moon peeked out

from behind the clouds,

shining its pale light down upon you,

and turned your skin white like Dracula;

your eyes began to burn red with restlessness,

yet were still wide with terror

and fervor,

like deep wells waiting to be filled

by the rains of some revelation,

a revelation that is coming;

has already come;

or may never come at all,

but still you wait.

With a start,

you got up and opened the car door,

stepping outside.

Your hand touched the roof of the car

and your skin turned to match

the Dukes of Hazzard orange

which your car was painted.

You removed your hand from the roof

and stood in the gravel.

Your skin turned gray.

You then made your way

into the dried grass.

Your skin changed once more,

to match the golden tan

of the dying plants beneath your feet.

Still, you continued to preach

to the gathered congregation of corn before you,

listening intently with every ear

available to receive your message,

regardless if they could understand

the incoherent ramblings which broke

upon their brainy kernels.

Your skin was now green

as you began to pass through the stalks

and away from my sight,

leaving me behind with your car

and the Moon,

bringing its light.

Bringing its light;

The Light Bringer.

Light Bringer.

Why does that sound

so familiar?

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

Light Bringer.

The Light Bringer.

Bringer of Light.

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

(THIS)

(IS)

Lucifer!

(NECESSARY)

A terror consumed my

(LIFE)

will as I hurried after you

into that field of corn,

(FEEDS)

ignoring the pain

from the rushing stalks and leaves

(ON)

as they cut my face, arms, and legs,

as I yelled out your

(LIFE)

name, trying to pinpoint

where you had wandered to,

(THIS)

praying that there

(IS)

was still time to stop you,

to save you,

to prevent you from falling into the

(NECESSARY)

hands of the Light Bringer’s grasp,

away from its influence,

to divert

(LIFE)

you away from its will and power…

(FEEDS)

(ON)

(LIFE)

But I was too late.

(THIS)

(IS)

(NECESSARY)

There you laid in a pool

of your own fluids,

already gone from this world,

lost at the foot of a scarecrow

that couldn’t scare away the crows

of your apocalypse.

Your eyes were still wide open

and turned towards the Moon;

it alone, illuminated the mud

and the twisted mess of vegetation,

which had been trampled

by your wild and delusional flailings,

all in the hopes of being saved

by Light Bringer,

and in a way, you were,

but instead, it turned into

the Crows who sought to reap

their reward,

feasting upon your never ending

(LIFE)

appetite,

your never ending hunger;

(FEEDS)

no matter how much you fed

(ON)

upon the fruits

from the Tree of Knowledge

and Everlasting

(LIFE)

Life.

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*

*CRICKETS*