The Face of Death

8/4/2019 The Face of Death

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Copyright of Thom Boulton 2011 page 1

The Face of Death

written by T.S.E Boulton

a contemporary epic poem


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the direction of

the story

Part One The Landlady

page 3 to 7

Part Two The Discussion between Friends

page 8 to 13

Part Three The Gift

page 14 to 15

Part Four The Awakeningpage 16 to 19


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Part One The Landlady

He was stood waiting by the piano.

Tempted by the call of the keys... he began to tinker and tap

an unknown tune. Random key strokes made any aware that

he was not a musician,

still he continued to fiddle with the ivory beneath his fingers.

His imagination continued to wander,

partly due to the boring and grey room he was standing in,

uninviting and musty,

it was not a flavour for the palette and it begged for a dash of

paint or at least something to brighten its mood.

His attention soon came back to reality when he snapped

from his world

an alerting coughing sound, the trigger.

from the doorway.

The landlady returned from her business in the backroom.


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She was waiting for Ezra to stop touching her expensive but

mistreated instrument.

She waddled over, waddled due to her large size and short

height.

She reminded Ezra of the trolls of the faerie realms, caught in

their own grumpiness and desire to show some level of

importance.

He couldnt help but laugh...

...in his mind although he did manage to keep some restrain

just to ensure he didnt offend.

She continued her waddle and eventually reached her

destination, a desk, stationed in the living room by the bay

window.

Flicking several pages of a large guestbook the woman finally

arrived at Ezras booking and signed him in, twisting the book

towards him she motioned for him to sign as well.

As Ezra signed her book and as the plump landlady grunted

through her possible layer of crumbs perched on her top lip

or more likely a slight developing grey moustache, Ezra could

not help but query whether this was the right choice for him.


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He was desperate to keep privacy and this woman,

although her nose was not a distinguishing feature like themany other things she possessed, still had an air of noisiness

and curiosity about her.

He was of course relived and all doubts were put to rest

when the bearded lady finally opened her mouth to utter

some assemblance of words.

Ere, breakfast is at 6.00 sharp...

Ezra glared in anticipation of the next carefully crafted

sentence.

...and we dont like nobody sticking their nose in the

backroom, you dont go in there and we dont go in your

room. Is that fair?

The woman seemed to be puffed by the level of activeness

required to not only form a thought but then attempt to put

it into a verbal expression.

that will be fine


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Ezra nodded and prayed that she would stick to this

agreement.

He had work to do and the last thing he needed was prying

eyes and a poisoned dwarf to spoil his work.

Brushing past the creature he began his ascension up the

creaky and cracked stairs.

He could tell there was a running theme in the house.

After a short hike up the steps, Ezra came to his room.

A heavy brown door blocked the way before him.

He turned the handle and entered inside.

There were the bare essentials needed to exist, a bed... a

bedside table... and a lamp.


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There was also a small slit filled with glass that resembled

something like a window but that was not important, if he

had allowed himself to be fussy and dream of great lodgings

then he would need to also take the risk of being noticed,

and that was something he was not prepared to do.

He shut his door,

moved the bedside table across to block the door.

He knew this would not keep anyone out,

especially an ogre,

at the very least it would buy him some time.

With his room partially secure, Ezra opened his suitcase on

the bed and removed his treasured items.

A weeks worth of clothes, a few candles, a box of matches, a

carving knife and... the mirror.

placing his clothes back into the suitcase and sliding it to one

side of the room, near the window, Ezra checked each item

to ensure no damage had been occurred during

transportation.

Once he was sure everything was in the same state as it had

been when packed, he began his work.


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Part Two The Discussion between Friends

Ezra hung the mirror, his grail on the wall

on a broken rusty nail.

The need for perfection drove him insane,

Again and again, several minutes altering the mirrors hang,

until it was exactly straight.

He lit the candles and placed them around the room.

Not for mood but in various points, speaking to them in turn

and speaking strange words, gibberish.

Seck Tor Calla Mai

Once more he repeated...

Seck Tor- Calla Mai

..he removed one final item from his pocket, something he

had been holding close to him the entire time...

...in fear it would be misplaced or lost.

The last item with him was a small pot of black ink,

unmarked.


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He opened the ink pot and dipped fingers inside.

Smearing on to the mirror, not sure if hed find, what he oncediscovered...

...he created several splashes and marks.

Then he returned the lid onto the pot and placed the pot

safely on his suitcase.

he gazed at the mirror and waited.

It may have been seconds,

it may have been minutes...

for all Ezra knew it may have been hours.

As he begun to stare he lost himself in a hypnotic trance, losthimself to the ink stained mirror...

...though something happened, without human hand or any

apparent and known physical force... the ink began to shape.

It moved into bigger blotches and spots, and smudges and

dots... sliding up the mirror rather than down, blending

together and forming an image on the surface of the item.

It continued to gel and glide until it revealed a haunting and

harrowing image.


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A face had come to be on the mirror on the wall,

a face that resembled the dark image of a skull.

As it finished its movement and creation, Ezra smiled,

stepped forward

bowed

Like a spark of darkness, the face erupted into movement,

however this time the movement was not to create an image

but to give the appearance of a real face starring back at him,

moving its unformed eyes and its sharp and abyss like

mouth. The face was filled with anger, hatred and most

noticeably evilness.

No sooner had it stumbled into life the face talked, squawked

in a pitch unbearable, yet Ezra... resisted to fall, down the

wall and onto the floor, he resisted to stay strong.

Its chilling and distressing tone sounded like the softest ofcherubim angels and yet it was slurred and broken by the

crackling, dark and heavy tone of a demon from the blackest

thoughts of imagination.

It croaked at Ezra, demanding his attention...


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>

Ezra was unmoved by the voice, not afraid but excited.

Angel, I bring your avatar

here so you may share more

knowledge with me.

Ezra bowed once again and showed his humble side to the

apparition.

The face waited in anticipation for a response.

I do master, it is why I call

you. I seek your power

The face, if it were possible, smiled.


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Ezra leaned in, captured by the moment.

...and you have it master.Tell me what I must do to

gain your power...

The face began to morph into a larger image, the ink

spreading out and filling more of the mirror...

...and then in the dark voice it replied,

The face glared at Ezra, begging and yet demanding.

Ezra hesitated for the first time in the encounter.

Unsure but still not afraid he questioned the creature.

Blood? Why do you need

blood?

A simple question...

Ezra took several moments to make a decision. Deep down

inside of him was a grain of doubt that could not understand

what type of blood the creature desired... nor what would be

the source.


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Any blood master?

The face roared with craving...

Ezra suddenly became overwhelmed with feeling.

The being before him had offered him the power he sought.

A power that could be bought but with a gift of blood,

to obtain such a gift would result in him taking actions with

extreme consequence.

Yet... Ezra was sure that any sacrifice preformed for the man

in the mirror would simply be justified by the rewards gained.

Instead of allowing himself to be overcome by the request,

done in by the demand,

he simply nodded and gave himself willing.

No second thought, the doubt removed...

...Ezra would deliver.


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Part Three The Gift

crept, in shadows, knife tucked in pocket

there, in his vision, a blonde maiden admiring a locket,

alone,

and ready for the taking.

Lured down the alleyway by the need to go home,

no one watching except HIM on HIS throne.

Took the dagger.

Took the life.

Cut her throat with his knife.

Looked at her body, if only for a while,

drained the gift into a vial.

An act most vile...


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Crept, in shadows, returned to Master.

His yearning for power, growing ever faster.

Not allowing guilt to settle,

expelling guilt with his watered down reason,

if anything, the act he found pleasing...

gave him a taste of the power he craved...

waved goodbye to inhibition

achieved his mission.


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Part Four The Awakening

Ezra climbed his stairway to return to the room.

Return to the Creature.

Once there, he fidgeted, hesitated and contemplated what

would happen if he continued. It finally had sunk in.

Sunk deep into his conscience,

where it lay to rest, buried, a tombstone, forever to remind.

Despite this he continued, he was in,

he was ready,

and so he summoned the demon once again,

Seck Tor- Calla Mai

Seck Tor- Calla Mai

and it converged, into the face... blotched and dried,

crusty and shredded...

>


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Ezra opened the vial and poured the blood into his hand.

Smeared the blood on his hand across the shine and silver ofthe mirror.

Kept pouring the blood onto his hands to make the

creature...

...and then, he stopped.

The mirror covered in blood.

From the blood formed the face, no marks, no mentions, no

race or intentions... just the blank face...

Half blood

Half ink

It cracked a smile.

>

Ezra glared

Where is my power? Where

is the power you said would

be mine?

and the face laughed


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>

Its face darkened.

>

Ezra grabbed his hair, pulled, pulled it out.

WHAT!?

He screamed, he cried... he died a little inside.

What do you mean!? You

promised me power...!

I wanted your power!

I wanted to be like you!


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I... I... dont under...stand!

I... wanted...

Whats happened? Whats

happened to me?

This wasnt...

There was silence.


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end

The Face of Death

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