Coral Hull: Prose: Notes From The Big Park: The Monster Of Self Hatred

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: NOTES FROM THE BIG PARK
THE MONSTER OF SELF HATRED

The monster chased me all the way from the Adelaide greenbelt. He shot up household stairs like an arrow and followed the driveways to where I lived. He was slick, a slightly built man. A chain-smoker by nature, one of those blonde mousy-haired types who smokes until they go bald, their facial skin pasty, the nicotine patches yellowing his finger and thumb tips, the rotting teeth and thin-lipped crooked smile. His body is lean, taut and white, as hard as a bullet he slips into muscle in order to make a clean killing. He's fast and although he is small, he is strong enough to beat up on an elephant. His primary motivation was to appear in front of me smiling, proving again that I could not escape him. His internal organs are blackened by smoke, a throbbing pulsing factory of tar. I had worked inside the factories of his kind with damaging results. Soon I was part of that very same machinery. One day I saw myself in a mirror and fled. I requested that all mirrors in all houses that I visited be covered with blankets. Mirrors are the way into other worlds. In the outback my grandmother used to cover her family up with blankets and sheets when the big electrical storms came to Brewarrina. Summer lightning coiled and searched out mirrors and tried to travel into them to a world more conductible to its current. It tried to hold the earth within its tentacles of pink static. What would happen if through its entry into mirrors, lightning connected all of the worlds in this fashion like some kind of cosmic string? Would I become the knife man of my dreams whom I escaped from? I struggled up from the swelling waters of my unconscious. My ambition was to wake up in my room alone. Instead I was plunged back down into the world of escape routes to wrestle the knife man, all my mother's hatred, all my own. My dreamscape hadn't finished with me. I was walking through a park drinking a bottle of port. I saw a big awkward man walking across the way. He seemed a little different. I called him over, 'hey, excuse me, you can have this.' I handed him the bottle. I thought he might like it. I had only taken a sip. I smiled and kept walking. He looked like a harmless odd-ball, a drunk. But he turned out to be the monster of inner madness, unstoppable except through a change of character. He pursued me for days. He hated me for bringing him to life, my false generosity and smug kindness. He kicked down doors and rolled the city cars, came at me like an avalanche with powerful gripping hands as large as ship rope knots. His purpose was to crush. My mistake was in giving something to him in the first place, in bringing him to life. He followed me into my bedroom as I tried to wake up. I reached out to switch off the alarm clock. His shadow standing in a corner. When I sunk back down into sleep he had been approaching an unlocked door. I shouted at the people inside the building, 'Why didn't you keep that door locked!' I was still holding the best position of defense, but stupidly crying out, for somebody stop him. These two escapes didn't turn me on.

    

This website is part of my personal testimony that has been guided by The Holy Spirit and written in Jesus' name.

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