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by JRB
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. "
“Grandma ?"
“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. "
“But Gran..."
“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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