Archive for the ‘Authors’ Category
More on the Mallard Guardian of Martin Sussex
Monday, September 21st, 2009
More On The Mallard Guardian of Martin Sussex
Your Foul Eminence, we have uncovered more information on the Grade XXVII Entity that is currently guarding Martin Sussex.
a) When Martin Sussex (infant homosapiens, suspected host of the Masticator of Worlds) was first identified as a potential god-skin, a consortium of extra-dimensional nay-sayers sent a team of assassins into the child’s nursery. They consisted of a crow, a pair of greyhounds, and a King Brown snake. While they succeeded in devouring Martin in the first instance, the duck made his first appearance in the wake of this bloody feast. By means unknown this self-appointed guardian not only destroyed the assassins, but negated their existence by three generations. This not only saved the child, but changed the course of the Jharbeth XIV dynasty and caused the collapse of the New Zealand economy.
b) The parents of Martin Sussex were no longer dead, but were very concerned at the continual appearance of a Greenland Mallard in their child’s nursery. It would reappear in the room whenever removed, despite all of their efforts to exclude the creature. Apart from cleaning up its excrement, the parents have given up and carefully avoid discussion of “that goddamned duck”.
c) The guardian has been extremely vigilant, devouring all of our spies and fouling our instruments beyond repair. It appears to be operating on several planes of existence simultaneously, and has firmly repelled attempts to place time stasis on Martin, attempts to harm his parents, and one attempt to destroy the Earth itself. It does seem partial to licorice all-sorts, but has rejected the poisoned ones. We are considering placing a Keaurtian Snaffler in the toilet cistern, as the duck frequently drinks from it.
More as we learn it,
Field Agents X and Y.
IN THE SHRINE OF THE MONKEY KING
Friday, September 18th, 2009
Today’s story continues from the Boon of the Monkey God
The Chinese government told me the shrines simply did not exist. But here, thousands of miles away from Costa Rica I stare into the passionate eyes of the Monkey King himself, a solemn figure carved from obsidian stone. This avatar is so different than the bright, brazen, childlike images illustrating the ancient tales. So different than the earthly, visceral persona associated with the mysterious mythological figure I had come here seeking. The statue embodied the “King” aspect of the Monkey King. Old and solemn with wisdom and introspection brimming behind his mischievous but tired countenance. I hoped I could reach this side of him. The fate of two souls and an entire country depended upon it.
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I pay the monk and share four bottles of wine with him and begin to think I would get no more than his kind entertaining presence, sketches of Chinese characters, and proclamations in broken English.
“Life Okay !”
“Life no drive you ! You drive life !”
Then he stands. His limbs contort, ape-like and he dances across the floor like a simian in the trees. The Monkey King was in him!
“Last year you granted a boon,” I say. “The wish of two souls desiring to be alone with the monkeys.”
Thanks to the Monkey King, Costa Rica was now empty of humans and higher thought, except for the two wish makers. Any person venturing there instantly devolved to their base instincts and lower selves.
“They only wished to leave the heavens behind. In a world free of sutras. Free of the shackles of reason,” says the Monkey King.
“I beseech you to end it.”
“What makes you think I can?”
“The stories say you are a creature of both earth and the heavens..”
“It was they who made it happen, so it must be they who must end. it. I can allow you to keep your mind if you go. But you must convince them.”
The monk sits, a bedraggled monarch on a throne. The smokey air swirls and an oval forms before the statue. A portal.
Through the haze I see the lush tropical Costa Rica on the other side. The Monkey King has given me a path.
Smelling the jungle I want to leave reason behind. Was I here to rescue the children and to save the country or to give in to the boon myself?
The monk promised safe passage, but I sense I might really absolve myself of the reason of the heavens like all those who came before me if I walk through.
I lift my foot. Is it wisdom or mischief I see in the old monk’s eyes? I can’t tell.
– END-