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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2131 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 33
Title: KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr Naked
Rating: NC17/AU
Pairing: everyone and then some more
Disclaimer: I was smoking some really good stuff when I came up with this.
Betas: Hannelore_K

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Part III – Just Like You Imagined

Chapter 32.

Emerging a few inches away from my feet and appearing endless – the tallest gates ever. They are made of what looks like silver, with millions of scenes carved on them. But this sight gives me a feeling of comfort. We must be finally there, at the castle.

I look around to see the others standing behind me and staring at the immense gates – the beginning of the end.

“It worked!” I whisper, happy, but confused.

But no one answers; they seem too caught up in looking at each and every small carving on those huge doors. I look too; those scenes are depicting something that I feel is very familiar to me.

“That’s the creation of our world as imagined by Christians,” starts Flake on a choked-by-amazement whisper as he points to a scene at the bottom of the left door. “And that’s the world as imagined by the Hindus, with the elephants supporting the flat Earth!” He gasps stunned.

“This looks like the Maya Universe,” Paul completes for him. “And I guess those are Crusaders from the Middle Age…”

“Look, the cross and the crucifixion!” Olli gets into their game.

“And that looks like an atomic mushroom,” Christoph points at a different scene.

“Seems like all of human history is recorded here!” Flake states, so bewildered and yet cheered up by his discovery.

“But how the hell do we open these gates?” Richard’s husky voice intervenes. “There’s no door-knob, no…”

But just as he is saying that, the gates start to move slowly, with the sound of heavy and rusted machinery moving after centuries of motionlessness.

“Looks like we have verbal command on our garage door, gentlemen!” Paul laughs.

“What is it?” Richard asks me in a whisper. Probably he could sense that fear that has taken over me, making my limbs and my body freeze bit by bit.

“The Beast. It knows we’re here,” I reply. “It ordered the doors to open. It’s been waiting for us.”

“Well, then, we shouldn’t be rude and make it wait any longer!”

Once the doors are completely open, Paul enters first into the castle.

“C’mon!” Flake invites me, and Olli and Christoph, after Richard, follow us closely.

We walk into this huge hallway, wide as a stadium and so tall that we can’t see the ceiling.

“It looks bigger than it looked from outside,” Flake remarks. “How’s that possible?”

“I wonder how come you’re asking that, after all we’ve been through,” Paul replies.

The walls and the floor, as much as we can see, are made of white marble crossed by intricate veins of different colors: blue, dark red, dimly glowing gold.

“Where the fuck is my red carpet?” Richard muses out loud, followed by Paul’s laughter.

The whole hallway is empty, completely empty. Only at the other end of it there is this immense door that looks as if made of bronze. But the bronze appears to be old, because as we are approaching it we can see green traces on it, the sign of oxidized copper. There is also complete silence; we can hear only the echoes of our steps and our voices. There are absolutely no windows, and the light seems to be cast from somewhere above us, but we can’t see any source of it.

We stop near the new door, all tired and drained after the long walk, and the fight with the snow warriors.

“The lizard likes to play with us. What do you think? It’s a maze? Is it trying to make us wander until we die of exhaustion into its stinking lair?”

Paul is going on and on with his suppositions. But he whispers, as if scared that the echoes of his voice might wake up a new monstrous creature, as imagined by the Beast.

The bronze doors are covered with carvings too, but these are some mysterious signs, like letters of a long forgotten language.

“Do these open at my voice command?” Richard asks, a bit too loud than we are prepared for.

But this set of doors doesn’t move. Olli gets in front of them and pushes them slowly. The gates open, revealing a new hall. This new hall is a bit darker than the first one, and its walls seem to be covered in brownish bricks. Actually, there aren’t many walls, because from this hall appear to be going thousands of stairways, to all directions possible, climbing up to higher levels and going down to underground levels, as well, giving it more an aspect of a huge cylinder. We walk slowly to the center of the new room, as we are watching the spider-web of stairways; at one point I lean my head so I could see some steps – if someone wants to climb those they would have to defy gravity and walk with their feet on the ceiling and their head downward.

“This is absurd,” murmurs Flake, his gaze following the lines of other stairs that would be impossible to walk, as well.

“This whole shit is absurd!” Paul growls, exasperated. “Everything until now has been absurd, why would it be different now?”

But he stops suddenly; my ears catch these delicate notes, as if someone is playing a piano in a room pretty far away from the one we’re in now. I look at the others, and judging by their expressions, they are hearing the piano too.

The notes are sounding delicate, dropping one after another like dripping rain and resounding beautifully into the immensity of the castle’s hall.

“Piggy, hey piggy!”

This woman’s voice calls near us, making us all jump nervously as we were focusing on the piano song. We weren’t expecting anyone to come from behind in one of those hallways.

We turn our heads – finally, someone. It is this woman, very tall and beautifully shaped, dressed in shiny black latex, enhancing the roundness of her breasts and the beautiful curves of her hips and thighs. She is wearing high heeled boots and is walking toward us. She has a leash, and at the end of her leash there is this man, fat and with his nose and mouth in the shape of a pig’s snout. The man is walking on all fours and this minute he’s running, the next minute he stops to sniff on the floor and on the corners. This scene makes me recall Frau and her five pets. But I shake my head and, with it, this memory.

We all six look at one another. One of us has to ask her. But, as Richard steps forward to greet and try to get some information from her, the woman sways this short whip into her hand and hits the man-pig’s bare back with it. She emits this short laughter and then she passes by us, as if we are invisible.

For a minute or so we remain startled, and while we are looking at each other, stunned, I feel this flutter near my head. I look up and see this immense butterfly – it’s like a huge dark-blue velvet curtain flying toward the ceiling. I tilt my head to look up, but I realize that the ceilings are so far away that I can’t see them.

“Oh, shit!”

I twist my head. Paul is standing a bit further from us, staring at what seems to be an exhibition window. He wears an extremely disgusted expression on his face, as if he’s ready to throw up. We all gather around him – inside that display there is this guy, alive, but his chest is opened as if he were one of those dummies for anatomy class. And inside his chest we can see his lungs moving, as he is breathing, and all his other insides.

“Can he see us?” I hear Olli.

“I don’t think he’s aware of our presence,” Flake replies.

“Let’s move on,” Richard suggests and we all follow him.

After a few steps he stops, though.

“Fuck!” Slips from his lips.

He is standing in front of this entrance of a room, but this wall of glass separates us from it. In the respective room we can see this middle aged man sitting at a dining table and eating, but his whole figure, as well as the plate and table, are covered by big, black and disgusting flies.

“Guess this is the house of horrors,” Paul jokes behind me.

We all rush away from that scene to the end of the hallway. But here we stop again. Right in front of us, blocking the door, there is this guy that is tied by his hands and hanging from the ceiling. A blindfold covers his face; he is gagged, and he is struggling, bouncing his body in all direction, and resembling a huge worm.

“We should get him down from there, so we could pass,” Christoph suggests.

Richard huffs impatiently.

I look back on the hallway; I think that maybe if we went back, we could get on a different route and find that stinking Dragon and finish with it. That’s when I see it.

Another room, blocked by a glass wall. This room with gray walls has no furniture. Inside it I see this young guy that seems to be trying to tear off his own flesh with his hands. He is yelling, but we can barely hear him. He is hitting his body against the stony walls, he is crying and screaming, cursing and shouting, as if he is really angry with himself.

The others gather around me to watch too. At this point the guy stops. He looks straight at us, as he is breathing heavily from the effort. He grins spiteful, looking straight into our eyes. Like in a flash, he pulls out this gun, points it to his own head and fires. We all jump, startled, horrified. But it’s true, he shot himself and now his body falls slowly to the floor, as if it’s in water. And, once down, this dark blue liquid starts pouring from the wound, forming a puddle around his head.

“That was creepy!”

I swallow that knot inside my throat.

I hear again the grave notes of the piano. After them, the smooth, dark pitched tones of a cello.

“Hey, it’s those guys!”

We all look to what Christoph is pointing to– the guy hanging by his hands from the ceiling is gone, the end of the hallway has gotten very, very far away from us, and at a considerable distance, we see the familiar three silhouettes sitting on their chairs and playing the cellos.

“Shit, look!” Olli exclaims.

We twist our heads. The suicidal guy is standing up on his feet again. He grabs his throat with his hands and tries again, with desperate movements, to tear off his own flesh. Then he bumps into the glass wall. He throws us a glance, takes out his gun and blows his brains off, once again. He falls again with his head on the glass wall. Then his body slides slowly to the ground and in the process, leaving a blue trace on the glass.

“Can’t he just die once and for good?” I ask.

“Actually, no,” comes this voice from near us. A man’s voice.

We all twist at once and look – on a large chair, beautifully carved into massive wood, near the entrance of another room, a room otherwise so dark that we can’t even see its walls, there we see another guy.

“He’s stuck in his own hell. That’s what he has to do for an eternity, to fully live the meanings of his gesture.”

He said all that on this simple tone, as if chattering about how the weather had been yesterday. And as we stare at him, and he’s looking at the six of us, I realize… I remember, yes, I remember!

I’ve seen him before.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 31
- 32
- 33
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)