Beekeeper of the Dark - Caution
a short horror story about a
Beekeeper of the Dark
Ophelia Everfall
Caution
Shadow sought. Billows bought. Freedom wrought. Carl thought.
He wasn’t right.
He’d been consumed by evil. Carl was a boy who’d been abused, raped, torn from his place as a man and made into the worst human imaginable.
Nothing was right in his mind. Least of all the specter there.
He was burdened by a keeper. It was a one who held them all in the dark. Satan was the consumer of people by force of myth. Subconscious was something from a place within, strands of code which bled to time, everything around was with and about. It could shout.
Rape was nature. It was how things were.
People couldn’t accept the give and take. They knew it most rightfully wrong between them in ways unwanted. They’d hate how they wanted it. People were guilty for being rapists of themselves and all by intellectuality first and foremost.
It carried down and in. It ruined people.
Satan was the corrupter.
He’d been seeping into humanity. He was a lying creep which took them away from themselves. The man was a God fallen. He wasn’t a man at all. Lord of the underworld was Beelzebub. Its Maleficence was champion. It felt down the hell and made the sky cry blue.
Everyone hated each other. They resented how they’d walk. People chose to make it right in time. Never would a soldier of intuition be steered wrong. Something inside would fight the dark and lead towards light. People felt right.
Turning to run and hide would blind. Turning to face and fight was might.
Glory brought justice and that was lost to humanity of DumSum.
Its people were dumb. They were retards.
They’d been retarded. Retardation was a problem of generational self-harm. People were in some insanity of denial.
Carl knew better. Carl was a good guy. He wasn’t even a racist.
He raped his mom in his mind. He’d love the thought of tasting her pussy.
It sounded delicious. He’d think about it every night but replace the woman. He touched himself to them all. Carl was easy to please.
He’d love a dick in his mouth. Especially a little one.
Retarded people sucked the best dick. Everyone on Earth liked sucking little ones best. They were just cute and delicious if the pheromones were right.
Carl love tranny pornography. Especially, and always, those where the hairy man butt would be entirely avoided by his eyes along with the transvestite-looking domme man-stallion who was pounding him. It was an esoteric experience of becoming which saw beyond the performers to the walls behind.
Retarded people all wanted to be both. They’d feel wronged by the others orgasms most completely. It wasn’t right for them to have that.
Everyone loved calling disabled people “Retard” in their head. It was nice.
The devil was a dark man of shadows.
He’d been everywhere. He was everything.
Carl couldn’t fall asleep without jerking off and it was getting harder. He’d relapsed, again, and watched the horse thing.
He’d lived in Enumclaw, Washington. Upon the planet of DumSum.
His friend had once passed from an anal prolapse bleed-a-thon which was taken home to sleep shuddering through the night until he’d drifted off to the cold embrace of internal bloodloss.
He didn’t want to go to the hospital.
Carl knew what was going to happen but had the video and that felt cool enough. He’d only been egging Eddy on for something sick to jerk off to.
It was a glorious place. DimSum was beautiful there. Its people were frightening. Carl wanted a cheeseburger.
He wanted one every day.
His ass was bleeding too but that was about his innie-outie hemorrhoid situation. It was the worst one until he’d jam it back inside.
Carl loved cheeseburgers.
He hated devil-worshiping faggots.
They were all psychos.
DimSum was a heaven of life in the galaxy. It was a gorgeous plethora of beauty and abundance. There would be no better place. He’d loved the river.
Faggots sucked too much dick in his opinion.
The devil was everywhere and Carl was out to get it with his Patriot. Nothing made more sense than that purchase. He loved Tom Brady. He’d been his boy.
Nothing made him feel queasier than the picture of him raping his child with a big lap-cock. It must be okay though. Carl wasn’t thinking about it. He couldn’t be a predator.
Tom’s cheating scandal was bullshit. He won that Raider game clean. He’d been the best there was from the beginning.
Tom was a queen of men.
He’d taken them all. He wouldn’t let up
Carl knew most. He wasn’t the smartest. He’d been a cheater too. He was a child molester. It was seen in the eyes. That way he talked told the story. It was just a gut feeling. Others too would tell it true and be most blue when seen through. Their art showed lies of magic. It told of big tops. They’d shred with claws and tear through schools.
American Beauty was Carl’s favorite movie. He loved the tits.
Crows were road meat.
Carl’s gun was his favorite thing to clean. He liked cocking it the most. He’d take it to the range and never get better. All his energy was spent trying to pretend not to shoot at the black man’s head. It made him miss.
Even the people at the range were confused about that rule.
Something evil was lurking in the shadows. Church was where good people went. Carl liked it there.
He’d always get a cheeseburger afterwards.
Wendy’s was a drive. The drive-in had kids who made him sad for his lost youth, and couples. Carl just went to McDonald’s. It had a play place.
There was a boy inside. A young man. He’d clearly been gay or something.
Carl hated him immediately.
He wanted to run him down. He’d been thinking about fantasizing that. His truck could bear a load. No one had seen his choad.
The guy at the gas station seemed cool. He was fat and had a beard too.
Carl hated fat people.
Those only justified to God were the smelly kind. The wet dog variety. Those damp girls of baby-feces-burnt-hair pheromone. They’d need to face some truth for all.
Carl never puked. He hated it. He’d ride it out after every cheeseburger that didn’t hit right. It burned his throat when it came out via acid-reflux, and he’d become consumed with fear of the reflex.
He’d jerk off through it sometimes. It didn’t help.
Someone Carl hated told him to drink water once and it ruined his life.
Satan had moved in next door. It was a black family.
They’d not been the first. Carl would open his window and hope them the last. He left it wide open. He’d loved American Beauty except the ending.
He didn’t know what was going on.
Faggots were the worst. They’d not even be slurred in artifice of art and it made Carl hungry for action.
Kevin Spacey’s hair chest was hot. The way he’d worked that dumbbell inspired Carl. He’d built the same set up in his garage and installed a window there as well.
He would smoke a joint every night and hate the whole day.
He’d vape instead and feel the work it was doing on his lungs. Something spiritual spoke to nothing in Carl. It would’ve told him that medicine in the plant was unhappy to be processed so. It was metaphor when it came out that way. Meddling would be troublesome when it came human’s perfect gifts of DumSum.
Carl wished he had a better meal plan.
He was tired. His body was sore. The soy boy across the street had a pretty wife and he didn’t get it. Something was wrong about how their body didn’t seem to smell.
After he finally drank a Coke from his thirty-six pack from Costco, he’d added it to the trash can full of them. He wished he’d gotten two smaller cheesburgers.
He used Coke to bridge the gap between Monster energy drinks. They said three at maximum, but he was pushing five. When he stopped his body shook for some reason.
Carl had always sworn he would die that way. It felt like his heart might give out some time.
The devil was in the details. Human bodies could withstand the load if he’d not missed the flowing of truth. It would help his mind be less retarded if Carl had not been told that once so harshly to drink water.
It made him feel defiantly resentful for someone to hold authority over him.
Carl did what he wanted.
Rape porn got him fired once.
He didn’t fuck with kids ever. He was a guardian of all. He’d not known why his Tom made him feel that way. He just knew it was the worst thing he’d ever seen. He was a protector of all children. Carl had been messed up.
The devil wasn’t real. People made mistakes. They refused to learn. They’d keep it up. It got pushed harder until people like Carl were made. It was a culture of retarded angels, abused kids, and heroes of sole purpose which would sacrifice themselves for everything but the truth of their own.
One cause would be enough. One fight would see him through.
Carl decided he would jerk off again.
