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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

 

Full Album -- Dolina kralja Viktora by Zagušljivi dim (updated)

*Weird[ly lovely], but there are some really beautiful guitar bits in here, but later on in the album. Can make for a pleasantly odd experience; like listening in on an alien- or parallel universe's radio or TV station.
Weird* is the word for the first half, [exciting] guitar is the second half.