The bar was murky, filled with people with their haphazard drinking habits.

I joined them in the folly, perhaps to enjoy the feel of being a part of something or just to get into the habit of drinking again. Strange things happen when even a single drop of liquor pollutes the blood. Consuming the beverage, I observed the band that was playing on a small, dim stage. The musicians looked Asian, with dark almond-shaped eyes. Denim vests, the deep hues stained with sweat and determination. Ripped pants, the threads flailing about like textile icicles. The name of the band was simplistic, yet confusing. HDAA or something like that. Letters that have meaning. Perplexity was all around, as I struggled to finish my drink and head out upstairs to watch another band play. Whispers were all around, swathing the lewd atmosphere with a sinister aura. Creatures lurk beneath the surface, immoral and unforgiving. It seems as though malice is perforating through the invisible threads, waiting to be released upon the tormented wretchedness that is Earth. Tick tick tick…the clock is anxiously counting. I walk down some stairs, the shiny blackness discolored from the lengthy years of footsteps. A photographer wishes to take a picture of me, his eyes hungry for the carrion of a human story. I do not see him and continue walking, turning his photograph into a peculiar blur. At last, I stand before the grand stage upstairs. There is something sickening about the way that the drapery hangs above the stage, twisted and disfigured in a way that suggests a vicious manslaughter. There is an abstract system of the cloths. Some are thin black veils much like widows wear at funerals of husbands they never loved. Others are more substantial, similar to the velvety consistency of animal hide. The floor is made of dark wood, its rich hues illuminated by the random rays of light from the projectors. The light appears to be coming from everywhere and nowhere, since the two projectors are placed in such a way that the thicker cloth hides it well. The outcome is a sentiment of an eerie presence, for it appears as though a vile organism is glowering on this theatre of cruelty. A being with eyes that are smeared with the disturbing tint of the colour red. The pungent smell of blood emerges from this beast. Eyes that are bleeding the morality of death, its scarlet shade mesmerizing the audience. From the shadows on the left side of the platform, a blemished human form walks out. The man-beast is above average height and with the physique of a demon-god, walking proudly towards the centre of the space. His lower body is enrobed with muted leather, the skin of a mammal. On his feet, are war boots made out of numerous pleats of animal skin. On his legs

are thick shrouds of leather. Around the waist, in the front and in the back, are two sheets of the same leather placed to look like a war-skirt, resembling the combat attire of ancient civilizations. The waist is also encircled by lengths of animal skin that hold a skull in the space below the belly of the man-beast. The skull belongs to a goat and is painted black, reflecting nothing but the obscurity. The torso is naked, the flesh shimmering with speckles of grime and vigor. The face is hidden behind long ochre-coloured hair, flowing ruthlessly across the man-beast’s back. The hair occasionally pastes itself on his back and chest, due to the fervor of the miasma. The musky perfume of putrefaction and conquest lingers in the air. The face is concealed behind an undecipherable layer of clay and muck. The eyes are filled with an ocean of pain that is to be brought upon this world. The foul shade of the turquoise tells of a promise to annihilate that which the man-beast deems unnecessary and unfit for survival. The eyes tell the story of a disastrous future that is to befall mankind. A future that it has brought upon itself. A future that is pure destruction and chaos. A future that is inexorable. The apocalypse of the universe. The man-beast puts his hands out of sight, such that the audience cannot tell whether they are tied or whether he has a weapon. There is a hint of a smile on his face, a look of satisfaction. He waits for a second, and the firestorm melodies begin. A momentary lapse of cacophonous sounds, calling upon the primeval spirits. Then the singing begins. Rasping, it seems to be emerging from the heart of the man-beast. As it intensifies, the larynx becomes a pathway to the belly of the beast. The singing is reminiscent of sounds that were previously created, such as those of Keep of Kalessin and Behemoth, with a touch of Emperor. Meanwhile, the music is laced with the raw magnificance of primal black metal as well as some more antique sounds from eras gone by. There are instants when one can hear music that appears to be on a separate level, as though there are numerous layers to the songs. It is as though there is something that is heard on a subatomic level, a secret that is sowed into the blueprint of the song. The patterns of the music is distinct and unique, as is the way in which the structure are constructed. It is something that has never been done before. The front of the stage is empty, even though the music is heard. The rest of the musicians are behind the drapes. At times the drummer can be seen, an obscure form behind a patchwork of devil’s cloth. His stand is laced on a high pedestal such that he appears to be between the eyes

of the red-eyed beast that the stage resembles. The guitarist is behind the curtains on the left, whereas the bassist is behind those on the right. The audience barely gets a glimpse of them, since they are almost completely surrounded by the dusk of the cloths. A pandemonium takes place, as every member of the crowd runs away, to the sides. I stand behind a column and watch what is happening on stage. Security guards and agents of the law are running towards the ban-beast, attempting to take him down. The individuals scatter themselves around and fall to the ground. The man-beast indeed was in possession of a weapon or rather, a few weapons. Without mercy, he obliterates the living breath from the men keeping him down. He rips out their hearts and partakes of the pumping organs. He is ecstatic from the pleasure of the kill as well as the taste of the corrupted humans. In a matter of seconds, he leaps up onto the stage and grabs his microphone, howling out a heinous mass in a language these mortals did not understand. Throughout the entire ordeal, the music was never interrupted, even when the man-beast was on the ground below. The dissonant might is triumphant, as the portal to the destruction of Mankind has been opened. In fear and solitude, those who were present were listening to the story of their end.

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