Wellspring of Love

excerpt

“You’re not eating much, Aunt Millie. Perhaps that’s your trouble.
Don’t you feel hungry?”
Millie had smiled and got up to put preserved peaches and peanut
butter cookies on the table. “Just a result of feeling weary, nothing
more. Don’t worry yourself, dear boy. I’m fine.”
But she had not convinced him, and the thing he had been hoping
to talk to her about – Rachael’s problematic friendship with Lyssa –
had been put off. He knew he couldn’t burden Aunt Millie further,
even if she was, as she said, just tired.
Ronald turned over in bed – again – and looked at his alarm
clock. Almost midnight! He may as well have gone to the dance in
Spirit Lake after all, except that he didn’t have a date. Not that it mattered
much, but his friends were all dating now and he didn’t want to
appear more of an outsider than he already knew he was. Sometimes
those same friends razzed him for not drinking or smoking. He had
tried smoking when he was fourteen but decided he would rather be
an outsider than suffer the choking and coughing that resulted from
his first drag on a cigarette. They also razzed him occasionally for
going to church, especially Morley’s church.
“Holy Rollers,” they would say with disdain. “Hey, Harrison,
what do they do in that church, anyway?”
And more than once Ronald, refusing to be riled or offended, had
answered, “Why don’t you come see for yourselves?”
With the realization that in just a few hours he would be getting
up to go to church, Ronald sighed, settled his head more comfortably
on the pillow and tried to put Aunt Millie, Rachael and every other
thought out of his mind.
ͣͣ
Tyne closed her Bible and placed it on the bedside table, being careful
not to disturb Morley who had been asleep for some time. Rachael
must be due home, but so far Tyne hadn’t heard her come in.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562917

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763327

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume I

OCEAN’S MARCH

Leave us only
the night’s ecstasy
when the children fish for stars
in the snow white caiques
when naked and handsome ephebes
stare straight at beauty’s eyes
without suspicion or fear
Return to us
the paper ships
to moor in a well known harbor
of our first homeland
For a moment
we shall kneel on the sand
and we shall pray
in front of our indomitable shadow
while the sea’s sad Virgin Mary
will quietly open the front door of the church
and will lean to kiss our hair
drenched by the slender dew of stars
of silence and of the night
Although we
shall again deny
the kiss of love
that soothes and ties…

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The Qliphoth

Version 1.0.0

excerpt

…wheeler-dealer in twentieth century wreckage, the magus who re-discovered
the Lore of the Brazen Head.
Even now I must pay for my faery-land humours, for Jago will be soon lumbering
over with his medical mafiosi, to wake up the sleeping beauties; to make
a special brain check on ugly old pseudo-Rabbinical Freakbeard.
For fuck’s sake, Wolfbane! I’d only just got Jago off my back. And then you
came across to peer over my shoulder, you burst into a sniggering fit, your
greaselocks whirling . . .
“Why waste your time inventing a new religion?” you shouted, so that the
whole Day Room could hear, even poor Eamonn, who looked up anxiously
from his week-old Catholic Herald, thinking more new sins for Eamonn,
omigod . . .
“The teachings channeled via the Order of the Brazen Head are not a religion.
They’re fragments of a system for magically transforming reality. I’m
well on the way to rediscovering it.” I was angry but remained in full control.
He obviously wasn’t accustomed to dealing with an authentic adept.
“Sounds like Harry Houdini to me. All these old blokes in robes climbing
into magic compartments. The disappearing cabinet gimmick. Mummy case,
magic casket, fakirs in igloos, it’s all the same. Ancient stuff. I’ve been doing it
for years. Watch me now. I can mash potato, I can do the twist . . .”
He did a little sing-song dance routine, not the head banging heroics everyone
associated with the Hrothgar videos, more like a twirly number from some
old Motown tour. He spun so fast he was a blur of hair.
“Why are you in here, Wolfbane? ”
“It was headline news,” he muttered, “and everybody in the business knew
about it.” He seemed offended that I didn’t know. “Anyway, I know all about
you now. You’ve abandoned your wife and child, right? Abandoned them, to
be lost in space, on the dead planet, to be eaten alive by robots. While you
bummed off to write letters to aliens. What kind of an alibi is that, I ask you? I
was a dragon-slayer. You were just a worm . . .”
He’d never suffered under PP, the All-Devourer, She Who Hath Gnawed
Out the Sweetness of My Entrails.
“When you see the finished Book of the Lore, Wolfbane, you’ll see I was
given no choice, I made the best decision in the circumstances, and when I’ve
finished my life’s work, you’ll see . . .”
“You’ll never finish it. That’s your bloody alibi, isn’t it? Just do it to death.”
He repeated it several times—do it to death—wrote it across the wall…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562839

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186508

Übermensch

Teacher
It was a foggy day when, like students, we entered
the school; found the teacher writing on the board
something narrating a familiar fable which we found
tasteless. The teacher welcomed us, especially the initiate,
who always inspired admiration with His graceful persona,
His stature and it was as if He led us to a garden full
of bloomed flowers, playful butterflies hanging from
threads of air, colorful spring, and the teacher repeated
to his students, ‘attention children attention, it isn’t
often that we have such a special visitor’, Übermensch
laughed and obviously pleased He said: ‘these students
are tomorrow’s Übermenschen.’

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