Welcome To Hellville - Part 10 contd By Rich Mills

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What is never lost, can never be found... Back from his brief blackout he swayed slightly but stood his ground, no longer needing the tower walls for support. He'd returned to the silence again, but now a soft warm silence. Finding himself now inside the tower, rather than as the travel-weary visitor locked on the outside. A comforting summer silence was what he felt hummed about him, rather than a chillingly flat and all too coldly empty winter silence.

He immediately turned and made his escape from the silent tower that had grown up around him while he'd been distracted. Leaving before the flood waters came rushing in again and exiled him back on this never ending island plateau. Being entombed in the torturous tower where even angels feared to tread, no one would have heard him screaming from the darkness drenched interior.

So with this in mind he took his only chance at freedom, willing to face without fear the mythical beasts beyond in this new found realm. Where sky, sea, river and land all meet in celebration of long ago bestowed natural glory he squinted at the infinitely curving horizon spun out in front of him. All lines meeting up at some point beyond his reach and confused comprehension. Confidently striding out along the tree lined boulevard, a warming light played between the branches and the turning leaves. An iron-oxide pallor started to appear along their edges, as summer breathed its last, making way for autumn rust, leading to winter death.

Dappled patterns of light and shade carpeted the broad avenue as it stretched out before him. The fall was on its way, but that no longer pressed heavy on his heart.

With the remaining entrails of the thread by now visibly interwoven with half the naked flesh on his body, he knew without reservation that he'd carry the deep-rooted marks forever, this was to be his penance. In places he noticed that the thread rose elegantly to the surface, before sinking back deep inside him. Surface evidence of the parasitic thread worming through his flesh made the desire not to pick at it way beyond all forms of temptation he'd previously denied himself. Some day... Some day soon... Before it's all much too late...

Thus in a short-lived twinkling epiphany he knew this was to become his confessional obsession, eternally picking at emancipation. Alan knew he must write. He must write and do nothing else, words must be carved in ethereal stone before the flooding came in and washed them away. This was his moment and only destiny stood in his way. As after God the only culprit that he could accuse of deception was himself, he knew that and he was ready to face whatever and whoever he put in his own way. So he thought with all his might, the result flowing forth from the wounded Manipura deep within his solar plexus.

The resultant energies of which enflamed his gut, acting as catalyst that ignited a chemical reaction of his gastric juices. A manly belch grounded the would-be ephemeron. Now looking at as opposed to through the display unit in front of him, words had etched themselves onto the glowing surface strung together in long locked sentence chains, all firmly keyed together, a substantial wall of words. The words that he was reading were not unfamiliar to him. In a definite case of deja vu he knew that he had seen these words put together in this order, or one spookily similar, somewhere before. Here it had been, on this particular monitor screen, at a moment just like now.

Continued Welcome To Hellville - Part 11 By Rich Mills.. Next Page

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