The Chime Time Historian

Enter the Chime Keeper

 

 

 

Land of Pink Pilasters Turquoise Turrets and Pegasus Unicorns

 

 

 

The Chime Time Historian

 

 

 

 

On the surface it appeared to be a Way-station for Wandering Wayward Souls.  The Damned.  Some doomed to wander the Land of Shadows for eternity awaiting an incarnation that would never take place.  For their souls were weighed and found wanting.

Ever had an experience that went awry?  As you kept at it thinking in your heart things would get better but realistically not.

No Accolades here………… But There is a Transitional Period

The Chime Keeper

 

 

Redemption Among the Relics

Deep Within the Underbelly of the Palace of Pink Pilasters was a medieval castle that could have been easily built or destroyed by ancient invaders from another dynasty. A grand foyer flanked by two long hallways of Byzantine art leading into Medieval Sculpture Hall filled with statues of Madonnas, Saints, Catholic Mystics, Relics, and tombs from Egypt, Europe, Greece, Cyprus and South America. Each international tomb had a goddess from the respective ancient culture at the head and foot of the sarcophagus.

Venturing further into the castles subterranean chambers were overturned ossuaries, bones bleached white scattered throughout the tombs.

 

In my haste to record within my memory banks all that Mr. Peabody lectured I loitered a bit too long at one of the displays whilst Mr. Peabody strode on seemingly ignorant of my silent absence.

 

Panicked I vainly tried find a pathway leading to my host and teacher by attempting to pinpoint his now faint vocals.  My radar telepathy was interrupted by a chubby male being possessed of pink flamingo tresses with equally flamboyant clothing who appeared to be an escapee from a fractured fairy tale.

Certainly Not expecting to encounter me he bellowed and frothed about band members of the Choppy Poppy Zany Zach allowed to wander around without proper escort.

I’m not a member of any musical band.  I’m a student and prospective Soul Seeker under the tutelage of Mr. Peabody.

“So you’re not Snakehips Susan of  Hummingbird Gardens, Florida nor a bandit seeking kidnapped souls?  

 

“Truly this man comes from a place where plants take up their roots and walk to better nourished soil.  And obviously his had not reached any mulch in a very long while.”

NEITHER!  

 

My name’s The Chime Master or as many call me The Chime Time Historian.  Qualified Expertise in Refractions of Memory.

My face produced a look of puzzlement and befuddlement coupled with lines of bewilderment such that The Chime Keeper felt pressed to launch into expressions of apology and explanation.

Young Lady mine is a Niche Unit.  Much ignored but integral to the Soul Manufacturing Mission. He huffed and puffed with indignation but his consternation was interrupted by a loud persistent gong sound that seemed to issue from his very being.

Young lady you will have to come with me!  Now!  At that point he grabbed me by the elbow and we were whisked away into what I can only call a garden of clocks. A veritable arboreal forest of tree like time pieces whose roots and hands stretched as far as the horizons in every direction.

 

Clocks of all shapes, sizes and from all time periods.  The noise of all these clocks chiming gonging and announcing the hour, half hour and quarter hour was deafening.  

Most mysterious was the clock with no hands nor did it issue the time verbally, well at least not out loud.  It’s claim to fame was to change colors or filters every quarter hour along with a persistent hum that reached into your brain and pulled onto your cerebral cortex.

 

This my inquiring student is where we program sent souls with their finite time.  Meaning the time allotted them on earth before they return either to eternity or annihilation.

 

 

Somewhat disparagingly along with a snarky tone in his voice he said, “I will help you catch up to the illustrious Prof Peabody as I’m on my way to Depot 52. Thus began a series of Frantic Antics Gestural pulls, pushes, waving of his upper extremities, the jumping and leaping of the lower limbs.  This impromptu step the light fantastic seemed to be an introduction to some upcoming magical jest.

Before my startled eyes the Chime Keeper began to morph into a series of anthropomorphic and bio-morphic shape shifting beings. 

Manifesting an enormous ruby red burgundy apron he thrust his hand into one of the side pockets and quickly anointed both of us with glitter gloss granules.

 

I felt like a Debutante late to the ball.  Rushing forward with profuse apologies I curtsied to the elegant cake.

As the Chime Keeper would say, “Humans are just bags of fleshy molecules filled with wanton desires.

Elegance and Decadence.  Deference to old style Aristocracy Aristocrats.  All Hail the Landed Gentry but Sir Death takes them all!

 

 

 

 

 

Harr! Bed Cometh!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Upon seeing us manifest Mr. Peabody exclaimed, “What O!  My Dream Warden?  Greeted us as the Chime Warden and I exited the hansom carriage piloted by a gleaming set of Unicorn Pegasus equines.

Changeling Chameleon Child returns to the nest!