He summoned Pan until the darkness of
chaos appeared, or a demonic counterfeit
in vague and monstrous shapes. Crouching
naked in a corner, stripped of magician's
robes, he is haggard and wild-eyed, gibbering
in tongues; chained to the spirit of fear, a mere
reflection of his former commanding self.
He descends into the deeper emptiness of
the abyss, appearing to look upon the
sleeping ocean, waiting for it to awaken,
hoping to hear the bell of the God's realm,
yet knows the Old Ones are locked away,
senile from neglect, dead or dying in a
labyrinth of sewers rotting beneath the city.
Still in a trance, the mystic departs to
the domain of the pagan dead, stars
looking downwards with a holy glance.
Copyright © 2005, Alexis Child. All Rights Reserved.
Previously Published in:
Tales of the Talisman Magazine
Vol. 1, Issue 4--March 2006
& Featured in The Horror Zine
April issue, 2015
"Let it endure forever--those whose end cannot be"
--Carl McCoy
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reproduced, or used for any other purpose without permission of the Author.