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My name to me is of no consequence, and I shudder to think of the implications of telling it to you, for you see it assumes this will be read by another person. From my cabin here in the woods I had hoped to find sanctuary from human intrusion. I had hopes that my war with my creator could go on undisturbed, but The Force that created all that we know insists upon revealing my folly. Occasionally, this Force allows a lost soul such as yourself to enter my woods. How sad that with each word I set forth, I deal with hypocrisy. The mere act of writing implies hope and value in my existence. Such vanity is the razor's edge of madness and faith.
You are not of my woods. You will not see my heart without seeing your speciousness against it. For this reason, I give you the comfort of the cabin where you can find what you are looking for. Take care, for many of the other's that have come here, have failed to return the same.
* * * * *
One such time, I sensed a presence in the woods. It was a young woman. Obviously heartbroken and disillusioned, she had come to the woods to escape. She never knew what she was escaping to, or how, or why she had come to these woods.
It was late in the summer when she came to the edge of the river that winds its way through the woods. From my vantage point in the shadows of the trees I watched as she undressed. I feared that she was entertaining suicidal thoughts. Thankfully as I watched, I could feel the river cleanse her.
* * * * *
The cool water felt refreshing as it splashed down her skin. The goose bumps felt titillating, rather than irritating. She found it strange that a shower could be as such, here in nature, and so different from home. It was neither chore nor luxury but a cleansing.
The river flowed with such innocence, as to make everything within sound of it, relax. She bathed in it. She enjoyed the moment and the problems left behind to wash away with the water. Leaning against a smooth black rock along the side of the fall, she opened her mouth to drink of the water, giggling as the water relentlessly splashed about her face.
The sound of her own laughter startled her. It had been long since she heard it's sound, and it emanated with the innocent sounds of forgotten childhood. She thought it odd to have forgotten how to laugh aloud. It seemed easy, and so deeply enjoyable.
Drifting back into the pool beneath the fall, she tried to lose herself again within the water. This time the moment she found was erotic, and incomparable to the innocence that she desired to feel. She still laughed, but this time it was a more knowing laugh. A laugh that started in her throat and ended in a smile of subtle sarcasm. It was a smile that exposes itself when ones' feelings been found out, but humility refrains the lips from thoroughly expressing.
I remember wishing I was an artist. It was a scene I wanted to capture and share. Even if the picture was painted; with the green hues and light breaking through, all the reds of the sun, all the subtleties of the brush and trees rising out of the water, all of the motion of the quiet crystal water, all the cool rushing of falls, and the beauty of this girl enjoying the pure beauty and solitude, there would only be a few who would bother to look at the painting. Fewer yet would feel it.
She stepped out of the waterfall and paused to enjoy the sunset. A cooler breeze gently told her to get dressed. She pictured a glass of white wine, as she looked at her toes on the carpet of bright moss beneath the clear water. It was then that she sensed just how far away she had run. A sense of panic tempered by defeat went through her as she dressed.
The extremity of her emotions rushed through her and the hush of the waterfall drowned out her pain. She fell to her knees and sobbed into her hands after dressing. It was then I made her aware of my presence. I could see and feel her mind spin upon my intrusion. She passed out, and I carried her toward the cabin.
She began to revive as we made our way down the path. Her eyes tried to focus at the small cabin gathering evening light. I listened to the trees as they whispered with the wind in anticipation of the night. She said nothing. She felt helpless. When we crossed the threshold, she looked at me. I could only find confusion in her eyes.
I set her upon a bench as I set pillows and blankets upon the floor in front of the rustic fireplace. She arose from the bench a staggered to the doorway as I lit the fire. She stopped at the door and looked back at me searching for an explanation.
"I don't believe you would understand if I explained to you where you are, or why you are here. For tonight I will tell you that when you will dream I will be there too. There in your dreams, you will be able to see the truths you hide from. I cannot say what will be when the morning comes, for I do not know. This cabin and the warmth of this fire is all the comfort I am allowed to provide.
I left the cabin to sleep under the stars and mentally shaking my fist at my maker. I knew by the woman's distraught condition, that the visions this woman would bring to me this night would show me a world I could not influence, nor tolerate. I would be forced to submit to the world to which I was bound.
From the heavens I heard a voice, Sleep Prometheus, and see what you have done, find the comfort of your cabin and fire.
* * * * *
As sleep came over the two of us I could see her journeying through time within her mind. She was searching for how she had come to be here. I saw her learning for years. Learning so much, she became separate from the world around herself. She became lonely with knowledge.
When she applied her knowledge there came many rewards, but still she felt incomplete. Her need for a child could not be compensated through her labors. I saw her fall in love with a man of equal talents. I saw the child of their creation awaken inside her, but the world they had created together began to fall apart. Resentments arose. In the end, she accepted walking away from there labors to raise the child.
Their world continued to crumble, and her man took their child and left her alone. With all of her labors gone, the emptiness within her pulled her to these woods.
It was then I appeared in her dream. I was taken back by my own appearance, for I was neither male nor female. I had a beautiful female body with a very male phallus. Our eyes swelled up with tears. She walked to me and comforted me in an embrace that could only be consummated with a kiss. As our eyes spoke of love and safety the cabin door blew open with an explosive sound. As if drawn by a magnet we walked, through the portal.
Upon entering the trees, the wind lifted me and threw me onto the ground a few yards away. Great gusts of wind scattered green leaves and I found myself crying helplessly within her vision.
The wind and my cry seemed not to touch her. Her hair was unmoved by the wind. Her face was unchanged by my tears. She walked toward me. Her eyes appeared to glaze as she came to stand at my feet. . Her expression changed to helplessness. She fought against unseen forces as they seemed to push and pull her on top of me. The wind whirled our consciousness with the green leaves.
She managed to utter, "What are you?"
I replied in a stoic tone that sounded erotic in the midst of my confusion.
"I am whatever you need me to be."
I found myself tonguing the outlines of her breast. My hand explored her body with massaging strokes. My body began to move without my awareness as moans escaped my lips. She grabbed at my feminine breast, breaking skin and tearing away flesh. I felt my phallus swell. I watched as if detached as I grabbed her by the hair and forced the erection into her mouth. Her eyes looked up at me like a cat that had found its prey, and viciously bit into the transgressor.
She stood up with blood on her face, looking like a victorious warrior. She looked down at my penis dangling by a single tendon and ripped it off with a malicious tug. I felt the pain tear through me. I watched on helplessly as she shoved the bloody phallus deep inside herself.
The wind suddenly ceased and the blood disappeared. The phallus reappeared upon her. She bent down and licked my breasts each stroke healing the wounds.
We locked in a deep embrace. Our bodies melded together with each subtle movement. Every gyration dissipated a limb until there was a single form left lying in the leaves, unconscious.
I awoke to the first rays of the sun to see her leaving the cabin nude. The panic in her eyes that forced me to look at the penis she strangled in her hands.
Her face full pain now lifted to the sky and screamed out with a confusion that echoed far into the hills, "YOU'VE IMPRISONED ME!!!"
She fell to the ground in tears. Her hand still strangled the erection. Suddenly she stopped. Calm came to her face. She turned to look at me.
“We imprison ourselves.” I said with as much care as I could. The visions of the evening raced within my mind like demons.
She started to laugh. A laugh that started in the throat and ended in a smile of subtle sarcasm. Her laughter was edged with a knowing madness as she ran away from these woods.
I have no desire to leave the woods. Though occasional intrusions contaminate the essence of my thoughts, I must confess that they do give me an energy that would be lacking otherwise. The intrusions stab out at me like the vultures, disallowing my goal of non-existent existence. Why are so many tortured by this concept? The sedentary do not argue, break laws, or impose themselves upon others. Yet, as always, humanity stays in opposition to peaceful existence.
* * * * *
One cool bright spring morning the woods filled with the aroma of freshly washed pine. The sun brightened a small clearing, revealing an amazing sight. A young boy about five years of age lay back in the tall grass. A wide grin spread across his face as the sunlight warmed his face and arms. Eyes shut; he looked as if the world were hitching a ride on his back as he traveled around the sun. He was free falling through the cosmos.
I watched him there for hours until I saw that I was taking the appearance of a young boy. I walked cautiously into the clearing.
It became quickly evident that both the boy and I were mute. Communication was not difficult as we threw handfuls of grass at on another. We examined rocks, and studied a gliding eagle with immense pleasure. Then while looking in the brambles, (for what we did not know nor care), he came upon the brick. It stunned him. He brought it back to the clearing with the other pile of interesting items we had collected and compared them. The brick mesmerized him. Its square corners and three smooth wholes were different from the others. It was as if the whole universe was contained within the brick. The rest of the world disappeared for him.
The sun began to set and I playfully threw a pebble at him to get his attention. There was no response. I went up and nudged his arm. With a sudden attack, he turned wielding the brick and smashed it on my head. The form of the boy I lay still in the dimming light of the clearing as I observed the scene from the brush.
He stared at the brick. His fingers painted the brick with the blood. He took the brick with him as he left the woods.
Knowledge of my guilt is my only proof that I was once innocent.
Here in the woods' one almost believes that innocence can be found again. Few are they who after having chased a rainbow, would be caught attempting it again. It is in the act of being caught at such folly that innocence is lost. In a sense we cannot lose our innocence. We deny its presence to protect ourselves from the pain it produces.
* * * * *
I was enjoying a warm summer day. One of many days that had gone by in solitude, when I felt her intrude into my woods. I had to journey over numerous hills and valleys to find her. I came to the top of the final hill and looked into the once dark forest. I could only smile at what I beheld.
An Enchantment had come to these woods. Their usual gloom was dispelled. The trees swayed in a gentle green dance, and I could hear the song of wood nymphs and other enchanted creatures going about their play.
As I approached, I could feel myself changing. My waist and legs became those of a goat's. My torso grew muscular. My beard and hair grew long. I shivered at my role, and was intimidated by my sexual drive and equipment.
I entered the wood the wood nymphs and fairies scattered. I had to suppress the urge to chase after and rape them. A cherub flew down to me and said,
" How sad this silliness must be,
follow the path,
- be wary your wrath,
for her heart is still true and free. "
My nostrils filled with smells that fueled my hunger for this woman. I had never met a woman that could fill me with sensuality I now possessed. I came to the end of the path and found a deserted church. The door hung by a single hinge. In confusion I looked to the heavens.
See what you have done Prometheus, a familiar voice came down from the heavens.
I entered and saw no one. As I walked toward the altar, I came upon her. The light from the broken stain glass window showered her long white nightgown with warmth while she slept upon a pew. I wondered if she had chosen the pew for the light or if the light had found her. I sat at her feet and heard the sound of my heavy breath. It offended even myself. My hand slid from the top of her toes and slowly up her leg when she awoke.
Her screams rolled in my eardrums and she drew her legs up to her chest and cradled them with her arms. I screamed back as the pain in my ears shook my eyes and head.
My scream silenced her. She stared at me in shock. It was then that I noticed how young she truly was. I filled with disgust. I walked to the altar and fell to my knees sobbing.
I had thought she would run back out of the woods as I cried. Instead I felt her hand upon my shoulder.
“Don’t cry " she said with such confidence in her safety."
"Go! You are in great danger here. I can only hurt you. GO!"
She stepped back and I turned to face her. The scent of her sex nearly drove me insane. I filled with lust at the tease of her young bosom visible beneath the sheer nightgown.
"If you stay near me I will have you!" I pulled her to me gave her a deep kiss. She allowed her self to become part of the kiss. When it stopped, she looked into my eyes and felt the presence of my enormous genitalia pushing against her.
She went limp as she passed out. She felt but a frail porcelain figure in my massive hands, and I realized I could not take her in this way.
When she came to, I gave her some bread and wine I had gathered. She came to her senses. Her anger became apparent as she tore at the bread with visible dissatisfaction.
"What would you have me do? Rape you?" I asked full of the pain of repression.
"Follow me," her tones were edged with revenge.
She lead me down a path and into a dark cave. We came to two cages one contained another satyr whose waist and legs had been sheared. Presently he was being pleasured by a wood nymph. Their moans of ecstasy were loud and enthralling. My blood began to heat. She acted as if she did not see or hear a thing and continued to gently lock me into the other cage.
* * * * *
I was locked there for several days and nights. The wood nymph was thin enough to enter and leave the cages through the bars. She offered to enter my cage. I declined wishing rather to live with the agony of listening to their pleasures. I explained that I was obsessed for the girl.
The girl eventually came to let me out. I was seething for the pleasure of her young body. I begged her to come back with me to my cabin, and to free me from this satyr's lechery. She acted as if I had said nothing as she led me back into the church. She walked ahead of me to the altar where she stood upon the first step.
"You are an unusual satyr. You did not take me, nor did you take the wood nymph. I know I could love you."
She stepped out of her nightgown. Her arms betrayed a tremble as she reached out to me. Her youth, her beauty, and most of all her innocence made me wish that she saw me as I truly was. How I loathed and reviled my satyr’s form, for I truly loved this girl. I could think of nothing else to do but to turn my back to her and run away.
“Fine I will take the other satyr then!" She yelled as I fled.
I ran toward my cabin without looking back until I reached the top of the first hill. Even from the great distance, I felt the venom in her eyes as she rode upon the back of the other satyr. I could only wonder if she could see the pain in my eyes. Often I have wondered if I would be better off with the vultures and in chains.
I cannot fully appreciate time. These woods stand forever, though those who intrude here carry with them the limitations of time. Other than foolish academic retreats into a twisted perception called history, the woods remain one of the few places to come where time is not a restraint.
Few intruders come here deliberately. They bumble and stumble into the trees with the crashing of elephants. They have little regard for the majesty of this place. Humanity's vanity displays reverence only in man-made places of worship. Here in the bosom of divinely inspired creation they assume no such pretensions. Though they leave the woods with refreshed vigor, they see the energy as a gift to themselves.
If you were to live here, you would see that there are no rules in the woods. Humanity creates rules to create exceptions. This is why exceptions to humanity's rules are sought for. Exceptions validate existence.
Besides family, there is little for intruders to perceive the changes of time while it etches distinctive lines into hearts and minds. From what I have observed, even family is disappearing from humanity's self -perception. Without such a measuring stick, how can one see if life is truly progress?
A wonderful exception came to these woods on a chilly fall day, I watched as he crossed the wild strawberry meadow to enter the trees that encircled the pond. At his side, his faithful dog snapped at butterflies and attempted to entice his young master into play.
Quietly I watched his approach. He was a young man in his early teens. Dried tears left black lines down his cheeks. Removing the choker chain from the dog set the dog into an uncomfortable silliness. The boy, oblivious to the dog, climbed the large tree with leash and collar. He set about to tie it off on a heavy branch and set the collar about his neck.
He sat there for a long time. Below, the dog barked and scampered about to attract his master's attention. I sat staring on, fascinated and jealous. I found myself wondering why it is, that so many choose these woods to contemplate suicide. Do they know they cannot succeed here? Is it an ultimate clash between creator and created? Or is it just a simple retreat from that which they cannot comprehend?
Anger overcame the young man as he untied the leash from the branch. He left it to dangle by the chain about his neck. Climbing down he set his foot upon a branch that broke beneath his weight and he crashed to the ground. Wild tears streamed down his cheeks and he pounded the moss beneath his hands.
The dog tried to lick his face still wanting his collar, his security. A vicious swat from the boy sent the dog scattering outside hands reach. The dog's tail curled under in obligatory deference. The posture caught the boy's eye. The contradiction of the love he felt for the dog, and the angry swat seemed to punctuate his frustrations.
Standing up he tied the leash to a branch just above his head. He then sat upon the ground and laid back, bringing the rope taunt, his head a foot above the ground. Over the course of many minutes he nudged his head back. Each time, the choker chain clicked another link tighter. The dog sensed danger and ran to me across the pond. I came to the boy's side just as he passed out. The loss of consciousness moved the chain a final link tighter.
The boy's life came upon me in a rush of emotions, screams of parental disapproval, snickers of peers in rejection, and the hollowness of unrequited love.
What surprised me the most was his anger at his maker, "If you exist then free me from this place. Surely if you exist then you will not suffer me this torment of life! And if you don't then I don't need to suffer any more..."
With this he saw The Light and he saw the other souls. Some sped with tremendous speed toward The One Light. Others, slower than him, fell behind. Out of this highway he saw me as the only light moving toward him, and I waited to see how he perceived me. At first I could not see myself for I had become his grandmother who had died while he was still in the crib.
“So now you have your proof. Go back it's not your time yet. "
“It does not matter who I am. It is you that matters. Understand that you must go back you will not be allowed to go further. Take with you your proof of this greater life and find your part within the time allotted you. You have much yet to do. "
“Good-bye you are loved but you must first understand what love is not before you can accept it for what it is. Awaken now. "
He awoke to find his shaking dog hysterically licking his face. He stood up. It took several minutes for him to move air through his bruised throat. Returning the collar to the dog, they walked back over the meadow. The dog looked back once as if to say good-bye.
The next time I was to see this young man he had changed considerably in appearance. His clothes were those of someone who had seen much strife. His body was no longer soft and rounded, but sinewy and tight. His cheeks betrayed the hollowness of much abuse, and his eyes peered from the darkness of little sleep.
I found him in the pre-dawn hours on a cool spring morning. He sat high above the river upon the edge of a cliff. He had been there many hours in silence staring at the raging torrent of the spring waters as they raced out of the hills. He was one of the few that knew where and why he was in these woods. He had come here deliberately and though not unconscious I could see within him his true self. He was such a wonderful exception. He was validation of life personified. He showed no alarm or surprise as I approached him.
"Look at my life Old Man, tell me what you see."
"Tell you what you see, or what I see?"
"What do you think I see?” The sarcasm twisted in to a sneer.
"I think you see parents that wanted different things than you possessed. A wife who aborted your child and left you for other men. A lover who wanted to raise a child of yours with another woman, with you as a guest in that child's' life. You perceive injustices in life that the ignorant can find such bliss. You view others success with a presupposition of amorality. You see the efforts of your labor being stolen by the belligerent and your hungers going unstated. Mostly you feel invisible in the twisted carnage of others lives."
He stood quickly in defensive anger, a calm then spread across his visage and he sat back down next to me.
"And what do you see Old Man," he said with a chuckle beneath his words.
"I see a man who has seen first hand what love is not. A man who has become addicted to this mix of diverse adversity. A man that knows he must now return, and to attempt to not be hypocritical to his self-knowledge."
A puff of disgust escaped his lips. It was as if returning would belittle all he knew as truth, "Even if it were possible to not be a hypocrite, what then? Will it change anything? Will one person be any better off? If I return, I walk into conformity to all that I abhor!? Here, I am whatever I wish to be. Most see me as a romantic wanderer deep in mystery. I am feared and respected. The place, you say I must return to, knows only fear of power. It respects only those that they wish they might be. I am separate from those things. If I walk there my hypocrisies will only suffer me to be surrounded by confused strangers."
"Only there can you hope to find the love you continue to search for. Surely you must see that no one could love you as you are now, traveling here and there with the wind and your mind changing with each season. Your words hide both the predator and prey within you."
"You make a lot out of nothing. Life is all accident and chaos. It is ordered only by a need to perceive structure." His hand began to nervously pound a rock upon the cliff. The rock sparked with each strike.
"With the proof of greater life you possess, still you stand in defiance of creation?"
He gazed across the grandness of the nature surrounding us as he spoke, "Life defies me. Nothing in it reaches out to accept. Life pounds out its measured beats in a monotonous rhythm that has become a conundrum. Life is without answers. Even love has become a facade for the emptiness that we cannot except. The proof you speak of was but a fool searching for a way out. It was a deliberate and meaningful reaction to emptiness. Watch."
He stood and walked off the cliff and fell into the raging torrent below. I watched as the water hurled him down river and threw him onto an enormous rock in the center of the river. At first he sat upon all fours shaking the water out of his hair. Then he stood and surveyed his situation. The rock was completely circled by raging waters. His life still intact, he screamed with total violence against the water. The water simply continued rushing by.
With a final scream he dove back into the river and disappeared. Suddenly the whole earth shook. Even I cowered in fear, as a wave in the shape of a giant fist came out of the water and threw him upon the far shore. When he came to, he looked up at me and shook his fist. His shoulders hunched over in resignation as he walked away.
I took the rock he had been pounding and threw it into the river.
"Too late for that Prometheus," the river roared.
My shoulders hunched as I returned to my cabin.
This man is the only person that can walk into these woods without me sensing his presence. So it was that late one summer night, I was startled to hear a knock upon my door. To my surprise, he stood there with a new baby in his arms. A beaming smile was upon his face, and his eyes glistened with welling tears.
"Look Old Man! Love! It's real... there really is love! I can feel it!"
I ushered him in. We spoke little. We marveled at the new life before us. I saw within his heart a loving wife. She too was a broken and frustrated soul. It made me laugh to see two such battered hearts become pillars for a shared roof. Tears welled in my eyes as I listened to him make promises to his child. I knew he would not be able to keep them. I said nothing. I did not want to take away from his first true joyous moment in life. He got up to leave. I was surprised to feel a tug of regret as he headed to the door.
"Know what Old Man? I'll conform. It'll be worth it. I won't fight life anymore. I'll do whatever it takes. For my child, I will do it."
I wanted to stop him, but I could not. His mind was set. There was nothing I could say that he would have heard anyway. I knew he would return, and I knew where.
* * * * *
Again, he walked through the strawberry meadow. On a chilly fall day he approached the pond encircled by the trees. This time he came without the dog, or leash. Roundness had returned to his body and the hair on his head had left. He stood next to the tree and saw that it was larger in his mind than it really was.
"Old Man, I know you're here. I wish to speak to you." I came forward and felt his heart heavy with burdens. "What do you see Old Man?"
"I see a man who has finally achieved the acceptance of his parents and peers, and felt the warmth of being truly loved."
“And what do I see Old Man? "
"You see a man that has intentionally forgotten himself. A man that has achieved all he sought as a child. A man that now finds his goals were never his, but shaped by the need for acceptance by others, not for himself."
"I feel as if I should not have left here that day so long ago. It is as if I've traveled a long road just to find myself where I began." He stared long at the heavy branch of the tree.
"You lie to yourself. If this were true why didn't you bring a rope?" I saw his children dance around his heart within him. We squatted down to look at the teeming life in the stagnant waters of the pond, and he reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette.
"Want one?" He asked.
"Yeah... why not." He allowed me to put my hand around his shoulder as I walked him back across the meadow.
"Careful where you put that out. This whole place could go up in smoke."
"Been done already," I said with a wink. "Do something unique. Give an old man something to look forward too."
In these forgotten woods filled with dreams hide the thoughts you no longer come to terms with. The lessons of the ancients' no longer seem to hold enlightenment when held against the light of the mortal lands. Man's new found life allows no gods to walk among them. It interferes with their self-worship.
Perhaps that is why it is not surprising to me that Oed visits in my woods every century or so. He is ashamed of the dark parody he has become in the mortal lands. Here he visits to be himself without understanding and to avoid consequence.
* * * * *
He came here last on a winter's eve. If one were to follow his tracks in the snow they would have found the most direct route to my specious cabin. He entered without knocking. He took off his clothes and laid them over the back of the couch. He placed his socks neatly into his correctly placed hiking boots. He reached for the axe above my fireplace, his genitals dangerously close to the heat of the hearths' metal screen. It was not until that moment that he acknowledged that I was home.
His smile stripped me of my arsonistic tendencies. I was forced by my most human nature to accept his portion of self-destruction. His smile left me to wonder if he knew that I looked forward to his visits. Humility's consequence in my woods is but the laughter of forgotten gods.
As was his manner, he spent the better part of the day splitting wood. His nakedness was warmed only by the forgiveness of the woods. His form powered the blade to splinter and destroy by half with each choreographed stroke.
He was aware that I watched from a window. Using the lifeless browns of the woods for background and the blueness of the moonlit snow as footlights, he danced upon this most natural of stages.
He returned the axe to its place and stoked the fire. We both knew it was time.
I found myself in the cabin's bedroom. My form was not my own but Oed's magnificent body. Electrified hands forced my excited member in to the softness of inner thighs. A banging upon the front door startled me to consciousness.
I, in the body of Oed, listened intently to two distinctive feminine voices at the door. I knew one to be Oed's voice in his feminine form. The other voice at the door was familiar also. Oed had placed her form upon myself on previous visits. Her husky tones rose into a laugh. A laugh that started in the throat and ended in a smile of subtle sarcasm.
The laughter rolled into a muffled moan of enjoyment. As I listened I recalled the sheer pleasure of Oed's needful embracing kisses. I knew exactly when the visitor would feel Oed's moist warmth begin to press against hers. I found myself with knees upon the bed feeling the curves in my buttocks. The thump, followed by pleasured laughter would normally have fueled my need, but the thump had jarred the bedroom door open a crack.
The partially opened door left an obtrusive line of light into the darkness of the room. The light of the fire cut across the floor straight to the bed where it lay with my mocking silhouette upon the wall. The silhouette's throbbing erection forced me to seek the comfort of the room’s darkest corner.
I tried to shut out the groans from the other room, but was compelled to look. The quiet crawl to peek into the light of the opened door became an erotic dance. Waves of pleasure emanated from the other room. My hands touched my masculine form in a effeminate fashion as my eyes beheld the two women.
Buried in the each others' passion, their bodies undulated in the deepest of shared embraces. Their voices and eyes were oblivious to the fire before them. My eyes closed as my hands searched out a way for my ache to be filled. I lost balance and bumped into the door, shutting it with a, "click".
Its unwanted noise pierced the moans of ecstasy.
Two muffled, yet suddenly sober, feminine voices spoke to each other. I quietly crawled back into the darkness. My erection throbbed insistently against my abdomen and I filled with a ravenous hunger.
Outside my room, I heard the visitor leave the cabin. She left with the same laugh upon which she had entered. My anger was only suppressed by my uncontrolled fears. Oed walked to the bedroom door. I heard the quiet rush of a match being lit and saw the light that intruded beneath my door brighten with the strength of one candle.
"Are you awake!?" Oed's feminine voice accused. “I know you are. I'm coming in."
The door opened. My body felt a paralyzing explosion of fear. The only sensation left was the raging of my member. The light poured across the center of the room, invading into my darkness.
"Where are you? You're not in bed."
I found the strength to pull my knees to my chest and huddled small into the darkest corner of the room. Her silhouette pulsed in the firelight of the room behind her. Her shadow danced within the shadow of the candle. Her shear gown was even sheerer in silhouette. Exposed in the darkness of her shadow, danced every curve of her womanhood. Looking up from the shadows upon the floor, I saw her body darkened by the firelight behind it. Upon her candlelit face, her eye's betrayed her inability to locate me in the shadows. The darkness of her body betrayed reverberations of unconsummated passion. Her erect nipples stood clearly defined in her silhouette, as she turned to face the darkest corner of the room.
Her silhouette and foot joined at the dividing line made by the invading light of the fireplace. My entire body tightened like that of a snake before the strike. I made not a sound but waited upon the moment her dark silhouette entered my darkness. Moments merged with the pleasure of anticipation. Her eyes betrayed knowledge of my presence, but not my location.
"I am coming in." she whispered.
At the moment her silhouetted foot crossed into my darkness I sprang to my feet. My muscles were fully tensed and my body oiled by sexual heat, when the light of her candle fell upon my unicorn's horn. Her eyes betrayed nothing. They begged for mercy.
I took the candlestick from her hand. I touched its light to her gown and watched it consumed her. Not one scream, that escaped her lips as she was dying, sounded like pain.
A moment of darkness covered my eyes. When the darkness passed I was myself once again and Oed was once again outside my window chopping wood.
A heavenly voice filled my head, "Oedipus has ceased to kill his father, when are you going to quit playing with fire?"
I replied, "Until it ceases to burn."
Spring transcends the winter even in my woods. I need only to disbelieve the illusion of winter's killing frost to see the subtle signs of life. It takes but the smell of life to disbelieve the winter, even on gray and damp spring days. The promise of the warmer days to come is validated by the daily promise of the sun's forgiving rise.
Transcending is possible in my woods. The cost of self knowledge cannot be equated with any possible monetary or scholarly value.
* * * * *
I ask that you walk with me this day into these woods. Listen to the birds chirp. You can hear their joy this day.
What's this? Their song of joy has an edge of dark shadows? I feel it too. Someone... Many someone's have entered my woods. I can tell they have not stumbled into the woods. The feelings within me tell me of the intruders' deliberateness. They hold the type of purpose that stems from inner-conviction. Their intentions are clear. They have come to indite, prosecute, convict and execute my sentence.
"Run! I am filling with their madness! Run! Lest you find you never leave these woods the same!"
"What? You do not leave? This is foolishness, you should leave. I cannot assume any responsibility for you. Indeed if you must stay then simply be my witness. Do not take part in the judgment that they will attempt to lay upon me though they are trespassers. I must go now. They have already started to take control of the woods and thereby me. Please if you must follow be a keeper of my sanctuary so that all will be as it is now when they leave."
I cannot stop to see your actions, fear courses through my being on the approach of the intruders. I run. My heart breaks with the fear that is being forced upon me. Shadows in the woods come ever closer and the sun begins its chilly descent from the heavens.
A stern voice pierces in anger from the heavens, "Look at what you've done Prometheus!"
* * * * *
The shadows gain on me. I stumble and sprawl brusingly on the ground.
Out of the shadows a boy approaches, brick in hand. He smiles as he crashes the brick's corner upon the crown of my skull.
* * * * *
What's this? A field of grass and night has fully fallen. My head aches.
Off in the distance I hear the sweet sound of a water fall. Ah to once again behold my vision in all of it's color's and hues. Following the sound I once again view the waterfall from the shadows of the trees. I see her delicious body bathing and know that I do not wish to make love to its shape, but to possess that shape and laughter.
I have a realization that my vision is upon a stage. The waterfall is at the stages center. Stage-left a character enters with the thespian mask of sadness. His cloven feet and goat like legs leave no doubt that it is the satyr hiding behind a mask.
The stage changes to a church in the woods and upon the pew the woman regained her purity. So that she could loose it - again. I watch as a spectator in a great natural amphitheater the satyr's hand as it slides up the virginal leg. The satyr's mask falls to reveal my desires. The human torso of the satyr, which I see clearly from my seat, is clearly my own. My shame shines upon the maidens face.
As the embarrassment fills me, the stage changes scene once again I see the tree, the rope, and the dog. I see my embarrassment hanging lifeless. I feel compelled to confess how little the line between fact and fiction.
My vision tears apart and swirls as if it were a wet painting. My eyes begin to focus upon a vision I have not seen in ages. Pain and fear take grip within me.
I am upon the stage under the waterfall laughing,
as the satyr's legs grow upon me
and I feel shame
for in the shadows I see a young boy look upon me.
In his hands is a brick.
Look into his face,
and see my children.
I find myself laying convicted beneath the tree upon the stage. I become the satyr with the woman's torso. Blood is upon my visage full of shame, and the small boy clubs me with a brick.
* * * * *
Once again the scene swirls about me. I begin to feel chains upon my wrists and ankles come into being. In broken streaks of vision, I see the view from my mountain and feel pain as the vultures tear at my flesh. I scream in horror as I realize my woods are in my mind. I scream the scream of agony. Standing naked, chained to the mountain, I realize eternity.
A spirit takes form before me as I lay shackled and naked against the precipice. The spirit takes the form of the most gentle man I could ever have hope to behold. His mere gentleness takes the pain from my many wounds and unshackles my bonds.
"Can you see what you've done Prometheus?" His gentle voice emanating from my creator. "Can you see that all is forgiven?"
Looking into his eye's I fall in love. I bury my head in shame upon his chest.
"I don't understand why you are crying," he speaks as his form begins to dissipate, yet seemingly fill my spirit. 'You have made many friends here, go and be free."
* * * * *
A voice thunders in my head,. "They are all you. You cannot run or else you will live forever chained and the vultures shall forever feast. Indeed as hideous as it sounds you must learn to love them all."
* * * * *
I descend the mountain. At its base, I come upon a river. Great pines upon both sides fill me with the smells of life. I meet a guide who points me in the direction of a great stag that stands not three strides away from us. The native spirit than points at me, and I feel the spirit of the stag within me. I hear the spirit guide as he laughs from his belly the laughter of wisdom. I listen to hear the laughter dissipate as he walks away from the river's edge and I realize that you're still here.
Yes you. I understand that truly you are the one that has stumbled into my woods.
"Can you see the wood fairies as they approach?"
You look confused as the fairies tug at my sleeves and say, "Come look at what we've done Prometheus, you can be our witness." I leave so that I may do for them, what you have done for me.
Looking over my shoulder, I see you disappear into the moon lit woods. I know you will find the cabin. Make yourself at home. You'll just have to learn to forgive the intrusions.
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