Kali... The Dark One

[Greqoh]

Kali...The Dark One
by L. Greqoh


I don't know what it was that drew me into that room.
In a place with so many beautiful paintings, majestic busts and sculptures celebrating life, nature and divine inspiration, what perversity of spirit drew me to her?
I had been unsatisfied by the the many masterpieces in the museum. I passed indifferently by endless worn themes. I was unmoved by their pointless beauty and unstirred by the endless efforts of naive middle age piety.
I walked through the Asian gallery, desperate for something more profound, albeit alien to my western culture. There was harldy anyone in this section of the museum. My own steps were all that I heard.
Fantastic golden and bronze forms caught my eyes.
I passed many smiling and solemn Buddhas, beautiful Egyptian golden idols, jewelry and pottery. And then, alone in a forgotten section section-- she was.
At first it was just a macabre flicker of interest that seduced me to contemplate such a morbid and gruesome figure.
Her blood red eyes were wide in divine wrath, apparently made of some kind of gem stones. There was a third eye in her forehead.
Her expression was of utter blood lust, her tongue stretching out between the rows of pearl white fangs which adorned her mouth.
She had four arms, one holding a decapitated head, another held a long sword. The other two were out to the side giving peculiar hand signs.
The sign by her display said that she was "The terrifying aspect of the great mother goddess. The personification of death and destruction...Kali, the black one".
I looked at her twisted expression and instinctively wondered....what horrors had those eyes seen, long ago, in days now forgotten, in far away eastern lands. What horrors were committed before this idol's approving silent gaze?
I felt a chill overtake me as I marveled at her.
Students of the occult will tell you that objects sometimes retain a memory...of places or events that they have been connected with in the past. It is said that objects that are considered sacred or cursed may carry vibrations that some people can be sensitive to.
Now this statue was just another exhibit in a museum that people passed. She seemed to bear this indignity defiantly not like the other gods who had accepted the end of their reigns and were content to catch the occasional admiring gaze from one of the patrons visiting the museum.
No, her rage was still seething, her thirst for blood undiminished after all these years. I could feel she was merely waiting....biding her time.
These were the morbid thoughts that first came upon my imagination when I first saw her savage ebony form looking out at me.
I think looking back, that perhaps I had stared too deeply into those cold eyes. If only I would have cast my gaze upon some other display. I felt some sort of instincive alarm...some spiritual revolt.
And I became sure that as I looked into those hateful eyes they...in turn looked back at me.
As I turned to leave the room, my head began to throb. My face tingled, as if I were walking through spiderwebs...My legs grew unsteady as the room began to spin and grow dim.
At first the voice came like a whisper, hoarse and primal, a wicked hissing inside my brain. I could not undrstand the words.
The room began to take on a dark redish hue, as my head began to throb harder.
"Kill for me!" I clearly understood.
I turned, but no one was there.
I felt a chunk of ice in my stomach as my eyes once again met hers.
Again..."Kill...for....me.!"
Suddenly, it was as if my psyche was drowning.
Memories not my own intruded upon my mind, pressing themselves on me, as I sank and faded away...into an unearthly vision....

Under a blood red moon she dances....
Her sacred dance of life devouring life....
Crimson hibiscus flowers offer up the earth's blood at her feet...
as she tramples the creator gods, burning away their maya.
I know that she is queen of the void, endless and untouched,
the virgin Mother, who blinds men so that they may see. I hunger for the dark womb of she who dwells in an ocean of semen, she who loves the yingam, whose form is the yoni.
She whirls, throwing back her long and wild hair
bearing her fangs at all of creation....
She is queen of the void, clothed in infinite space!

I remember only pieces of what happened next.
I got up from the floor and went back into the cheerful western collections, where people mused impressionism, realism, and cheerful delusional works of spiritual immaturity.
I tapped a man on the back and, as he turned, I buried each of my thumbs in his eye sockets and began to shake his skull as the gore filled my hands, before the shocked faces of the other guests.
Within seconds his shriek had filled the room and people began to try to restrain me. I shook lose from them and grabbed another man by the back of the neck with my bloody hands. I sent his head crashing to the hard floor knocking him senseless.
The people recoiled from me in terror, silently, as mass shock took them.
I put my foot on the fallen man's back and, with strength I never knew I possessed, I began to pull on his head working it from side to side as his spine began to pop. I remember the sound; it was like the ripping of a head of lettuce. As his head came off he beagan to scream; the pitch raised up as his vocal chords were stretched out like a long string of taffy still connected to his body. I violently jerked the head free. His body fell to the ground twitching as a spray of blood shot across the floor. There were sobs and I think I heard a few people in the crowd vomiting, but no one dared approach. I could hear the calls for security.
I quickly walked unimpeded into the gallery where Kali was waiting, with my offering.
I held up the head for her approval and after climbing up I stuck it on the tip of her sword like an hors d'oeurve.
As I was admiring my work I began to regain my normal consciousness. The security officer came running upon me, knocking me to the ground and restraining me. As my eyes began to clear, and my mind was once more my own something happened that pushed me several of the witnesses to madness. Before and the astonished eyes of everyone watching...the impossible began to happen.
The ancient worn and neglected goddess...began impossibly to move! Her face unmistakenly began to take on a new expression....a smile.

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Happy Halloween from The Qlipothic Abyss- Macabre Tales Of Occult Supernatural Horror at:
http://qlipothica.tripod.com/