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**11-07-2016, 12:21 AM**

'WiTcH DoCtOr' BEAR BRADDOCK | 'Torn'

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(play as you read)

A hole is torn,
As if being reborn,
Open the wound wider,
Cold reality closes in tighter.

Senses tingle inside,
Right to left, left to right,
Every one feeling shaken,
Cutting so delicious when over-taken.

Front to back, back to front,
Slicing with objects less brunt,
Blade calling out sharpened fuss,
Commotion calls leaking out human puss.

Draining fluid into a grail,
Until it fills as much as a pail,
Warm desire, do not try to repair,
After Warfare, be left with a dry tear.

Prelude ||

There is no shame in sitting on your thrown of lies, Eliza. There is no judgement to be had for feigning victory, Michael. There is no familiar sting to abandoning your commitments, Nostalgia. Like there is nowhere to hide when I run directly at you. There is no denying the items you say in the heat of the moment. There is no need for denial. Only trial and error. An error in taking each breath given for granted. Trails in the tone with which you say half-truths so slanted. No matter the name, the mistake, or the purpose... three of you remain without a cure for your many curses. The Witch Doctor can brew a cauldron of changing tides, but first he will need three souls willing to be sacrificed.

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Scene ||

A woman walking in a nightgown in the late hour of night is seen. Her expression is blank, her feet bare, and her hair a tangled mess. She stops and looks behind her, as if expecting to get caught. Up a dimly lit flight of stairs she slowly steps. Getting to the top flight she starts to hear moaning. A painful groveling moan, then another, and another. Cautiously down a hall she walks. Putting her ear to the wall, her faces clinches with the moaning tone changes. Many moans begin to carry and seem closer. She feels something on her face and jerks back to the center. Both sides of the wall lined with protruding hands of all shapes and sizes reaching through the wall. Checking her vision, rubbing her eyes to make sure it is valid; she feels an eerie comfort as the moans stop. She whispers to herself to calm her nerves.

Who are all these people, and why are they trapped? What about Spot?

Walking through the hands that try to grab her, she gets to the end and realizes there is no door, hall, or other opening after. The dead end causes her to feel the wall, then turn back. At the end she just came from she notices a man in his underwear, standing smiling back. A trap door under her feet opens, she screams being dropped down a shoot and onto a pile, she feels a finger on her hand start, and braces realizing it is a decaying collection of limp dismembered body parts. Screaming and getting off the top as fast as she can, something from the darkness behind grabs her and drags her backward with command. She begs and pleads for it to stop. Finally, sitting upright and against a wall she catches her breath. A table next to her with different sized saw blades makes her hold it again. The creature that took her, shows an example, putting a round blade in its mouth, and clinching until it pokes through its cheeks. It hands her one and nods with a demented flesh torn smile. Carefully she puts it in her mouth scared of letting it down and the consequence. Without clinching she holds it in her mouth and looks back up. The creature claps wildly and dances in a circle. It picks up another blade, and takes off part of its own ear. It hands her the same one, and nods for her to adhere. Pulling back her hair, as tears fill her eyes; it takes the blade back, then slices her head without compromise. Slipping steadily until the fluids catch up, the top of her head slides off grotesquely to the floor with a wallop.

Her head hits the floor as her eyes widen, the last bit of blood pumping through her head, as her body's new top gushes like Poseidon. The creature hears a noise above on the next floor, it puts the blade down, and runs up to play some more. A teenage boy is now seen calling out for his sister, not knowing where she went, or the danger he could soon enter. It moves quickly, but cannot be seen, the creature is too familiar with its murderous surroundings.

Tess, this isn't funny, don't try to scare me! I know you are just playing and then you'll jump out and grab me! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!

But a different vibe was there, not the one when she played, but a feeling he got once before, earlier, when his dog ran away. Rounding a doorway and stepping into an old kitchen, lights off completely, but off in the corner he can see something glisten. Curiosity fuels his aching needs to know, despite his conscience telling him, "oh hell the fuck no". Closer and closer, until he notices "Spot", the dog they went looking for, with a large machete in its top. Hearing steps behind him, his shock is now quickened. A few more steps, sure something is following, he tucks into a small nook, trying to avoid being heard or even swallowing. Steps end in the dark just beside him, then continue on until he can no longer listen. Out carefully, he looks toward where they went and turns, the creature picks him up, and bends him over firm.

Touching the soft skin under his shirt on his back, it grabs him by the neck, and pulls out a razor to attack. The boy cries out but no angels can save him, real or pretend, the creature swipes his neck, and baths in his end. A hesitation by the beast, another sound can be deciphered, a knock at the front door; the children’s father irritated and trifled. It moves strangely over, and peaks out the looker too, the dad shakes his head, upset the kids would be so rude. The creature opens the door, the man takes a step in surveying the situation, the creature pops out spreading its small wings, and the man screams, then falls from hesitation. On top of him just like that, it growls as chills it sends, the man pushes it off, and begins to call out for his kin.

Danny!? Tess!? WHERE ARE YOU!? ARE YOU HURT!?

He walks with urgency up the steps not looking down, afraid of what he might witness, if he turns around. Not wanting to become a victim, he clinches his fist tight, balancing his panic with intuition. Wondering what type of monsters his little ones found, his mouth goes dry, hearing up ahead a sickening growl.

Up to the hallway, he encounters the man in his underwear, smiling still, and then pushing him violently in a stumbling descent over the stairs. Back to the floor, too injured to move, the man’s eyelids flicker, as he gasps to regain his senses soon. Thinking about where the kids could be, knowing deep within, that somewhere they would probably bleed. His peace has come knowing that soon he will join, however disposed of, that lone thought brings him joy. The creature and big man from both sides converge, a rumble and a thump, the last thing the man could observe. Off to another type of reality, a somber permanent cure, one where creatures and beasts don't act so defamatory.

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Conclusion ||

Violence can lure,
What you three can never endure,
So hollow but it is a means,
To teach lessons that need to be.

Your souls cry out,
To the Heavens they can shout,
They want to be mended,
Full again, like before they were lended.

So ownership I have,
Peace with your maker won't be had,
Of the teachings you cannot provide,
To make them whole Wednesday Night.

A beautiful tormented spell,
From a demon rising out of his dark shell,
But one that can save your last rights,
Even if it is only to be torn open in this fight.

Fade ||

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