The Tales of Glory City: “Lair of Dust”
by
S. Gonzalez
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Deep inside the lair of the Hermit of Dust; hidden within his arcane collection, is the ultimate secret, a treasure of wisdom often called the gem of philosophers. The powerful artifact, especially to masters of that tiny planet, held away from the eyes of the sensible and prying world. Why would the Hermit strive to keep the masses ignorant you may ask? Humanity is often plagued with fools, some with means to unravel life itself. He has always been here, surrounded by endless dust in the air, witnessing events through the eyes of others. One day someone will ask "the Question" of him, if ever such a mortal could safely crossover into his realm. That is one of the dust-hermit's musings; how a 3rd dimensional mind could survive intact, from experiencing a 5th dimensional state of being. There are many quantum jumps of awareness, from that small blue planet to the utter infinity of Space.
The cavernous dwelling has but one window, yet that window shouldn't be able to view anything. This cavern is nothing more than solid rock or beyond that, The Voids ethereal plane! This peculiar window constantly shifts it's viewing according to a will all it’s own, so the Hermit speculates. Always moving across Earth, showing him signs of despair, joy and often times nothing but the blanket of stars above them. The only illumination comes from simple fixtures located along side the writing covered rock walls. The authors of those cryptic text, ever continual changing and scrawled on the ceiling, glow with a pulsating crimson hue. The Hermit looks on such things and chuckles under his breath, words are often nonsense when compared to truth. Wordsmiths and Scientists, a civilization now gone from influence, leaving him with a place to pray. The Mirrored Room, in it's gleaming and polished appearance , hides a fact: no dust can fall there. He keeps it very clean and stays out of it whenever he can, only using the room if great need called for it. That room was designed to cause madness and to extract enlightenment at a heavy cost. With every second that ticks inside, the victim is engulfed with unspeakable horror. There are many who have ripped their eyes out to escape! Knowledge at the cost of pain, the worst of it, that the poor damned fool could see every step of their dismay. Like all tools of Power, he keeps them at arm’s length, such as calamity will allow.
The world changes and stays the same for him, a constant gardener of history and experience. His vigil is one fated to end in darkness and then renewed in the World of Ideas. There is a poem that he uses to describe our world, telling of all who play a part in everything that is ever made. To some , the experience in the poem is called Life, as it is found in nature. To the Select, it’s called Perception Infinite; and they are the holders of Perceived Knowledge. “So they say the Traitors of spirit, that the Gods bring forth lightning? So we will make our own dimension and make gods of ourselves as well, our swords are our souls, that even in death, we may spit in the eye of the Void.” They laughed, as their dark science merged with twisted occult infusion. Those fools with great power laughed, as their works tore across space and time, ripping the Vail. The chaotic Sphere was the result of such foolishness, kept in check by the Watcher, ever vigilant that one day it's effects do not destroy the miniscule life down below. That gleaming green orb of Chaos tucked away safely within the rock of the hermit's lair. Suddenly his lair grows cold at the thought of such a hellish creation. Where were the voices of reason back then? The hermit walks towards the window, his simple earthen robe dragging across the sandy floor. His weary eyes still envision that past civilization’s history clearly.
"They gave themselves to darkness in the thousands that day, so many died for no better reason than to spite the Unknown. How were they to know the Infinite’s response to such treason?" The words spoken from his lips ignite the writing on the walls. Each letter corresponds , in bright flashing blue light, along with his retelling.
"Across the tattered dreamscape of Perception, the victorious armies of mislead martyrs, tore the minds of millions within horrific nightmares! That cult was of course banished into the Void, where the darkness perfects them to this day, undying and perfect in it‘s evil. "A gust of wind from nowhere and everywhere billows across the tomb like room. “And what is evil? Is it another term for destruction or is it simply an action against order?”, he whispers to himself. The Window beckons as it always does, it calls to the aged man within him to just rest. Now safety away from Chaos’s reach he glances at the many faces and pictures the Window has to offer. Memories flood the Dust-hermit, taking him across the fourth dimension, to retouch on his past. He flies in that secret space of his soul, using it to converse with the unknown. The song of paradise comes to his lips and it softly sings in the voices of his past:
"In Paradox,
there are many rooms,
epic in size,
as they ride the currents of time,
We are merely characters,
telling our stories,
inside the mansion,
infinite and always in bloom,
Paradox the palace,
of many rooms."
His memories are all that stay with him now, in this place cut off from time. Often when the season was right, he could slip back into Paradox. The rooms are truly all different, uniquely built by every character's story. There are some in Paradox that help each other, some that continue their evil beyond the grave. There are those who call it hell, others insist it's heaven.There are also hunters, slayers of heroes or villains. He could remember best the one who wore a golden mask. His tale was yet to be told, because if you die in Paradox as some often do, you return to the World with a yearning. The memories of traveling across realities are often erased. Only to be restored back in Paradox. That was the insanity of it's design, how often had the Dust-hermit been jumping these passageways of space within time? In the World, you are a worker. Life is balanced to a point regulated by forces unknown.Your character improves until you find your way, even in death , back into Paradox.
Back into the mansion of many rooms.
To be continued....
The Tales of Glory City: “The Blake Family Incident”
by S.Gonzalez
S. Gonzalez
Deep inside the lair of the Hermit of Dust; hidden within his arcane collection, is the ultimate secret, a treasure of wisdom often called the gem of philosophers. The powerful artifact, especially to masters of that tiny planet, held away from the eyes of the sensible and prying world. Why would the Hermit strive to keep the masses ignorant you may ask? Humanity is often plagued with fools, some with means to unravel life itself. He has always been here, surrounded by endless dust in the air, witnessing events through the eyes of others. One day someone will ask "the Question" of him, if ever such a mortal could safely crossover into his realm. That is one of the dust-hermit's musings; how a 3rd dimensional mind could survive intact, from experiencing a 5th dimensional state of being. There are many quantum jumps of awareness, from that small blue planet to the utter infinity of Space.
The cavernous dwelling has but one window, yet that window shouldn't be able to view anything. This cavern is nothing more than solid rock or beyond that, The Voids ethereal plane! This peculiar window constantly shifts it's viewing according to a will all it’s own, so the Hermit speculates. Always moving across Earth, showing him signs of despair, joy and often times nothing but the blanket of stars above them. The only illumination comes from simple fixtures located along side the writing covered rock walls. The authors of those cryptic text, ever continual changing and scrawled on the ceiling, glow with a pulsating crimson hue. The Hermit looks on such things and chuckles under his breath, words are often nonsense when compared to truth. Wordsmiths and Scientists, a civilization now gone from influence, leaving him with a place to pray. The Mirrored Room, in it's gleaming and polished appearance , hides a fact: no dust can fall there. He keeps it very clean and stays out of it whenever he can, only using the room if great need called for it. That room was designed to cause madness and to extract enlightenment at a heavy cost. With every second that ticks inside, the victim is engulfed with unspeakable horror. There are many who have ripped their eyes out to escape! Knowledge at the cost of pain, the worst of it, that the poor damned fool could see every step of their dismay. Like all tools of Power, he keeps them at arm’s length, such as calamity will allow.
The world changes and stays the same for him, a constant gardener of history and experience. His vigil is one fated to end in darkness and then renewed in the World of Ideas. There is a poem that he uses to describe our world, telling of all who play a part in everything that is ever made. To some , the experience in the poem is called Life, as it is found in nature. To the Select, it’s called Perception Infinite; and they are the holders of Perceived Knowledge. “So they say the Traitors of spirit, that the Gods bring forth lightning? So we will make our own dimension and make gods of ourselves as well, our swords are our souls, that even in death, we may spit in the eye of the Void.” They laughed, as their dark science merged with twisted occult infusion. Those fools with great power laughed, as their works tore across space and time, ripping the Vail. The chaotic Sphere was the result of such foolishness, kept in check by the Watcher, ever vigilant that one day it's effects do not destroy the miniscule life down below. That gleaming green orb of Chaos tucked away safely within the rock of the hermit's lair. Suddenly his lair grows cold at the thought of such a hellish creation. Where were the voices of reason back then? The hermit walks towards the window, his simple earthen robe dragging across the sandy floor. His weary eyes still envision that past civilization’s history clearly.
"They gave themselves to darkness in the thousands that day, so many died for no better reason than to spite the Unknown. How were they to know the Infinite’s response to such treason?" The words spoken from his lips ignite the writing on the walls. Each letter corresponds , in bright flashing blue light, along with his retelling.
"Across the tattered dreamscape of Perception, the victorious armies of mislead martyrs, tore the minds of millions within horrific nightmares! That cult was of course banished into the Void, where the darkness perfects them to this day, undying and perfect in it‘s evil. "A gust of wind from nowhere and everywhere billows across the tomb like room. “And what is evil? Is it another term for destruction or is it simply an action against order?”, he whispers to himself. The Window beckons as it always does, it calls to the aged man within him to just rest. Now safety away from Chaos’s reach he glances at the many faces and pictures the Window has to offer. Memories flood the Dust-hermit, taking him across the fourth dimension, to retouch on his past. He flies in that secret space of his soul, using it to converse with the unknown. The song of paradise comes to his lips and it softly sings in the voices of his past:
"In Paradox,
there are many rooms,
epic in size,
as they ride the currents of time,
We are merely characters,
telling our stories,
inside the mansion,
infinite and always in bloom,
Paradox the palace,
of many rooms."
His memories are all that stay with him now, in this place cut off from time. Often when the season was right, he could slip back into Paradox. The rooms are truly all different, uniquely built by every character's story. There are some in Paradox that help each other, some that continue their evil beyond the grave. There are those who call it hell, others insist it's heaven.There are also hunters, slayers of heroes or villains. He could remember best the one who wore a golden mask. His tale was yet to be told, because if you die in Paradox as some often do, you return to the World with a yearning. The memories of traveling across realities are often erased. Only to be restored back in Paradox. That was the insanity of it's design, how often had the Dust-hermit been jumping these passageways of space within time? In the World, you are a worker. Life is balanced to a point regulated by forces unknown.Your character improves until you find your way, even in death , back into Paradox.
Back into the mansion of many rooms.
To be continued....
The Tales of Glory City: “The Blake Family Incident”
by S.Gonzalez
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The little girl is screaming, her wails matching the sirens of the ambulance hurling it’s way downtown. Her small body writhing in an unseen agony, blood covers her mouth from the unceasing flow from her nose. The sedatives Frank injected seemed to not be easing her pain or quieting the assault her tiny body was going through. ”Lisa can you hear me sweetie? I need you to talk to me, tell me what’s going on.” His voice was calmly hectic, trying to ease his own nervousness as the vitals registered off the grid. Nobody could have lasted with their blood pressure spiking like that! Her eyes rolled as the sweat caused her hair to stick alongside her face. “Breathe honey,” looking back at the driver, his face pinched with worry.
“Doug! Dammit are we almost there? It feels like she is about to…” Her tiny hand grasped his tightly and looked into her no still eyes. Frank actually startled at what he saw there, twin black pools peering at him. How could that be he wondered? Those tiny pupils devoid of light or color, that it just reached into his very soul. “Lisa?” he whispered, she smiled a wicked grin and vomited bile and blood on to the front of his blue jumpsuit. The ambulance finally reached the hospital, the attendant nurses and staff hauled her gurney through the ER. Frank couldn't move from the small cabin, still covered in the filth his mind stuck on those nightmarish eyes of the little girl.
Earlier, when they had received the call to the Blake household, Frank and Doug were just enjoying coffee outside the hospital. Doug being an older and respected paramedic was regaling Frank with stories from his years driving. “I've seen some weird shit friend. Let’s just hope you never get to witness half of what has happened in the last five years. That’s was the moment the call came, a disturbance at a suburban home only twenty minutes away. Frank smiled knowing that Doug would get them there at half that. The six years as a Army medic helped Frank with his current job, blood and guts didn't unnerve anymore. There was nothing that could prepare him for what was at that house. He witnessed something sinister in ways no maimed body could prepare him for.. They actually managed to beat the cops there, inside the modest white and blue home, the lights flickered bright white to a dimmed yellow. Doug knocked heavily on the door as screams of distress echoed from inside. A tired and bruised man answered the door ushering them through the entrance. His clothes seem to have been ripped and disheveled as if attacked by a man much larger than the 5’ 10 who ushered them inside. “What’s going on sir?” Frank went over to the living room as Doug continued talking to Mr. Blake. “My daughter Lisa, there’s something wrong with her and my wife is trying to…”
A shrill scream cut through the air and all three men ran to the back of the house. Inside the pink room, filled with dolls and posters of unicorns was a scene of pure chaos. Shelves swiped clean; broken glass unicorns on the floor, books and destroyed dolls surrounded their daughter. She appeared feral, teeth bared and hands chocking the mother in the corner of the room. A ghastly scene in such a pink and pretty room of a six year old.
Doug was first to pull the little girl off as Frank helped Miss. Blake off the floor. Her face, beautiful once, now ash white, bruised and a swollen cut lip. Her brown eyes gazed into his for help from this confusion. “I don’t know what’s going on..my baby, she just attacked me. I came in here when she started crying but..but..oh God what’s happening?!” She went to her knees sobbing loudly, Frank ran over to Doug as the little girl struggled in his hold. “Lisa, it’s okay they’re taking you to get better sweetie.” Mr. Blake could only speak from behind the thrashing child as Frank ran for the emergency gurney. Strapping her down was hard, she spit and yelled at them, for such a little girl her strength was unbelievable. The neighbors were gathered outside the home as they both rushed her inside the ambulance. Miss Blake and her teenage son stood in the doorway as the father ran to the Range Rover to follow them. The police arrived and began ushering people back while two of the five officers went towards the house to speak to the mother. All the lights returned to normal Frank could see as the shut the doors and sped for Glory General Hospital.
“Hey Frank? Frank buddy you okay?” His voice came from behind his memories, and he noticed the look of concern on the older man’s face. Being larger both in height and weight, his dark skin beaded with sweat Doug’s grip on his shoulder squeezed when no response came. Frank was still in the back of the cabin. Covered in blood and vomit, not trusting his voice to answer his perplexed partner. He lead him out of the ambulance cabin towards the ER doors and into the employee lounge.”She’s gonna be okay man, the doctors have her now.” He offered him a towel and fresh jumpsuit along with soap, Frank looked out the window to the ER towards the drapes covering the frantic doctors helping the now very still little girl. He showered and redressed, once back into the ambulance Doug only gave him a Coke and pulled out into the street for another call. “You going to be okay Frank?” He looked over the driver and just nodded his head. Inside his mind Lisa’s cold black eyes still haunted him and he knew that he would never be okay again.
In between the runs, he went to the nurses counter to check on the little girl from earlier. The nurse only shook her head and pulled out the chart. “That one gave us so much trouble.” When they had put her in the ICU, readings kept jumping from flat-line to normal condition, confusing as to how healthy she appeared. Right as they thought she was sedated enough, she began screaming again.They had her out cold, but it took a huge adult dose just to do it. “Poor darling, I can’t believe the docs are going to let her go tomorrow morning. They’re still running test, it looks like anything nothing is physically wrong.” She took both his hands in her soft hands, just like mom used to do. Nurse Sara always did have a soft spot for him. He’s been interested a few times at the voluptuous woman, her winks going down the hall always made him wonder. Sometimes commenting to her that a date or two would change her mind on Hispanic men. “How you holding baby? You look like hell.” Sara was a sweet woman, transferred from Atlanta months back she didn't hide the fact she found him handsome. She had long brown hair , curvy figure and deliciously smelling milky skin. Looking in to her green eyes he could only give a small smile. “I’m doing okay, just a rough day and looking forward to the weekend.” She leaned over the counter, looking around to see if anyone saw them drawing him forward. “Let me know if you want to get together on Saturday, have my number honey.” Taking the small note she slipped into his pant pocket, his cheeks flushed a bit. Frank only took her hand again and kissed it. “Just need a little sleep darling, I will call you. Have a good night.” She blushed and sat back down as he walked over to the elevators. Suddenly Lisa’s darkened eyes flashed in his mind, he flinched at the opening of the doors, while a nurse and doctor stepped out. Catching his breath inside and riding up he gazed at the reflection of the haggard look on his face.
Arriving at the children’s wing ,he inquired to where Lisa Blake’s room was. Knocking on the door it was once again opened by Mr. Blake who looked extremely beaten down. “Yes?” Frank straightened out his uniform, “Hi Mr.Blake I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself but my name’s Frank Wright, I drove your daughter here.” Opening the door he could see into the cold room, she looked so peaceful, Frank only wondered what could have happened. “Oh yes I remember, thank you so much for all your help. She seems to be doing better, would you like to come in?” He lead him to her bedside, with all the blood and sweat removed, she looked like a normal girl just sleeping. Yet as he watched her breathe, her screams still echoed in his ears. “I’m glad she’s okay Mr. Blake.” He scoffed, “As much as we’ve been through, you can call me Ulysses now.” Frank sat down with him away from the bed and refused the offer of ice water. “Ulysses if you don’t mind me asking, what happened tonight at your home?” Sighing he gazed at Lisa’s sleeping form and shrugged.
“I don’t know Frank, one minute I’m getting home and getting ready for dinner and the next my wife hears Lisa crying in her room. She’s been having nightmares and for some reason is always taking naps. We have had to wake her up so many times I thought about just giving her coffee, but of course I wouldn't.”
He sipped the water and collected his thoughts,” The dreams have always been bad but tonight it was like something else was there in place of my little girl. My wife has no idea what triggered her to go after her. Just seeing my little one choking my wife is something I won’t forget. We are looking into therapy once she leaves the hospital but I’d hate to think it’s a brain tumor or anything.” He started to sob, holding his face in his hands Ulysses couldn't keep his shoulders from shuttering with choked back tears. Frank reached out to comfort him when he held his head up and wiped off the tears. “I don’t know what to do except just be here for her when she wakes. Thanks again for everything you've done but I think it’s time I tried going to sleep too.” Frank nodded and started for the door as he did he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. He wrote his number on the notepad by the door and handed it to Mr. Blake,” I’m not a doctor but I hope we can at least be friends, here’s my number call me if you need anything Ulysses.” He warily smiled and nodded shaking Frank’s hand before closing the door.
Later on that night after an assault at a bar, a heart attack at a local retirement home along with two overdoses in the lower south-side of the city, their shift finally had ended. At home, Frank couldn't sleep even after consuming an entire twelve pack to himself. Doug had left to his apartment after his one hour nap on the couch. On getting up he was surprised that Frank was even awake. “Thanks for letting me crash, guess that beer and a shitty night makes me sleepy.” Frank stood at the window overlooking his apartments plaza, gazing at nothing at all. It was tearing at his mind what had happened with Lisa.
“Something is eating at me about tonight Doug, I don’t think I can sleep.” His partner only stared at him with worry and shook his head as he went over to the window. “I can understand if you’re shaky man, that little girl really fucked you up. She’s okay now and we did our jobs just let it go. Tomorrow is another day and trust me there is a lot worse out there.” Doug’s pinched face reminded him of what a raisin would look like frowning. What was happening in this city he thought. “I’m okay, just need to get some sleep…” He just nodded and picked up his jacket on the way out. “Well you hold in there Frank and give Lolita a call I bet she can work out all those nerves.” He belly laughed as Frank chuckled leading him to the door, “I’m sure she can. You just get home safe buddy.” As the door closed and his shaky fingers locked it, the cold sweat came to his forehead. What was going on in this city? Hours later he still stared out the window as the sun began to raise and his fears only growing.
To be continued...
