Before starting my journey as a horror writer, I did work for several video game and comic book companies as a character and concept artist. Currently I'm an aspiring horror writer hoping to break into the industry through what opportunity I may find. My writing credits are mostly that of published work in the music and comics industry as well as two self published books so far, "Hellverse: Shadows of the Abyss" and "Hellverse: Bloodlines of Kaos." Whereas most authors these days cater more to modern audiences, my goal is to rekindle the poetic violence and debauchery of classic literature. I prefer a story to build to something instead of giving everything right from the start.
You can read more by Sean right HERE.
YEAR ZERO
by
Sean Walusko
I never knew that pain could be so welcoming, so rewarding, so...full of bliss. In these, my final moments, I was flooded with the divine, those memories of clandestine solitude that were to be the curtailing of my life. My name was first Adam. Other times it was Abraham, Yeshwa, Alexander, Ezekiel, Hippocrates. Of those distant memories, it was Xerxes and Ragnar that comforted my thoughts more than that of the sweetest wine. And now, as I look down upon on my flayed meat, red and exposed, the skin pulled away from my flesh like a budding rose, only the eyeless faces of my Lord are left to fill the void.
“Your tongue lacks truth, but speaks of histories sordid and unclean,” it said to me.
The world of men had ended long ago. None left, but dirt and decay traversed the space in which a brilliant sphere, blue and green, once spun its machinations. Now, it was but the empty black, riddled specks of dust floating in space.
My eyes had been removed from the cavities that held them, my jaw dislodged, skin spread open like a canvas of translucent wings which illuminated with star light. My earthly body had become as a new foundation of plagues. A tapestry of laid out soliloquies as my Lord had made it so.
“You were my first. You are my last,” it said.
“Do I please you, father?” I asked.
It reached out its thousand hands and slid those sickly prickled fingers across the neural pathways that kept their connections from muscle to sinew, and venous roads. The eyeless god unraveled its phallic, serpentine tongue and licked at the synaptic pulses that lit my cortex.
“I taste all. Your fears. Your pain. Your lives. Your deaths. So...empty. So...delicious,” it said.
I could feel my intestines pull further and further away from my body with each slip through the port in my gut. As the charred remains of a world once teaming with life swirled about the void, I couldn’t help but wonder what miracles could come of my lowly status. I could not see, but felt my body stretch more with each passing second, reeling further into oblivion. This was the moment when creation would cease and my testimonies would be made law.
Another voice came from deep within the abyss. It was she, the mother of God. Oh, beautiful Sophia, how her embrace was one which I longed.
“Yaltabaoth,” she said. “Come back to me. Sink within thine womb and leave behind this earthly desire.”
My God answered. “Mother. Abandon all hope, for I shall enter here.”
Sophia spread her legs and slicked her labia in a welcoming gesture as her son crawled its maggot wrought celestial form back inside her. Back into her fetid womb. She moaned in ecstasy as the immortal babe self fornicated and struck her insides with its seed. The mother goddess embraced me, a mortal whose exposed flesh was a puzzlement of horrors stretched across the width of an entire planet. “My child’s child,” Sophia said, stroking my blood flayed flesh and lithe, brittle bones. “Oh, how your beauty soothes me so. My son hath tasted your liquored stench and carries in him, in me, the knowledge of your kind. What mistakes you were will be righted so.”
Though held in blessed bondage, I moved what parts I could to offer my essence to her, that my meat would nourish her and her child. Sophia latched her claws between the wound strands that made the form of my muscles and tore away with a vampiric hunger. Piece by piece, she consumed me. As she fed upon my willing corpse, I felt my own memories become one with her. I saw her from the inside out.
The god child had flooded her womb with its seed and, in those moments before drowning on its own seminal fluids, it erupted back out into the black of space in a cosmic expulsion of fire wrought after birth. Sophia finished ravaging what was left of me and soon, I joined the grand finite collection of memories that once lived upon a world called “earth.” We were now all part of her, and our experienced lives passed to her son Yaltabaoth, the blind idiot god.
It was on this, the day of his new rebirth that the cosmic plane once more heard the deafening sound of a new creation. I, Sophia, all collected souls of mortal men, watched our son descend into the infinite black as it carried with it our lived experiences. We watched him, for a thousand millenia, gestate and grow, until it grew beyond measure. He was abandoned, left to discover his own designs. And with his last breaths, he tore away at his star born structure and exploded in a brilliant flash of sanguine beauty.
A billion new stars flooded the heavens. Masses of corporeal stone spun and reconstituted themselves once more into those brilliant orbs of which only few could sustain life. And, as the universe calmed itself once more, life fed upon life, death cycled its unending resilience and I would watch from the edge of creation until the day my son once again consumes last living host of human memory to carry on its cycle once more.