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Shadow of the Crater & The Lotus Demon [Chapters 15 & 16 "The Cadaverous Planets"]
Shadow of the Crater
Sometimes we’re in the mouth of the whale–
and still other times we are running from the lion;
seldom are we in the jungle undisturbed; thus,
when it comes about, we must grab the moment…
Hidden on the surface by the polar-craters, hidden by the shadows is a hydrogen-based water supply emitting its way upward, ascending from the floor and sides of the crater, up towards the top and out of the crater somewhat, as most of it falls back down into and onto the crater, it then cools off the walls and surface and floor of this solar heated desert like area; the planet being some ten-times hotter than earth, and closer to the sun. There on its surface and within its crater, lives an ancient species, right from the planet Moiromma: yes, they appeared there many years ago, from Moiromma, others from earth, as they had been going on a second or third or fifth or tenth life. The settlement that resides there at present, originated from the Dark Ages of planet earth [around 1000 AD].
This location is the only place on the planet where the Moirommalit’s could have survived, where it was the coolest area on the planet, and at night when it got cold, they of course did not have a hard time adjusting for they were as I said, from Moiromma, and we all know, or those familiar with Moiromma know, it is an arctic planet, and Moirommalite have a built in thermostat, of sorts; that said, the polar craters of which there were two side by side almost, by one another, and the larger one was the area in which [or by where] they settled; as a result, under the shadow of the craters for the most part, facing away from the sun–yes, yes indeed, if ever they walked the surrounding ground of the crater, outside of it–is where they walked because of the coolness the shadow provided; other than that, they paced or walked inside the crater walls. The pack of Moirommalit’s were somewhat hemmed in, you might say. But as they had discovered in there multi life cycles, each planets had its own dimensions–and many a Moirommalite has seen many planets if they lived to their ripe old age of 500 to 1100 years; as I was saying, each planet had its own dimensions, its own struggles, dilemmas, danger areas; and then there were a few more promising planets rich with soils and seasons like Earth; but far and in-between were theses.
The craters both had their smooth and rough areas, terrain if you will; their battered areas showing its age–by way of the shifting winds, solar storms and other outer space debris seeping into its orbit, and crashing into its land surface. On this desert and desolate planet, it was covered with rich iron and magnesium, volcanic rocks. And outside the shadows of the two craters, were Mercury’s dunes.
Some two hundred Moirommalit’s now inhabited the planet, and after Siren had left Hell’s gulf, going aimlessly back and forth trying to find an entrance out of Hades River, always looking behind her and noticing Hell’s docks, her group getting weary, she got fed up with going in circles, in consequence, Siren jumped into the mucky waters–to commit suicide, and did quite well in that area, and now ended up on Mercury, thinking it was possible, that she’d end up on Moiromma, but no such luck.
When Siren appeared on Mercury, she was met by none other than King Luhtc [from the house of Uhluhtc, of Planet Moiromma]; it was a pleasant meeting as far as Moirommalit’s go; that is to say, no death chanting or spell binding black magic took place. Yet it was not to last, for within seventy-six minutes of her introduction into this new society on the planet Mercury, devastation was sneering in the not too far distance.
And so it was written on this day and time and put into the Great Halls of the Great Crater Library on Mercury, that a giant asteroid, by the name of “Asteroid 76,” hit Mercury, killing all the inhabitants but two.
Of Mercury’s Great Abyss
The Lotus Demon
Somewhat lost in an old cavern channel–in the northwest corner of the big volcanic crater, with a torch in the bowels, the guts, the deep intestines of Planet Mercury, the figures move forward: limbs and faces, motionless, silent, on a path–passageway–hugging the inner walls of the towering cliffs within this haunting abode–its ledges, like monolithic balconies, ghouls–or seemingly so ((also known as the Lotus Demon)) no one knows exactly where their beginning was)…leaning against them, facing downward onto the moist path below, peering, in a trance-like form, at these figures walking with a lit torch in this endless and confusing maze–was apocalyptic to its on lookers. But not too fast, no–they would size up the enemy, for all who entered were of that category. Untenable, would they become the further they got into the cavity of these forbidden channels.
The unwelcome explorers: King Luhtc of Mercury and Siren of the Planet Moiromma (which is on the outskirts of Earths solar system) were together in this ancient of ancient, fathomless abyss worm type holes; entrance within the bottom of the crater; the lone survivors of a surface catastrophe that took place by Mercury’s two large craters. They walked as if they were on a sheet of glass: eyes, eyes, eyes, and ghostly licentious eyes everywhere, all around them, they noticed: ghostly-coated figures, making faces, stretched out faces, faces seeping into smoke shapes and disappearing, changing at a moment’s breath. Down, down, down and farther down the two walked the narrow labyrinth; always descending deeper as if they were looking for the core of the planet, its steel beams, and its monolithic pillars. But where else could they go, they followed a path, and to be frank, it all lead down, down, down: seemingly to the same destination, and we’ve yet to know it.
At times the passageway was narrower, and I know I repeat myself, but narrow is to the point they had to walk sideways to get beyond an arch, that seemed to lead into the ongoing path, and there were several of them, yes they had to slanted arches and zigzagged pathways, yet it remained passable to continue: so it seemed, towering it was, possibly a thousand feet high; almost elbow room at times–sideways, sometimes not even that, sometimes they had to kneel and crawl through the passageways–it was a never ending underground river road. The Mercury phantoms did not disappear (nor did they appear completely), they were following the figures–aimlessly on this eerie journey (with ebony type eyes); or was it they were so many they were in a herd, stuck to one another perhaps being pressured, one top of one another for a billion years; –they were simply new creatures to this insidious and ugly abyss, and their appearance seeping from the great walls of the abyss–as these explores came to new footage, always ahead, always down, descending. One creature looked to have long hair like women, a head like a wolf and Leopard together, and wild boar tusks. There were other kinds also. Yet, all in all, for the moment anyway, this cryptic army of sorts did not seem violent, or a hindrance to the couple, other than its curiosity, if not its arrogant possessiveness of this underground hell of sorts.
Moment after moment, by and by, these two explorers (if it is reasonable to say explorers for they were really survivors more than explorers): as I was about to say, they provided new moments of bewilderment if anything: to themselves and their audience–and at times panic as they look behind them judging their distance with frightful eyes, aching backs, feet torn to shreds; heels, elephant raw and calloused: perhaps liken to an ancient turtle who has walked the earth endlessly: they were sore and raw and tender, bleeding and blistered and bruised. But there was no turning back, it was too far a distance to go–they were at a point of no return; and uphill, yes uphill, it would be: plus their energy level was exceedingly drained. Strong they were, but not superhuman, not with unending vitality; so forward, forward they went, another moment, another foot, more ghostly faces peering, new strata in the towering walls, although most looked the same after a while.
It was the third day of walking now, walking without rest; the third day of looking and walking and wondering: for the first time they stopped, congested, tired, they stopped to rest: weary if not outright drained, a bit deranged also–scattered brains you might say, they squatted against the tall cliff-wall, looking about, then looking one to the other, and back to looking about again: what was to be done? The king pointed out to Siren a hundred faces peering at them from above, almost paralyzing them, he had to shake his head to regain his senses, his focus, and his mental capacity to deliberate and discriminate. Now they [they being: the Locus Demon], were like spiders climbing all over the walls two legged spiders, thick looking, and swiftly they went: a new breed from the last appearance: like flies buzzing everywhere, their movements were now, somewhat now, choreographic, you could make out their foot steps, their arrangements, actions were almost soldier like: they were no longer constrained by anything: if doubt was in their deliberation, a process of deliberation of what they may have had preceding this moment, prior to there previous movements, that is, it was deleted now, they looked famished, wanting to eat or attack or something on that order
(yet they were restrained for some reason); their eyes and body posture indicated so, as did their regimentation: attack would be coordinated, or so it seemed. Now they were free to act somewhat independently, and openly, perhaps because they [Siren and the King] were at a point of no return. It seemed like they tapped their feet as they moved about; irritatingly. Thus, perhaps the first creatures were the scouts.
“Who are they?” asked Siren to the King.
“God’s of the Underworld,” replied the king with blood shot, ape-like eyes.
“WHO ARE YOU!-?” yelled Siren, not content with the king’s analysis of these hideous looking creates; not convinced that god’s looked so ferociously revolting, so ugly.
“Out of nowhere,” said a voice, “we are out of nowhere,” repeated the voice.
But Siren could not make out whom, and exactly where the voice was coming from, there were so many dogmatic creatures screeching, and tapping, and buzzing about.
“No,” said Siren, “you have a beginning, and it seems this was or is your end.”
All went silent for the moment, all the creatures stopped; it was as if a volcanic reaction froze them, as if lightening awoke them-stunning them as statues:
[Death lingers in Mercury’s abyss] Dreadfully and quietly beneath the immense walls, the creatures breathed slowly in their statuette form, as the two (King Luhtc and Siren) moved forward watchfully. The king, a ruler without people (since the great upheaval recently, which caused castraphonic destruction around the planet, and in particular, the great volcano area where the king ruled), stopped again to rest against the walls, in his slumberous way, yet sleep could not be his relief, it was to remote from his mind, doom was all above, and now below and around him; his eye-lids would not close for more than a few seconds. “Yes,” he murmured to Siren, his new found mate, “…death is imminent.”
This strange life form around him-ambiguous at best, and nothing he could do to resolved his situation, or rid them of his presence, thus again, death was obvious he surmised, it was just when and where and how.
Oddly enough, Siren did not show the same kind of defeatism on her face that the young king did. Hence, they both waited silently, anxiously for the next moment, watching the many eyes peering down at them, and voiceless lips unmoving. It would all pass he told himself.
“Pass, pass into nothingness,” he murmured to out loud, while watching Siren’s expression which was flat at best: lest she give away some secret of escaping this dreadful abyss. There was not much left on the surface, and exploring the underworld was an option possibly to a new life, food potentially. But now with second thoughts, at least for the king, life was better in his old surroundings: or so he felt, the unknown was becoming too involved, too much terror, too much murkiness; for a chill now had entered the walls and floor of the cavern and the walls seemed to moan and crack, yes, yes, moan and crack, and liquefied–and the strata seemed to move and reshape itself. On the surface, He was without a kingdom, in the upperworld he was part of another kingdom, but it was better than to be entombed in this abyss world he demised in his minds-eye, so he told himself, so you could read in his face.
“Yes, oh yes,” he whispered to Siren, “…it is better to be a live hermit in the soot ridden upper world, than a dead king in the underworld.”
She just smiled and looked about, looked at possibilities, at options, at the faces looking at her, frozen in time. To her, death was simply a movement, from one place to another. To the king, it was the end of time as he knew it. Thus, time was not a commodity for him at this point, as it might have been more so for her. The king remained scornfully resting on the wall now, mocking with his looks the demon-type creatures whom were frozen time. What were they frozen in time for? He asked himself. What they were planning, asked Siren, to her minds-eye. As if she had second-sight, she told the king to move, she knew the frozen figures were just that, figures, and not beings anymore, they had left and were in the walls.
[Lifting Death] Abruptly, the creatures started to move, hence, forward, drawing nearer to the two, as if they were in a zoo, looking hardily at them. One was but four feet from them. Many of the creatures still frozen, but someone had read Siren’s mind. Their bodies reeked with a puke smell, as their two legs with scorching type looking muscles, held firm like a spider on the wall, their bulky, but muscular bodies holding firm, almost as if they were armed plated (about half of them still frozen); a tail that looked more like a snake with spears on the end, like a Manticore’s waved slowly in the windless air behind them. Their eyes, those poignant red, lash less eyes, pointedly stared at the two, as if to devour them: but remained restrained for some reason. A perturbing spine curved ruggedly from their neck to their tailbone, as if from a prehistoric period. No natural light had ever gotten this far down to them.
The Prison House
“We are the results, the decedents of an angelic race long past, and one that the Almighty had imprisoned in what became know as, ‘The Prison House for Angels,’ far off in the Universe. It was a time before the name of Lucifer, or Satan as he is also known was created.”
Siren had lived on earth and heard of the legends, folklore, and stories of this Adversary of a Mighty God, called Lucifer, but never of this other angelic race, nor of these creatures.
Said the one giant looking creature (named: Axons) about twenty feet long, and half that height tall,
“Mercury was a live planet at one time, until a war broke out, and we were forced to hide underground. We cannot die, only be in the continuum of the living progress: as you can see, bored to death, and we are not allowed to leave the underworld: and we cannot hurt unless provoked. We are simply waiting for the New Happening, when we will be free.”
Added, Axons with a chilling but moderate voice:
“Escape is not possible for us or you, and there need not be a discussion on the matter!”
Axons stepped back from the two, the creatures seemed to melt into the sides of the walls, like ghosts, the stoned figures evaporated, and were already into the walls; as the others melted into the clay and the mud and the stones; until not one was seen, completely gone that is, leaving perforations on the mud like walls. The king looked about, his heart stopped fluttering for once, and he let out a big sigh, for him it was relief, what he was waiting for. A slight smile appeared on his face, but Siren did nothing to infringe on his delight, rather remained guarded and again looked upon the walls (all this talking had made her lose her focus, as it did to the king), and situation, trying to figure out what lied beneath this retreat. She was not leaning against the walls of the cavern, rather standing on the narrow pathway: call it instinct, or second sight, whatever it was, it was not to the liking to the creatures: they waited and hoped for her to lean against the walls. The walls seemed to her, to have the ability to crush her at will–a sense, more than a fact, and she did not like them terms, they were too imaginable for her to give more power to them, and rest against them–
images now were forming within the mud of the walls, hands in particular, intelligible hands that moaned; suddenly, they grabbed the king capturing him in the sludge, dirt, mud pulling him into the stonewalls, ripping his body as they did, for he did not go transparently like the Lotus Demon had, it was a horrific torture to watch and listen to his body sucked in, cracked; yes, O yes, his body parts started to break like wish bones pulled apart: and inside his body, his body pull apart, the hands grabbed them and faces appeared and ate them when his body limped down the side of the wall like a rag; he was being molded into their clay walls, molding them into their own bodies, and giving birth to a new creature. Not a word was spoken, and a hand had covered his mouth so no screams could be heard.
The Old Race
There was no overture or benediction, or requiem to take place, to the dismemberment of this body, his soul, would have not mass, that once lived and now was connected into the masses; it was desecrated as few bodies had ever been. The king had talked once about these creatures, thought to have been extinct, and now with her white eyes glowing, she knew otherwise.
The walls now seemed to turn dark and volcanic, the mud texture had gone, as if a spell had broken its fabric and restructured it. The ghouls had given her, her initiation into their world, into their revulsion. Somehow the spell of the walls got to Siren, thinking about dying in this pit was even worse, she touched the walls, felt its clamminess, its dark–ebony vibrations from the pulse of the Lotus Demon. With a dagger left on the dirt pathway, one belonging to the king, she picked it up, and before the hands could grab her she plunged it into her heart, killing herself so the dark forces could not resurrect her in their own likeness, consequently, gaining the chance to die and be resurrected on another planet; and the creatures losing the chance to won her soul.
Note: It should be noted for those who are familiar with the Planet of Moiromma, there came a time in their history, when they were implanted with an item that would bring them back to life upon death. Each person born on Moiromma had a certain amount of resurrections and a certain amount of years, the Moiromma nation being different for each person according to their life style. To my understanding, Siren could have ended up back on Earth, or possibly Moiromma; and still there are thousands of other possibilities.
Note: written 4/10/04, Lima, Peru [Revised in St. Paul, MN; 9/2005]
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