Wednesday, March 05, 2008

The Anecdote of: The Basilsk-de Notre Dame (Revision: 2/2008)

The Anecdote of:
The Basilisk-de Notre Dame
(Revision: 2/2008)

It would seem that there is no more to be written about this great cathedral, called: Notre Dame de Paris—, put aside, someone bringing something new and strange to the table of tales, never heard of before, that it is even possible to do so is overwhelming, and then bring forth a tragedy nonetheless—or close one—yes, indeed, it would seem to envelop the mind, would it not; but for the curious reader, read on I shall produce some light of interest in this area, if only a thread, and there is a thread of truth in this tale, but I shall never let you know where it is.

It would seem to me, if not an imamate revelation I speak of, surely the first time one has taken notice to it in a courtly manner, although it has been there, right in front of our eyes all the time, for a thousand years if not more. This creature [or being] I am about to tell you about—mythical to many (in its unearthly shadows of the night) —is but a linking element in the demonic world: this ox-eyed demon who gazes at one with vindictive glares, one might say, and yet some have claimed, by and by, he is from the lower, part of the lower world. It has also been said, and I shall say it here: he is working on behalf of heaven‘s door; in a manner of speaking that is, proclaiming to be a soldier in the upper world; the one you and I live in.
It is characteristic of this jaunty creature, that he pursues no man beyond his will, least he brings God Himself down upon him for immediate judgment. And so, in this peculiarity story of stories I will relate to the pursuit and escape as we await the rising tide. And so we stand on dangerous ground, do we not?

Where we are standing now, a bit more frightened I would say, or we should be, as the shades of this long lost mystery come to light! You see, it is said if he were to leave his post [place of duty] his fatal breath and glance could kill at will.
Furthermore, this creature I am referring to seems to have knowledge of men and their motives, strictly by instinct; far beyond the common, endowed human capabilities, they also have a rashness to danger, and a desire for longevity (like mankind), and of course the pleasures of life, I am not completely sure of but they seem to be present within their beings.
This creature, resides high up, guards as a spirit within a solid structure, stone, with life and a bitterness rising from its bosom—and yet it also has a gentle sadness upon its moored face. Moreover, he is from a long line of friends, being of a serpent form of sorts. He is said to have been given birth by a cock’s egg.
I have seen him many times, high up in the corner of the church; the great Notre Dame is what I am speaking of, of course. But one time I saw him eye to eye, yes oh yes, eye to eye—should to shoulder, as if he was part of the gallery of the gods. I stood but a few feet away from him, almost enchanted with disbelief. He is the: Basilisk-de Notre Dame; some call him the Cockatrice. Without a shadow of a doubt, we connected—I began to fear even with my Irish blood, mythology seemed to come alive for that very moment.
The Basilisk stands tall on a corner of the great cathedral, Notre Dame in Paris. He is made of stone: --as big as a small woman, but his body is only shown to his belly. He has no horns, nor tail. And I would guess he cannot fly, for lack of not having wings, which would be my best guess. But his head has the makings of a dog. His forehead is indented; eyes set back far to paralyze his prey—yet I call them ox-eyes, for they are deep rooted. His mouth curves in with a beak like form at its end. And its tongue is all of four or five inches long perturbing from its long mouth, which is as wide and long as its head: as if it were a dying bull, a purple tongue of rage. Its neck is that of a serpent, with muscles linking to its arms and chest; and a spine that protrudes outward like the ocean waves all the way up to its ears which almost start from the corner of its eyes and exceeds its spine in length. This was my demon, and Notre Dame’s gargoyle’s guard.
One cannot help but learn as he looks at him in the twilight; it, casting a gentle sadness with its deadly stone composition, he learns not to be impetuous, rather to look calmly and yield its rational and resolute heart. But no more than that, for fear that he is rebutted and tragedy be brought to cover his pride.
If I were to talk flippantly about him, people would hold me to account. Even though I have the highest respect for him, [him being: the stone creature: Basilisk], not quite a reverence, but respect,--better put: regard for; matter-of-fact, whosoever mocks such a creature it is well to know, you may very well seal your own fate, as I have already tired to imply; for in the past many have.
But what is he guarding? You may be asking. As I have asked, and asked I have over twenty-five times, --yes O yes, over twenty-five times I have walked to and fro, and through the doors of Notre Dame de Paris, over twenty-five times I should say—looking, simply looking up at the heights of the cathedral, the doors below my eyes, the statues that ascend upwards to the creature: Basilisk: ‘…what are you guarding?’. He has been there for a long, very long time, centuries. Some say he guards the courtyard. But then I think, “Does Satan cast out Satan? “ What for? Have I not heard one does not work against himself this way? Has this creature been created in the name of God? to protect man against the demons that may enter this glorious church? No more than a creature of stone, he is, is he? Or what spirit lies within its carved stone. Oh yes, yes, yes, leave him alone cries the gibbous spirits, and the hunch-backed shadows of the night. And so on and on and on he remains; as I do, looking up, as he looks down.

I have heard it said, ‘Do not destroy the foundation of a great church by name or deed, for lack of knowledge,’ and so I have left well enough alone. Let Satan and his hordes see this great church, it will do them well, if not please God-Himself. Yet it does not appease me, for I still want to know why he guards this holy ground, for I doubt it provokes him.
Yet it tells me a great story, on how hard man worked to build it, in praise of the Lord (our Savior Jesus Christ). There is power in this monument, this shrine to the Christ I know. Is it not a great reminder to all worlds, to include heaven, hell and earth, the ones we know of, of God’s glory? But I do not tell myself he is not there for that reason, nor will I fool myself into believing so. There is more to this mystery of mysteries than meets the eye. Yes indeed, and perhaps, just maybe he found a prosperous tide in the form of an investment. He is there watching, counting: reporting, and in my mind’s eye, as in humanities mentality, there is always self-interest involved: this should be no different.
Oh yes, maybe this creature is reporting, reporting what, to whom is the question, to whom? Yes, yes, yes, what could this creature, demon form, what could its coverage be? —many, just many things, I suppose such as: what could have been, should have been, the likelihood of something—or someone, and other such things; all this is conjecture of course—just thinking out loud. Like a spy in the middle of the White House, the Kremlin, the Roman Forum. Like a crook about to still the Monte Lisa at the Louvre. That is who he may be, a spy. He is part of a worldwide conspiracy maybe, possible, without a doubt!
Oh yes, the great conspiracy, to many, so many conspiracies that when a real one comes, we all say: ‘wolf, its phony’; but the conspiracy you and I are in, we just don’t know about it, otherwise it would not be a conspiracy, now would it. I can mention a few conspiracies you do not know about: The one the Mantic-ore, demon commander of a legend from the underworld has taken to the upper world; the one the Tiamat knew was coming, Mother, of Demon 10,000-years ago, yet, this one is being drawn out; the one God foretold, forewarned us about in his book called, Revelation, through the eyes and hands of Saint John. You see, we are in several of them and we do not even know it. And this one, possibly one, has to do with reporting I think.
You may be asking the question by now my curious friend: why have I brought you to this corner of Notre Dame, to this part of Europe. And where am I going with all this, where am I taking you: to a plain slab of stone, inscription, spirit filled. Hang on I have more, you are about to find out. You see, this creature can not fly, I know I kind of told you this, that was implied before, but he can control the air around him; meaning, he glides through the air with only a touch on sold things at speeds beyond any mans run; like a snake in high gear you might say. No, don’t get this mixed up with the comics, the Superman thing, or the Hawkman, no, no it is not a supernatural made up creature by me, it is made up by time, legend and folklore, and supernatural, yes it is by all means. I just happened to be around at a time when it manifested itself. No more than that, no less.
And so I was told, his look can paralyze a person, and I believe this now, for he has insured me he could (as others have whispered to me), he did not put me in harms way though, at first anyway. His will is stronger than the Mantic ore’s [the demonic creature, with a beastly body and a man’s head, as mythology would have it]. And his breath is from the depths of the abyss, that is: the pit [with odors and smells likened to a decomposed body, old and musty, and suffocating, at best]; in such a place I doubt mankind could not live, nor would a demon want to, and if he had to it would be a grave punishment indeed.
Again, I was not put to the test on this subject, but I feared in him not keeping his distance, in the black mist that surrounded him, that canopied the twilight of the night overhead of him, all-in-all, somewhat, somehow protected me from his harm. But other than the Cathedral, where did I meet him [if this is your question]? And it possibly could be mine, if I was you, in consequence, it would be circling in my mind until I received an answer, or created one, or imagined one I suppose. And so I must have one for you to read.

After he had seen me in March of 2002, he followed me, only one night though. It was 3:00 AM. He knew where I was. Many a demon has tried to embrace him I do believe, for his powers, to do their dirty deeds, but have failed; he likes his position, that is why I do not know if he is demon, evil spirit, a lesser spirit, imp, angelic in nature, or what. But, as I was about to say, he followed me. And that is where I want to take you, or where I am leading you, to our connecting. Oh his short little journey where he escapes from and to, is but around this area of the Great Notre Dame, and its island along the Seine [otherwise known as, Old Paris] its beautiful river waterway, which is more of a cannel than a river I’d say, or so it seems to me. And so having said that, let’s look at this chase a little closer.

The Glance and the Chase

I never stared into his eyes; I seemed to have avoided them automatically; nor got that close to him when he was chasing me to catch his breath, and with good sense. But it was late at night when he showed up, appeared for the first time. My wife was sleeping with the window open, the breeze flowing through her covers. She was like a little angel asleep. I was outside pacing, for some odd reason; it was a sleepless night undeniably. Sometimes, possibly most times, it is hard for me sleep when spirits of any kind are nearby. Instinctive I seem to know when they area. It is that my body signals me. That is to say, I am quite ripe, or sensitive to the invisible world’s brilliant but unstable transparency; in consequence, walking to and fro, like a confused farmer, waiting for the black-crow to show up and take the farmers corn, this is how I felt outside pacing. In this case, what would be his fancy?

As it is now, 5:12 AM, as I write this—making my notes as they come to me—four days later, I want to say I love Paris, almost as much as I love my hometown of, St. Paul, Minnesota, where I live, and almost as much as my wife’s hometown, Lima, Peru, where I have a home also. In Paris I have only a small studio apartment, along the riverbank, only but three blocks from Notre Dame, in point of fact, so this tells you I love Paris also. I reside here once or twice a year, for a few weeks of down time, as they call it now-a-days.
As I was saying, or about to say, I was pacing the outside grounds of my dwelling, whereupon this creature of sorts showed up. He tried to make a deal with me, oh yes, oh yes—a agreement, or transaction. I thought for a moment, my wife’s life was at stake, knowing she was alone, but she was not his fancy, for the window was open, and this creature in a black-stone like configuration standing but a short distance away, in a shadowy mist not far from her did no harm, and I presume he could have. But again, thank goodness, it was not his prize or price. But I’m sure he didn’t mind me believing it. Somehow fear, be it man or beast, seems to arouse a hidden pride in us, a pride in that we have the power to instill this fear, in spite of, if we want to or not. But I noticed in his voice, his posture, his distance, I think he feared he could lose his position, had he threatened my wife; that is, had he threatened my wife and I cast him into the pit in the name of Christ. If anything he did yield a key to his mind set. But it was me he wanted none-the-less, me and me alone, not her. Motives yet were not known to me.

I took off to avoid him using his fear, of endangering my wife, thus having me under his whim, so I ran off, through alleys and side-streets, in a few old buildings, and hallways: not sure why I ran through them, I could have ran around them, he was casting from a distance odd looks at me as if to say: ‘…what are you running for,’ as if I wanted to, I could have you, but as I said before, I wanted to create a distance from my apartment, for our meeting, so he could not completely overpower me. And surely he could have overpowered me.
The hotels would not open their doors as I pulled at them, and so I jumped over and around a few car-bumpers in my way. I ran to the river, and the grass along the park outside the church of Notre Dame I stopped. Then I thought, ‘…every time I had stopped he was but five or six feet in front of me, or in back of me.’ What did he want I asked myself each time, as I tried to catch my breath? Standing still, like a stone in front of the Cathedral, I started to laugh, profusely, as if I was a bit off balance.
I tried one more time to escape his shadow of sorts—a shadow that really was not a shadow, it was him, the shadow, for he had no replacement other than him; hence, he again cornered me, seeing but a black mist again, a heavy configuration within the mist, I lowered my head in coughing, being quite short winded at the time, to catch my breath. I made no solid glance through the mist, as my breath came back to me. He was not yet talking (but I knew what—if not who—he was: The Basilisk-de Notre Dame).
I asked, “Where now?” kind of huffing and puffing from the run. A joke, but it was all I had in me to say [I figured if he wanted to do me harm he could, or put another way, if he could do me harm, he possibly would have by now]. He stepped back a ways, almost covering his shadow like figure, possibly to protect me from them legendary eyes, and breathe. Sometimes I find spirits are as curious about us, as we are about them; especially those who were never human beings at any given time.
“Take this,” he said, with a whisper, slow calm voice—almost soft; he wanted me to destroy something, somebody, I thought, possibly him. I stood there; palm-hand on a car, catching my breath, up and across the street was Notre Dame, and the walls that guarded the river, you could see the river-walk. On my side of the street not all that far away was “Shakespeare And Company,” an English bookstore, a place I stop at every time I’m in Paris.
It was a weapon of sorts, so it looked, as I looked down at the gift, or whatever it was, something to harm someone with I would guess, is what he was trying to hand me. Did he expect me to pull the trigger on him, if so would I destroy him, and commit a cardinal sin or would it be a more promising sin. Was he bored [came to my mind]? Was I the only one that looked into his eyes when I was on top of Notre Dame that gave him attention in a thousand years or so? Was I his salvation, his way out, and if I killed him with this funny looking gun, of black volcanic stone, or so it looked, would I be stone. Was he the tempter, or the tumult? I had learned a long time ago, sometimes you can simply go with the flow, or die trying to explain a dimension of something that is beyond you. A world you cannot look into, yet they can look out of.
I took the weapon, and, and then all of a sudden there was a whisper telling me to use it on him, or myself, it said either way. Then there was a long pause, a very long pause—he, then, simply wanted it back. Not sure why. His fingers I remember where long, pointed, almost disjointing, strong and fearsome: as he extended his hands to me, and through the mist, to get to the weapon I was now holding. I asked myself again: was temptation his high?
Then he spoke: he said he had fought in a great battle, and upon his death, he refused to go to Hell, or the pit, or even leave the earth, that being in solid stone was better as a spirit than to face the everlasting realities of either of the two places I mentioned, or so he thought. That this time he was speaking of, was a time before the time of Adam and Eve, he was a mason in a far off distant land, of another era—a time when jaguars were almost ruling the world, whereupon God stepped in and again, saved mankind from extinction. And when he rejected God, the true God, for idols of Jaguars of that time—as gods, in the haze of battle with these beasts, and upon his dying breath, he asked for mercy, to be left in stone that he’d guard over God’s throne on earth. And so he has, but not without a price, that being boredom. But should he seek death, he’d go to Hell. Should he remain on earth, at a holy site, guarding it, and harm no one, he would go to paradise, between the great gulfs—which separates Hades and Paradise. But like all of us, he was lost in his own self pity, and at the last minute, stopped a suicide attempt (or I should say I stopped it).
I tossed the weapon back to him, and ran to my wife (for he could not kill himself for some reason), to see how she was. He was there again, outside, looking in our apartment window—looking in from at distance, as if he were in a tent in an open field—with black mist around him. I comforted her. And lay close to her. I suppose he was missing someone to talk to, the comfort of a loved one you could say—is it not true, happiness is shared, and he shared a moment with me, in how many centuries I do not know.
And so I left him be, and he me. I personally had no control of the other world I knew of, or him. I knew one way or another he wanted death by desire, but again as before some 10,000-years ago, he chose life, as we all would most likely d—I think. But I couldn’t give it to him, nor take it from him. If anything he and I were simply a distraction for one another.
My wife awoke, asking what was wrong. I told her nothing of any importance, but I lied I suppose, it was of importance, for him, and such a memory as I write now, she will see, see that it was quite a night, more so than what I had her believe it was; in any case, during this time, I looked out the window, he was nowhere to be seen, he had vanished out of my life as fast as he had come in. My wife turned about a few times, asked in a drowsy way, if all was well again. I said I was feeling a little affectionate, not able to find any other words, or for the lack of a better term, along with a little insomnia.
Now if your asking: ‘Why me,’ another blank, but it is not the first nor I am sure, nor will it be the last blank to come my way in my little life time; yes, I know, another question to a dead answer. I guess he wanted a piece of both worlds? He wanted to test me under fire in my world (and God allowed it) also I do believe, to see if I was as strong as him, possibly to bring the case up to God, get His attention, but I think he got the message, that he was already under God’s grace, not to play with it. If I meet him again, maybe I’ll ask him a few more questions, but I’m in no hurry to do so.

Notes written while in the Cathedral and on top of the Cathedral, and in the bell tower and the story written out thereafter, March, 2002; It was my forth trip to Paris, and my last trip, it was a rainy few days.

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Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Slaying of the Tiamat, in the Valley of Death

(A story of the Death of the Tiamat)

Note: for those who have not read the short and three books of the Tiamat of the Author’s, here is a fragment, he spat quickly onto the fire for his new readers. In the trilogy of the books of the Tiamat, she fights with Murdock and is killed, but this fragment was left out, now you have it. The Tiamat series was originally written in 2000.

By Dennis L. Siluk

It was said she, the Tiamat was singing when she descended back to the underworld, descended into the bowels of the earth, to the cold, wet part of the netherworld, where the Manta core, her old friend, and her daughter, Gwyllion, resided, lived among the ice worms and horrors of darkness, and all the demigods that once roamed the streets of the great city called Yort, in Asia Minor in the lost millennium, some 8800-years ago (6800 BC).
When Murdock, mangled her outside of the gates of Yort, in the valley of death, the old spat did not stop there, she swore she’d return, she paused impassively as her essence left her physical body, to the darkly overcast, a hundred human beings looking tragically on this once servant, or almost servant of the great demon Murdock, this big blood thirsty beast, shredded by its equal, or so the world of Yort thought. At that moment she was mentally deaf, lost in a daze, her hands twitched; her pale dark green eyes stared at Marduk, eyes that suddenly were crossed eyed, hanging out of its sockets. Her frame was colorless, illumined by the dim sun showing only dark shadows, the creeping in of moonlight darkened it further, throbbing around her as if she was a ghost.
The unexplainable truth is that Marduk wanted all of Yort and her worshipers in particular to be subject to him, plus, she failed in her task to unravel the mystery only Sinned knew, Sinned the philosopher of the city, and he knew when the end of the world was coming, as Murdock wanted to knew it; actually they both really wondered what Sinned knew, but the Tiamat was always afraid of Sinned’s magical whim, or so it seemed, he had the power cast her into the abyss, or at least so she heard.
Now at hand was the Tiamat’s death, her eerie shaped spirit floated above her collapsing physical body; such debasement was always in the back of Murdock’s mind, his fancy you could say, that is to say, to slay the Tiamat, he was now glad enough to watch and dispose of her at this gully, this hollowed out gorge in the valley of death, cliffs to one side, Yort above, its inhabitants looking down.
Yet she sung, sung so all could hear, sung on her decent to the imagination of course of all who heard, sung the song of revenge. They tried to dismiss it, vaguely they were all terrified of her revengeful song, all but Murdock, terrified I say, because they all felt she was impossible to kill in the first place, yet the impossible happened in front of their eyes, and it would not pass away away.

The other demigods of Yort, were troubled by this battle of course, troubled because Yort was changing, slowly changing from a multi demigod city, into a one demigod city, one by one they were being dismissed by Murdock, killed, mangled, limbs and inner organs torn out of their bodies—oh yes, Murdock could have killed them easier, but he needed to put on a show. Now it was this battle they all watched, and watched the weak and dizzy, incapacitated Tiamat fall—fall, fall… curiously puzzled she was but she fell—and they all witnessed it, perhaps thinking: when was their day coming? It was, yes it was, becoming all too obvious for the on looking demigods. Up to this point, Murdock’s cheerfulness was quenchable, but now they were all doing a odd grumbling as they watched the mighty voice of the Tiamat sing its way down into the belly of the flowerless underworld.
One of the demigods commented lightly, “We had better stick together, lest we be hunted down like the Tiamat by Murdock.” Then another voice said, “Hell, no, no Murdock always had it in for her, he doesn’t’ care about us.”

Birth of the Devil-goat

By Dennis L. Siluk

Part I

Chapter One: the Birth

It was in a little lot of farm land outside of Cairo, Egypt, 1998 that this happening, took place that a voice of a demon, and a figure of a devil peered through the skin of a goat, upon its birth, the old man shuddered at its appearance, his niece, who farmed the land with him, remained still, paused impressively as the birth took place, the old man demanded she kill the freak quickly if not instantly, crying, “Kill, kill, kill the freak…!” You could hear in the tiny head of the creature, its voice humming a death song for the old man, a chant, as it lay in an open shed, next to a large bull; a few cars drove by, a hundred-yards from the open shed—it was early, the sun just appearing lightening up the closed shack next to the shed where the two individuals lived. The old man’s hands stretched up to heaven, and he cried “Allah…!” and he fell to his knees, his niece still in amazement at this extraordinary birth, in this intriguing but not much more than a dirt farm batch.
For the rest of the brief five minutes, they witnessed from this little farm, as they remained in silent, the birth of a devil-goat, so the old man called it inside their minds, in lack of a better name.

Fatima was an orphan taken in by her uncle several years prior, her mother had died earlier because of her delicate health, she died on top of a Cairo bridge, that crossed the Nile River, under a cardboard box she had used for shelter, there Fatima remained until her uncle, Solomon, found her, and took the child to the rented out piece of land he now plowed and planted and harvested. The lonely stony plot spreading to the highway produced vegetable, and for the most part, the owner charged little for it, feeling it better to keep the price reduced and someone, thus, having someone to watch the land, and kill two birds with one stone. It was really just a large patch of land, being farmed, not a farm in the sense of a large piece of land.

The road wound past several small farms, the edge of the lot, crossed the road it was all plateau here, and the great pyramids were not far away, a beautiful sight for the tourist driving by, should he not look at the dirt farm on the other side and be disenchanted, and in front of the lot, was an old hinged fence, long was the fence in front of the roadway, and tall was grass along side of it. The old man’s face twitched with his dull and dim dark eyes as he stared at the creation of this suddenly new birth of a creature, a voice that sounded like the beating of an old deep and rustic metal drum came from its frame. It leaped up and onto its hind hoofs, Solomon was saying at the time: “See I told you to kill it…!” (Just how to kill it he d not mentioned.)
She left him presently, stepped a few feet closer to the creature, “You’ll have a chance to live,” she mumbled as she looked down upon the creature, the old man clutched fisted now.
The harsh throbbing voice, faint as it was, could somehow understood Fatima, it spoke in a foreign voice, foreign to any other language ever produced on earth, yet she could understand. She had many questions in her mind: such as, where did it come from, how did it get here, what exactly was it? She didn’t ask those questions out loud, she just thought them.
(I can answer all these questions for you though, but she would never know it for herself, not exactly anyway. It was a tragic thing that took place, casual as it seemed in the sense, one day a persons life is as it always was, and then an abrupt change takes place, but after a moments time, it all seems somewhat normal again, hence, the breath of life entering a young goat, life from another species, horrible looking, shockingly creating a goat like demon, is not casual, but it seemingly became so in time, in a short period of time for Fatima anyhow. It came from a place called: “The Prison House for Angels”, these angels were fallen angels. You’ve never heard of it you say, well, if not, don’t be incongruous, for there is and was a place called that, it was beyond Orion, created by God, long before the earth was created. It was needed more than ever back then, for when the angels rebelled, where would the damned go, God spread out a village for the damned in the dark hidden parts of the universe. Here no one could hear the faint, ghostly cries of the voices behind the invisible wall, like lions in cages they were. All floating in space and quivering in the darkness, dying in their silence from the rest of the universe, this was their abode, showered with streaks of crimson fires far beyond their reach. And then, Azaz’el was released, to be brought down to earth’s hell, for what reason I do no know. And somehow he escaped and now he was being reborn in this goat, secretly you could say, for who beyond God Himself would realize such a birth was taking place, surprisingly on the very planet the two angelic beings were to bringing Azaz’el, but of course to the lower chambers of the earth.)

Terror had swamped Solomon, yes that is what the goat-devil saw in his eyes, as it stretched out its new body to several feet; now a hoofed beast, with three horns, naked with wet hair from foot to crown. Solomon now showed more poignant terror than anyone could imagine. But the adolescent feared not, actually she started to laugh lugubriously. (The creature lost something in its birth process, something it had when in the “Prison House for Angels,” it lost its matured mind, it was now deformed, defected, reduced to a lower capacity; it knew, but didn’t know—you could say, it heard the voice of the girl, fragmented, and it stared blankly at her, he called out: ‘Mother!’ The creature was a child beast, a devil-goat, so it looked. It may have escaped one destiny, only to find a dreary new one.)
It noticed a faint skeptical smile on the girl, heard her humming softly, “You are right, uncle, I should have killed the creature, but I can’t.” she said.
The uncle tried to brush away her crazy talk, her new obsessed caring for the creature, as the creature now was all of eight feet tall, broad at the shoulders, the Uncle horrible tense, standing by that open shad, the bull uneasy, brooding about the hay.

Chapter Two: The Light

It was early morning, and light starting to stretch out over the land, the struggling birth was over; the goat’s mother had died giving birth to the creature. And Fatima was now its new mother, or so the creature thought. Fog was disappearing from the roadway, and the old man was dune quivering, all sat back against the woodened wall of the shed, seemingly like ghosts. The foreign language of the creature seemed to adjust to Fatima’s mind, although to the uncle it seemed to be nothing more than grunts and groans. The ghostly death of the mother goat, in the early silence of the morning was no more than a blur now. The old man had buried the goat, in fear if he ate it, or cut it opened, it might trigger a new development, one he didn’t want. Thus, he took the goat behind the shed and buried it. Perhaps that sounds foolish, I know, but I can only tell you how it was, foolish or not. Now flashing lights from the roadway appeared. “Damn it,” the old man said as he walked around the shed, looking at the fog lift, the car lights, “Damn it, you can’t live with this thing, it’s deadly, and it will murder us in the middle of the night.” Then as he became visible to the creature and Fatima, he went blank in the face, as if not to show any signs of complaint, said nothing distinguishable, only mumbles as old men often do. He went over to the two, pushed the dark black huge bull to the side, it moved quickly, then the old man said to Fatima, “You thought you heard a dead mans cry earlier within the birth of this creature, I do believe it was his mind changing, agonizing in the process, it went like a leap, from what it was to a child, look at it, it seems to be bloodthirsty and at the same time, excited over you looking at it, as a child to a mother. It’s a real thing for sure, but who owns it, is a different story.”
(What was going through his mind perhaps was: could he be so lucky as to try to control this freak of nature, and make money off it in the near future—like ‘King Kong’? I mean, was this a chance in a life time, or was this strange creature indeed too dangerous to play such a game with, for the old man said to Fatima: “Strangeness nowadays, people pay to see that!” It was more of a question-statement, but Fatima did not answer, and the creature simply looked at Solomon when he spoke, then looked at Fatima, somehow feeling if she looked decrepit because of his voice or words, he was dead, or soon could be. But she held her facial features, likened to flat. At this point the old man looked confused, an echo went back and forth in his brain; again he stood clutching his fists, almost fearful, but now with more force, and with anger…he shrugged his shoulders, started to walk out of the shed, and with a leap the creature grabbed him by throat, lifted him up above the ground, his feet dangling, Fatima just looked, and looked and looked, and his mouth opened, and its teeth showed and it was hungry, and Fatima looked, and looked and looked again, and the creature’s teeth were sharp like the fangs of a huge dogs, and it seemed like he wanted to swallow a good portion of the old man’s right limp, it was dangling in front of his eyes, and he was hungry, and his limbs were just dangling helplessly, a rip, a quick rip is all it would take, then the creature smiled as it looked at Fatima, as if awaiting for permission to eat, and he’d be fed, and she smiled…!)

Part Three: The Harm

“Let me go,” yelled the old man. But as the Azaz’el looked at Fatima, her face suggested with some bitterness, not to, she had and held a cold look, reprovingly saying ‘no’ and quicker than the sheering of sheep’s wool, the creature had in its mouth a limb, the right arm of the old man, and you could hear the crunching of the bones, and in his throat, which was now lumped with the limp, the creature tried to swallow…it came to look again upon its mother, Fatima, its hair long now on its naked body. He dropped the old man to the ground, her eyes widened, “Why,” cried the old man, “I took you in as a child, why did you not stop the creature, he is some sort of devil beast and animal?” The beast crawled now on its knees, rampaging around the shed like a devil-dog. The old man stayed put, not wanting to get near him Then Fatima assured him, that the creature would not harm him again, that it was a lesson for him, a terrible one yes, but nonetheless a lesson for him not to decide to do her child harm, and the sabertooth creature now clasped her hands, and kissed them.
“Oh Uncle Solomon why? Why do you think such things of Azaz, he is just born and you want to harm him, he came alone into this empty hearted world; this is a warning for you.” She was irritated with him; she glanced at him with a look of pleading almost, yet visibly wilted.
“You mean to tell me,” said the old man, bleeding from his shoulder, “a girl like you is the mother of this creature like man, or devil, it fails me?”
“Certainly I am,” she said quickly.
“Well, I’ll be—“ said the old man as he began to fall into a bewilderment, drift off to sleep, the pain was too much, and there was no relief, and when he woke up, several hours later, his wound had been attended to, one arm less of courses.

Part II

Chapter Four: The Condemned

He had awoke two days later, in the gray cold light of the morning, he felt condemned, his executioner was not far away from him in the shed, Fatima was not in the room … he could hear her voice outside talking to the bull…

DR (10-24-2007)

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Hurry up and Die

(A Short Story)

They lived across the street from one another, on Albemarle Street, they hadn’t got along for the past two years, and the son-in-low knew, the old man was moving out, away from it all. Often the old man’s daughter would walk through his yard, not say a word on her way to the bar that was across the alleyway. Her husband, Mike worked at the bar off and on. John and his wife, moved into the house with Jean lee; they worked for the old man for a few years, often took what they could get away with in merchandise, and John overcharged the old man for much of the work he did on his rental property he was for a long spell his manager of sorts (the old man gave him free rent, electricity, water everything was paid plus a salary); yet knowing the old man was ill, and had no one else to rely one, he would take advantage of him, along with the blessings of Mike and Jean lee. Then one day he up and quite on the old man, and when he found out life was not as sweet on his own, he tried to get his old job back, but the old man would not accommodate him.
Mike was not a very good helper you could say although he got reduced rent from living in one of the old man’s houses for years and he and his wife a paycheck, working for his father-in-law, he’d create jobs with John, robbing the old man when he could, even told the inspectors who would check the old man’s houses, to condemn them, when he saw something wrong, something he should of, or John, had taken care of for the old man. In addition, Mike would push gossip to the neighbors that his father-in-law was nothing but a creature, and pile lie upon lie, to the point of annoying the neighbors, yet for some reason, the neighbors wished to believe the ogre.
But this is not where the story begins, it is simply the background to a short story that sadly took place, and never should have, but too often is it not true nowadays—too often it does take place, with children badmouthing their parents, or in-laws, those who feed you. In any case, Janet the neighbor took a disliking for the old man now, whom once she had a fondness for, if not respect. But again, this is not where it all started, it started the day the old man sent a letter over to his daughter, the one who would not talk to him because of a prideful and greedy husband, the husband that grabbed him eighteen months earlier, and tried to break his ribs with a bear hug because he told him to fix the kitchen floor on one of the several rental properties he had worked on and done a bad job, the old man being a hundred and seventy pounds, the son-in-law, a hundred or so pounds more, and a few inches taller, he did survive that of course, and when the husband was told to leave, he whispered, “You’ll never see your two grandchildren again,” (ah, poor Willie and Keith) and he’d try to keep his word, for every time the kids seen the old man setting on his steps, or porch, and they’d walk by, if the kids would look at their grandfather, the husband would slap them in the head, “Turn around, don’t look…!” he’d tell the kids. And on they went.
But as I said, it all started with a letter the old man sent, saying in essence, he was moving away, far away (not giving any specifics), but it was hard on him to remain where he was, and not be subject to abuse by his daughter and her husband. So he gave her the remaining pictures he had of them, and her birth certificate, along with other items he had been safekeeping for her. She never did return an answer to the letter, although an answer was not asked for.
And so what took place was this:

It was the winter of 2004 that the old man had sent the letter, indicating he was leaving, and not ever returning, it would be in March of 2005, he would go, although Mike and his wife did not know of the exact date. Thus, Mike talked to John, saying: “I’ll never get a dime from him, he’ll spend it all now…!” For some odd reason, John came and told the old man of this, but he just smiled and walked away. Yet John and Mike were concerned. The old man, according to them had a lot of money, and was selling all his rental property, one right after the other, and they saw this, plus they say the old man’s brother coming and going with folks buying items in the house, so they had to make their move, if indeed they were going to. So they devised a plan, and they would carry it out.
It was 2:00 AM when the old man and his wife went to sleep. Janet was watching from her window next door, she called Mike up, saying, “Ok, he just turned off the lights…!” And John and Mike got out of bed, got dressed, their wives still sleeping and the kids, and then walked across the street to the old man’s house. Mike still had the keys to the old man’s garage (and perhaps John did also), and he figured, one of his old residents would get blamed for what was about to take place, but the resident was now in prison, so it would eliminate him from the suspect list. In any case, John and Mike opened up the garage door, a double garage, Mike thinking, it was now or never, Janet watching, and considered somewhat, she might be implemented, plus, she didn’t want her property destroyed along with the old man’s.
Mike walked about the garage, gathered some wood, a few brooms, papers and other flammable things, put them together, poured gas on them, then poured gas from where these items were (John watching, leaving his foot prints in the snow, hoping the bedroom light would not go on), to the car in the next stall, lit the fire, and smoke poured from the low lit flames, to the point they had to leave the garage early or be absorbed by them; soon the fire would surely burn the cabinet of wood next to it, and then being attached to the house, burn the whole place down in a matter of minutes, it just needed to burst into flames more.
During this time, the smoke seeped through the metal door, into the pantry and onto the kitchen, and slightly around the corner to the old man’s bedroom, in which the door was shut. (Had not the old man but a metal door in place of the old wood door by the garage, it would have allowed much more smoke into the house by now, for it was at least ten-minutes the smoke had been infesting the garage—circulating around it, and Mike and John had made their way out of the garage, back home across the street, and into their beds, as if nothing had happened.
The old man was sound to sleep, and his wife, some years younger, heard a voice, it sounded like her mother-in-law’s, Elsie’s voice: “Ros-a! …Ros-a!” And she woke to find out who it was, for Elsie had been dead going on four months. When she opened the door, the smoke almost smothered her, it engulfed her, but not to the point of subduing her. She looked for the fire, called her husband, “Fire…fire…!” But where was it, I mean the smoke was there almost everywhere, and her husband half in a daze, ill, said “Check the garage,” and she did, and there in the garage, it was worse than in the house by far. Next, she ran back into the house, grabbed a wet towel and covered the small fire, and opened the garage door, by that time the old man came into the garage coughing (and counting his blessings).
Had they not stopped the fire, when they did, as the Captain of the Fire Department would say later, “The way the fire was positioned against the cabinet, the whole house would have gone up once the flames got stronger, and you with it!”

And so I leave the good reader with this: beware of those who you try to love to death, for often they are the ones who wish deep in their hearts to harm you. For what comes out of their actions, and mouths, is from their heart.

Note: Written 10-22-2007

Friday, August 03, 2007

Semyaz, an Archangel's Judgement (The Runaway Comet)

The Unfinished Tale (now completed)
The Scourged Dark Ages (part II)

Semyaz, an Archangel’s Judgment

(The Runaway Comet)

Advance: If you have read the journal notes on the epic poem concerning Semyaz, and his island, in the pacific you will know his story up to that point, Semyaz (sometimes spelled with an end ‘s’ or ‘z’ both the same person, was also part of the adventures concerning th e Lihmoirils, from the Black Galaxy, in the twentieth-militiaman, BC. So he has been around for a while. Also, Andaman, a demigod who took over the planetoid Ice-cap, the moon that circles the Planet Moiromma, a nearby solar system to Earth’s; this demigod was as huge as the legendary Tiamat, and as strong as the infamous Marduk. And like a supernatural being, he could transform into the physical or invisible form at will.
And if you have read the Cadaverous Planets, the name King Luhtc will emerge; once king of Moiromma, he died on the planet and no one ever knew where he was resurrected, until now; and Bah vii the High Priest. This is one of the lost tales, also considered the unfinished tale, because it was put into a book unfinished, but will of course not remain that way. The runaway comet in this tale is the size of the small moon that is close to planet SSARG, called Rotma, the larger moon is Retina (sometimes spelled with the e and the i reversed. Some folks have identified this comet to be TPC, the large body that creeps out of the Earth’s Solar System, and over Asteroid Ice-cap, and back around and over the planet Cibara and back though the Kuiper Belt, and back into Earth’s solar system, but I doubt that it is, for still others say it is a planetoid, for there are many harp players on this runaway planet of sorts. This tale was lost and now found it is the tale of Semyas after he left the island, it takes place at the end of the dark ages (400 to 800 AD), and in to the early Middle Ages, Earth Time. And perhaps this can be considered part of the Cadaverous Planets, since most of the folks in this tale, are from that category.

For whatever reasons he was not judged as harshly as Azaz’el and Buer and his bosom and gay demonic companion, Gusoyn, both really only simple demons and for the most part avoided skirmishes except for a good laugh now and then; and it was so, when they provoked Semyas to leave his abode and commit a second unpardonable sin (if you have read the first part of this you would understand). But because he was so dumb to be tricked, Ura’el had come to subdue him and in the process gave him a new judgment that Azaz’el heard about in the deep Abyss, and was profoundly disgusted. His first harsh judgment took place in 4000 BC; this second one was as indicated before, the last years into the Dark Ages, seeping into the early Middle Ages.
Thus, his judgment was to be cast upon a runaway comet until the end of days. And now he has arrived on his comet.

All the land was cold and desolate and Semyaz, looked upon it and thought with little hope, and saw what he would call, The Rockwall Cliffs, there into its side was a dugout cave, someone had lived there before, here he would call home.
A ways down from the cliffs was a large lake, and a river that came out of it.
The orbit of his comet was as follows (which soon he would find out for himself): it crossed Earth’s sun, and through its solar system, across the Kuiper Belt of asteroids, across the residing solar system, of planet Moiromma and across the planet Cibara and into the Black Galaxy, across Planet SSARG, and its two moons, Retina, and Rotma, plus the nearby planet known as the Gray Planet, or Cirumia, and into darkness, when it came out, it was near Mars.
Semyas discovered his comet was perhaps one eighth the size of Earth’s moon. It took five years to complete one orbit around or somehow through the two galaxies, and sometimes the comet was red hot, and sometimes 400-degrees cold, where there was no heat at all in the atmosphere. Such weather lasted only weeks, and then it would change for weeks to blazing hot, between 300 to 600 F; the lakes and river would almost evaporate, completely, and the comet often would slow down, then regenerate itself and speed on through its orbit again.
It would come close to hitting objects in cosmic storms, meteorites, but it never did completely, it did gather up dust and other particles of residue, even from planets, such as eggs, and fish, also there was a few Forlorn Eagles, and Tor-rats around.
The Forlorn Eagle was a large bird, 300-pounds, with a wing span of some thirty feet; it had lived on the comet for centuries, and could only fly short distances at a time.
The Flock

The year was 1010 AD, over two hundred years had passed and to Semyaz’s surprise, he found a group of beings on the comet. Had he searched sooner he would of course come across them.
He had discovered them one night, when he sailed across the lake, and down the river away, and saw a fire, a campsite, with tents, and a small rock fortress, about thirty folks.

I shall introduce them to you: there was King Luhtc of Planet Moiromma, he had died and ended up here, a 95th resurrection for him. It seemed he was second in command. Then there was Andaman, a powerful demigod, who took over Ice-cap, the Asteroid moon by planet Moiromma, unlike Semyaz, whom was a renegade angelic being, he was a demigod whom was cast on the comet by Ura’el. Also in this little group was Shamhat, of Uruk (2700 BC), and Axon II, a shadow Demon who had once lived on Planet Mercury. And Bah vii’a, High Priest of Ice Cap, sentenced to the rock, or comet, and there was Sanet (also known as Anorf) (also known as Princess of Rotma, at one time, the large moon that orbits Planet SSARG). And then there were children, old men, women and young men who comprised the rest of the group known as the Jawbone People (because of their long jaws that hung low and outward from the Gray Planet, know as Cirumia.

(Note: the Jawbone populace —“At first glance, it looked like a real person, at second glance, it was a creature with three arms, eyes that were so far apart, it would see in back of itself; it was covered with brown leather skin, knotted like muscles, a protruding large, very large jaw; a think nose, and small ears, it wore a loincloth.”

Information from: “Planet of Gray Dawn,”
The Saga of: “Siren the Great”
Part III to the Planet SSARG


Semyaz, put long and deliberating thought on the matter of, if he should invade the group, he would be the most powerful he claimed to himself, but if he did, he could lose the only companionship he would ever have. He had remembered the evil empire that was built on Lihmoir so many years ago, where the young king and demigod Illiria took it all at will and ended up with nothing. Being a bully had its consequences. He was not of the demonic race, rather the angelic race, and dominating the group would be easy, unless Axon, tried to hold him, and Andaman tried to overpower him, both demonic beings, and Luhtc, strong as a bull, but would tire out quick, those were the main contenders he’d have to worry about. But no, he was not going to do it that way. And so he stood at the rim of their camp, night and day came and left, and he was never to be welcomed.

(A year later—1011 AD) A year had passed, Semyas had fell into a slump, darkness you could say, depression, stumbling inland and out of the rocky slopes of the Comet. He got a lot of sleep to say the least, trying to avoid his grief.
The night sentinels never allowed him to enter the campsite, as often he’d venture across the lake to see the movements of the flock. He would watch them plant and harvest the small squares of land each person of the flock would be allowed, of vegetables they had grown, and so forth. Yet Sanet still caught his eye, the late princess of Rotma (whom was born on Moiromma, and brought to Rotma, thus she had Moiromma blood, meaning she had a life expediency of 900-years, and about one-hundred resurrections, it was this, her last resurrection that brought her to the runaway comet). She was pale and old, but yet beautiful with her long golden hair, and one of a few women.
It was this one particular evening, when Semyas was standing outside the campsite, hoping to get a glimpse of Sanet, she did appear, and rumor was she was to wed Moirommalit king, ex king I should say, Luhtc. She walked up to Semyaz, which caught him off guard, surprised he was, and she said,
“You come to see me?”
Stunned for words he was indeed, but “Yes!” he said, adding “to gaze upon your beauty!”
“It is along way across the lake,” she replied (but there was something developing, in her eyes, a mood, she wanted something).
“If you wish me to be your mate on this comet, you will have to win me, and quickly, for this evening I will be wed to Luhtc.”
“Why is that?” asked Semyaz.
“I am a Moirommalit by birth, and he was King of Moiromma until he lost a battle there once, and was killed and resurrected now a number of times, he ends up here, and I have little choice in the matter unless you kill him, and he will disintegrate, and be bound for another planet.”
Semyaz did not answer right away—he thought on the matter, thought little time was left; Luhtc saw Semyaz and was heading over towards him and Sanet.

The Contest

Semyaz stood before the great bonfire of the flock, he had told Luhtc in so many words, he would take Sanet by force, or contest, as often his planet allowed for, in a dispute about a bride to be. Thus, Luhtc had little choice in the matter. Luhtc was huge as a living physical creature, and strong, and Moirommalits could endure, but could he endure a ex angelic being, whom now was a scorned archangel by heaven, and hell, and his renegade angelic flock; he also was not all he used to be. But Semyaz made his stand, and Sanet had used the moment to avoid the marriage between Luhtc and her. To Luhtc she’d be a play thing, with Semyas, she might have some sport, fun, dignity, and protection.
The harp player was from TPC, a planetoid of sorts, in the solar system of Moiromma, he played for the flock, as Semyaz and Luhtc got ready for the brawl. Any and everything was allowed. The objective was to kill Luhtc, or to exhaust Semyaz, thus, he would allow defeat of Sanet in such a case, and leave the flock as it was, with no revenge intended.

The battle had started, Semyaz was never thrown down, not to the dirt nor into the fire, he stood his ground and Luhtc, although thrown down he fought for twenty-hours, trying to exhaust the angelic being. And Semyaz was getting tired, but not exhausted, he would not quite, and it was at one particular moment, Semyaz had Luhtc by the throat, but would not kill him, he knew such memories stick into the minds of others, it might be better to give mercy, living and physical beings, and for once he did not want to win by fear, which would develop after the fight, and he said, “I will spare your life, should you retire across the lake, far from all of the flock and me.” And the king knowing he had but few resurrections left, agreed, and that evening he rowed across the lake and found himself a new abode.


End Notes of the “Soldiers of Nirut,” Series

So ends the tales of Nirut or its series that started with, “The Soldiers of Nirut and ends with, “The Runaway Comet,” and the last of the Lihmoirions and the stories of the Black Galaxy, which includes Marduk the evil one and his dealings with the whole lot. Hell’s lot also, and the few characters from Atlantis, Ais being one. In this series many characters from other stories came into the picture. Unhappy was the lot of Nirut, mingled with Terb of SSARG, malice plagued the planet of Toso (most of these being of the Cadaverous Planets). In all ways, evil sought most to cast a dim light on things, but one must judge the times. For many hated many, and those how did not smile or hate, where perhaps trying simply to survive in the feared atmosphere of the times; the Lion King of Lihmoir, turned his back on many. And Nirut and his father the Blue King conquered much, for example, the planets of: SSARG, Toso, Moiromma, Ice-cap (Asteroid-moon), Lihterb and many more places, except earth, and the moon called Retina. Somehow it seems it sister moon got spared, that of course is where the Great Siren spent much of her time, and he did not want to disturb the status quo, or perhaps out of respect, for we all have heroes, and she was his hero, as the Lion King’s hero was Nirut. Nor did he waste his time trying to conjure the Gray Planet, I don’t think he felt it was worth his effort (you know, the planet that Siren got killed on, and the Jawbone people—some of them, ended up on the runaway comet); Life seems to go in circles if we follow them. The Quiet Mound on planet SSARG was the battlefield for the main battle of all these happenings, and Yahoo, ended up being the new king of Planet Lihterb (Nirut’s home planet), and a new era came about. Semyas of course ended up on the runaway comet, the last of the stories (an era Rue and the Think Tank, with the Cobbler kind of ushered in, of course by the approval of God Almighty, how else could it be). What more can I say, it was quite an adventure, if you followed it from its beginnings. Until we meet again, on our next voyage.


The Jawbone People
Planet of Gray Dawn (or Cirumia)
Semyas, Angelic Renegade (once Archangel)
The Rockwall Cliffs of the Runaway Comet (also known as TPC?)
King Luhtc of Planet Moiromma
Andaman, powerful demigod of Ice-cap
Axon II, a Shadow Demon, Lotus Ghost (originally from Mercury)
a nasty looking shadow, with a hideous smile to it, and teeth that seemed to have layers; two legs hung
Bah vii ‘a High Priest of Asteroid Ice Cap
Rotma—second and largest moon by SSARG
Retine—first and smallest moon by SSARG
(Where King Nirut gathered his army to attack SSARG)
Sanet (also known as Anorf) once princess of Rotma

Written on tablet paper on 7-26-2007, completed on the computer on 8-3-2007 (written at the Platform)

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Sunday, July 22, 2007

The Lihmoirils (The complete series)

The Lihmoirils
(Journey into the Third Era))Part I))

(21,000 BC to 17000 BC—the Third Era)

King Roneaf of the Lihmoirils

Advance: After a time, Nirut became like many heroes, ordained to be put on the shelves in books and scrolls. The third era had come, a great concourse gathered about on the planet Lihmoir, hidden in the dark channels of the Black Galaxy. Yet it glimmered overhead, if one was looking toward it with a powerful telescope, one would have seen it. The times had changed in the Black Galaxy; Rue had driven away war, and its vapors of death, and rolled back the curses of the demon. It was a time, a thousand years to be, of freedom from temptation of the shadows, shapes, imps and ghosts of other world; a time the lifeless were and would be, forbidden to this planet this one and only planet deep within the whirlwind, vortex of the Black Galaxy, and those who would resist would be cast into an Iron core.
What Rue had done was this: he had talked to the Almighty, and with a stroke of his hands implanted all the demonic forces in the Black Galaxy, and in particular on planet Lihmoir, into an Iron-plated, nickel core, glob of rock and metal, more like incased into a meteorite, weighing about one hundred and fifty pounds of demonic residue.
Then Rue buried it deep into the soil of Planet Lihmoir, and told the inhabitants of the planet, “Should you find this destructive and cursed encasement leave it as is, do not try to break it open, or crack it, lest you release a horde of demonic creatures. For they are dead in the dark at present, lifeless; you may hear voices, but do not worry, they are circling within these encasement; demonic echoes.”

From the Journals of Roklem (Scribe and Poet of the Kingdom of Lihmoir, territory of Totemic (Totemic: known as the great city enclosure) :

“The king spoke before the counsel, saying ‘ Land of the Trees of Namear, the once dark land where little grew, has passed away, and now here lives light and happiness, for Rue has bound the demonic forces of the galaxy for a thousand years.’
“And all listened intensively, for it had taken place but a year prior to this lecture, in front of most of the inhabitants of the planet, for two thirds lived in the great city of Totemic, and the planet consisted of five-hundred thousand people. Our planet is perhaps the size of Earth’s moon.

“Forethoughts were in his mind though, yes indeed, only a year of peace and quiet from the outside demonic world, and 999-years to go, and King Roneaf was already thinking about how to capture that Iron Core, as he called it, so he could control the demons to have them help him, conquer the Galaxy, as the Blue King and Nirut did in their days, some 1500-years prior.
“A seer by the name of Odlon, Odlon, seer of the Dark Tree Forest of Namear, Namear being the name of the once dark forest to the east of the kingdom, gave advice to all whom would listen, ‘The worse of death is the loss of hope, and this planet is the last outpost of hope for the galaxy, it is to Rue, a testing ground for greed and free will, for other planets.’
“Even for those whom are well liked by Rue, such as was Nirut, and now King Roneaf, there is work that needs to be accomplished, once then, Rue will often times appear, or help, as he did with the Cobbler, so many years ago, and the ‘Think Tank’. But during the second year of this new found period, Roneaf, forgot Rue for the most part. The bliss of finding this power, decayed into a meteor was more important, or so it seemed, to where he gave little time to his wife, Ewwam. She had told him, ‘The hurts of the people have been healed, and why look for malice in the Iron Core, where Marduk is encased; it will only be confounded, once you find it and if you crack the cast.’
“But as you may know, a man in love, or a man intoxicated, or a man in lust, or a man with a compulsion, cannot stop himself, help himself, by a simple grunt and plea from his wife, no, pain must accompany it.
‘No, I wilt no grant what she would ask!’ he told his many counsel members, and asked them to back him on this future search into the Dark Tree Forest of Namear.
“Then Ewwam spoke to the counsel, as wives can do on Lihmoir, and said,
‘Hearest thou my friends and leaders, hearest my words (silence)—speak yea or nay! If you deny Rue’s gift, and find this Iron Core, and crack it, what will stop the demon from darkening the light for the Lihmoirils? For did not the darkness fade because of Rue?’

“Said Rodlon, the High Priest and Adviser to the king, and layman seer, in front of the ten member counsel house: ‘We should not be so quick, we know’st not much of this Iron Core, only what legend says, and what King Roneaf heard from Rue, and the words of a cautious Queen. Let us have peace a while longer before we stick bitterness between us and conquest beyond us, for I am old, and indeed my heart needs rest.’
“The king was of course not happy with either his wife or Rodlon. But the king said in his heart: if I must break the rules of the counsel, I shall (for he needed the majority to agree with him), and it was a tie, a knot. Not the first in his life perhaps, but a tight one.
“Now there was silence in the counsel chamber, and the king brooded in the light of the assembly room, he was beset by the tie, looked upon his wife as the enemy, and Rodlon, said, ‘Are we safe with a king that may be possessed with this act of finding and revealing the thieves of the Galaxy?’
“The king knew Rodlon had read his heart, if not his mind, and then the king cried out, ‘Thou hast spoken, and I will adhere to it; this thing, Rodlon says I will do, I will not do without permission. But if you constrain me, then shall I pick my army to subdue you, and your kindred.’
“All knew it was best left alone. Then I, Rodlon rose, lifted up my hands and proclaimed the counsel was now behind the king. But to me, it was by name only, for I read his heart. I had seen in vision a reign of doom, should this Iron Core be cracked.”

Cracking of the Core

(Author Narrates) When King Roneaf had found the Iron Core, his wife, Ewwam grieved for the anguish that would befall them, for she had talked to the great seer of the Dark Tree Forest, and Odlon, whom saw and wept for this moment even before her, and now she feared that the darkness that was now falling, swallowing up the light of the forest, and shadows and shapes taking its place, peace would soon be gone forever. She fully understood, but the king perceived he still could talk to Marduk and his kind the other henchmen of hell, and make a deal for power with them, but they all passed him away, as hawks flying in the night to find their prey, not one gave good tidings to their savior. And one, Tye, the lustful one, grabbed Ewwam by the shoulders, dug deep into her skin, likened to eagle claws, and swept her through the forest, slapping her along the way with strung-out branches, and she screamed, and the king stood there in shock, could not do a thing. To deal with the devil, one needs thick armor, and he had forgotten his, it was Rue.
There was no escaping them; there were thousands in pursuit of the kingdom now, over the forest they whizzed like hornets. Then Marduk came grinding his teeth to Roneaf, and he stood in mid-air, said, ‘You will never see your wife again you know, Tyr does not share, and he eats them after he has his fun, or simple has them bear his children, one after another, until he gets tired of them.’
‘What wouldst thou have more?’ said the king.
‘I can take what you offer, and more, why would I ask…go feed thy belly, I did not vow to give you a thing, I am your Lord now, you have freed me to be so, knowing or not knowing, if you defy me, Tyr will have his fun with you also.’

And so it was, in those far off days where peace lasted less than two years. And the king clenched his hands in pain, a dagger in it, and he would not open them, ‘Nay’ he said, and rose from his throne, and stuck the dagger into his heart, and awoke no more. Odlon the seer burnt the king, and threw his ashes to the east winds out to sea, and they landed in deep and forgotten places, among the rocks and waters of Tnailognu, the great sea of Lihmoir.

Devil Ghosts

And Rodlon, the High Priest and Adviser to the previous king, and seer of sorts being free (after a year of incarceration) gathered again all his belongings which was not a vast amount and hid in the mountains from what was known now as the devil ghosts, that grew and multiplied on the surface of the planet, by cohabitating with the females, and Marduk, the Tiamat, Tyr (Ewwam gave birth to a hybrid, Tyr’s child), and Agaliarept, the Henchman of Hell, was present and became kings of the world.

And Marduk created a great crown out of iron and nickel out of the Iron Core, the meteorite, and wore it wherever he went.
Seldom indeed did Rodlon leave his cave in the mountains (he wrote his journals), nor did he create a weapon to save himself. For now, more than in the days of King Roneaf, Rodlon was at peace; humbled peace if anything. His hatred devoured him though for the domination of his world by the insidious devil ghosts. Nonetheless, the terror remained, the mighty demons sank deep into the soil of the planet, and darkness and fear lived on.

Index of Characters and Places

Agaliarept, the Henchman
King Roneaf: of Lihmoir
(Who seeks he Iron Core)) The Great Enclosure of Totemic))
Land of the Trees of Namear
Lord Rue of the Black Galaxy
The Cobbler of the Think Tank
Roklem, the story teller (Poet)
Rodlon, the High Priest and Adviser
Ewwam, wife to the King
Odlon, seer of the Dark Tree forest of Namear
Tyr, a demonic being, insane and lustful
Marduk, the Dark Lord of Hell, third in Command
Tnailognu, the Great sea of Lihmoir

Outline written, 7-17-2007, revised and rewritten, 7-19-2007

The Devil Ghosts of Lihmoirils
(And the Lion Boy)

(Journey into the Third Era)) Part II))

(20,985 15 BC to 17000 BC—the Third Era)

Advance: After a time, fifteen years to be exact, Marduk and his horde of henchman, ruled most all of the planet of Lihmoir, except for the hills and mountains beyond the Dark Forest of Namear, the hills known as Chaeronsierra, where ¨Rodlon, the once High Priest and Adviser to King Roneaf was hiding out in a cave. Amongst the caves were tribes of nomads, wonderers from one area of the mountains to the next. The mountains covered some six-hundred miles long, and two hundred miles wide.
Ewwam had given birth to a boy, his name was Illiria. Agaliarept, the Henchman from hell, number three in the hierarchy, was now the unpredictable politician of the great and large city of Totemic, other wise known as the great enclosure.
Illiria, was a hybrid, two thirds superhuman, and gave his allegiance to his father, Tyr, always seeking power from Marduk although, as his father was more of a playboy, and gave his allegiance to whatever lust befell him at the moment. He was a prepossessed maniac.
The boy Illiria, was know as the Lion Boy, for his heart for battle was strong, and at fifteen years old, he was six feet tall, broad and strong as five Tor-rats. He hunted with Marduk, played politician with Agaliarept, and watched his father produce several more offspring’s, all girls. Tyr, he never took a wife to be a wife, most of his daughters, six out of the seven were retarded, and were too ugly, and large to be betrothed to any Lihmoirils, thus, other demonic beings took them to cohabitate with.
And now I should leave you with the Journals of Rodlon.

(The words from the Journals of Rodlon, 20,985 BC): “Roklem, was still alive in those days, the poet, scribe, yet he did not write much on what took place, although he did talk to me much on what took place at the palace, and with Tyr’s son, Illiria, and so I shall mix my journal notes with his and with a little diplomacy, I shall try to bring out a clear and obvious picture of what took place, and put rumors aside, as often they do creep in. History is vague at best, and I do trust Roklem, for he outlived many of his coworkers, because of his imbecility.
“Marduk owed his accession to being king because of his fighting demon, his so called assembly, of which there were 200-left, out of thousands. The others had left in fear Rue would come back and banish them again. Thus, he was not officially decreed by the inhabitants you see as king, just by the two-hundred. Actually, the Tiamat was passed over, and from what I had heard, she was his arch-rival to be, and she was in the past, what I saw in the future I mean I had insight from Odlon the Seer, yes, he is still alive and trekking the mountains with the lost tribes of the Chaeronsierras (the great mountain barriers of Lihmoir).
“But it was Illiria who made the big difference on Lihmoir (or would in future time) after the demonic forces were set free by King Roneaf. The boy lion was intellectually outstanding, and flexible and swift in his adjustments. Emotionally he was—so it seemed—was seemingly looked upon as in another time zone. He didn’t mind physical hardships, or pain or danger, under extreme psychological stress he would break rather than bend. In that sense he was not his father’s son by far, rather his mother’s.

“In the First Great War of the Chaeronsierras, the first phase I should say of the war, the Tiamat and Agaliarept had taken an advanced force of Lihmoirils soldiers, and demonic military across the mountains, to wipe out the nomadic tribes. Sesra, known as the chief-maker (for he was the main chief of the nomadic tribes, and had decreed several others to be under him, not quite equal, for he had the biggest of the tribes numbering one hundred and fifty followers.)
“He gave the demonic forces a lot of resistance, and both his tribes and the demonic forces were disorganized, and his in particular weak, for the mountains were a hardship on the troops, it was cold, and food scarce, and men became lean.

“Illiria, had taken a small command in this expedition, his father was happy to see him gone, he was if anything a nuisance for him. It did seem, the hatred of his sisters followed behind him, and their husbands, but he paid little attention to them, for it was of more concern to Illiria, how he was seen by his commanders than by his sick family, all except for his mother whom was held in the kingdom (captive), and still held her beauty, and the deep claw marks Tyr had put into her shoulders 16-years prior.
It was funny, but very true Illiria was more trusted in battle than Tyr by all in the coming battles of the mountain war. Thus, when left behind, it didn’t bother anyone.

The God’s

“It was after this phase of the war, Marduk, had a festival of games in honor of his command and trusted soldiers, Himself, the Tiamat, Agaliarept, Semyas (the astrometry demon) and wanted Illiria to be present for the Lihmoirils trust him, over them. Then at the festival, he brought out wooden images of themselves, the images were paraded all around the stage and had lifelike colorings to them, sculptures also of marble were brought out of the four demon, and they gave them out to the onlookers, and then Marduk, ensured the public should they keep these images in their homes, and pray to them, they would be safe, for they were gods. Illiria was proclaimed a living god too, as the demonic forces were proclaimed a supernatural god. Illiria wanted to refute such heresy, but for the moment should he, it would be seen as tyranny, and he’d be ostracized from the kingdom, and not be able to do no one any good.
“There followed a ceremony on stage somewhat of a show, and the demonic forces flew here and there as if they had wings, and some did produce them upon flight, growing right out of their shoulders like magic. To the Lihmoirils it did not seem suspicious; it seemed correct and real, as if they were demigods.”

Index of Characters and Places

Semyas, the Astrometry Demon
Sesra, the Chief Maker (nomadic tribe leader)
Illiria, son to Ewwam and Tyr the Demon
The Great Mountains: Chaeronsierra
Agaliarept, the Henchman
King Roneaf: of Lihmoir
(Who seeks he Iron Core)) The Great Enclosure of Totemic))
Land of the Trees of Namear
Lord Rue of the Black Galaxy
The Cobbler of the Think Tank
Roklem, the story teller (Poet)
Rodlon, the High Priest and Adviser
Ewwam, wife to the King
Odlon, seer of the Dark Tree forest of Namear
Tyr, a demonic being, insane and lustful
Marduk, the Dark Lord of Hell, third in Command
Tnailognu, the Great sea of Lihmoir

Outline written, 7-17-2007, revised and rewritten, 7-19-2007

The Lihmoirils: Feast of Doom
(Journey into the Third Era)

(20,984 BC—Part Three)

Agaliarept was the master of words and had good insight into the changes in a person’s behavior (as if he was a psychologist), as was his job in hell to lead a legend of demonic military, and during his time as High Priest of Atlantis he needed to be alert to the minds of the day (in future time, yet to be). He had no hair on his tongue, that is to say, he said whatever he wanted to say, whenever he wanted to say it, he had power in his words, doom in his heart, and banishment in his brain for those he did not like, and he did not like the Poet Roklem, yet Marduk did. It would seem the poet brought too many questions to meeting tables, talked to too many people, was creating rebellion and unrest.
Agaliarept’s words were tense and full of anger and pride, even the Lihmoirils (whom were his backup) where becoming apprehensive of him, yet they liked Agaliarept for he allowed leniency for rape, murder and all capital crimes, and yet he punished as one of the four punishers, or judges of the great city of Totemic, harshly those who talked or gave resistance, rebellion, or anti demonic terminology: these were next to capital crimes, and could get a person onto the free labor force of Totemic for five years to life, if not need he faced death, no one in this society was going to feed freely an inmate, it was to them insane to thing tax money would be provided to such violators of the law. And he was looking for an opening to sentence the Poet of the city in such a way.
But again I say, Marduk liked him, and I would guess because he wrote sonnets of him, odes to him, Lyrics about him.

But a change did take place, and I shall be sad to say what I must say, but I will nonetheless say it, his family was raped, I mean his wife, and his father and his children killed. But here he was left alone looking at this disaster in his home within the city limits. No one was captured for this atrocity, nor punished for it. Marduk did not stick up for Roklem the Poet, lest he look bad in front of his comrades, plus, one should know, the psychotic ness of a demon, is exactly what it means, he has no real feelings for the human race other than to use them, they lie compulsively, and are offended easily, as a manic might be. So this meant very little to him, other than trying to get a new ode out of him.
But his cries were heard throughout the city, “Why of people of Lihmoir, why should we not fight these demonic beasts that have no truth inside of them. They do not serve humankind, we are their foe.”
This oratory was heard all over the city, and it was exactly what the henchman was waiting for, and he knew he would not have long to live, if not killed incarcerated. So he escaped at night, and found Rodlon in his cave in the high mountains of the Chaeronsierras. In a way I suppose this dramatic scene made him valiant, but why must such a tragedy wake one up, such a price to pay.
Said the poet to his long time friend, Rodlon, “Vengeance calls me hence, but even if it did not I could not stay longer in a place that lives solely on pretence, and self-interest.”

Sitting now in Rodlon’s cave, over a glass of honeywine, the poet Roklem added,
“Here once was light, not Rue begrudges us it because of one man’s dirty heart. Thankless the king of old was, but do we not deserve a second chance, is not Rue unfair to us?”
And it was that Rue heard the plea, it echoed past his celestial abode, and he descended into Rodlon’s grotto in the high sierras.
Said Rue, with a vibrating voice, as if he was underwater, and only an outline of him could be seen a mist of white due, a large being with a white robe, and tunic: “For shall be the end, the people shall select the king and long and hard shall be the road, the demon will have his voice but not his power, and all shall be equal in strength, but bring your swords should you tell an untruth just once to me poet or king for whomever rules this land, then shall I will let this binding, this knot, unravel for it will be your fault you have broken this covenant with me!”

Now Roklem was known as the Poet-king, and had told Marduk—now simply a General—“I will be gone for a short while, I need to find Rodlon, whom is migrating across the mountains to the other side for winter is coming here, and spring is rising there, and I need to talk to his seer, Odlon to see what is in store for next year, I wish to be prepared.” He was obligated to inform his generals, and he did not want a rebellion with the demonic forces to fire them, thus for the meantime he left them in positions he could control (for he was much preoccupied with not telling an untruth or being caught up in one).

Agaliarept, overheard the conversation, said to Roklem the Poet-king, (with Marduk present), “We are having a banquet in your honor, on the first day of summer, during the Summer Feast,” which was 78-days away, “will you be present?”
The king said automatically, without thinking, “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” (That had sealed his fate.)

The Feast of Doom

When the poet-king left, Agaliarept laughed, and spoke to Marduk, “So! Now all we have to do is make sure he does not return on the first day of the “Summer Feast—as I figured, his pride got in his way with the dedication—lest he be told by someone his kingdom demands he be present, and reminded of his pledge to be so.”
Said Marduk “Yea, in the end shall he follow me!”

And it was that the Poet-king did reach Rodlon half way to his destiny, and the snows were heavy on the mountains at this time, and along came a blizzard snowing everyone in the camp solidly in, and they could not reach the second contingent, where the Seer was, perhaps now on the other side of the mountains. So the king’s long arduous journey to find Rodlon although successful was half complete and the days passed with both Rodlon and the Poet-king talking and drinking and allowing the blizzard to wear itself out. Thirty-five days had passed. And he had thought briefly of his feast, but it did not dawn on him, he had an obligation to reach the kingdom on the very first day of summer.
Nonetheless, the Poet-king left the campsite on the 36th day, and headed on back to Totemic. It was a twenty-day journey. It was now the 56th -day he was gone, if all went well, he’d be back home on the 76th -day. But on his way back, the weather was not kind to him; he had to remain a day at another old campsite to allow the winds and cold to die down. They had lost several pack horses, and the food was 80% gone, and thus, the going was slow, and the rations almost used up.
He and his entourage arrived back to Totemic, on the 77th Day, only to find Marduk on his throne—then it dawn on the Poet-king, he had broken his word, and the powers of the demonic forces were now in full strength.

Index of Characters and Places

Semyas, the Astrometry Demon
Sesra, the Chief Maker (nomadic tribe leader)
Illiria, son to Ewwam and Tyr the Demon
The Great Mountains: Chaeronsierra
Agaliarept, the Henchman
King Roneaf: of Lihmoir
(Who seeks he Iron Core)) The Great Enclosure of Totemic))
Land of the Trees of Namear
Lord Rue of the Black Galaxy
The Cobbler of the Think Tank
Roklem, the story teller (Poet)
Rodlon, the High Priest and Adviser
Ewwam, wife to the King
Odlon, seer of the Dark Tree forest of Namear
Tyr, a demonic being, insane and lustful
Marduk, the Dark Lord of Hell, third in Command
Tnailognu, the Great sea of Lihmoir

Outline written, 7-20-2007, revised and rewritten, 7-21-2007

The Lihmoirils:
Rebellion of the Little Lion

(Journey into the Third Era)

(20,983 BC—Part Four)

Illiria, the hybrid born of Tyr and King Roneaf’s wife, Ewwam, was now seventeen years old, some eight feet tall, and quite a sportsman, and military officer. He was well liked among his own kind, the hybrids from the 200-demonic creatures that were now cohabitating with the women of Lihmoir. Many of the demonic forces took for them wives from married Lihmoirils, and their daughters at will, and now there were more children than the original two-hundred.
Illiria had now taken sides with the Lihmoirils, and had visited Roklem the Poet, and Rodlon, the previous advisor to King Roneaf. He wanted to help, and in this meeting in Rodlon’s grotto (help free the planet of chaos from the two-hundred renegade demonic forces), Odlon the Seer was present. In addition, Illiria, had found six young comrades his age, or perhaps a year younger, who felt the way he did, that the planet would never survive as long as the evil forces outnumbered the good forces.
And what could he do and his giant comrades do to rid the evil forces of the planet once and for all, assuming Rue would not intervene, for he had twice before, and twice he was let down.
The name of the followers of Illiria was: Ralov, Thogrom, Omlu, Ronaef’el, Ramadle, and Ewlo.

The Great Summit of Chaeronsierra

It was the third day of the meeting, called, ‘The Great Summit of Chaeronsierra,’ and Odlon the Seer had made several swords out of a meteorite, it was so strong it would, with the might of a strong man, cut through an enemy’s sword. And thus, Odlon, sitting around a fire, with the other guests, cast a spell on the swords, and summoned the several members of the Think Tank, the collateral and cosmic body that had oversaw Toso, years prior, in particular the Cobbler, asking the Cobbler if he and his group would be the new vanguard of Lihmoir, and how could the forces of Illiria overpower their parents?
The Cobbler did appear at the third meeting, in the physical form, he was likened to his comrades (The General, Governor, Captain…etc.) under the command of Rue, yet Rue had given them the planet Toso to rule over (but that is of course history now).
This, said the Cobbler, “At your request I have come, Rue has given only me to you for advise, and I myself am not beyond the power of Marduk and his horde, perhaps equal at this moment to them, but surely not able to devour all two-hundred, as I’m sure you would like me to,” pointing to Illiria.
The Little Lion (Illiria) then showed his teeth saying, “Cannot you or the Seer, make my fangs poisonous and thus, when I bite the enemy, they will disappear?”
The Cobbler smiled, said not a word, as if it was a rhetorical question, but added,
“I have an idea, a psychological tactic, with substance.”
(During this meeting the Seer gave to each of Illiria’s forces a sword, to include Illiria. Then he cast a spell on the swords, and they glowed, as if they were of radiation, and he said, once you cast this sword deep into the guts of the enemy, they will be bound into the abyss of the same material they had once come out of through a crack made by the old king, King Roneaf.) And all who listened believed. And he named the spell, “The Spell of the Little Lion,” and the swords took the names of its owners and spoke as if they were living things.

And Rue planted into the minds of the two-hundred demonic beings, this obsession of death to those who would be cut deep by the swords. But only the Cobbler and Seer knew of this. And word had swept through the Kingdom—as often times bad news does—that a meeting had taken place in the grotto of Rodlon, and Marduk, the Tiamat and Agaliarept heard the echoes of the meeting, they called these echoes to their chamber, and listed to them for hours, read the hearts of those who spoke, and those who listened at the meeting, and those who believed this was so. And they could not discriminate a falseness of this (though it was psychosomatic). And the demon heard the swords talk, and knew it was of a higher power, and they wondered and worried.
Henceforward, the day of the battle arrived, and all seven young hybrids, stood solidly together at the gates of the city, in the uttermost darkness, the Little Lion, was in front of all six. The hearts of the 200 were sunk in despair, Marduk and the Tiamat, left, as did all the others except Semyas, who claimed, he did not go along with the group, therefore was not subject to its punishment of abandonment. And Illiria, gave him refuge, and allowed him to remain in his old position (astrometry demon).

And so closes a chapter on Lihmoir history, but let me add for your sake, Illiria became the youngest King on Lihmoir, as the Poet, stepped down, by his own free will, and did what he did best, write poetry and wrote his journal; the people elected a hero in his place, and were very proud of him. And it also must be said; King Illiria admired King Nirut, as perhaps the Alexander of the Black Galaxy; as we all must have heroes. And in time, Illiria would become liken to Augustus of Rome, and rule the planet for 44-years, and then … (well that’s another story).

Index of Characters and Places

The names of the followers of Illiria were:
Ralov, Thogrom, Omlu, Ronaef’el,
Ramadle and Ewlo

Semyas, the Astrometry Demon
Sesra, the Chief Maker (nomadic tribe leader)
Illiria, son to Ewwam and Tyr the Demon
The Great Mountains: Chaeronsierra
Agaliarept, the Henchman
King Roneaf: of Lihmoir
(Who seeks he Iron Core)) The Great Enclosure of Totemic))
Land of the Trees of Namear
Lord Rue of the Black Galaxy
The Cobbler of the Think Tank
Roklem, the story teller (Poet)
Rodlon, the High Priest and Adviser
Ewwam, wife to the King
Odlon, seer of the Dark Tree forest of Namear
Tyr, a demonic being, insane and lustful
Marduk, the Dark Lord of Hell, third in Command
Tnailognu, the Great sea of Lihmoir

Outline written, 7-21-2007

Thursday, July 19, 2007

The Marvel of King Nirut (22,494 BC)

The Marvel of King Nirut
(22,494 BC)

We have read of the Young King of Lihterb
and his scribes, their journals, some of war
and of pain, and some of joy and merriment,
and some of betrayal, guilt of past adventures,
of all those things, of all things that men sayith,
King Nirut, his ways were thought of heavy of
adventures in days where lords, ladies, and kings
marveled at such heroes and he became their legend,
the King of Kings, of the Black Galaxy…!

He loved his women and music, to him they
gave honor; he even learned to play the harp!

Nirut was a king in the vast cosmos (in the
Second Era): lording over everybody, a
powerful man, hard eyes, not large, as many;
his father was the Blue King, first conqueror.

He was like the gods of old, his enthusiast
often told; and at times he was full of love,
and genius —yet no man could tell his fairness,
and to him nature sang!

(Shamhat) She foretold her honor and fate
and broke her vision, and slept with the King
for rich robs, he had given, and was reveled
out of her wit, for the king kept two mistresses;
but she could not play the full game, of love
and shame, for the warrior king…!
(So she claimed, so she claimed, told her heart….)

Her spirit would be broken she vowed, and craved
(so she proclaimed and proclaimed, to all)
“I wish for a simple man, to love and kiss…!”
(This lady of elite status of Lihterb.)—She was just a
Damsel to Nirut, sex, no more…and thus, she
left the king’s bed, to return no more.

It was in short time she found a young warrior
Oefro—who took her to bed, and held her fine
and fast, as his mistress, and perhaps in time
to wed… (and their lovemaking became daily).

When King Nirut heard of these tidings, he
thought, “Was my love for her nothing?”—
hence, he came with a dozen warriors in the dark
of night, surround the bedchamber, with light:

(long did she lay with Oefro, Captain of the
Fifth Division) said the jealous king) “Thy body
that was so sweet and pure, is rusted like old
nails—alas! Thy face is pale, and my Captain,
tell me what this is…? Do thy best, for you both,
sadly…pitiful—you will soon be thy ghosts!”

“Nay, nay…” said the warrior—“as this woman
lay under me, she came to me one fair night!
and she spoke with me my king, and now you
come to slay me, I know a hundred damsels,
she is but one.”

The king laid his hand on the bed, and he put
a dagger before him, it was of shinny silver,
and bright with red gold, had precious stones
as bright as Shamhat’s eyes, and said to him
accordingly: “Look, tomorrow you and I will be
right, and then shall we go to war, as customary,
where thou be, is up to ye (and Oefro took the
dagger—and then the life of Shamlaf!... ),”

“Ah!” Said the king, leave me to my grief…
I will seek counsel with Yahoo—“and Oefro’s
hands reached out to the king, and his warriors
stopped him short.

“We must now weep, and release our sorrow,
for surely she wished she had not been born!”

And the king left the chamber, and Oefro left
his way—and Nirut said, “She was the fairest
of them all, but knew not a kings heart. And now
ye understands, and will live in my heart,

Note: No: 1908, 7-17-2007

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Nirut Fights the River of Cibara (22,495) In the Conquest of Planet Cibara

(22,493 BC)

Advance: the Brutes of Planet Moiromma (originally part of the: Cadaverous Planets), done in several episodes for the series (2005-2006). THE Cadaverous Planets were originally written in 2004, and added on to ever since. So for Nirut to go to conquer Moiromma, should not be unusual for the reader should she or he know the history of Moiromma, and the Cadaverous Planets, which now Nirut somewhat belongs to, and is somewhat independent of, since he is from the Black Galaxy, and Moiromma is really a neighbor to Earth’s solar system, and part of the Milky Way Galaxy.

The Brutes appear in about five episodes in the ‘Cadaverous Planets’, and is a conquering group of Moirommalits, perhaps similar to Hannibal in his day. They ruled Moiromma for a short period of time. And now Nirut has decided to conquer this planet, since he has done so to all those around Moiromma, or is doing so at the present, or about to do so.

They, the Brutes, have what is called victory fights (perhaps similar to cockfights), in the Brute Ville, close to the cave-dwelling on Moiromma, where the king lives. Kahg is presently king, and will be defending his title soon. But at present a battle is developing (a war of sorts), and Nirut is in the middle of this battle. It is a different kind of battle in that the land of Moiromma is an arctic like planet, except for summer, which is six to ten weeks lone, and it is now summer, a the present time. Yob will be trying to win the title of kingship, after the battle is over. But none of this should matter to the reader, for it is the one main battle here that counts, and the Brutes howl as they fight, howl when they die. The Moirommalits are a primitive people, race, large structured people, and when they die they have a hundred resurrections before they give up life completely. They end up usually on another planet, upon resurrection. And I think this is enough to entice you into the battle of the Trench, or armies that howl, that is now taking place on the planet Moiromma, by the Ville of Brutes. Their world has been invaded by Nirut, and there are about 20,000-inhabidents, and that is about the number of infantry Nirut has at his disposal, with his five-hundred ships, that now have landed on the planet.

Armies that Howl

Back through the sharp cold winds and across the trench they fled, the hordes of Moiromma, the Brutes, whom were cut down at the ville, hands, feet, and all—the rest, only after they reached the King’s dwellings, stood fast,
washed-out with fear, whipped in frantic flight.

This moment, Rue awoke on the heights of Adi,
beyond the valley of the Brutes, and dwellings,
King of the cosmic throne—; Nirut leaped to his feet,
as the Brutes’ army routed, rushing here and there.
Nirut attacking, and the god Rue, watched in lay,
and Marduk the demon, saw what Rue saw; struggling hard for breath, Nirut’s senses shocked, he panted,
blood pouring from his side… the man that pierced
him was among the strongest, Yob, contender for kingship
on Moiromma…perhaps in proxy, under Nirut.

At the sight of Yahoo King Kahg, of the Brutes ran,
(the strongest of men), and Rue filled with pity now.

Marduk, now shooting a dark glance down at Nirut,
burst out at him a howl (echo), “What a debacle you craft!” To uncontrollable Marduk—said, Rue, “What is your treachery—? “Halting his assault to be on Nirut’s army.

And a whirlwind from Rue spread like a whip, and
struck Marduk, on stroke, he fell to a knee—in mid-air.
And Rue slung a massive anvil with iron chains
at him, it lashed around both hands and feet…
(as below the armies of the Brutes, howled and howled
in defeat).

Kneeling there helpless, Nirut seized the moment, and
sent the Brutes plunging over one another to their deaths.
Headfirst many were hit on the head, and fell to the dirt.
Not even then did Rue lament for Marduk, or the Brutes,
the godless ones, as he called them, ‘Always plotting
miseries for your own kind, and fight for the crown of
Moiromma, save, besides those of men, as you torment
and embrace, lust and waylay, seduce the blind, and aged,
this is your reward.’ (So shuddered his voice in
thunder, so all could hear, protesting their ways.)

Note: No: 1909, 7-18-2007

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