Apocalypse of Jude

Caul hops the barrier, saunters across the highway to hop the barrier on the other side. He picks his way through the singing grass towards the centuries old, decayed and burnt chapel ruins. He is aware of the broken graves that surround it, and though he knows the dead bones are harmless, he nonetheless feels death’s presence beginning to enclose around him, seeking to draw him into the empty chapel, and there promise him to reveal the way back to life.

He approaches the gaping doorway, the golden mistletoe hanging unconsciously in his fingers. The malevolent atmosphere swirling round the ruin scares him, but he enters, and picks out the seat of a broken alter that looks out through the broken wall into the graveyard with its gnarled, burnt branches of dead trees. As he stares at them, the frayed ends of dying hallucinogens draw lewd shapes from them in his mind. He hopes his eyes will penetrate the hallucinations to open the world beyond to descend into from which to bring back the life which he seeks. But there continues to be nothing more than perpetual shape-shifting distortions. Then his eyes pick out the shape of a half exposed skull and corresponding skeleton. On a farm somewhere not far away, the co co rico crow of a cock pierces the still dawn air. Caul pulls back, suddenly terrified, the shock of death’s reality terminating his attempted descent into its world. The mistletoe falls to the ground as he grabs his head with his hands. Shaking it, he looks again to confirm the fact of the unearthed skeleton. Rising quickly, his feet stumble through the ruined wall and over the dead man’s bones, as he scurries his way back through the long grass, slowing down when he is clear of them.

/those bones cant harm me/

From his pocket he draws his keys, jangling them in his left hand for comfort.

/time to run across the road again and play chicken/ /why did the acid head chicken cross the road/ /saw the other side of the road and said wow man got to check that out/ /but there was no life there/ /just death/ /how do you escape that death/ /who can make those dead bones breath again/ /what spirit/

He runs back across the mountain pass road and vaults the barrier, but drops his keys. Looking down at them as if surprised at their falling, his curiosity is caught, his eyes cocked like a raven after seeing something shiny.

/are these really the keys to life/

His knuckle grazes the bitumen as he bends to pick them up. He looks at them as they lie in his open hand.

/i mean without them id die sooner or later/ /but im going to die anyway/ /so what kind of security is that/ /if i lost them/ /who would i be/ /id be me without the things these keys represent/ /without all this false sense of security i have/ /without all this self-righteousness that i carry around with me/ /and without all my fantasies of destiny/ /i would just be me/ /but what would me be/

He rolls their weight in his hand and feels them between his fingers, sees the talisman of a broken, translucent and bulbous plastic heart, grooved subtly to hint a pelvis, acting as key ring.

/a broken heart/ /with no one to heal it/ /just death to claim it/ /no hope of resurrection/ /the fisher king can not heal his own wound/ /but the knight himself is wounded/ /and cannot be the healer/ /even if he wants to be/ /why havent i been able to see this/ /its my pride/ /my pride/

He stands in stillness, in sadness, in shock, as a dense bank of firm white clouds falls over the amphitheatre of folded rock, rushing their free flowing forms thickly into the basin, their white immensities turning pink as they begin to feel the burning intensity of the sun rising behind them.

/i couldnt of saved jude anyway/ /and didnt i just lose him/ /we are all doomed/

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 99