Mesmerised by the Mystery

Alex was a rigger working fourteen to twenty weeks at a time marooned on a multistorey platform island, salt rusted and mollusc encrusted, pumping oil both day and night - the plant never skipped a beat. 

And, partly because there was nowhere to go to, the men settled into their relentless routines stationed atop the thumping waves and vibrating motors, with the noise being so impossibly loud, it may has well have been a silent retreat for the little conversation it afforded.

It changes a man to live at sea for any length of time: they become other-worldly by instinct, after a while.

When Alex had first met Romulus he fell for him instantly. Superficially one might say the attraction was little more than desire, given the beauty of the man-demon; however, in truth, it was Alex becoming of this man. 

In essence most love affairs begin with the ineffable sense of the unknown to be known - the enchanted promise of anticipation and the expectation of something absolutely thrillingly wonderful to come. But as it turned out this experience of getting to know Romulus had become as dark and painful as the hidden character himself.

And yet Alex stayed with him, abused, and often screwed, he came when he was called, tortured by a sadist who had no real affection for him, or anyone else at all.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Plasmic Voyages

It wouldn’t be Faerie without the well, mused Tu, peering down into its depths, wondering now how the goat had fared.

Practically every story he had heard of that described this place had at one time or another featured a well, or a lake - as an open vein to what lives beneath.

“I’ll let you into a little secret” came a voice inside his head … “wherever you are, whatever place you are in, water is the transport into another world: spirits commute through the oceans … at the lake … in your very cup. For where life floweth, floweth all!”

Tu only caught but a glimmer of meaning in this, but enough to sense his plasmic voyages spurned by greater tides, accelerating pathways; highways of being, where multitudes course the currents together … If he closed his eyes he could see intersecting channels of beings on the move, propelled forward in lanes and cosmic veins of purpose, to places and planes beyond.

The well had spoken to him and delivered up its secret.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Yawning Black Hole

Sydney Sime

Alex stubbed his toe - it was going to be one of those days. A black gremlin had placed the rock right before his left foot as he laboured slowly jogging up the final incline.

“Bugger” he said audibly. The small monster snickered and attempted it a second time, however Alex caught sight of the creepy creature and caught it by its hair - raised it high into the air and slapped it on its fat black rear end, catapulting him onto the other side of the road.

Romulus looked pleased with himself as he watched the drama unfold from a distance … he always savoured cruelties both large and small with equal pleasure.

The Demon-wraith Romulus appeared human, however, all of his vital organs had been surgically replaced with other ‘parts’ that better suited his needs convivial to his sinister indwelling character - he needed his body to be cooperating and coinciding with his dark soul within. The new heart he had just acquired complied and tolerated the pure evil that motivated its irregular rhythm. All of his other organs complied too. It was a marvel that they tolerated one another, or could co-exist at all.

Romulus had even gone to the trouble of grooming these body parts before they had come to be his; tempting their previous owners into various forms of abject sinfulness. The ‘donor’s' freshly acquired depravities delivered to Romulus the perfect blend of life and death for him to then utilise.

Romulus drew his power from anything and everything outside of himself - and so it was that if you could see deeply within the spiritual aspect of this demon you would find nothing but a yawning black hole.

This is one reason it was particularly difficult for Puck or any other searcher to locate him - for technically there was no ‘him’ to locate.

And yet, there was still a will within this character to survive, as well as an inherent coldness to warmth, a cunning instead of reason, an antithesis to love, and an envy that found its only happiness in the demise of others because of a well polished and seething jealousy towards the universal good.

Alex knew Romulus well - or at least well enough to tremble at the very sight of him. Romulus pointed at his car door as he sat down into an elongated sedan with a chauffeur at the front partitioned by glass.

Alex hesitated, he felt like he was going to be sick.

Thin eyes, thin nose, pallid complexion, blue white skin - tight too tight, slim too slim, with a diamond earring, perfect teeth, he appeared around forty. Light on his feet, T-shirt and jeans and a Chanel scarf, jeans tapered to crocodile shoes, with matching man bag. This was Romulus’s current appearance.

With his hand pressing on the hollow of Alex’s back the chauffeur guided the worried man into the back of the waiting car. Alex caught his foot in the door and the fat black hobgoblin could be seen pushing the door, jamming it tighter.

Romulus surprisingly stepped out of the sedan, and tapped on the front window, leaning into the front window he said to the uniformed driver, “you know what to do … I’ll walk awhile.”

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Seeing Things as They Are

Outlying the thorny reaches, troves of complacent burrows with grassy mounds of sweated dew and newly birthed foraging wildlife sang the morning’s incantation. “Sun’s up! Sun’s up!”

The creatures called to one another in admiration at this holy event “I saw it first!” a beetle exclaimed. The fox shook his head. “My sun!” he exclaimed jubilantly.

Jonathon had been awake before the dawn, practising his nail rounding in the half light - grinding tips and polishing heads - he kept a bag of these with him to take wherever he went as they were a quick sale to almost any farmer, builder or boatsman who needed them.

If the poor could afford just one nail, he would give them two for the same price, although usually he dispatched them in the dozens to those who could pay.

Seeing Tindle’s fat wife and stout children convinced Jon he must have been wrong about Zithia having being taken by his friend. He saw no purpose in confronting Tindle about it now, and his success made Jon feel all the more unworthy himself by comparison. A bag of nails was not much to show, although honest work it was, and he now felt too ashamed to exchange conversation about circumstances with him.

He also saw most clearly that while he had been untouched by time, Tindle’s world had been gathering its riches of experience.

Believing that Zithia had left him of her own will and was not taken, he said to himself: I shall return back to the forest to Isabelle … for want of another plan.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

The Nakedness of Nothingness

It is surely a terrifying experience to stare into a mirror and not be able to see your face looking back. It happens to all of the earthbound spirits whose lonesomeness drives them into the physical world, wherein they have not yet a body to clothe themselves with.

This nakedness of nothingness is confronting to such a wanderer - and many seek physical occupation because of it - momentarily or prolonged - imposing themselves in the willing and unwilling bodies of both person and animal from time to time.

This is one mystery amongst many - yet it is embedded here to explain the experience of displacement, such as it can be for the incarnate traveller in this world … for when the portal of heaven dried over and the lake failed to receive and deliver the human souls, a curious occurrence happened upon the earth: the experience of such terrifying nothingness came upon the ordinary men and women who walked the world with their bodies still intact, even though they had their connection to them, and were still very much incarnate. Yet when they looked into the mirror they saw not themselves, they could not see anything.

It is a horror of horrors, a depression deeper and darker - for usually the spirit of a man has a wholesome harmonious and caring relationship with their body, that is both sacred and joyful. If you lose this feeling of connection, your anchor is lost also.

The deprived and depraved then became searching for means to incarnate - all in a vain effort, for the body is not just a composite of blood and bone, it is personal.

When Violet, Peter, Leticia and Bryan went to extraordinary lengths to corrupt and consume others, they themselves had long lost their own reflection in the mirror - to be able to find it - and now through the most terrible of inoculations this disconnect was descending into the minds of the world at large.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

All Tragedy is Answered in the Heavens

Azlan speaks:

Tears are sacred - droplets upon the cheek are always mirrored by those, our angels.

Same it is with the fluid of the womb - tears from true sadness, a sadness that is pure, for all that cannot be changed, yet needs to be changed - this sadness reforms the world, as also the ethers above and below.

For mighty are the thoughts and wishes of men - and mightier still are the unrequited woes. Although it is little comfort to hear this my Son, tragedy, all tragedy, is answered in the Heavens, in the arms of death, to immediately console the suffering - whether inflicted from natural consequence - all pitiable consequence is refreshed and spent and made consolate in death.

Every honest soul is promised this: suffering no more.

For the only pain that continues on is with those who have inflicted themselves upon others.

Hell has no tears to save itself. Hell is the open wound of the soul who has no remorse.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series

Chip’n the Dale

Jon had the distinct feeling that he had lost most of his life to enchantment and otherworldliness.

His participation in the real world had been but a toe-dip compared to the spirit-world, and then later in the Faerie community of Sherwood Place.

His reluctance towards ordinary life was followed with some meaningful interludes with both spirit and fae - all the while his worldly life seemed to drift or die from him, breathless and wan.

And this was why the calling now to find Zithia persisted so strongly - even after all of this time - yes, he should confront Nathan and accuse him as was fit. Tindle was a disruptor who twice over had brought nothing but ill tides to Jon and soured his love for the world.

The coastal province had been renamed Chip’n the Dale by its Mayor and Chief proprietor: Nathanius Tindle.

Jon was dazed with the industry of the fryers - watching a stout woman who was wider than she was tall, bark orders to her ruddy offspring, and cursing the Celts who were replenishing the vats - silver scales on silver scales - the older boys trimming and scouring, slicing and filleting, then battering and frying.

Vapours of continental oil sweated their way from the cookery.

“Nathan’s not here” came the curt and hurried answer from his surly wife.

“If you please, where may I find him?” Jon asked, sampling a chip from the floor. One of the little ones had dropped it as they stumbled past.

“Don’t know, don’t care” came the curt reply.

“Fair enough dear woman” and as he turned to go, one of the depositing fishermen clipped his shoulder and motioned that they should meet outside.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series