One Last Tale

I swore never to tell another tale…. Never again were the words that echoed through my mind when I was left alone with nothing but despair to accompany my thoughts.

I now stood looking at the tree, its twisted trunk peeled open like a malevolent toothless grin. At this moment I thought, to remain silent, to emulate nature’s unwillingness to divulge its secrets would only serve to make her more victorious. There in the shadows where I had come to question everything, I came to my first decision in many months…. This must be my last tale to tell….

*****

The boy was beautiful, a living snapshot of my past self. His curiosity and passion for life made those who observed him believe that this spritely young boy flitted about the world on enchanted wings made with feathers of wanderlust, held together by a wax composed of mirth and merriment. In all of my life he was my greatest achievement, my beautiful son.

 “He looks just like you,” my wife would say, with a smile on her lips and love in her eyes… I could see she would have it no other way, and if she had… there was no denying it, the boy was a miniature copy of myself.

******

I was a writer, and in my son I sought to foster the same imagination that had always been a part of me. I had grown up with my head buried in books full of fairytales, magic and mythos, and through them I gained a since of wonder for the world. I then, and still now, don’t see the world around me in absolutes, I saw existence as a mystery, and it had been my desire to solve this mystery that had fueled my mind, body and my life. I only wanted to offer my son the same opportunity, an opportunity to see that the world is full of unanswered questions.

******

He plucked the dandelion puff from the grass in which we sat, holding it up to his little lips he blew, dispersing the little feather like seeds in the wind…

“You know some fairies ride those from place to place.” I said smiling at my son, he now eyed the remaining seeds on the dandelion, trying to spot any of the tiny fairies clinging to the miniature parachutes.

“But I thought fairies had wings?” He said dropping the flower from inspection….

“Most of them do, but not until they are old enough; and some people say if fairies are bad they are punished by having their wings removed.”

“You really shouldn’t fill his head with that stuff.” My wife whispered to me, while we both watched him gathering flowers from the field, inspecting each for signs of spritely beings.

“It is good for him to wonder at the world.” I said looking into her eyes….

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! I don’t see any.” He said walking back to us…. I smiled as I turned to the discouraged young one…

“Don’t be upset,” I said lifting him into my lap, “Just because we can’t see or find something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” He looked at me with is dark brown eyes….

“Do you really believe they are real  .” I thought about it, looking at my wife whose smile made her glitter in the sunlight.

“I don’t know, and that is why I am always searching.” He gazed back down at the flowers in his hand with a renewed interest.

*****

Such days are dammed to be more vivid than any spells of happiness, perhaps because such days will always play through the mind with every detail, possibly because of your painstaking search for where and what you should have done differently.

I remember hearing her screaming his name out back… dinner was ready and he wasn’t responding to his mother’s call.

“Have you seen Clay?” She said peaking in from the back porch, I looked up from my laptop and removed my reading glasses, trying to think the last time I had seen him…

“I am sure he is somewhere out in the woods… you know how he is.” She frowned and turned back to yell his name. I arose and went up stairs, doing so more for thinking than looking. Clay was always quick to respond when he was beckoned, and his current absence was beginning to get me worried.

I listened again as his mother screamed, her tone becoming more stressed and worried, it was then that I thought or remembered, what at the time was a passing thought; a slight foreboding I felt on our last walk through the woods on our property. Clay and I had walked into a dell… how that tree had fascinated him…. “Do you think gnomes could live in there dad?”
Why such childish question seemed so unsettling had not made sense at the moment; but now with the absence of my son, the full depressing portent of that occurrence returned.

I said nothing to my wife, I bolted out the door running as quickly as I could, yelling his name, hoping… hoping that his little figure would break out of the shadowy woods and come to meet me…

I ran to the edge of the dell and slid down into the grove of cotton woods. The air seemed dense, silent, palpable within the hollow. I eyed the aged cotton wood nervously as I approached its trunk, looking into the dark hole, an ancient wound in the trees side that loomed four feet off the forest floor. The cavern peered blankly at me…. “CLAY!” But there was no sound, only the soft stirring of branches above.

Putting my hand on the side of the gnarled trunk, I peered into the entrance of the hollow tree… but it was too dark to see, or yet, it was too dark for me to assure my darkest fear…

I lowered my arm down into the hole; touching something separate from the dampness I grabbed and pulled. Unsure of what I wanted to find within, before I could think fully, my hand came from the trunk gripping the legs of a small child…. All was blank, my mind momentarily lapsed in unconscious action.

I sat on the forest floor, stooped over the body of my child. Looking into his face I tried to trace away the mud and water that had formed the bottom of his prison. I stopped, because the more I freed his face of grime, the more lifeless he appeared.

I looked back at the tree, its countenance remained unchanged, its bark still pealed back leeringly, hinting at the trap it held within….

*****

Here now, I look at the tree, only one of us had changed, only one of us seems to bear the weight or understand what we have done.

How long did my son struggle to hold himself above the soiled waters you shelter within? And what did my son think within your darkness? Did he wonder why I had filled his head with such hope, only to have it lead him to such despair? Did he ask why his father led him believe in such beauty when he was doomed to such a lurid end?

I wept… wondering what had been my purpose, wondering if I had done things different… would the ends be as well?  Is there some other existence where I still have my lovely boy; and his mother, my beautiful muse… does she still love me somewhere besides my dreams.

With tear filled eyes I looked at the tree, yawning as it always did, insentient and unyielding. If the heavens cared they would weep as I do… But they didn’t, they left me alone with my thoughts, wondering if there was any reason to think anymore….

 

Astro Barons

Astro Barons

By Ronin Steez

This month witnessed the uncovering of the capitalist machine’s next move; without loosening its firm death grip upon earth, it now aims to reach its greedy claws into the unexplored frontier of space. They must be joking I thought, do they have no sense of decency? Does the search for profit and gain know no bounds? Will the capitalist machine not rest until it has turned the milky-way into a desolate waste land of Oil Wells and Strip Malls…. It appears not my friends, unfortunately there is no end in sight to greed, and the capitalist push into outer-space makes this certain.

The evil company that masks its malevolent intentions with the title Planetary Resources, unveiled its plans to utilize space travel in an effort to “harvest” Asteroids for valuable resources. You may be asking yourself- “what valuable resources could reside in space?” The answer is all too familiar- ice (that can be harvested for oxygen and hydrogen), and valuable metals like platinum, silver, iron, and gold.

Yes my friends, it appears history is doomed to repeat itself; now that capitalism has ripped earth apart and harvested all that it can from the bosom that gave us all life, it now turns its insentient eyes to the stars…. All in the name of profit, all for the glitter of gold… the same substance that led Europeans to supplant the Native Americans will now lead fat-cats to plague the rest of our solar system with the stench of unchecked industry; no doubt with the same ruthless disregard for nature or for any other life forms that first called the newly conquered rock home.

Such an undertaking seems so diabolical that most would assume it to be the brain child of Dr. Evil, Voldemort, or George W. Bush; but alas, the crusaders of capitalism, tinker and toil under less conspicuous titles; so who are these men? – Google’s Larry Page and Eric Schmidt, Film Maker James Cameron, and Microsoft’s former Chief Software Architect Charles Simonyi, just to name a few. One wonders if these men are capable of feeling or remorse, one wonders if they could have seen the breathtaking, ground-breaking, tear jerking, potently allegorical and now frighteningly sagacious Avatar.

I would venture to say that none of these capitalist pigs has the time to watch movies; nay most of them are too worried about monetary profit to care about profiting from the lessons that may be gleaned from an artistic masterpiece such as Avatar.

Unfortunately the Bourgeoisie’s loss is doomed to bring devastation to the proletariat. As one saw in the classic Avatar- capitalism care’s for nothing but profit; the machine does not care who or what is destroyed as long as it brings profit. Avatar showed what happened once capitalism had broken free from the bonds of earth and very soon we will see it in our own solar system.

Of course Planetary Resources and their pals Republicans will play the same old withered and blood spattered card- “Think of the jobs this could create,” “Think of the wealth uncovered,” “Think of the doors that could be opened once we tap these untapped resources.”  I hope my fellow malcontents won’t fall for this tired tommyrot… I hope you will think about the unopened doors, and I hope you will come to the same conclusion that I did. As the sage behind the masterpiece Avatar (I can’t recall the creator or director) so eloquently, cleverly, and vividly pointed out, the unharnessed greed of capitalism is a necrotic cancer that covers its wake of senseless death and destruction with gold, silver, and promises of trickle down profits and advances in technology- I ask you when is the last time you actually saw any of these promises pan out.

I may be dense but I was not dense enough to miss the symbolism entwined within Avatar- When these “Astronaut Barons” speak of opening new doors in industry, opportunity, or technology, know this… As the oracular and original Avatar foretold, the only door that Planetary Resources will succeed in opening, is something akin to Pandora’s Box.

Some may call me a naysayer, a speed bump to progress, a premature whistle-blower; but I say only this… think about it. Think about the dangers presented to our solar system when we start toying with other objects that make it up. What consequences would be realized when drilling on asteroids? Besides the most obvious- defacing the natural undisturbed habitat, stealing the natural resources from under any organisms present- but there are less obvious and more terrifying possibilities. What if, during the process of harvesting an asteroid, it is somehow knocked off its orbit and set on a course towards earth? Again… the capitalist fat cats, in their multi-billion dollar spaceships made of stolen platinum and gold won’t care when one of their pillaged asteroids is discarded directly into earth; only the proletariat will suffer the consequences of capitalism’s careless grab for profit and power.

There are far more dire possibilities evident in Planetary Resources’ future undertaking. I shudder to think about the impending apocalypse that would result if they found Oil in Outer-Space. Again, you know how terrifying and destructive oil spills are on earth… Imagine an Oil Spill at zero gravity; or imagine an oil spill on the ozone layer… there is no doubt that an oil spill in the upper atmosphere would have horrible consequences that we can’t fathom- global warming followed by a nuclear winter, tar ball hail storms, and acid rain mixed with oil… these are just a few of the possibilities that we have discovered using math and science.

Humanities crowning achievement Avatar foretold a future that fell all too soon; and if something is not done to check the ambitions of these evil men, the fate, not only of humans, but possibly Martians hangs upon a thread. I propose that Obama move to turn Kuiper Belt into a national park, protecting all of the asteroids from the designs of capitalism and preserving the natural beauty of space. If this works, I then suggest we do the same to all the satellites that surround our sun; for it seems that if the government does not protect these things, they are doomed for destruction by greedy individuals. Now that capitalism has broken the laws of physics, and now that they are relieved of the fetters of the gravity that has up till now succeeded in containing them on earth, it is up to the laws of men to thwart capitalism’s progress.

Impressionism

There she was, the light dancing off her waitress attire. She had a way of transforming her uniform, turning the suggestive rags into something sophisticated and blithe; perhaps it was the curves of her body that showed beneath the baggy sophomoric trucker shirt, pulled taught and knotted at the small of her back; or perhaps it was the look of her eyes when she smiled, an ethereal essence which seemed to transcend all the bonds of her status and position.

“Are you going to go talk to her today?” The young man said to his friend who looked dreamily across the restaurant.

“Huh?” He shook his head slightly as he was pulled from his thoughts of her.

“You heard me.”

The young man acted like he had not heard. He looked back at his glass, pulling it back and forth through the rings of water that had pooled at its base.

“I have an idea I am turning over.”He said turning up his eyes with a smirk.

“What is it?”
“You will see,” he said getting quiet- “Here she comes.”

They both smiled as she approached, their smiles seeming to bow to a superior.

“How you boys doin today, are you goin to have the usual?”

They paused awkwardly, one waiting on the other’s action….

The young man who was being gazed at by both the waitress and his friend cleared his throat and picked up his menu- “Yes please, the usual.”

The man across the table eyed the other with disappointment…. “Uh, I guess I will have usual, too…”

The waitress chuckled and said with an appealing southern ring- “Thank yall, we will have it right out.”

She seemed to hold her eyes on the young man as she turned to leave, as if she too expected something different today.

“I will do it when we get the check… trust me….” He turned his attention back to his glass, giving his friend no choice but to join him in a silent luncheon.

*****

“Here is the check, yall need anything else?” Again both sets of eyes seemed to fall on the young man, as if destiny had marked him for something special. The young man cleared his throat and set up straighter, a slight smile broadened his lips as he looked into the beautiful waitresses eyes…

“Actually madam, there is something that I have been wanting to ask you, but I felt that it may break the bonds of propriety, or perhaps have the unintended effect of giving you offence.”

The young lady smiled and chuckled a bit, she shifted her position slightly as the young man continued.

“But I feel I must take the risk, for it is but a minor inconvenience to an inconceivably glorious reward….”

“Have you madam, ever been, or considered being a model?”

The girl laughed and took up the check- her smile was radiant, almost making her words inaudible- “You are funny…. I knew you weren’t from around here, but I had no idea till now how far away you came from.” She laughed again, and turned to leave.

“Madam, I am serious… I am actually a painter…” She turned back to look at him, trying to conceal her interest, as the man continued.

“I have been looking for a subject since I came to town, and I can’t seem to get over the idea of you.” The woman blushed slightly,

“I don’t mean to be so forward and I know it is random question, just keep it in mind and next time I will bring some of my pieces for you to see.” He said as they were getting up to leave.

“Just keep it in mind, I will see you sometime next week.” The young woman paused as they passed, thinking of something to say, she looked down at the money on the ticket…. She had to shout out louder than she intended as they opened the door to leave.

“OH… Did you need change, Mr?”

The young man smiled, “No mam… and it’s Ambrose, Miss?”

“Lydia!” She said over the tables as she arranged the checks and money.
“See you soon then Lydia.” She smiled and turned to another table, as he departed with an increased fervor in his step.

The two walked side by side back to the car, one smiling wistfully, the other smirking questioningly.

“So what now genius?”

The young man turned his head unperturbed by the interruption to his euphoria- “I guess I need to learn to paint.”

*****

“You really think you can pull this off?” The slightly taller man said to the other who was busy filling his arms with How to books and painting supplies.

“I have always wanted to paint… Now I have a reason.” He smiled….the other marked it as a smile that was worthy of similar company.

“You know Ambrose, asking her out would have been much simpler.” He said as he thumbed through some prints, picking up a few Matise nudes…. “Here, I will contribute…. I think you could pull something like this off.”

“I like it… I will just tell her that I prefer to express myself in abstract.”

His friend laughed…. “That you do…”

*****

The young man worked feverishly every night, trying to create something believable, something that could pass for art. By the middle of the week he felt no closer, and he was on the verge of giving up his foray into the arts… As he threw another polluted canvas aside with disdain he heard a knock at the door…

“Heyo, buddy…. How goes it my little Monet?”

“Ahhh, I am done man… I was not blessed with any semblance of artistic ability.”

His friend kicked around some crumbled sketches, and a few unfinished portraits… He whistled slightly…

“Ambrose…. I am not kidding, I think you have something that can be salvaged…. What I think you are missing is a proper model…”

Ambrose looked at his friend with an incredulous smile. He watched him go to the kitchen and grab a chair… “You have got to be joking…”

“No…. I am willing and more than able to be a model.” He took a seat in front of the easel and struck a pose that seemed to be an inspired by an amalgam of greek tragedy and comedy. Ambrose laughed, waiting for the joke to subside…

“What are you waiting for… Paint damn you…. Paint… and don’t be afraid if you are slightly aroused by my manly mystique…”

“You are unbelievable…”

“I don’t have all day Ambrose… get to it, I have always wanted a self portrait and this is the best way to get one done for free.”

Ambrose picked up his pencil and started sketching. He brushed across the paper, at first carelessly, but  as the lines took form, he became more intent on their purpose. Suddenly, without thought, he worked…

****

The recent model stood peering over his friend’s shoulder as he put a few final touches of paint on the finished product.

His friend laughed a bit as Ambrose eyed his work with satisfaction…. “What?”

“No…. Ambrose…. In all seriousness…. It is good… I mean…. If you told me you went to school on an art scholarship I would call you a liar…. But if you told me that you just started this week…. I wouldn’t believe you either….”

Ambrose turned and smiled at his friend, who looked admiringly at the semblance of himself upon canvas…. “I never thought I would say this… but I think your little plan could work…”

Ambrose laughed as he picked up the canvas and laid it on his table…. “What do you say we go to lunch tomorrow.”
His friend smiled and nodded… “The Usual?”

“The Usual…”

Ambrose foot bounced underneath the booth like a spring set to keep some odd unearthly time; as if it counted the seconds on some unknown heavenly body that turned at a rate twice that of earth’s .

“Why do I feel like you are going to back out on this.”

Ambrose smiled at his friend and started to reply…. But the approach of that which he desired changed all of this.

“Hey yall…” Ambrose noticed a slightly different bearing in her step and slightly different tone in her common greeting…

“Ambrose? Right…” She said looking at the young man who bore both the title and her gaze willingly and well.

“Yes, and it’s Lydia, if I remember correctly…”
“That’s right…” Her eyes batted slightly, and either by a trick of light or the hopeful perception of an admirer she seemed to blush slightly.

Noticing the growing silence that takes root within unsure expectations, Ambrose changed the subject… “And this is my good friend Will…” Will reached out his hand… “My best friend and the inspiration for some of my best work…”

“It is pleasure to meet you…” Her smile showed good natured amusement while they shook.

She raised the note pad as if she was unsure what else to do, and turned to Ambrose…. “So is it going to be the usual or are you two going to continue to surprise me.”

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Will… “The usual for me…” She turned with a smile and nodded… “I am not sure about Ambrose though…” She turned

“And for you…” He smiled and blushed, his heart beating as if it stood upon a precipice.

“Uh…. Well, I will have the usual… but I would also like to know if you have considered our previous conversation?”

Her smile deepened along with the color of her face… “I am busy now…”

Ambrose interrupted…. “Well of course, but what I wanted  to ask is if you would at least be willing to look at some of my work after your shift.”
“I…”
“It would only take a minute…”
She smiled and while turning to leave she said somewhat reluctantly… “I leave at 10:00, and I won’t wait for you.”

She left them, one sitting in silent exaltation, the other smiling in disbelief. This state held throughout the remainder of their lunch… Lydia served them quietly, nonchalantly. Ambrose appeared to be far away, reveling on some far off pleasant philosophy, while Will eyed him with good natured amusement. As they left, Ambrose yelled out to the preoccupied Lydia- “I will wait out front… see you at ten.” She turned in the same nonchalant manner and nodded; only her warm smile betrayed her consent.

*****

He waited out front with the paintings he was most confident in; but he felt like he was singing in his car with open windows, and each time a group walked by, he covered his work as much as possible, like a singer lowers his voice to a passing car. As the hour approached he became even more diffident; and when the hour struck ten he debated bolting the scene all together. The door opened again and he mechanically hid his work to the sound. His tight tense body seemed to slacken as Lydia turned in front of him…. Maybe she won’t see me…. he thought.  She stopped before him, looking at him through her smile while he felt that he groveled beneath her in a cave of cowardice… “Well?” she said with a laugh… “Is that it?”

“Well it’s…” Ambrose stood putting himself between her and the canvas…  As she came into the light of the lamp above her glowing beauty seemed to increase the rate at which his painting withered to nothingness.

“Let me see…” She reached with a good natured laugh,

“It is hard to let somebody view your work for the first time.” She continued to work at sliding a piece of work from behind him while Ambrose stammered…

“Ha,” she succeeded in sliding one of the prints from behind and she spun quickly around into the light while Ambrose continued to babble about the difficulties of his supposed profession.

He froze watching her look at what he wished she had never seen, a dark rendering  of a tree which he had pulled from some abstract corner of his mind. He remembered how he had smothered the canvass with paint in an effort to give it texture and character, but he had no idea if it constituted art…. He waited without breathing, wondering how she was receiving it, searching each corner of her face for some sign of her thoughts.

“It’s so dark….” She said looking at him. He looked around nodding- “Yes, well this is definitely not the right light to see my art in…”
She laughed… “No, the tree… the painting…. It’s so sad.” She looked at him, her eyes carrying part of the sadness from the canvas.

“I didn’t mean it to be that way, I guess it just came out that way…” She looked at it again, not taking it away from her eyes while she spoke- “How about a painting that doesn’t make me feel so cold.”

Ambrose rustled through the several paintings as he thought about how interesting her choice of words seemed… “I think you will recognize this.” He handed her the painting…

She laughed a bit as the light poured over the canvas beneath her searching eyes and smile.

“What?” Said Ambrose with a touch of fear in his tone.

“No, no, it’s Will’s pose… I can tell it’s him… but I can’t decide if he is flexing or thinking.” She laughed again…

“You don’t like it do you?”

She turned to look at Ambrose with a wide smile… “I love it… I just really didn’t think you were serious, I really thought you were making the whole thing up.”

Ambrose smiled and looked at the ground, somewhere in limbo between the heaven of her praise and the hell of his guile. Pushing his thoughts beneath the euphoria of the moment, he raised his gaze to hers. “So does that mean you will let me paint you.”

She smiled and rocked a bit as she looked back down at the canvas, biting her lip a bit before she spoke.

“Well first things first… how much will you pay me, and how much more if I model naked,” her look had twisted into a serious business-like countenance.

Ambrose felt the air leave him; for he had not expected such forwardness from what he had believed to be a shy creature. He stammered for words… “I… well?”

His eyes had fallen from hers in thought, as they raised back up they felt comfort of her now familiar smile.

“I was joking….” Her laugh cut the tension that had built within Ambrose, and he released it by joining her.

“You’re clever as well.”

“I try…”
“So is that a yes, or….”
She looked at Ambrose again, deep in thought… “Well there is no way you are painting me naked.”
“No, Lydia, that was not the idea, I promise….” She broke in,
“I would just like to get to know you a little more before I do something like this.”
Ambrose eyes seemed to swim… “Well would you like to do dinner?”

She smiled as she thought it over and Ambrose continued- “If you are free tomorrow…. I would be happy to take to this nice little place along the water… they have the best reuben sandwich  I have ever had.”
She eyed him with suspicion- “Are you honestly talking about taking me out to the restaurant I work at.”

Ambrose smiled- “That was my joke.” She laughed a bit…. “Sorry I had to get you back,” She smiled…

“No, I am just glad you weren’t serious. “
They looked at each other again as the scene sank into silence… “So is that a yes?”
“Give me a call tomorrow, I am off work, so don’t expect me to come back here on my day off.”

They exchanged numbers and parted ways somewhat awkwardly, as if they both wanted to continue talking but felt obliged to part, there parting words seemed only to open more avenues for continuing conversation and their movements to depart only seemed to make them more willing stay.

Ambrose found himself home barely able to remember how he had come there. Lying in bed he continued to turn over the events of the night and dreams of tomorrow, the light rising in the east interrupted his thoughts and turned his attention to sleep.

*****

One dinner led to another and they both passed smoothly and easily. Lydia and Ambrose were beginning to seem like threads meant for a common line. Their conversations where those that began in commonality and spun haphazardly out of that realm; they were the type of conversation that finds you looking back and realizing that you had discussed absolutely nothing of importance, but within that pointless banter you had found what you had always looked for- somebody’s thoughts that moved in unison with your own; when he talked to her he felt like a bird flying in formation, his movements of mind never straying too for or close to her own, moving safely and separately to a common goal.

Here they sat on their third dinner, things going as smoothly as before. A random branch of conversation ended bearing the fruit of shared laughter. The returned silence lead Lydia to introduce another topic.

“So…. How is your painting going, you don’t talk about it much?”

Ambrose took a sip of his water to buy some time for thought.

“Well as you know, sales is my true profession and painting is my passion… so, lately it seems my profession has stripped me of time for my passion.”
Lydia smile seemed to change its angle slightly.

“Do you still want to paint me?”

“I would love nothing more…. I mean, when we get the time.”

Her smile again seemed to dance such pageantry, hovering between malevolent and angelic, a combination of guile and truth that struck such allure as to leave those who beheld unable to decipher the thoughts of the one who wore it.

Her voice finally betrayed her thoughts- “What about tonight?”

Ambrose hand shot into the air without answering he shouted as politely as possible-

“SIR…. CHECK PLEASE.”

*****

There she sat reclined on a small couch in his living room, gazing at him from behind the canvas, confidently still, conforming to the curves of the couch like a stream to a brook, making a relaxing scene ever more intoxicating.

“You are far more  professional than Will.”
She laughed, not moving the pose that she held with the utmost confidence.

“How long do I need to hold this?” She asked as Ambrose turned his hand to canvas.

“I can’t say.” Was the artist’s terse reply… but his thoughts were far more various and deep. And as she lay there so sheepishly seductive that she seemed to divert every desire towards her without knowing, Ambrose mind fought separate desires- to join the woman who seemed to beckon him to her side and to capture the woman’s essence on canvas, hopefully giving permanence and justice to such a beautiful moment.

As his mind worked and his hands labored, her lips and eyes seemed to beckon him more. His desire to be precise and true were flanked by longing to be finished. God why can’t it just be done… he thought as he meticulously traced the lines of her eyes; but he worked slowly, for at the moment his desire to capture the image was more potent than to join it.

She stirred slightly as he painted feverishly…. How long have I been painting so quietly, my mind at war with separate desires…. Just then, the thought of time brought to mind one of his favorite short stories… The Portrait by Poe- Was not the point of the story that man should not obsess over immortalizing something, he should instead seize it and love it while it exist…. His hand tarried for but a moment, and then continued on slightly quicker than before…. “Almost done…” you can come look if you want.” His mind had finally realized the futility of satisfying his desire to capture the essence of this woman… he had not the skill or time.

She walked behind him and put her hands on his shoulders as he made a few final brush strokes… he listened to her silence…. And waited…

All he heard was her breath as they both looked silently at the canvas. He turned his gaze from what he had created to what had inspired it all. Her eyes that had been locked on the painting now locked onto his, she was surprised to see them full of shame- “I am no painter…” He looked down shaking his head, to ashamed to look her in the eyes. “I only started a few months ago to impress you…. And now I want nothing more than to paint you right, but I know I don’t deserve to…” Slowly he looked back up, too disappointed to ponder on what to expect.
Her smile stopped him further and her eyes told him to think no more as they fell into each other’s embrace.

*****

Still to this day in the house of a happy couple a painting rest on the wall. If one were to ask its owner and creator about it, he always responds the same- “That is my first of many attempts to capture the beauty of my muse… it always reminds me, just how thin the threads of chance are, yet how important they are to finding true happiness.”

 

I Feel Like Blog

If her image would only leave me be,

Then my mind would be free to see,

All the things that truly be.

Oh but it’s the agony of obsession

That pulls me to depression.

I have been robbed of every sense but one,

For to look at her is to look at the sun. 

Hunter’s Thoughts

“She’s a Beauty!” He said as she lay in the sand,

Her blood and breath drawn by my hand.

Eyes so dark that they seemed to speak

Of those mysteries that we are doomed to seek.

I couldn’t rip my gaze from her,

As he traced his hand over blood soused fur.

God… how he now seemed to me,

To consist of everything that shouldn’t be.

This imp that had forced my hand,

Goaded me into spilling blood on the sand.

He hovered over my kill with a victorious face,

God how I wished I could switch their place.

“You will always remember your first kill.”

How I wished to make him silent and still,

Like a fly flitting across a field of snow,

A necrotic stain where only flowers should grow.

There I was, the handmaiden of death,

Watching my kill take its last breath.

Last words of winter.

Whispering above before taking there toll,

Like draperies of a malevolent soul.

Misty fingers drop slowly from the dark ceiling,

Lowering from the heavens to touch without feeling.

These spidery spines composed of frozen dust,

Caress the spring, turning white blooms to rust.

It’s natural for nature to be so beautiful and cruel,

Lifting and dashing the dreams of a romantic fool.

The Epic of Flutour: Part III

Like all things glory is finite, and it faded beneath Flutour’s thoughts of the future. He was still banished from his village and even though they promised that he would be allowed to return after completing his allotted tasks, he was certain that it would not be so simple. With few words Flutour and Flutiera set forth on their journey home.

As Flutour and Flutiera made their way with determined and purposeful step, Flutour nervously rambled on about his philosophy on politics and on his plan to set things right in his village.

“You see Flutiera, the Syntheons are an interesting lot. They laud themselves for the their beautiful culture and describe themselves as the an excepting tribe; however they treated me as outcast for my choice of instrument, and they banished me for protecting myself against an aggressor.” Flutiera listened with interest.
“The Syntheons are a beautiful house made of rotten timbers; everything about them is made quickly and easily, it all appears magnificent on the outside, but the inside is weak beneath the façade. Their music, is all composed of the same beat, and a machine built by Melatron plays arrangements of mechanical sounds- it sounds beautiful at times, but there is nothing beneath it, it is shallow as the minds of the villagers.” Flutour fell into pensive silence as he pondered the problems of his village and as the longer he thought the more he slipped into despair.

As Flutour walked on in sadness, he became so overcome by despair that he no longer watched his steps or heard Flutiera’s warning. Blinded by despair, Flutour fell into the “Mire of Melancholy,” (Not to be confused with the slough of despond).

Flutour wailed his arms in the air as he tried to keep both his head and his flute above water. Flutour began to weep as he slipped deeper into the waters of melancholy and closer to death.

Flutiera cried out to him before he slipped beneath the murky waters-” Take heart Flutour, for if you pull yourself from this Mire of Melancholy, I will let you touch my breasts.”

Flutour was immediately torn away from the grasp of despair and within moments he had pulled himself free from the Mire of Melancholy.

“Flutiera, those are truly remarkable breasts. I could write a symphony about them, I could write tomes of poetry about your breasts and still never do them justice, I could…… I could……”

Flutours thoughts were lost in musings over Flutiera’s breasts, he was over come with euphoria, and even after Flutiera had removed her breasts from Flutours grasp, his mind still drifted upon thoughts of them.

Without warning Flutour pulled his flute to his mouth, and before unleashing his wonderful music upon the world he exclaimed- “Behold Flutiera- a Symphony Inspired by your wonderful Breasts- I call it Breasts of Divinity in E Minor.” He then began to jam as he had never jammed before. If a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a hurricane on the other side of the earth, this flute solo created another universe in a parallel dimension.

Oh he Jammed…..

He had jammed harder than this world had ever seen; he had rent space and time apart and then sutured them back together. (That is what you just witnessed).

After the epic flautist jam, Flutour and Flutiera continued on their journey with renewed vigor; but unbeknownst to them, such jamming does not go without consequence. In fact, many beings from other universes were upset by such a display of power and skill. Two Flute Deities awoke from a long slumber, and vowed to destroy the person who had decided to break the rules of musical form with such a gross display of raw human talent.

Feeling that something was wrong Flutour stopped Flutiera- “My Flute Sense is Tingling Flutiera… and this time it is not your Epic Bosoms.”

 

 

There was a crack of smoke and fire and the Deities returned in all of their formal glory.

“How was that for an entrance Flutour…. You are not the only flautist who can Jam like its 1999 B.C.”

“Behold us Flutour, the most renown flautists who have ever lived, the Deities of Flute who will play a Duet in the Coda of your life.”

Flutour gasped, even though their entrance was not even close to being as epic as Flutour’s masterpiece Breasts of Divinity in E Minor.

“My sweet Flute- If it’s not Kokopelli and Pan- the most well known has-beens of the flute circuit.” Flutour and Flutiera began to laugh, which incensed the deities even more- Kokopelli burst out angrily.

“Bite you insolent tongue Flutour; and know this- before you are made dead by the deadly dissonance of my Flute- I will make you watch Pan do unspeakable things to your beloved Flutiera.”

Pan began to make awkward hip thrusting motions with his satanic satyr legs- but stopped when Flutour issued a boisterous yell.

“Enough…. I will banish you to the depths of hell for even speaking Flutiera’s name. Take cover Flutiera, its about to get loud.”

‘

Where once stood the great Gods of the flute, now only puddles of blood remained. Flutiera danced in joy as Flutour sat at ease;

“Flutour, that was incredible, your powers of Flutillery have surpassed all others, nothing now remains to make you the God of Flutist.

“I desire only Peace, Freedom, arable land, and your wondrous bosoms; I would only be a God if you desire it.”

“I desire only to be at your side Flutour, for you will always be my Flute God.”

 

The journey continued on for days with nothing of real note taking place- that is until they came to the bridge of Addrall, the nearest crossing into the land of the Syntheons. Flutour explained to Flutiera as they approached.

“The Bridge of Addrall will be the quickest and safest route into the land of the Syntheons; however, it is owned by the incredibly vexing Trulldwarf the Dwarf.”

“Does he charge an excessively steep toll?” Asked Flutiera

“If only it were so….” Replied Flutour, “Alas, he forces those who wish to cross to answer one of the many riddles that he spends all day creating.”

Flutour slammed his right fist into his left. “What is it Flutour?” Asked Flutiera.

“Damn that son of female dog if he didn’t stump me last time with his confounded riddle; damn that crafty persistent bugger.”

There conversation ended as they came to the bridge and were hailed by its owner.

 

 

“Hold on there yall. You aint passin till you answer me a riddle.”

Flutour felt Flutiera’s confused gaze upon him and turned to enquire into its reasoning.

“He has a strange accent Flutour it doesn’t seem to fit a Dwarf. By the way aren’t Dwarfs mountain dwelling folk and aren’t trolls supposed to be the ones that guard bridges.”

Flutour began to tell Flutiera to be more respectful of the Bridge’s custodian, but he was cut off by Trulldwarf.

“Well thars a simple explanation to all them questions. You see my Momma was a Troll and my poppa a Dwarf, and seein as Trolls account for their family in the matriarchal sense, I took Mommas lass name and profession, an unfortunately I got poppa’s looks.” He laughed as he took the pipe from his mouth and spat next to him.”

“But I digress…. Answer the Riddle or yall can Skiddiddle.” He laughed again as Flutour sighed a sigh of deep concentration.

“Let’s hear it Trulldwarf… we have more important things than your ambiguous riddles to attend to. By the way it must be a pretty awesome, sitting around thinking up riddles all day, all alone, guarding a bridge where few people ever pass.”

Hearing this, Trulldwarf broke into a long soliloquy over the perks of his job, on which Flutiera quickly suggested-

“Flutour, he doesn’t look too deft on his feet; he looks far more practiced at talking than guarding, perhaps we should just cross.”

“Flutiera, you are my muse and master, let us move.”

The two ran quickly across the bridge and to the other side, breaking into the woods, never hearing if Trulldwarf even noticed they had evaded his riddle.

By mid-day Flutour and Flutiera sat upon a bluff that overlooked the valley of Syntheon.

“Flutour it is beautiful.” Flutiera gasped.

“Yes, a shame this wonderful land is infested with indolent idiots. Just look at the possibilities this land offers for the seeds of diligence and inspired creativity.” Flutour sat in thought for only a bit, before he hastened Flutour to follow him down into the forest below.

By night fall they had reached the edge of the plains of Syntheon.

“Just as I suspected, they are all attending the night dances- led by the chief- most likely Deejay.” Flutour spat in disgust.

“Flutiera, stay here, I will go try to reason with them; I desire no more blood shed.”

Flutour ran towards the gathering leaving Flutiera in the safety of the forest.

The people were stunned to see Flutour appear. The abnormity of his of garb and the size of his instrument caused the people to stop dancing and back out of the circle. Flutour stopped in front of the large machine that mechanically produced loud base drums and rhythm. The chief (Deejay) hardly noticed as he danced drunkenly on top of the machine.

“My people, I come in peace, I desire only to have returned what was taken from me for defending myself. I would also like….” Flutour voice was cut off by a yell from Deejay, who had stopped the machine and dropped down to the ground bellow.

“Leave Flutour, your possessions have bee redistributed, after you decided to lash out against the rules of our society and continually refused to conform to our traditions. Leave now you pompous pariah, before I am forced to use force.” Deejay then turned to the people who still stood round- Deejay turned to them “My people forget this nonsense, surrender to the repetitive rhythm’s, forget your thoughts within the streams of senseless sound.”

Flutour again tried to address the people, but as soon as he shouted, Deejay charged at him with malicious intent; however he didn’t get far.

 

 

Flutiera watched as Flutour’s music engulfed the decadent contrivance that had so long held this culture spellbound and stagnant.

The people stood stunned, hovering betwixt confusion and anger. Some of the members of the tribe shouted out in anger but Flutour brought a quiet over the crowd by lifting the Flute of the Leviathan. He than spoke to the unsure mob as Flutiera came to his side.

“My people, as I have said, I came only to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I did not desire blood, but your chief left me no choice. Now that you are free from Deejay and his hypnotic rhythm machine, I want to offer you a choice.” The crowd was quiet as they listened to Flutour’s powerful voice.

“I was cast from the Syntheons after I was attacked, for no other reason than being different. During my travels and travail, I thought long and hard about this tribe and its ways. And after much deliberation, I found one more desire than reclaiming what was rightfully mine; I desire to bring about an age of enlightenment in acceptance, in all realms of human endeavor.” Some of the member of the Syntheons, shifted uncomfortably with these weighty words.

“My people, this is a choice, for I believe there is no more important law than this- we are born free and nobodies freedom should be infringed upon unless they first infringe upon another’s.” More gathered around as Flutour’s words seemed to increase in gravity.

“We are damned to be free, and it is our choices on this path of freedom which determine where we find our ends; are we to be an easy freedom empty of thought and action, or are we going to be determined to set our freedom to a purpose- are we going set our tribes name in stone with our great works of industry and art, or are we to become a forgotten tribe which vanishes as quickly as our last breath beneath the waters of time.” The people cheered, during Flutour’s pause.

“My people life and art are difficult, and like crops, the more you put into them the more you reap. The music of Deejay is like a prostitute- she is fun to dance with because you know you can; in short, she is easy; but after you are done you have nothing, barely a memory, only easy access to fun. True music, true art- is love, offering more than anyone can truly fathom, true love and true art seem to be composed of all the mysteries of this universe, and it is through these that we will find greatness, it is through these we will find purpose.”

“People, again it is your choice; but before I leave you to your thoughts; let me offer you my music, a taste of the possibilities.”

What commenced would go on to be the first great jam session in Syntheon history. Once Flutour began other outcasts from the tribe joined in; first was Guitarra, master of the guitar, then Jim Bay, master of the drums, and finally Mandolion- master of all stringed instruments. The people danced as they never had, and within the wonderful symphony the seeds of change were sown.

The years that followed were most prosperous that the Syntheons had ever known. The population doubled in a year, some say it was because Flutour’s music made love making twice as potent, others say that it was due to advances in medicine, crop rotation, irrigation, education, science, and arts.

The reader might want to know what became of Flutour and Flutiera. As you may have guessed Flutour became the unofficial leader of the Syntheons, unofficial because he didn’t believe in hierarchy. And as for Flutour and Flutiera’s relationship, they prospered as much or more than anything in that blessed valley, and as for the more sordid details and the consummation of their love which was destined to be more epic than anything in this story- I don’t believe it would do them justice or it would be legal to write or draw what took place after they had been united in the customs of the country. All I will say is that what commenced in the three days that they consummated their union would become the bases of the La Bella Communy De Fluteary- (Roughly Translated The Beautiful Communion of Instruments- the Syntheons version of the Kama Sutra.) And so they live happily ever after, or so I have been told.

THE END….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Epic of Flutour: Part II

Flutour soared upon the ethereal plane, bridging the gap between human and divine as he poured forth music never played by man. For the first time in his life Flutour felt invincible, he no longer doubted his abilities, and even he began to gloat upon his new powers. As he neared Mount Beezle he noticed a gathering of humans in the foothills of the Deimos Mountains; as he closed in, he noticed that it was a group of young women who appeared to be preparing a feast.

Flutour landed at the sight and was greeted by two beautiful maidens who offered him Mead and roast mutton. Flutour’s new sense of greatness now filled him with pride and a sense of entitlement. He accepted the gifts that were piled upon him and as he indulged his appetites the women begged him to do a keg stand. Fearing that he may imbibe to much of the sweet mead, Flutour agreed to do a one keg stand before he set off on his journey.

Ten keg stands later, Flutour was feeling the effects of the mead. The women continued to ply him with food and alcohol, and Flutour generously accepted. Flutour, realizing that it was no longer safe to fly, asked the young maidens if they would provide him with sleeping quarters for the night, that way he could head out safely in the morning; they gladly granted is wish.

What Flutour didn’t know is that these young maidens were not maidens at all but demons known as Lucifems. Lucifems take the form of women and they bring about the fall of prideful men by leading them to indulge in glutinous debauchery. These particular demons now took advantage of Flutours flaw. They sawed his wings off while he slept, burned them in a fire and threw the Flute of Leviathan into the flames and left Flutour for dead. (And no your eyes are not playing tricks on you, one of the demons does have a penis).

Cast down into the depths of doubt and despair, Flutour gave way to his fatigue and fell into a deep sleep plagued by troubling dreams. As he tossed and turned in fitful rest, he felt a calming hand that eased his fears. He gently opened his eyes and looked into the gaze of Flutiera, who gently rocked him back to sleep.

Flutour awoke to find Flutiera standing radiant as the sun before him; in her hands she held the Flute of the Leviathan. “How did you find it,” Flutour exclaimed.

“ I had to travel to the eighth ring of flute hell and make a blood offering to the Flute Gods by drinking the blood of new borne child. After I offered the blood of the pure child to the Flute Gods I then had to bring the Flute back to life by bathing it in a mixture of my own blood and tears.”

“My sweet Flute, Flutiera! You have done more than I could ever deserve. Even though I am slightly disturbed by the lengths which you have gone to bring back my Flute, I will forever love you and be in your debt.”

“I am messing with you Flutour.” She said as she handed over the flute.

“What?” Flutour said with a confused look.

“There is no Flute hell, I was just messing with you. The Flute of the Leviathan can neither be created nor destroyed, it was simply laying beneath the ashes of the fire.”

“Oh,….. Well…….., that is a little less dramatic, but no less thoughtful. I thank you again my love.”

Flutour took the Flute and held it into the air where it was baptized by the fire of the Gods. Reunited with his magical flute, Flutour was once again ready to conquer his quest and seize his destiny.

Just as it seemed that the day would end in sweet ecstasy, the Lucifems appeared on the horizon, screaming insults about various parts of Flutiera’s anatomy and what depraved things they were going to do to Flutour’s dead body.

Flutour did not respond, he told Flutiera to get out of the picture and take cover, and he waited for the Lucifems to make their move.

With a piercing bitch screech, the breasted Lucifem jumped towards Flutour in a Demonic Drop Kick, which unfortunately has been the death of many a Hero.

BOOM

The other Lucifem stood in stunned disbelief as he looked into the cold lifeless eyes of his friend’s severed head; before he could react Flutour let an odd high pitched note burst forth from The Flute of the Leviathan.

As the squealing note shattered the air, the Lucifem’s phallus burst into flames, eventually enveloping its whole body and reducing it to a pile of vial stinking ash.

As the smoke cleared, Flutiera came out from hiding and viewed the carnage which had been wrought by the hands of her lover. I am not going to lie, she was totally aroused; but she knew that thoughts must be turned to the completion of their task, so she discussed her plan with Flutour.

Flutiera explained that Mount Beezle was nearly un-climbable by men; she knew Flutour was more than capable, but time was of the essence, so she suggested that she use her pan flute to summon some help. Flutour agreed.

Flutiera played an epic pan flute solo, and when it was finished a mountain goat lumbered up to the couple.

“I am Capricecorn, and even though I am prone to unpredictable behavior, I would be honored to let your ride me up the mountain.”

Flutour incredulously mounted the small animal and looked back at Flutiera-

“I don’t know…. my feet are touching the ground. Could we get something with wings, like a giant Falcon maybe; this just doesn’t even seem practical.”

Flutiera assured him that mountain goats are some of the most sure footed mountain creatures; besides the fact that Giant Falcons had become extinct because of the falcon feather comforter craze of the late 80’s; thus a mountain Goat was the best choice.

Flutour nodded, gave his parting words to Flutiera, and then lifted his legs as Capricecorn headed towards the mountains.

Flutour and Capricecore made a slow but steady pace up the dreaded Mount Beezle.

Twenty hours Later……

Ten days later.

You get the point, it was an incredibly slow and difficult trek to the top of Mount Beezle; but now at last Flutour stood at the summit, the dreaded abode of the King of all Demons.

They stood at the entrance of a pitch black cave from which emanated the putrid smell of death and decay. Flutour wasn’t sure but the smell may have been issued from the mass of unnatural looking mold and fungus that clung to the cave walls. As Flutour made his way in he looked back to thank Capricecorn for his service.

When Flutour turned around he was shocked to see Capricecorn feasting upon the deadly poisonous mushrooms that covered the cave floor.

“Capricecorn! Don’t eat those you fool.” Flutour shouted; but Capricecorn continued to take his fill, succeeding in consuming his own weight of the deadly victuals in a matter of seconds.

He then turned to Flutour with a wild look in his eyes- “I do what I want Flutour. Stop looking at me like you’re my dad or something, lets go see that crazy Demon King, I am bored and my stomach hurts.”

Flutour knew that it was too late for his little friend and therefore futile to argue. “You are right my friend, let us proceed.”

Flutour then turned and headed into the darkness with Capricecorn stumbling closely behind.

They entered a large cavernous room. At the back, sitting on a throne constructed of human bone, sat the King of all Demons. Without fear Flutour addressed him- “I have come here to vanquish you vial scum. You will now feel the power of my flute.”

Flutour blew forth a note that shook the cave’s wall with its fierceness; but besides making Capricecorn vomit, it did nothing more.

The demon king looked blankly at Flutour and flipped him off. “I am deaf to the music of men you foolish human, have you any last words before I rip off your arms, replace them with your severed legs and than impale you on a stalactite”
Flutour stood petrified by fear, while he thought of what he could possibly do, Capricecorn vomited once again.

“What the hell is that thing.” The Demon king asked, as it looked at Capricecorn.

Flutour was still in shock as he looked over at his intoxicated companion.

“Oh, that is Capricecorn the Mountain Goat, he is just…. Nervous. Nervous because he is an offering to you.” My people and I thought that he would make a fine offering to such a powerful and distinguished demon as yourself.”

The demon king looked back and forth between the two and then said- “He looks like some kind of dog with horns, he really doesn’t look like a goat.’”  Flutour assured him that he was goat, and that Mountain Goats, even though they looked strange, were some of the finest specimens of meat.

The Demon King nodded his head, and then grabbed Capricecorn and shoved him into his mouth. He slowly chewed twice and then with a satisfied air he swallowed the chemical time bomb of Capricecorn.

The Demon king belched and put an unsteady hand to his head, he then began to expel copious amounts of vomit. This continued on for the next few minutes until the Demon King vomited himself unconscious and fell forward from his throne.

With the Demon King now lying unconscious at his feet, Flutour seized his destiny with a deadly blow from his flute.

Blood gushed from the wound as Flutour plunged the Flute of the Leviathan deep into the demon Kings monstrous head. When the blood began to shoot from his enemies mouth, Flutour pulled the Flute from his foe and walked from the scene of battle, for the Demon King had been destroyed.

With his most difficult battle won, Flutour made his way quickly down Mount Beezle and into to the waiting arms of Flutiera. As they embraced, tears of joy streamed down Flutiera’s face- “I am so glad it is done, we may finally be together.”Flutour held her tight, and with sadness in his voice he said- “I wish it was so… But we must now make our way to my village, there we fight for justice.

 

Leaving Fall

I wished to travel and that was all,

So I took my leave with the leaves of fall.

Strange how the heavens pass over,

Different to the eyes of a rover;

As if even time and space are relative to one without place,

Instilling awe and grace instead of furrows on the face.

Yet nothing exist without antithesis,

Our search for balance like Sisyphus.

We search for ones to love leaving the ones we knew,

Looking for new memories to join the cherished few.

The duality of memory, a blessing and curse,

Till death do you part, for better or worse.

For of all things I find and those I will take,

I will leave twice behind within my wake. 

The Epic Of Flutour: Part I

 

Flutour was the only flute player of his tribe and was constantly chided for his choice of a phallic instrument. Melatron, the chief warrior, had always hated Flutor for his different ways; however he equally feared him for his uncommon agility and strength. No matter how much Melatron teased Flutour about his flute playing, he could never stir Flutour into action.

One faithful night while Flutour soothed the maidens of the village with his flute playing, Melatron attacked him from behind with his spear. With incredible quickness Flutour parried the blow and struck Melatron in the back of the skull with his flute, instantly killing the mighty warrior. For the accidental murder Flutor was exiled for eternity; unless he returned with a fair maiden bride, found the fabled Flute of the Leviathan, learned mythic Music of the Gods, and faced Prince Grundel Ghoul (The ruler of all demons who lived upon Mount Beezle) in mortal combat.

Flutour now sat by the fire, vowing to complete each task so that he may one day return and become the ruler of the Syntheons.

The journey begins and comes to a halt at The Beggars Bridge, just outside Flutour’s village. Here Flutour meets Cadgery the Demon, who demands food from anyone desiring to cross.

If there was one thing that Flutour hated more than demons it was beggars. Always slow to anger and violence Flutour warns Cadgery that he is on a quest that will not be hindered by anyone or anything.

Realizing that demons can not be reasoned with, Flutour unleashes the power of his flute Virtigrio.

Flutour now crosses the bridge no longer bothered by the begging of Cadgery. He was careful to jump over the pull of urine left by his foe, for it is well know that demon urine is host to herpes and Hepatitis A.

As Flutour nears the Deathmust Groves, he sees as young woman tied to a stake as if she is to be sacrificed for some evil purpose. Before Flutour could free the woman the evil perpetrators present themselves in a puff of smoke.

Out of the smoke, the Afflictionknights appear. As they repulsively danced around the young woman, Flutour put Virtigrio to his lips and let forth the death song.

Thus Virtigrio played the death knell for the Afflictionknights; and to the relief of all intelligent beings, they were eradicated most painfully from the world never to return again. Let us hope that another decadent era dost not plague humanity and bring yet another lapse in human reasoning.

After Flutour had untied the young woman she produced a pan flute and called forth doves who clothed her in fine garb. As the doves flew above Flutour introduced himself and learned that the young maidens name was Flutiera, princess of the pan flute. With the pan flute she could call and command animals to do her bidding. As Flutour and her danced and played together, they each knew that they had found their one true love.

As night falls Flutour and Flutiera talk of their future life together; but as they dream of their future happy life, Flutor is reminded of his exile. He then tells Flutiera all of the particulars of his perilous quest. Flutiera begs to accompany him on his journey but Flutour refuses, assuring her that it would be to dangerous. Flutiera agrees but promises to provide help for Flutour from afar by commanding animals to assist him in anyway possible, excluding any sexual acts.

At day break Flutiera wakes Flutour and surprises him with a gift.

A giraffe that knows the way to the Lake of the Leviathan. Flutiera assures Flutour that a giraffe is far faster and much smarter than a horse. It can also see danger from farther away, for obvious reasons- ESP. Flutour mounts the Giraffe and promises Flutiera that he will return soon.

With a soft kick of his heal, the Giraffe (Wolfgang) makes briskly for the forest.

Flutour soon found himself at the edge of Leviathan Lake. Standing upon the Elder Willow he gazed out across the crystal waters. The Leviathan made its way across the surface and then slipped slowly beneath the waves. Flutour sat down and began to consider how he could best reach the Leviathan and destroy it, thereby retrieving its magical Flute. As the sun began to sink in the sky, Flutor was no closer to finding a solution to his conundrum.

As Flutour sat thinking, suddenly a giant Jelly fish ascended from the depths. It then spoke telling him that he had been sent by Flutiera to take him to depths of Leviathan lake inside his hollow body. Flutour was apprehensive at first, but when the jelly fish gently spoke, assuring Flutour that he would neither sting him or make him all itchy, Flutour believed and trusted him. Our hero swam out and under the dome like structure of the jelly fish and they sank slowly into the abyss of the underworld.

As they headed through the depths of the netherworld,  the shadowy figure of the Leviathan loomed in the distance. As the Leviathan approached Flutour and Jello the Jelly Fish, it occurred to Flutor that he could not use his flute to kill the Leviathan while inside Jello; the crushing sound of Virtigrio would kill not only the Leviathan but also liquidate Jello and cause the crushing water to overtake Flutor. As the Leviathan approached Flutour cursed his ignorance and Jello screamed for mercy.

The Leviathan opened his mouth and drew Jello and Flutor into is mouth with a single gulp. Flutor was cast into darkness that he had never imagined; and as it closed around him he curled into the fetal position and prepared for death.

As the Leviathan swam through the murky depths, his stomach began to growl and the Leviathan grumbled fearing that he may have indigestion. But just as he was about to eat some kelp (natures antacid) a sound pierced the darkness. The Leviathan instantly

disintegrated in a massive explosion of light and sound.

The Leviathan had been torn asunder by the piercing sound of Virtgrio.

A sound explosion blasted from the depths of Leviathan Lake, throwing to the surface the refuse and our hero.

Our hero was cast upon the shore and he lay upon the roots of the Elder Willow. For some time he did not move, but as the wind stirred his hair, he began to gasp for breath and pull himself to his shaky feet. As he gained his senses he admired the smooth lines of the Leviathan Flute that lay in his hand. He felt the power of the magical instrument pulse through his body. He slowly traced his hand over the flute and noted that the mythical flute was indeed made of some type bone (Whale Jawbone) and that it stood at the height of a man. He slowly put the flute to his lips and let the sound pour from the implement. No such sound had been heard for thousands of years, and as the odd note ripped through the air the ground quivered beneath Flutour’s feet. The note was unlike any that Flutour had ever heard, it was earthy, organic, it vibrated with life, it lacked the set metallic coldness of other instruments of his day. It was in a new key, the key of Ω, it was perfection, it was the music of the Gods.

Table 1B shows the different attributes of the flute of the Leviathan compared to other famous flutes.

As he played the Flute of the Leviathan an odd feeling overtook Flutour; wings suddenly shot from his shoulders. Flutour soared above the ground on angelic wings and graced the forest with the Music of the Gods. Flutour’s path now lay clear before him; with the power of the Leviathan flute he would destroy the Lord of the Demons; bringing about an era of peace and justice; he would then return to rule the Syntheons with his queen, Flutiera. He would bring the world the music of the Gods, which would usher in an era of unrivaled happiness and enlightenment. With a final roar from his flute, he shot into the clouds, and made haste for Mount Beezle.

The End- of Part I.