STORY SNIPPET #2 EXCERPTED FROM
THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION BY
MIKE EYE
…FROM EPISODE ONE / CHAPTER 7…
MAGDALENA CAME THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE ON HER BELLY, crawling amongst the most horrendous fragments of carnage and corrosion imaginable. Rebirthed into a sheer devilish disorder of pure mayhem, the woman found herself atop a steep mound of large clumps of cement, overturned dead-maggot-infested dry soil, and broken glass shards, all smeared with blood and soot. She stammered to her feet waywardly, placing palms to knees, hunching over, panting heavily within the dome helmet locked about her head, sweat dripping from her face onto the curved glass of it inside. She raised her head up to look at the heavens above.
It was pitch-black out with not a single star to be seen in an abysmal sky.
And directly above her was the proverbial Moon of Earth, glimmering softly, blanketing the wrecked planet with a gentle, lustrous mist, the only remaining luminary visible. Lina could sense the forlornness of the Moon, connecting with its desire to mingle in the night sky with its smaller celestial sisters as it had Once done.
But, alas, it remained all by its lonesome.
Total devastation encircled the tense Lina for as far as she could see, and toxic grey and black fumes were wafting around everywhere, with pieces of thin, wispy seared fragments caught in the mix. Biohazard poisons spoiled the air. Fierce, massive fire pits lay burning Wholeheartedly in countless numbers at every direction she turned. It was a dismal display of despair that stretched on and on.
Grim as Fuck.
Examining the hot surface up close, she could see more tiny dark swirls drifting outward from a hot surface of the fucked Earth. Lina was completely devastated by all she sensed around and within her, but she somehow, oddly enough, felt united with it in a very depressing way. And as if she wasn’t already wrought with the highest degree of turmoil, she then noticed the bottom of her dress on fire.
Intuitively, without thinking twice, she dropped, tumbling down a treacherous hill of ruins.
At the bottom of a pile of wreckage, in total disarray, she once again found herself upon the ground. She kicked her feet around impulsively to put out the last of the flames and then paused, trying to gain composure.
She breathed in, out.
Tremendously aggravated, she lay there on her belly, cursing aloud. There were only first-degree burns she would have to sustain, possibly some second-degree ones. Lina could feel the fiery heat upon the surface of the baked Earth. She was covered with a great deal of blackened sludge and grunge. She tried going to her happy place again, and eventually, with great effort, was able to return to outerspace to watch herself dance, but still found herself alone. And try as she might to bring forth other friendly, familiar entities into her Mind’s Eye, they just would not come.
Lina felt that familiar opposing force she loved to hate creeping up on her, attempting to taint her essence and prevent her from reaching the vastest of her imagination. She looked down at her dress to notice how thoroughly dull and null it had become. Her spirits dampened.
It would seem that Magdalena had given all of her loving to the ground lately, as she continuously found herself down upon it and back again.
A bruised, miserable Magdalena wearily pushed herself up, dusted herself off, and again looked around, trembling despite herself. In the Moonlit darkness, she could see piles and piles of wrecked mortar, broken cement structures, and pieces of bricks and wood, completely destroyed, all coated with a dark, slimy, shadowy substance. She dared not imagine the types of foul odors that were wafting through the air beyond her helmet. Nor the powerfully activated energies of intense radiation poisoning the spoiled atmosphere. The detonation of the mighty, most momentous sperm-bomb of Fletcher Munsin had no doubt hit within the past hour, the woman surmised.
Noxious gases of a sick symphony plumed up from the hot surface of Earth’s black opera, dancing to a Damned discord with the thick rhythm section of a murky sky, whirling around with effervescent particles of filth fiddles, adding their high-pitched staccato shrills to the overly melodramatic, but oh-so-empty theatrics. Blood and oil and other various expedient liquids seemed spread out over the surface of everything. Unidentifiable junk was scattered everywhere. Lina saw deep craters blown into the surface of what had Once been the Earth, dared not look into them. No structures remained standing; no trees nor any other life-forms were still existing. Death and decay had seized everything.
As far as she could remember, Mother Magdalena had never seen anything like this before.
As soon as her Heart-rate decreased a bit, the Mother paused to contemplate her updated predicament. Where was she to go? What was she to do? Why was she even to have any desire of living in a post-apocalyptic world of such sheer devastation? ”Because your purpose is to procreate prolifically, no matter what!!” she answered her question aloud, remembering what Solaria had demanded of her. She had done a rather good job at that, she thought, up until the fission had fortunately finally finished off the family circle of the fatherland.
”And who am I to mate with now?” she asked herself aloud, at Once feeling very sexually aroused. She looked around in despair at the desecrated land. “I may as well be dead myself. I have no hope in this world of chaos,” she said to herself with utmost seriousness, her wide Eyes blank. “I cannot imagine any survivors to be wandering this Damned Earth.”
She caught sight of her trusty scepter sticking out from beneath the rubble, picked it up. She began using it as a walking stick as she strode wearily away from the crash sight. After a few steps, she looked behind, saw her dilapidated smoking spacecraft smashed into the blackened Earth. She felt gratified thinking about her ship’s special walls and force-field, and how they had just prevented her from becoming virtually vaporized in the flash of an instant.
She managed to wean out a half-grin, but it was a nervous half-grin.
The front-end of the ship was buried beneath the ruins, appearing as if it had made a direct nose-dive, smashing full-force into the devastated planet. It was a disturbing sight to behold, and Lina for some reason felt that there must be some special explanation for her having survived the crash. Wincing as a pulse of pain flared up through her head-wound, Magdalena continued to question her purpose in the renewed world. A thickening dark smoke was drifting upward from the downed craft, and she could see a fierce, hungry blaze overtaking the greater part of it.
”Wow, I made it out just in time,” she thought to herself.
Turning her back to the blazing wreckage, she trudged aimlessly through the dark slimy gook of her dead land with a heavy sigh. She started to feel severely depressed.
After having trudged through the ruins for about fifty yards, she heard a loud explosion behind her. She turned around to see her destroyed spaceship engulfed in flames, which had just ignited a combustion as it had come in contact with the ship’s fuel supply tank. She stood and watched as the flames grew thicker and thicker, the dense black mushroom puffs they produced bellowing upward, dispersing with the morbid exhaust in the sickened sky to create a sinister smog of gloom that offered the Mother a swoon.
Magdalena stared through the dome around her head at the menacing blaze flaring upward, her Eyes bulging. She felt a forceful urge to immerse her vision within the fire, its flickering flames reflecting themselves over her glassy Eyes as she glared at it in a trance.
“Thank you,” she murmured faintly.
Then, the Mother felt forced to focus her glance to the center of the largest of the beckoning flames which was bluish-white and brilliant and at the heart of the wreckage. She instantly felt a powerful connection with it. And abruptly, the dread Lina had been feeling instantly turned to bliss, and she looked on in wonder. She felt as if she were hallucinating, but she knew she wasn’t. At least she didn’t think she was.
The flames possessed her and she became One with them.
Her consciousness now spiraling inside an enchanting void, Magdalena could feel the bluish-white naval of the flame communicating with her. Through her Eyes, it spoke to her in the language of infernal malice. And through her slashed forehead it shot a heavy stream of radiance, un-tapping a supreme, archaic, psychic knowledge.
”MOTHER MAGDALENA!” it spoke out, not with words, but with a voice of pulsating, psychoactive, telepathic illumination. Her spirit was directly locked onto the center of the flame, embracing its offerings.
”IT IS I, SOLARIA,” it proclaimed with pulsing pumps of energy. “DO NOT FORGET! YOUR PURPOSE IS TO PROCREATE PROLIFICALLY, NO MATTER WHAT!!
“YES! PROCREATE! [-DISDAINFUL SOLARIZED CHUCKLES-] BRING FORTH A MORBID MYRIAD OF DOOMED DRONES, COUNTLESS BASTARDS OF FRUITLESS FLESH WITH HEARTS THAT BEAT IN VAIN, TO EXPERIENCE PAIN IN THIS WORLD OF HATE! THAT IS WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT!” The hot essence of Solaria fiercely emitted its version of menacing laughter.
Fixed in an endless reverie, a blank expression on her face, Magdalena’s Ajna chakra had become fully stimulated, and blood now gushed outward from the gash in her forehead, bursting through the bandaging, squirting all over the inside of her helmet’s transparent dome, completely obstructing her view with a crimson flush. Proving that she could not be disconnected in any way from the almighty nexus now communicating with her, the triple optics of the Mother then pierced through the ruby veil of her helmet’s dome with activated brainwaves of eternal intent, physically parting the obstructing splattered blood outward from three small, perfectly rounded areas of the blood-soaked dome around her Head, correlating to her three beams of vision.
Magdalena continued to listen to Solaria, staring, all-Eyes, directly into the depths of the inferno.
”You will find ways,” it went on. “Your encounter with the essence of Lachrylon has proved worthy, Mother,” it conveyed to the woman through it’s dark naval. Solaria was now being fed with Mother Magdalena’s commanding brainwaves of eternal intent as it supplied its powerful lifeblood to the flickering flames that were now blazing with intense fury.
”Look inside yourself. You will find life there,” it went on. “It is to thrive by any means necessary. It is to mutate. It is to replicate. It is to mingle. It is to suffer.”
Fully aware now of her own Wickedness, Magdalena now raised her arms to the smutty air and unleashed a most Evil cackle. With her Eyes and Head-wound throbbing immensely, the Mother now embraced her physical pain with an uncanny dose of delight as she entreated upon the twilight of the heavens.
”Take this pendant of infinite life,” announced Solaria. A miniature searing meteorite cometed out from the Vesica Piscis of the forceful flame, blowing through some wreckage upon Earth’s surface as it clanked against some debris in the distance. “Keep it close, and you will always have the ability to receive a worthless seed from a worthless man in a worthless land… and with an incomparable potent pleasure, I may add.
Magdalena grinned.
“Also, take this special shield of Pure Luminance. It will prevent any chance of your body withering away.” A blob of pulsating photons emanated from the naval of the flame and dripped itself down like some liquid light beside the pendent.
“Remember, Magdalena, you are to extend your physical branch outward, allowing more branches to grow off of it, bringing about a pitiful family tree of prosperous life with no meaning, sprouting pitiful human creatures to live pitiful, worthless lives! I will henceforth forward all siphoned-off sacred energy gained to Polaris. It is the proper way of living life on Earth! Ensure by any means that the female leaves are fertilized. You are to bring forth as much physical life as you can, periodically slaughtering male beings in Sacrifice to ME. Believe in yourself, as I believe in you, Mother, because I have felt all that you have created before. I know what you are capable of.”
The Mother stood fixed in a deep daze, acknowledging every self-styled word that this fierce, compelling Force was conveying to her most matter-of-factly.
It went on:
”This time, attempt to increase the worldly population to higher than it has ever been before. But do not forget this, Mother Magdalena: YOU ARE NOT IMMORTAL…
A pause.
“You will not see me again for a long while, Mother.”
Another pause.
“I HEREBY GRANT YOU YOUR SEASONAL REBIRTH AND ONCE AGAIN ANOINT YOU ‘MOTHER MAGDALENA,’ THE ETERNAL HEART IN THE BODY OF ALL HUMAN BEINGS. NOW FUCK OFF!”
Then, mysteriously, defying the very nature of nature, the blazing fire began to swiftly shrink, smaller and smaller, until it was again a tiny flickering flame. And then, before Lina’s very Eyes, as all three of them still remained fixed onto the flame’s bright, blue-tinged naval, the mighty fire impossibly collapsed unto itself, the last of the smoke dissipating above where Solaria had been smoldering Its sanctity.
Lina’s little silvery space-pod had completely disappeared.
And then, just for a moment, just for One undying instance in space-time, a wash of fourth-dimensional dark light intensely drowned out everything, promptly flashing a blank whiteness so pure, it blinded Magdalena’s Third Eye permanently.
Within this secret Samhadi, this unchanging moment in time-space, which only seemed to last for a fraction of a second, the woman remembered something about her Spirit that was so fundamental and obvious that she became disappointed in, and embarrassed with, herself for ever forgetting it: she again realized that she had never before been a baby, that her essence was habitually renewed in the manner of this Ajna-smearing by the almighty Solaria, just for this moment right now. The activation of this almighty “At-One-ment” never failed to indicate to her the realization that she had Once again finally fulfilled her purpose for existing in the human form, and it always marked a powerful transition through and into a new age.
The Mother glared down at her flat belly and placed her left hand upon it, remembering there was no belly button there. She felt special, but also recognized the fact that she was, alas, a mere mortal, and had to be extra careful that she wouldn’t get herself killed. She realized also that she, herself, was in fact her own Mother, and, just as the rife Moon, persisted powerfully and with just as much personal solitude as an illuminated satellite of a greater entity that was itself an illuminated satellite of a greater entity that was itself an illuminated satellite of a greater entity, all entities of which were Once One.
The Mother peered up at the Moon most solemnly, and upon Sight of it, collapsed Headfirst into a deep slumber. -MIKE EYE 
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DARK ESOTERIKA 