A silhouetted rain

Of many tales written about killings and human hunger for flesh, I will narrate you one. A kind of dwelling into the soothe of night, when one lets himself fall into the coffin without any resistance. This is unlike any other written dramatization of a murder, is a real thrill down your spine, for I have no intention of concealing the events that occurred prior to this night. I am about to tell you a tale of my own sufferings, my own dilemma of the inferior understanding I had towards him. He never wanted me to go far into the woods alone, for he cared for me, as I did for him. Did I, for him? 

The events of 'this happening' happened in a very subtle yet violent mental state. The disguised cannibal in him consumed us both, for I was no one, but his victim, another one! He was his own consumable commodity. I don't regret what I did, what I will do, as my actions are nothing but a series of reactions that made me wander in those dark corners of my own heart. The malevolent beatings, the tree touching, dancing devious flames, the symphonies of the craws and the silhouetted rain; preserved as amber, holding life's clues for millennia. 

For I have travelled far in time searching for my own sins, did I find? But I wasn't to find, I was to follow my trail back to him, from where I began, from where we began. And I did! For he was nothing but a shadow, a creep in the woods, a chill in the night, I anyhow had to clue the clues he left, here and there, anywhere, everywhere! I wanted to know, why he tore me, before me, nothing to stare but night, I am nothing but a shadow in time. 

I must tell you his name, "SCARRIBUS RANG", the world knew him as, but for me, he had no name. Do you ever name death? Neither did I! Any synonym of an ugly monster will suffice; I don't mind calling him Satan's worst creation or anything of that sort, for I have seen what lies within him. 

No man can imagine such horrors which I have seen being with him, I have, but dwelt into the corrupted heart of him. Oh yes, he does have a heart, black as those devilish eyes, as though the vast cosmos resided in those bleak globules of hate. Those deep foxy eyes, I had to, anyhow confront my sins, my death stands at my doors and before I step in doom, I have to drag him along.

The night of remembrance, unlike tonight, t'was calm, as for my mind! Standing at the corner of the bar, I saw him, at the far end, staring at me with those, oh those eyes, how, even after death, I'll ever forget! I knew right there something wasn't right about his "LIE-IFE". But can any man resist his acute intriguing persona, the calm on his face, the dark tranquility of his attire. 

I have seen men, but not with that strong will of domination, unlike me! I was to be dominated by this man. Kneeled I was, at his's! I'll blame the nyctophilic admiration of mine. But as everything else alive, I pay my price, in the form of my demise. 

That night and this, much hasn't changed in him, he's still the charmer for the pilgrims of darkness, so was I, nothing but a soul wanting serenity, did he provide! Terrible mistakes we all make in the inferior understanding of ours. I was to rule him, but rather he ruled me. In that "Café Moriarti'', the cup of coffee and the blunt conversation, oh I remember how dwelled I was in him! No other fallacy ever coated me with such facetious lies.

I had to, but follow my heart, his part. For all my strength and reasoning were being void in the process of admiring his dark silhouette. My medium of expression can never encompass all that he looked like. Like, the fume of lighted cigarette which you feel, adore but can never express, similar was the kind of his visual aspect. I now recognize the misapprehension of my mind which brought about this night's incidents. 

For thirty days and far more nights, I was entrapped into his web of sins. But as every other night, this too had an end, with me though! The incident at, "Café Moriarti", has seen many a stone's revolution round the earth, and thus it passed into the laps of an eternal memorization, as everything else related to him. 

I have no regrets while making you aware of the fact that if he had any human contact, t'was me. I never saw him as something evil or blasphemous. He was just another victim of time. For I, apart from seeing the hate and anguish, have also seen the brighter side of him, where he chose 'not to kill humans'! But that too in some of his bright moments, well, you know the rest. 

After the short and brief eye-contact at Café Moriarti, he was not seen for many days, but wasn't I captivated in those few minutes! And then after two full moons, I saw him again. And, if I forgot to tell you, the morning after Café moriarti incident, I read about a murder in the local newspaper concerning a small town, my small town. The news headline, as I vaguely remember, read, "Dead body of a 23 years old lady found in the streets of City-Ville, fear runs amok citizens". 

I, for some strange reason, knew it was him. The brief contact I had with him enriched me with his passion and his lust, for blood! Back to him, second time I saw him in a saloon, getting a cut while he was preparing to cut. Oh how can I ever tell you what those eyes bore in them, for only a looker can tell the truth of life, DEATH! My words cannot enrich you with the darkness they carried in. But one look of mine was enough to tell that 'someone was going to die'. I recited to myself several times staring at him with my pitiful eyes.

The chill I felt as he looked at me, back with full swing, is incomparable to even the most horrifying of feelings I would've or could've ever felt. Walked to me, handed me an envelope and walked away without a word. It's not like I regret he walked away, but a truncated conversation was no harm either. But then again, it is he, who has his ways, so he plays with his own rules. 

The envelope, I had to gather all my courage to open. For it could've borne my death sentence. But my time was yet to come, tonight is my time; that night wasn't! The envelope contained a letterhead; empty though, an address on the top left corner and the rest, silent as his words. This very mystery of him, made me wander into his dead black heart and let him corrupt me. 

You know I've heard, 'The greatest and strongest kind of human feeling is fear and the greatest kind of fear is the fear of the unknown'. Yet, it is funny or sad I have no idea, but the fact is, humans purposely venture into unknown and enshrouded corners. Funny as it sounds, I was corrupted with humanity too, so I paid a visit to the "HILL-VALLEY APARTMENT no. 666". No other piece of information was available on the letterhead on the first appearance, but a close look can reveal what remains hidden otherwise.

The letterhead was watermarked, with a name, 'SCARRIBUS RANG'. As for many times I have failed in life, but this wasn't another chapter in failure. I had a jar full of courage, with me, just in case. I never had to ring that bell, the door was creakingly open. I sneaked in to find nothing, as expected. The apartment was a pretty huge one, again fulfilling my expected horizon. I, upon my invited arrival, enquired about the lonely house with a detective's curiosity and eye. 

My steps were faint and futile, so were my breaths. So calm, so steady! The night at the Hill Valley Apartment witnessed one of the fiercest battles my heart and mind ever had. I was opposed to dwell into my demise. coming so far you already know what was and who won, I don't reckon. All I remember is that I lost that night. Me, myself, and I: all but one had an affinity for the scarred monster of my nightmares.

My…..

My imaginations painted him in a scaled horizon of my derogatory mental capabilities. I don't know how long I'll be able to hold on before falling tonight, for a person not-so full of life as you, burning his soul with cigarettes, not so healthy Maryam. I don't want you to pity me, I just want you to understand why I had to do this, why this night had to befoul me, why even after being aware that I am burning my soul, I am, was doing it! Something terrible was happening to me, something inexplicable, transformation, corruption, delusion. 

All these words are, but a fragile attempt to make you aware of the sinner's state of mind. I had no other option but to fall into the coffin made of my own fragile indiscriminate mind which in order to find serenity, dwelt deep into the dark oceans. Without any anchor to comprehend my shrunken panorama. The mental instability which was ashore, waiting for me, did nothing but clutched me. 

'Scarribus Rang', I wish I hadn't chosen to look into his eyes that night in his apartment. I wish I can undo all I did that has befallen this night on my guilt-stricken soul. Blood, Blood everywhere, here and there, in the bathtub, in the room, on his hands, on the never touched broom. No human ever died of his hands except one lady in 'Café Moriarti'. I don't pity her; I have an understanding that he must've had some explainable reason justifying his doings. Although all he had to do to convince me, was to look into me! 

Those charming shells of hate. The blood in his apartment was of no human, nor of a beast, but a creature they call man's best friend. They call man's best friend? Although I do not disdain the fact that my understandings deny such severe sacrilege, but then again, I wasn't the master module here, alas, I was being controlled! My loneliness now cured, plagued me with such heinous shadows, that I am none, but a creature of night, seeking night, inhaling night. My worship and prayers failed as did Faustus', once he had Mephistopheles. I had 'Rang', to ring my death-toll which I am hearing tonight.

 But, to be honest with you, I don't regret my actions. For I did only what my mental comprehension was capable of, diving into the maddening sea. Clinging to him was the best, and the worst thing ever happened to me. He kept on killing those tiny helpless creatures, which were supposed to love you back with all their heart, and I was, but watching them die. Helpless they were, so was I. For a word of denial from my end, would've ended me. I should've done that, I now realize, the end has been brought about anyhow, sooner or later, was, and is of my least significance. 

Now you understand why I am finishing us both, for I cannot live with the guilt of sacrificing my only friend, but at the…same time I cannot let them die, for the last speck of humaneness in me is still alive. For I cannot tale this to no one, so I chose you to concur with me on my final journey.

Tonight, I am ending it all, myself and 'Scarribus Rang'. Though I did not conceal any event that brought about this night, I had something hidden from you. My name. For I wanted you to see, why, how my dark entire corrupted me; the mirror in Café Moriarti, that salon and then my house, homed in on me each time I saw him. I saw him, he saw me, I saw within me, I saw my night black eyes. 

The monster was no one but me, is no one but me, in the last speck of humanity left in me, I am narrating this tale to you. I am doing what I have to, in order to end this madness; I chose to be Satan's worst creation, now I am taking off for the homecoming journey. The red door to doom, open and welcoming it seems, for I have sinned a lot, more than I can correspond to, in my entire soul-span. 

Now that I have unburdened my heavy heart, I can adorn my chariot, my coffin for my final journey into what I always wanted, darkness. My last cigarette tells me my time has come, as my stick burns to the ground, so do I!       

Let the silhouetted rain, rain serenity on my scarred persona.    

SCARRIBUS RANG

Hill-Valley apartment No. 666