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Chicago Land- In the Belly of the Beast

Chicago Land, in the belly of the beast, shots are fired, bodies crumble up; welcome to the land of the dead and the soon departed. Automatic bursts of transparent light, flashes in the dark; waking, shaking, hunkered down in the night behind the barricades, windows shut tight.

Bullets fly, bodies are vaporized into a sprayed mist, splattered on a nameless street corner. Crimson shades of glowing red explode outwards, spent shells litter the ground, sounds swish in pockets of air to the echo of fleeing footsteps.

Broadcast news is repeated across a spectrum of wave lengths into a cityscape of blinding colors trapped together and apart. People move in a steady stream flush against glittering lights in manmade canyons of buildings, giant erector sets of steel and concrete.

Shadows crunch down on streets of engineered chaos, enflamed by the steady beat of flash cars rumbling past empty tenements, sounding like a tidal wave ripping ashore, waking everything in its path. Emotions bleed through open wounds that never close, covering streets in a blanket with the dead and dying.

Light transfers the black creatures of night emerging from their submerged dungeons to challenge the dark, raised shields, body armor pierced red with hollow points as armies storm the ramparts and bodies sag, flung backwards, blinded by unknown enemies and the slightest slight.

Chicago Land, in the belly of the beast; a world of close in combat, and the soon to be dead don’t know tomorrow is still another day away.

Let the prayers begin for them.

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