Hello once again. I received the nicest email from a reader who wanted to know if the story Rosebud is complete. All the material is there to complete the book, but I am honestly horrified at the idea of cementing it all together and undertaking the huge task of editing. I know I know, I can have it edited, but I am worried the end result will be changed. I foolishly like to believe I can competently edit it myself. I felt emotionally drained by completing it in the first place. This fragment picks up where Grim Fare For The Faithful stops. If you haven't read that work, I suggest you do first to properly appreciate this one. You will notice I have incorporated song lyrics into the text. This excerpt takes place at a time in the story line when the past and the present are merging for the lead character. The song is a part of a slow segue. It probably won't make sense now, but when (if ever) I publish this monster, it will all come together nicely. As always, thanks for reading. 

The old man sits. Silent.
Sensing the air about him.
Tasting, feeling, touching everything in the dim chamber.
Unmoving and silent. 
He breathes deeply. 
He can feel the boy's presence. Swiftly sliding away.
He senses another presence as well.
Dark. Sinister. 
Somewhere in the distance the dark cacodemon rages forward into the night.

Before him in the center of the chamber floor is a large bed of coals. Smoldering and bathing the room with a soft red glow. The old man can hear the night sounds through a small open window. The crickets sing their churring song faintly outside. The leaves rustle and dance across the ground. Fall is singing its siren song to the world. The beautiful symphony of death and rebirth. The earth's silent cycle grinds to a crawl and the world slowly turns cold. 

He closes his eyes. 
( Hello? Is there anybody in there ? )
Focuses his mind on Rosebud lying asleep.
( Just nod if you can hear me )
Elise died so terribly, she died so violently and suddenly 
( Is there anyone at home? )
I feel so detached and angry at my life now
( There is no pain you are receding )
The world came apart around me. My wife is gone. 
( No distant ship smoke on the horizon )
I saw her face for one last moment as she walked away down the river trail to wash 
( When I was young I had the fever )
Now she's gone. now I have to protect Rosebud. Now in my darkest hour I feel strangely weak
( My hands felt just like two balloons ) 
In my anger, my hate I feel not myself. I feel at rest with my hate. At peace with my violent urge to kill the demon
( I, I have become comfortably numb )
My mind is made I have to cast the spell
( I, I have become comfortably numb )
Black magic I beg of thee to embrace me

The six sleeping creatures lie in a row before the fire. He puts a wooden tripod over the fire, hangs a black iron kettle over it. The old man takes a bladder from the mantle behind him and pours the kettle near full. The water is rancid, dark and putrid. The water came from an old tree stump. An oak, specifically. One that had been struck by lightning many times over the years. The tree died slowly and achingly. The mammoth oak eventually fell leaving behind a ragged stump. With years of rot the stump was hollowed by insects and collected water. The water was home to many slithering, crawling flying stinging things in its death. 

The old man places the bladder back on the mantle, then he kneels and takes a small pouch from the leather wrap on the floor. He closes his eyes and chants quietly. The coals begin to glow brightly. He holds one hand over the kettle. He pours the contents from the pouch into his outstretched hand. A dark grainy substance falls from the bag in little clumps and clots. He grinds the clotted mess into the palm of his hand and then turns his hand over and opens his palm. The water turns a ruddy red color. An acidic odor wafts up from the kettle. 

"Elise I beg of thee to forgive thee. Rat's blood is black magic." He says into the quiet chamber darkness. 

He kneels, picks up the wasp between two fingers and holds it over the kettle.

"Anger" he chants, and pinches the wasp's stinger off. He drops it into the kettle. 

He picks up the praying mantis.

"Patience, determination." he chants. He grasps the mantis' head between his fingers and snaps it cleanly off. It lands in the kettle. 

He is moving with a mechanical grace. He picks up the black widow.

"Cunning, balance, cold of heart." he chants. He crushes the spider between his hands and dips them in the steaming water.

He grabs the ungainly, limp vampire bat with his left hand. The copper punch with the right. 

"Stealth, menace, flight, hunger" he chants, and with the last word he drives the punch through the bat's chest. It sinks through the sickly thin creature with a paper soft crunch and impales his hand. Blood mingles from the two and drips freely into the kettle. He releases the punch, leaving it embedded in his hand and grabs the bat's head. He wrings it off cleanly and drops it into the boiling mess. 

"And disease" he mutters. The word disease draws out into a long hiss.

He pulls the punch from the palm of hand. It slides out with a gout of blood. The old man does not notice any pain. He lies the punch down and picks up the heavy lynx by the nape of its neck. He doesn't feel the weight if the big cat. 

"Strength, speed, skill, endurance, blood lust, rage, courage. " he chants. He kneels down and grabs the flint knife. With a swift motion he slits the animal's throat and holds him over the kettle. He turns the animal's chest to him and stabs the creature. Digging, rending and tearing away. Making a ragged gaping hole. He drops the knife to the floor and reaches into the lynx's chest cavity. With a sickening ripping and tearing of muscle and tendons he pulls out the animal's heart. Drops it into the kettle with an unceremonial splash. He tosses the carcass aside.

He picks up the small raven. Holds it over the blood splattered kettle of filth. 

"For you my Rosebud, intelligence, temperance, love, loyalty, faith, dedication, belief, trust, servitude..." A tear runs down the old man's face. A shutter flash image of Elise lying at the foot of the cliff blinds his vision. A crazed bloodsplatter of red is framing her crushed body. His eyes open wide and he shouts " Blood, pain, loss, famine, death, plague, hatred, war, pestilence, murder, rape, pillage, plunder" With each word his voice grows louder, reaching a furious screech. He opens his teared eyes wide and screams like a banshee into the chamber. "Revenge!!!" 

He crushes the raven in his bloody hand. Thick red gore trickles between his fingers. He casts the ruined bird into the kettle. 

The coals began to glow a bright hellish red. The bloody soup in the kettle boils and roils and spits and bubbles. It runs over at the edges and falls into the bed of coals, steaming and turning to a vomitus red black vapor. The old man's face is frozen in a rictus of anger and pain. His tears flow down his tan cheeks. The kettle boils angrily and spills dead water over into the fire. 

The hissing grows louder as the man begins a crying, rambling sing song chant, screaming into the dark room. Surrounded by the growing cloud of reddish black vapor. The scent assails his nostrils, the room seems to move around him as he screams. The bed of coals is now popping and spitting, now so bright they frame the man's silhouette against the chamber walls. The coals erupt into flame and bathe the chamber in a blinding white burst of light. The kettle explodes in a thick haze of gore and blood. The fire ignites the haze and the old man is enveloped in a brilliant red white veil of black magic hellfire. He throws his head back and screams at the room.

"Rosebud I commit myself for thee! You will not die! " 

The old man takes a staggering step into the fire. His robe catches, flames crawl up his body in a wicked dancing river. His hair bursts into flames, his skin charring. He raises the copper punch and draws it back high. Just as he is about to bring it down in a fierce stab the wall of the chamber behind him explodes in a shower of earth and stone. A shadow charges through the crumbling wall and knocks him against the far wall of the chamber. He looks up through the smoke and haze.

The Cree cacodemon is standing over him. The demon is smiling. 

"My spell " the old man says weakly 

"Too late " the demon grunts

Fade To Black