OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26 
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Post by OLOS on Jul 18, 2012 22:47:40 GMT -5
[Unless specified, this account will not consistently refer to any one person. The first person designation could belong to any Ghost or Phantom. Demolition Lovers will be indicated as such.
Posts for this account will be co-written by Arson Anthem and Incendiary Aftermath.]
*The early morning air is almost cool - only 80 degrees in the shade, if there had been any. The path to the mailbox is well worn and familiar. I haven't been here before, but many others have and I know them as well as I know myself. 'Love', it says, and 'I Forgive U.' I am not here for forgiveness. The silk petals of my plastic flower are as red as blood, though I know it will fade soon enough. The flower joins hundreds of others, and I bow my head reverently before turning away.*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Jul 20, 2012 11:20:59 GMT -5
*Jagged rock presses against the soles of my shoes. The city shines below me, a white stain of cancer on the horizon. A shard of bone, pushing up through the flesh of the earth. My jacket flaps in a gust of wind, and I raise one arm towards the city, palm up. On either side my fellow Ghosts do the same. We hold position for one minute, two, three. We send our souls outward, reaching towards the bleak white walls, lending our strength to our gods, if they live. We raise our arms higher, hands still open but pointing now towards the sky.* Daggers up to Heaven, *I say.* /Daggers up to Heaven/ *the Ghosts echo.*
*We leave.*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Jul 21, 2012 21:00:49 GMT -5
*It's blissful, the feeling of release one gets from a ceremony. The pain fades and numbness enthralls us, attempting to dull out the impurity. We raise our arms like daggars, and exit once the Ghosts finish their chant. The Phantoms exit soon after, and we make a path for their holiness.* Someone save us. *A phantom turns to me and grabs hold of my wrists, releasing me of my sins.* Heaven help us. *He replies to me.*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Jul 23, 2012 15:25:25 GMT -5
*The halls are abuzz with hushed voices and reverent whispers. The word is passed from Phantom to Ghost, but only sparingly; we trust our brethren absolutely, but nothing must escape our grounds except that which is planned. Only the worthy must find their way to the truth. The Ghosts will know as much as any of us as events unfold, but not before then. They understand the need for silence just as they understand the need for pain and desolation. The churches of old said suffering was the path to righteousness, and in a select few ways they were correct. But when I place my hand on the bowed head of a Ghost as she offers a bowl filled from her own veins, I know the meaning is not in the quality of the suffering. Life is not length, variety, or quality. It is intensity.*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Jul 23, 2012 23:10:12 GMT -5
Soon now. The first gathering has been summoned. The first departure is arranged. The first return is anticipated.
Such glorious work.
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Jul 24, 2012 22:05:46 GMT -5
I don't believe it is in our power to judge those not on our path. Rather, it is our job to purify and teach. Purification is a process not easily passed, and yes, there will be transcendence. Praise the Four! Praise Helena! The time is soon upon us.
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Jul 26, 2012 22:08:29 GMT -5
*We held a vigil for our brothers and sisters soon to venture forth. The ceremony lasted from the stroke of midnight until the breaking of the dawn, just as we will bring this land out of its darkness and into the light. No fewer than five offerings were made; pale faces shining in the glow of the candles, they emerged from their weeks of solitude into one moment of glory, without even voices to speak. They were not of our ranks, of course; how could we hope to demonstrate such sacrifice, we, who have already shed the pollution of the heathen world of our own free will? No, their cleansing was complete in a way even ours could not be - their purification began when we took them from their corrupt lives, and offered them a righteous death. Their corpses lead the march, now, and our brethren bring the gospel.
All hail.
Tomorrow it begins.*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Jul 28, 2012 0:41:01 GMT -5
A perfect site for our first performance. The participants presented us with no particular hardship, and we Ghosts carried out the ritual with practiced ease. The first message is writ in the bodies, now, for those who have eyes and mind to read it. One hundred carefully chosen, their homes now empty. I can taste the mourning in the night breeze, though surely there are none yet to mourn. The ninety five were offered as executions, kneeling, gifted with two bullets apiece to speed them on their way. Their bodies lie atop one another, a mountain of sanctified flesh.
Before them stand the five, chosen singly for a greater honor. Lashed to upright posts they wait in a row, shirts open and chests marked with a 1, 2, 3, or 4 - all except the leader, on the foremost post. His chest bears a lightning struck spider, an American Widow, such as only the highest of the Order are permitted to mark themselves with. The five are granted no bullets; something far more elegant is their due. A stake to the heart, for every boy and girl.
Only one thing varies: the frontrunner, the man with the highest of honors, is lashed not to a solitary post but to one with a second bar. To this bar is his arm secured, so that he might point the way - though not to any physical location, not yet. Over his head we've lovingly draped a hood, white with black circles for dead eyes. We step back, form a ring, and recite the final supplications. All is ready. All is waiting. The first step has been taken.
*We depart*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Aug 12, 2012 15:06:42 GMT -5
And now the second. Another performance set perfectly against the sunset and irradiated desert. The sands push against us as we work. Our masterpiece slowly forming. A sculpture made of flush, and blood.
One hundred minus ten piled together with the chosen five propped up. The missing ten, scattered equidistant, a mile apart, forming a perfect circle from the pile of sacrifices. They ran, and were met with a clap of thunder to their back. Old scars on their bodies now blend with the new, and the sun sets over this pleasing scene. It is only through demolition that we can achieve true peace. The second step to enlightenment has been taken.
*We depart*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Aug 16, 2012 11:59:48 GMT -5
The flock has begun to gather. Slowly but surely, the clarion call of our Revelations draws them in. We see, and it is Good.
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Aug 26, 2012 10:38:44 GMT -5
*The great play. The life and death of the stage, no less real than of the waking reality. Our hundred are gathered, lead like sheep to the slaughter. A few were knowledgeable this time, and were recognized as the pilgrims they are; we offered them a longer road to salvation, and they accepted. Their places in the ritual were not difficult to re-fill - and, after all, they are the reason for our pains. If all were pilgrims, the gospel would not need to be spread.*
*The offering was made outside the opera, the offered were cleansed and arrayed throughout the balcony seats within. On the stage were the five great actors, arrayed in borrowed suits and fine gowns. The leader, he of the Widow, holds an announcement printed on thick cream paper. "The Beautiful Death: A Spanish Lovestory," it proclaims in swooping letters. The play is outdated, many years old, but would not be amiss even in these corrupted days. Rainbow light dances over all, courtesy of the gleaming chandelier reflecting the desert light.*
*The burning light of the desert transforms our offering, even as the burning light of our purpose transforms our brothers and sisters.*
*We depart*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Aug 26, 2012 10:40:03 GMT -5
*I do not depart*
*I wait. I will burn, but I will burn with the blessing of the Phantoms, and with the blessing of Helena. I wait.*
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OLOS
Drac chow
Posts: 26
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Post by OLOS on Sept 14, 2012 22:23:30 GMT -5
*A new day, a new offering. The time goes so quickly. Far from the Opera now, northwest of the white cancer stain of the city. The very name of the place holds beauty - Sunset Holiday Ranch, a remnant of a simpler time, and reminder that the sun may still set on this travesty of modern life. Our sacrifices are gathered now from many places, at many times. No longer must a town be emptied. No longer are we dependent on such locations for our sermons. The ninety are arrayed the same, and the five upright once more, tied not to posts but to the sturdy legs of the metal windmill, its feet planted firmly in the earth. The horse icon mounted at its pinnacle is as rusted as the rest, and faces only west now, regardless of the wind. It is as though fate herself arranged this place solely for us.*
*The offering is made, the prayers stated.*
*We depart.*
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Yes, I'm still running - sort of. But it is lonely out here. Haven't seen anyone else for a while.
//