On the Wings of Hope : Prose

- Come, sit down here … yes, yes … between these interpolating light beams. And this bowl will be put here, in the center. Keep remember … when I start a ritual – don’t move from your place a single bit. It will be better for you to close your eyes completely …. Energetic streams will become very intensive, they can bring down an aura segment if you move suddenly. Is everything clear ? All right, let’s do it !

I stood nearby and started reading phrases taken out from some ancient doctrine – their original meaning got was lost in the depths of centuries very long time ago, but they still sounded very well … I would even say they sounded quite magically.

After a few minutes I sharply hitched my head up and rolled up my eyes, having upraised up own hands. Continuing my passes and uterine bawling out, I started bypassing my … client ... around.

Soon, soon … several more minutes … to lull vigilance … to force him to lost himself …

Secretly taken knife I reliably hide in a side pocket.

Suddenly, without opening his eyes, the man said : “Well … and why is that there is still nothing happening ? No illuminations … sort of enchanting fireworks … only some silly mantras from Bkhagavat-Geeta, forgotten by all … to tell the truth, I am already starting to be disappointed in you … mister … magician.”

He said the last word so frankly mockingly that I almost was distracted from the process of mantra-speaking.

- Be quiet ! You will break the ritual ! – I almost shouted.

- And it seems to me that you have already broken it, mister … magician. Broken very long ago … you and all your offsprings.

Something evil, something terrifying cut through the voice of this person, and all of a sudden I noticed with dread that mentioned ill-starred smile starts blurring on his face once again …

Now, now or never, while I am still having a chance ! I snatched out a knife, and have almost jumped on that mysterious stranger (who have obviously understood all falseness of my game), but …

- Fool ! Pity fool ! Have you not yet understood of who is standing before you ?!

Suddenly outlines of stanger’s figure began changing … it started growing more and more … and during that moment something with extreme force struck me sideways and flung away, depriving of hope and salvation.

Already fainting, I managed to behold my transformed stranger – and the horror, wild, eternal, never-ending dread of understanding extinguished its last bits …

* * *

Am I dead or alive ? Was reincarnated and destructed ? I don’t know…

Everything that I remembered – were sticky, viscous, become infinite instants of horror, fear and pain.

All I could not forget were words – words, with peals of thunder and stale ashes striking me in the face and ears …

- You have ruined my deed, pity fools ! They … these creatures calling themselves reasonable people, you must have made them helpless before my false prophets … you must have weaken their reason, their feeling of reality … you should lead them in the other imagined virtual world, invented by me …

You didn’t make it ! Instead, you became sort of city clowns so that even the smallest of these creatures gradually started laughing at you and mocking you! Were you really so blind that you didn’t see it, having sunk in your thirst of wealth ? Have you all, my called ones, become so blind ?!

And now … now ! – it seemed that my consciousness won’t sustain the anger which has been poured into these words and will forever leave my now useless body, - my false prophets cannot afflict them ! They are unable to confuse their minds, they can’t distort His word ! These beings are simply mocking you !

F-f-o-o-o-o-l-l-l-l !

But now you are mine – forever mine … until His warriors won’t invade my kingdom … All of you are forever mine! M-m-m-i-i-i-n-n-n-e-e-e !

Pain, never-ending, unstoppable stream of pain have fallen down on me like a stone bulk, killing the last remains of hope and taking the life away.

The last thing I remember, before the remnants of my consciousness were burned out by this fire of tortures, was the long, terrible, almost never-ending falling in the Lowest Layers of this very … Astral world.

18.09.2012

Memory of the millenniums

Small nomadic tribe. Hunting and living, living and hunting on each new terrestrial haven. But they were short – for vastness of steppes awaited them, they were short – for battles were inevitable.

Battles of equestrian orders. A lethal enemy’s weapon - long bent sticks, firing killing needles. His companions died every day … he learnt to get used to it, he had to. In peaceful times the tribe expanded and spread again – ready for new battles, new life and new victories.

This was his life. In this world and in this time.

 * * *