Post by Matt Knox "The Raven" on Jul 14, 2020 8:02:43 GMT -5
Some call it the Witching Hour. Others The Devil’s Hour In 1968, a Swedish film called it the Hour of the Wolf. It was the time between Three and Four in the morning. The veil between the spirit world and our own is said to be at it’s’ thinnest during this time. Sleep is deeper, Nightmares more vivid, and real. Spirits, Demons and all sort of things thought not to walk among God’s children seemed to walk and connect freely for that hour…
Those who would seek Satan’s favor through Black Magic would use this hour to conduct their rituals, believing them to be more effective..
For some though
It was just one more hour in purgatory
The horizon approached at a relentless clip while simultaneously being a lifetime away and even further from sight. The white Altima rushed to catch the horizon, to catch tomorrow if it could. The four cylinder motor was wound up as far as it could go without disintegrating from the strain. The speedometer read eighty eight. Matthew sat, gripping the steering wheel loosely. He thought briefly of the car collection in Monterey. He really, really missed the Jag lately..
British racing green, Cream coloured leather interior, Supercharged V8. It felt like a velvet glove on fire, gliding down the road at a hundred and thirty. Like some super sonic waltz on a hot asphalt dance floor..
“A way with words, and a thing for British works of art...that’s what made you so alluring, Matthew”
The voice caused him to twitch, he looked toward the passenger seat and saw her sitting there. Charlotte Knight. Charlie James. Time would tell which woman was truly present. Her appearance was all too familiar, and horrifying. Her scalp was split open, her neck and head turned in an unnatural position. Blood seemed to flow freely from the corners of her mouth, and down the side of her face
“That, and your unending appetite to fix whatever you deem broken. So endearing, so foolish.” A pause, the tortured entity retrieved a cigarette from the pack sitting in the cup holder and sparked up, not bothering to roll it’s window down. Matthew however, paid the courtesy “Such a good man..” it mocked the gesture
“What do you want?” He asked and for a moment, the interior was empty. Until he glanced back to Charlotte, who took a drag off the cigarette “What I always want from you Matthew. To watch you suffer”
A husky chuckle, and an inhale. An inhale soaked in blood followed by an exhale identical to a death rattle “And as usual you do not disappoint me, Matthew. I knew either way, your pain would bring me here with your foolish little vendetta. I was displeased at first, that you didn’t make your scene and traumatize those two girls, who already hate you...You know they do, don’t you love?”
He didn’t respond, instead checking his speed and averting his eyes off toward some far off place up the road. Maybe if he focused hard enough this would pass. It always did eventually. But tonight right now..he didn’t know if he could handle it
“Oh, the cold shoulder is it? In life, you were anything but cold to me. But I digress Matthew..darling, devil bird Matthew Knox” A giggle, a drag, a death rattle “She didn’t see you. You let Hope down, but...at least you’re both used to that. And then, you wound yourself further my darling. Acknowledging your selfishness...so willing to destroy their world because you’re angry at that whore’s father” she clicked her tongue disapprovingly “Not very heroic, Matthew”
“I’m not a hero” He snapped, and turned his head toward Charlotte, frustration etched on his face and an edge to his words. He exhaled through his nose, shaking the cobwebs and the fog. The seat was empty, like it always was. The voice however, it bit once more into his ears. Into his mind. Into what’s left of his heart “I know that better than most, Matthew...if you were..”
“We’d be together”
A hand freed from the steering wheel, rubbing his eyes. His headlights shone upon a sign on the side of the road, he barely had time to read it before it joined the haunted path behind him. Rest Area, 5 miles ahead. He decided in near an instant to pull off when he arrived. These incidents...episodes maybe. They didn’t happen so often anymore. He figured though, it would be safer if they continue not happening in a moving hunk of aluminum and carbon fiber.
His eyes burned and his vision was blurred. He had thankfully, mercifully gotten out of the car and now strode through the empty rest area, breathing in the air. To a passerby his tall silhouette would look as ghostly as the hour it strode in. He wore a black hoodie, blue jeans and an ancient pair of converse. Custom ordered for his size 16 feet. One of the many oddities he was bullied over as a child
Between big feet, not talking for much longer than the other children, being as pale as a rabbit in a snowstorm and just general oddities to his personality Matthew Knox was not a happy child. Depressing even for an orphan
“It’s what made you stand out to us. Same way Hope stood out to you” The gravely voice rang in his ears, bringing a small, sad smile to his features and filling him with a heavy bittersweet feeling. He came to a circle of picnic tables, and took a seat at one. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down, keeping his gaze on the table a moment. Not wanting to look “Then we got you home, and wasn’t a year before Irene’s cancer took her and we went from childless couple to me being a retiree single dad” that heavy chuckle filled the night air “And hell, you know the rest son…”
Matthew raised his gaze then to meet the deep blue eyes of his adopted father. Or rather, one deep blue eye and an empty socket filled with lead and gore. His skin gray and blotted however his snow white hair remained as Matt and countless others remembered it. Slicked back and perfectly neat in every way.
Hughbert Jeeves Alano, or as the American Association of Pro Wrestling knew him, “The Bruising Butler”. Matthew chuckled despite himself, despite the horrifying visual. As a boy, and all through the training his father gave him, that gimmick and name always got him laughing.
“It wasn’t easy. Being a dad, especially at my age boy. Especially to such a mean, violent giant of a know it all smart ass like you” the skin around his mouth threatened to tear away as a smile formed on his dead and rotten features “Hell, you still haven't stopped being angry. Internalizing every failure and turning it to a crusade” He leaned forward, one eye staring directly into Matthew’s soul. “Police never did find Marv, did they?”
A slight twitch in his facial features. He shook his head. The ghoul across from him paid him a nod, remaining silent “Is that where it stops with Thor?” Matthew scoffs, waving a dismissive hand “Of course not. It’s different”
“Is it? You’re blaming him for coming between you and those babies of yours. Like Marv took me from you, like you blamed Bohne for Charlotte. All over his mouth and starting baseless rumors” A scoff, full of condescension “Damn near forty years old and you still let rage guide you first. You want to blame anything for your losses Matthew, professional and personal it’s right there. Right where it;s always been, boy”
Matthew felt his eyes roll. He was suddenly Nineteen again, getting ready for his debut in Absolute Power Wrestling Organization. He knew better than this old man. Wise as he was he was still a relic of a bygone age. The business, nay the world had passed him by long ago. He went to stare the corpse down once more, only to find him replaced by a void of night air.
He stared blankly for a minute, before paying the void a nod “Never gets old, taking them away, does it?” He mumbled to it with an even and emotionless tone.A pause, the slight caress of a chilly night breeze upon his face. He finds himself leaning into it a moment before sneering and adding “Fuck you”
He stands and makes his way back to the car. He notes how still the highway still is for a moment, before opening the driver;s side door and sliding in. He reclines the seat all the way back, and closes his eyes. Baltimore was another half a day away. He wanted to rest and power through. Get back, and get to work..
He stirred awake suddenly. He felt her eyes upon him once more. A cursory glance out the window. The sky was graying but not quite was the dawn breaking. The witching hour is still upon him. Slowly, he sat up and turned his gaze to meet Charlotte’s.
“You sleep like you never want to wake up. Your dreams, the ones I won’t let you quit having...they stop you from resting, don’t they?” A chuckle. His blood ran cold as he listened to her. Fear, loathing, and wanting all at once rising from deep within “I called you the devil once, Matthew. Because you haunted me. My every waking moment, the way I haunt you now”
He closed his eyes as he felt ice cold fingers caress his face. Sliding from his cheek, to just under his chin. Longingly, he leaned into her touch. He reached up to hold onto her but found his fingers clutching at the stagnant air within the car “You know why I haunt you?” He remained silent, eyes closed. His hands grasping onto nothingness still. When her voice came, it was as a deep and husky whisper. A mix of raw lust and a burning hatred
“Because I blame you. For killing me” Ice ran through him once more. His limbs went heavy with dread. His breath caught in lungs that suddenly did not work. He gasped for life. For air. That caress suddenly a vice around his neck “You killed me. You killed your Mentor. You killed Marv with your own two hands even...I enjoyed that” Her voice. It sounded different. Layered, demonic. He clutched at his neck. Why did it burn?!
“You’re going to kill again. If not with your hands, with your Hubris. And with my wrath. Make them suffer, Matthew. Or I will truly be gone forever” He gasped more desperately now, his vision had started to darken. Suddenly her face filled his vision. Not the horrific corpse from before, but the pale, dark eyed and raven haired beauty he had fallen for. He felt the icy caress once more, now an unsettling accompaniment to the burning and eternal strangulation.
“Make the world pay, Like I used to Matthew. And then finally, when you’ve ruined them all like I’ve ruined you. When you’re as alone in life as I am in hell...I will let you join me”
His eyes flew open then. He shot into an upright position. The horn of a big rig ringing in his ears. He grasped at the door handle, pushing it open and falling onto his hands and knees out of the Altima. He took in deep, struggling breaths as he tried to slow his heart rate. The air..it tasted and smelled like salt
He rolled onto his back, and stared up at the dreary, Baltimore sky. His gaze turned left, and stared up at the Marriott sign. He took another moment to calm his breathing before sitting up. He reached out and grabbed onto the car door, using it for leverage and dragging himself vertical. He reached into his jeans pocket and produced his phone. He checked the time
Those who would seek Satan’s favor through Black Magic would use this hour to conduct their rituals, believing them to be more effective..
For some though
It was just one more hour in purgatory
3:01 AM
The horizon approached at a relentless clip while simultaneously being a lifetime away and even further from sight. The white Altima rushed to catch the horizon, to catch tomorrow if it could. The four cylinder motor was wound up as far as it could go without disintegrating from the strain. The speedometer read eighty eight. Matthew sat, gripping the steering wheel loosely. He thought briefly of the car collection in Monterey. He really, really missed the Jag lately..
British racing green, Cream coloured leather interior, Supercharged V8. It felt like a velvet glove on fire, gliding down the road at a hundred and thirty. Like some super sonic waltz on a hot asphalt dance floor..
“A way with words, and a thing for British works of art...that’s what made you so alluring, Matthew”
The voice caused him to twitch, he looked toward the passenger seat and saw her sitting there. Charlotte Knight. Charlie James. Time would tell which woman was truly present. Her appearance was all too familiar, and horrifying. Her scalp was split open, her neck and head turned in an unnatural position. Blood seemed to flow freely from the corners of her mouth, and down the side of her face
“That, and your unending appetite to fix whatever you deem broken. So endearing, so foolish.” A pause, the tortured entity retrieved a cigarette from the pack sitting in the cup holder and sparked up, not bothering to roll it’s window down. Matthew however, paid the courtesy “Such a good man..” it mocked the gesture
“What do you want?” He asked and for a moment, the interior was empty. Until he glanced back to Charlotte, who took a drag off the cigarette “What I always want from you Matthew. To watch you suffer”
A husky chuckle, and an inhale. An inhale soaked in blood followed by an exhale identical to a death rattle “And as usual you do not disappoint me, Matthew. I knew either way, your pain would bring me here with your foolish little vendetta. I was displeased at first, that you didn’t make your scene and traumatize those two girls, who already hate you...You know they do, don’t you love?”
He didn’t respond, instead checking his speed and averting his eyes off toward some far off place up the road. Maybe if he focused hard enough this would pass. It always did eventually. But tonight right now..he didn’t know if he could handle it
“Oh, the cold shoulder is it? In life, you were anything but cold to me. But I digress Matthew..darling, devil bird Matthew Knox” A giggle, a drag, a death rattle “She didn’t see you. You let Hope down, but...at least you’re both used to that. And then, you wound yourself further my darling. Acknowledging your selfishness...so willing to destroy their world because you’re angry at that whore’s father” she clicked her tongue disapprovingly “Not very heroic, Matthew”
“I’m not a hero” He snapped, and turned his head toward Charlotte, frustration etched on his face and an edge to his words. He exhaled through his nose, shaking the cobwebs and the fog. The seat was empty, like it always was. The voice however, it bit once more into his ears. Into his mind. Into what’s left of his heart “I know that better than most, Matthew...if you were..”
“We’d be together”
A hand freed from the steering wheel, rubbing his eyes. His headlights shone upon a sign on the side of the road, he barely had time to read it before it joined the haunted path behind him. Rest Area, 5 miles ahead. He decided in near an instant to pull off when he arrived. These incidents...episodes maybe. They didn’t happen so often anymore. He figured though, it would be safer if they continue not happening in a moving hunk of aluminum and carbon fiber.
3:13 AM
St Clair Rest Area
Bourbon, Missouri
His eyes burned and his vision was blurred. He had thankfully, mercifully gotten out of the car and now strode through the empty rest area, breathing in the air. To a passerby his tall silhouette would look as ghostly as the hour it strode in. He wore a black hoodie, blue jeans and an ancient pair of converse. Custom ordered for his size 16 feet. One of the many oddities he was bullied over as a child
Between big feet, not talking for much longer than the other children, being as pale as a rabbit in a snowstorm and just general oddities to his personality Matthew Knox was not a happy child. Depressing even for an orphan
“It’s what made you stand out to us. Same way Hope stood out to you” The gravely voice rang in his ears, bringing a small, sad smile to his features and filling him with a heavy bittersweet feeling. He came to a circle of picnic tables, and took a seat at one. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down, keeping his gaze on the table a moment. Not wanting to look “Then we got you home, and wasn’t a year before Irene’s cancer took her and we went from childless couple to me being a retiree single dad” that heavy chuckle filled the night air “And hell, you know the rest son…”
Matthew raised his gaze then to meet the deep blue eyes of his adopted father. Or rather, one deep blue eye and an empty socket filled with lead and gore. His skin gray and blotted however his snow white hair remained as Matt and countless others remembered it. Slicked back and perfectly neat in every way.
Hughbert Jeeves Alano, or as the American Association of Pro Wrestling knew him, “The Bruising Butler”. Matthew chuckled despite himself, despite the horrifying visual. As a boy, and all through the training his father gave him, that gimmick and name always got him laughing.
“It wasn’t easy. Being a dad, especially at my age boy. Especially to such a mean, violent giant of a know it all smart ass like you” the skin around his mouth threatened to tear away as a smile formed on his dead and rotten features “Hell, you still haven't stopped being angry. Internalizing every failure and turning it to a crusade” He leaned forward, one eye staring directly into Matthew’s soul. “Police never did find Marv, did they?”
A slight twitch in his facial features. He shook his head. The ghoul across from him paid him a nod, remaining silent “Is that where it stops with Thor?” Matthew scoffs, waving a dismissive hand “Of course not. It’s different”
“Is it? You’re blaming him for coming between you and those babies of yours. Like Marv took me from you, like you blamed Bohne for Charlotte. All over his mouth and starting baseless rumors” A scoff, full of condescension “Damn near forty years old and you still let rage guide you first. You want to blame anything for your losses Matthew, professional and personal it’s right there. Right where it;s always been, boy”
Matthew felt his eyes roll. He was suddenly Nineteen again, getting ready for his debut in Absolute Power Wrestling Organization. He knew better than this old man. Wise as he was he was still a relic of a bygone age. The business, nay the world had passed him by long ago. He went to stare the corpse down once more, only to find him replaced by a void of night air.
He stared blankly for a minute, before paying the void a nod “Never gets old, taking them away, does it?” He mumbled to it with an even and emotionless tone.A pause, the slight caress of a chilly night breeze upon his face. He finds himself leaning into it a moment before sneering and adding “Fuck you”
He stands and makes his way back to the car. He notes how still the highway still is for a moment, before opening the driver;s side door and sliding in. He reclines the seat all the way back, and closes his eyes. Baltimore was another half a day away. He wanted to rest and power through. Get back, and get to work..
3:48 AM
“You sleep like you never want to wake up. Your dreams, the ones I won’t let you quit having...they stop you from resting, don’t they?” A chuckle. His blood ran cold as he listened to her. Fear, loathing, and wanting all at once rising from deep within “I called you the devil once, Matthew. Because you haunted me. My every waking moment, the way I haunt you now”
He closed his eyes as he felt ice cold fingers caress his face. Sliding from his cheek, to just under his chin. Longingly, he leaned into her touch. He reached up to hold onto her but found his fingers clutching at the stagnant air within the car “You know why I haunt you?” He remained silent, eyes closed. His hands grasping onto nothingness still. When her voice came, it was as a deep and husky whisper. A mix of raw lust and a burning hatred
“Because I blame you. For killing me” Ice ran through him once more. His limbs went heavy with dread. His breath caught in lungs that suddenly did not work. He gasped for life. For air. That caress suddenly a vice around his neck “You killed me. You killed your Mentor. You killed Marv with your own two hands even...I enjoyed that” Her voice. It sounded different. Layered, demonic. He clutched at his neck. Why did it burn?!
“You’re going to kill again. If not with your hands, with your Hubris. And with my wrath. Make them suffer, Matthew. Or I will truly be gone forever” He gasped more desperately now, his vision had started to darken. Suddenly her face filled his vision. Not the horrific corpse from before, but the pale, dark eyed and raven haired beauty he had fallen for. He felt the icy caress once more, now an unsettling accompaniment to the burning and eternal strangulation.
“Make the world pay, Like I used to Matthew. And then finally, when you’ve ruined them all like I’ve ruined you. When you’re as alone in life as I am in hell...I will let you join me”
His eyes flew open then. He shot into an upright position. The horn of a big rig ringing in his ears. He grasped at the door handle, pushing it open and falling onto his hands and knees out of the Altima. He took in deep, struggling breaths as he tried to slow his heart rate. The air..it tasted and smelled like salt
He rolled onto his back, and stared up at the dreary, Baltimore sky. His gaze turned left, and stared up at the Marriott sign. He took another moment to calm his breathing before sitting up. He reached out and grabbed onto the car door, using it for leverage and dragging himself vertical. He reached into his jeans pocket and produced his phone. He checked the time
7:47 AM
July the 11th.
He wiped his face of the cold sweat, taking in another deep inhale of fresh harbor air. He closed the car door and steadied himself, before heading toward the hotel to start his day anew.