Klarkash-Ton

Klarkash-Ton. The darkness be my friend, my keeper, my protector and my only god. And Like a babe I wrapped myself within this dark embrace, nuzzling gladly at its icy breast where I sought that familiar sticky dark fluid which oozed like a fine wine from within it. Shortly after quenching my thirst, I felt drowsy, like I was in a drug induced dream state, and I began to see flashes of crimson, orange, and mauve streaming about me in waves. I could hear voices high pitched, low guttural, reverberating around me, and all chanting in unison two words over and over again “White worm, white worm, white worm, white worm.” followed by the words, “White worm is within thee.” And at that second a deathly silence did fall.

I sank to my knees and with my hands I began automatically to dig at the rocks like something possessed, I could not draw a halt to my crazed actions. First my flesh ripped from my bones in bloody chunks of gore, and I felt no pain, in fact I believe I began to chuckle to myself hysterically as the blood poured and spurted from my mutilated fingers. After a short time of this frenzied activity I was all the way down to my bones, and obviously having no impact whatsoever on the solid granite rocks that I had pounded at so furiously. And my bones then were next and they began to crack and splinter on impact as still I incessantly pummeled at the rocks of which now were covered in pools of my congealing sticky blood .On and on this insanity went, as my arms slowly began to disintegrate before my disbelieving shocked eyes, and now I was up to my elbows and still no sign of relenting, until after what seemed like hours my arms were no more, and as abruptly as this madness had started it ceased. But still feeling possessed by some otherworldly force I then sank down onto my belly and my body began to rive, and slip along the rocks with a flexibility I never knew I had possessed.

And like a hammer blow to my head I suddenly realised that I was now born again as a white worm, and looking horrifyingly at my skin I could see that it shone with a scaly milk white pallor, and I screamed at the darkness but no sound came from my mouth which had now transformed into a slit within my now flat white head. And my body with great speed and agility darted out of all my control into the darkness of the bowels of my new home, deep within the legendary mountains of madness, where I would lie in wait for the coming of the wizards of which I would consume most heartily.

Matthew J. Hewitt is one of the much acclaimed cemetery poets, and is spoken of in the press as the new king of British dark poetry, born in 1968 this young poets critical acclaim are as follows:

The great poet Bruce Boston says, "Hewitt's work has potential and emotion". Simon Clark, famous British horror writer, tipped as the new Stephen King, says of the poem The Fire Of Insanity, "This is a piece of real power, rich in imagery, sure to be published," of the poem Pan, Clark says "incredible vivid imagery," and of the poem It Came From The Swamp an intensely visual piece in a style that you seem to be claiming for your own." Andy Cox editor of T.T.A. press says, "Hewitt’s poetry is brilliant, the best I have ever read."

Hewitt’s writing has also been compared to author Lord Dunsany by Australian magazine Redsine, and also has been considered as the new Dante. Hewitt collected second prize in the first Fiction Inferno short story competition, and he is the winner of the best poem competition on the Demonminds site. Several of Hewitt’s poems are due out in an anthology published by Double Dragon publishers this will be available through W. H. Smiths, Borders, Amazon, Barnes and Noble bookstores etc.

Find more by Matthew J Hewitt in the Author Index.

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