The Dark Energy Term
The Dark Energy Term
Robert Jaison Black
Heather in the shallow
Heatherís hands were filthy. The tip of her first finger had bright blue flakes sticking to it. Behind and underneath the flakes were dirt. Her hands were earth stained, and the turquoise skink scales on her finger were magic dust.
The scales on the small lizard had fallen away from the tail that had recently departed from its body. They now clung to Heathers skin like jewels in some kingís crown.
The tail twist mesmerized Heather.
She wondered what she would look like with a bright blue winding tail, and how it would feel being pulled away from her.
She knows all the spots to find the things that she kills.
Any object left alone on the ground for a few days would draw these things in. A hiding place for the creeping thing.
She could always find something under rocks. Anything wet dirt sleeping she would murder.
Worms were humans. If by her luck she found many worms in the same area, they were a worm family.
Worms have skin like her skin. Deep blue veins and a big fat heart.
Soft and easy to tear.
Heather is a relative of earthworms, she supposes.
The insects need to be smeared. They have plastic skin, and if not smeared correctly on a hard surface they will simply curl up and cease to move.
Smearing shows what's inside, and itís what's on the inside that matters most.
The moment she spotted the skink lizard, Heather had just butchered a burgundy centipede, a lovely spider couple, and a family of sticky red earthworms.
Chunks of worm and spider she placed in her mouth and swallowed.
The shine on the lizard moved her eyes and she dove for it. Heather found the head half in her hand, but a squirming blue end was left alone with itself in the dirt, and the remains of Heathers latest sin.
The stomach area of this creature was her favorite. An all over thin cold rubber coating to cover blood and reptile brain. The belly was thick and white and proved that the thing was living.
The tail was only twitching now, and the skinks spade eyes seemed to cloud over. Heather believed the thing was somehow enchanted or holy. She would name it Mary, and keep it as a charm to ward off ghosts that hid in mothersí kitchen.
The tail was dying, and Heather hid Mary inside her panties. Bugs will come soon. Black piss ants will steal the nightmare scene to pacify their queen. Nothing for Mary to see.
A light sprinkle began to fall on Heathersí return from the woods near her home. The woods where she captured birds and held them tight, while plucking feathers one by one.
She loves me . . . she loves me not . . .
She would leave them naked with freezing gray goose bumps. Sometimes sparrows would gather above in dead limbs, and console each other at the sorrow witnessed below. Each pull of a feather brought a chirp sting and a tiny blood drop, which added much needed color to Heatherís world.
She loved the woods. She loved the quiet cover that allowed her to piss and shit where she liked. At home she shit in the bathtub and had always preferred to piss in the sink. Heather hated the sound of her piss falling into the water of the toilet. The sink was silent, like her woods.
Now home and wet from raindrops, Heather fished in her underwear for tailless Mary who she believed was God... or the devil in a cold-blooded camouflage. Heather pulled the skink free and saw Mary was smiling and dead. Between her legs, and in the rain, Mary had died.
Most thingís she touched seemed to always pass away. Her hand was fall and winter. Never spring.
Heather placed Mary in her motherís bible next to obituaries and stale flowers that had lost scent long ago.
Heathers Mother is Reverend of the Chapel of Divine Mercy. A small following gathers together each Tuesday but grand activities occur at both summer and winter solstices. On Tuesday evenings after service, Heather makes her way to a grave yard in a grove very near her mothers sanctuary. Heather loves the grove as she loves her woods. The grove was where mother exorcized her flock and preformed the beautiful act of the letting of blood. The Reverend Mother would stick Heathers bare feet with broken glass from bottles of communion wine.
"This is my blood, do this in remembrance of me."
The grove was also where Heather first glimpsed the star maker. A cosmic eyed angel under a stained glass halo.
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." Matthew 5:4
Heathers mother had been preaching the olivet discourse for over an hour when Heather snuck away into the grove. Heather stood in the scene, conjuring the dead and pinching the wet skin off a toad. She would lift away its hide as if it were a fruit needing peeling. She only peeled waist down to see the muscle of the toadís legs. How perfectly from thigh to ankle the skin removed. Heather was actually somewhat afraid of both toads and frogs. Minions of witches, preacher had taught her.
The ugly croak of the toad had disturbed the grove, and Heather could not rest until the sounds were silent. She removed a shoe and stepped down barefoot on the head. Squirts of inside liquid landed high on her dress and bled down her legs.Heather wept.
Her dove white baptismal dress was splattered in vile toad burst. Heathers favorite was her black laced funeral dress, but the dress she was now wearing that had once soaked in a holy water ritual, was now anointed in something much, much darker.
Mother would convince the fellowship this stain was the mark of the beast. Heather was a god damned devil child marked by Mephistopheles himself.
The church would bless the grove and stone the bitch spell caster... the hell hag.......
The Star Maker...
In the grove, Heathers feet and hands were bound, and after a short prayer Mother cast the first stone. Broken marble pieces from ancient gravestones tore tender into her body and left holes for spirit seepage. Cherry red blood on gospel white skin, Heather bled her blood.
After the burning, Heather was nothing but a black charred form. A massive wingless crow. Her fumes rose and met constellations leaking through nights sky.
Heatherís remains were placed in a tomb and covered with stones and a cross made of alabaster. Her body laid quiet, and after three days her ghost left her.
"I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee."
The Star Makers skin was silver foil and invisible. The Lord of Love and Light. In his palms he held Heathers transgressions. Scarlet and black.
To be continued..