Wednesday, June 19, 2013

THE ANCIENT ABIDING PRESENCE known as RENATE tells us more... 6/19/13

I am not knowing why I even communicate with you. Many have seen me pass through this nuanced account. But I never trade words carelessly. Those who devour what comes forth from these magic triptychs care not for the truth. They tingle for copulatory acts, blood drenched dismemberment and cents-off coupons. 

Renate knows. She can hear the worms of ignorance feast on your brains. Well... not all. Renate recognizes the vibrations of certain spirits. Those friends in the Tin Isles and various large population centers scattered about the land mass called North Americky, plus the duskward edge of what you call 'The Old World.' 

Forty thousand years of consciousness. I saw the ice sheets melt and witnessed other facets of humanity, or near humanity, waste away and die. Scraps still remain... but only scraps. 

And I have no recollection of my own transformation. I can't even tell you who did it..... A feeding.... I saw a feeding.... Wandering 'vampires' perhaps two or three, devoured a human play thing... a mutilated one. The creature had no legs and no arms. It's crotch parts were excised as if by sharpened ice-cream scooper. And  protruding facial appendages.... nose... lips... ears... were missing too.  That is how we dealt with strangers, for no good came from the unknown.... In a sense, each small band was it's own 'humanity.' All others were but thieves.

Do you know when living spirits are thrown into volcanoes they do not scream. The shock is too great, as red hot, viscous rock envelopes every part of their being. And even when they slip beneath the surface life remains. A brain is a wonderful thing and takes so long to die.

Why do I tell you this? No, really, why? I am hoping there are brain-readers among you.... 'head shrinkers' I think you call them. For I do not know. 

But until the others, the ones you know best, regain their voices I will tell you things.....

What it is like to glide through the clouds as monstrous waves crush people like chalk, or to walk across the surface of the sun....

My spirit has done many things..... And I have eaten many souls.

Right now I sit beneath the sea, down in the blackest depths, watching crab-things play amidst thermal vents. 'Devil's Chimneys' I call them... calliope reeds from hell.

I close my eyes and taste their sulfurous breath.
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