Session December 1, 2018

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“I want to turn back,” I yelled at him above the wind, but he still couldn’t hear me.

By MD

When Herbert told me about his infatuation with Rosita Wandella, I was skeptical from the get-go.

“Why on earth would any woman, even if she’s a goddess, want to have so many arms?” I asked Herbert. “The manicure costs alone would be astronomical.”

Herbert rolled his eyes at me. “That’s just the sort of stupid remark I’d expect from you,” he retorted. “The arms are symbols of Rosita’s mission. The extension of her core essence.”

I eyed him dubiously, but he continued. “Each arm embodies a different aspect of talent.” He shoved a photo of the poly-brachial Ms. Wandella under my nose. “Look,” he commanded. “Upper right is current creations. Upper left is links. And so on. Read the labels above each arm.”

I remained skeptical, but to humor him I agreed to attend a conference where Rosita Wandella had scheduled a personal appearance, arms and all. The lecture was titled “Arms and the Woman.” Herbert, of course, attended also. 

I sat still as long as I could through her speech, aware that Herbert was enthralled with her message. But after a little while, Rosita’s high-pitched nasal whine got to me and I began to snort and mock her in my own sonic bray. It was then that Rosita Wandella began waving all her arms at once, tossing gee-gaws and knick-knacks into the audience, striking some and injuring her followers. The maelstrom was astonishing. “I want to turn back,” I yelled at him above the wind, but he still couldn’t hear me. So I left. The last I heard of Herbert, he was a carnival barker at the circus “oddities” show, busking for his employer, “Rosita Wandella, Arachnid Extraordinaire.”

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He shuddered and felt like the devil walked over his grave.

By CT

Fenton loved Halloween, especially going through the Haunted House exhibits.

This year he was very excited because the Haunted House was in the Megrim Manor, a long-abandoned house. No-one knew what to expect on the inside.

Fenton was the first in line when the Manor opened. As he moved from room to room, he felt amazed at the creativity and intricacy of the decorations.

Shrouded figures peered around corners. Moans followed him wherever he went. A bloodied battle axe floated above a mantle. In the last room three small skeletons, obviously children, hung suspended. All three had great holes in the top of the skulls; the eye holes seemed to stare straight at him; and grisly smiles formed above the jawbones.

Fenton asked the ticket-taker outside who had created the decorations.

“Nobody,” said the man, “this is exactly how we found the house. Ain’t it a wonder?”

Fenton shuddered and felt like the devil walked over his grave.

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The Tibetan Plateau comes to an end in Yunnan.

By CC

The Tibetan Plateau comes to an end in Yunnan, Bilok Chong read on his iphone as he lay on the grass of the Red Dragon Egg park in Yunnan. He held the phone overhead and said, “Well, it could be said that the Tibetan Plateau begins in Yunnan. It just depends on your perspective and direction.”

He fanned out his arms and lay spread eagled on the short grass. It was a beautiful summer day, and just early enough to make a stroll on the Tibetan Plateau possible. He was pretty sure he could see it from the park.

Yes, he might as well. It was a spontaneous act, and he wanted to be more spontaneous. He stood up and walked across the rolling swells of the park and out into the neighborhood beyond.

He had not gone in this direction before and was soon lost in a development of empty high rise luxury apartments. The wind whipped around their stark edges in fury. He decided to go inside and try to get a better look at the surrounding area. However there was no electricity, so after climbing to the 57^th floor he decided to stop there and see what he could see. 

He went through a doorway into an empty apartment that looked out to the edges of the earth, it seemed. He could see a tiny white serration on the horizon and thought it might be the Himalayan mountains. They seemed altogether too far for a day’s stroll. 

Suddenly the door behind him slammed shut. He jerked around in surprise; was someone else here? Perhaps it was just the wind. Nonetheless, the door seemed to have locked, or been jammed shut. He wiggled the knob and latch fruitlessly, then put his shoulder to the door, then kicked it. It felt welded to the frame. He went back to the window. It was a long way down, but there appeared to be sufficient hand and foot holds if he just paced himself and braced against the wind. 

It was difficult breaking the window as all he had to work with was the iphone and he didn’t want to damage it. Eventually the glass shattered and fell outwards like a flock of translucent birds suddenly whipped away by gale force winds. 

Bilok secured the phone in a zipped pocket of his pants and climbed out the window quickly, not wanting to succumb to fear, which always happened if he dallied. It took him until evening to find his way to the ground, and then he had to watch carefully for broken glass. He didn’t want any stuck in his sneakers. His Mother would be furious.

It was time to head home and have some noodles at long last. Maybe tomorrow he would leave before dawn and try to reach those mountains. He smiled at the prospect. Life was good.

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Delos has always been considered one of ancient Greece’s most holy sites.

By RMAF

Some of the ancient Greeks would walk, ride horseback or wagon rides for days – even weeks – to the most holy site in Delos to be more spiritually glorified. There is a mountain there, some people referred to it as “Mystic Mountain.” On the high crest of the vortex mound still stands a lone tree which has neither grown larger, nor has it withered away.

Some people claim to have heard great wisdom flowing from the living tower of life. Some other believers feel great love and powers emitting from it.

Some non-believers didn’t make the journey, didn’t climb the mountain and didn’t receive the emanating natural powers, didn’t receive any messages, didn’t receive any rejuvenation in their spirit. 

That’s just he way it usually is, for seekers and non-seekers and believers and non-believers. 

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A vast area of land was sealed off in every direction all around.

By BG

News spread quickly. There was to be an attack on the kingdom. In preparation, a vast area of land was sealed off in every direction all around. The peasants were moved from their villages to a sector protected by great walls extending from behind the castle. The knights aided by every able-bodied man prepared defenses on cliffs in strategic positions along the coast. The Vikings were coming in by sea and the knights assured the King & Queen all would be ready and any attack would be thwarted long before the Vikings could reach anywhere near the castle. Scouts were sent out and returned with reports of the Vikings’ progress. The information they brought ended up as misinformation most of the time. The scouts had become very unreliable. Stories and rumors replaced facts. The thousands of warriors in hundreds of ships that were expected never appeared. The knights peered over the barricades of the first fortress on the cliff at the entrance to the Kingdom’s port with jaws dropped. Two dozen Vikings in one small boat rowed by as their sail seemed to be failing and uselessly fluttering. The knights then sent a messenger to the Castle that the attack would be a non-event.