Is There No Balm In Gilead? (Beneath An Archway)
I was walking my ways by the TransJordan, when I saw him.
Fresh as day...
But dead in the middle of night.
Between darkness, breath-stripping fear,
There was a man down beneath the archway...
Sitting there.
Quiet and misjudged.
Turned to the corner, where a shadow cast down...
I stepped forth.
A face hidden.
His body unclothed.
For this, cowered in fear, the harmless creature...
Dark lesioned flesh, with a blackish, crusty tint.
He whimpered...
Poor thing.
With whimpers turned sobs, on his head buried down.
The sound stretched twelve miles,
And, to this, his flesh grew darker.
Grew leprous.
Tainted....
Sniff...snff....
Turn around...turn around...
And would he answer my thoughts?
Yes, it seemed, and man turned around.
But no man.
No leper.
The creature stared into me...
Bloodshot, liquidous eyes,
With eyelids gently peeling.
Skin roughly tearing.
He stared me down, this monster did...
And the stitches of his mouth began to part.
A man's voice asked...but a demon's pitch spit into my eyes.
"Is there no balm...in Gilead?"
One time thee asked.
Perked up its eyes, and licked out a grey tongue.
And I had my response,
For I knew there was all, and my Master had prepared.
"Yes. There is."
Enraged, the thing grew!!!
Blood seeped in murky, tarnish rivers from its eyes...
Its skin grew even shadier,
Riddled with boils and pus-filled blackheads.
Bursting...
Pop-pop-popping at their mouths.
Dark, greenish gunk ran from its body,
And fear rose like yeast in the middle of my heart.
Deeper its pitch dropped, and closer it arose...
"Is there no balm...in Gilead?"
Two times thee asked.
Curled, un-curled its brownish toenails.
Gnashed its teeth.
Still once again, I had my answer,
For I knew there was healing, and my Master had provided.
"Yes. There is."
A demon!!! A demonness!!!
It cursed and crowed, and wailed, and bellowed...
While blackened scales fell in heaps to the ground.
Slits spread between its eyes, bulging with redness.
The stitches that held its mouth together fell away,
And I gasped...
Stuck to its bleeding, ashen lips, lying on the ground.
Deeper...deeper...even deeper it spoke.
Growls simmered inside its hollow throat.
Closer it stepped.
"Is there no balm....in GILEAD?"
Three times it had asked.
Its flesh was exposed. Pink and pulsing.
Maggots crawled in the place of its heart...
Sloshing and squishing betwixt my ears.
And even once more, I had my answer,
For I knew there was balm, for my Master had promised.
"Yes. Yes, there is."
No more could it take.
The creature lashed at me, making a large gash in my scalp...
There was no time to escape, for he was stronger.
Blood rushed to my head, the darkness overcame me...
I began to fall....
Oohhhhhhhhh...
And a faint streetlight posed beneath my knees.
I stood up. Wobbling. But strong.
A finger to my head, and a damp liquid sat.
No blood ran, but sweat walked with...
So thine footsteps were slow, but on we progressed.
On to Gilead.
Meanwhile, there was a man beneath the archway.
Resting.
Resting quiet. Misjudged.
Turned to the shadows, where the corner faded...
He turned around, stared at me.
Stared.
Blue, full eyes. A sorrowful, despairing frown.
He held me there, this man did...
With diseased skin, and a crumpled figure.
I spoke first.
"There is...balm in Gilead."
And I kept walking.
542 words. Written by Darius R. Burns
Fresh as day...
But dead in the middle of night.
Between darkness, breath-stripping fear,
There was a man down beneath the archway...
Sitting there.
Quiet and misjudged.
Turned to the corner, where a shadow cast down...
I stepped forth.
A face hidden.
His body unclothed.
For this, cowered in fear, the harmless creature...
Dark lesioned flesh, with a blackish, crusty tint.
He whimpered...
Poor thing.
With whimpers turned sobs, on his head buried down.
The sound stretched twelve miles,
And, to this, his flesh grew darker.
Grew leprous.
Tainted....
Sniff...snff....
Turn around...turn around...
And would he answer my thoughts?
Yes, it seemed, and man turned around.
But no man.
No leper.
The creature stared into me...
Bloodshot, liquidous eyes,
With eyelids gently peeling.
Skin roughly tearing.
He stared me down, this monster did...
And the stitches of his mouth began to part.
A man's voice asked...but a demon's pitch spit into my eyes.
"Is there no balm...in Gilead?"
One time thee asked.
Perked up its eyes, and licked out a grey tongue.
And I had my response,
For I knew there was all, and my Master had prepared.
"Yes. There is."
Enraged, the thing grew!!!
Blood seeped in murky, tarnish rivers from its eyes...
Its skin grew even shadier,
Riddled with boils and pus-filled blackheads.
Bursting...
Pop-pop-popping at their mouths.
Dark, greenish gunk ran from its body,
And fear rose like yeast in the middle of my heart.
Deeper its pitch dropped, and closer it arose...
"Is there no balm...in Gilead?"
Two times thee asked.
Curled, un-curled its brownish toenails.
Gnashed its teeth.
Still once again, I had my answer,
For I knew there was healing, and my Master had provided.
"Yes. There is."
A demon!!! A demonness!!!
It cursed and crowed, and wailed, and bellowed...
While blackened scales fell in heaps to the ground.
Slits spread between its eyes, bulging with redness.
The stitches that held its mouth together fell away,
And I gasped...
Stuck to its bleeding, ashen lips, lying on the ground.
Deeper...deeper...even deeper it spoke.
Growls simmered inside its hollow throat.
Closer it stepped.
"Is there no balm....in GILEAD?"
Three times it had asked.
Its flesh was exposed. Pink and pulsing.
Maggots crawled in the place of its heart...
Sloshing and squishing betwixt my ears.
And even once more, I had my answer,
For I knew there was balm, for my Master had promised.
"Yes. Yes, there is."
No more could it take.
The creature lashed at me, making a large gash in my scalp...
There was no time to escape, for he was stronger.
Blood rushed to my head, the darkness overcame me...
I began to fall....
Oohhhhhhhhh...
And a faint streetlight posed beneath my knees.
I stood up. Wobbling. But strong.
A finger to my head, and a damp liquid sat.
No blood ran, but sweat walked with...
So thine footsteps were slow, but on we progressed.
On to Gilead.
Meanwhile, there was a man beneath the archway.
Resting.
Resting quiet. Misjudged.
Turned to the shadows, where the corner faded...
He turned around, stared at me.
Stared.
Blue, full eyes. A sorrowful, despairing frown.
He held me there, this man did...
With diseased skin, and a crumpled figure.
I spoke first.
"There is...balm in Gilead."
And I kept walking.
542 words. Written by Darius R. Burns