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Posts Tagged ‘Surrealistic fiction’

While the Angels are still being written, I thought a contents page would be helpful:

1) Essays on a Version of God that isn’t religion-dependent . . .

2) A year of short stories . . .

3) The Beginning of the Chronicles of the Angels of Eden . . .

 

May you enjoy!

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In the beginning . . .

Chapter 21 . . .

Chapter 22

“Then why have we not seen such materializations from nothingness before?”

“That doesn’t mean that they have not transpired in the past, Antagnous. I heard a story from one of Cain’s new attendants of a horse mysteriously appearing in his eating room, and then disappearing into the air while he was still living in Nod. That story was from around the time we moved from Nod.”

Gernow spoke next, “I too heard a story about a lamb dancing on its hind-legs and singing before vanishing without trace only a couple months ago in Cain.”

Casarta spoke up as the angels discussed whether these stories, along with what Caldas and Handoroth had seen, could in any way be linked to Casarta herself, “These instances, while the stories you describe as second-hand accounts are not exact, nonetheless sound very much like wanderings my mind has had from time to time.”

Again the village of angels stared at the young, red girl. And so spoke up Ternaddain, “Have you seen these ‘wanderings of your mind’ made flesh in any instance of pondering them, child?”

“Well, no,” she answered, “but I can’t deny that the timing and the instances described bear great resemblance to what I can remember of certain images I considered in my thoughts.”

Darwith spoke next, “When you have made these images in your mind, Casarta, did you ascribe a place to them?”

Casarta shook her head, “No, Darwith, I think only of something that the laws of the existence set out by Our Common Mother Universal Endlessness could not abide in functional reality. I never think so far as location as I always imagine these things as what could not exist to begin with.”

“Then, Casarta,” continued Darwith, “I recommend a test. Think of something happening right here in the middle of our circle as you would be inclined on the average day in which you ‘let your mind wander.’”

“What shall I conceive?” Asked Casarta.

“Think of two rabbits doing something in the middle of our circle which they would not otherwise be inclined to do . . .”

Gendlebleth shuddered for a moment at the mention of rabbits, then silenced his accustomed automatic impulses associated with the small furry creatures as he anticipated what might happen next.

Casarta thought for a moment in silence, then turned her attention to the middle of the circle to see if anything would come out of the unlikely scenario her imaginings led her to conceive.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, suddenly, in the middle of the circle appeared two bunnies.

Initially they just sat there. One scrunched its nose a bit, the other hopped around a little. The angels looked intently upon the creatures, but were less than impressed that they hadn’t arrived simply without being noticed. Then, one of the bunnies started hopping in reverse around the other bunny.

Faster and faster the rabbit started running a reverse circle around the other. The angels began having to shield their eyes from the dirt being kicked up in their direction as dust rose up making the stationary rabbit almost completely non-visible. Then from out of the dust the other rabbit flew off into the air, its forward paws straight in front of it as it soared into the night toward the stars. The other rabbit suddenly bounded onto Gendlebleth’s shoulder, kissed him on the cheek, and vanished into thin air.

As Gendlebleth felt the scrunching of the rabbit’s nose against his chin, he fainted on the spot.

Noting the ring left behind after the dust had settled, Antagnous commented under her breathe, “Well, I guess that answers that.”

Once again all those around the circle turned their attention to Casarta. Casarta felt the stare of all her tribe upon her, though nonetheless, couldn’t help but have to suppress the giggles automatically finding their way to her lips.

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Happy New Year everybody!

The story will continue next year, but, until then, may all be safe and happy!

To be continued . . .

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Much as around this time last year, I’ll be shortly shifting the focus of my blog. I’ll still be posting fiction, but I’ll write an entry exclusive to the nature of the shift next week.

In the meantime, I wanted to end a year of posting short fiction with one last tale of my recurring character. Here was her first appearance, and here her second. This time the idea came to me while in transit, the idea will unfold in front of me at the computer now. May whatever comes out of me bring something very good to whoever takes it in. Thank you to everyone who has checked out any of my short work, and I hope y’all take the journey with me as I post here starting next Sunday my new work. Peace, and, may you enjoy!

Leslie

Leslie took a step toward getting for herself a cup of water. One step later she felt everything shaking as the floor split open below her, and down she fell.

Past floorboards, and earth, and rock, and dirt, down, down, down. And further, and further, and further. She considered for a moment the end to Don Giovanni, and then decided that her virtue would declare her fate otherwise. She felt no heat as she descended.

After many minutes the light from above began to fade until she was left in darkness, descending. No rumble below her as after the first break of ground, there was nothing below her to open wide. She dared not test the aerodynamics of trying to go in a direction since at this speed she didn’t relish the idea of crashing into the wall of ground, and to what end? Could she climb if she found wall? Why would she want to stop the journey she didn’t ask for, but found herself upon?

Last known location of walls to touch, feet away in any given direction, no bottom in sight, and darkness and quiet surrounding her, she found relief in her fall as she closed her eyes and tried to experience fully the unique situation in which she found herself rather than thinking about what she wouldn’t dare change. So in silence, much to her relief, she let herself continue to fall without thinking of interrupting.

What felt like hours later, she saw the color of the inside of her eyelids lighten, and so opened her eyes. The dirt wall surrounded her with roots poking out out of reach every now and then. The vertical tunnel filled with light slowly as she fell for the next minute. She half-expected to see a white rabbit checking the time shortly before the tunnel flew past and she found herself falling through what seemed to be blue sky, lit from a source apparently far below her and indistinguishable from the blue the light reflected into existence from further than she hoped to fall.

Occasionally a dolphin swam by her, and it occurred to her over time that now that there were no walls to crash into, perhaps if she shifted her body she could choose in someway, if not direction alone, where she fell, and so in some sense fly.

She spread her arms and found that she did not feel as though she fell any longer, but even seemed to be able to will herself upward as she chose. She thought it curious that she’d never felt freedom before, now that she had an eternity in any given direction with nowhere to go.

As she felt her lungs fill, she felt neither hunger nor thirst; flying was all the sustenance needed to satisfy.

As a dolphin came swimming in into view, she flew to it, felt the side of its body. It seemed to like her. They kept each other company as she followed with her new, flippered friend. She had nowhere she wanted to go, so, it led.

The time they spent flying and swimming together was deeply satisfying  to her sense of experience when out ahead they were heading toward a convergence. Dolphins everywhere heading toward, swimming around a brightness hanging in the blue.

And as they approached, it grew and felt happy. The light washed over her in waves of warmth as she patted her companion a final time to say goodbye and dove straight toward the center of the light. She flew toward it faster and faster until coming upon it, she penetrated deep and sure. In she went, and moments later, at its center, there she stopped.

There was no further she could go. Still she found herself resonating outward from what filled her completely, the heart. Warmth flowing from her in every direction as she was the same as it. Perfectly still, without care of body that was satisfied in every way where motionless it arrived. There she was for as long as she’d have liked.

And when she was again outside of it, she saw a tunnel above her leading what her current orientation could call “up” unless she decided to rotate somewhat, which she did not.

Up she flew.

Through tunnel, past dirt, and rocks, and the rest, until she shot up two-and-one-half feet above the floor with just enough time for it to heal itself before landing with ease and grace in front of her water cooler. She took a glass from the counter and filled it. She was satisfied as she drank.

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So the first one I wrote most of while watching improv comedy. This one I wrote while listening to my friend sing the blues with her band. I don’t know if I’ll be writing anymore episodes while viewing other forms of art, but as of now she is officially recurring, if not but just for now . . .

Winding Road

Leslie stood and took one step forward. Two steps later across the carpeted floor and she was walking through the wall painted white; one step later she saw her other foot through to a dirt path winding through the trees, her house nowhere behind her to be found.

Her bare feet continued down the soft, cool dirt. A butterfly by her eyes and the flowers of purple, blue, red, and yellow peeking out through the high, green grass seemed to breathe all around her. Behind her it all began to swirl and blend into itself as slowly the path began to be closed in upon by the colors melting into one another. As she stepped forward along the path, a young deer that had recently lost its spots began to follow alongside her. As it continued to follow, its spots of red, white, and purple reappeared and then shortly after again dropped away as she journeyed onward.

Two trees arose either side of her and met at their tops where the branches swayed together as though holding hands in a gentle dance. From that gentle swaying their arms descended together slowly before her, and Leslie took the ends of the branches from both trees in her hands for a moment as though making the acquaintances of both. The trees then raised their arms together again toward the heavens where they returned in holding each other in reverence to the light and vapor suspended in the blue above where occasionally a bird would pass by.

The path slanted ever-so-slightly upward between the trees as, accompanied by her sometimes multi-spotted friend, she made her way onward. The next butterfly to pass by her eyes winked at her from one of the spots on its wing; she decided this particular forest was without question a friendly one.

Looking backward for a moment, she saw the colors swirling over the path behind her. She smiled and stopped walking. She stood still and waited while staring forward. The colors continued to blend forward over the path until at last coming to her heels. She felt herself lifted and carried, her journey forward begun again, the deer just ahead of her and to the side out of reach of the melted forest. Forward the journey continued, and Leslie was delighted to feel herself sliding ever forward, wound around trees as she was glided to following the same path upon which she would be walking had she been left to her own two feet.

Upward it carried her off the forest floor, her four-legged companion continuing its following alongside the path alone down below. Standing still, she felt herself being levitated over the tops of trees and toward the mountain’s summit. Over the next half of an hour she found herself encircling the protrusion of rock, soil, and trees. Round and round was she raised until to the top, where land plateaued, was she brought to rest by that which had carried her this far. Brought no further, she took a single step forward onto the clearing that which she stood upon was now perfectly aligned with. At the other end of the clearing she saw the end of a simple path of dirt where a young deer with spots occasionally dropping off was eating blades of grass sticking out between the flowers.

In the field before her were many flowers, like large daisies, with petals that alternatingly flowed black to white to black to white to black to white continuously through every petal almost as far as her eyes could reach. In the middle of this clearing was a single, giant red rose that reached high upwards and bloomed toward the heavens. It was to the rose she walked now.

There at its base, she looked up and down at the many thorns that grew from its stem. The thorns were so large, though, that they posed no threat of accidentally sticking her. In fact, she assessed at a glance that they seemed to be close enough together that they formed what looked like a sort of ladder that went all the way up the flower’s stalk. Taken as such, she grabbed onto the thorn closest to her accordingly.

Hand-over-hand, foot-by-foot, until coming finally to the hip of the rose, she plunged her hand into a petal sticking up from it, then her other hand into the petal beside it, and between petals she climbed her way into the giant flower. Once her feet were inside, she climbed up a particular petal until it took her up to the flower’s edge, and there she sat.

The scent of the flower filled her as rose while she looked below between forest and path and the swirled color that had brought her to the field below. Then, turning, the sun’s iris looked at her. The eye lighting the sky stared only for a minute or two toward Leslie, then looked down, followed by an eyelid that closed over it before it descended for her below the forest’s floor. During the minute it took for the sun to set, the sky filled with color before opening to black embedded with diamonds everywhere she set her gaze. She marveled to see what she was made of shining upon her from every direction. She turned her body toward the center of the flower and lay down to better breathe in the rose-scented universe with her eyes. She allowed every part of her musculature, mind, and heart to relax. She felt her self as though dissolved into the petal atop which she lay; she felt her self sway coolly, gently with the breath of the cosmos; she let the dazzling jewels of stellar flesh above her fill her eyes and her smile.

Some hours later the sun decided to raise itself again to a place where the sky filled with rainbow, and there the sun stayed. She raised herself by her fingertips atop the petal and inched forward toward the rose’s center until gravity could take the work over, and she glided down into the rose’s core. Feet-first she flowed down, and in, surrounded by fragrance and the silken smooth of the petal upon which she rode. She felt surrounded and hugged by its heart as she continued sliding downward and through. Laughing, she blinked while being engulfed in the pure red. When her eyes opened from her blink, she stood again in the middle of the carpet, surrounded by the white walls of her home. She wondered where her next step would take her.

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Free-flow thought. Almost like a waking dream really . . .

Beyond Expectations

Leslie sat expecting something.

The walls flew off the room and she was surrounded by dark clouds thundering, rushing toward and over her head from a pitch black inking into the sky. A bolt of lightning flew inches in front of her face and she gripped the cushion of the chair on which she sat.

Lightning behind her crackling the air as though ever-present invisible molecules were a sheet of foil being crunched together in front of ten-thousand megaphones. Down came lightning lighting the darkness that surrounded the clouds overhead, and then, a ray of light penetrated through it all down to precisely one foot in front of her.

A cylinder of light eight inches in diameter cutting through darkness and past lightning. The color of the ray was blue, the color of sapphire that oscillated in hue from deep and soul-full to the lightness of the sky at noon. The shades changed brightness in five-minute intervals as the lightning continued crackling the sky in ever-bright all-dazzling darkness. A particle descended down the center of the ray of light.

When it had descended to Leslie’s eye level it ceased its descent. As it grew slightly in size it could be discerned to be spinning rapidly. As it continued to grow, it revealed enough detail to be blurry. A tinted blue spinning, growing for several minutes before slowing. The form was a pelican, light-blue in the light of the beam and white outside it where its wings could not be contained, then, flying out from the ray the moment its spinning stopped; it navigated flashes through darkness. Others of its kind began swooping down from clouds to join it as without formation a thousand pelicans swooped passed and around flashes of light tearing through the darkness.

A single fish fell directly into the open mouth of a large bird flying around an imposing flash of light. No bird changed trajectory or rotated so much as an eyeball a fraction of a degree as the slightest food fed but one of the multitudes of like-minded fliers; no competition was had as tasty treat descended to feed just one amongst the many.

Amidst bird and light a flame descended, as though the intention of an invisible candle without wick, down the center of the blue ray of light. The flame fell deep purple by degrees until it showed itself bright red in the shard of light repositioned from out the clear sky of another time and place. Birds and branched electricity and a red flame levitating in a sky-blue cylinder of light danced in her eyes as she sat spell-bound by the burning flicker lighting further the darkness which otherwise would claim itself a natural state.

Just as the transition again began toward purple, the flame leapt outward in all directions, breaking itself into eight, and surrounding Leslie in a ring two yards from her in every direction. In the flash of another bolt of lightning, the flames in the ring again divided outward times eight and continued to divide with every subsequent bolt.

Finally, a wing appeared where the flame had been but a moment before; it did not lower, but fluttered in the middle of the ray before her eyes nonetheless. A hand grew itself from the wing followed by an arm. The hand reached itself toward where Leslie sat; it seemed to be introducing itself to her. The hand was blue until leaving the ray where the wing to which it was attached still fluttered deeply as though made of the color of the jewel. Leslie reached her hand toward the other. For just a moment she felt her own heart beat purple before finding herself in her house surrounded by a warm summer day outside her windows.

She wondered why it was that she no longer sat upon a chair, but found herself cross-legged on the carpet.

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