Diary Entry - Flood

Friday 22 September 2023

  We weren't really aware of it before it came. Three days of constant downpour. The flood took everything. The houses, the cows and the sheep. It took the crops and the mountain roads. Shops drowned in floating dairy and offices transformed into swamps of rotting paper forms. The waterworks destroyed and everyone left without electricity and running water. Cars taken by the sea. Villages being cut off civilization. A few dead.

  That was three weeks ago.

  Today, we still don't have quality running water. The toxic waste and the dead animals are still in it. The frantic mob is out for the hunt of overpriced bottled water. We're still shoveling the dirt from the mountain that came down on us brown and sickly, from our pavements. Filling forms and complaints against the city for compensation money for our lost property. The supermarkets offer discounts on all products as an act of solidarity. The original prices have gone up beforehand though.

  It's a Friday at the end of September and there's heat, unbearable humidity and a constant cloud of dust. The weather forecast predicted a second downpour come Tuesday. The land can't take no more. And the city is not ready.

  Today the mayor announced that by Monday the Christmas decorations will begin. Maybe it's the sky of blue lights which causes epilepsy. Maybe it's the festive spirit of a pure adolescent childhood which compels us. Or maybe, it's just the firm belief of our mayor that we'll make it to December. We're in for three long months. 

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Excerpts of the Sleepless Cycle - Bass

My bass guitar was broken. I knew that but I couldn't quite define what exactly was wrong with it. The neck was too short. Like it was broken and then roughly been put back together with most of the middle part missing. So the neck was too short. I could see that, but I couldn't realize the problem in it. It seemed natural. It must be something else wrong with it.

My friends tried to persuade me that there's nothing wrong with the bass. It's just in my mind. I didn't lend it to the squat guys so that they can practice and they mistreated it. They didn't disrespect my offer and my willing sacrifice. At the back of my mind there was always the idea that I could not trust these people, but I always pushed that thought away. Because we are supposed to be the good guys. The ones who care. The empathy team.

But now my bass guitar is broken. It looks weird and unnatural and the neck is too short. And yet I still can't pinpoint that that's what's wrong with it. My friends insist it's just my imagination. Why do they do that? They're supposed to be my friends. They're supposed to tell me when I can't see what's in front of me.

The bass guitar is resting on a chair at the far end of the room. It's so hard to pick it up again now. The thick layer of dust would mean I'd have to clean it up first, and I can't go into all that trouble.

So maybe I'll say that it's broken.

* * * 

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Bicycle

 When the earth cracked open at the park, the little girl was swallowed inside the chasm. It wasn't my first time positioned in entropy's graceful side, and even though I knew the wrongness of what I was about to do, I didn't even flinch. I moved past her - emptying my heart of guilt and making room for a strangely familiar reprieve. Her accidental fall was but an opportunity for me. Her little bicycle, toppled at the edge of the chasm, was there for me to take.

Erik

Whenever Erik would visit Rust Alley, he'd see the donkey-headed man grinning at him. Erik would look at his big white teeth, even though he isn't supposed to, and the donkey-headed man would say a thing so weird, that the contemplation of its meaning would consume in unhealthy ways a good portion of Erik's waking life. Sometimes it would haunt his dreams too.

The donkey-headed man is three legged, blind and vast. His appendices stretch away, hiding in the shadowy corners of the alley. Heart-shaped sunglasses reflect the lamppost's light, looking back at Erik with two bright pupils, and like graffiti on a wall, his body merges with the derelict shacks behind him. He says:

“Why do I hear a telephone ringing? The wiring isn't installed properly. Am I blind? Am I not deaf? Ruined by your vindication, I smile to welcome fear, for a broken messenger I am. Would you fix me with your coins?”

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Train

I was telling her something.

But then I turned my head to look at her, and I realized, I wasn't. I just imagined I did.

I then went to open my mouth to tell her what I wanted, but I couldn't remember what it was.

How did I get here? Is this even real? Is she sitting right beside me, or is her bewitching perfume the longing of a distant memory?

I am now alone, in the middle of the rails.

Waiting to catch the last train.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

There is just more tunnel.

Queendom Come

A clock begun to tick.

And I charged into the battlefield.

Leaping feet, sword in hand and a silent battle cry filling my mind with blasting rage.

I saw her coming from the other side. Shinning white armor, determined stride, face painted death.

Overtaken by a terrible ecstasy, my eyes blazed with glorious hatred, my arms transformed into weapons of justice. The command had been given. The enemy was in sight. First blood was about to be drawn.

But then, she stopped. Right in the middle of the battlefield, she stopped. Idly staring at me, staring at her own demise.

Pagan

There was a time not long ago, when man believed.

When morals were held in hand alongside faith, and people were content to surrender to powers beyond their mortal capability, for a divine favor.

And life is always harsh.

The people of the village of Onslo knew it well.

Stuck like a limpet on a sea rock, the village rooted against a steep slope, close to the highest peaks of Mount Vunio.

On its feet, the thick cloud blanket kept the village away from an old, forgotten world beneath. The Cloud Gods were not remembered fondly, or hatefully there. In such a place their names were nothing more than a distant memory.

Someone else's tale.

But for the people of Onslo, the giants carried a relentless winter on their backs. And spring, was something that had to be earned, by blood and sweat and sacrifice.

So the people of Onslo believed.

Handker Chief

I hate it in here.

It's dark and wet. I'm wet.

I'm accompanied by things unworthy of my great heritage. The crumbled candy wrap, the coins of petty value, the surrounding lint and hair. A key amongst sesame seeds. Has this pocket ever been emptied?

Why did I end up here? I thought I deserved the world.

Because I haven't always been a napkin. No. I was made for more. I used to be proud and brave and ruthless. Once, I was a flag.

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Candle

Some nights the chandlers would come.

They would take me in my sleep and do things on me.

Tied on a wooden altar, I could only stare at their bleak, static faces, as they scrutinized my body.

The one who doesn't speak, always cared for my perfect alignment against the altar. My hands touching my thighs, my knees and ankles touching together.

The one who never talks, carried a heavy, leather bag. The metallic tools contained within were carefully arranged along an invisible surface. Even though, I could not turn my head to look at them, I knew they were pointed at me.

The third one, the one who only smiles, she would just stay unmoving in front of my face. Eyeless and white. Like trying to distract me from everything about to happen.

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Ants

Ants came while I was asleep.

They took my left eyebrow.

Carried over and planted all the hair above my right one. Now, I have just one big eyebrow. It doesn't feel right.

It's uneven. Asymmetrical. Odd.

I find myself leaning to my right side when I talk to people. They say nothing, don't even seem to notice it. But I know they're are either being polite or ashamed of my unfortunate face. All in all, I'd rather have their outright mockery, than a silent pity.

I don't know why the ants did that. Who told them to? Could it be the King of Ants, whom I've never heard about? The big shadow cast above my right eye blurs the answers.

One thing is for certain though, they're coming for my nostril hair next. They'll put it inside my ears.

That's why I filled them up with silicon. Insulation. That'll stop them. Trading some of my senses is probably worth them leaving me alone.

As for my nostril hair, it won't be easy finding it, while along with my nose, it's in the garbage can.

If only the blood would stop pouring on the paper, I would consider this a clean victory.

Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Hag

The night hag comes while I sleep. With her wooden ladle she eats soup out of my open head. She stirs my dreams and sniffs the vapors through her hairy nostrils.

That's why they're always whirling when I wake up, and only the bits she left I can remember.

I will find you witch. I will take my dreams back. I can shatter them myself, all but the same.

Once Upon in Al' Dah Kash

Once upon a time, there was a sultan who was mostly stingy and enjoyed counting his money and numerous possessions more than anything.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 5

The manor was not the most pleasant of places to be alone in.

Theodore was slightly rocking, silent on the chair. Outside, in the absence of wind, the rain was falling vertically along the surfaces and it sounded so orchestrated, so even, like a sequence of notes repeating over and over. Lost inside a reverie of new-found realizations, shades of mystery and dread emerged to darken his mind. Like pieces in a dreamed-of puzzle the memories came together, creating menacing, strangely familiar shapes.

He remembered now; the man at the bar.
What he had said.

The Intermediates

This is the place where all the important things happen.

So they told me at least.

I didn't argue.

I've been coming here for years, but it didn't get any easier with time.

We were given a space to be and a seat to sit. Next to each other and still invisible to all but ourselves.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 4

 The room wasn't particularly spacious and the thick beams on the ceiling hanging a little above Theodore's head made it look even smaller. The decoration, before it was furiously altered, involved bookcases filled with leather-bound books and a collection of various academic tools, from pens and compasses to telescopes and astrolabes. Now, everything lied on the floor with most of the items beyond the state of a simple repair.

He approached the desk which had been briefly cleared from the debris and sat on the rocking chair as the man before him had suggested.

“My name is Jebediah Code” said the man and offered a wrinkled hand in greeting. “I'm glad you received my letter.”

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 3

A subtle light slowly crept from outside and the slight adjustment in illumination woke Theodore up.

He reluctantly got off the bed and moved his still slumbering body towards the window. Under a dense ceiling of gray clouds the city was already awake. The streets below crawled with people, crafting, trading, strolling around as much as they could, before the skies cracked open once more. His over indulgence in liquors last night had provided for a devious bowel and a nice headache, so he poured some water on his face to consolidate his senses. As he saw his dreary reflection in the water-bowl, he tried to gather his recent memories to figure out some possible reason to grab the day by the sideburns and not call in sick.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 2

The rain was still pouring outside, but the heat of the fireplace and the chaotic chatter of the customers dispelled it from Theodore's mind. One of Rumporth's more questionably decent taverns, The Handsome Devil was cramped this hour of the day. The owner of the place, always sitting behind the bar was definitely not handsome, but he did possess some undefined devilish quality.

The Blooms of Perennial Wisdom: Chapter 1

It was around sundown. Although, sun rarely visits these parts.

The light filtering through the dark blanket of clouds was fading and oil lanterns took its place. Heavy rain was pouring down like God's rods, crumbling Theodore Hold's constantly malfunctioning parasol and aptly revealing him to be as out of place as he already felt. A chapel was nearby. He stood beside a weather-beaten cypress tree, part of a small congregation of figures surrounding a hole in the ground. Funerals always made him uneasy. It was the people there. This one, luckily, was attended only by a few.

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part Six)

 They stood for a moment looking at each other trying to adjust their minds on the curious encounter they just had. The girl seemed lost in her thoughts, but her big almond-shaped eyes looked calm and aloof, like she wasn't really surprised by what had just happened. Ovolon noticed this and spoke first.

“You seem like we didn't just met a God. Have you ever met one before?” he asked with a half-fake inspecting tone.

“I don't think so.” answered the girl.

“Aren't you surprised?”

“Well we met someone who claimed to be a God and who gave us a map to the end of the world. It is what it is.” said the girl and gave him a smile like all the cares and the burdens of this world were not enough to smother her optimism.

Strange Fruit of Paradise (Part Five)

The sun was already up, having emerged from between the distant sand dunes in the east. The girl watched Ovolon as he was packing their things to go. The look of him; crouching, carefully stuffing everything inside his backpack, with messy curly hair and an unshaven chin, reminded her of monkeys eating lice from each other's backs.

“Ahem, so where to now?” she asked in a faked serious tone and tried to hide a giggle as Ovolon turned his head and looked at her with confusion.

“I thought you knew!”

“Nope. No idea what to do now. All I knew was that we should hurry get inside. I don't even remember why. Maybe it was just a hunch.” she said as she strolled around him, with her hands behind her back and her head looking up the sky.