The bird swooped down from the orange dusk and landed atop a small gravestone. Six feet below, something was moving.
A man visciously stomped and clawed at his tiny cell, enbalming fluid bursting through his pores, being replaced by a cold, black liquid. The pain was unbearable; the dark figure in the casket kicked at fiberglass and plywood. Earth began spilling into the box as the enbalming fluid still gushed out in all directions.
He pushed at the door of the casket forcing a mound of dirt to build above. He quickly dug his way through the soil to the foul air above, collapsed lung not taking any of it. Not needing any of it. He attempted to scream, but only a drowned croak eeked through a crushed voice box.
The flesh of his fingers had been stripped away from the struggle below, revealing white bone and black blood. His shriveled skin and sunken eyes glimmered in the fading sun.
The hunger struck him next. So very hungry. The man snatched out, grabbing a large sewer rat and biting at it's torso. The vermon squealed and spasmed, dying between the dead man's teeth. He gnawed at the diseased creature and swallowed it down, turning his skin a brighter and more human color.
The skeletal demon of a man staggered about the cemetary feasting on rats and other nocturnal beasts. His muscles reforming, he began to walk at a semi-normal rate, tripping and stumbling every few minutes. He took a seat on a large marble slab and stared in awe at the sky as the new rain washed away the last of the preserving liquid from his skin.
A large black crow landed beside him, yet despite his insatiable hunger, he could not bring himself to harm this bird. As the crow gazed into his eyes a voice rang throughout his decayed, jellified brain. "You have been brought back to seek revenge," the voice said.
This frightened him, his now infantile intellect unable to comprehend what was happening. He quickly stood and crashed to the ground. He began crawling away, the bare bones of his fingers scraping against rock.
The crow flew over to the cemetary gates and waited as the corpse inched his way forward. A scruffy looking, drunken derelect leaned against the gates and vomited up a variety of cheap liquors. The smell of flesh was too much to resist. The dead man picked himself up and ran awkwardly towards the homeless man.
The drunk screamed out as the man visciously tore at his neck, chomping on flesh and slurping at blood. The hobo gave a last attempt at escape when the dead man grabbed his hair and slammed the back of his head against the cement floor. Skull fragments and grey matter splattered the sidewalk in a visceral spray.
The rain drenched them both as the living dead reached into the gaping hole in the homeless man's head and pulled out thick chunks of meaty brains, eagerly devouring the steaming meal. Ravenously he swallowed the man's insides while his own began to grow back. His insane mind reforming and taking in this violent act of cannibalism that he was committing. Unable to stop himself, he kept eating until his new stomach was unable to hold anymore.
The dead man began to remember things. First the bird came to mind. Then the coffin, then finally his name. Ozz. More painful memories came rushing back
He was being beaten by a group of young men. They were taking whatever they could from him as his conciousness slipped away. Ozz's eyes caught the sight of a man unloading a slug into his son's forehead. His son. These low life bastards were taking their lives for fifty bucks and a cheap watch.
Ozz snapped out of his daze and realized that his body and mind had been fully restored thanks to the poor bum who had given his life for the cause. The bird once again tried communicating with him again.
"Welcome back," the voice in his head said. Ozz darted his colorless eyes at the feathered beast and felt somewhat relaxed. The metallic taste of human blood still vibrant on his tongue, Ozz spoke.
"What's happening to me?"
"You have been chosen to avenge yourself and your little boy under my wing. He was young. Only nine years old," the crow spoke, sending images through Ozz's brain.
"Shut the fuck up," Ozz barked, biting his tongue and recieving a bitter taste of rot from the black blood. Ozz's fist clenched.
"Good. Get angry. You'll need that if you are to succeed. Back to your question, though, everything happens differently to different people. Some go berserk and go on killing rampages while others refuse to believe and forget their mission, drifting through eternity on earth. Some aren't even chosen by The Great Counsel, the ancient Arabics wrote a book that can call a Sacred Crow to duty on anybody who was murdered unjustly."
"Aren't all murders unjust," Ozz asked, his muscular, tattooed arms easing up.
"Are you serious?! You, whether you like it or not, you are about to commit some justified murders. Anybody who is chosen by The Great Counsel, will be fully forgiven by Heaven after their mission. The ones brought back by the Necronomicon, uh, the book I spoke of earlier, would be sent to Hell for eternity."
"How in the blue fuck am i supposed to find who did this," Ozz asked, his anger rising, his blood heating in his veins. Ozz raised a fist shattered a marble cube with the name Westlake written across it. The tar in his veins bubbled.
Deep in the sewers Ozz was slumped against a mildew covered wall, the sounds of cars and rain drowning out most everything else. His body was already beginning to go and the hunger was returning. He smoothed out a hooded Misfits sweatshirt he had stolen from a store window above with the back of his left hand, a cigarette he had stolen from his last meal in the right.
The pain in Ozz's stomach was growing more intense and he could feel himself getting weaker. He had to find food soon.
"They're close," the bird said, hopping up onto Ozz's shoulder. "Get up, we must get to there."
Ozz jumped to his feet. "Which way?"
"Up that ladder, then turn left. Run, they're moving fast."
Ozz jumped up the rungs swiftly and climbed furiously. Flinging the manhole cover away, he ran to his left. Very fast. At leat two times faster than Ozz had every gone before.
"Right there! In that car! Quickly now, stop them," The bird screamed as Ozz leapt into the air and landed on the roof of a yellow Oldsmobile Delta 88.
"Whoa, man. The fuckin' sky is fallin'," Tryq said, blowing out marijuana smoke and looking out the window. "A fuckin' bird must have died."
Murk laughed drunkenly, swerving to avoid a car as he barreled onto the freeway. "Bad drivers out, dude. Must be the full moon."
"Heh, yeah. 'Listen in awe and you'll hear him,' right?"
Ozz's bony hands gripped at roof as the car swerved and bucked along the road. He stuck his hand into the partially open window, grabbing at the passenger's ratty hair and pulling. The window shattered as Ozz pulled the man out of the car and onto the roof.
"What the fuck are you doin', man?! Put me back in," He pleaded as Ozz his chin and shoulder, ripping them away from each other. Blood whipped through the air as Ozz sucked and gnawed at the man's stump of a neck.
The car screeched to a halt, flinging Ozz and friend a good thirty feet from the car. Murk stepped out to the shoulder of the road and glanced at the blood streaked roof. Feeling sick, he slowly walked toward the two motionless men in front of him.
"Jesus Christ, Where'd the fuck you come from? Tryq? You okay?" Murk reached down and turned his friend over, revealing a headless neck covered in bite marks.
Faster than lightning, Ozz jumped up and grabbed Murk by the neck. "You. You stabbed me," Ozz dragged the man to the Oldsmobile and shoved him back inside. "Don't you fucking move."
"Look, buddy, I don't know who the hell you are, bu-" He was cut short by a quick jab to the throat. Ozz clenched his hair and began slamming his head with the car door.
"I did not give you permission to speak, fuck face." Ozz threw him back into the car and popped the lock of the trunk. Inside the trunk was cluttered with old Fangoria magazines and school textbooks. Nothing of interest. Except the gas can. Ozz began pouring the flammable substance on and inside the car, pulling out a box match sticks which he had taken from the derelect.
"You killed me and my son. Your two friends, stumpy over there and the other shot my son! Now you will pay for your sins." Ozz reached into the car and lit the match on Murk's forehead. "Burn, baby."
Ozz slammed the door and tossed the match into the car. As flames swallowed it up a smile stretched across Ozz's face.
The crow hopped in silence as Ozz walked down the sidewalk. A tune ringing through Ozz's head as he walked, "Brains for dinner, brains for lunch, brains for breakfast, brains for brunch. Brains for every single meal, why can't we have some guts?" The dead man licked at his lips, removing the last lingering remnants of blood and flesh from the cooked man in the car. His fingers still bare, still stripped.
"The sun is rising. You must seek shelter."
Within the dank sepulcher Ozz sat. Memories of life rush back faster than bullets kill.
"So why can't I be in the sun," Ozz asked the crow.
"Ever seen a chunk of roadkill that has been lying out during a summer day? That's what will happen to you."
"Ah. You are a wise one my little friend. Where do you learn all this shit," he asked, standing up and looking glancing out a small window, watching the sun fall behind looming buildings.
"When you get to be as old as m- er, I suppose that won't be happening. Sorry. Anyway, as the years have rolled past me, I have been taught by many a people. Medicine men, wizards, satanists and, of course, The Council," the bird said while hopping toward a orange cockroach, grabbing it up and pecking away.
"Yeah, yeah... The Council. Tell me about them."
The crow dropped the bug and turned his attention back to the living dead man. "Well, The Great Council.... They are the ones who send us out, we Disciples of Raven that is. The Raven was the first, the Council saw the pain on earth and decided that those who go in horrible ways should be allowed revenge.
"The Raven is made of nothing but black crystal. It was sent out after a man named Jesus Christ was crucified by the Jewish ones. He was brought back on the day they call Easter. He, however, ignored his mission and chose to be a "savior" of sorts. A very selfish man."
"Hold up there, you're saying that Jesus was resurrected by a glass bird?! You must outta your skull."
"Oh no, it's all true. Anyway, back to the Council. Every hundred thousand years a new man is chosen. The Great Council is made up of the greatest men since the beginning of time," the crow fluttered his wings and flew up onto Ozz's shoulder.
"The best man of that specific time is chosen and brought down to The Chambers. The Chambers is where said man will spend out eternity, as part of the deciding group, The Great Council."
"Will I meet them? I mean, will I get to speak with The Council," Ozz asked standing up and opening the door, welcoming the new night.
"If you succeed, I will take you to them, you will meet and they will answer any more questions you have."
Ozz ran into the street and grabbed a handful of leather, pulling a biker backwards off his motorcycle, sending it crashing to the ground. "Hello. I'm going to need to borrow your bike."
"Fuck you, man," the biker said struggling to get a punch in at Ozz's face. The zombie grabbed at the flying fist and pulled it back down.
"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice in the matter." With that, Ozz grabs the man's neck, cutting off air and knocking him out cold.
The black Harley Davidson ripped through the blackness as the crow flew overhead, struggling to keep up. Ozz already knew where he was to go. The last man was in an old book store, the crow had told him. The Spider's Web.
As Ozz sped ever closer to his final destination, he couldn't help but think what he would do when he got there. Would he make him suffer, or would he end it quickly? Up another road and around a corner was a small occult book store. The lights were off, the place looked abandoned.
Ozz stepped off the bike and went in. The store was covered in broken shelves and scorched papers, a huge circle of black ash in the center.
A sound came from a door towards the back. Ozz walked to the door and turned the knob, a tiny bit of light shot up from down a flight of stairs and to the left. Ozz slowly walked down the steps, his pitch blood pumping. A door was cracked open in the corner, light pouring out.
Ozz stepped in and saw a man sitting at the end of a long corridor atop an old table, the rest of the room was covered with statues and skeletons. The man looked up from a book he was reading and spoke.
"Get out of here if you don't wanna die, bitch."
"Oh, I believe you've already taken care of that my friend. Now I'm here to return to favor," Ozz walked down the hall and noticed a long sword to right on the wall, gargoyles etched into the blade. Snatching it up, Ozzy looked at the man who had since stood up in took out a Desert Eagle .50 and aimed it at his head.
"Get the fuck out of here now or I'm gonna blow your goddamned head clean off your neck, you mother fucker." Ozz took another step forward and the man took one shot.
Faster than lightning, Ozz swung the blade upwards and knocked the bullet off course, smacking it against a wall and disappearing. Ozz ran up to the man and pinned him against a wall. He took the gun from his hand and through it across the room. He then dropped the sword to the floor, suddenly realizing the hunger in the pit of his stomach.
He pushed the man to the ground and grabbed either arm, pulling it up to his mouth. "What the fuck are you doing?! Get off me," the man screamed, pleading for his life.
Ozz drove his teeth into his arm as the the man screamed at the top of his lungs.
The living dead man feasted as if he hadn't eaten in years, and collapsed as the bitten man bled out and died.
A man visciously stomped and clawed at his tiny cell, enbalming fluid bursting through his pores, being replaced by a cold, black liquid. The pain was unbearable; the dark figure in the casket kicked at fiberglass and plywood. Earth began spilling into the box as the enbalming fluid still gushed out in all directions.
He pushed at the door of the casket forcing a mound of dirt to build above. He quickly dug his way through the soil to the foul air above, collapsed lung not taking any of it. Not needing any of it. He attempted to scream, but only a drowned croak eeked through a crushed voice box.
The flesh of his fingers had been stripped away from the struggle below, revealing white bone and black blood. His shriveled skin and sunken eyes glimmered in the fading sun.
The hunger struck him next. So very hungry. The man snatched out, grabbing a large sewer rat and biting at it's torso. The vermon squealed and spasmed, dying between the dead man's teeth. He gnawed at the diseased creature and swallowed it down, turning his skin a brighter and more human color.
The skeletal demon of a man staggered about the cemetary feasting on rats and other nocturnal beasts. His muscles reforming, he began to walk at a semi-normal rate, tripping and stumbling every few minutes. He took a seat on a large marble slab and stared in awe at the sky as the new rain washed away the last of the preserving liquid from his skin.
A large black crow landed beside him, yet despite his insatiable hunger, he could not bring himself to harm this bird. As the crow gazed into his eyes a voice rang throughout his decayed, jellified brain. "You have been brought back to seek revenge," the voice said.
This frightened him, his now infantile intellect unable to comprehend what was happening. He quickly stood and crashed to the ground. He began crawling away, the bare bones of his fingers scraping against rock.
The crow flew over to the cemetary gates and waited as the corpse inched his way forward. A scruffy looking, drunken derelect leaned against the gates and vomited up a variety of cheap liquors. The smell of flesh was too much to resist. The dead man picked himself up and ran awkwardly towards the homeless man.
The drunk screamed out as the man visciously tore at his neck, chomping on flesh and slurping at blood. The hobo gave a last attempt at escape when the dead man grabbed his hair and slammed the back of his head against the cement floor. Skull fragments and grey matter splattered the sidewalk in a visceral spray.
The rain drenched them both as the living dead reached into the gaping hole in the homeless man's head and pulled out thick chunks of meaty brains, eagerly devouring the steaming meal. Ravenously he swallowed the man's insides while his own began to grow back. His insane mind reforming and taking in this violent act of cannibalism that he was committing. Unable to stop himself, he kept eating until his new stomach was unable to hold anymore.
The dead man began to remember things. First the bird came to mind. Then the coffin, then finally his name. Ozz. More painful memories came rushing back
He was being beaten by a group of young men. They were taking whatever they could from him as his conciousness slipped away. Ozz's eyes caught the sight of a man unloading a slug into his son's forehead. His son. These low life bastards were taking their lives for fifty bucks and a cheap watch.
Ozz snapped out of his daze and realized that his body and mind had been fully restored thanks to the poor bum who had given his life for the cause. The bird once again tried communicating with him again.
"Welcome back," the voice in his head said. Ozz darted his colorless eyes at the feathered beast and felt somewhat relaxed. The metallic taste of human blood still vibrant on his tongue, Ozz spoke.
"What's happening to me?"
"You have been chosen to avenge yourself and your little boy under my wing. He was young. Only nine years old," the crow spoke, sending images through Ozz's brain.
"Shut the fuck up," Ozz barked, biting his tongue and recieving a bitter taste of rot from the black blood. Ozz's fist clenched.
"Good. Get angry. You'll need that if you are to succeed. Back to your question, though, everything happens differently to different people. Some go berserk and go on killing rampages while others refuse to believe and forget their mission, drifting through eternity on earth. Some aren't even chosen by The Great Counsel, the ancient Arabics wrote a book that can call a Sacred Crow to duty on anybody who was murdered unjustly."
"Aren't all murders unjust," Ozz asked, his muscular, tattooed arms easing up.
"Are you serious?! You, whether you like it or not, you are about to commit some justified murders. Anybody who is chosen by The Great Counsel, will be fully forgiven by Heaven after their mission. The ones brought back by the Necronomicon, uh, the book I spoke of earlier, would be sent to Hell for eternity."
"How in the blue fuck am i supposed to find who did this," Ozz asked, his anger rising, his blood heating in his veins. Ozz raised a fist shattered a marble cube with the name Westlake written across it. The tar in his veins bubbled.
Deep in the sewers Ozz was slumped against a mildew covered wall, the sounds of cars and rain drowning out most everything else. His body was already beginning to go and the hunger was returning. He smoothed out a hooded Misfits sweatshirt he had stolen from a store window above with the back of his left hand, a cigarette he had stolen from his last meal in the right.
The pain in Ozz's stomach was growing more intense and he could feel himself getting weaker. He had to find food soon.
"They're close," the bird said, hopping up onto Ozz's shoulder. "Get up, we must get to there."
Ozz jumped to his feet. "Which way?"
"Up that ladder, then turn left. Run, they're moving fast."
Ozz jumped up the rungs swiftly and climbed furiously. Flinging the manhole cover away, he ran to his left. Very fast. At leat two times faster than Ozz had every gone before.
"Right there! In that car! Quickly now, stop them," The bird screamed as Ozz leapt into the air and landed on the roof of a yellow Oldsmobile Delta 88.
"Whoa, man. The fuckin' sky is fallin'," Tryq said, blowing out marijuana smoke and looking out the window. "A fuckin' bird must have died."
Murk laughed drunkenly, swerving to avoid a car as he barreled onto the freeway. "Bad drivers out, dude. Must be the full moon."
"Heh, yeah. 'Listen in awe and you'll hear him,' right?"
Ozz's bony hands gripped at roof as the car swerved and bucked along the road. He stuck his hand into the partially open window, grabbing at the passenger's ratty hair and pulling. The window shattered as Ozz pulled the man out of the car and onto the roof.
"What the fuck are you doin', man?! Put me back in," He pleaded as Ozz his chin and shoulder, ripping them away from each other. Blood whipped through the air as Ozz sucked and gnawed at the man's stump of a neck.
The car screeched to a halt, flinging Ozz and friend a good thirty feet from the car. Murk stepped out to the shoulder of the road and glanced at the blood streaked roof. Feeling sick, he slowly walked toward the two motionless men in front of him.
"Jesus Christ, Where'd the fuck you come from? Tryq? You okay?" Murk reached down and turned his friend over, revealing a headless neck covered in bite marks.
Faster than lightning, Ozz jumped up and grabbed Murk by the neck. "You. You stabbed me," Ozz dragged the man to the Oldsmobile and shoved him back inside. "Don't you fucking move."
"Look, buddy, I don't know who the hell you are, bu-" He was cut short by a quick jab to the throat. Ozz clenched his hair and began slamming his head with the car door.
"I did not give you permission to speak, fuck face." Ozz threw him back into the car and popped the lock of the trunk. Inside the trunk was cluttered with old Fangoria magazines and school textbooks. Nothing of interest. Except the gas can. Ozz began pouring the flammable substance on and inside the car, pulling out a box match sticks which he had taken from the derelect.
"You killed me and my son. Your two friends, stumpy over there and the other shot my son! Now you will pay for your sins." Ozz reached into the car and lit the match on Murk's forehead. "Burn, baby."
Ozz slammed the door and tossed the match into the car. As flames swallowed it up a smile stretched across Ozz's face.
The crow hopped in silence as Ozz walked down the sidewalk. A tune ringing through Ozz's head as he walked, "Brains for dinner, brains for lunch, brains for breakfast, brains for brunch. Brains for every single meal, why can't we have some guts?" The dead man licked at his lips, removing the last lingering remnants of blood and flesh from the cooked man in the car. His fingers still bare, still stripped.
"The sun is rising. You must seek shelter."
Within the dank sepulcher Ozz sat. Memories of life rush back faster than bullets kill.
"So why can't I be in the sun," Ozz asked the crow.
"Ever seen a chunk of roadkill that has been lying out during a summer day? That's what will happen to you."
"Ah. You are a wise one my little friend. Where do you learn all this shit," he asked, standing up and looking glancing out a small window, watching the sun fall behind looming buildings.
"When you get to be as old as m- er, I suppose that won't be happening. Sorry. Anyway, as the years have rolled past me, I have been taught by many a people. Medicine men, wizards, satanists and, of course, The Council," the bird said while hopping toward a orange cockroach, grabbing it up and pecking away.
"Yeah, yeah... The Council. Tell me about them."
The crow dropped the bug and turned his attention back to the living dead man. "Well, The Great Council.... They are the ones who send us out, we Disciples of Raven that is. The Raven was the first, the Council saw the pain on earth and decided that those who go in horrible ways should be allowed revenge.
"The Raven is made of nothing but black crystal. It was sent out after a man named Jesus Christ was crucified by the Jewish ones. He was brought back on the day they call Easter. He, however, ignored his mission and chose to be a "savior" of sorts. A very selfish man."
"Hold up there, you're saying that Jesus was resurrected by a glass bird?! You must outta your skull."
"Oh no, it's all true. Anyway, back to the Council. Every hundred thousand years a new man is chosen. The Great Council is made up of the greatest men since the beginning of time," the crow fluttered his wings and flew up onto Ozz's shoulder.
"The best man of that specific time is chosen and brought down to The Chambers. The Chambers is where said man will spend out eternity, as part of the deciding group, The Great Council."
"Will I meet them? I mean, will I get to speak with The Council," Ozz asked standing up and opening the door, welcoming the new night.
"If you succeed, I will take you to them, you will meet and they will answer any more questions you have."
Ozz ran into the street and grabbed a handful of leather, pulling a biker backwards off his motorcycle, sending it crashing to the ground. "Hello. I'm going to need to borrow your bike."
"Fuck you, man," the biker said struggling to get a punch in at Ozz's face. The zombie grabbed at the flying fist and pulled it back down.
"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice in the matter." With that, Ozz grabs the man's neck, cutting off air and knocking him out cold.
The black Harley Davidson ripped through the blackness as the crow flew overhead, struggling to keep up. Ozz already knew where he was to go. The last man was in an old book store, the crow had told him. The Spider's Web.
As Ozz sped ever closer to his final destination, he couldn't help but think what he would do when he got there. Would he make him suffer, or would he end it quickly? Up another road and around a corner was a small occult book store. The lights were off, the place looked abandoned.
Ozz stepped off the bike and went in. The store was covered in broken shelves and scorched papers, a huge circle of black ash in the center.
A sound came from a door towards the back. Ozz walked to the door and turned the knob, a tiny bit of light shot up from down a flight of stairs and to the left. Ozz slowly walked down the steps, his pitch blood pumping. A door was cracked open in the corner, light pouring out.
Ozz stepped in and saw a man sitting at the end of a long corridor atop an old table, the rest of the room was covered with statues and skeletons. The man looked up from a book he was reading and spoke.
"Get out of here if you don't wanna die, bitch."
"Oh, I believe you've already taken care of that my friend. Now I'm here to return to favor," Ozz walked down the hall and noticed a long sword to right on the wall, gargoyles etched into the blade. Snatching it up, Ozzy looked at the man who had since stood up in took out a Desert Eagle .50 and aimed it at his head.
"Get the fuck out of here now or I'm gonna blow your goddamned head clean off your neck, you mother fucker." Ozz took another step forward and the man took one shot.
Faster than lightning, Ozz swung the blade upwards and knocked the bullet off course, smacking it against a wall and disappearing. Ozz ran up to the man and pinned him against a wall. He took the gun from his hand and through it across the room. He then dropped the sword to the floor, suddenly realizing the hunger in the pit of his stomach.
He pushed the man to the ground and grabbed either arm, pulling it up to his mouth. "What the fuck are you doing?! Get off me," the man screamed, pleading for his life.
Ozz drove his teeth into his arm as the the man screamed at the top of his lungs.
The living dead man feasted as if he hadn't eaten in years, and collapsed as the bitten man bled out and died.