“Hey soldier! Legionnaire! God slayer! You called me back!” Judith said jovially.
She held my stump in her hands and then she was holding my new hand in her hands in a slight of magic. I lay back in the chair and sighed deeply, my words came out with my breath. “You are right. I need help desperately, I can’t do it, I can’t”
“Yes you can” She smiled rubbing my hand “Only you can do it.” She nodded her head reassuringly. “Let me show you how it’s done and put you on the right track.”
She continued “Here do you remember this?” I was suddenly back at my old flat in Avenham, I recognised the scene. Judith was still hold of my hand and we stood unseen in the background.
Monster was sitting in a chair smoking a cannabis pipe, Monster looked very ill; I had not been well at the time. Across from me on the sofa was the girl Alex and her boy friend Karl the busker, he was playing his guitar and Alex was smiling. Monster’s face looked suddenly drawn, he was shaking almost uncontrollably as though green with fear, his face trembled trying to maintain a smile, the pipe held in his arm in a complicit gesture fell to the floor, and he looked even more terrified as though going paler with the embers spilled from the pipe on it’s side on the floor. A magical connection. Even the chair trembled and Karl stopped playing, a smile froze on his face. Alex face was also trembling concerned with me. Monster said “Excuse me! I have to do something a second.” With a controlled effort he smiled and left the room. I followed him into the bedroom with sympathy. He put his hand on the wall and shaking and agonised with fear put his face against the wall opening his mouth, gasping, the eyes wide, he knocked his head against the wall. He looked down and saw his guitar on the bed, and, still shaking picked it up and took it into the other room, smiled and sat down.
Monster looked across at Alex and started playing like he had never played before, so fast on the acoustic guitar, almost superhuman, the fingers moved and the eye watched them fascinated, he forgot his fear and played and played what ever came into his head. To me it was like Dylan strummed and slapped his guitar then standing up and with a shunt of it on a bent leg, I was Hendrix in glorious psychedelic apparel, playing with his teeth and filling the room with bright musical colours over the mushy pea atmosphere of fear. To every one else I was playing fast and improvising basic guitar sounds.
I said to Judith “that’s the only time I ever played well.”
“Shush! Watch.” Judith said.
The playing continued for ten minutes, and then Monster stopped and smiled at Alex having forgotten his fear in his amazement and curiosity. Judith pointed at Alex with her finger, concentration on her face.
Alex’s face changed, transformed, the eyes were fixed and looked like an owl bird mask, except written on human flesh, the bottom jaw shook in a quizzical excitement. Then she shook her head in amazement, her mouth in a wide “O”. She looked beautiful.
“It was you who did that!” I exclaimed at Judith.
Judith smiled widely, looking me in the eyes, “Yes I’ve been here in the time line from time to time. I always kept my eye on you after you met Jane. I kept my eye on my biological duplicate, my genetic reincarnation.”
Looking majestic but playful and down to earth at the same time, very Jane, she informally scratched an itch on her bum, bending her legs; and said “Now you’ve seen you’re self in a stronger light, are you ready to go back and play a trick on God? Are you? Eh?” She tickled my chin with her finger.
The tickle carried on back into the spirit world, at my spirit flat. I asked a question of Judith. “If Jane is the same as you, except for her experiences, how is it she has a physical existence separate from her reincarnation?”
“The after life is a world of imagination, to imagine something successfully is to make it true, whilst in the concrete world, we imagine everything we see but it is tied in physically, we can not alter anything. Except for one magical thing, magic has its counterparts, what humans need and have imagined to be true, their deepest magical dreams, have their physical equivalent. A man wanting power through magic, to make his will real, can achieve nothing on Earth through conventional magic, but if he keeps imposing his will, the essence of magic, tied in to real methods and aims perfected, then he can achieve power or almost anything he wants, the great dictators of human history achieved power this way. Likewise on Earth it would be impossible to predict the future by means of a crystal ball or any other sort of supernatural clairvoyance, but events are the predictable outcome of material forces, so with the correct scientific method, an understanding of mass psychology, he could predict the future. Finally, reincarnation is a human dream, but accidental repetition or race memory makes it a reality, with Jane history accidentally repeated me, so I have an interest in her, but of that I will tell you nothing.”
“Perhaps I don’t want to know.” I lied.
“That’s a lie” Judith stated, “Now drink this” She said, producing a bottle of wine from behind her back and presenting it with a smile of triumph and knowing. She always made me feel like I wasn’t quite grown up, with out having any deep maturity herself. We were vital, which is; well vital. To be grown up is to lack vitality. May be since it comes from the id, and this world was all ids. To lack imagination and impulsiveness here, I already knew; could mean the certainty of the second death. The super ego destroys the person; a society controlled by the super ego with no persons will be stale and unproductive. Here it just all happened that bit faster.
I took a swig from the bottle, the wine was good, but dryer than I had ever tasted.
“Drink it all! Be a man eh?” She said with authority and a smile that appealed to the child in me.
“Why do you want me to drink it to myself? It’s very dry.” I asked this with a kind of macho inquisitiveness that was complicit, if I was to self analyse, which seems appropriate after discussing Freud.
“Why I want you to drink it all is a secret, there is an ingredient not very magical that will soon have an effect and not the alcohol, though that will give you a bullish strength. As for being dry I baked you some biscuits that I want you to eat that will make it even dryer.”
She produced some biscuits in a paper bag from behind her back again. “Here!”
I ate a biscuit, I felt like I was in some kind communion, a giving of love, that I was eating something she had baked herself. “That’s nice, what’s in it?” I asked energetically.
“Meal, honey, leavings of red wine, Abremaline and olive oil and the rich freshest blood from my moon cycle.”
On the last bit I spat crumbs in her face carelessly, she was not amused.
Sternly she said, “I put a lot of effort into those, it was Aleister Crowley’s recipe and no one gave God more shit than him. Except Lucifer. At least drink the wine, it is essential in a most remarkable way, the satisfaction of which will become clear later.”
I drank the whole bottle of wine straight down, to please her again and to impress her, to be her man. It burned my throat and reddened my lips. It hit me and I fell back on my toes, almost taking to the air on my back.
“We are going to set God a little trap” she smiled producing a piece of chalk in her hand. She marked my armchair with it. I felt a silly injury to my house proud ness, like she was hurting me but it felt good. Then I thought how silly that was with the crumbling walls and the burnt carpet. The markings she drew were obviously of the craft but I did not recognise them. She smiled and produced an old fashioned alarm clock with hammer and bells from behind her back again. “This will go off at a certain time and summon him we will not be here, I think he will come, he is expecting you to lay out your terms and make a deal, to save his skin, which he probably sheds in the Sun anyway. I want you to synchronise your watch and set the alarm to the same time.”
I did, “Where are we going?” I demanded to know.
“Back to an unpleasant but brave moment for you; the Irish.” She stated a little sullenly for my benefit.
“Oh G
od not the Irish” I said.
Then we were back at my old flat in Avenham, it was empty. I heard a crash far off “That’s the brick with the note on it going through their window” I said, amusedly stating a regrettable fact. There was the sound of trainers going up the flat stairs, “That’s me and ginger Kieran returning” I continued.
The door to the flat opened and Kieran and Monster stepped in. The door was a new one from the council and Monster locked it putting the inbuilt deadlocks in place. “The deadlocks will give him an extra three seconds” I dialogued to Judith. Then I added “It won’t do any good you know, to change history.”
Judith replied with aggressive vigour “I don’t intend to, think more laterally, I learnt this from Crowley he was a right cunning bastard you know, adept at magic; how he managed to turn a cowardly succession of victories into a glorious defeat, is a puzzle that keeps God awake at night; and I should know I’ve slept with him.”
With that revelation my heart appeared to sink and crash with the bang on the door. Which for a second I took to be its own journey. My old nick name was called out, “Monster, open the door” Came an angry voice between large vibrating slams.
Judith laughed “Ha! ‘Monster’ how apt, why not the Beast?”
I replied creasing my face in a wince at the pattern of events “That name was purely for the size of my drugs habit.”
Monster had got up and was kicking the door angrily “Give me the fucking money back”, the door took the strain but on the other side was the splintering of wood as the dead locks were pulled out. The door flew open and Monster made a dignified retreat into the living room with the pale and silent Kieren, as four burly and very angry Irish stormed in with chisels, hammers, screw drivers and iron bars, all with blazing red hair, one tall, one sad looking with a moustache, one fat and stocky looking like his flesh would explode if his blood pressure were to increase by a single degree, and of course, one with no legs I had only seen before in a wheel chair.
Judith analysed “That man has plastic legs, that’s as surreal as anything I’ve seen in the after world.” The slow and incredulous look dawning on Monster’s face showed a similar line of thought. Monster was now staring rudely.
The fat one called out “Sit down” and Monster did, somewhat defiantly though “Give me my fucking money back” he said. Possibly fearing repercussions from my six foot seven and huge supplier I noticed for the first time that the tall one slipped the purse with the cannabis deal money into a table draw when Monster wasn’t looking “You see I knew it, I always knew I didn’t misplace that money” But Judith had moved and she looked at me holding up a piece of chalk and proceeded to draw an ‘X’ several feet away from Monster’s chair.
The four, gathered round Monster with their weapons to Monster’s face, I looked defiant as counter accusations were made, but there was a diverted look on my face to the side and I knew Judith had stepped over and made her self visible.
Judith said with her friendliest and most reassuring look to a stunned me “Trust me. Move your chair three feet towards the window as though you are shrinking away, then insult them as bad as you can when I say now.”
Monster shrank away in his chair, and at that moment my alarm went off, I looked at my watch with it’s soft Dalliesque face. Then when I looked up Monster must have been given the cue.
“You shouldn’t even be hear, you’ve stolen your legs off your sisters action man, and as for you, you’re gonna a have coronary if you get any more angry or lift that bar in anger, why don’t you go back to your IRA momma…”
The tools came raining down but we were back in the spirit flat. God was taking the paggering of his life from the unseeing Irish, his body too soft in this dimension, the mask face cracked and mouth opened in a surprised “O”. His arm came up to protect himself from the blows and made a u-bend when a bar hit it. He crumpled to the floor and the Irish disappeared.
Judith laughed clapping and gave me a push “I bet you need a piss from that wine don’t you?”
My bladder was painfully full.
“Go on, do it; take a piss on God.” She carried on; pushing me again.
I unzipped my flies hastily and with difficulty, the zip was bendy. Then it poured yellow down on God, little steamy pools congregating on the rumples of his suit, his head covered by the busted alarm clock with it’s cracked face, still ringing, telegraphing his head ache, and the little bell hammer still beating him. An arm went in the air with a gesture and he disappeared.
Judith looked at me with an estimating smile, her eyes moving up and down my body. Well I had better be off, I’m going into hiding and I suggest you do the same, I left a little present for you first in the kitchen, it’s the wrap with the love heart on it. She disappeared.
I went into the kitchen and got the small paper wrap, heroin is usually in a tiny cellophane bag, it is usually speed in a wrap, I wondered what was in the wrap, possibly MDMA, I hoped so. I went back into the living room; I undid the wrap and put the contents on a spoon and cooked it up over my Zippo, a little piece of cigarette filter bobbed and floated in the spoon, for a moment I saw my self floating there, warm and relaxed, I pulled the substance into the needle and I gripped a tourniquet around my arm and I hit my arm to get some veins up, then I put the needle in my arm and pulled up the syringe to make sure there was blood in it. I injected the substance into my vein. I immediately felt a warm giddy melting feeling, like a large dose of LSD, I laughed uncontrollably and felt in love with Judith, that it had always been Judith and she had left me her love in a package. I looked at the wrapper to see if there was any left and there was a message in tiny letters with bigger letters signing it ‘God’. It read, “sorry I got there first and adulterated it, you’ve just took a hot shot, and boy is it going to get hot.” I groaned resignation mixed with pleasure and fell unconscious.
I awoke up in searing heat. Naked. So hot was it choking black smoke was burning off my body cramped and knelt in a small padlocked bird cage. I could not move my wings. The horizon was curved and everything was red lava with sulphurous clouds in the distance. A small bird toy mirror hurt me with its intense light dazzle in the cage, and I could see my stern face reflected. I gathered this was the famous Hell; another name for it might be the planet Venus.
I smiled in the mirror as a yellow cloud raced over and covered me; it burnt me in unbelievable pain. I watched in the mirror as its acidity dissolved my flesh and then the muscles tensing underneath until nothing was left but my still grinning skull. It was absolutely horrifying. Then the cloud went away and my flesh had a chance to reform. But the cloud came again, and again my flesh was stripped, and so on.
I pulled my little finger off my right hand and waited in horror for the cloud to come again. The cloud came and I reformed, this time with a bone finger loose to pick the massive lock. I knew how to pick locks from my squatting days and I went to work wriggling it in the lock. I sprang open the cage door and took big burning breath as I stretched my body upwards to get rid of the cramps and in triumph.
I set off for a walk, wandering for help; my wings were still hopelessly cramped and no good for flying. With every step I took my feet sank into the lava, the flesh on them unravelled and burnt away to the bone (I had bones here!) and then reformed as I lifted them out for another step. Some times the yellow clouds would come and I collapsed in a pile of bones, aware and waiting for them to pass. The Sun burnt down and followed, whipping me with tendrils of light that seared my flesh, it seemed to be alive in much the same way as an animal, moving in an attack formation backwards and forwards, in my dazed state I could not tell if this was true or an optical illusion, however, as I have stated, it is enough to imagine something is true here to make it so.
As I made my way on, thinking how I could get away from here, whether any of my magic could possibly be strong enough, the clouds came again, just as the Sun lashed me on my arse so I fell to the floor, as I started knitting together again, a vulture of metal
, suited to this climate, tried to make off with my severed arm as I gained flesh, I wrestled for the arm with my good one, and it spanned its wings in the air, shading me in a fan of metal blades and cogs against the bright light behind it, having pulled the bird in I tried to dash it against the ground, hoping to kill it and use it for shade and armour against the Sun, but it sped off, releasing my arm which I attached back. For some time later it made dives at me, tearing out clumps of flesh from my side and eating the liver.
As I detected a movement and a splash of sand on the ground, I was too late to still my travelling foot, and it came down on an emerald crusted lizard. The lizard bit me and as I lifted my foot high in the air it hung on to my smouldering big toe. I shook it off.
Immediately I realised the lizard had a defence poison of a paralysing and hallucinogenic nature as I fell to the ground. Not being able to help my imagination the lizard grew in size, stood on hind legs and took on some of the appearances of a man, the human face jutted its green chin in the air vainly and nonchalantly and its tail flicked me with burning dirt. Then the lizard multiplied and surrounded me. The lizard men did some kind of snake dance then flicking me with their tails they started to bury me with flesh dissolving mud. There was the ‘thud, thud’ of my own burial into the ground.
With some effort I managed to come around and imagined the lizard’s away and sweated its swelling and blackening poison out of my body. I stood up on my blackened and earth eaten shanks and carried on walking, because there were clouds gathering in the sky.
The Urban Book of the Dead Page 4