A goat’s head effigy hangs in the shadows

impaled on fencepost of all my sins,

a puppet on strings swaying on wasted life,

gaps within filled with hollow evidence

of blurred lines between sanity and insanity.

Raw emotion words dismayed by splintering

and stirring within my bubbling cauldron –

a bloodiness of fragmented images fighting

emblazoned demons inside ancient marrow,

death knoll to torturous bones waning

beneath skeletal remains in the next dimension,

shrunken death chants of venomous censure.

Breath of crackled air shrivels tainted trees

from which it hangs, scorched and shriveled,

churning high pitched screams in bleached debris

with putrid substances leaking from orifices,

brevity of stark messages tethered to skull,

disguised life whispers haze of unfilled promises

and death ensues on a nameless grave.

A goats head effigy hangs in the shadows

The all seeing eye rolls back into white

A dead man twitches in the gallows

In stop frame motion the moon enters night

Candles burn while blood begins to flow

Each drip a story of something you shouldn’t know

The crystals sway and you’re urged to drink

From a goblet of history your mind begins to kink

Candles and seduction, sex and destruction

As the world gives way to a darker instruction

Books and bells, hex’s and spells

Puppets on fingers to do as I tell

To control

To Possess

A darker life to confess

Black cat bone

Your thoughts are not your own

A darker road to roam

As incantations stain your skin

You are now ready. To. Do. My. Bidding...

© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.

A goat’s head effigy hangs in the shadows

Lit by a single red candle that glows

Behind the heavy wooden door

Dried matted blood and hair on the floor

Evil dwells in this malevolent place

Hiding its perverted ugly face

Here but a few hours ago stood the cloaked

Tall and bloody standing soaked

With an innocent at their feet

Naked with only her heart beat

A gasp of breath and all life was gone

Sacrificed to The Whore of Babylon

The end of the world is near

Soon he the master will appear

All those who do not worship his name

Will only have themselves to blame

----------------------------------------------

© M.Withers/M.Strudwick . All rights reserved.

Both the name The EriduSerpent/EriduSerpent

and any written material is owned solely by the above named.

Permission granted for all written material to be shared but not for profit.

Printing or publishing is prohibited without seeking permission first from said owner.

and he entreats a kiss.

I will scale the hollows of his mouth and linger at his lips.

I will whisper gentle offerings I bring before the veil.

I will wash my tongue in devilʼs blood and dance my devilʼs trail.

I will rise before the weeping moon and sing my ardent wish.

And when he speaks the master's tell

I'll grace him with his kiss.

      A goat's head effigy hung in the shadows. As representations go, it had to be a poor placeholder. The remnants of the hairy he-goat were going to rot in the black of my porch’s corner. It hung there amongst the pealing white wood paneling and dyeing plants. My lack of a green thumb prophesied the ferns’ death, the decomposing carcass ensured it.

      Even in the crisp night air the flies swarmed, the eyes were long gone, the hair seemed to wriggle. Whether that be from the flies or their offspring was unknown to me, though both possibilities were disgusting.

      Someone, more than likely my new decorator, had broken the porch light. The shattered glass of the bulb and housing lay about the planks, swimming in, well for lack of a better term, drippings. The only light to hit this dark little bit of my world was the streetlamp. Casting everything its light touched sickly yellow with its sodium bulb and subtle buzz. The illumination was poor, making shadows lurk and scuttle.

      The rancid reek rolling off the thing crashed in to me and crawled up my nostrils. It was painful, that stink, like the putrid smell was using my nose hairs to pull itself in. Whilst a part of it stabbed me in the throat with a moldering taste that made me gag.

      Burning the rotting thing would have been a blessing, the only form of truly destroying such revolting mass of decaying flesh. The corpse was corrupting in my shadow, my dark distorted twin cast upon the dead thing.

      I reeled from it; the reaction was out of my control. I nearly puked as well. A painful hack escaped my throat, my gag doing its best to take over and assert itself. I heard something drip, thickly. That sorted it, I puked.

      My shadow had followed me, the light from the street casting it now shining on the effigy.

      From where I kneeled the smell was near enough to background country stink that most of my neighbors would have ignored it. And with Halloween closing in the he-goat could be mistaken for an overeager seasonal decoration. Since I had been away for a few days I had to assume it had been placed shortly after I had left, and therefore rotting away under my neighbors’ eyes.

      I tucked my nose into my elbow, relying on the thick coat to ward off most of the reek. It worked, barely. With slow sideways steps I approached the goat at an angle, thus allowing the streetlamp’s yellow glow to shine upon the thing.

      The steps of my porch creaked under my lumbering pace, the noise sounding like cries to my stressed self. This whole episode was doing nothing good for my heart.

      Upon further inspection I noticed that the he-goat was just the skin. But troubling enough it had mass. It was draped over something, or as I realized as I got closer, someone.

      As I ease myself nearer to the weirdly clothed rotting body, my cell phone rang. The tone was near a whisper, but is vibrated with an intensity that my revved up body exaggerated. I stumbled back again, startled by it, and tripped over my own feet. The porch was not kind to me and I fell off it. The cement on my walkway slowed my fall, bringing me to gentle stop. Or I wished it had, sadly the sudden end to my struggle with gravity knocked the air from my lungs and slammed a headache into my brain.

      I lay there, breathing in a chest full of pain with each gasp, head throbbing with each heartbeat. My heart its self was racing, flooding my body with blood.

      Slowly I pulled out my phone and brought it to my eyes. I had received a text, from an unknown number.

In case you were wondering

It’s your brother

By the way

Say hello to your mom for me ;)

A goats head effigy hangs in the shadows

Upon a post of rotting wood

Abruptly embers form atop the figure

Bursting into cackling flames

The darkness retreats in fear of the light

With the blankets of darkness taken off

It can be seen

At the base of the now turning pole

Is a pentagram

Glowing a bloodcurdling crimson

Beyond the circle lies mounds

Of decaying corpses

And atop the highest mountain of death

He stands

Baphomet

A goats head effigy hangs in the shadows. It watches me from above, mounted into the barn wall. Crack. I wish I couldn't still hear it. The hammer striking down on my skull. The sickly squish as it's pulled back from the blood caking above my ear. A ribbon of scarlet before everything goes black. The blood is waterfalling down my face, pooling around me. The straw soaks it up, thirsty. 

I can no longer see where it went. He? It? I'm questioning everything I knew. Cold, I lay crumpled like an old sack across the concrete floor. Everything is silent, but I don't dare try to crawl away. I've learned my lesson, ankle screaming. I had snapped like a twig. Fragile as a swallow.

Without warning, I felt a breath against my gasping lips. Something, someone is right above my soaked ear. Pausing to inhale after every two words it whispers, "Ladybug ladybug fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children are gone. All except one and that's..."

A goat's head effigy hangs in the shadows. The room is dimly lit, illuminated only by a circle of candles. At the edge of the circle stands a masked silhouette, chanting in ancient Greek. I am nearly overwhelmed by vertigo as the pages turn. 

Sometimes I really hate October. You might think I would like it; after all, I can move around relatively freely without attracting attention. On the other hand, it really brings out the crazies, and for some reason they always, always, find me. Like this warlock and his attempts at a summoning ritual.

I focus my attention on the ground below me. Etched into the floor are intricate patterns that flow into a cohesive circle. It appears to be made of salt, charcoal, and some kind of blood. The limits of the circle are further defined by candelight; though the room is dark, not a single shadow breaks the seal. The effort is impressive, but ultimately futile. I dodge straight upwards and move along the rafters.

The warlock switches to Latin and sends a sphere of light toward the ceiling. By now, though, I am already traveling down the wall on his side of the room. As I get closer, he stutters and empties a saltshaker in a circle around him. Clearly he's an amateur if he thinks that would work on me, but I stop at the edges. If I mess with him a bit, maybe he'll leave me alone.

The warlock finally switches to English. "Shade!" he shouts. (I guess he sort of knows what I am at least.) "I have summoned you, and so by my dark power I command you: do my bidding and serve me!" (Like that ever works?) "Retreat from me and await my orders on the far wall!"

I slowly move toward the wall. May as well find out why he summoned me.

The warlock throws back his head and laughs. "At last! Now, demon (I am NOT a demon, thank you very much) you shall serve as my unseen wrath. No one will dare oppose me! I will be unstoppable! (Could he get any more cheesy?) Come, see the form of your first victim." He pulls a photograph from his robe.

I've had just about enough. I approach slowly and hover, pretending to look at the photo. Humans all look the same to me, I'd never figure out who it was even if I wanted to. Then, while he's still gloating and yammering about his would-be victim, I throw his book into the closest candle. It bursts into flames. The warlock screams and lunges toward it. I knock him to the side. Sure he screwed up the summoning, but I don't particularly want him to try again. 

"Get out of my way," snarls the warlock. He starts shooting those orbs of light again. I dodge them long enough to make sure the spellbook is ash. Once it's gone, I leave through the door. I take a quick look around the rest of the building, but it looks like all the summoning implements were in that room, and no one else is around. I head back into the night, stopping only to turn the horseshoe on his front door upside-down. Sometimes it's the little things that make you feel better.

"A goats head effigy hangs in the shadows, and a circle of robed figures stands around a stone altar. They're chanting in a language none of you recognize."

"What does the goats head mean?"

"Make a Knowledge: Religion check."

"24."

"You recognize it as a symbol of Ganshu, god of chaos."

"Crap!"

"I charge the nearest priest with my greatsword!"

"I fire my bow!"

"Well, the priests are surprised, so they count as flat footed... And you guys get a surprise round, so..."

Dalgor turned away, he'd heard enough. This was no summoning, and these children were no cultists. How an insipid game had somehow guessed the name of his daemonic master, he couldn't guess. But if he ever got a foothold into this reality, Dalgor swore he would punish those responsible.

A goats head effigy hangs in the shadows. 

"A sacrifice." The crowed whispered around her. "What for?" Was the next question they asked each other as their eyes darted through the darkness beyond their lamps."Why here?" They finally wondered.

"That is the question." The goats eyes opened and looked at each and every one surrounding him. "There is a debt to be paid to this land. One that has reached a tremendous amount bargained and dodged by the ones before you."

"What debt?!?" A man yelled to the goat. "We are good people! People of the good lord and or ancestors were too! They were true kind people and we walk in the steps of them doing right by each other"

The goats glaring eyes quickly turned to the man. "You know nothing of your ancestors truth. You know only of the bargains I spoke of before." The man open his mouth to speak again only to have blood flow from his body causing a panic around him. People attempted to run away but were frozen in their steps. " I am only here for you attention. Running away will not save you and your fear will not make her any kinder towards you."

Veins started to appear in the foreheads and necks of the people showing their struggle to thaw themselves from a disturbing freeze. This went on for 5 minutes before flesh began to turn red appearing to burn from invisible flames.

"If no one can see the cause of your pain does that mean it doesn't exist?" The goat asked as he watched them tense to replace a cry that they could not let out. " All I ask of you is to be given your full attention because you must understand why!!! This will stop your suffering now... and the suffering to come! She will give you one more try."

The crowd slowly began to circle around the goat but not by their own will. Once every one was placed, the goat began to speak again"

"Now. You can see you were not the only ones in agony even though you could not see each other in your scattered angles. I know you don't find this amazing but she will. It is not every day that pain can be revealed to everyone and it be understood by each and everyone the same. The way it felt and your winds may be different BUT you all know you were burnt! You can see it! Aaahhh! But there was no fire...no there wasn't. You all have that same confusion right? There was nothing pored on you, nothing sprayed through the air and you felt the dancing of flames but did not see them.    I have a one of many questions but this will definitely lead to the answer of what you all are wondering. Do you think I was sent here from the devil?

The crowds eyes began to look to the faces across from the as far as the could looking without turning their heads.

"You can talk. You just can't move but your mouth now works. But speak carefully because I am not the only one listening." The goat said.

"Where you? Sent from the devil?" One of the few women spoke out amongst the crowd. 

"I'm asking you? You will not be punished for what you think...respectfully." The goat said followed by a smirk.

"Then yes, I do think you were sent by the devil or something of evil works." The women said.

The goat's smile grew. "So much said within few words. So you think nothing evil comes from the lord. Is that correct my lady"

"Yes." She said.

The goat chuckled. " And what makes you think this?"

"The good book." She said.

He said these words very slowly,"the goooddd book."

"Yes." She said.

"Given to you be your ancestors I presume?" He asked.

"Not exactly mine I don't think. But in a way it was given to us by the same ones that taught our people I guess." She spoke as if she had forgotten her pain.

"I'd like to thank you for your bravery. It was not as foolish as the man's on the ground. Your answers are very much appreciated because it leads to my answer;furthermore it leads to the truth. It will still show the foolishness of your people but she will forgive you for that. Well wait.... I think I would like to pick your brains more and let you reveal the truth to yourself. It's always fun that way." The head of the goat looked through the crowd and locked eyes with a man the least sorrow in his eyes. "You already know don't you?" He asked the man. "Don't hold back your tongue because that will upset her. Do you think I was sent by the devil?"

"Yes." He said. 

"That's too simple of an answer for your vibrant thoughts. Elaborate. This is the one time that your peers will know you are not the crazy awkward man they think you are."

The man and goat looked at each other before he spoke. "I-I think the lord is the devil."

The goat smiled. "Why?" He asked while looking at the fac of the others.

"Because who else would have the power to do any of this. The good book says the two are separate, the lord and the devil, but allows certain power to the devil. Power that the lord gave. Giving the devil a part of him. Making him HIM. Sooooo. The devil is him."The man said before looking down then up.