The Wonderful Blog Which You ve Never Seen

The Plane from Iquitos
Part Two

The Ritual of Chief Evil-Eye

Captain Derry and the others had headed into the thick of the jungle, had no idea what had happened to the old soldiers, and his followers, that being: the old soldier himself, and the professor, along with Martha and her two women friends, and the chief: Mana, and his body guard, Kana. They were of course all slain, and now the chief of the other tribe, the one they were running from, had piled up the bodies, tied them upside down by their legs and carried them two per stick through the jungle to an opening of the Amazon, wherein they were going to put them on a craft, and set fire to the bodies and craft, sending it down the river, where they had come from. It served two purposes: the bodies would burn, and no one would be the wiser that they had come, no bodies to find a year, or ten years down the road. Plus, the chief, had admired the bravery of the old soldier, and this was to show his respects. The chief, whom was called ‘Evil Eye,’ dreadfully tall and ugly, but build strong, and all but naked, had painted his face with his wildly fruit colored paints, like a leopard, and had just burnt the village they conquered, of Chief Mana, sent back to their village some thirty plus warriors, and he and several others headed for the river.

–It had been a number of days now since the small group of five left the other group of fivetheir idea being, if one group didn’t make it out alive the other would, and would have a better chance if they separated, and yet, trouble had seemed to find them anyway, for as they had neared the river, within several miles of it, of which they were some twenty-five miles inland from the Amazon river, and another one-hundred miles upriver from Iquitos, when Captain Derry and Lora, had stepped onto and into a sink-hole, dropping some thirty-plus feet, mostly sliding on the side of mud and roots, and finding themselves by an underground stream. There was no way to climb out, nor rope to assist them should they try. Henry, yelling, had suggested they follow the river, it seemed feasible underground, and they’d follow it above ground and they’d meet at the rivers edge. Both parties agreed.

Henry, and the couple, Dane and Kim, found themselves now heading again on their journey, their fight to keep ahead of Evil-Eye, and his hordes, should they meet up with them, they had no idea of his viciousness, other than their time they had spent at their village when their plane had been shot down by them. And the old soldier had insisted on burning the village, and that infuriated the tribe, yet, as they were learning, Evil-Eye, needed little or nothing to provoke him, just the sight of another unfamiliar person would trigger his anger, and warriors spirit.

Two days had passed since Captain Derry and Lora had fallen down into the sink hole, and Henry, the co-pilot, Dana and Kim were becoming weather-beaten for the most part. It was difficult to walk hour after hour over roots, and dodge snakes and being eaten by a locust of flying creatures, and an army of ants all over the place. Sometimes the ants had a mile long trail, where you’d see them carrying bits and pieces of leafs five times their weight and height, and then come upon a huge mound, a hill that looked more like someone on the beach had built a castle, and forgot the walls. In any case, said Henry to Kim as they rested, the sun creeping through the towering river of green overhead,

“I can almost feel, if not taste the river ahead of us.”

Said Kim with a joyful, and whimsy voice: “Yes, yes, my wife and I will be glad to get back to Iquitos, you know it was simply a ride down the river, and it has all lead into to this dark and gloomy episode in our lives. Unbelievable.”

“Yaw, but you can’t figure out when and where trouble will be, it lurks in the area, just creeps in if it isn’t in Iquitos itself, it’s here, or there. Once we get to the river Kim, we’ll see if we can find a craft of some kind, a lot of natives leave their boats, dug-outs, what have you, tied to the riverbanks, we’ll borrow one, and I’d say, another ninety-miles to Iquitos down river, and we’ll be home.” Dana was laying against a huge tree when Henry noticed a tarantula surfacing from a dugout hole by a tree, under one of its huge roots, her left leg was lying against it.

Said Henry, with a calm and soothing voice: “Don’t move when you feel something on you Dana,” she immediately looked at Henry, with a frown, said,

“What do you mean?” Then felt something crawling on her leg.

“Can I look?” she said in a terrified voice.

“Only if you do not panic,” said Henry, then added softly to Kim, “Keep her calm, I will kill it should I need to, but it will just crawl over her, and most likely that will be that.”

Next, Henry stood up, grabbed a stick, while Kim smiled at Dana, as Dana now saw the hair like creature as big as a large persons hand: a giant spider she cried, but cried softly, without moving her body, only trembling, as it moved slowly over her leg and then over to the other side and over that leg and then by the other roots. Then she got up, let her breath out of her mouth and ran to Kim.

“Well, it’s, I suppose it’s time to get moving” said Henry with a misled tone of relief.

Several more hours had passed, and they now could see the river ahead, as they started to step out of the towering tree canap

Tag: Short StoryShort Story

Share This

No Comments »

The Planet Moiromma
[And the Moon Ice Cap]

[Letter of accountMarch 24, 1903] I, Nori Iron from the planet called Moiromma now growing of old age in the jungles of what is known as Guatemala, by an ancient Mayan city called Tikal, I am writing this account of my home planet, I do hope my memoirs are readable for those who may find them in the future. I have now been on earth for some fifty-years, and to be quite honest, I do not feel I will last much longer. I have learned how to write Spanish and English during these years, as well as keeping up with my language. And so to my friends whom may find me from Moiromma, if anyone ever does, I say, ‘Hal awe-lo way [peace be with you].’

The people of earth are not convinced there are aliens on their planet, and all the better for it, I think they’d go hysterical if they did. In addition I think their economy would crash, simply because of paniceverything seems to be connected to Wall Street, they are not ready for such things; to be honest, they are better off believing in this man named Darwin, who has some theories on evolution, quite interesting, if not down right eidetic scientific, and would be a good science fiction yarn to tell the folks back home. I don’t think he believed in it himself, but since everyone else does, I mean believes in it, and a person has got to make a living, so I suppose why not go along it. But back to what I was about to say in my account of my life here on earth. I was bornaccording to earth time, 439-years ago. And I have hidden in these damn jungles for a very, very long time; I am going eerie-mad to be quite frank. According to them, the earthlings, I look as what they call “The Missing Link.” Some creature between man and monster I do believe, and they got pictures of me running through the jungle like a jackrabbit.

I have what the folks call: the fever, some kind of virus or germ got me. It is a mixture of several things I understand. I do, or have stayed alive on human flesh these past years, rather tasty: wish we had it back home, but then back home I never go tired, or that hungry; it is a sweet and mellow tasting meat. And the blood is so warm. But as I was going to say, our planet at the end of earths so called solar system, is our planet, a somewhat dead planet for the most part now, and a little largerif at allthan their moon; which seems to have a powerful gravitational pull against earth; so much so, it moves the great bodies of water to the point it rubs against the ocean floor, thus, causing friction to the point it energies the satellite disc which in turn creates it energy for its orbit, and moves the moon farther away from earth, at a faster speed. Our moon does not have such a pull of Moiromma [Ice Cap], but then it is quite a lot farther away than their moon is. To my guess there moon is some 240,000 miles in orbit around their planet, where as Ice Cap is three times that distance.

Oh well, oh well, sweat and tragedy, it was all predicted by Tfarcevol, he was one of our great philosophers during my time; that is, my youthful years on Moiromma. He said to us many years ago: ‘our planet cannot sustain an abundance of life anymore, and therefore some must be sent to other planets [intellectuals for the most part, and engineers, artists and scholars were sent then, when I was just acquiring formal reasoning I suppose, but than we do grow quite fast]; yes, we sent our elite, our educated to other planets, to preserve our race. And for those who would stay, could maintain a home there for as long as Moiromma would allow it. Well, this is what took place, and starvation and war crept in, and then a warrior named Uhluhtc, a vile and hideous creature took the remaining of the peoples and united them, killing any who would not surrender to his will; I’m sure if he ever returned to the planet, he has a different story to tell everyone; I often wonder if he was here, here on earth, I often got that funny feeling he was. He was like a dictator. The only good thing he provided was security for his people. I tired to fight him, and he killed me, and I reappeared here on earth. That’s an old story just getting older.

We have a moon linked to Moiromma, but in reality it is not a moon, rather an Asteroid-moon, it has its own orbit, and it has an atmosphere believe it or not, not like the earths moon, no air at all; but then you got to have water, as does a comet and our asteroid. A dark and porous rock in the sky is all it really amounts to, about one fifth the size of our planet, and more glacier like than our planet which is saying a lot, and that my friends is saying something beyond eerie, as it sounds you will never understand unless you go there, I liked seeing it in the sky though, the asteroid-moon, now and thenat twilightit was a little dot, but our eyes are good and se can magnify them somewhat by staring and adjusting, we had a grayish kind of twilight, a light gray that shifted into a dark gray, and then into dusk. Also our arctic planet with its eerie red dots circling its surface is mostly of iron mixed with other minerals. We do have some venomous creatures there also, ice rats, and ice worms, when you can find them, they taste good, and I actually miss them, like peanuts, crunchy.

I have looked in and around Tikal quite a lot, and I’ve noticed in one of its lower temples two stone masks that are the size, I mean height of about twelve-feet, caved rather well. The inhabitants do not know where they came from, but I do. They are some twenty-thousand years old, to be exact. They look exactly like our forefathers from Moiromma. Who were also involved with the Mu-men of the Pacific Continent some 15,000-years ago; until the Saturn and Mercurynites stepped in and took over. Oh well, they still got some of our blood I’m sure of that, and whoever they cohabited with, has also got our blood, a pinch of it anyway; I can see it in the flat faces of the pictures I’ve witnessed on the stones on this island called ‘Easter Island.’

[Nor Iron now lies back by two stone carvings called stala’s along a dirt roadside: he is weak from malaria, and time is short. One stala is a round wheel shaped stone disc, with writings on it, Maya stone art; the other more like a grave marker, or taking the shape of one; that is, rounded on the top, and more square on the bottom. Nor Iron moves the round one a bit, about a ton of weight, and hides behind it. His body is turning greenish. It is a hot, hot day, and his body which normally keeps it cool throughout its thickness and blood, is losing its capability to continue its work load in breaking down the heat, although he has learned how to deal with it quite well, his thick blood is curling and moving too slowly through his veins; the hotter it gets, the thicker it gets, the slower it works to protect him from his body going into shock; he is shivering with the fever, dehydrating fast.]

[Letter Two] I just woke up, no one saw me sleeping. I took a pencil from the campers when they went on their excavations. I do it all the time, and write, write whatever is on my mind. At night I listen to them talk, and learn about their ways. I only kill when I’m hungry, and I do it quickly, and usually when one of the natives or archeologists, or anthropologist, or geologist go for a swim; I hide in the bushes and wait until they go and excreta their waste. That normally puts them off guard. I have gained 200-pounds since I came to earth. I was only 250 pounds on Moiromma, quit thin for being over eight foot tall. [Pause to rest and look for something to eat.]

Nora saw a long slim rodent of sorts, about two-foot long, with beady eyes, and a long tail, almost as big as a small dog, husky looking, it was limping, as if it was in battle with another creature, and was almost slain, he grabbed it by its neck and with his powerful hands, yet weakening, broke its neck: then ripped open its belly, and started eating its insideschewing the raw meat, and spitting out the parts he didn’t’ like. Then he broke the spine of the creature, as if it was a wishbone, and sucked the marrow out of its spinal cord.

The Dying

“Everyone has mistaken me for a beast in the jungle,” he acknowledges out loud to himself, somewhat delirious. “Yes, O yes,” he continues behind the stone stala eating his long slim rodent, talking to himself as he writes: “I have been going crazy these last few years, no people, no one to talk to but the birds, and the plants. At first it didn’t’ bother me, but it does get to you after a while. I am a man with no doors to open, that is, none without having to be prepared for battle. I eat corpses day after day after day after daybut prefer fresh meat, warm blood. I creep up to some of the folks camping, behind them lurking in the thick of the jungle, down hidden in the underbrush, and when least expected, I pull them out from under their covers, or tents, or whatever. Before they know what is happening, they are next to dead. Sometimes this moon gives me away, some kind of refraction of light, not like on Moiromma, where our Asteroid-moon gives very little light from the core of our sun, or distant stars. Yes, you have to be swift, as swift as a lizard grabbing a fly with his magical tongue

I am clumsy for the most part, being so big and broad. I remember once a priest in the jungle here, nearby doing an exorcism on some native, thinking I was inside of him, I guess I was the demon he was so fearful of. It was kind of nice to have that kind of power, that fear power, that distance and approaching fear power: how would I ever fit myself into them small creatures called humans; my gosh, it is unthinkable, they give the devil too much credit, or them invisible demon. To my understanding these demons were created in what they call, or maybe what I call their pre-Satanic age, a long time ago. The humans have funny eyes, they can’t even see the demon, I can, I can see everything, and everybody. Sometimes the demon are standing a foot away from the humans and do not say a word. Sometimes they smell so bad I can’t believe they can’t smell them, thus knowing their presence is close. I have even talked to a few of the demon, such as one named: Gusoyn, a cocky sort of fella, but good looking for a demonic being I suppose, and muscular, he has a flat affectdoesn’t smile a lot, with a homosexual desire. Whereas, his friend is fat and ugly, and likes the native women; maybe their bisexual now that I think of it. In any case, they have always left me alone, not sure if I’m worth their time I think they think I’m too easy a pry. Anyhow, the priest died some years back: dying I think of what I am dying of, this disease from those damn mosquitoes. I wish Tfarcevol, our great thinker of our planet was here, and he’d give me a way out of this damn delirium of a disease.

His name, the priest that is, his name was Father Padro, not sure he had a last name, that is all I ever heard them call him; besides his name, he brought many people to his little church in the jungle. I avoid killing holy men, Tfarcevol, and those before him, the great thinkers, the seers if you will, the men who are of a high order of sprits, we never killed them before, why start now, that is what I’ve told myself all these years, and the priest was of that order I do believein essence we revered them, they had a special duty you know: a mission in life, and it is not wise to get in their way, I have never forgot them teachings. For there is but one God of all the living things, this I do know for certain, so again, if He sent him down to do a mission, who am I to get into his way: I am like a ice-worm to such a God.

All said and done, what I did do in place of killing him, and not for spite, but for hunger, I ate his sister. Funny thing happened, he went into a great and long depression thereafter, every night walking the jungle alone, without any weapons, and I saw him, but I never touched him. It bothered him immensely that I would not kill him.

Our great philosopher, Tfarcevol once said:

“We are people of Moiromma; we have inherited from our fathers the ability to die one hundred times, before the shock of real death takes us, kind of a preparation possibly for the real thing.”

I was never told the full story of our ancestors, so I will have to leave this for someone else to fill in. But as I was about to say, this is my second death coming up, I do hope I will reappear on Moiromma, although I like earths temperatures better, I do not like its inhabitants. Getting back to the old priest, to me his sister was no more than a perilous mishap, for him that I ate her in that he went into a prolonged melancholy of sorts: looking in the stars for reasoning, when there was just hunger, and availability. No one felt sorry for me roaming the jungles alone, so I can’t really feel sorry for him. Yes, I repeat myself, for me she was just a meal, and rich in taste, a bit bony, but I liked her bone marrow, and so forth and so on. And so you see we had in the jungle a holy church, which I must point out before I die, before I’m dead, yes dead as dead can be on this wizardly planet called Earth. And you see, as I lay dying here, no demon, no priest, no native, no anybody to comfort me, so I should feel for my victims? Not today friend, not today. I see now the demon I was talking about before, I think I mentioned his name, I forgot it now, I’m really weak, dying, he’s talking to the priest: yes, yes this demon is talking to that priest, the one who had a sister I ate. He is telling the Priest, who I think wants revenge, he is saying:

“I can kill the beast for you and you will be done with him, for a price.” You see, the demon knows I’m dying and is cleaver, making a deal where he does not have to do much, if any work. And the priest shouldn’t even be talking with the likes of himbut he is; but I still will not violate my values, and kill him, and I could leap up and do so.

Well, in a few minutes I’ll be dead anyhow. The priest is now paying him (I think later on he will regret what he did, he is mad at his God right now, the demon knows how and when to stick a throne in a persons side, and he’s walking over towards me nowhe has manifested himself fully, looks a ting ordinary, ugly, but some humans can be quite ugly also; he will see I am dead, and say: ’services rendered,’ and will please his masters in Hell and take away the special mission the priest was given by the Most Highcleaver, and the priest will most likely comment suicide feeling this is the worse thing he could have done. And the demon will have a party tonight, as I’ve often saw them do. Cleaver they are.

Dennis Siluk http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Tag: Short StoryShort Story

Share This

No Comments »

Port of Poseidonia: Grooming in Chicago
Special Chapter

In this Special Chapter, that was not suppose to be, but as you can see is, was added in-between two chapters, was because I had found out something Lilies had done in Chicago, and thought you might be interest in knowing, oh, it is not so much in the dark world, or even of Atlantis, but quite different, yet it all of course started because of, “The Port of Poseidonia,” had their been no Port, I’d not be able to write this short lived vignette. Part XVI

Dull and pretty, that was Annabel in a nutshell. She had been crying for days, possibly a suicide case. It would seem so, she cancelled all her appointments, avoided school and for this teenager, life seemed stressful, wanting to be popular, yet not knowing why she did, or why she wasn’t’.

Oh it was a little assignment for Ms Lilies from the angelic realm but she was willingly to take the mission on; even though she was not much older when she had taken her life to be with her first love, that being, the person who became King of Atlantis [see previous chapters; she thought that was the unpardonable sin, but it wasn’t]. And had she not done this, life may have played a sweeter roll for her, for he did survive the duet-suicide (as one of course knows if you look through Atlantis’ history). Oh she held no animosity toward Phrygian, her first and only love, it was just sad he didn’t make it to her realm, yet she never quite felt depressed about it, a fact is a fact, there are reasons we do not know involved her, so she had learned, I mean she was perhaps 12,000-years old now, not babe by any means; so it must be me feeling sad for her. In any case, here she was in Chicago, a city in a country called the United States, on the North American Continent.

Lilies showed up in Annabel’s bedroom, like a ghost almost, she just appeared out of nowhere, and when Annabel, seventeen years old saw this, her eyes opened wide like golf balls, and was about to scream, she lost her voice somehow before that could take place. And then she thought, thought Annabel, ‘what a pretty little angel,’ for Lilies was but five foot tall, and a beauty at such a height all the same, and with a golden heart (that last part she didn’t quite know yet). She then took in a deep breath, swallowed to make sure she was not dreaming, thus, shaking her head at the same time.

“Awe, yawyes, is this real?” she finally concluded.

“Awe, yawyes, it is real!” said the little angel, Lilies.
Everything was silent for the moment, no words. She was living with her father, her mother had passed on, had cancer, died some several years prior to this.

Lilies noticed she had a dull looking dress on, a gloomily one if anything. She had no makeup on either, had a frown on her face, her eyebrows were out of whack; her lips seemed pressed tight against one another no color to them, if not white from pressing them tightly, and her teeth looked a bit yellowish; her hair was in knotsah, what a mess.

“Images, you are a poor image for a beautiful teenageryou are a gloomy picture of a sad angel.”

“What!” she said angrily.

“You lack confidence, and how can anyone have confidence when they do not take care of them selves. Even angels got to comb their wings now and then (she chuckled at that as she said it).You’re weight is twenty pounds too much. In my day, it was good to have weight, to have a full shape, body that is, not too thin, and not to fat, yet I dare say, fat is better than bones. But you are too fat. Oh, this was not good, not good at all. Annabel wanted to swing at her, punch her in the nose, punch her lights out, but she knew she was a angel, and that was like punching in the wind, a waist of effort.

“So,” said the snobby part of her personality, “so what are you here for, to insult me?”

“No, no, no, my lovelyyet ugly duckling [A pause] I’m here to groom you back into the beautiful duckling you are suppose to be.”

Annabel thought about that, she was going into a depression, she kind of knew that. And was talking about different ways of how to get rid of her ugly life, –I mean, if this was life, and all life had to offer, why live it; to parade around as an ugly duckling, you know such things but you don’t want the echo back, and sometimes it is plain laziness.

2
Lessons

Said the little angel with hope in her eyes now, a cheerful smile, and for some reason, she was even more excited about this assignment than the one she previously had with Skullmas.

“Charm my dear is when you know it is all therethe way you want it to be.”

‘Well,’ thought Annabel, ‘that makes sense.’ Yet it was a mystery yet for here. You can say all you want, but she remained still an ugly duckling.

At that moment, Lilies took Annabel’s lovely full and red eyebrows, brushed them out, and trimmed them herself [said a prayer before doing it of course, a silent one, that she’d not make a mistake, and she didn’t].

“Part one complete,” she softly said, with a voice of accomplishment and confidence.

She then looked at her yellowish stained teeth, and pulled out a substance from inside her gown, and told Annabel to go brush them now. And Annabel did. When she was done, they shinned like polished ivory, glowing gold (ah, but the formula is not for sale though).

Then she cut and trimmed and shampooed her hair, placed it in an old style from the days of Atlantis, it looked as if she was a Greek statue at the Louver in Paris. Then for two weeks she danced and played with Annabel, getting her ready, her posture, her voice to speak a little slower, a bit softer. She had even brought back fabric and somehow made bright colored clothes for Annabel, it looked a bit like Atlanteon (but then that is what she knew best), or even a ting on the Greek side, with a slant toward Egyptian a necklace that was from, 600 BC, not fancy but colorful; but it gave a royal tone to everything, she looked sharp, and with a good taste to it. Showed her curves, for she had now lost fifteen pounds, and was of a beauty to be reckon with.

Said Lilies, on the last day of her assignment, “Your charm will come when you least expect it, like a bird perched on a branch, and everyone is looking at you; just remember you are the bird, and remain calm, and perched, everything else will fall in place in due time.”

“Oh, but you must not go now,” she said, said Annabel, about to cry.

3
Annabel

Annabel never seen the little angel again, nor did she commit suicide, nor did she not attend school, or college, or go on to marry a professional, but marry whom she wanted, for she herself became a professional. Had she seen Lilies again, possibly it would have reminded her of those youthful days, and Lilies knew that, and the memory of such events are stronger left alone, alone that is until it is her turn to become a little angel, for in the back of her mind, it was there, oh yes, it was her second quest in life. And she was hoping Lilies would be her guide when the day game.

Part Two
[Grooming in Chicago]

4
The Meeting

Phrygian had asked Lilies to meet him, knowing about her arrival back in Chicago, and she agreed. They met, in the sunny summer afternoon at Navy Pier, a kind of festive area, many kids around, a few rides, a tour bus going back and froth to all the popular spots in the city. They both sat on a bench overlooking the great lake area. Said Lilies to Phrygian with a graceful and fascinating settled tone to her voice:

“In your heart you think evil,” Phrygian hadn’t said a word yet, not one word, ‘why can she read my mind,’ he asked himself, now turning his head away from her. And he then talked to her about how much he had missed her not quite looking at her, and explained how his father had revived him after trying to commit suicide with her so many years ago. That he had wished he was never invigorated.

Said Lilies with a kind of good-natured frown, “If you call me your first and only true love, how is it you married, not once but twice?”

Phrygian did not have the words to carry on the dialogue. And dared not ask any decisive questions, save for the fact she had wisdom beyond his; for his way of thinking was mostly convoluted psychotic and abstruse genius if anything, and she knew this, and could lay him bare should he fight with words trying to make foolishness triumph over wisdom. In other words, he asked to have a meeting with her for false reasons, she only came to let him know that he was part of the ungodly order and she was in the divine order of the Son of God. The extent of this visit simply brought out the faith in ones order; he concluded he could not endure her wisdom in the measure she was willing to display it, and thus, left without a goodbye.

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Tag: Short StoryShort Story

Share This

No Comments »