Wednesday, April 1, 2015

A World Without Fire - 1


Ein Missbrauch von Verfassungsrechten könne von allen Seiten getrieben werden; das führe dann zur Gegenwirkung von der anderen Seite. Die Krone z. B. könne zwölfmal hintereinander auflösen, das sei gewiss nach dem Buchstaben der Verfassung erlaubt, würde aber doch Missbrauch sein. Ebenso könne sie Streichungen des Budgets zurückweisen, ohne Mass; da sei die Grenze schwer zu ziehen; sei sie schon bei 6 Millionen? bei 16? oder bei 60? – Es gebe Mitglieder des Nationalvereins, eines wegen der Gerechtigkeit seiner Forderungen zu Ansehen gelangten Vereins – hochachtbare Mitglieder, die alle stehenden Heere für überflüssig erklärten. Ja, wenn nun eine Volksvertretung diese Ansicht hätte! Müsse nicht eine Regierung das zurückweisen?! – Von der „Nüchternheit" des preussischen Volkes sei die Rede gewesen.

Ja, die grosse Selbständigkeit des einzelnen mache es schwierig in Preussen, mit der Verfassung zu regieren (oder die Verfassung zu konsolidieren); in Frankreich sei das anders, da fehle diese individuelle Selbständigkeit. Eine Verfassungskrisis sei keine Schande, sondern eine Ehre. – Wir sind ferner vielleicht zu „gebildet", um eine Verfassung zu tragen; wir sind zu kritisch; die Befähigung, Regierungsmassregeln, Akte der Volksvertretung zu beurteilen, ist zu allgemein; im Lande gibt es eine Menge „catilinarischer Existenzen", die ein grosses Interesse an Umwälzungen haben. Das mag paradox klingen, beweist aber doch alles, wie schwer in Preussen verfassungsmässiges Leben ist. –
Man ist ferner zu empfindlich gegen Fehler der Regierung; als wenn es genug wäre zu sagen, der und der Minister hat Fehler gemacht, als wenn man nicht selbst mitlitte?! – Die öffentliche Meinung wechsle, die Presse sei nicht die öffentliche Meinung; man wisse, wie die Presse entstände; die Abgeordneten hätten die höhere Aufgabe, die Stimmung zu leiten, über ihr zu stehen. – Nochmals unser Volk angehend: Wir haben zu heisses Blut, wir haben die Vorliebe, eine zu grosse Rüstung für unsern schmalen Leib zu tragen; nur sollen wir sie auch utilisieren. Nicht auf Preussens Liberalismus sieht Deutschland, sondern auf seine Macht; Bayern, Württemberg, Baden mögen dem Liberalismus indulgieren, darum wird ihnen doch keiner Preussens Rolle anweisen; Preussen muss seine Kraft zusammenfassen und zusammenhalten auf den günstigen Augenblick, der schon einige Male verpasst ist; Preussens Grenzen nach den Wiener Verträgen sind zu einem gesunden Staatsleben nicht günstig; nicht durch Reden und Majoritätsbeschlüsse werden die grossen Fragen der Zeit entschieden – das ist der grosse Fehler von 1848 und 1849 gewesen –, sondern durch Eisen und Blut.

An abuse of constitutional laws can be committed by all sides; that leads then to the reaction from the other side. The crown for example, can dissolve twelve times one after the other, and is certainly within the letter of the what is permitted, nevertheless, however, this would be an abuse. Likewise it can reject cancellations of the budget, without measure; there is a difficult border to manage; is it already with 6 million? with 16 million? or with 60 million? Does it give members of the National Assembly, just cause for its demands because of its standing as the Assembly? Highly respectable members who have repeatedly explained their position to the Standing Army? Yes, if a representative government had this opinion! The sober speech of the Prussian People, A government does not have to reject that?!

Yes, the independence of the individual makes it difficult in Prussia to consolidate with the policy to govern, or any policy; in France it is different, there is missing this individual independence. A constitutional crisis is not dishonor, but an honour. Furthermore we are perhaps too intellectual , in order to carry a policy; we are too critical; the capability, through governmental measures, to judge document of the representative government is too general; in the country there is a too much contending factions, which have a large interest in digressions. That may sound paradoxical, but it proves the rule: does the Prussian Constitution weigh to heavily on life?

Furthermore we are too detached from errors of the government; as if it would be enough to say, that the Minister has made errors, as if one would not share in the suffering. The public opinion changes, the press is not the public opinion; one knows, how the press would develop it; wouldn’t the delegates would have the higher task to lead the mood rather than stand over it? Again our people’s origin is clear, we have to hot blood, we have the preference to carry a too long armament for a small narrow body; only we are to also utilize it. Not one Germany Prussia liberalism sees, but each on its own power; Bavaria, Wuerttemberg, Baden may indulge in liberalism, therefore them none will listen to Prussia role’s roll to instruct them; nevertheless Prussia must compress and hold its strength together for the favorable instant, which has been missed already several times; The Prussian borders after the Viennese Treaties are not favorable to a healthy state. By speeches and majority resolutions the large questions of the time are not decided separately, that was the great mistake of 1848 and 1849, but by Iron and Blood.

Otto von Bismarck, to the Prussian National Assembly on the issue of the military appropriation, September 24th, 1862
10th April 1865

Georg Friedrich Julius Arthur Auwers, with a name weightier than his bank balance, stood looking at the vast arc of the train station above him. He even leaned his head backward, a position familiar to him, since he was an astronomer, and surveyed its intricate network of girders, beams and roofing. He had under his arm the beginning notes for what he hoped would be an important work: reductions of old astronomical measurements, put in new format. But for the moment, he was puzzled, around him there was frantic activity, he saw men in uniforms and a bustle that was beyond usual. He turned to the man next to him, and asked.

“Excuse, I must beg your pardon, but what is occurring?”

The other man, with a full beard and wearing a dark suit, looked back. “You are?”

“Herr Professor Auwers, Secretary to the Berlin Academy.” He bowed. “At your service.”

“Well Herr Professor, it is only you who have been looking at the stars that do not know what is going on. There is to be war as of tomorrow.”
The professor should not be thought of as either old or absent minded. He was only 28, and a man of intense concentration. In this case, so intense that the build up to a conflict which everyone said would change the course of history, had escaped him.

“Forgive me, I have been absorbed in my work. We are at war again? Surely not with little Denmark.”

“No, not at all, with the other German states that oppose our lawful rights, most especially, Austria. The preparations are beginning, because they have opposed the plan for suffrage in the Diet, the German parliament, and are going to mobilize. So we will to.”

Auwers did not like the sound of a war within and between Germans, but decided that he should enquire the details elsewhere.

“Yes, yes. Thank you very much. Of course.”

“Nothing of it, you are welcome.”

With this the young Arthur Auwers went speedily to his appointment, he was not, quite yet, officially, the secretary. He needed to accept the appointment formally at the offices of his superior, and then he could take over the work begun so admirably by Encke. And then some, for he knew that the state of the heavens was in a complete disarray. Not the heavens themselves, but the state of the charts used to find anything in them. Observations were scattered, there were dozens of standards, and many of the most basic facts were suspect. Why even the distance between the Earth and the Sun was not well known, and there was only a decade to prepare for the momentous event of Venus transiting the sun. 

It was this event that could be used to calculate the distance more accurately – the way the moons of Jupiter were used to calculate the longitude on the terrestrial sphere more accurately.

He sped to the cabs, and hired one to take him, and his luggage, to his lodgings, and thence to the offices where he would accept the position, and be secure. He thought it was fortunate that he had hurried, because, who knows what could befall an offer when war was started. He also had plans to go to England, in order to look for certain old and rare manuscripts, and this too might well be delayed by hostilities. He would have to find the details.

Arthur Auwers’ dream was to set the mapping of the heavens right, and he knew that it was in England, specifically London, where the most voluminous and accurate measurements that had yet to be brought under his eye were located. The observations dated back to 1740, and included detailed data on the transits of Venus, including, probably, the transits of 1631 and 1639. At Konigsberg he had found information that indicated that there had been some sightings of the 1639 transit, predicted by Kepler, and perhaps the one of 1631. He longed to acquire whatever was in England on the subject, since another exact observation would help. He was due to accept an honour in London, in May, and fully intended to use the opportunity to gather more evidence and information, for example, the rest of Bradley’s observations, and any that were before that might be reduced from morass of unreliable data, to a concise repository of useful information. But only recently had there been the methods and the theories to do this.

Of course, farther in his mind was to travel to the locations of the two upcoming transits of Venus – in 1874 and 1882. 8 years might seem like a very long time to someone in regular life, but he knew, with the difficulties of apparatus and travel, that it was just barely enough time to do what he needed to do.

These thoughts occupied him as he walked into the office, a high ceiling room in an old and lovely classical style building, of which Berlin was filled, and looked across the desk at the man who could either make his reputation, or create in his life a living hell of barriers and problems.

“Herr Director, it is I, GF Arthur Auwers, I have come at your request.”

The director nodded sternly, and looked carefully at the young man, dressed in a somewhat ill fitting and old fashioned suit with a string tie. The young man already had fairly heavy whiskers, and was going slightly bald on his forehead, he also had a slightly ungainly stance, clearly from having worked under heliograph and telescope. These appearances, elsewhere in Berlin, would have lead to instantaneous dismissal, particularly in the social regions dominated by the old Junker nobility, and there attention to uniforms and detail. Behind the director hung a portrait of Kaiser Wilhelm I, dressed in his pomp and circumstance uniform, and sporting a meticulously groomed mustache and handle bar beard.

It was the dress of the director, and the portrait, and his knowledge of the capital’s obsession with dress that made the young Auwers feel ill at ease. But this ended in a moment, as he could see the director break a broad grin.

“Herr Secretary, I am truly honoured to have you hear, and I am sure your coming is the beginning of a long and illustrious association with our society. I have heard of your work, your concern for it above all else. Now I am sure, you are the only man in Berlin today who is not focused south, but up. And I have absolute need for men of precision about their work.”

There was a pause.

“But I would like, if it would be possible, to advance you some small sum on your salary, so that you might be made slightly more presentable. The post needs politics as well as astronomy. It would be most unfortunate for you to be set back in the slightest by such a trivial thing.”
Auwers, exhaled slowly, and then began.

“Very good, herr director. I have also taken the liberty to propose some plans for my work here, which I sent in advance.”

The director took out a folio and opened it.

“Yes indeed, I have read them, and will approve all of them, most particularly the journey to England. Your plans, I might say, are of the meticulous kind that shall win our army its victory, and win Germany the first rank at the front of the scientific conflict.”

“The scientific conflict, Herr Director?”

The older man nodded. “Superiority in navigation will be essential when German fleets steam out to take their rightful place in the sun.”

“Ah, yes, yes.” Though the younger man’s attention was not on war, but still on the stars. “When can I begin work in my office?”

“Oh immediately."

That was precisely the answer he had been hoping for. He went there, and sat down, dashing off the letters he would need to secure introduction, and then set to reading two curious letters that had arrived for him.

My esteemed Professor CF Arthur Auwers, 
I have read with interest your papers on the motion of stars and observations, I have also heard of your coming to our fair land to accept the honour of being made a member of the Royal Society, and thought to bring these two points together in aid of a problem that one of my subordinates has in a project very similar to your own on the Reduction of Bradley’s observations. She has been assigned the task of searching through previous medical records of London, so that we may compile an exact statistical rendering of the causes of mortality as far back as that which we have information for. 
Much of the data, however, is in a terrible shape, and there are references which, we believe, you could easily set us on the right path towards understanding. God has writ the order of the world, and it is for us to use observation and statistics to understand that order over the very large scales, small for him, but greater than we, mere fleas that we are, can comprehend easily. 
So it is in this spirit that I ask if could possible set aside some of your very valuable time in order to look over these entries – of an astronomical quality – so that she might extract proper dates and information. The least amount of your attention would allow her to secure the truth contained in these documents, and allow us to apply this to our work in healing the sick and preventing the worsening of outbreaks of disease. 
At your service
Florence Nightengale 
Post Script, 
There is a Doctor Joseph Lister who desires to make your acquaintence, being very much an admirer of your methods, and who hopes to discuss general scientific reforms that they imply for the keeping of medical records. He will be in attendence at one of the meetings of a society we have formed here for the application of scientific methods to medical arts, and has suggested that we invite you to speak to our group on your important work in relation to the celebrated English Astronomer Bradley, and the importance of observation in discovering the true causes of phenomena. His suggestion was taken very favorably by the society, and so we would like to extend a formal invitation for you to speak.

He composed a short reply, in his best language, and speculated on what the data could be like, but he had other matters which were catching his attention.

Like many young men in a hurry, with a greater mission, GF Arthur Auwers did not waste his time on considering marriage. He was married to his work, and a monastic devotion to it. He read a letter from Neinrich Ludwig d’Arrest in Copenhagen, who he had written to on the state of the Berlin Obserservatory. The reply was short, crisp and precise, as one would be expected from a man as important as one of the discoverers of Uranus, but it was also filled with despair. As second assistant, d’Arrest had labored mightily to upgrade the facilities in Berlin, but had come to nothing. He had gone to Leipzig, and then in 1857 to his present position, simply because he felt he could make more aggressive changes and engage in a larger program of improving equipment. He reminded Arthur that the 23 cm Berlin observatory telescope that they had used was far smaller than what Herschel had had many years before, and it was only luck, and better star charts, that had allowed them to beat the French to the discovery. He noted approving noted on Auwers’ project saying that he felt sure that if he had Herschel’s observations in good form, that he could easily save a great deal of observing and duplication.

Auwers resolved to build a sun station for a heliograph, an instrument with which he was the established master, and also resolved that it should be done in time so that they could start observing transits of Mercury as soon as was practical. He noted that he had to check the calculations of their occurance so he could argue for accelerated construction. After having made notes and written a complete report on the findings and the recommendations he had for the observatory, he dash off a quick letter to Wilhelm Foerster, the newly appointed director there, expressing hope that while he had no formal position at the Observatory, surely it was to the great advantage of the Observatory to accept some of his voluntary services in its program to make Berlin an astronomical center to rival London.

After lunch he wrote back to d’Arrest, expressing gratitude for his labors on Siderum Nebulosorum Observationes Havnienses due out the next year. He was not a man to give effusive praise, but he managed to find some for the eminent astronomer, and then, decided to spend the rest of the afternoon on calculations.

An outside observer from above would wonder whether such a person was destined for a life of anything but obscure productivity.

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Warrens of Undercurrent - V


When in the time of the beginning
there was a man and a woman
and they were after the old times
the man told the woman that
he would have hermetically have her.

and she said that that was possible
when there was only one...



It seemed odd to look at scribbles on paper.  It seemed more odd not to know which was real,  and which was conjecture.  but he knew there was a point:  some of the scribblings on paper,  had actually happened.  And some were out of his mind,  and needed to be sorted out.  It wasn't that the conjectural things were not of any value;  on the contrary,  they were things being reached into his mind by someone else. Someone else who had plans for him,  and was trying to get through.  If he could sort out things that had been done,  things he was thinking about,  and things that were reaching in. And it was who that was reaching in which was important.

He thought about Death and Life-in-Death, and while Death had some good points... No, it was not Death, though the  thought had occurred to him many times.  indeed it was  and  obsession,  which can be broken.  but there was something wrong,  and he realized what it was.  every time that death had seemed to be the reasonable person,  it stopped.

It must be that there had been no mention,  no whisper,  of the author.  which would mean... something but he did not know what. He began  to sort out Niccolo  and Morwethe,  and  began too  to realize who the hidden author was. It didn't seem right,  with the eyes of it behind the page.  the words were only coming in clearly through static....  another word that he did not recognize. This made him think that there was some other pattern,  a ghost in the machine,  Which he realized was something unusual.

The characters voices were  flat at first,  only coming in to reality very slowly. So well reading this, in the back of his mind, was the dawning realization that something else was going on. He new  he was being watched,  as it by someone reading over his shoulder. “What's the idea or is this one?” ,   On one level,  he was reading details of which he was quite sure whether they had happened,  or the was imagining them.  but on another level,  He was  trying to find out what was perhaps image breathing down his neck,  mocking him,  because it knew what it was,  even if he did not.
“I wanted to see whether the thing which made you keeping watch over you.” of course that was is voice, and the other one was hers. But if you thought about it you should realize that already, and it would be as if speaking to yourself, one higher and one lower. 

“Indubitably is you would think otherwise.” The paragon of animals, and the problem of reason. 
“So what are we going to do.” He said, though in his minds eye there was a suggestion of more complex dialogue, but he did not know how to begin. 
“We have to think of something. A little more than kin, and a little less than kind.”
Realization past over objects face, they had to either trust, him,her, just because it had what seemed like a gender, doesn't mean it was actually that gender. Or it was going to be a liability, whatever its gender was. 
“My friend we are going to have to trust you. Or are you going to ditch us? It what will be your plan.” Niccolo decided to lay it on the table. 
“I'm small make up your mind and get on with it.” It said. Resting calmly on its knuckles, and stared back at the two of them. 
He thought and memory heap broke the bonds and said I'm going to trust you because that will be the only way we can go. 
Would that the bonds broke, and he was free. There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes so. 
“Why wouldn't I spend time with you and then get to when you are not looking?”
“Because this dozen weight or anything.” 
“Are you sure?” 
“Would you question it if I was ...” She thought that brevity was the soul of wit, in this case. 
“I am beginning to see promise in you, do not push your luck. But never doubt that I love you, in a bond kind of way.” 
Without they plowed forward whistling which was not something they had been doing before. He was concerned about this. Niccolo he worried about things the warriors had more than a few things that were special. To their arsenal, and these were troubling at least. He thought about the uniforms and the guns, he he thought about other things in their arsenal, he thought about how they had been trapped though they did not know it. Were there more ? Even if the first wave he saw was under control of death there could be more that were not. 
Morwethe on the other hand concerned herself, with more practical affairs, such as how they were going to escape. It was normally ends first reaction to but, he had slithered into a great state of awareness. She spent some time getting together what little things they could then she was at her wits end and she said “You have to get over this, we have to do what we have to do.” It was one of the longest speeches that she had delivered in a long time, and it broke his concentration and from on the ground he stood. 
“You're right. Rich gifts wax for when givers prove unkind.” 
“I was right for that last half an hour.” 
“Yes, I'm sorry. ” 
“There's rubbish a do you think I am easier to be played on a pipe?” 
“And debris that we have gone through, yes I think we do. And we have to go through.” 
“All right then, first let's decide what to look for." 
“To have a plan?" 
“I should but I don't." 
“Why? My brain is tormented. To tell the truth, I don't feel like doing anything. I suppose you have to do something. What do you suggest, is it better than doing nothing?” 
“ I see.” And she thought about things for a few minutes, and then said : “I would suggest that you pick up the ball and run with it. Rather than just moping around, and tell everyone in the world what you do not want.” 
“I suppose not, but it is hard to do, if your feeling as awful as I do now. It is much more to just move around and hope that someone else does something, that you can stand on the sidelines and cheer for. What to you stand for, anyway. We have to stand for something, and I and out of ideas, presently. So if you have something, tell me what it is, and I will react. That I can do.” 
Unused this role, she said first “Let's go over everything.” 
“I do not want that.” 
“Than you suggest something.” 
With that he realized that doing something is better than doing nothing, and he was going to have lead. That it should come to this. 
With that he stretched out his legs, and started doing something first line of bussiss was to bury the dead, the it time, he got a fire going, then he looked for anything that was of value for shelter at that point he saw something unique. It was the gorgeous figure, figure of a lantern from the back of the ship critter in gold untouched even though rash with other things that had no end no beginning to their ruling. It glistened almost as if it were spelled. It almost felt like it spoke to in. a gleeden into the distance, it had special markings and strange rooms that he had never seen before even if he was looking at them. Like was blue as if a moon, no yet darker still. 
Morwethe disturbed him and asked: “Why are you looking at that?” 
“It's odd, rightly odd. “ He gazed deeply into the setting and the mirrors.
She gazed into it and saw figures. They were not quite human; bear wolf bobcat were all tangled together in an phase. 
“This bothers me a great deal.” She said. 
“It does with me, as I said, distinctly odd.” 
He took out a penknife, and slowly divided it in two more until finally He had it disassembled but there was nothing wrong, or so it seemed. Through is nothing special and so he put back together, and there it was; it was not in the light but in the oil which imparted machine onto it. This was highly unusual and had happened since they got onto the ship. Morwethe helped him put to not suggest anything else. 
Morwethe begin;:“You haven't told me what was going on, with you and her.” she replied elliptically. It was a tangent that he was ready for. Though this madness, yet there is some method to it. 
“There's not much to tell. I don't feel like speaking of it. It is not important to the immediate discussion that we were having. But I will tell you that is important to know exactly what happened, so you may be assured that you can answer, when we get out of this mess that we are in.” 
“As you wish. What is it related to, if I may ask?” 
“That you can have an answer to. It is about the ship that we took off from its home world. It has to do with getting back. As in, not getting back on the same ship.” 
Though she didn't have exactly what is wrong, she knew that they were going to use some other transport. Which was fine with her, she had never liked it to begin with.
So they plotted along then doorway, but climbed so beneath them, it was a doorway from the other ship, and it has a strange marking on it, silver mixed with the black , and speckled with gold. It was mark, made of Z and J combined into one. it to glistened and shook. Reached out for them even though no marking was on. Then it became too hot to handle, and they knew something was wrong. Both Niccolo and Morwethe cast down before them, Morwethe cooled her hands, the word so hot to the touch. Things from above came down as well, fiery and brittle. 
That said, “There are heating up the atmosphere.” Morwethe cried. 
“Yes it seems so.” 
So they put a flame and moved to the side of the opening they had to get moving or they would be engulfed. So they put away all of the things they carried. 
“Even simple things are hard.” 
He turned back and said “If you think that's difficult, I have a feeling that more difficult is to come still.” 
Morwethe nodded. 
They continued to climb up the hill, and then down again. It was difficult because there was no light can seeing was dimly. But they knew something was not right and they could feel that this was not the first boulder that had plunged into this. Nor the second, nor even the third. The trail was difficult and bumpy. As time moved on the were pacing the old light from the shaft and as yet a new light though they did not know what it was.
“Its is eerie. Almost creepy, and macabre, if you don't mind my saying so.” she suddenly realized she was talking to herself, for then anyone else within range. 
“You didn't expect it to be welcome did you?” 
She grunted. “Yes, but there's a particular feeling about this place.” 
He nodded. 
They were at the foot of a mountain there was neither enough light from behind or from below, Niccolo drew his side arm and Morwethe drew a short dagger and they began to scamper upwards. It rankled them because of the thin rivulets and cold and chilly feeling of the darkest air. There was pinching feeling every breath that they took. It was almost as if someone were watching them, indeed Niccolo was looking around. 
Then they sought looming up off the floor, tower about them, though they could to see what was only that it was human in aspect though considerably taller. They both thought it was death because that is the aspect it shown. There was something about it that said this even more than that, it was the shimmering aspect which created a gloomy pall.
“Who are you?” 
“You know want my name. I am Death.” 
Once again Death was not deterrent by their frantic little administrations. He was not interested in their human desires, he was interested one thing, and that was pairing of light of their eyes. That he was very intent of indeed. Though his color was white, is eyes were not they were a kind of blackening lesson that appeared gray, in moments like this. Morwethe realized that most of his baggage was skimmed from bric-a-brac, and only the eyes were his own. The eyes which gave form. The rest was meaningless. Meaningless. 
Then her attention leapt to something else: destroying was also meaningless. They had to breach the eyes, though she understood that the eyes would grow again, it would be a moments respite. A respise that was necessary now that death had their number, and was rolling it every term. Through the darkness she could see its eyes glistening on her forehead. It was the gaze of death and it was upon her. That is when Niccolo grabbed her from behind and shoved her out of the way. It nearly missed him. He fell down and over and was unconscious on the next landing plane. She was on the ground only half way to standing up. Then out over hands team something that she had she had been preparing, out of nowhere above stood out of her hands it gleamed from its fresh creation born out of magic, and then she fired it. 
But Death was not amused, and he shattered the arrow with a wave of his magic. She knew this was it for her, and she clenched waiting for its bolt to rend into her. She fell to her knees and was expecting about to come which never came. She opened her eyes and saw that n had somehow bounced up, and took her place. Getting beam squarely in the chest, and then he flattened and again went backwards. But she was ready, and hold the bow back and studied the bow and loosened it. Death was lit up and going, glowing like a star in the sky. 
This howling morass came down knees first and then arms, until there was nothing left, there were no eyes socket. No eyes in seconds all. In came up shivering, and clawing. Stirred through the ashes, but then nothing. There was nothing in the socket. 
“That will work, the eye sockets are dark.” 
They were on the ground speaking to one another. Murmuring really. As if it were about nothing important. 
“I do not understand, eye sockets. One minute there was Death, and the next minute it was if a dream had passed in through the sockets of world. Is that all there is, death, and then a dream? ” 
“The eye sockets are what gives it its power, everything else is just an illusion. Remember, everything else is just an illusion.” 
“As he and how do we get these out.” She held up a socket which still had life in it. 
Though they could not access its power, but they both could feel it. 
“I don't know, but I know they are the life. Waiting to come out again.” 
Niccolo with his court that wrapped his keychain, and stared at the bottom. 
“How are you sure it's the key?” Holding up the key to the life, metaphorical speaking." 
“Because it's the only thing alive on it.” 
“So you're saying it's lost nothing, just the skin, nothing more.”  
“Than the eyes have vanished it, will take some time to store them.” 
“That this was good news, at least.” 
“We have to destroy the eyes, for it can reabsorb them.” 
“What good will that do?" 
“It will mean that death will not be able to come here for a while.” 
“And, that's the best we can get.” 
“Yes, I'm afraid so.” 
“That if we don't get the eyes.” 
“Then it will be back much sooner, and we will be dead.” 
Niccolo looked up and saw the were 20 feet from the entrance, and that it was large. It was hollowing out. They could see up ahead that it was an opening. In looked at it because it was unfamiliar since last he visited. He leaned back, and over his shoulder, told her that she should wait for a moment. Then he grasped a branch and crawling closer weight the branch in front of the area. Immediately it was hit with something a strange force that clearly came from a weapon, which was faster, either someone was casting magic at it, or it something extraordinarily strange as a weapon. He weaved his hand, and rolled into the side in case it would be looking, inwards even, though it was dark. 
But nothing did. And he crawled up a little more to see what he could see. .He reached the top and saw some light during down on him he could see many islets of land growing away from them all away back to the horizons. He convert this to what he knew and realized that the sun was bright and there was no ledge speak of, and no harbor for the ships. Covering his eyes he scanned to see what he could see. With no land it was clear there was no place to grab onto a ship, then he realized the ship was doomed and with each bomb blast it was shattering, making it so that each was during through and dropping without a trace. Never more to be seen again. 
Indeed he could feel the slippage and looked back, and saw spaces. They were going down if they didn't find something to hold on to. Their work shutters of light streaming up from below, it was clear this was magic, but it was only making stronger.
Among this is going to it is more and more the ground fell away, losing more of its shape. More and more the tunnel was losing its shape, and the ships were plummeting down. 
They had to do something quickly, because the bottom was completely pulverized, and the top would have another barrel moving down its recesses any time now. It is not the that time to open hope and wish that time would worse. 
One was thing up to avoid this even as their footfalls were landing on air, rather than on soot. But nothing was coming in every footfall was loose that much more dirt, that much more grime, that much pouring waste. 
More waste the they knew what to do with. A lot more. 
It was Niccolo, not Morwethe, who wretch aside they hair. Their are some things that men are more prone to an women are. 
This is one of them. Men will stab, and other things, that could not be mentioned in even impolite company, but show them waste, much less excrement, to many of them will not look at it. They will clean it up, but not look at.
Think on that, if you can. 
It was once along time ago, when Morwethe was much younger, much younger then she peered to be. In fact much younger than anyone in the group, including J, which was saying something. You see, there is time, in anyone's life, where they are young, and with most people it really is all that long ago. They are born, and in an instant, they die. There are those who we're here each rather heavily, such as J, all others seem older than they are, which is how it is with <>. than there is M, who looks rather older than she is, and feels alive by the next to other younger people, though she is not one her self. And there is a reason for this. 
People who are old, and want to appear that way, revel in there glory, and as they look out over people who are there and gone, are proud of the fact they will still be here after mice rats dogs cats, yes, and even people, will not be. Though some of them will know it themselves, some of them will. People, for example, know that there will be time that some living things will remember them, they, themselves will know longer know longer be among the living, and their will come a time, that a time that only the stars will be there. And they will look at the briefest second, and no that a few people will look back at them. What they don't know is that some of the living people are right next to them, and they won't know. This is the difference between J, who they know will be living, and Morwethe, who they would not guess would be so. It is a fine distinction, but one that is not lost on a soul who things about these things. 
When Morwethe was known, and did not know that that was a special time in her life, she settled down with a boy, and I mean that literally. She not did have children, and she remained young, though boy became a man, then and hold man, and then died. She was confused, though she did it with mirrors and such, hoping against hope, that she would age just as her boy had aged. Though it was not to be. 
Then one night, when out of darkness, there came a woman, who was older than M had ever dreamed of being. 
“Your none what you think are.” said the old woman. This was an odd start to conversation, the thing say the least, but there was more that she had to say, and gradually it became clear. 
“Who may I say are you, your disturbing myself and my husband.” 
“Your husband has slipped from your grasp. His body is still warm, I hope you have said anything that you were going to say to him.” 
And ordinary human would have checked this, the Morwethe knew it was true, as she knew that many things were to, even though she had not checked. She thought it was just her way with things. There were only a few people in range to compare herself to, so it was strange that she would be different, in this way. 
“You are different from this crowd of people. In fact you're not a person at all.” 
If you were actually a person, this would have been strange to you. You would have started to protest, or explain that that was the case at all, or some such thing as this, but Morwethe knew that it was true, and there was no use denying. 
“It does that concern you, old woman?” Morwethe replied.
“Does it make you wonder why? Because if it does I the answer for you, if you want to here what I have to say.” 
Morwethe creeped the door open, though not Enough to that the woman in. she was not going to do that as yet. 
“You were landed here, and the people who hid you, pretended you were of their own bodies. That was the case, in fact, but with so few people, how was any one to know that?” 
“So what and I if not a person?” 
“ I think your tail will tell you, at least what you are not.” the old woman appeared over her glasses, and stared at Morwethe. And stared. And stared. 
Again, a normal person would have been flustered. But as you can guess, Morwethe was not a normal person, and enlarged the space around the door ever so slightly. She had dreamed of this moment, for all of her life, and finally it was here. She had the it would be different, as if a God or something related to that, would sweep her off of her feet. Instead it was an old woman, which was not what she was expecting at all. 
“Should I go on.” Queried the old woman. “Or are you going to live out your life?” 
“What other life is there to live?” There was actually a question involved here.  
“You were for different. Your not person but one of the hulder things, some of them look human. But only some of them.” 
“What about the rest?” 
“Most of them are boring, toadstools, and such. But a view of the look human, and you are one of them. So if one to look like a toadstool, give it time, and you will be one. But you don't have to be if you don't want to. And we little application, you will be human all of your life, which is a very long time.” 
“What about you?” She looked at the ensemble of her parter, and noted that her gown was older, though finally darn with bunches of innumerable patches, until the point where it resembled a later, which was almost planned. 
“I am slowing down, and a toadstool is not such a bad option.” She pulled out a darning of will, and fiddled it with her hands, “But first I need to rescue a few of the hulder folk, and set them on the right way. If you want to, you can make that decision anytime that you want.” 
Morwethe just nodded, though very slowly, she was convinced that the woman was crazy. But there was truth to her statements, including the fact that there was, in fact, a tale between her legs, though only her husband knew that when he was so recently deceased. She and her husband, both thought it was odd, but again, there were few enough people as to be strange, but not so stranger then anything else that they could take of. Who is to know the difference? Most people had secrets, that they would rather not tell, and most of them would pretend not to notice. 
“So, what do you say.” Continued the older woman. Who was really a very old one of her kind, as Morwethe was a younger one of her kind? 
“What kind of restriction to I have live under, their must be a secret pact, or something like it which I have to observe.” 
“There is a few things that you have to observe, yes” 
“What are they?” 
“The first part is obvious, you can only tell one person at a time.” 
“I assume you mean person, and not a hulder.” 
“That's right. You can tell all of us anything you like.” 
“What else is there?” 
“Why don't we set ourselves down, out here there are things that will blow with wind, and you will get in trouble.” 
And so that is what they did, settle in down in to the cozy cottage, among the group of trees. And they talked for a long time, getting all of the stories straight. As always, there were only a few restrictions, but they have restrictions that have to be followed exactly. And it was in that language of the hulder that the restrictions had to be in. So the older woman had to teach Morwethe the basics of that language, which she knew so well. Morwethe was very fluent, for it was her native language, though she didn't know it. 
It was a long time to teach all of these many topics, and when the old woman left, any means had actually passed. Morwethe was to young, though almost all of the people she grew up with were ancient, or dead. She mourned there passing, but it was different, because no longer felt one of them. After a time, they were all dead, and she herself got up and left. She would wonder world, taking lovers, and doing all of the things that lovers did. Only she would pick up and leave, setting farewell in a letter which was true, and false, at the same time. Then she would settle down, and settle down someplace else, the same thing all over again. 
There are some details that need to be mentioned, such as the original story occurred under ground, far a way from the sun. people who did not live under a true son did not know the difference.

He  sat  and read the entire piece twice. But still he  did not know where the voice came from.

Monday, March 30, 2015

The midline life of J Beetle Senderduky

It was an ordinary day in and are very week. The kind that the narrator likes to say was an ordinary day, though he was not thinking about how their would be loads of stories which when blown up, could get news if one tried. in fact, there were dozens of writers starting out there mood with a variation on "It was an ordinary day", and going off in to some tangent or other, which mirrored their inner demons. not that there weren't inner demons, and plenty of them, but mostly people didn't want to hear about them. in the gauche. Whom want to hear about in her demons of someone un-famous, when there were several famous people to vent. note that: it is easier to make someone with some defect - saying hitting a curveball - then it is to find someone who actually has good observations.

It's not that he had no imagination, it's that he would dream what he dreamed, and then promptly forget about it. in his mind's eye, while it was active, there were vivid and in color shots framed in his extraordinarily sensitive view, but he then promptly forgot about it. until the next night when different scenes portrayed their way from a capture of minds eye, and tell it was in oblivion, promptly forgotten. thus he had many visions, but neither he nor anyone else, would know that in the daylight world that he lived in.

He did not want to be this way. Two doors down, there was a machinist twisting knobs to get it to work better. And doors down from the here he heard someone playing Scriabin number eight Sonata. He had learned that from his neighbor downstairs. Though he was far away, St. Louis was not a bad place, and he was used to it. Though the city was actually small, when the surrounding neighborhoods were included, it was quite large. The population dropped precipitously after the war, from its hiding of more than 800,000 to just 300,000 now. He just wished that he could do something such as play Scriabin, or tumbling dials. Something. But he didn't know what, and didn't know where to begin.

He was gifted with thinking to thoughts at once, though he didn't know it.

Dust to dust, he did not know that he lived in a far more interesting world, because it would be forgotten by the time he woke. in this would happen night after night. If he had an angel, it would weep for despair. So many visions forgotten, and then many more, every day of his life. There were images that were old as medieval times, and those that were far future. And of course everything in between, and sideways. Some visions were about a present time which was not happening, but could be with the right circumstance. He was an auteur only without that special gift: a lens that he could review anything with. And if that was the case, he would not be that interesting. You are I might notice this, but no one who walks with him, and looks at things would find anything unusual.

But on this special day, a picture leaped into his mind, though could not tell from where. This made him stop and stare,because he didn't remember anything like this happening before.Though of course it did, many times,he just didn't know it. It was a small boy, either Chinese or Japanese, or some variation thereof. He didn't know Easterners very well, though he had been learning some. And in this small boys hand was something very particular:. a volume of Dante's Inferno, in translation by John Ciardi. This was a translation that was worn and mangled, as if he had borrowed it from someone older than himself. There are other translation more hip, more smooth, polished if you will. The boy was reading somewhere in the middle, completely engrossed by the world that was centuries out of date, yet completely new.

Once upon a time, the streets would be crowded, and the boy would have been stopped by someone. But now the streets were empty, and the boy continued plodding along, utterly minding his own business off in that private world where the ancient marsh was polluting the air. Then it occurred to him that he had not read the Inferno, either in the original,or in a copy, either by Ciardi or anyone else. He stopped and let that sink in.

“What should there?”

The boy slowly lifted his eyes from the page, and spoke: “I'm reading Dante, though no one my age seems to know much about him.”

“Why Dante?”

“It's interesting, He wants to be a great poet.”

“Seems to me he's accomplished that.”

“I suppose. Though I wonder if he would have done that today.”

“Where stand is where we sit. We didn't know what we do in our day, just as we don't know what we would have done in his day.”

“What we you have done?”

“Probably the same thing only dumber. I'm not very interesting as a person.”

“That's pretty sad.”

“I suppose it is. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Minos is a cool dude.”

“It seems you have a weakness for strong intellectually rigid types.” He wondered where that came from.

“It is cool thing to be.”

He wondered where this person came from, because normally this would not have been the normal course of events. Everything was odd about it, both the tone of voice, and the content. It was almost as if he was speaking to someone much older. But how could that have been the case?

“This isn't the way I expected this conversation to go.” he said it with a fluster.

“How do you want to go. We can start again.”

“You mean, pretend the start again.” As some drips of sweat beaded on his forehead.

“No, I mean really start again, it's only been a minute. Which is not very hard to restart.” Gradually he noticed that the boy was taller, and getting more so.

“Why would I want to.”

“Don't you know? It's only a dream.”

That took him aback. Of course this was real. Then he looked up at the page, and saw that part of dialogue was put in place. And then stopped, and the dialogue stopped as it wrote in that he stopped. This could not be happening.

“You see everything is just dialogue on the page, and you and I are only players.”

J Beetle didn't want to believe this, but he watched as just before the dialogue happened in the real world, it happened on the page of The Inferno.

“What do you want from me?”

“You have been dead for centuries. I want to offer you a chance at life.”

“And what's that?”

“Who would you like to be, from this book?”

“There aren't a lot of choices, have to you get past Dante and Vergil.”

“That's the rub, you have not been much of a life, so you won't get much of a death.” what had been little boy, was now a man, and what had been a busy street, seemed now part of universe. And what's more, J Beetle took these all in stride, as if they were simply part of the story. Part of the riddle of existence, if you will.

“Can't I get another chance?”

“You have had chances, and you forgot all of them.”

J Beetle thought for a moment, as he had never thought before. He wished, and he hoped, and he prayed, for some answer to come to him. And then something did.

“What if I told you that I have figured out how to recapture my youth?”

“That would interest me great deal. If you can.”

Then calling forth all of his imaginary powers, and standing up firm, J Beetle took what he realized was his final chance. “It seems that I have gotten many chances, that I forgot long time ago.”

“Yes, that's the case entirely. And I am here to collect on this.”

“So if I remember these chances, any one of them would transform me in a heartbeat.”

“Unfortunately, you have used up all of your chances.”

“And you won't give me any more?”

“That's not mine jurisdiction, someone else decreed that you were out of chances. I just got sent to find out what you want your punishment to be.”

“Then I want to be the narrator, because then I will knew when chances are to be had.”

And with a blink of an eye, J Beetle was looking down at the Inferno, see all that could be seen, but only for an instant, because many people knew the narrator trick before, and many more would think of in the future. But that was all right because for an instant, he got to experience all of the pains and ecstasies, sitting at right hand of God. Because after all, it was an ordinary day, in the ordinary life.

And who would not want that? So if your thinking  that life  will never stop,  realize that it will and that you will probably not get the same chance that J Beetle got,  which is the decision to be a lump on a log,  their to escape  to a short divine excursion.  instead you should reach out,  and live your life to the fullest.

Friday, March 27, 2015

I should

Bob Brueckl  on Wikipedia. 


 finally some temperatures that are reasonable.

Thursday, March 26, 2015


Warren of Undercurrent - IV


Jehanjir pieced together a good section of Albrecht and Princess, and what's more, is one was straight forward. Of course there were a few twists and turns, but not bad as Niccolo and company. it was clear that this was merrily told in an omniscient narrator, as opposed to narrator who had a stake in the outcome.Then he noticed that many of the ellipsis that he normally wrote with were not there. It was strange, even odd. He did not know why it was happening, but it was happening intentionally. He noted this down in his past codex of information.

It was dark now, and normally, the would go to sleep after supper, which was pretty like a light meal. but he wanted to be sure you got all of the voices down. which was hard, because they were several places which could be for or after. thus there were a few guess to be made. but he had gotten the style, and the narrator, though he used his voice was not ever as clever. so he barely even noticed that there was even difference to be had.

He's thought about his situation more intently than ever before. in his waking plane, he was on a moon that was trying to besiege the planet, and become a new planet in return. One level down from this, he was on a vast bodied plane, which he guest was a planet, and he did know it was not aligned to the seven stars.

He would have to figure out eventually what was real, what seemed to be real at the time, and what was truly a judge from his own point of view. This would be a large project to ascertain. then he was reading papers, some of real, sum of them conjecture, told from many points of view. but each one told the story. one realization was that Higer was probably dead, as well as the Summoner. but he couldn't be really sure of that. does there were at least four planes of existence that he had to track. this was not a great problem for his compendium that was his brain. but for most of the rest of us, it would be a tremendous problem.

Then he stopped for a moment to look up at the sky, none of the stars were in their place. and that would go for you as well, even the ribbon of light known as the milky way galaxy would not be there. Instead there was something wrong. There was light, but it was thinner than the galaxy, and it did not have any where near as much light. Had you looked at it, you would have thought it very odd indeed. In fact, you would have found it as Jehanjir would have. Did not get me wrong, in his own way, he knew as much about stars as could be known. But he lived in a world where there were only seven stars in orbit around them are seven plants, plus a few moons. Thus he would not have thought it even believable for stars to be in different places. It was just becoming known what Dante said about the stars: the were suns only further away. this was actually a new piece of knowledge. Knowledge traveled very slowly in those days.

Thus there were a few stars which were quite bright, more than our in our milky way in fact, but it then diminished rapidly.Aand here was many fewer in the sense of a missed of stars. He deliberated on this, and decided that if he were to stay on that heavy heavy world, he would investigate it, but not until then.
Albrecht pool that the Princess found, and showed him her flowers and thin reeds. They were flowing and warm to the touch around them. There was timber which was either close instead it was distant, has if it were touched by something enormous but unseen. It was as if it were clothes but not that close. Every piece of form was as if it were different then what it seemed. As if someone was doing something with it, as if someone were doing something with it. It was almost as if one could see a presence that was not there, and if the presence that was there was different from what seemed right. It was almost as if the site, and the sound, were not the same thing at all. It would be hard to explain, but it was very real. And so each flower each petal each leaf was different on the outside versus what was on the inside. 
Everything was verdant and enriched by all of the loveliness around it. As if each one were the same but yet different. There were flowers of every different hue, and every different color, in between these there were stocks, and greenery in wide abundance, with shops of water between each of them holding itself in other times. There was wonderment in each looking glass. There were bushes, each was then flaccid, each one is different. As all of the others, a bounty of different textures, and then it hit that this was a core, that could not be distinguished. It was planned in some way that could not be described, only ordered, if that makes any sense. 
When seeing this order, it was more clear more succinct in its clarity, more refined their ordered changed the way it felt . Order but estranged order. 
“The underworld is here, and it is not damaged in any way look.” 
She saw, and she understood, how flowers had stood for a long time. And they were not going anyplace. She saw that the flowers were still undamaged, almost pure, which meant that they were standing to. 
“How is possible we were only a few inches from the end they parched up.” 
“That is the beauty outside its parched but inside it's not.” 
“It's so gorgeous, as if an illusion.” 
They were in a grotto with stones everywhere piling up to the sky. Beyond that there were fields of wheat and rye pushing up to the top. And there was no new sun. Instead there was something that bubbly like a brook, and clear as if no sun was required. It looks like water, but it's pale . and creamy, frothy, and clear. It was liquid, of some time, with an aftertaste that wet foam. It was a merriment aghast of true delight, not because of the flavoring or the taste rather, in describe it way it felt ,tingle would be one way to describe it. 
A memory pattern escaped her lips it was beautiful. 
“How does it do that. I don't understand what is going on.” 
“These illusions are not real, it's only a reflection that makes our thoughts.” 
She nodded. 
“What is illusion is visible, or does it mean something else?” 
He took the side branch, and instead something inside closed. It turn, and turned up. She looked at it quite shocked, and then did so herself where she grasped. That while it looked like it was not the same thing at all. 
“These are not what they seem to be. We only pick and choose, not understanding that we give meaning, but underneath there is a different story entirely, which we do not see.” 
“They are images not facts. They are not designed to ensnare, but to render and give some illusion to our thoughts.” 
“I ask again what are they? If not illusions as such. I do not see them with the power that I possess.” 
“That's because it's not a trick , not something that you do. Its something that is trying to make sense to us, who do not understand.” 
“Then why did you know this?” 
“That is because this body is not the person you think it is. With that he grew a second head in sprouted up to 10 feet of his body was orange and is hair was black as black. She suddenly drew back from this apparition and realized that it was something that she knew, it was fledgling god and she did know where she was at all. 
“Where are we?” 
Everything was really different instead of trees dimple wide bushes and scads of flowers was grass, instead green and verdun, it in green and yellow as it was dry but not too dry. Instead of ripening it was tall but somehow deep. But it at least looked right by the world. 
He did not answer but merely stretched his enormous forelimbs. 
She realized that he was going to fight her, and she should be on the ready. It was at this moment that she knew what to do and a little voice from deep within told her what to do. She was not an adult but a child listening to instruction along that many moons ago that she hid. The time when she was fascinated by the roosters getting ready to fight each other. Each one cared and paired for such a contest as this, each one being groomed for this one moment. To fly to fight and only to announce one step once one really felt that in the bones. But she was not going to launch with her body but with her mind. Thus while her opponent was wide, she was narrow. Were as he was wide she was nimble. Where he was hulking, she was tight. In every way she was different from him. 
Then he spoke: “Why do you torture yourself this way you only know it will end badly.” 
It was her turn not to speak, instead she moved arms akimbo. 
“To really think this is necessary? Here for body will be broken for the reason. All of it for not.” he again taunted. But each person moved again greater advantage, each one fashioning a decided feature that they were going to live and die by. They were feeling each other out and there was no going back. 
Then it was over before it began, he jumped figuring that no one could expect him that far away, that close at hand. He spiraled and thought he was going to land, instead he grimaced as her foot grabbed him as she flung her way back. He landed on his back struggling to get quickly but struggling to find that he could not move. 
She were cat-quick, and Instead of flailing she balled up in a single thread in when she reached the arc of her assent then and only then did she unhinge and punch him in the gut. She then returned to a little ball. That was all that was necessary for her. 
Over on his stomach he wrenched and pressed and did all those things which someone would do in that circumstance. Meanwhile she dropped in to a hunch position, with her eyes over him. She stared at him intently as making motion, there was none coming just the growl. 
She looked around to see whether A could be visible, and grasp the real, not fake vision that she had been taken into. She saw a and realized that his plan was to grab a then use the time to make a glamour which she would be surrounded by. She also realized that this glamour would not be for long and that he would take her down. She rushed over to a and hunted for breath at the same time looking for life in the body of Albrecht. 
“You came for me.” 
It was a moment that all of them realized was haunting, but neither one wanted it to be recognized. 
“What happened here, are you all right? “ She realized that was the wrong thing to say and she bit her lip and changed her tone. “I would hate that have someone injured in my presence.” 
He glanced at the body and saw it shrinking before his very eyes, he pointed to it still not moving. She glanced down and saw unraveling as well she offered her hand and he accepted it. He skipped up almost as if nothing had happened to him. They both went over and saw a form which was human in the nature. It was still grunting but it looked as if it was conscious now. It blurred but it had light back in its eyes.
It moaned and side. 
“I had only two destroy you, and then I would have been done. Then I will decay, and die, as all things must do.” The was a burbling rush, and a giggle, which was to 
emphasize that it did matter what happens to the body. As far as it was concerned, the bodies purpose was done. And no one would take control out. There was something chilling about this, even though the body was still inhabited, that it did not care in the least was shocking. 
“Had your money on the wrong horse. “Albrecht replied, with the air of nonchalance, which the life the shocking nature of what he had just heard. On the inside, he was screaming at a temporary body which was for only one purpose, and then would gone in a flash of light. As if that was the way of things. A didn't know any better, in any case. 
“He expect us to fall into the trap?” Contributed the Princess. “That seems rather foolish, do not you think? While we are not perfect, we are not in a sense word, dead, as yet, and may not be so for a little while yet to come. What gives you the assurance that we will be dead at your leave, anyway.” 
“I would be the employee of the greatest movement that this planet has ever seen. If I could readily know that, but I have a good feeling on this.” Reply what ever it was that inhabited the body, for the instant. 
“It seems that you back the wrong horse then.” 
“Spare me please.” It eyes glistened. 
“Why should we asked the Princess you were not going to spare us at all.” 
“I can do things to you that are much worse than you can ever dream about.” said spirit that inhabited the body. 
“And how could we trust you?” Albert was sticking a knife in, and trying to get some reply from it. 
“It's not what it appears to be. I had a choice between killing you, and being killed myself. You would have taken the same deal. At least I hope would.” both Albrecht and Si-yeona noticed the same thing, it had existence, and even though it would have only a little bit more, it was going to take just that little bit more, even if it meant butchering.
Si-yeona understood this and said: “And they gave you powers I noticed.” because in fact she didn't know if it had the power, or not. But she was guessing that they had given it the power, and sent it off to use it, as if it were a prison guard which was hoping against hope that it would be spared in some way, though it had no hope this, in fact. 
“On loan, yes, they did.” This was in fact confirmation, there were more powerful beings charge. They only animated this, for some purpose which the Princess did not understand yet, would if she had anything to say about it. 
Albert gathered a dagger, and said: “That is not the way to bring us on to your side.”
A whimper came up. 
“I think he's being reasonable, actually. If we bind it we can move on.” 
“We do have to kill it, there is no other way to bind it and then have some minion free it when we are over the next hill. And that would be the end of us most assuredly.”
Moan went up from its lips. 
As he was speaking, he blind wounds, and spiked in the hands behind is shoulder. It was tight, very tight indeed. 
“So what are you going to do? There's no more time to waste.” 
“All be good, I promise you. Just don't hand me back to Death.” 
This her turned head, toward him. “What do you have for us, that made me think you're not going to betray us at the first signs of danger?” 
“Because I would have already.” 
“Thats new, first was your idea and then we were forced to take it which is it and how would we trust you on that.” 
A wimp crept up on to its face again. 
“Is clear that you have something drastic.” 
“What do you have in mind, my dear.” 
“Yes, I do.” She pull a pill, but not a dry one, but one of slickness and bile. She crufted it, as to cup it. “Do you know what is?” She reared over his face. He nodded, slowly. 
“It's a sickening pill, and you want to feed it to me.” 
“That's right this first one makes you sick. Two, makes you dead.” 
“We can be reasonable is not that hard.” He vomited only slightly as he uttered these words. 
“That time is long past and, you know it open up your mouth.” 
He tried to close his mouth, but Albrecht was behind his head and directing it. Slowly it came in, vomiting more as he went when finally he could not take it any more. 
And then it was done. There was a pool of blood as he washed down. He almost could not take it and then it was swallowed. He was trying to spit it out but he could not. Long coping pause, he had swallowed it. Finally a wretch finished the job, forced his hands in and checked to make sure that all was done. It was. 
“How was that was a tasty I'm sure was.” The evil listened from her voice has if it were naturally there. Would you like another? She left a cruel laugh. 
“No, no, please. “ He wheezed, and then he chortled. Finally he retched again. It was unpleasant for all concerned, though of course he was the brunt of it. 
“Could then now you know what it feels like. A view seconds you'll know what it tastes like as well. It will not be pleasant I assure you of that.” She looked up into the sky, and then down upon his figure and she knelt down and her eyes glistened. She was holding his mouth up, cooling at. He retched again, and looked to swoon. But he was not allowed to, because a did not allow him to but instead pulled back on his throat. 
“We do want that, do we?” 
An actual point of fact neither Albrecht nor  relished the job that they had sent for them selves, but they would not betray their confidence. Because it was that confidence, that sent them on their way. It was the gleam in the eyes, twist on the lips. The overall menace that both of their faces behind that made them so menacing, so wrought with evil. But you would not notice it except for a few patches here and there, which would have shown matters quite different. 
Monster leaned up, and over truly looking sick. But still standing. In the day took him slightly taller than they leaned him up. He, again, retched. 
“It is going to work, it isn't going to work.” Albrecht spat. The prisoner looked the worse for wear. 
“If you keep the fiddling with your mouth it will never get hat way.” Observed Albrecht.
“Why do you shall, please.” Chimed the Princess. 
They moved along, grimacing and moaning. Keyword to hills away before anyone said anything. The trees were coming dark and there was no sign of life to be had, just brittle
and the ornate tree. Slowly they realized there was no sky and the arc was moving down. It was a very slow process but it was there. 
We have to move faster not slower. “Observed.” the Princess. 
By this point they were more than a mile, but even that had been total failure. Was very clear that this roundabout pathway was not going to solve anything. 
“What do you suggest?” 
It was then she realized that this was no ordinary goings - on but something special. And that meant looking around and seeing what was the matter. Because if they did not being pricks would be as mountains were. 
“This way is to slow.What is more it was known to be to slow. It was known by something conscious. It was a trap, perhaps by the same force that laced up being on the back. "
With one enormous punch Albrecht lightened the load by one thing he could: there captive. It was a jolt not to just him but everything moving in their vicinity. The monster came to life as he had never been so before.

There was, of course, many defects. Names had been abbreviated, There were some places where it was not clear who was speaking. Even with all of that, there was a liberty and freedom in the presence of the written document. It stood there as if it were a rough draft, waiting to be polished by some insidious editor, one who was completely concerned about punctuation.

He himself, picked at a few places, when he realized, that someone, or someone's, Were renting through his own hand. and now it felt, well creepy was not the word, and honestly he didn't know the word. but it was a distant memory with someone else writing the words. As if a at least four other people were taking turns composing their own version of events. it was almost as if they were competing to post letters and jockey for their own point of view. And that included Death. Which was interesting, because he would not have thought that Death would pay any attention to it. But in this bricolage of words, that is what he could feel.

He looked up out over the tree lined courses, and saw what looked like chrysanthemums.But then realized that they were not flowers at all, but bristles masquerading as flowers. It was as if it was towards the beginning of the world, but not a child but instead the first flex of the beginnings of man.