Monday, 29 April 2013
These words were found, written on the floor of the library of Farsteton Manor in the Cornish Peninsula, by a worker who was sent to search the place for the person of Armin Farsteton.
Mr. Farsteton was last transported there by a farmer who promised to take him back to town two days later of leaving him in the estate, but could not find anybody when he came to search for his customer, and the house was closed and locked.
It seemed to have been written with the fingernails due to the small drop of blood around them. There was not signs of human presence nor was ever heard from the whereabouts of Mr. Armin Farsteton aside from what is recounted here.
I remember clearly the day the letter arrived in the house, even remember the red face of the postman who rang the bell to deliver it.
There was no one but me to answer the call, I am Armin Farsteton, the last one still alive belonging to the Farsteton family, owner of great fortunes dilapidated by each one of my predecessors cursed by the evil of dementia, an illness that finished my family. It seemed I am being spared that fate, until now, at least.
I lived alone in my house near Borlandy Square, and that is why I opened the door and found the postman still astride on his bicycle, and waiting to give me a letter with the seal of a very well known firm of solicitors, and the 'delivery done' paper for me to sign.
If anyone thinks I was in the least curious or interested in the contents of the letter is absolutely wrong! I was past that phase of any interest in worldly things, so I just throw the envelope on the tobacco table between my briars, and went to sit by the fire to resume my lecture of the incunabulum I have just bought.
I must say that this was my only weakness, I love old books, and I am spending my lasts resources in those wonderful pieces of history of Literature.
It was almost dawn when I finished my task of studying the book, and wrapping it carefully in its "mouton" I put it in a privileged place in my library.
In that moment I saw the letter on the tobacco table, I was just on the brink of going to sleep, forgetting it until the morning, or the afternoon, whenever I wake up, when a strange urge made me take it and opening the envelope I read the single page it contained.
Somebody from the solicitors firm informed me that they were executors of the will of one person named Nathanael Farsteton who had died and named me his heir. I have never heard of Nathanael, and they seemed not to know if he was a cousin, uncle or whatever.
The short side of the tale, which could not be shorter since it was all on the single page I received, was that now I owned the debts of a dilapidated estate in the middle of a moor on the Cornish Peninsula. I was ready to throw the letter into the trash bin when I espied a sentence where the writer mentioned that most of the debts could be attended by the sale of the magnificent library my relative had.
Of course, I decided to make the trip to the estate and look at this "magnificent" library, which if it was just as good as it seemed I would keep it and let the estate go rotting!
After a rather nasty journey in a train full of people reeking like if they had worked in a mine for a month, I had to board a small two high wheels vehicle with a horse for just two person to ride the last ten miles into the moor since there was not pavement and the swamp usually invaded the lanes.
After a long and terrible trip into the moor, we arrived in the most inhospitable place on the marsh. I arranged to be picked out two days from this moment by the same man. I figured that by that time I would already know if the library was worth the effort to be moved into my house, and forget the rest into its debts, and mud.
Upon entering the house a heavy atmosphere of despondency descended over my mind, the huge hall with the marble stairs seemed more appropriate for a mausoleum than a house. It took me five hours to make the house tour and never found anything I liked or could consider of value.
Then I went to the library, I had left it as the last place to visit, obviously. It was magnificent, no doubt, a two stories of teak ledges full of books. You access the upper shelves by mean of a spiral staircase, also made in teak with ivory insets of several seals of arms I didn't recognize.
I was delighted, started to read the titles of the books, my amazement increasing seeing the treasure of Literature there was settled in those racks.
The first big surprise was to find in there a copy of the famous grimoire "Necronomicon", written, according to H.P. Lovecraft, by the "Mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred. By the look of the book it seemed handwritten, not printed, could it have been the original?.
I was unwilling to take it from the shelf, but finally I tried to remove it, I was taken aback by the reluctance of the book to leave the shelf, finally I could make it spin on its base letting out only a part of the upper half of the volume.
In that moment the whole next module slide to one side letting open an access to an octagonal room, fifteen feet across, with the same teak shelves full of books, in the center of the octagon there was a dais with a lectern in red lining and a big book on it. This book was not titled, it was closed and locked by a brass clasp with no opening lever, over the book, there was a pink envelope.
I took the envelope and fished out of it a small card with this writing on it:
To whom may concern
If you value, and care for your life, do not dare to open this book.
That was all.
To whom may concern? what does it mean? there were more people who can be part of this heirloom, didn't my relative know I was the only one left of the family? My mind cried a lot of more questions while in a dreadful way made me feel uncertain and willing to go away in that moment! But where? How? I could not walk the distance to town, so I had to wait for my cab to come in two days from now.
I left the octagonal room, and the door slide closed. I sat on the armchair near the spiral staircase and tried to calm myself with a pipe. The day ended slowly, and darkness threatens to take possession of the place, looking around I found an old oil lamp, as you may realize there was not electricity in the house.
I lit the lamp and put it on the table near the armchair, the whole arrangement gave a dismal little light that enhanced the shadows and added a touch of unhappiness to the room.
After a while I could think clearly again, there was that horrid feeling of gloom in my mind, but I blame it to the atmosphere of the house.
I knew I had to open that book, but now I felt tired and expended. The experiences of the day had taken its toll from my energies, so I took the oil lamp and climbing the marble stairs I went to one of the bedrooms I have seen in my first roaming of the house and prepared to pass the night.
My sleep, if we can call the heavy slumber I was sunk in, sleep, was plagued by nightmares, there were two groups of indescribable creatures fighting to gain my attention, and while one of them begged me to leave immediately, the other one coaxed me into going down and open the red book. It was exhausting, and I awake few minutes before dawn as tired as I was the night before.
Wanting to end this torture, I dressed and went down to the octagonal room, I took the book from the lectern and tried to open the clasp, but it was useless, I could not figure out how to do it, so I took the pink card again and reread it, it was then that I noticed written words on the lower right corner of the card.
I could have swear it was not there the night before when I read the card the first time, but I was too tired then so I could not be sure. Coming near the light, I read the very small characters: Abaddon, the Exterminator.
I was puzzled, Abaddon?, I remembered some old myth about an Exterminator Angel, but could not bring to mind the exact story. Almost without realizing it I repeated aloud the name. A sharp noise from the lectern brought my attention to it and I was amazed to see the clasp of the book unfastened and the hardcover opened displaying a blank first page.
I went over the lectern and with a sense of awe turned the first page, to find in astonishment another blank page. I could not believe my eyes while I passed half the pages of the book, all of them were totally blank.
I was going to close the book in frustration when I notice a red page marker with a strange seal of arm protruding from some pages ahead. I opened the book on that page and found a kind of verse or poem, it went:
Veni, O Abaddon
Quid rectum Venite et
Sit Mihi Dominus, et Magister
Et audierunt mandata Tua
My knowledge of Latin was inexistent so I could not grasp the meaning of these words. I just read them aloud to see if I could decipher the significance by their sound.
When I finish to pronounce with difficulty the last word, the octagonal walls started to spin around the lectern, and I was thrown into a black dungeon where I was chained to a wall. After some minutes I could see in the shadows and was terrified.
There were many of us, all chained and kneeling before a giant black winged figure. I understood as if by magic, we were the warriors of Abaddon and our job was to destroy all Creation.
I'll try to leave an account of what happened to me, writing with my nails on the floor of this dungeon, maybe it can somehow reach humankind and warn others of my fateful destiny.
My last thought as a human soul was the translation of the Latin lines, now seemingly easy to understand:
Come, O Abaddon,
Come and take what is your right,
Be my Lord, and Master,
I will obey your commands,
For the Eternity.
Many people looked for the Necronomicon mentioned here but it was not found in the library, in the place described above was an old but ordinary volume of The Republic by Plato, and it could be removed from the shelf without problem, no part of the shelves slide to open on any hidden place.
When the house was teared down, there was no octagonal room to be found anywhere in the whole estate.
The coroner investigation found nothing of interest and the panel gave a verdict of "Missing Person", adding that Mr. Armin Farsteton belonged to a family with a medical history of dementia, this fact made possible that under the influence of this malady, Mr. Farsteton had written the precedent story, and then walked into the marsh and was killed by some animal, or drown.
The music is a compound, first goes "Devant la tempête" (Before the tempest), following "My Melancholy", then "Voices of Eternity", then "Alone in the Dark", all by Vadim Kiselev, finally closing with "My Silent Cry" by BlackDawn .
© 2013 Od Liam.
Tuesday, 23 April 2013
A boy started a brouhaha,
on a trip to Panama,
Some people got at him,
with beer make his body go limp,
it was a bit funny in the way of ha ha.
The music is "Irish Beer Song" by The Clancy Brothers and The Dubliners.
All this silliness is unforgivable!
© 2013 Od Liam.
Saturday, 20 April 2013
An essay on Melancholy
The snow was falling in a soft way as if it were a cotton fabric covering the low hills of Camhlaidh Manor and the sills of the upper gables flaunted pointed stalagmites as iron grids, giving the old building the appearance of letting tears fall from a sad giant face.
Camhlaidh Manor was old, it dated from the first Celtic clans arriving to the land, and their owners and heirs were respected families in the county until the place was deserted by their people and lost its splendour.
There was a small atmosphere of mystery in all the garden around the Manor, but the House seemed very much in a suspended mystic arcane that the snow dressed as a bride.
In a strange and amazing way, Summer seemed to erase all those enigmatic airs of the place and it became a yellow solitary field surrounding an old dilapidated and monstrous edification without the charm that Winter used to bring to the location and the wilderness that encompassed the whole estate.
This morning, the gelid wind was bringing a kind of cold life into the house, for moments there were small little children cries, calling one another or asking for help. The emptiness of the rooms accentuated these incorporeal sounds that mix with that of the weather vane, high over the steeple of the attic over the main edifice, still spinning slowly and squeaking in a dismal way.
"Siobhan, where are you?", seemed to cry the wind with a boy's corporeal voice.
"In the library, Kinnon!", answered a wind gust with a female child voice as strong as the first.
"Come quickly", added Siobhan, "I can smell the violet in Mommy's diary!"
The door of the library tremble as if a wave of warm air had passed through it and a small shadow approached the little decaying desk where another little shadow was inclined over a small diary used by young girls many years ago.
The dairy pages were eaten by insects but there was enough of it to read some paragraph, and small dry violets petals were left like small tears on some pages.
"Look", said the wind in the voice of Siobhan, "she said she liked to walk on the garden behind the low hill at the back or the manor, Summer was so mild and sweet she used to lay spread-eagle on the grass counting the birds in the sky"
A motor was heard over the wind, the children run to the windows in time to see a white big Daimler stop in front the main door. The driver got out and opening an enormous umbrella, walks toward the back door of the car to let go out a man who looked in his thirties, dressed in fashion and wealth. The driver followed the man covering him with the umbrella until he entered the porch, and then sat on one of the stone lions near the door preparing him to wait.
The well dressed man turned to his left when he entered and took his steps toward the library, Siobhan and Kinnon climbed on a gust of wind and rested on an angle of the ornate ceiling of the library.
"It is uncle Harry", the whisper of Kinnon was heard as the small screech of the vane over the roof.
The man approached the desk, and with surprise took the diary and opened it at random; he inclined his head as in reverence and started to read, he must be reading very slowly because he was looking the same page for a long time. After that, he kissed the pages and the violets several times.
Then taking his cane, which was adorned by a golden lion head in the hand-grip, started to go back to the lobby. When he approached an old brown smear that had seeped into the wood of the floor, he knelt and kissed the spot, too, stand up and left the room.
The children ride another wind gust toward the desk and started to read the book.
The entry was written many years ago, and an image of a young girl was barely seen as an old film, sitting at the desk, she read aloud while she wrote; it said in a trembling hand:
“There is no doubt now, three month confirm it! Only three months ago it was my fifteen birthday, I was alone in the house, Father and Mother were opening the marchand's season in the Vyšehrad Castle in Prague, and we,with Nanny Adaryn, and the servants were the only persons in the Manor.”
“I did not care to be alone, I was used to it, and my father says that a young lady should not be seen outside her boudoir until her engagement. So I was alone in the big dinner-room, eating my cake and drinking Oolong tea, or Tie Guan Yin, as Nanny liked to name it; when there was a knock on the main door.”
“Turbin, our old butler took his time to answer but I was pleasantly surprised to see Cousin Harry coming in with a big box and a bigger smile!”
"Happy birthday, Cousin Bidelia!", cried Harry from the lobby, "I brought you some interesting things!"
“He was a hearty boy, full of energy, Nanny brought another set of silverware for him and we enjoyed the party.”
“Nanny sat on the bench at the bay window and looked to the park while we opened the gifts brought by Harry."
"The best was a nice girly Diary where, he said, I could write all my secrets to be revealed when I were an old woman.”
”After a while, we found the weather was so beautiful that we asked Nanny permission to walk up the hill, into the orchard in a cloud of dandelion seeds.”
“Nanny said:” "Go ahead", I must clean all this place"
“We walked toward the top of the hill, it was sunny and beautiful, as soon as we were out of hearing from the house, Cousin Harry took out a hip flask and told me:”
"Let's enjoy the best cognac in the world, Bidelia!, I took it from Father cellar, they said it is done by Angels in an old Abbey on the Highlands!"
I was really surprised, Harry was not the kind of scatterbrain boy who will do stupid things, and so I told him.
"Just forget that flask, Cousin H!" Let's enjoy the beautiful day and the soft scent of a Summer day."
He opened the flask and told me: "Just a small sip, I want to know how it tastes. You know my Father does not let me drink alcohol until I will be nineteen!"
But it was not just a sip, when we reached the orchard, Harry could barely address me, his words were strange and he had a lewd look in his eyes!
Everything was so fast I just sat under a lemon tree until Harry awaken from his slumber, then he was very ill and had to wait until he felt good again, then we walked back to the house. Nobody spoke anything more of it,
Harry seemed he had forgotten everything, and I was so embarrassed that could not think about that time on the hill. Only now I am writing all this just to give vent to my pain and sadness
That happened three month ago, I could hide my condition from Nanny because she is short-sighted and unsuspecting, but next week Father and Mother come back from the Continent and I will not be able to conceal anything from Mother. She will die of shame and Father will fall in disgrace as soon the news was public.
I cannot recur to Cousin Harry, he owns nothing and lives on allowances from his parents and now is in Oxford, any blemish over his person will destroy his career.
I feel my twins in me, I already chose Siobhan for her name, and Kinnon for his, and I know they are a boy and a girl! We will be happy in our new abode, I am sure.
She waited a bit, lost in thought, and then continues writing on her Dairy: Oh, Cousin Harry how could you? Some more moments of deep emotion stopped her hand.
Then with a great effort she continue: “it was not easy to decide the step to follow, but my family will be grateful when everything is explained as an accident and there will be no prying looks or questions to make, as the reverend says:
Children of incest are children of the wind. I have my scissors ready!
Here stopped the writing.
Siobhan look at Kinnon and asked: "What new abode she is speaking about and where is she?"
Kinnon added, "this is our abode and we cannot find Momma anywhere!"
"I do not understand", Siobhan said
"Me neither", added Kinnon!
Meanwhile, the man reached the Daimler and got into it, the driver took his place and the powerful car headed toward the Gates of Camhlaidh Manor.
While the Daimler reached the Gates there was a long sigh from the wind, it sounded as the joined cry of two childish voices, or maybe it was the screeching of the vane that seemed to shout:
The music is "Winter Sonata" by Gyeoul Yeonga.
© 2013 Od Liam.
Thank you, BB
Friday, 19 April 2013
It happened in Everlastingland where time was not known and its vector was eternally looping into itself.
It was very difficult to ascertain 'when' something happens since 'when' was a meaningless word.
But events do happen in Everlastingland despite this situation.
So it was that Princess Dharma was a child equivalent to a five years old girl, but we could not assess it since years is another meaningless word.
The little regal being was a very restless child, and Her Nanny, Ubby, was very tired of running after Her, watching, and keeping Her Highness out of trouble.
Nanny Ubby was very young, too, although everybody was so in this place, and she was in love with Matty, the stable boy, who groomed horses for the King, and the Queen.
The Queen was very partial to the Princess, so Ubby did not dare to let Her Highness alone unless she could be sure She was in a safe place.
As things were at that moment, Ubby was trying to find a quiet place to read the Book of Spells that Matty had given her as a gift.
Matty was a very conscientious lad and as it was a festive season, with no time limits, Matty was cleaning the loft of the barn where the horses' stalls were made, and he found an old, oak trunk, buried under several bales of hay. Giving up to curiosity the youth, instead of carry the trunk to his boss, he opened it breaking the old strap that closed the lid.
Between several old clothes with not value whatsoever, he found the Book of Spells by Sorcerer Malung, the most important Magician of Everlastingland, this man was looking for the magic develop of time, and he was lost, many years ago, in the Hazy Mountains, near the horizon where the realm ended, trying to find a clue, but in the Palace grapevine, it was rumoured that he had already solved the quiz, and was looking for something else, but it only was a rumour.
Matty felt his heart to warm towards Ubby, since he knew she loved all these old things, and the book would be a perfect gift to show her his devotion.
He was right, Ubby was delighted by the Book, but she could not leave the Princess alone, and until she found a safe place for Her to play securely, she could not start reading the Book.
In one moment, but out of time, Ubby had an idea: if she and Princess Dharma go to the Silent Garden, where the Magic Sentinel watched over the place, and over the people in the Garden, then Princess Dharma would be safe and Ubby would be free to read her book.
They entered the Garden, Princess Dharma went right to the golden fountain to play with the aureate liquid, and Ubby sat in a bench a few steps away and started to read.
Now, this was not a regular book, neither Matty, nor Ubby knew that the Magic Spells written there were coming true with just reading silently the words.
While Ubby was engrossed in one of the Spells, Princess Dharma noted that a big part of the water started to become very black and elastic, the water developed a filmy quality that let the Princess put Her finger on its surface making a small dent until she took Her finger out, then the water came again to its old form due to the elastic surface.
After several probes, Princess Dharma decided to pinch between her index and thumb a part of the surface to find out what happened. She did so, and there was a strong flare in the place, something started to glow, and the dark water seemed to sink into the flash.
In that moment, but not of time, the bells toll for dinner and Princess Dharma thinking in Her food forgot all about the fountain, and Ubby took Her to the dinner-place to enjoy the choice food of a Princess.
Meanwhile, but out of time, the water around the place where the flare appeared went down into the fountain leaving normal golden water flow in its location.
There was a kind of pause, but not a time pause, but an 'untime' pause and...
In a space far away but connected with all these events, the Spell went on creating a Big Bang and an Universe where time opened its loop and started to flow into Eternity.
The music is "A Tea Ballad" by ZHANG Fu-quan & HAO Han, and performed byZHANG Fang-ming, DAI Ya, ZHANG Qiang, ZHAO Jia-zhen, LI Guang-lu, ZHANG Xiao-hong, ZHAO De-rong & HU Ai-zhen, in Chinese musical instruments.
© 2013 Od Liam.
Tuesday, 16 April 2013
It was one of those days that started at dawn and ended at sunset!
Yes! one of those days that the most important thing that happens is NOTHING!
You know them, the only benefit I have over you is that I can go into my mind and pester Elf for a while, which makes minutes shorter.
OK, I said, as soon as I realized I was going to be bored like a Rocker fan in the middle of the first movement of the Triple Concert for Fife and Piccolo, by Isha Wald, performed by the Basted Quartet, integrated by Profit Gross in Fife; Spendy Unjust in Piccolo; Lost'n Tax in Viola da Gamba; Net Incom in Lute; and the warbling of coloratura in accompaniment to the virtuosity of Profit Gross by the great soprano Inopp Ortune Hiccough, I decided to go and get the best from Elf.
I closed my eyes to see better and introducing my sentience into my mind, walked along the hall toward the Archives.
The first steps were followed by the usual silence my mind can produce when inactive, which is almost always. Then while I was approaching the Literary Archive I heard a voice which I had waged without doubt was Elf's, reading in a pompous voice, even if his voice was indistinct and I could not understand the words.
I crossed the threshold of the door just when Elf was reciting:
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
And seeing me started to laugh by the coincidence.
I was transfixed: over several tomes of an old Encyclopaedia Britannica, out of use because Internet, but perfectly accurate as ever, using them as a stage, the imp was reading the Act IV Scene I, of Macbeth, I know you recognized it, but I just felt the need to name it. There was a crudely drawing of a cauldron hanging in the wall, and three old hags around it, all this so incredible that I didn't know how to react.
Anyway, my astonishment, and inner disturbance, was not all those things I describe above, but the incredible sight at the foot of the makeshift stage:
Sitting cosily on a tome of the Britannica each, cross-legged and giving the impression of being at home, there were four attentive Lady Elves, following each syllable and movement of my sprite!
Elf stopped reading and cried happily:
"Ah!, there you are me man!" (me man? where has he found this?)
I had trouble to find my voice but al last I could manage: "You bring another bunch of cousins to visit my mind? I asked almost stuttering
Of course, in that moment four necks rotated toward the door to look at me and when those emerald eyes posed on my person I felt loosed all over, even my socks fell limpid over my shoes!
Elf, following his ways didn't give importance to my uncomfortable situation and exclaimed:
"I was entertaining my cousins until you deign to show yourself"
I was trying to answer, but those emerald eyes were doing something inside me, I could only stutter: "Hhhoooww yyou kknow I'd come?"
It seemed I have said something very funny because the five imps laughed merrily at me as if I were a clown!
Then one of them stood up and walking as the best supermodel in any pageant approached me and said, in a faint and slightly erotic voice, as if she were asking for a diamond collar:
"My name is Elkad, can you squat down, please?"
As I went down in a haze, she smiled and when my eyes were at the same height than hers she looked deep into my eyes, there were small stars dancing in the emerald irises, and the promise was there, only there was not an explanation for that feeling!
After a while she turned toward Elf and said:
"It is true, you have been given one of the owner of the best idiocy in humankind, I cannot believe you have had that luck!"
These words made that the other three Ladies run toward me and darted my eyes with their emerald sight, I felt dizzy, as in a dream I heard Elf tell them:
"Be careful! he can collapse into too many "shrewt" . Just look one at a time and let him sit on the floor.
"Are you all right", he asked.
I was comfortable inside where the emerald wisps were dancing yet, but I didn't like the cold I felt in my body.
"This cold is me", said Elf, "it is better you get back to your world. I would not have let my cousins do what they did, but they were so insistent and menaced not to believe you were as... you are, besides they can be very convincing when determined to get something."
"Come," he added, "now I want you to met them as elves, since it is probable that they come to visit often, now that they know!
Meet other elves, females in the bargain, and they are planning to come back to visit often...
"What was this?", I asked "are you out of your mind! I can just handle one of you and you plan to bring, not another but four elves more?!"
"No, not four, a lot more, when the notice run out in Fairyland, almost everybody will want to come and see. Even if for once!!"
I was to kick the gum of the gnome when he added:
"And some of the Ladies have a better "shrewt" than the ones you tasted"...
That stopped me, oh, I know I am selfish but what can I do. Then something occurred to me and I asked:
"Why I do not feel that "shreenury", or whatever its name is, when I look at you?"
"Because we, males elves, reserved our special "shrewt" for ladies elves with that thing that makes them special, you see?"
"Don't worry", he went on, "remember the Bard:"
Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him.
"So, while the Great Birnam wood stay quiet and do not go up to Dunsinane Hill, you will never get it from other male, (hope the old witches are not as tricky as they are in Macbeth", said Elf with a smile; "but with females elves, be careful, they like to show their power and sometimes leave a human singing in a strange language for a long time, if not forever."
So here I am, in a day that started at dawn but I do not know how is going to end, still listening Elf giving us Macbeth and surrounded by a purring sound that no cat will be able to reproduce.
We are listening to the 2nd. movement, "Adagio" of "Concierto de Aranjuez" by Joaquin Rodrigo, performed by Paco de Lucia
© 2013 Od Liam.
Thank you, BB
Monday, 15 April 2013
I am trying to compose a sonnet,
Pentameter and iambic is the meter,
Sure it will put a bee in my bonnet,
And fill my mind with refuse and litter.
Delving into words, must work in with zeal,
Seeking the BA-BOOM that iambic likes more,
This crazy rhythm makes sounds to have appeal,
People seeking, wanting it, and adore.
Here I am and it seems I have done it,
Follow cadence as metric require,
Just must create only a little bit,
and tie it with a strong and double wire.
To let it last in time and in plain space
During the duration of human race
The music is "Richard Clayderman" by noota music, soft as the way I had to think to write this English Sonnet. Before publishing the post I asked William if he let me do it, he was very understanding and told me to go ahead, but try and learn a bit more about the subject. I guess he was being sympathetic, not saying to flush it into oblivion.
© 2013 Od Liam.
Saturday, 13 April 2013
It was one of those days. When I rise, I could not find my sleepers, even if I was sure I left them at the side of the bed.
When I tried to knot my shoe laces they both snapped, and I had to go down to the man that shine boots downstairs to get another pair. The day looked nice, and the sun was trying to get through the buildings.
As soon as I was ready and went into the common ground the light went out and I had to descend fourteen stories by the inner fire stairs absolutely blind, not even the security light worked.
When I arrived to the lobby; rain started so strongly I had to wait for a moment. There was not traffic so I could find no taxi to hail.
Finally, I had to run to the corner under the pouring water, where I found thirty or more people waiting for a cab. I decided to run to the underground stairs a block away, but when I reached there it was closed for repairs, already soaked I run towards the next stairs a block away and finally could reach the underground platform.
The two first trains were full, so I could not get aboard, besides as I was soaked up people push me away. Finally I got into a car in the next train, and as I was leaving a small pool under my shoes, I was left alone with disgusting looks, which in the end was a blessing.
I got down on the fourth level of my underground station, and when I got to the automatic stairs found that they were closed for repair, so I had to climb all four levels on my own.
When reached the street level found out that the rain has got heavier, but I was so wet I didn't care. tried to cross the street but the cars were so close one another I had to jump over some hoods to get through.
At last I entered the office building, only to find the lobby full of people waiting the elevators, from the seven cars, only two were working so the line was as long as justice arm.
After a long time I could disembark on my floor and go to my desk. As soon I reached it, I found a broken chair which was changed by somebody who arrived before me. After chasing around I found a new chair and brought it to my desk and switch on my computer, only to find out I could not use the R in my keyboard because there was no key for it.
I took the keyboard of the next desk, went down to the floor and discovered that the power cable of the keyboard was too short. When I disentangle myself from cables and stood up, I found my neighbour furious because somebody has stolen his keyboard.
After I calmed him, I went down again to plug his keyboard and keep peace between us. Now I was not only wet but I had mud even into the pockets.
I walked around the office until I found a keyboard with a long power cable and coming down to my desk I called Maintenance to ask for another keyboard. The man that talk to me on the phone, when I asked my request, answered: "Sorry pal, you must fill a form and bring it to us, so we can get you a new keyboard, and I advise you to do it ASAP since we have only one part free and as per the last regulation we cannot ask new parts for a month, and the assignation of the pieces is for strict order of arrival of the petitions." I thanked the guy and went to see Ms. Andrews.
I entered Ms. Andrews cubicle and said "Good morning, Ms Andrews". This lady is a middle of the road woman, secretary to the boss, and dame of all tasks, very well attired and very careful of her appearance.
As soon as she raised her head and saw me, she hissed: "Can't you knock before entering private spaces? And keep away, that you are fouling all the place!"
I went out the cubicle and speaking from the outside I said conciliatory: "Ms Andrews, my keyboard is broken, can I fill a form to request another one, please?"
She made a pout and said, "You must fill form A32584, get it signed by the boss and bring it to me for stamping, and validating it."
"Fine", I answered, "can you get me one of those?"
"No", she said, "you musk ask it to the boss".
"Oh, right", I tried to follow her rhythm, "can you announce me to the boss?"
"No, he reported ill and we won't think he could be back until next week"
"But surely there is somebody he has delegated the task to give over forms?!" I said a bit riled.
She looked at me disgustingly, and said: "No, he has not thought in doing that. And, do not bother me anymore, you are making me lose time, and I have many things to attend to." Lowering her head she ignored me totally.
I went to my desk and found there the owner of the keyboard, all set and ready to start a fight. I was so low after my skirmish with Ms. Andrews, that just give the keyboard back and presented a lot of apologies until I could calm the guy and send him to his place.
I went down again and reconnected my broken keyboard and tried to work adding the R using the code of four digits as in the character table when it appeared in the text.
When I looked up it was already five o'clock, so I put out all my things, closed everything, and trying to ignore the dry mud that covered me went to the elevators.
This time only one was working, so I had to wait so long that it was almost dark when I emerged from the elevator and found out it was pouring as much as in the morning.
The main door of the building was crowded and people fighting real hard for the few taxis that were going down the street.
So I decided to run the three block up to the train station and go by it.
I reached the station, wet, muddy, and panting in the very moment my train closed the doors and started down street. So I just gulped and waited for the next train that to my delight and surprise arrived just in time. The doors opened, the car was almost empty, and I could sit near the window looking the rain and enjoying the sight.
Some twenty blocks from my house, the train stopped in the middle of the tracks and a conductor walked the corridor between the seats informing us that there was a faulty part in the unit and that as it blocked the rails there will be no next train to board, and that it was very probable that the delay to fix the problem reached the next mid-morning due to a strike in the workshops.
I felt a pang in my innards but just get down into the pouring rain and walked the twenty block as in a spell.
I arrived home safely, entered the small shed I have in the garden, looked for a strong rope and making a real good noose put my head in it and tied the rope to the beam that crossed the roof of the shed, climbing on a rotten crate let it go, hoping for some peace.
As soon as my weight applied to the beam it broke down, and I fell to the floor between the debris of the roof, and the rain falling on my face carried me into oblivion, so I slept easily and in bliss.
The music is Paganini's Caprice No. 24 in A minor performing Alexander Markov. It reflects the turmoil into a soul!
© 2013 Od Liam.
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Li'l Zeb was pushing his wheelbarrow on the high path of the Southern Appalachian Mountains, bringing dawn, waterfall sounds, and birds warbles with him.
This was a no conventional hour to be pushing a wheelbarrow up there, but it was an emergency. Li'l Zeb had emptied his last bottle of moonshine, some minutes ago, and he HAD to get another supply soon or the sky will fall down his head.
He has been sent to a medicine-man in the city because this trembling, but the sham doctor told him he must blame a Mr. Parkson for it. He don't know no Mr. Parkson, and he didn't remember to have met that guy ever, so how can this Mr. Parkson make his hands quiver? He was sure the sham doctor only wanted to part him from his money, fortunately, he has no money, and the doctor had to take a plastic card instead, that her neighbour, Lotty Blonde, had given him before his departure to the city, write some numbers, and give it back, so he got nothing, and that made Li'l Zeb happy.
Anyway, every time his hands started to shiver, Li'l Zeb looked suspiciously around him in case he could discover Mr Parkson hidden nearby doing his hexing.
Now, back to the bottles, if you need them, which are noisy by definition, the sensible thing to do is for them when the distiller of the moonshine, and owner of the bottles is down in deep slumber and it is unlikely he will awake during the larceny, even if, to be just, Li'l Zeb didn't have anything sensible in his head, nor could give any meaning at the word larceny. But he knows he needs moonshine, and that cleared, if we can use this word, his mind enough as to make his move at this time.
Having wrapped the bottles in rags he had stowed them into the wheelbarrow and was returning to the loft of the barn Maw Spalder lets him live in since the dead of his wife, and where he had a hidden box to keep the bottles safe.
The first rays of the sun caressed the dirty path focusing on a big fern nearby, The foggy brain of Li'l Zeb looked at the fern and saw a sneaker protruding from a low bough of the plant.
"Wow!", his mind was overwhelmed, "sneakers produced by plants, it is a great breakthrough".
Coming nearer, he could see that the thing he thought, well, thought is a way of speaking, moonshine has taken out that function from his brain long ago, the thing he saw as a big bough was a man's leg with the sneaker resting on the path.
Confusion spread up in his mind and leaving the wheelbarrow a few feet away, he approached slowly to the leg. He was very careful, knowing that there are many leprechauns loose ready to deliver pranks to unaware people in these woods.
He was alert, at least, as much alert as his brain could resists, and ready to bolt into the thickness of the forest at the first sign of danger. He opened slowly the upper branches of the fern and looked down...
Maw Spalder was sweeping the pantry and trying yo convince a bumblebee to fly out the window with her swat paddle, when she heard the creak of the mesh door followed by heavy steps and the sighing the old sofa used to exhale when somebody sits on it.
She walked the hallway and into the living room with curiosity, feeling an ominous weight on her mind as if low voices were chanting a scary song, but as soon as she saw the face of Li'l Zeb sitting sprawled on the sofa, got back running to the kitchen and looked for the her moonshine bottle, to her
More at ease, she walked back to the main room and asked Li'l Zeb: "Now, what is it?"
Li'l Zeb swallowed several times before he could say "I found Zeke Yowel's sneaker in the wood!" He didn't mention he had unloaded the moonshine bottles in his loft before coming to Maw Spalder's house. He was a drunkard but he does not lack elementary safety sense.
Maw looked as the patience goddess, while she told Li'l Zeb "Good, you find Zeke's sneaker in the woods! Why don't you look after him, surely he is in the pub dinking the money he win betting! I never saw him lose a wager in his life, lucky devil!"
"I can't" was the answer.
"And why, under this glorious sun, you can't?!" Maw Spalder was losing the short temper she have!
"Because Zeke's foot is into the sneaker!" This sounded as a truculent sentence.
"Zeke's foot is in... and where is the rest of Zeke's?!" Maw Spalder had to make an effort to stop the old maize pipe, she always has in her mouth, to fall down.
"Attached to the foot, in my wheelbarrow, I think he is a goner!". Added Li'l Zeb almost shamefully.
And the realized he was talking to think air because Maw Spalder had run out of the house to check the news.
The little bells in the steeple of the small white church in the village tolled gloomily. The birds followed singing an elegy while a Gregorian chant gave the mournful frame to the ceremony.
On the first pews sat Maw Spalder, Lotty Blonde, Bert Moty, old Benny Fored, this last a revered old man who was said to know everything must be known on Earth, and several other important personalities in town.
Lotty said in a whisper, and stealing a look to the coffin in front of the altar, surrounded by flowers and candles, "I do not understand how could he fall over a rock and break his head, he was always as lucky, never lose a bet in his life, it is a pity, being handsome, too!" She sighed. Everybody was respectfully silent because they know she had "something" for Zeke, but no one could define what that "something" was.
"Yes!", said old Benny, "yesterday he won a watch from a furriner who dare to accept a bet from him."
In that moment Reverend Wailer approached the dais and harrumphed loudly to attract attention and get silence.
"This is a sad moment" started the Reverend, "for all our town, we lost one of our most respected neighbour".
There was a movement of feet around the mourners as if they dissented from this qualification.
"He was a good man" again feet movement, "and I must say with a prodigious luck!". This time there was silence as if to assent this point.
"So, we have met here to say good by to a friend", more feet movements, and also a creaking from the coffin.
People around looked scared, but the Reverend hastened to dismiss the noises explaining that sometimes the bodies gather gases that are expelled noisily.
Everybody seemed to accept this explanation when from the coffin Zeke sat up and making some efforts tried to get down from the casket.
Lotty put her eyes blank and slid down to the ground without any help since all other were looking with the eyes out of their orbits how Zeke got down from the dais and stood in front of the Reverend.
Wailer gather his last courage and asked Zeke: "Are you a man or a ghost?!"
Zeke made a noise with the lips and told him, "I am a man, you oaf!!" And added, "haven't you some booze prepared for my demise?"
The Reverend was out of his socks to take care about the booze, he wanted to know what had happened to the supposed corpse, so he asked again:
"But, but, if you are not a ghost how come you are alive? Is it that you were not dead in the first place?"
"Oh no, man, I was zilched by that rock, it took my life and made a big hole in my skull, only Brat Digger, the embalmer, put a piece of carton on it and then combed my hair to hide the wound, nice guy this Brat, he knows his work well." "You sure there is no booze nearby!"
"But, but", the Reverend seemed to have bought this word, "but if you were dead how come now you are alive, is it a miracle?"
"Oh, that!", "No, no, no miracle". Zeke seemed uncomfortable to speak about his subject
"Look", Zeke seemed annoyed having to explain the facts but knowing they will not let him alone until he gave them a plausible explanation, "when I wake up near the Pearled Gate, there was a big feast in there, and there was no guards at the Gate, so I entered unchallenged and asked a soul who was walking around, what was the matter, if it was normal to find such a milling of people around without restrain."
The soul told me that it was the Millennium Feast, and that it was celebrated once each Millennium where everybody was released from their places and came to the Garden to participate in a big Raffle, each one of us should get a ticket for the lottery. So I went to get one.
"And, and", the Reverend seemed to have bought this word too, "and what happened!?" "You won!?"
"You betcha" say Zeke over his shoulder while he was going towards the pub to get some of the booze he was needing badly.
The music is a composing of birdies waterfalls, Nox Arcana, bells, and Gregorian chant to give frame to the story. The music and songs were composed and performed by several artists, hope you like it.
© 2013 Od Liam.