From deep within the Netherworld of shadow walkers comes yet another exhibit of the Dark Carnival. He is the master of the art of using magic without magic. He is a Necromaster... the craft of using magic through the dead. Dead meaning both physically and mentally. This spectacle shall be witnessed only by those who are meant to see it. Look deep inside of your soul and ask yourself... Do you hold a ticket to witness the show? The answer lies within yourself. He is the fourth to rise. He feeds upon one's own greed. He is powered by one's own jealousy, lust, and temptation. To envision yourself with something that rightfully does not belong to you... that is the illusion cast by him. To act upon this vision and seek it out at the expense of another... that is the magic cast by him. Continuous dreamers of profit at the cost of another are pledged and haunted by his wizardry. Others are content and satisfied with what they can achieve by themselves and have not the urge to tamper with another's well being for quick gain. They see him only as a hoax and see no illusions or magic by he. It is simple... He is you. His illusions are your evil thoughts. Your evil acts are his magic - yesterday, now and forever. You and he are the fourth to rise... You and he are the master of Necromancy... You the dead and him the magic. Together, you and he are The Great Milenko.
His evil influence flows from the city streets like red molten ooze, filling every alley and gutter. There are those who are burnt by it, like the charred remains of a napalm strike. He moves in silence, yet with his heat comes ear-shattering screams as the masses are scorched in his choking smoke of corruption. His fire consumes like a lethal injection flowing through the veins of a dying convict. Hosts of small red ants crawl in the wake of his presence, biting and stinging flesh. His holocaust fills the woods of hope and prosperity like a wave of hungry piranhas on a newborn lamb. He goes by many names, but for now let it be spoken like the force of a fireball bursting into a crowd. He's Jack, pure and simple... Jack Jeckel.
His glow of compassion kindles the heart, like a campfire on a cold winter's eve. His embers burn eternally, spreading the flame of mercy like a warm blanket over the shoulders of a vagabond. His kindness is fueled by sympathy for human suffering, but his inferno of righteous cause, incinerates creatures of sin to ash. The torch of his salvation guides wanderers in the dark abyss to freedom. Its flaring sparks float on the winds of change, like soaring birds recently freed from a dreary cage. Laughter explodes forth from the essence of his being, radiating the land with childish joy. He has many names, but for now let it be spoken like melodic music drifting through the air. He's Jake, true indeed... Jake Jeckel.
Emerging from the Dark Carnival like phantom smoke drifting into the minds of men, they are the Amazing Jeckel Brothers. A chaotic duo of juggling masters, Jack "the sinister" and Jake "the just" juggle the sins of mortal men. The price of admission to their show is a mere human soul.
When death creeps around and life decays, the departed spirit will begin its journey. A vision of a candle will begin to form like a distant dream with billowing smoke rising from its eternal flame. In this thick haze the deceased will begin to see an image of Jake and Jack Jeckel juggling red balls between themselves. Each ball soaked in fresh blood and pulsating like an erratic living heart. For every sin committed in a mortal's life another ball is added to their unearthly performance and the harder it becomes. The deceased will witness sinister Jack throwing Jake curves in a vile attempt to see a ball drop. For if they should fumble in their act, a pit of infinite evil shall open beneath the feet of the viewer and cast the soul into an eternity of pain and suffering. Success on the other hand, opens the gates of Shangri-La and grants one ascension into pure enlightenment and peace.
Jack and Jake Jeckel rest in all of us for they are the very fabric of our being conscience and soul. There is no escape from their Juggling act because there is no way to escape from ourselves. Only in death will we realize this as we twist and spin to the other side?
A pressence can be felt by those who have followed thy epic saga as told by thy Insane Clown Posse. It is a presence that is synonymous with thy crumbling of time itself. Thus emerges a being so powerful that he can exist between both the land of thy living, and that of the dead. He goes by many names but is known to thy living only as Thy Wraith. He walks upon worlds forgotten, and descends from Heavens; fade into gray to witness thy death of all mortal things, so that he may guide thy departed upon thy path that they have chosen. Only now will we truly understand thy meaning of thy saga, for this saga all along, each Jokers Card, is actually none other than... thy echo of our lives.
