Book One Metafiction: Kaleb Thorn versus Aelvryqh Vydqelph

     "Kaleb Thorn, mad wizard, regarded the dying Leer Jagger for last words; as the religious zealot died, the crimson flame took him and his body in a moment was transformed with twinkles of sparks turned again to dust and blown away on the aetheric wind."

     " 'Come foe, my blade has yet to slake her thirst.' --"

-- "Did his language used to be spoken?"

Klare, distracted by Syil's question, looked up confused.

"What?  No, Aelvryqh's time is a prior World Age, there's little, if any, connection to Aynglysh.  Well, -- I mean, William Woodhawk has said that Immur is an analogue of Grand Breton, the actual kingdom where he is from.  The Entropic Cross is, 'the Jack Banner, but turned widdershins'."

Syil was more confused for the information.

-- "I only ask because that manner of speech is similar to that of my world; I think that there are even shared words; Lord Carthy --"

"Hey, do you want me to keep reading, or ?"

Syil smiled, but tilted her head.

-- "I'm hungry.  I had a lot of forced blood production work today; kinda' famished, fam'."

Klare screwed up her face at 'fam' and shook her head, tight lipped.

"Okay."

Syil laughed.

"What?"

-- "That story you told me about the origin of 'Okay'.  So strange, your people.  So much free time to play games."

 

Untitled

Low-Poly Book Two Scene

 

Ia! Ia! Shub-Nigurath; Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young

This became a symbol.
The holy cloven goat tree.

I would come out from my 2nd Story Submarine, night and day, and I would think of a certain someone.  This became a meditative focus, an object of prayer, a telepathic conduit, a dream symbol.

With foliage or without, this lovely survivor, twinned, and twined, was, and, -- although I'm not living there anymore -- still is that symbol which most connects me to that certain someone.

Excerpt of Book II

Darkness came early with afternoon rain. Aleks saw a structure, some outbuilding with what could had been steps to those overgrown on the nearby hill. He made his way there at increased pace, only to be confronted by a creature -- some sort of chimaera, almost of mythological depiction -- which spoke with an inhuman voice,

“Papa, how much longer? I must go! Don’t make water or you’ll be beaten. Hurry!”
The two voices came from something like a giant greyhound of sleek black napped fur with black orbs for eyes, its lolling tongue blood red and long and tapered. Its legs terminated in talons with which it tore up clumps of the tough, dense, blue-green grass. Its black orbs were almost impossible to disregard, and Aleks had to force himself awake each moment; in dazed instants, the thing closed on him with startling speed. Aleks presented his firearm, waved its muzzle in the creature’s direction; it slowed its advance, but the waves of semi-consciousness intensified.
-- “Don’t force my hand.”
The creature stepped back but loped up the grade to cut-off Aleks avenue of escape,
“Just look at what you’ve done, Tharma! That’ll never come out!”

Musings on the second book, Tarot, and daily nothings

Thursday now.

I'm likely still awake, possibly just returned from watching an episode of, Into the Badlands, with my Brother-in-Law.  He's open to finishing Andor when we're finished with this season of ItB.

The second book is heavily focused on one family, although the characters from the first book figure in the second half in a sort of asymmetrical mirror.  Some of my most heart wrenching writing, makes me cry reading it -- I'm a monster, poor imaginary people, what I'm putting them through.  Still they're made of sterner stuff, and having passed through the Black Flame has made them masters of their destiny and better humans for their ordeals.

Bought a PoD copy of a tarot deck book, but tracking-down the actual deck is proving tricky, perhaps the  Black One, Dabil Arasoya, will have one pass into my hands with enough diligent searching; after all, TANSTAaFL.       🕸

Parched: An AI Photograph