Matauranga Katoa

Water dripped from the ceiling pooling on the floor, steam rising from the puddles into the hot humid air. Rough stone hewn walls wet with moisture rose to a ceiling thick with hanging moss. A dim greenish light pushed its way into the room from a small entrance high on the far wall. The light only illuimated the ceiling and part of the floor opposite the opening. Movement could be heard in the dark areas of the room. A small scuttling sound like dice being thrown across a board, and in the distance a faint tapping, rhythmic and never ending. The air was dense, and heavy with moisture, smelling of sickly sweet perfume laced with aniseed.
The scuttling again, this time on the other side, little closer. It stops, a faint grinding, glass on stone. A whisper, soft breathless coarse, “Knick nac padding wack give a dog a bone”. I have no sense of body, presence. But I do exist, as I feel the sound of the whisper in my teeth, deep in their roots.
Movement, closer same side. “This old man he played three, he played nic nak on … spinnnne” I can feel the words creeping along my skin, little ants crawling up my spine.
“This old man he played four, he played nic nak on a door……..sneak in find you leech in ear, hold your tongue, Shhhh, Shhhhh its all good, you are safe”
“This old man he played five, he played nic nak on a hive……..Parasites eat you alive”
I scream the words are not words, my skin is on fire. I feel others, things inside me moving. I know I have pieces of self-missing.
“This old man he played six, he played nic nak on a stick…………slide the stick rough with splinters along your belly and deep into the belly button, deep into you hole of feeding, turning twisting splintering, churning inside, scrapping against the spine”
No no no no no, these are not words THEY ARE HAPPINING……STOP please stop no don’t I can’t just no please STOP, I scream there is no logic to my mind its gibberish, broken. Scrapping my bones touching my core breaking me twisting my guts. Thick hot blood fills my throat and spills from my mouth running down my cheeks filling my ears. I cant scream, only gurgle. Spitting, can’t breathe, choking on my own blood and bile. Something is crawling inside my eye.
“This old man he played seven, he played nic nak on a the gates of heaven….”Heaven” a different voice for of power and light….”This shall be no more, release him, release his mind Fiend. Through radiance and fire, sun and moon, return to the pit, fiend of doom. RELEASE THE MORTAL YOU SHALL NOT HOLD SWAY HERE”
“No, this thing is mine. I shall feast on his terror slide my fingers under his skin, peel it back and lick his bones. Scrap his nerves with my nails. We will be his life, sour hot milk will be feed to this mangled baby” Voice still a rasping whisper, but screeching to me.
“Banish, I banish you” Ahh the angelic, the power of the sun. “BEGONE foul retched thing of Sulphur and ichor. BEGONE.
Warmth washes over me. The crawling slithering gnawing filters out of my being. I am filled with life and light.
“You wake from your torpor, you shall be my vessel, grow walk the lands of men, and we shall carry out the great purpose” the voice is still Angelic and full of presence, and I fill its warmth, but I also feel the lack of emotion. This being pulled me from the center of madness and pain, but for what, it does not care or feel for me, it is beyond my comprehension. I am a puppet once more. Before I am even born my soul has been fort over. And I know that no matter who or what wins I have lost.