Saturday, April 30, 2011

IN THE HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING

Sometimes reality can waiver. Things can vary. And the fabric of creation may have nubbins in the weave. That's how it was for our two vampires. The bright eyed rabbits were the first to change. Sarah saw it and she nudged her mate. She pointed. He saw too. The rabbit had tiny, human hands. It sat at the side of the well worn trail and it waved to them. Jonathon automatically waved back. Sarah just nodded. The guide, this time a gnarled, old man, cackled like a dried up brujo (wizard/warlock). But no one stopped, as wind-blown tendrils of shredded clouds tickled a cheesy moon. And the crickets chirping in the brush all sang the same sad tune. An airplane hummed its way across the ridgeline in the distance. Though that's not what it was. Those closer saw a noble mount, a dragon fly writ large, upon which sat an elf-eared vampirina hurrying off on some enchanted business. Jonathon said - Where are we? What has happened to the trail?......Why nothing - croaked the crepe-skinned man - The trail is quite the same. T'is merely your weak grasp on things, which lately has grown lame.......And then he began to skip and caper about like a sylvan faun. After a breath or two, that's what he was. One blink and he is gone. Now let me (Johannan) take a moment here to explain what is at hand. And how these changes in the pitch effect the nearby land. Everything we see and touch is made of tiny points. Yet where each rubs against the next depends how God annoints each tiny orb with Heaven's light ('lectricity to you) for each, small variation paints  the universe anew............And for those self-limiting nabobs with an aversion to poetry, let me say this...Hey, you saw The Matrix didn't you? Well, it's a little bit like that. The universe repeats, except the notes of music dance their own  tune on the sheets. So that's it. Why? Because the Mountain King asked his friend, Saint Michael the Archangel. And that stalwart celestial general made petition to the Saphire Throne . The request was granted.  The Mountain King relaxed, safe in a crag upon the heights with secrets all its own.  You won't find it. Go and try forever and a day. Unless you get an invite and the King calls you that way.....And what happened then?....A huge dense cloud of night flies settled on our blood-kissed two, each nipping off some flesh or bone until their 'form' was through. Then off they flew, upon the wind . And streamed in through a crack. Each spitting out a drop of  gore until our vamps were back....Their legs were weak. Their hearts beat fast. Their tongues no longer spoke.The Mountain King just roared and laughed. He loved this sickening joke. He thanked the flies, his 'Scotties,' for the 'beaming up' they did. Then sent them crowding through a hole into the place they hid.....Who comes here!? - growled the 'diety' upon his rough hewn seat, as Jonathon stepped forward on his still quite shaky feet. While other members of the court leaned forward and looked down.  His Sarah wished she'd brought from home some 'dressy' type of gown........That's it. They're here. It all starts now. The mysteries they'll know. But come back again tomorrow night (Johannan wants it so). For I have other dreams to dream. And other brows to kiss. While some of you, I am quite sure, must need to take a piss.............

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