V M Welcome to the Eighties

[Eddie the Head]

Bells howled and
Church bells rang as
Evil sprung upon the land
Time was sand
In this new plan
Plaything, playtime
time against chime
He who walks alone.

The melodic chanting surrounded the macabre lyrics as the summoning commenced.

I'm on the run, I kill to eat
I'm starving now, feelin' dead on my feet
Goin' all the way, I'm nature's beast
Do what I want and do as I please
Run, fight to breathe, it's tough
Now you see me, now you don't
Break the walls, I'm comin' out
Not a prisoner, I'm a free man
And my blood is my own now
Don't care where the past was
I know where I'm going out
If you kill me, it's self defense
if I kill you then I call it vengeance
Spit in your eye I will defy
You'll be afraid when I call out your name

The curse continued solidifying as the creature took a tangible form, a new shape peeling from the vessel of the scarred sacrifice laid before him. Evil unfurling at all ends of the world as his fingertips began to grip from the portal from Hell, sliced from the flesh of man.

Called by the chants and echoes of a backwards song.
An embryo of thoughts and sound.
Brought to being by mysticism and spell.
A creature beyond time,
welcomed into the shadow of a world
ruled by mortal men poisoned by
the darkest parts of their own souls.

The ritual welcomed the reborn demon, the ichor of his skin, the wretched texture of twine as he gnarled his lips into a grin. Impatient teeth, waiting for their first bite, chomped down on his closest victim. A summoner. He slurped the hot gore down his throat. There was no flesh where he had come from. The liquid did not sate him, instead, drove his madness further while his owl-like head peeled across the room popping with his spine as it made a full round.

A room illuminated by flame of candle, his ghastly form emerged pulled at his joints like a puppet without string, from the five points of a chalk star etched into the ground. At each point, little humanoid trinkets that held energetic tethers to all things satanic.

Their curse had required more than one blood sacrifice -one wholly willing- or hadn’t they known that when they read their Latin manual?

The smile on Eddie’s face, now bathed in blood, surged brighter while the ivory of his teeth dripped with fresh depleting life. Now, it is finished. Life had been taken to ensure his stay.

Master would be proud and pleased. There was work to do and havoc to keep.

His bloodied mouth twitched at the warm ooze of horror, he could still taste the faintest form of the life he’d sipped while the body gurgled on the floor, limp at his feet. The echo of an uncast scream on his tongue. The ooze pooled from the jugular of the hooded corpse, liquid marring across the pentagram and pooling from the center where his victim lay. Where he had risen. The artistic spread slowly churned, the glistening blackness of blood painting against the rotting wooden floor of this decrepit shack.

He’d been pulled from a Hellish throne to this dismal doorway. However, the atmosphere was just perfect by his own making.

He was free. His life now, anointed by the flesh sacrifice of sin. Immortal in this realm. For he had only one master.

The candles that once blazed around him caught the invisible wind as he cast evil wherever his foot fell and whispered away into charred wicks.

Slowly, he rose. Here, in the mortal realm. Surrounded by all the riches in the world. More movement tweaked the side of his rotted lips and alas, the demon’s head latched back, an immense sound freed from its open throat. A tone of sickening goo, as the fleshless demon took his total form, appearing as a hollow corpse in search of eternal torment.

That of souls and blood.

And they were his for the taking.

“MmmmmmwwahhhaaaMwahahaha…”

 

[Eddie the Head]

The unborn demon had been made. Since he was not born, he was immortal. Doomed and destined to scour the world. All was there for his taking. And soon it would be.

“Welcome Master,” a woman’s voice spoke from beneath a heavy occult hood. She offered the vulnerable flesh of her vulnerable forearms, in case Eddie should crave another. For she was acquainted with the ways of the creed.

His eyes wizened to the female, an odd twitch in his ways of appraisal. He would allow her to live. She had vision, he would let her vision serve him answers of the new realm and that of mortal men.

“We thank you for receiving our offering, as well as hailing our call. There is much to be done. We only have so much time until the forces change once again under the tides of a different moon…” her voice trailed.

What she was saying did not sink deeply into the creature’s mind. His dead eyes cast out the sliver of the cellar window.

A celebration of exploding light scattered against the dark sky in the distance. Let them have their luck and their light on this night. These mortals would need it with him around.

Eddie, a culmination of all that was foul in the world, would purge all good from this place. Single-handedly.

There was nothing quite like the flesh of his kill. One piercing swoop of his crooked maw and death had been reaped. The befallen prey, a crumpled lump on the ground. The oozing flesh, still moving on the molecular level. Swimming with his saliva like the aftertaste of warm soup.

Unable to reach with his tongue, he placed his index finger in his mouth as he tried to pick out a stringy scrap of sinew that had caught between his teeth.

“Master said that you’d pick me. But I see now this is what he meant.” She stated, adding, “To be spared.”

The incessant speech of this mortal woman called him back from his motion but not before he’d snagged the shred and tossed it aside with an obnoxious flick. His mouth turned up in a snarl as he pulled his glowing pupils and fixed them on the hooded feminine figure.
So what did this wretched wench want with him? Her request… If it wasn’t obvious, it was up to his own discretion should he keep it. If it did not serve the Master’s need. Though, she spoke of Master fondly… She would be immediately dealt with. However, if he had been called by the Master through her, here… He weighed the thoughts with consideration while moving his tongue over his bloodstained lips.

“Woman… Speak thy request and be done with it.” He requested in a sinister timbre. She had summoned him. While he owed her nothing but his presence, he would consider it. Though, if her ramblings continued. He would not even consider offering her a painless death.

“Uh-uh…” Her breath caught nervously in her throat. “There is much to discuss… Er… What shall I call you?”

His voice was a crackling whisper, “Once… They called me Eddie. So should thee.”

The cult member whose face was shrouded in shadow gaped in surprise, shocked by the unassuming, almost friendly terminology that was his nickname. It sounded human, though, so was his form. Far from goatlike, horns, tail, this creature was that of skin and bone. A corpse summoned from the fallen, though he had no soul.

Unlike hers, which had once been and now was sworn away on a deal with the Master. The creature before her, she sensed, had none. The air around him was vapid, life-sucking. A swirl of tumultuous evil that chilled bone and twisted instinct into pits. No mouse, nor insect, dare scatter on this unholy ground on this unholy night. For even life in the tiniest of vessels could sense death and valued their survival enough to escape or hide.

“Eddie, yes.” She nodded and bowed, then fell to her knees. “Master has had us summon you. We are at your disposal. There is much to discuss. You’ve been called here for a purpose. The same purpose you have always been called to do.”

A shared baited smile united them due to the pleasing topic of diplomacy.

She rose from her kneel, this time meeting his eyes from behind her human veil. The unasked question on her lips remained staining the air unconsciously. Will you do it?

It was impossible for him not to. His very essence was evil. Master’s Will would be done. Eddie’s answer lay in the informal response as his stoic expression reframed by the upturned crescent on his lips. The malevolent corpse’s smile twisting into a work of vile expressionist art.

His will would be done.