Tetromet A.D. Part Three by Ezekiel Kincaid
(READ PART ONE HERE AND PART TWO HERE)
“Just let me make it to the tree,” he prayed. He still believed in God and Christ though most of the survivors didn’t. How could he not believe after seeing the heavens torn open and the Sons of God descending and capturing the Tetromet? Was the existence of evil a strong enough proof to nullify the belief in God? No, not when a person had seen what Mason did. He saw evil up close and personal and he saw the good come and defeat the evil. So yes, Mason still believed. The others didn’t believe because they were just bitter at how life had turned out for them.
Maon knew what he was about to do was wrong, but he didn’t care. He wanted his daughter back and if it worked, he would do it again to bring back Maggie. He read the documents and understood what he had to do. He knew he could be resurrecting a great evil again.
Mason followed the compass and his markings, then arrived at the tree ten minutes later.
Was it really possible for worlds to collide? For Mason the answer seemed to be in the affirmative. He stood before the tree as the past, present, and future collided into one metareality.
“Annalise! Maggie!” Mason dropped to his knees and stretched his hands out to the tree. His arms seemed to extend like rubber bands then popped back on him.
The smog around the tree had lifted and he could see it in all its insidious bareness. The larger branches stretched upward and pointed towards the sky. The smaller branches draped in sadness and the tree looked as if it had been weeping for years.
The emotions and feelings spun Mason like a carousel. Joy then hopelessness. Love then hate. Rage was followed by rivers of peace. He could smell Maggie’s hair as he made love to her in the night. The scent of their sex filled his nostrils. He saw Annaliese giggling on the bed as he changed her diaper—she was so young and innocent. Her beautiful smile filled his vision and her cackling laugh reverberated through his ears.
Then the morbid memories bucked out the pleasant ones. They were bullies who longed to kick the ass of all good things.
Annalise’s death.
Maggie’s destruction.
They forced their way to the forefront.
“Fucking! Stop!” Mason screamed and clenched his fists at his side. The skin on his face was stretched to the max from the torque of his muscles and tendons. He resembled nothing of his normal self. Rage and passion had a way of changing a man, even in appearance. The scream was one which ascended beyond the smog. It was so loud and powerful it broke the hazy atmosphere.
Mason dropped to the ground and beat away at his skull.
“Get out of my fucking head,” he yelled. “Go away! Leave me alone!”
Mason pounded his knuckles against his cranium and every blow rocked him like being punched by a heavyweight, but he kept hammering away. Anything to make it stop. He groaned and snarled. Spittle flew from his lips as he breathed through his mouth and gnashed his teeth.
The sights, smells, and sounds of the memories soon evaporated. Mason’s muscles relaxed and he opened his eyes. There was nothing but the smog and the tree. He rose to his feet on shaky legs. He patted his front pocket. The razor blade was still there and so was the nail. He shifted his hands to his waistband and nodded. The hammer hadn’t fallen out during one of his spells. Mason retrieved the photograph, razor blade and nail from his pocket. He placed his compass in his pocket and walked closer to the tree.
Mason ran his free hand over the trunk of the tree. It had no bark and was smooth to the touch. Its color hadn’t changed over the years and neither had its scent. It remained a charcoal grey and wreaked of a burning hair type smell. Mason slid the hammer from his waistband. He set the photograph, hammer, and nail at the base of the tree. He then gripped the razor blade in one hand and his left ear in the other.
Mason had read in the Gospel of Thaddeus that in order for the resurrection of one who had been destroyed by the Tetromet and his demons to work, a flesh sacrifice and a precious object was needed. He figured an ear would be best because he could still function and survive without it.
Mason then uttered the prayer:
“Inside the darkness,
All is light.
Ever shining,
Always bright.
The outer layers,
Are all the skin,
Which hides the light,
That shines within.”
Mason touched the razor blade against the back of his ear then sawed away. He hollered in agony and felt his own, warm blood flow down the side of his neck. His nose picked up on the copper scent and he grew woozy. He gave one final jerk of the blade and severed his ear from his head.
Mason lifted his ear in front of his face and turned it over in his hands. He studied the flesh sacrifice. The blade had made a clean cut. It was an odd sensation to be holding a piece of his body in his own hand and staring at it.
Mason then remembered he needed to stop the blood flow. He reached in his back pocket and retrieved a bandage wrap. He unrolled it then wrapped it around his head in haste. He threw the razor blade to the ground and picked up the hammer, nail, and picture. He folded the photograph around his ear then nailed the sacrifice to the tree. Mason stepped back to see what would happen next.
One of the large branches began to sway. Mason turned his attention to it and saw a sac begin to form.
“Ah, shit. This isn’t good.” He reached down and grabbed the hammer. He was going to be ready just in case he summoned a demon.
The sac expanded and the gel like substance expanded and retracted. The skin of the sac turned translucent and Mason saw a form taking shape inside. Whatever it was looked sentient and it pressed its hands against the skin. The hands were small, almost…
“Childlike,” Mason muttered. “Annalise!” Mason ran to the sac.
He took the claw of the hammer and dug into the skin. He ripped downward and tore the sac open. White fluid rushed out and a face appeared.
“Daddy?” It asked.
“Oh my God. Annalise!” Mason threw his arms around his daughter and pulled her out of the sac. “Oh, my baby!” He hugged her and spun then dropped to his knees. “Oh, my sweet girl.” He rocked and wept.
“I missed you, Daddy,” Annalise said. “Where’s Mommy?”
Mason unhooked his arms from her and gripped her shoulders. It really was Annalise. She was covered in white fluid, but it was her. Her blonde hair was wet and matted and her blue eyes stared back at him.
“She will be here soon,” He said and embraced her again. “I missed you, baby. So much.” Mason rocked her again.
“I missed you, Daddy. I missed you, Daddy. I missed you, Daddy.” Annalise repeated it over and over, her voice grew deeper and grated.
Mason’s eyes widened. He grabbed her by the shoulders again and pushed her back.
“I missed you, Daddy.” Annalise’s skin melted off like wax.
“What the f—” Mason fell on his rear and shuffled his body backwards.
The skin dripped all the way off, and another girl was there now. She was a different girl altogether. She had red hair and green, cat like eyes.
Mason knew who she was. He had seen the paintings and the pictures accompanying the legends.
“Theodosia,” he whispered.
Theodosia’s skin on her face decayed and strips of it dropped to the ground. She wore a dingy white dress with a pink bow on the waist. She placed a hand over her mouth and giggled with a guttural laugh.
“What did I do?” Mason scooched back more.
Theodosia removed her hand from her lips and opened her mouth. Her teeth were yellow and rotten. A black tentacle with red suction cups shot out of her mouth. It danced and gyrated as it curled its way towards Mason.
The tentacle moved so fast Mason couldn’t get away in time. It wrapped around his throat and pulled him to Theodosia. The tentacle was cold and wet. It stank of dead marine life. Mason could feel the suction cups sucking on his neck. He gagged and clawed away as the tentacle dragged him across the ground.
Theodosia stood over her prey with her tentacle tongue wrapped around its neck. She straddled Mason and sat on his chest. She unwrapped her tongue from around his neck and it slid back into her mouth.
Mason stared up at Theodosia. His eyes were wide in terror and he felt powerless in her presence. He wept. He wept for Maggie. He wept for Annalise. He wept for his foolish decision.
“Evil never dies,” Theodosia said. She leaned forward and placed her hands beside Mason’s head. She got nose to nose with him. “It simply finds a new way to fuck your life up.”
Theodosia bit down on Mason’s neck and his gurgling screams echoed through the forest.
In the Ethereal Plane, the eyes on the Tetromet’s snake tail darted open.
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