Return of the Prodigal Daughter: Series Three



Return of the Prodigal Daughter: Series Three

Saga of JoyBaieda Rueine


924 Belmont Avenue ~~ Brooklyn, New York


Once the Amusement activities ended thus began Winged Garuda who brought the Initiatory Tones. Twinned Flutists paired one higher in elevation than the other but each in sync with the other. Kinship of the Elder lifts up and protects the younger. Beginning One Pulse. Pause. Two Pulse. Pause. Half Pulse. End. In this way the meeting place and all in attendance were Blessed.

Le Gui and Laila Piscatorious miraged upon the scene bringing with them their aquatic environment in suspended animation above the group.  In his seductive voice with a grin and a chuckle Le Gui announced Representatives from Mer-Land All Present and Accounted For!”

Mer-Land was once a Dominion called Coney Island.  Now a bit split off from the mainland but still essential to the Lands.  Each district of Mer-Land was governed by it’s own unique Merlin.  Dominions. Territories. Districts.  Orderly Chaos. That was the 22nd Century.



My Heart is in Havana  

 Quantico and Flowering Inferno 


In the midst of the work who should tumble out of the ether but Sir Frederick! He landed rather ungracefully with big Kaflump!  Sir Frederick or Rick as he liked to be called seemed a bit startled looking out of place in an area where he had not expected to be. As though he was in the midst of one action and quite suddenly lifted into another.

“I felt the pull through the process of flow but tried to put it off on finishing that last Cheesy fries which were not sitting well and at war with my digestive system.   Yours is the strongest power of Realization I’ve met in over 100 years.”

I had used all my Initiation Tone to draw forth all strong enough to meet the challenge.



Some only saw him as a fop or a dandy but within lay the intellect of many genius and the strength of multiple Warriors.  In secret a Scarlet Pimpernel and Zorro of bronzed sepia hues.


Fredrick H. Halstead_Sept. 6, 1898_Little's Brother
Fredrick H. Halstead_Sept. 6, 1898

The Ballad of Emerson Skreech



The Ballad of Emerson Skreech


Soliloquy for the Prodigal Daughter



A Bit of Backstory


Dream Lover Fantasy aborted. Bitch Mode in process. Engage. I felt like I was sitting in a cold damp mist after exiting a relaxing soothing sauna. Breath.

It took all the mental and emotional effort that Emerson Skreech could muster to form sentences that made sense.  Word Selection. Operate.  Emerson had to go through a mental flight plan each time he uttered a sound as he struggled with ill-fitting dentures as well as a pronounced lisp.

Breath. In. Out. In the midst of getting my scrambled thoughts into coherent words She made that serpentine motion with her tongue removing the salt from the edge of her drinking glass in one fell swoop.





Spoke by Hamlet, Hamlet Act 5 Scene 1:
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady’s chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her laugh at that.




JoyBaieda Ruein  ~~  The Making of An End


She is the Luxurious Fox to my slimy hound dog.  Joy was a slow slinky melody filled with mesmerizing syncopation.  When I Emerson Skreech discovered her all she was just another one of the irresistible creatures raising their skirts for the latest repeat customers.  Now she was a raging inferno. Impossible to contain but with each breath of oxygen eager to expand.  Myths and Legends corrupted my mind.  Emerson Skreech consumed by lust and immoral pleasures believe the best and received the worst. Bewitched by a Bronzed highlighted entrancing beauty.  At once I understood how Adama felt when God broke his companion rib.  Dancing with her though a delicate pleasure my internal cognition was slowly being extinguished.

What was sacred now becomes hideous.   Exploration and entry into her sacred Temple was a high price that cost into a then unknown future.  My engorged purple red pole dug the grave and planted the Cenotaph that singled my burial.  My shaft spit seed into a poisonous chamber.  JoyBaieda was an Orchard in Bloom and I a thirsty Gardener | Gate Keeper.  A Horticulturist of infected spores.  Her body ~~ my tomb.  Scorched, I sank into the depths of vast ocean seas coming to rest inside an abandoned house where everything was left intact. Mesmerized I expected forgetful innkeepers to return, the taps to flow, songs sung and dancers spinning, twirling and gyrating while thick beer steins are raised in toast to safe passageways.


A Punctured Romance from the start.  I’ve come to the Potter’s Field Sanatorium to bury my bones.  We were like rambling gnarling twisting trees marveling at volcanic Lava Monoliths arising from a barren windblown sandy desert.  We stripped the bark from each others branches.


A Luminous Aura Borealis burst into exploded galaxies.



To Be Continued…………………………………………………….