Storm of Evil

HELLFIRE

  I apologise for the very slow updates.

**

  du - you

  beklager men hvorfor - sorry but why

  hvorfor - why

  HELLFIRE

[June 1992]

  The room was held with tension, like a showdown between two arch nemesis. In one corner, we have Øystein 'Euronymous' Arseth, owner of the shop, father of Mayhem and master of tremolo picking. In this corner, we have Elias 'Hellfire' Vinter, responsible for more arson than I can even remember.

  I had no chance. God, he was so much more superior, and I had no ground apart from the fact I was a nice guy.

  Euronymous was a giant thorn in my side. He hated me, and there was so far no sign of it getting any better. I wasn't even sure why he disliked me so much to begin with, but whatever it was, it was big. Slowly over the weeks, we'd had small pits of falling out which only got fueled by more hatred, to the point where the other day, he laid me off work for the rest of the shift.

  Every time I did something to grind his conscience, he hadn't forgotten the last time. Doing the wrong job, allowing Emilie into the shop off hours (when he first didn't know we were together), sympathising with Per (Dead), going into town without telling him on my fucking day off; all the small things.

  I had a feeling he didn't like Emilie much either, which was ridiculous because she had nothing to do with the music, the shop or the 'black circle'. In fact, if I remember correctly, she was the one who saved Varg and himself from getting the sheep display pinned on them a while back. Euronymous had a serious chip on his shoulder.

  I was lost as to why he was so cold towards Emilie and I; completely lost.

  Now however, I felt I'd really done it. I pushed my luck and God, did I fucking ram it.  And now, Euronymous faced me in all his blackened wrath, horns up and ears steaming. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if he ripped my throat out and bled me to death right then and there.  

  What could I have possibly done to deserve this? I'm not entirely sure. I knew perhaps taking Varg's shift was going to cause a little friction. I knew Euronymous would get pissed off. What I didn't expect, was him to cut my arm with a fucking knife.

  Of course, I retaliated to his blow, reacting so fast and automatic with the closest blade, I hardly even remember picking it up and cutting his cheek.

  This is how a fight happened.

  "du*," Euronymous sneered. touching the fresh blood from his cheek on his fingertips. It wasn't too deep, but it was enough to bleed a decent amount.

  "Christ Øystein! What was that for? Beklager men hvorfor*?" I said quickly, confused, also looking down at the damage he did to me, which was deeper.

  "I don't want you, or your fucking whore around here anymore, you get?" he replied with somewhat of a growl. I was in complete confusion.

  "But why?"

  "If you haven't noticed, you mess with the order of things. I own the shop. Okay? Me. I pay the rent, I produce the records, I do it all."

  "Bu-"

  "And you," he interrupted, "Arrive on the scene after having pissed off for two years, just happening to fall into a job at the shop, a place to stay at Krågstad and a record production. Here's a news flash Vinter - I don't like you, and I never fucking did. Alright? Varg does. Hellhammer does. Necrobutcher does; but I do not."

  "Hovfor*?" I had to ask.

  "Why?" he scoffed, "Do you not realise how much you dickride everyone around you? How much shit you cause wherever you go?"

  "If this is about the burning man I'm sorry, I can't help -"

  "The burning? Hardly. That's your business. I'm talking about everything. The place to stay, the food, the job, everything."

  "Look, I'm sorry. I get it - I'm a bludging couch surfer, but c'mon I intend to give it all back somehow," I reasoned, trying to calm Euronymous down. I wasn't naturally or consciously a violent person, so I attempted to avoid a physical feud at all costs.

  "You know what I don't think you do get it. If it weren't for the others your wouldn't be here. Least, you wouldn't be here as often as you are."

  I was silent. He hated me. No reason or justification, he just disliked me. I guess I couldn't argue, but at the same time his irrational hatred made me resentful of all sorts. 

  Maybe I should drop the job. Stay with Emilie 100% all the time, not that I didn't already. No more 'crashing' here. At least this way there's still hope that -

  "Say Vinter, you're a man of fire right?" He said with a neutral tone, breaking my long silence. He suddenly pulled out my tape from his pocket, taking it out of its case. What was he doing? Why did he even have my tape in his pocket? "I always think music should reflect personality. I can hear Varg's mixing and influence, how about putting some more of yourself in it huh?"

  Without warning, he was holding up a lighter under the tape, and next thing I knew, there was fire as my demo melted away.

  * * * * *

  I found myself outside for the afternoon, and most of the evening. Before I knew it, it had gotten dark.

  I'd quit the shop, and simply walked away as coolly as possible from Euronymous, to prove I could be the better person who didn't lash out. At the time, I was feeling better for myself, finally being able to get away from Øystein's unnecessary hatred for me.

  However, now, I was a flaming twister of fury.

  The cvnt set my demo on fire. All that work, all that hope. It's gone. I'll have to start again, or use my other tape. But with what? I didn't have my own instruments. Or connections. Already I've been told approaching the label without back-up is futile; what do I even do now? Fucking Euronymous. 

  I paced and growled, my nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing with fury. Euronymous is a cvnt. Light my fvcking tape on fire will you? Will you Øystein? Oh baby, light it. Set it in flames.

  Holding my own lighter I fished from deep in my pockets, I flicked it on; once, twice. The flame shone hot and bright, like a burning beacon of my rage. I held it under my fingers, aware I was singeing my flesh.

  There was no pain though, only the boiling beneath my skin that fueled my madness. I couldn't think for all the things I wanted to feel against my flesh without burning myself alive.

  I looked around and came face to face with an old, dilapidated friend in the distance. Walking up to its broken holy and offensive structure, I scraped the dry, worn wood beneath my fingers and watched the layers flake and break away with the pressure.

  Oh baby, light it.

  "You want fire Øystein? I'll give you fucking FIRE," I found myself seething between my teeth as I held the naked flame to the large pile of structured wood.

  It didn't take much to catch, it was old and tired,  the wood unkempt and decaying. The weather was perfect, unusually dry and only very lightly breezy while the sun beat down behind the hills it slowly descended.

  I found myself standing before my worst monstrosity yet as it lit my darkening skies and the void in my heart filled once more with its only true desire; fire.

  Slowly, I watched as the old church burned down by my hand. And no-one was there to stop it.