The Noir Evil

by Richard Paul Caird

  As he frantically struggled to free himself with some urgency he understood now that there unnatural love had protected him from the German bombs overhead and that this compassion would live on with him beyond this dark day. A macabre mixture of stinging blood and rain then dripped into his cracked lips as the quickly rising muddy water started to violently invade the area around his trapped legs. The defiant Sweeney was suddenly filled with unparalleled hatred for the intrusive Chaplin as he attempted to pull himself up and out of the masses of confusingly twisted flesh that entombed him within a shallow grave of bones and blood. This pure hatred would fuel his unnatural strength within him to elude deaths hateful embrace so that he could take his revenge upon the very man whom had not only rejected him for being himself but also preached the wonders of a false god.

  As he steadily lifted himself from the two intertwined corpses that appeared to not want to let him go as there dead hands still greedily gripped at his clothes, he could hear soldiers frantically running around and shouting to vacate the area and leave the devastated bunker. A victorious Sweeney finally escaped the two intertwined and mangled corpses before he hastily put on his broken and twisted round spectacles and squinted as he surveyed his destroyed surroundings within the rain. There was little left of the make shift morgue and infirmary with the exception of its soil walls because even though there was a huge hole in the place of what was once its ceiling, the walls had radiated out the shockwave harmlessly into the surrounding soil.

  The atmosphere crackled with gunfire as distant flashes of explosive lit up the cloudy sky above with a multitude of colours as fearful screams and shouting sailed upon the bellowing winds. The shell shocked Sweeney then instinctively padded himself down and was surprised that he had not be more badly injured during the sudden and devastating attack. He then alarmingly heard the familiar sound of the still inexplicably alive Chaplin’s voice as it groaned from under the rubble nearby where the former doorway had been. It was inconceivable to him that this man of god was still annoyingly alive which further infuriated the already enraged Sweeney and filled him with an unrelenting hatred of pure malice.

  He desperately started to survey his chaotic surrounds in a frantic bid to locate the accursed interfering Chaplin and knew that he had to silence him personally or he would defiantly be immediately shot by the ruling officers. The Chaplin now knew about his macabre nocturnal activities and with all the chaos taking place around them and the rubble now blocking the entrance to his debouched theatre of horror, he had no alternative but to silence him permanently. The brilliant light from the full moon above was liberally filtering down into the destroyed infirmary so that he could just see his illuminated surroundings and any movements made by the struggling Chaplin.

  He then noticed that the two corpses where grimly smiling back at him from there mud filled crater in all there grotesquely moonlit glory as the rain joyously danced off their quickly submerging faces. As he desperately tried to locate the groaning Chaplin amongst the confusing rubble, his fury empowered him to proceed quickly on with his ghastly task before he was discovered by the numerous soldiers whose voices appeared to be getting louder as they continued to shout for all to leave the doomed bunker. Whilst he searched he was conceptualizing a miraculous escape from his forthcoming doomed charge, which this explosion now offered him and he was adamant that he would escape if given the opportunity but only once he had ensured his escapes success by killing the elusive Chaplin.

  His attention was then captured by the movements of the struggling Chaplin in the rising mud and he hastily adjusted his broken spectacles back upon his sweaty face before he quickly moved through the heavy rain, mud and rubble and towards his groaning quarry. As the madly deranged Sweeney finally got within arm’s length of the struggling Chaplin, whom was caught under some rumble and alarmed at the quickly rising mud level, he used the last of his strength to desperately push his head under the thick mud. The desperate Sweeney emotionally kept pressure on the resistant head of the Chaplin as he struggled which caused many vocal bubbles to frantically appear upon the surface of the mud. After much effort on Sweeney’s part, the bubbling mud and its unseen occupant’s movements below finally ceased altogether and this instantly filled the emotionally wrecked Sweeney with a sensation of blessed relief.

  The silently relieved Sweeney then slowly sat down in the nearby mud and was emotionally and physically exhausted but relieved in the knowledge that his dark secret would remain with him and him alone. He then took this moment to look up at the turbulent night sky and breathed heavy sigh of relief as he let the rain gently caress his trembling face until and he finally felt both his fear and anger subside. Just as he was beginning to reconceptualise his imminent escape across the mud soaked fields above, the groaning and bubbling sound returned from the defiantly still alive Chaplin.

  The infuriated and rage filled Sweeney then immediately grabbed the arm of the terminally wounded Chaplin and violently dragged him up and out of his former muddy grave. The impressively strong Sweeney then threw him on the nearby mud soaked rubble had decided that he would now suffer in painful torment before his timely death came. He would suffer for his ignorant rejection of his romantic advances, his deceitful spreading of known lies and for his future crime of betraying his trust that he would now never get to accomplish. The maddened Sweeney then proceeded to aggressively rip down the preacher’s trousers and pants and began to violently rape the struggling man of god as he fruitlessly squirmed for a freedom that would never come.

  The now unrepentant Sweeney wished to inflict unbearable pain upon the collared man for what he represented, the earthly representation of a god which he had always despised. The dying Chaplin now unwittingly represented all of the cruelty that life had unfairly bestowed upon him for what he had to hide and feel so ashamed about. The salivating and ferociously deranged Sweeney relished in this newly discovered form of extreme dominance and the half dead Chaplin resisted him at first but then reluctantly succumb to the sheer brute force of his inhuman strength. The battered and bruised Chaplin then looked up to see the upside down cross as it still precariously clung onto the wall in its newly unholy position and resigned himself to his cruel fate as the demonic Sweeney continually brutalised him from behind.

  The dominate sadist was then totally unleashed as he aggressively hit, punched, spat and beat the bloodied Chaplin before he finally climaxed deep inside him, instantly pleasuring the violently enraged madman with an unknown euphoria that he had never experienced before. The pure ecstasy of unbridled pleasure that he had been so desperately seeking for so very long had finally developed into a physical manifestation as his eyes rolled uncontrollably into the back of his head. He relished every second of this newly discovered euphotic stimulation as he uncontrollably came again and again deep inside the very object of both his affections and his immense hatred.

  As his eyes rolled again in this maddeningly addictive ecstasy, he caught the briefest of glimpses of a large owl sitting on an old rotten tree in the moonlight above the bombed out bunker. Upon seeing this bizarrely distracting sight he then reluctantly withdrew from the defeated Chaplin and frantically thought about what to do next as he heard the nearing shouts from the American and British soldiers come ever closer. Then yet another German bomb struck nearby, shaking the very foundations of the battered bunker so much so that yet more soil and mud filled up the already saturated hole that he once called home. The Chaplin then groaned again and this led the deranged Sweeney into a maddening blind panic as he sensed that the danger around him was all encompassing. He desperately looked around for a glimpse of his gleaming metal amputation instruments so that he could administers a quick death unto his tormentor but saw nothing until his frantic thoughts where alarmingly interrupted by the resurgent Chaplin’s voice screamed “HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! HE’S GONE MAD!”

  The exhausted Sweeney quickly put his hands over the defiant Chaplin’s mouth to muffle his sacrilegious tongue
and was now at a loss at what to do next. He then followed the only thing that he could, his primal instincts and aggressively pulled and tugged at the insolent Chaplin’s head because he knew that the pain alone would redirect his worrisome vocalisations about himself into pure screams. The struggling Chaplin screamed in agony as the deranged and newly determined madman frantically pulled and twisted at his head with his cumbersomely large hands.

  Lightning struck the old tree above the bunker as the mysteriously large owl keenly watched the unholy horror that was taking place before its ever watchful eyes, eager to see more of the primal bloodletting within this already forsakenly cursed land. The Chaplin’s screams soon became more gargled and liquidly sounding, causing the panting Sweeney to increase his dismembering movements with all of his inhuman might in an attempt to finalise this grim task. As the Chaplin’s bodily movements slowly started to cease altogether the emotional Sweeney reiterated his previous statement so that the defiant Chaplin could truly understand him in the next world and screamed it an inhuman voice of unparalleled madness “GOD IS NOT HEEERRREEE!!! AHHHH!!!”

  Lightning struck the dead tree again as the owl eagerly watched the Chaplin’s head come off and the exhausted Sweeney fall back onto the muddy ground, completely covered in newly thick warm gushing blood that emanated from the still twitching Chaplin’s body. A shaking and exhausted Sweeney still clutched the warm throbbing head of the ill-fated Chaplin in both hands as the rain poured down mercilessly upon him. He looked at it curiously as the blood still pumped around it and expected to see the Chaplin still voice yet more vile lies about him but noting, the Chaplin had finally left this world for the next. He suddenly felt both exhilarated and relieved as the holy blood was effortlessly washed away from his trembling face by the rain and the dripping mud from the upturned and disturbed soil above.

  The long absent moon shone down a comfortingly light upon him and it was the only familiar thing that he could see that reminded him of a long lost normality within the chaotic area of devastation. He then surprisingly saw the watch that he had seen earlier floating past him on the mud and it had apparently stopped ticking at the moment of the bombs impact because its motionless and cracked face now showed that it was permanently the Devil’s hour, 3:13am. He soon smiled to himself because he strangely felt happy for the first time since he had come to this accused frontline and amused himself with what this happiness had taken to finally awaken. He also felt oddly relived as if a huge weight had been lifted from his tiresome shoulders and as he began to awkwardly giggle to himself, he knowingly rationalised the full extent of what had transpired to protect his troublingly fragile mind.

  As he marvelled at himself for the impressively grotesque actions that he had committed upon others, he began to laugh uncontrollable whilst crying at the same time. His disturbing laughter sailed upon the wailing winds of misery which pervaded all on the front line and confused both the assaulting Axis forces and the defending Allies. He laughed so hard that he finally dropped the head of the Chaplin into the murky unforgiving depths of the mud, concealing his macabrely dark secret within the fog of wars harmonious embrace. He then ran his bloody and shaking fingers through his chaotically messy hair as he watched the Chaplin’s head disappear and then turned his reluctant gaze upon the wondrous sight of the moonlight rain and stars which he had not seen in months.

  He then heard soldiers shouting from the distance if anyone needed there help and he simply continued to laugh uncontrollably whilst smearing his senseless face with the Chaplin’s warm blood, only for it to immediately be washed off again by the rain. He still had much time to hide the horrors of the atrocities had just taken place and so he slowly began to stop laughing as he required all of his energy to slowly get up from the unforgivingly greedy mud. He then looked up through the huge dripping wet and mud soaked hole above and towards where the ceiling had once been and marvelled at how lucky he had been to have survived such a tremendously destructive impact.

  As he briefly pondered the fragility of life he then again noticed the same large owl continually staring at him from the branch of the oddly shaped and grotesque looking dead tree above. Its brilliantly feathered and bulky body was constantly shrouded in an unnatural darkness as it only came into view when a distant explosion illuminated it and the grotesque tree that it chose to perch on. Its silhouette however was continually illuminated by the moonlight behind it and provided limited detail to its impressive plumage that decorated this unlikely witness to his crime. It was simply staring at him for what seemed like a lifetime with its big, round white eyes which were completely unflinching at all of the chaos that the surrounding warzone was creating.

  Sweeney was amazed at the magnificent creature and then straitened his round, bent and broken spectacles again because they were slipping off his nose and desperately attempted to get a better look at the lonesome doom bird. He then squinted his eyes and curiously noticed that there was a large rat dangling precariously from inside its salivating mouth. Sweeney suspected that it was a recent kill because the vermin’s legs and tail where visibly still wriggling with life and then he looked again into the owls ominously mesmerising eyes as he felt them calling out to him.

  He felt that this magnificent winged witness to his unholy crimes somehow understood his plight and understood why he had been forced into performing such dark deeds upon this blackest of nights. He knowingly understood that they would forever be eternally locked within a dark embrace from this moment forward simply because he felt his troubled mind being overridden by the calming influence of the non-judgemental observer. He internally knew now that he was now harbouring a form of life worse than death, a life that would inevitably spread out and infect those whom had the misfortune of coming into contact with him. This disturbing feeling however was a comforting release from the anxiety which had pervaded his besieged mind for the last few months and had a natural calming influence upon him.

  Instinctively knowing that this wondrous influence had come from the winged creature above only solidified his desire for a connection with the carnivorous bird and he then felt his mind effortlessly sliding into a dark place of unknown designs. This shadowy realm was unknown to him but his mind had apparently willingly fallen into it whilst its dark reassesses seemed to infect his thoughts with all manner of sordid desires and deviant wishes of devilish design. These unspeakable desires could not be sated within this realm of existence and knowing this seemed to sadden the troubled Sweeney until he created fiendish scenarios that somehow managed to bridge the gap between the two worlds, bringing physicality to the dark desires that he still craved for.

  He then understood that his sacrilegiously dark act of heinous desecration during the devil’s hour had united the malformed pair in a depraved union of ungodly defiance. The ancient malevolent owl looked unflinchingly back at Sweeney and Sweeney at it until he suddenly felt himself falling into the maddening empty void of the eternal abyss of darkness. Then the owl sucked up the wriggling rat into its salivating mouth, along with Sweeney’s very sanity and soul.

  The slumbering congressman Martin Sweeney slowly awoke and was surprised to see he had spent most of the day within his outrageously ostentatious king size bed. He yawned, stretched and then slowly sat up and immediately put a large Cuban cigar into his wanting mouth. The red and gold silk sheets still clung to his sweaty body as he eagerly lit up the cigar whilst also pouring himself a drink of the finest red wine that money could buy. As he put back the cap on his elaborately decorated bedside glass decanter he then put his cumbersome legs and belly over the side of the bed as he sat up and pleasurably surveyed his luxurious penthouse apartment’s bedroom in all of its grandeur.

  He proudly looked at his tastefully decorated walls which were filled with all manner of gold, red and black colours which in turn unduly saturated any viewing eye with a silent insinuation that one was in the presence of unknown royalty. There was a distinctively unique aura of the Imperialist Rome ab
out this bedroom and this was not just because of the many paintings of ancient Rome which decorated the lavish walls or the impressive busk of a gold laurel reef wearing and red Jupiter faced Caesar, which dominated the bedroom upon a small roman column. Nor was it the large sand filled glass container at the foot of the bed which had a colosseum image skilfully painted into its false landscape whilst a large, curled up Red-bellied black snakes tongue flicked in and out of its reptile lips. The true reason behind this unspoken aura which unapologetically saturated the room with its imperialist agenda was because the content congressman truly did feel like the Emperor of all that he now surveyed.

  His personal view of the Cleveland skyline was dramatically impressive and he enjoyed how far below him everything looked whilst he eagerly puffed on his glowing cigar. He adored the feeling of knowing that he was so high above all the little people whom where insignificant compared to himself and ultimately worthless in the greater scheme of things. These dispensable masses of obediently trained worker ants where were they belonged, far below him and kneeling at his godlike feet. He took great satisfaction in knowing that he had acquired this prestigiously exclusive apartment from such malleable subjects and enjoyed how ruthlessly he had obtained it by using his nefarious underworld contacts, insisting upon having it no matter what the cost.

  His penthouse apartment of the famed Terminal Tower, within the heart of downtown Cleveland, was already his before it have even made it to the realtors because he knew people within the development sector whom owed him some favours whereas others needed a little more “persuasion”. These others soon came to see his way of thinking however after some of his more brutish employee’s paid them a visit to persuade them of his immense interest in the property. It was worth all the effort to acquire this property for the view alone because his already overly inflated superiority complex demanded the constant visual confirmation of all-encompassing power. He comfortably sat on his silk sheets in all his overweight glory as he pleasurably looked out at the marvellous view that was his playground or as he liked to think of it, his Colosseum.