Sunday, March 1, 2015

Sub Pub Music - Creep (Massive Dark Ambient Sinister Orchestral Horror) ..Things rarely mentioned 3/1/15

This is part of an album and there are rumors about how it was recorded. But we won't discuss that now. We're here for other things. This is an intermission.... a break from our vampire drama. Night-folk are really quite tame. They're not like ghouls. They're not like zombies. Those of you who've been with us for a while know that. Real terror lies elsewhere, in souls quite human, though contorted into strange shapes. Every city has them. But they hide. And the thing is... you don't want to look.

Witness 'the ice cream man.' Listen for his bell. Ah, there it goes, serenading children on hot summer nights. The route is very special. And the schedule rather late. If you live on a block with lots of people, don't look for 'the ice cream man.' Crowds frighten him. Monsters have phobias to, you know. He frequents leafy lanes on the outskirts of town, with wide lawns, old trees and large stone houses. Most people go in after dark, breathing in the artificially cooled air. It's expensive to retrofit old houses. Occasionally there might be a lawn party, but they're around back and far away. What with all the trees, there's not much light. Street lamps can only do so much. 

Sometimes a child comes out. Every place has it's loners. Which is not to say they have no friends. But certain individuals relish the dark and the quiet. A door opens... a side door... leading from a small library out to a grey stone porch. A child comes out... a little girl, but not that little... perhaps eleven. She crosses the lawn, taking care lest she trip on tree roots. Lights are for flower beds, or driveways. There are none here. Only shadows. A boy once sailed from the heights of that tree, smashing his skull on a bough toward the bottom and thus already dead by the time he hit the grass. But that was in nineteen twenty one. The current family knows nothing of it, though his spirit flickers through the grounds on warm summer nights. Fireflies say hello. So do the bats. The eleven year old girl runs right by him, noticing nothing more that a cool breeze and an exceptionally dark shadow. He whispers a greeting, though she's deaf to it. 

There by the curb is the truck... an old, small, white, ice cream truck. There's no roof. The driver sits out in the open with a big freezer in back. It was once a GOOD HUMOR truck, but that was long ago. Tiny, exterior lights up toward the top make it glow... an oasis of soft illumination on an other wise still, dark street. Not even a car goes by. Little gnats swarm 'round the lights. The man stands there in his while pants and white shirt, smiling a well rehearsed smile.He has a hoarse voice and thick, leathery skin. His hands are boney. His nails shiny and thick.

What is thee wish? - he says... The girl asks for a choco-taco. He opens one of the thick freezer doors and hums a little tune. A gnat bites the girl's forearm. She slaps it away and stands there politely waiting for her treat. But when he turns around there's no wrapped confection in his hand, but rather a wadded up rag dowsed with chloroform. Before she can resist, he grabs the back of her head and jams the dirty cloth into her face. She gasps... but that's good, for it forces the intoxicating fumes deep into her lungs. Then she lashes out, scratching his arms and kicking her feet. He twists her neck. Something cracks. Oh, it's not broken, but she realizes he could do that too, so she stops. Eight heartbeats later the girl goes limp... not dead... just drugged.... She smells his acrid stench, as he picks her up. And she hears a night bird sing, as he forces her body into the freezer through the small, open door. A wrist breaks... a clavicle ... Pelvis cracks a little. Oh, she feels the pain. Chloroform numbs it a little, but just a little. And the ice cream man's gotta do what he gotta do to get her in...Soon she's all scrunched up on top of a thick, canvas drop cloth. Then he slams the door, locking her in with another almost dead body.

But they ain't gonna die in there. He has to get 'em 'home' first. So the ice cream man hops in front, shuts the door, pops out his two glass eyes and puts 'em in a box he got. Feels better without 'em. Sees better two.

Then he starts the engine and drives away. Streets all quiet... few crickets, maybe, but that's it. Blue, TV lights vibrate from windows here and there.... maybe the noise of an old central air conditioning unit that needs replacing. No kids. No people. No nothing. Just dark. Every so often a ghost... not many, but they're around.

Family goes - Where'd the girl go?.... Somebody says - Oh, she's watching TV in the little library...

And that's it.

Truck don't stop no more. It just goes. Little exterior lights blink out too...

It's easy to sneak away...

<more next time>


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