Gallows Perfume - a novel

[ScamL Likely]

Preface: This stems from a half-aborted premise for a novel I was originally going to write approximately two years ago as my fourth full length (I personally define that as being approximately 60 thousand to 100 thousand words) project. The original outline called for a more coherent plot and well-defined characters but this version of it is going to be a semi-spontaneously written "mood piece", whatever the fuck that means. I'm choosing to slowly write/post this garbage on kiwifarms because at this point it's just a half-assed side project that'd likely never get written at all under more normal conditions.
---

The Tenth Knot In The Noose

I knew them all so well, didn't I?

"Make way! Make way for the condemned!"

From the Crown to the Kingdom, was it? But no, that's wrong. Here everything can only flow backwards. If such fragments are to be extricated from their prison in this heretical land they can only ascend to the ever-burning wellspring above.

"To all in attendance, hear these charges levied against the condemned:
High treason against the queen, violating the purity of May's throne, causing an unseasonable spring with unholy magic, and consorting with devils so as to deceive, deflower, and defile no less than ten shrine maidens."

It's always ten somehow. Ten crowns of blasphemy, ten rings of authority, and most of all the plagues; my beloved girls coronated and anointed as plague queens by the sacred blood of their torn hymens, as the holy mothers of my final affliction and first apotheosis.

"As is tradition, we offer the sinner before us a moment to speak any last words he might have."

Well now, I suppose I shouldn't disappoint them.

"This is a most joyous occasion, for through killing my imperfect flesh you will have completed the ritual I began, thus granting my soul perfection like unto that of a living god."

Now come the jeers.

"Blasphemy!"

"Drown in shit for eternity!"

"Heresy!"

"The crows will eat well tonight!"

"Hang the pretender!"

"Kill him now!"

I've never heard sweeter music as long as I've lived. But alas, the executioner doesn't allow them to sing to me for long. The noose is tied, the platform ready.

"May the weight of your sins be alleviated with this final drop."

And so I fall. And so I rise. They made sure to prolong my suffering by letting the noose slowly strangle me rather than allowing it to snap my neck in one motion. I wouldn't have it any other way. I see them now floating before me, my ten angels, my queens, slaves, mothers, daughters, victims, and lovers. Gently they guide me towards the throne I was born to sit upon, and all is fully erect as I ascend.

 

[epigenes]

melodramatic and not really my thing.
- "first apotheosis" makes no sense
- "by the sacred blood for their torn hymens" might be the edgiest thing I've ever read
- there's a stylistic disconnect between the way you write the king (dismissive, casual) and the way you write the crowd and executioner (serious language) which gives the whole thing an amateurish quality

 

[ScamL Likely]

melodramatic and not really my thing.
- "first apotheosis" makes no sense
- "by the sacred blood for their torn hymens" might be the edgiest thing I've ever read
- there's a stylistic disconnect between the way you write the king (dismissive, casual) and the way you write the crowd and executioner (serious language) which gives the whole thing an amateurish quality

This is an explicitly masturbatory vanity project that I'm posting here for my own amusement more than anything else.

 

[KimCoppolaAficionado]

This is an explicitly masturbatory vanity project that I'm posting here for my own amusement more than anything else.

Post it on FF if you want asspats.

 

[ScamL Likely]

Post it on FF if you want asspats.

Who said I wanted asspats? Posting "criticism" is fine if that's what gets you off, but in this case it's like coming up to some hobo jacking off on a train and telling them they aren't fit to be in porn.

 

[KimCoppolaAficionado]

Who said I wanted asspats? Posting "criticism" is fine if that's what gets you off, but in this case it's like coming up to some hobo jacking off on a train and telling them they aren't fit to be in porn.

No, it's coming up to a hobo jacking off on a train and saying "please jack off somewhere else".
Please jack off somewhere else.

 

[ScamL Likely]

1

"The — entire — kindergarten?!"

"Yeah, it was some sick shit, man. Dead kids everywhere. All blown to pieces."

"But why? And just..."

"Well, y'know-"

"How, even?"

"Some people just shoulda been aborted, is all. There's not much else to say about the guy."

"Sure, but still. It just makes no fucking sense. Why suicide bomb a goddamn kindergarten of all places?"

"He said it was for the 'superior future' or some such shit in his manifesto, but who the fuck knows what that means."

"Was he a schizo? In some sort of cult?"

"Nope, no known history of mental illness. He was just really fat and really mad, I reckon."

"Could he have been a pedophile?"

"He didn't molest any kids, just killed a whole lot of em."

"A jihadist maybe?"

"Said he was an atheist."

"Maybe he wanted to prove that god doesn't exist then."

"How do you figure that?"

"When people see this kind of shit going on in the world they start losing their faith, whatever it is they believed in."

"That don't prove nothing though. That's-"

"Rétarded?"

"Well... yeah. Don't know what else to call it."

"That's just it: when someone's actions make this little sense they can only be insane or impaired. There's no other option."

"I dunno about all that, man..."

"Then what would you call it? How would you explain it?"

"I'd call it some fat angry bastard killing a bunch of kids. No need to dig any deeper than that."

"But there just — has — to be some kind of motive. No one just blows themselves up with a bunch of little kids for no reason."

"Why not?"

"Come on..."

"I mean, plenty a shit goes down every day that there's no neat or pretty explanation for. Sometimes there just ain't any explanation at all."

"But even you think he was mad about something. What was he mad about?"

"Who cares? There's no sense in trying to suss that out. Even if you did, it wouldn't bring those kids back or make their parents feel any better, now would it?"

"I can't accept that. I have to know."

"Suit yerself, then. Read his manifesto if you'd like. It's just a bunch of bullshit though."

 

[Peach Pit]

first bit reads more like an edgelord's audition monologue than a novel, but gallows perfume is a sick name for a band and I'm stealing it

 

[ScamL Likely]

first bit reads more like an edgelord's audition monologue than a novel, but gallows perfume is a sick name for a band and I'm stealing it

Hell, I'd join that band. Though I can't sing. Or play any instruments. Or even read sheet music.

The title is a reference to what used to be called angel lust. The scientific explanation is boring, but I guess if seeing angels gives you a boner then maybe smelling them does too or some shit. The whole thing is going to be fairly trashy because writing garbage is more fun than reading it.

 

[The Empirical Bogey]

Ow the edge. Help. It stings.

 

[AnOminous]

This is an explicitly masturbatory vanity project that I'm posting here for my own amusement more than anything else.

That sounds mega-gay.

 

[Iwasamwillbe]

The novel isn't the only thing "half-aborted" about OP, I can tell you that.

 

[BrunoMattei]

1

"The — entire — kindergarten?!"

"Yeah, it was some sick shit, man. Dead kids everywhere. All blown to pieces."

"But why? And just..."

"Well, y'know-"

"How, even?"

"Some people just shoulda been aborted, is all. There's not much else to say about the guy."

"Sure, but still. It just makes no fucking sense. Why suicide bomb a goddamn kindergarten of all places?"

"He said it was for the 'superior future' or some such shit in his manifesto, but who the fuck knows what that means."

"Was he a schizo? In some sort of cult?"

"Nope, no known history of mental illness. He was just really fat and really mad, I reckon."

"Could he have been a pedophile?"

"He didn't molest any kids, just killed a whole lot of em."

"A jihadist maybe?"

"Said he was an atheist."

"Maybe he wanted to prove that god doesn't exist then."

"How do you figure that?"

"When people see this kind of shit going on in the world they start losing their faith, whatever it is they believed in."

"That don't prove nothing though. That's-"

"Rétarded?"

"Well... yeah. Don't know what else to call it."

"That's just it: when someone's actions make this little sense they can only be insane or impaired. There's no other option."

"I dunno about all that, man..."

"Then what would you call it? How would you explain it?"

"I'd call it some fat angry bastard killing a bunch of kids. No need to dig any deeper than that."

"But there just — has — to be some kind of motive. No one just blows themselves up with a bunch of little kids for no reason."

"Why not?"

"Come on..."

"I mean, plenty a shit goes down every day that there's no neat or pretty explanation for. Sometimes there just ain't any explanation at all."

"But even you think he was mad about something. What was he mad about?"

"Who cares? There's no sense in trying to suss that out. Even if you did, it wouldn't bring those kids back or make their parents feel any better, now would it?"

"I can't accept that. I have to know."

"Suit yerself, then. Read his manifesto if you'd like. It's just a bunch of bullshit though."

I feel like I'm kicking puppies but this feels like something an edgy middle schooler would write.

 

[ScamL Likely]

I feel like I'm kicking puppies but this feels like something an edgy middle schooler would write.

It's only going to get edgier and more juvenile as it goes along.

 

[BrunoMattei]

It's only going to get edgier and more juvenile as it goes along.

Never upload anything saying "This is just some shit I didn't give a fuck about. Have a read!" Because the reader will equally not give a fuck.

 

[ScamL Likely]

1.2

And so, on the eve of our Satya Yuga's reestablishment, our brave and noble hero set out to uncover the truth of May 1st's kindergarten bombing. Nah, just kidding, he's just an autistic motherfucker (much like you, dearest reader) who watched one too many episodes of Law and Order. Which one? Why, the one with all the rapes, of course. That's the only one he ever watched. He also has a bunch of CP on his hard drive but likes to pretend he cares about kids. Real swell guy, wouldn't you agree?

Loins burning with zeal over the loss of unspoiled life, he tore through the entire 300 page manifesto in a single night. With a title like "Reaching the end of the Tunnel: Towards the Light of the Superior Future" it was bound to be as pretentious and bloated as the prodigiously obese perpetrator himself. The sparknotes version is that it extolled the virtues of Progressivism, Anti-Fascism, Atheism, Fast Food Corporations, Hollywood, and Transhumanism while denouncing White Supremacy, Conservatism, Phobias of all kinds, and Luddism. How this figured into suicide bombing a kindergarten remained a mystery. All that was certain by dawn was that he was really, really, really fat.

In pursuit of the truth and a snack or three, he then decided to case all the local McDonalds, Burger Kings, Wendys, Taco Bells, Pizza Huts, and KFCs, knowing that indulging his own obesity would allow him to trace the lingering scent of his dead fat blown up perp's jockstrap. Each time he passed a daycare center, pediatric clinic, grade school, or kindergarten on the way to these other establishments, he swore a sacred oath upon his erection to get to the bottom of this mess at all costs. Truth it seems, or at least the idea of it, has become the final refuge of all self-righteous pieces of shit; all would-be heralds of a braver, newer, and far more homosexual world.

Yet no amount of pedophilic sexual frustration would change the fact that no one at any local fast food joint knew or cared about any of this bullshit. None of the teenage employees could even understand what our hero was mumbling about until he inevitably gave up after each failed inquiry and ordered an item or two. His fellow customers proved even less cooperative, as they only responded to the same questions he asked the employees by calling him a fat faggot. So he stood in the Wendys parking lot, winded but undeterred.

As he pondered his next move, a particularly disheveled hobo slowly began to approach him. What alarmed our boy wasn't the stench of stale Coors and Old Crow wafting off the bearded vagrant, but the crooked half smile and knowing look in his feverish eyes. Oh shit, he thought, did this asshole see me staring at those little kids before I got out of the car? The bulge in the bum's left pocket was none too reassuring either. It seemed too small to be any kind of serious weapon, but one could never be sure these days. Before the internal war between fight and flight could resolve itself they stood face to face.

 

[ScamL Likely]

1.3

"Hehehehehe... Hey there, friend."

"H-hey. What'supbr-br-bro..."

"No need to get all spooked on me, pal. You just seemed like you might be a fellow traveler, or at least one in waiting."

"A whatnow?"

"You know, like the kinda guy who seeks the way."

"Now look here, look, listen, I was NOT paying an excessive amount of attention to those ch-"

"Woah, woah! I didn't mean nothing accusatory-like or anything."

"O-oh. Sorry."

"It's cool."

"So.... what — did — you mean then?"

"All I meant is you seemed like you'd be amenable to being saved, is all."

"What, like by Jesus or something?"

"Nah, that Jesus stuff is old news. This here's the real deal. Here, take a look."

"The Revelatory Apostolic Order of the Ever-Bleeding Eye?"

"Now, I know how this must seem, some crazy drunk homeless dude in a Wendys parking lot handing you a crumpled up pamphlet, but I promise you this is like nothing you've ever seen before."

"I-it sure seems like... something, alright..."

"Heh, you don't sound too convinced."

"Oh no, I'm sure you guys are, uh-"

"It's fine, man. You don't gotta pretend. Still, if you're curious about it at all we've got a website and everything. It's all on that there pamphlet."

"I'll be sure to check it out."

"It's all cool either way. Well I'll be goin' then. Take care, bud."

"Y-you too..."

 

[ScamL Likely]

1.4

With his anus still quivering from the adrenaline, our boy couldn't quite calm down. Even though he'd gotten home several hours ago, even though the hobo didn't attack or so much as threaten him, something about the encounter left him shaken. And worse yet was that complete and utter limpness in his crotch. Is this what those prolapsed souls who become living communal condoms at state penitentiaries feel on the first night? But no, no, that wasn't it. He could tell. If this sensation was a portent of ills to befall him, they would certainly be far more horrific than mere anal rape, than the feral pawing of prison queers in heat.

And that crumpled piece of trash he'd been given. All of his instincts urged him to burn it and throw the ashes as far away as possible. Yet he failed to obey them. Something deep inside was urging him on. More than any fear for his life, sanity, or chastity — and even though he'd never acknowledge it — more than his pedophilic sense of justice, this anxiety marked the first time he'd felt alive in his 38 years on this planet. On a typical day he'd just shower, eat, grab a snack on the commute to work, work, eat lunch, get back to work, eat another snack, finish work, eat dinner, grab another snack on the way home, take a shower, have a post-shower snack, jack off to CP, have a post CP snack, then go to sleep and do it all over again the next day.

There were no friends, no lovers, and even his family had drifted apart due to his mother being more into her pitbull than his father. Although he was into little girls, maybe something about that dirty drunken hobo turned him on like the weak fat limp-wristed faggot he was deep down. It could've only been a survival instinct, the feeling that bending over and taking it would keep him alive, but it was clear that some part of him wanted to be undone if only so that he'd feel something real for once in his wretched life. That kike hack Freud called this sort of thing the Death Drive, didn't he? And there was some poem he'd heard once about Americans. The only verse he remembered was we live, we die, and death not ends it. Maybe everyone in this country was a slut for death deep down; maybe the American way is to suck the very marrow out of life's misshapen bones only so that one might taste the emptiness beyond it.

So he uncrumpled that pamphlet, ignoring the supposed revelations of these ersatz apostles so that he might find a way to contact them. A way to touch and be touched. To kill and be killed. Kill? Who was he kidding, he didn't stand a chance. But really, what he hadn't considered was that his fantasies of being torn inside out in pursuit of the truth, of heaven pouring the sweet balm of death and oblivion upon his fat useless void of a life, would be inverted and perverted in the worst possible way. Still, as he found their address and hours of operation on the pamphlet all the gears lurched into motion and it was far too late to prevent the inevitable.

 

[BrunoMattei]

Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was unlike anything I ever heard.

This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell.

This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a novelty ventriliquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called “The Better ‘Ole” that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it but it was clever. Like, “Oh I say, are you still down there, old thing?”

“Nah I had to go relieve myself.”

After a while the ass start talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time.

Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in-curving hooks and started eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him: “It’s you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we dont need you around here any more. I can talk and eat and shit.”

After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpole’s tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous — (did you know there is a condition occurs in parts of Africa and only among Negroes where the little toe amputates spontaneously?) — except for the eyes you dig. Thats one thing the asshole couldn’t do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn’t give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes went out, and there was no more feeling in them than a crab’s eyes on the end of a stalk.

William S. Burroughs.

 

[ScamL Likely]

1.5

The trip certainly didn't disappoint him. At least at first it didn't. Nestled in the crack-addled heart of the ghetto, suffused with the stench of poverty and desperation (not to mention shit and piss and puke and used condoms all baking in the summer sun for god knows how long) their compound was not unlike the many other storefront churches he'd passed along the way. There were several instances where he felt as though he'd be mugged, stabbed, or shot in the surrounding neighborhood. So far it was all living up to his expectations.

If there was one thing that seemed off, it'd be that the block their compound was situated on seemed unusually quiet. For some reason even the crackheads, crack whores, crack dealers, and asscrack enthusiasts steered clear of this particular slice of n‎iggerdom. Out of curiosity he doubled back a couple of streets and asked one of the locals why this was the case.

"Listen, you don't wanna go messin' around there. Even a crazy-ass white boy like you who'd come down here lookin' for trouble oughta steer clear of that evil. There's some Satanic-ass shit going down in that place."

Of course, these cautionary words only stirred him even more. This time he even popped a boner at the thought of whatever horrors would surely await him on this severely homosexual parody of a spirit walk, this wannabe childfucker's crusade. On passing into the compound itself, whose door was of course, open, all traces of the outside world were eradicated. Here was a red-tinted realm where the fragrance of hibiscus flowers left one immediately half-narcotized in spite of its deceptive mildness.

There were no pews or seats of any kind, only mats on which nude couples lay, the men all in a state of turgid half-arousal but not yet copulating with their women. Almost as though they were waiting for some kind of starting bell. All the way in the back stood the source of all this Redness. At first he didn't understand. Thought it was just some kind of strange light fixture. But no. She was real and very much alive in spite of the bizarre state of her body; a teenage girl no older than 18 stood there, nude save for the garland of human skulls which adorned her, bearing a curved sword in her right hand and her own severed head in her left. Her skin was crimson and a kind of swirling reddish gold halo emanated from the stump of her severed neck.

"Welcome, O' pure one. O' beast of desire. O' child of lust. Come forth. Come to me."

As absurd as it was, this decapitated girl was calling out to him in a voice that rung out all bell-like from within his own skull in cool clear tones. An outside observer might assume she was some kind of sacrificial victim offered up to the insane whims of this cult, but they'd have had it backwards. She was in fact, their goddess, and her act of self-decapitation was what gave her sway over their very genitals and souls. Neophyte though he was, he instinctively felt that he was in the presence of some terrible alien divinity, and could do little more than comply. As he made his way across the room, cheers, whistles, applause, shouts, and chants erupted all around him. Most of them were in some obscure language he had no hope of understanding but the few that were in English clearly said "All hail our great and merciful mother of decapitation!" To an even greater extent than he'd previously assumed would be the case, it was clear that he had absolutely no power at all here. Nevertheless, he was soon face to stump with her.

"Your coming during this Yuga was foretold at the previous Samvartakalpa."

He of course, had no idea what those words meant.

"Come, the time is at hand, be rid of your clothes."

He did as he was told, shamefully exposing his disgusting fat blob of a body as well as his thoroughly inadequate genitals. Expecting to be mocked and jeered at, it was all he could do to hold back his tears.

"Raise your head, child. Your soul is pure, you are beautiful."

The dam broke and he found his face hot with tears. If she could see into his soul, he had no idea what she thought was pure or beautiful about it, but he could tell that she wasn't lying and that was all it took to utterly destroy him.

"The sun is the eye. The eye is the testicle. Let this offering mark the true dawn of our golden age."

Her blade shone for less than a second. Somehow his cock and balls had been cleanly severed from his body in one invisible motion. Instead of falling to the floor they levitated and combusted into a miniature sun which floated to the center of the room. This must've been the signal all those couples were waiting for, as they started fucking, wild as rutting hogs, as soon as they were illuminated by this second source of light. Strangely, he felt no pain even as he bled profusely. Even the loss of his genitals failed to register. Contrarily enough, he felt full in some way.

"There was once a group who called this procedure The Greater Seal, but for you we'll rename it. It'll be The Gate of Samadhi and it will bring you both life everlasting and myriad blessings wherever you may tread."

He nodded even as the loss of blood and increasing Redness of the room brought him to his knees. As his consciousness faded he saw a familiar smiling bearded face in the lefthand corner of the room. But that's strange, where did his rags from before go? Where'd he get that all-black getup? That trenchcoat? Those boots? And those aviators? All at once whatever sensation of peace he'd been granted through this ritual emasculation was instantly shattered with the feeling that he'd been set up somehow even though he chose to come here of his own volition, in spite of, or really, because of all the warning signs. Still, there was nothing to be done for the time being as his mind sank further and further into the ever-swelling Red.