Badness

Ron Koppelberger

Badness

The sense of excitement in him was hued a charcoal shade of black. He was a voyager, a landlord in the desert abode of disorder and mayhem. He had waited a thousand years and a thousand thousand lives for his chance at freedom. He was the dissident dweller, the innate hearth of evil intent, the spirit bearing gifts of corrupt cloven angst.
The vast savannah of wheat and saffron amber ramble was a direct contradiction to the arid, waterless plains of desolation he was confined to, bound by the chains of divine purposeful angels.
He was badness, plain and simple badness. The breach was at the epicenter of the saffron grain fields, descried by a circle of bloodstained stones and the bones of both animal and man. Bone dust dirty dirge he thought as he looked at the enormous crucifix and chain that guarded the spot. He imagined the great maw dividing the egress as the plains burned with his fury. He would requite the sins of time with his affection.
The badness settled in and waited as the man and wolf approached the egress. He would watch and wait for the summons.
The pair passed the entrance to desolation on their way in quest of third heaven and the city of sinless wonder. Momentum carried them through on angel wings as fiery eyes followed their progress.