The Harvester Read online

  BLOOD BOUND BOOKS

  Copyright © 2015 by K. Trap Jones

  All rights reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Artwork by Andrej Bartulovic

  Interior Layout by Lori Michelle

  www.theauthorsalley.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  Visit us on the web at:

  www.bloodboundbooks.net

  ALSO FROM BLOOD BOUND BOOKS:

  400 Days of Oppression by Wrath James White

  Habeas Corpse by Nikki Hopeman

  Loveless by Dev Jarrett

  The Sinner by K. Trap Jones

  Mother’s Boys by Daniel I. Russell

  Knuckle Supper by Drew Stepek

  Sons of the Pope by Daniel O’Connor

  Dolls by KJ Moore

  At the End of All Things by Stony Graves

  The Return by David A Riley

  Fallow Ground by Michael James McFarland

  The Black Land by MJ Wesolowski

  Cradle of the Dead by Roger Jackson

  Dark Waves by Simon Kearns

  *NOTE*

  Due to the unique formatting of this book, it is best to set your Kindle to LANDSCAPE mode. In newer models, just turn the device and hold it horizontally.

  FOR MY WIFE ROBYN AND MY THREE SONS: CHASE, HUNTER AND AYDEN.

  When a man lies, he murders some part of the world.

  These are the pale deaths which men miscall their lives.

  All this I cannot bear to witness any longer.

  Cannot the Kingdom of Salvation take me home?

  —Paul Gerhardt (1607–1667)

  —Adapted by Cliff Burton (1962–1986)

  To Live Is To Die, Metallica (1988)

  PREFACE

  Released from his isolation, the farmer chosen by God to test the boundaries of the seven deadly sins and their associated demons is burdened with the task of unleashing sin upon mankind. The following are his seven translated entries within their original narrative state.

  I: DEPRESSION

  As I wait and bleed,

  Hidden well within my darkened cave,

  The angels of Heaven converge down upon me.

  Servants of God, burdened with the task of my retrieval.

  I have displeased God and his hand of vengeance

  Seeks to punish me for the path I have chosen to travel.

  All of my fellow demons are gone,

  Stolen by angels through the cracks in the sky.

  My realm lays in ruins,

  Littered with the corpses of my enemies.

  My palace has been reaped from the cavern.

  All hope is gone, all for the choices I have made.

  I have sought shelter within the trenches of my kingdom

  So that I may continue my tale.

  Many centuries have passed

  Since I last held this quill within my hand.

  It greets me like a long lost friend

  And shows eagerness to begin a new relationship.

  One not forged from fear,

  But united in conviction and companionship.

  My earlier entries spoke of confusion and resentment.

  You will find none of that now.

  If it is the truth that you seek,

  Then you shall discover it.

  If it is understanding that you desire,

  It will greet you unconditionally.

  One must first comprehend the path in which I chose.

  One must first dive down within the pit of my kingdom,

  Into the belly of the beast where you will know my rise.

  Let us begin first where I ended; my release from the cave.

  I must hurry, as I can hear the angels approaching.

  ***

  Remembering my name of Satan

  Was a blessing, but like all blessings,

  It was short lived.

  After successfully testing the boundaries

  Of the seven deadly sins, I was allowed freedom.

  The confusion about my new task

  Of releasing sin upon mankind

  Weighed heavy upon my mind, so much so

  That I entered a state of sheer depression.

  Roaming aimlessly without direction,

  I came upon a small village in search of wine.

  The mere thought of the sweet nectar

  Moistened my mouth and salivated my visions.

  To have it pass through my lips

  And coat my tongue inspired me.

  I noticed a lone villager stumbling, his speech slurred.

  With his hands outreached, he spoke in broken words.

  I was not interested in his language

  But his mouth leaked the aroma I desired.

  Through his rambling,

  I asked him to show me where he had been.

  His obliged and led me from the courtyard

  Toward the handle of a door within a small inlet.

  The smell of the scent invigorated my senses,

  Like a warm breeze winding through a field of fruit.

  My friend pushed through the thickened wooden door

  As a gust of sweet nectar caressed my face.

  Upon my entrance, I was greeted by stares.

  Their eyes meant nothing, but still they judged,

  Deciphering my very being to see if I was like them.

  I looked none of them in the eye,

  As they were obstacles on my quest for liquid goodness.

  I sat alongside my friend as a large burly man

  Placed a goblet sloshing with red wine in front of me.

  Through my nose the smell traveled;

  My eyes closing with each inhale.

  With each swig, I felt my mind wander.

  I was set adrift in a vast sea of disillusion.

  I drank more in hopes to relieve my mind.

  However, the next four brought about a depression

  Of which I would never recover.

  The edge between turmoil and realism became distant.

  The canyon widened with every drop that slid down my throat.

  My heart became full of sorrow and remorse

  For memories I could not claim as my own.

  Visions of a city;

  Depictions of large caverns and a troubled river

  Plagued the decayed walls of where I resided.

  I could not understand them nor relate, but they felt true.

  The far wall crumbled, revealing

  A large field spanning as far as I could see.

  The land was littered with bones,

  Trampled upon by crowds of souls

  Roaming aimlessly in the same direction.

  I turned back around to shelter myself.

  I felt that what I was seeing were not my memories,

  But those of someone else.

  I shifted and looked again.

  A labyrinth pf darkness replaced the fields.

  The blackness disrupted my stomach as I held my chest.

  The pain of my existence became unbearable.

  My mind offered me no friendly advice;

  Instead, it merely tormented me with more visions.

  The pain and suffering I endured

  Ventured back to me as I tipped the goblet.

  Every gulp, every drop of the poison

  Clouded my reasoning and butchered my dreams.

  I drank to forget, but it would also serve

  As the source of my remembrance.

 
I saw the serpent of anger swimming around in circles

  Within the red sea of the goblet

  But still I drank from the contaminated source.

  I felt the serpent wind its way down my throat.

  I was seeking blindness; instead I received full vision.

  More serpents slithered through the door

  With elongated bodies that entwined themselves

  Amongst the legs of the people and chairs.

  Their mouths hissing as they moved.

  Their forked tongues lashing out to touch the ankles.

  The shadows shifted in the room

  Without the change of sun.

  The candles flickered

  Without the help from the wind.

  The mouths of the villagers were moving,

  But no sound was heard.

  I turned to my newfound friend

  As his lips rambled at a fast pace.

  I stared at his tongue in hopes to hear,

  But my ears were deceiving me.

  A crackling noise, so distinct, grabbed my attention.

  I looked closely to my goblet

  As I saw small cracks etch along the metal.

  Red droplets leaked through and fell down the stem.

  Strange happenings were stirring,

  Some of my past, some I could not understand.

  My studies of the seven sins seeped into the place

  And sidled up to me like an unwelcome guest.

  The bitter remorse and heavy damnation

  Of my thoughts shielded my judgment

  And twisted my visions away from an understanding.

  I began to question myself

  And resented my mind for what it was portraying.

  The villagers each transformed into a figure of my past.

  Amon and Beelzebub sat against the near wall.

  Leviathan and Asmodeus spoke in the corner.

  Mammon and Belphegor had just walked in.

  And Lucifer served me from behind the counter.

  Not only the demons, but more appeared.

  The wealthy man I killed in wrath, stood by me

  With my daggers still protruding from his chest.

  The beloved maiden of lust appeared

  Holding her heart within her hands,

  Pleading with me to make her whole again.

  I could not decipher whether the visions were real,

  So I accepted another goblet of wine from Lucifer

  And tried to make a truce with my troubled mind.

  I closed my eyes to pray for the gift of reasoning.

  God answered me with more rapid visions

  Of death and betrayal; all by my hands.

  I held my head in hopes to ease the pain.

  I could sense them surrounding me.

  I kept my eyes sealed shut.

  I wanted to kill them all.

  I wanted to watch them all die a slow death;

  To clench each of their throats

  Until their eyes rolled back into their heads.

  My skin boiled from their nearness.

  Suffocation by sharing the same air

  Trembled my hands and had me seeking a way out.

  Instead, I simply opened my eyes.

  Surrounded by people,

  My arm was engulfed in flames.

  Their eyes were upon me with an astonished gaze.

  Questions, as to why I felt no pain,

  Spilled from the crowd.

  I hesitantly looked down to my arm

  With my clothing frayed and my flesh melting.

  It was true, I felt no pain.

  I saw one demon from my past staring back at me.

  Lucifer smiled while holding a candle.

  No reasoning was said, no reaction was given.

  He simply vanished and left me alone to explain.

  The other villagers did not leave as quickly.

  They tried to rationally think of a reason

  As to why I had no reaction to a burning arm.

  My friend, however, offered a solution

  That would not serve me well.

  He mentioned a tale of a demon so vile

  That fire could not scar him.

  Silence fell upon the room

  As my own judging eyes pierced his skull.

  The others settled on the same assumption.

  Apparently, they did not care for demons;

  I was immediately grabbed by the angry mob

  And dragged to the floor

  Where they secured each of my limbs.

  I made it easy for them.

  My depression was in full control of my mind;

  Therefore I offered no fight.

  Maybe they could provide me with what I wanted:

  A simple death.

  My troubled emotions allowed the attacks,

  But they would have to use more

  To even stir my conscience.

  I had been through much worse;

  I would not be threatened by mortal hands.

  With their fists and feet becoming bruised,

  And their mouths gasping for air,

  They used chairs and table legs to inflict more pain.

  When the physical onslaught proved unsuccessful,

  They pulled my body outside

  Toward the river that flowed next to the village.

  Two large men dragged me into the water.

  Without remorse, they submerged me with ease.

  Again, I offered no fight.

  Maybe my immortality could be removed by the water.

  I figured I would allow them to try.

  My body became limp, not due to death,

  But rather because of my lack of care.

  A gasp came over the crowd watching ashore

  When I was lifted from the water and smiled at them.

  My two captors submerged me again.

  It was quiet and peaceful under the surface

  As the water sealed my ears.

  The annoying chatter was replaced

  With the sublime sound of silence.

  The coolness of the water soothed my skin

  And offered tranquility to my healing bones.

  With no sounds to be heard, the beating of my slowing heart

  Provided a rhythm and something tangible to relate to.

  Instead of holding my breath, I opened my mouth

  To allow the water to freely flow down my throat.

  Drowning was not my first choice for death,

  But under the circumstances,

  I thought I had nothing else to lose.

  They interrupted my serenity by lifting me up again.

  One of them turned my face hoping to see me dead,

  But a raised eyebrow was what I provided.

  At that point, all doubts of my demon ability had vanished.

  Even the non-believers were reassured.

  The river was not the answer,

  So I was dragged back up the rocky river bank.

  My skin tore across the jagged terrain.

  Back into the courtyard we went

  Where I was held by my throat against a column

  While my arms were pulled backwards and bound.

  Satisfied with my imprisonment and inability to move,

  They talked about what fate I should have next.

  Branches and rotted brush were piled at my feet

  With a ring of torch bearing men standing near.

  Their idea was to burn my demon corpse

  And send the remnants of my soul to God.

  God would be ever thankful

  To each who took the life of a demon.

  The ideas were the basis for my slaughter;

  The reasoning behind the madness of the situation.

  As the torches lit up their faces,

  I gazed upon their mannerisms

  For a sense of remorse or pity.

  Much like in the river, I found none.

  As I
watched the torches fall upon the kindling,

  I was enamored by the twirling smoke trails.

  The fire rose to collect my lower clothing as its own

  With the smoke blackening from the material.

  The observers were getting impatient.

  My reaction was not what they had envisioned.

  My death would not come through fire.

  The heat singed my flesh, but offered me no harm.

  Still believing in an obscured concept,

  They smoldered the blaze with water.

  Through the damp, thickened smoke, I could see that

  A new plan was being accepted.

  Again they gathered directly in front of the column

  For a brief meeting about my demise.

  I saw one of them run off into a nearby house.

  He soon reappeared with a wooden stake.

  They passed the stake between them

  As no one had the courage for the task at hand.

  It fell to the ground with no one claiming ownership.

  Frustration attacked the crowd as they feared

  The disappointment of God

  And the suffering they would all endure as a result.

  A large brawny man appeared and grabbed the stake.

  With words of appeasing God,

  He held the stake up high for all to see.

  Silence fell within the courtyard

  With no one fighting the decision

  As there were no other volunteers.

  He stepped before me with a little hesitation.

  He reminded me of myself

  With eyes of coal and a heavy hand.

  A moment of calm came over the crowd

  Wondering whether the man was up for the task.

  My appearance proved difficult for him;

  I was not the sharpened tooth, ravenous beast

  That their minds imagined me as.

  My flesh was that of theirs;

  My bone was that of theirs;

  My speech was that of theirs,

  But my mind and soul were not.

  The man demanded my face be hidden.

  He did not want to see my eyes while murdering me.

  An act of kindness on my part or weakness on his.

  Either had no real meaning to me.

  The chosen one walked out of sight, before returning

  With a brown satchel saturated with blood,

  So much so that excess left a trail.

  The man walked up to me with a disgusted look

  Embedded on his face as he reached inside,

  Revealing a severed goat’s head.

  The weak stomachs of the crowd showed no mercy.

  My initial thought was why the village would have had

  A severed goat’s head available?