Farewells Ain’t Always Final


Naivasha

Snippets of Stories


Snippets of Stories turn into Treacherous Tales


Sad to be unearthed from a peaceful slumber. Birthed from a Place of death.

It was the Scent that unearthed him. An untimely aroma that penetrated layers of dirt, weeds, rotting leaves, beckoning him to return. He was a professional Snifler rising to the ranks of Master Scentinal. Meaning One Born with an extraordinary sense of smell.

He had the ability to recognize more varieties of scent, odor and fragrance plus the accompanying emotions and feelings. Better than any tracking dog or hunting hound. His nose more delicate and discerning than any long time Sommelier. Most Excellent of all Proboscis.

The townsfolk built a Cairn over his body little knowing that neither well entrenched tree roots nor volcanic mountains spewing Lava can stop his progression. How He came to be in this backwater Medieval Dark Ages place far from African homeland is a story within a tale. This place a desolate wasteland caught up backwards in time. Theirs a nation that broke away from Antarctica, sunk into ocean depths and arise. Sadly Erroneous Euros had infected his home continent like a Raging Virus spreading infection everywhere they stepped foot.

His anomaly is that though he is buried He can never decay unlike the putrid rancid corpses reeking of decomposition which surround him in the City dump miles outside city limits, where thieves, beggars and criminals make their home alongside the garbage and trash.


He need not sully his immaculately groomed fingernails clawing seeking release from rubbish for his drones will dig him out. The drones are akin to the Flying Monkeys featured in the Wizard of Oz film. While awaiting rapture he casually cracked his knuckles hands protected by satin silken gloves.

The Foolish townsfolk are held back in chains by their stupid superstitions. They are prisoners of their fears. Fear has its own unique smell specific to that person. Communal Security rooted in fear provoking failures.


He felt like the Three Wise Men except he lacked the companionship of the other two. Here and there they were Renaissance pockets periodically springing up only to be beat down by the Ignorance of the Majority.

Erroneously thinking that this minor man made avalanche composed of debris and junk is able to imprison him. Playing to their ill seeded minds they though many in number have absolutely no negotiating stance compared to Him as he has been in space, time and detentions before the time of Adam and Eve.



He who was dispatched by The Ancient of Days Shall Render Justice until The Arrival of Time of The Ascension.


Like Hoarders these uneducated stubborn Villagers hang onto rituals and rites creating more dogmas and doctrines for each occurrence they could not explain. Little did they know that their archaic beliefs caused Him to arise. .

Birthed in Africa his Fellow creators gave him the name Naivasha or Nai’posha which in the Language of the Originator Indigenous Peoples means “Rough Waters.” Truly He has lived up to His name being His destiny. Albinism a mysterious genetic quirk passed from Mother to Child causing His hair to be a bleached bone hue whiter than the snows of Mount Kilimanjaro. In the Sun or bright Moonlight His Hair appeared nearly translucent.

Hirsute silken coiled strands covered much of his Crown, face and chest. Fleecy Tresses sprung from his scalp. Tresses that bespoke Rivers and Roads. Flowers and Leafy Greens. Visions and Dreams. Threading inward and outward. Joining together tribes North and South from East to West.


Thus he was branded by the Ancient Ones as a Mystic Eccentric. For his arrival signaled the time to sew and bind up old wounds whilst creating new gashes in the fabric of humanity. Still he missed the rich savannas of his youth. The rich soils home to grassy plains and grazing animals.


Outsiders called him Caleb The Wanderer.


To be Continued

Maelstrom Devolution ~ Realm of the Abortinates


Maelstrom Devolution – Realm of the Abortinates

The sun was soft and the boat rocked gently. It wasn’t so bad running out of fuel, until, the appearance of two fins circling our now powerless boat. Sharks. But sharks unlike ones I’d ever seen before in books, films, or aquariums. These looked like amalgamous leftovers from some prehistoric age. Fins coupled with scales and hideous appendages jutting out from every angle and portal of their bodies. Sea creatures sent from Hades to devour us. Every so often one would rear its ugly head and bear its ferocious teeth. Snap.. Snap… The jaws of death.

Fortunately or at least we thought so at the time, appeared the mast of another sailing vessel approaching us. We shouted and waved cloths to get their attention. It got closer and closer. One of their crew fired into the water scaring away the hungry sea monsters. At this point we were so frightened that we quickly responded to their offer of rescue and boarded their vessel without further hesitation.

One of the hideous primitives played out a line behind him quickly and efficiently securing our now forlorn vessel to theirs.

My fiancé and I were hungrily welcome aboard the rather ragtag vessel by a scurvy crew of men shouting orders at each other in a foreign tongue that we could not comprehend.

Still another of the monstrosities that I hesitate to call a crew member but must for lack of a better word collected what few personalities we had brought with us on what was supposed to be a romantic sail. There went our small ham radio, the stereopticon, and my black bag containing medical instruments that I used in my studies of phrenology, a small notebook containing my writings. Our ship of salvation quickly turned into a “Flying Dutchman”.

During our sojourn upon the island I was to use this notebook to record the lives and cultures of the barbarous captors. Male and female were employed upon this accursed ship but save for the pendulous breasts of the females the mutants were virtually indistinguishable one from another.

We tried to communicate with them. Trying to explain that we were Her Majesty’s citizens, subjects of the Empire but no sooner than we had begun our implorments than we were thrown into the filthy hold. An area teeming with vermin. Several other curious animals in not so sturdy cages were housed with us in this den of darkness. Every so often what we were to later find to be an equally retched enslaved servant came down to feed us and give us fresh water for drinking and bathing. Excretion and elimination was in another bucket emptied twice daily. They kept us clean and fed enough for survival but imprisoned without the benefit of sunlight or fresh air save once a week to be inspected by the hedonistic captain. Once he was satisfied that we would survive the voyage we were again rudely returned to our cruel holding place. Then after a time we were allow daily excursions onto the  deck to promenade before the crew members as we came to be considered oddities, curiosities worthy of entertainment. We who were free servants in the royal court now stood enslaved by malformed opiate dwellers.

While upon one of our daily constitutionals we gained the intelligence of what became of any manimal who died onboard. The flesh of any creature or crew member who died was not wasted but that animal was boiled, skinned and deboned becoming part of a stew partaken by all the others. Often the flesh was not cooked at all and many times we saw one disfigured boar like crew member disgorge the contents of his meal from his stomach. The regurgitation was then collected by a fellow crew member to be reused for another type of stew the contents of which looked something like the vomit regurgitations of birds and cows. Pestilence should have taken hold and reigned upon necrotic menagerie however the bodies of these mutants of science and nature proved very efficient in combating disease. Any deaths usually resulted from accidents or murders committed by unhinged temperaments.

The Beloved and I ate only the porridge, roots from the ground and limited vegetation served us daily. We abstained from the flesh.

During one of our brief stays on deck my love and I could see a small island off in the distance. Not having an expert knowledge of geography, mapping or topography we were at a total loss to determine our destination but as time passed we slowly became accustomed and acclimated to the grunts, shrieks, groans and hurls of the crews unintelligible language to hear one word repeatedly. Moreau. Yes we were headed to the former island and laboratory of the infamous Dr. Moreau……………..

Suddenly we realized that we had been captured by a race of pseudo humans. Abortions birthed before the full levels of development could be completed. The Abortinates left behind when Dr. Moreau was killed. These creatures managed to not only survive but to thrive and procreate. Having a semblance of a human mind their technology advanced to the point of allowing them to build boats and seize luckless travelers who happened into their pathway.

Over a period of time my beloved and I began to acclimate ourselves to the island and gradually deciphered the fractured tongue of these savages who held us captive. We the purveyors of culture entombed into a society of devils and demons.

Desecration of the House of Order

Unlike the refined lovemaking of my Beloved One and I, yes they did allow us conjugal time and space, these creatures coupled like the savage beasts they were the males entering the females from behind. One could hear their frantic animal sounds of lust, which to me were like the ones of defecation piercing the night air on an almost hourly basis. These deformities of nature had a predilection for giving over to the baser instincts anytime, anywhere stopping the task at hand to copulate demonically.

As we learned to speak their language we gained their confidence and one day we were whisked away to a city translated from their tongue called Maelstrom. It resembled a series of root systems into which the souls of men were sucked up and their bodies transported via journeys to destinations at various points of the underground. Each root was a bustling Metropolis unto itself. These misconceptions of the unnatural actually possessed the ability to construct a thriving city meeting the needs of the greater populace.

Revelation

It was amazing to the Beloved and I how this race of corrupted beings could achieve such levels of higher technology and skill possessing such low level deviant minds and rotted souls.

Then the answer came when one night shortly after we had been taken into their confidence we were allowed to view one of the many satanic evil ritual worship services located in what was once Dr. Moreau’s living quarters. What was once the house of order had become a foul smelling shanty subject to the febrile predilections of a race of deviants.

One night as we observed one of their phantasmagorical rituals we saw one of the secrets of their atypical advancements. During their satanic services which were held at the end of every week at approximately the midnight hour we saw them imbibe a potion an elixir of sorts made from a recipe left behind at Dr. Moreau’s abandoned laboratory located on the surface of the island.

As they made their way over to what once was or rather formerly the home and bedchambers of the Creator-god Moreau. At the start of the service the Holy Book was raised and presented to Anton the head demon that not only kissed the book but devoured a portion of it. He was joined by a profane Votary who read incantations from their vile scriptures dedicated to the black arts. Together they invoked the spirits of the underworld. “Spirits of the Underworld. All that is unholy and unworthy come forth!” As they gave utterance to the sacred passages, Anton, leader of the services smote the book and Kali the many armed one came forth.

Kali known as the “black one” consort of Shiva, wore a thin garment adorned with considerable jewelry: gold earrings, a three nose rings and three necklaces for the unholy Trinity. Her headdress had tassels that framed her forehead. She tore one of the malformed offspring from one of the beasts, decapitating it with her fangs all whilst ripping the still beating heart from its tiny breast to be partially devoured the rest placed upon the altar as a sacrifice.

Inflamed and intoxicated by perversity the beasts renewed their orgy with a renewed fervor and vigor. Pounding drums beat out a rhythm to match the melee. Without warning a full moon appeared in heretofore almost completely blackened night sky and a Goddess arose from the night mist like unto the Beautiful one.

“My name is Light and it is spelled with symbols from the Moon, Stars and sun.” As the Goddess raised her arms and as her raiment fell away florescent symbols ignited by the armada of light emanating from the night sky were revealed upon her muscular arms, upper shoulders, upper and lower back. Energy proceeded forth from each transcription radiating to her Janus sister. The Beautiful one came as bright sister to Kali to preside over and sanction the lewd rites.

Prior to the recitation of the Initiate the Beautiful rose up to give this agonized prayer. To my amazement my Beloved arose with her and together their spirits made supplication.

As the two sisters ululated their lip spoken voices died away and the symbols began to chant the words; sacred, secular, profane.

 



 

Return to the Realm of Maelstrom Deviation Cycles of Time

On dark inky blue moonless nights of wicked worship they would gather dried herbs they cultivated from the island’s rough soil place them into a type of incense burner and inhale the fumes, transporting worshippers into a trance. Once in the trance they would commence to dance. First in a line then in a circle arms linked together chanting to their unholy god. Finally the ritual would end in the drinking of the potion and they would retire back to their rude dwellings that they called homes.

At first they attempted to evangelize the Beloved One and I into their morbid séances but we declined and for whatever reason perhaps because they sensed our innate superiority allowed us to watch and pretty much left us to our own devices in the evening hours.

Sometimes late in the night after the Beloved and I had retired to our chambers we could hear rough guttural Gregorian Chants in the distance.

The Road to Hell

But this place which we referred to as The Island was not just the former dwelling place of an evil man who attempted to usurp God and nearly succeed in destroying the authentic world but it was a step into another dimension. A place that did not exist on any map made by man. Once again another realization came upon the Beloved and I. We had entered into one of the realms of the underworld. A Hades, a Hell, a living personal nightmare populated by the demons that lurked within our very minds and souls. Suddenly a veil was lifted and we found ourselves within the dark caverns of the sea. The sisters of Ishtar goddess of death and destruction, good and evil, love, war and lust had delivered us to her lower sister via the sea. Oceans of dead souls washed over us. Those dark, serpent-like many limbed sharks were just dark angels who identified potential souls for the kingdoms of darkness.

These whom we had lived with and come to know were really the spawn of the goddesses Ishtar and Lilith. Those creatures, once mortal men had loved the twin succubae had suddenly and for no reason offended them and were cruelly ejaculated from their sexual paradise; rejected by them constrained to live in an immortal plane feasting on captured souls for nourishment.