Chapter 7
Fletcher Munsin’s eyes flew open, and he just laid there on his back from within the metal machine in a state of confused shock, his swirling blurred vision slowly straightening out around the breadth of his Awakening intro-spectacles. The transparent cover of the machine he was in had been left off, and when the man— now Birthing at the pre-fixed ripe age of 33— gained consciousness he shakily began lifting his upper body arise, altogether experiencing for the first time an intense sense of familiarity, shame, and fear as he did so. Those feelings would stay with him endearingly throughout his lifetime. He somehow instinctively knew to then proceed removing the thick tubes jutting out of his back at each chakra point that were attached to the inside of the machine, ripping them out one-by-one from the base upwards, as he Birthed out a new Body that was part-Human, part-Sirian, and part-Divine: the Holy manifest Shadow of Al Rodnam Delivered into live physical form.
Other than Dark autonomous emotions, Fletcher Munsin possessed no memory or recognition of much of anything besides the Knowledge of the English language. He was partly shaken the moment he recognized the super-energized Solar Logos circuits emanating fiercely in pulses from a small slightly yellowish-glowing tree branch that was sitting on a flat surface beside the metal machine. He steadily arose, shaking slightly, taking his time to reach for the little glowing tree branch, knowing intuitively the size of its worth as he could feel its energy amplify more and more intensely with his approach.
He stumbled seven times but soon had the sacred Wood in his right fist and could feel it surging with beaming Super-Solar Wyrd Power. He had just been born but he could already make the mental connection between words and solar energy, and this Wood in his grasp was emanating the perfect union of the two. A wide self-assured grin spread across the handsome face of Fletcher Munsin as he felt the power of this energy humming from its core, recognizing a Language he felt impossibly used to, and he Knew it was because he had somehow Spoken these same Words before. Not aloud, of course, for Fletcher Munsin, for all his grasp on the grammar and phonetics of the English language, seldom Spoke a Word; almost everyone he’s ever known thinks he’s a Mute. It was and will be the same for each of his Incarnations and multiplicities.
Befittingly, it was immediately subsequent to this revelation that Fletcher Munsin noticed the twinkling words floating in a holographic display above the nearby main console of the bunker’s central computer. He stumbled over to them and began reading the floating message with a swelling curiosity:
My Child,
My name is Al Rodnam. I both, created you, and are you, at the same time. Call me Father if you like, but that is not what I am to You. My Higher nature encompasses many humanoid Sirian-hybrid beings across many galaxies. You are One of them. The Stargate in front of you leads to One of the Sirius Sectors, and your body is biologically capable of passing through it successfully. Go there to explore where your Soul came from, if you choose, but, beyond the metal door behind you lies a magical, mystical wonderland of true beauty and bliss. It is Agartha, the Inner-Urth, and it is filled with jungles having tropics that couldn’t exist upon its counterpart land: Surface-Urth, the world Above, that is really Below.
Reflectively, those Above call this Inner-Urth the Underworld. It is filled with many marvelous mythical creatures of lore, all of which are real and most of which are amiable. But none of which are like You. Human. Except One other that ventures down to this Kingdom from time-to-time with a mysterious High serpent creature, to the magical Pond of Breña, the actual, real Fountain of Youth. She will persuade You to go with her to Surface-Urth, but You must not go with her. If You do, She and Her brethren will fool you into a sick game, torture You, and eventually, Kill You. You must trust me, for You are me.
One last thing. I must tell You that I am truly sorry I wasn’t there for your Awakening, and am even more sorry that I won’t be able to join You for several years, unless of course You choose to go up to Surface-Urth with the Lady Magdalena, of which you must not do, in which case, you and I are likely never to meet Face-to-Face. I know you’ll take care of us. ˜Signed, Al Rodnam of Sirius and Urth.
It took several long minutes for the gravity of the message’s contents to settle down upon Fletcher Munsin. Unbeknownst to him, for each minute he contemplated, indeed for every minute that went by on Inner-Earth, about a week and a half will have passed up on Surface-Earth; Fletcher Munsin would remain unaware that the passage and keeping of time on Agartha took a far slower pace than its inside-out counterpart.
It made no sense to him. He felt angry and addled. Despite his pre-loaded age and Knowledge, Fletcher Munsin was just as naïve about undergoing the Birthing process and its aftermath as any baby being born might be, yet equipped with Insight, and it was overwhelmingly impossible for him to understand what the Hell was really going on, in and around him. Still, just minutes into his new life, the man already had enough wit to ask himself: is this how all humans were born? To wake up cold and alone, plugged to a metal machine in a small place, with all kinds of unrecognizable computer processing equipment strewn about? Do all humans look like me? Are there others similar to me Awakening in the same fashion? If so, how many? Thousands of questions wracked his mind all at Once at an impossible velocity.
But then Fletcher Munsin set his thinking very pensively on his Identity. This “Al Rodnam” had written that he— indeed both he and himself— were Human and Sirian, whatever that meant exactly. His head turned and glared at the massive rune-inscribed stone ring Stargate at the head of the room. A Stargate to Sirius, supposedly. Go there to explore where your Soul came from, the message had read. And I’m supposed to do it alone without any guidance? the man responded to himself silently in resentment and awe. The message said I would have to wait years for you to show yourself. How long is a year? he wondered cluelessly, indeed not having lived yet an hour. Of course, he knew the answer to that question technically speaking— he just had no idea what it meant. Although feeling frightened and insulted that his alleged creator wasn’t there to greet him into the world, and supposedly wouldn’t show for some time, however long of a time it might be, Fletcher Munsin’s body bubbled up with immense excitement as he envisioned what it might be like to travel to his place of origin and discover who he really was.
But Fletcher Munsin also thought of where he currently was. Wow. A happy, magical place, supposedly, just beyond his here birth chamber. Jungles filled with all sorts of exotic creatures. With a Fountain of Youth somewhere— that intrigued him, though he remained young himself. He was also curious about who this Lady Magdalena was. How is it that this alleged creator of mine, this Al Rodnam, claims to know my future? he wondered. Is he me from the future? No— the message had said Al Rodnam had a “higher nature.” But that he was also me. Hmm… The man remained puzzled and frustrated as he tried to process everything that was happening to him. Emotions were strung high, and it Hurt.
As he was considering many different things at once, the man caught sight of what appeared to be a roll of fuzzy grey robes, neatly folded over the arm of a leather couch close-by. He went to retrieve them, and though he grasped the robes in his hands, he could not make out the material. Instinctively, Fletcher Munsin slipped them about his naked frame regardless, tying them together with an attached cord. He noticed right away how mega-soft the robes were and he smiled the first smile of pure contentment in his Life. He also noticed what he wouldn’t recognize to be a pocket knife inside one of the inner-pockets.
Then he glanced back at the Gate. Despite how immensely he wanted to travel to his home space sector and investigate his origins, the wondrous appeal of the magical Inner-Earth and its friendly inhabitants dominated his immediate curiosity. I suppose I can always return to this Gated shelter in the future after I’m done exploring the jungles out there, he thought to himself. All I would need to do is mark my passage in the trees along the way somehow, and if good fortune follows me I should be able to find my way back.
So, after retrieving the glowing branch as well as a small hollow gourd laced with a raw-hide strap that had a “Drink Me” label on it, Fletcher Munsin inched his way to the back of the room and up a small flight of stairs, coming to stand still in front of a massive dully-glinting metal door with a retractable top and hefty chain-link threads on either side. On the reinforced wall to the right of the door was a small slightly glowing blue circle in the center of a rectangular pad. Fletcher Munsin reached for the panel and felt around, eventually coming to place one of his fingers directly over the center of the darkly-gleaming blue circle. As he did so, his chest jumped at the sound of a high echoey pop from the ceiling above where he stood, and as he moved his head upward, so went the door, clanking loudly along a treaded frame as it rose upward. The man stepped back, shielding his eyes with his arm at the piercing gleam that shot in through the door from without, the light reacting fiercely with the peculiar twig of magic Wood that lay pocketed within his robes. The light brought a pleasant, dry warmth into the bunker, and Fletcher Munsin, with his arm still over his eyes, eagerly stepped lightly out the door into the rays of a Central Sun, Amrita’s Sun: Alcyone of the Pleides, High Radiant Essence of Solaria and Her Solar Logos.
Fletcher Munsin had made the correct decision to explore this realm first. He convinced himself as much right away if but only because of how amazingly fresh, cool, and clear the air tasted to him. How clean and crisp, he marveled. The intense gleam of the Central Sun he had seen pour into the Stargate Bunker as he stood inside it had totally diminished now that he was outside in it, and his new vision saw a vibrant foreign wilderness on a clear day, with an unbothersome high visibility. He seemed to be getting High off the air, which started to swirl with hues of assorted rainbow shades at varying points of space he saw spread out in the immediate vicinity. The manifest oxymoron himself, this newborn-man, was beholding his first breathtaking panorama of pure “garden-family” ecstasy. He saw nature working perfectly and acquired a perspective of appreciation for the beauty of that nature as he viewed strong diverse signs of it everywhere before him.
The foreground and background both were splattered with every shade of green that existed in the light spectrum, and more, glittering with tinsel-flashes of Sunlight reflection off the epic trees everywhere, whose layers of green blanketed the high tops of the forest canopy in a lush wash of comfort and cool breezes. Monster tree stumps ten-feet wide ripped out of the Earth everywhere Fletcher Munsin could see, and extended upward hundreds of feet. Many different kinds of small animals were hobbling and fluttering and twinkling all around him, and he could feel each one’s energy signatures as different songs being sung to the trees and animals all around them.
He kept on an aimless amble, sure to tie strips of his robes to branches with the pocketknife, and soon came upon a couple of creatures who started singing their songs to him. They appeared to him at first to be two small grazing white ponies, but realized as he got nearer that they were something more. He reached out telepathically, as is his nature, and felt traces of true love serum in the air, having not a clue as to what love serum was or the destructive forces it held. The little creatures were inquisitive and welcoming, remaining still and calm in relaxed positions, fidgeting periodically to enthusiastically lick their furry tails.
“Greetings,” one of them sung telepathically to the man as he approached the two. Its nose was snow-white like its fur, small and wrinkly as it inquired behind two innocent eyes that were set between a long swirly horn projecting from its forehead. “May I ask? What are you?”
Fletcher Munsin felt layers of kind warmth exude off these two unicorns he was engaging, also feeling euphoric as he did so. “I don’t precisely know yet; I’m still trying to figure that out. I was just born, you see?”
“Oh, so you’re a creature of magic as well, are you? You are welcome here around us. We sense no demonic nature in your aura.”
Even though Fletcher Munsin instinctively felt he wasn’t evil, it was reassuring to hear the little unicorn telepathically project that impression to him. “Thank You,” he replied with a nod. “You see, I’m searching for something. Would either of you two happen to know the whereabouts of this Fountain of Youth I’ve heard about? Is it real?”
The two cute little grazing unicorns turned to each other and laughed. “Yah, it’s real,” one of them said, “but dangerous. Shadow beings from dark realms occasionally break our natural barriers here and steal vials of the sacred waters of Breña. But us, we purely organic faerie creatures of this realm don’t need rejuvenation from Breña; we, having been returned to Agartha and sealed off from the surface word, have regained a near-immortality status. Yet we remain trapped here.”
“Trapped here?” Fletcher Munsin was confused.
“Yes,” the unicorn replied telepathically. “Many of us from this Land Know about how magnificent the Surface-Earth is, and everything it has to offer. We have seen it with our very eyes Once before, if but briefly. I and my friends, we are adventurers seeking to return to and travel across the Land Above.”
Intrigued, the man mentioned nothing of his order specifically not to do just that, and said “Oh, really? And what does this Surface-Earth have to offer?”
“It has to offer us stewardship, and a chance to redeem ourselves through conscientious karma-cleaning. The world down here may appear stupendous, and in many ways it is, but it also harbors much boredom to us. Besides, we hear that when unicorns lived across Surface-Earth, they had wings and were able to fly. That is what intrigues us the most, for we believe we have a lost heritage to investigate.”
Having only just started to See the diversity sheerly of all the different animals around him here and now, and how they coexisted harmoniously in an Ecosystem throughout the vastness of Land that was sure to extend wide and far, Fletcher Munsin had a difficult time understanding how different worlds could have their own types of appeal and high fascination, having just, himself, started to become fascinated with this One world. Despite the warning from his alleged creator, Surface-Earth was another place other than the worlds in Sirius that Fletcher Munsin wanted to explore, and now he was even more excited about being alive, although he would have to consider everything he did very carefully, of course.
The two glanced at him inquiringly as the man said “Wouldn’t a winged Unicorn be a Pegasus?”
The unicorn was quick to reply. “No— that’s a different species; Pegasi don’t necessarily have horns.”
“Really?” Now the man was engaged. “So, the horn-element of your makeup is very species-driven, is it?”
“Yes, driven by the horn itself.”
Fletcher Munsin, not yet wise enough to chuckle at this statement, was curious about his new companions’ horns very much in fact, and what they could do, but decided to answer their original question before things got out of hand. “Well, I’m from Sirius. But I’ve never been there.”
The two unicorns again turned to each other before one asked, “How can you be from a place you’ve never been to?”
“My thoughts exactly! I was hoping to travel there, but I wanted to explore this land first— it feels so wonderful just to walk around and breathe the air in here. So, you’re able to direct me to this rejuvenating so-called Breña?”
The Unicorns scoffed. “Oh, you seek vitality from the sacred waters, do you, child?”
“I… I’m not sure,” stated Fletcher Munsin. Having just been born, he hadn’t yet thought about death. Or that death was even possible. He wasn’t sure if he would need extra stores of vitality to stay alive.
“We tell you again, friend, it’s dangerous to go there…” The unicorn beside the one giving this warning remained silent and seemed less friendly all of a sudden, and suspicious of Fletcher Munsin. The one speaking went on. “But, if you feel you must go there, cross this here field and walk toward those gigantic boulders in the distance.” The unicorn pointed the direction with its twirly, spiky horn. The Sky had only a few fair-weather clouds in it and was mostly clear, the field of tall-grasses the creature was referring to mostly shady from the thick canopy above and forest walls around it. “Behind them,” it went on, “are several trailheads marked each with a colored sign. Choose the Red one and head down that trail for about two miles. Examine the edges of the trail closely as you go, child, and you will come to a small glyph-littered stone sculpture of a Phoenix that you can communicate with. Become One with the Stone and it will lead you to the Pond from there.”
“Thanks so much!” exclaimed Fletcher Munsin, and reached down to pet the two animals. He bid them adieu and began heading toward the big boulders yonder, a high strut in his step. He came, by and by, to many labeled paths behind them, chose the Red One, and started down it, trusting in what the two flightless unicorns —or were they de-winged Pegasi?— had told him.
Fletcher Munsin continued down the wide dirt-road path with bells on, soon noticing it start to reactively glitter with shimmering pixie dust at intermittent intervals. Glints of yellowy twinkles started to conjoin along his way, hovering above a path that seemed to have been perfectly paved on its own, the forest floor in pristine condition even though he continued to see different floor-bound animals involved in their own activities everywhere, scurrying this way and scuttling that, their tracks magically erasing behind them. There were many airborn creatures as well. A group of tiny sparkling fairies led by two large birds, one red, one yellow, was approaching him now. He felt neutral energy from them and simply smiled as they passed along on their way.
The man, most excited now, and ever in a euphoric state of mind, continued rambling along his peaceful way down the forest trail with no trouble. Not that he was expecting any trouble, for Fletcher Munsin had yet to get into it. He didn’t yet know trouble. He continued cutting small strips of fabric from his robes and tying them tightly around branches of the trees he passed, picking his way for hours along the same path, having no idea how long two miles was, eagerly seeking out the stone sculpture that was said to be somewhere to the side of the trail.
When he eventually spied it out, he paused momentarily to absorb the vitalizing, message-giving energy from the stone totem, which was magnificent and informative. He was told to continue due East for about two miles through the unmarked thick of wild territory. He did so without any difficulty, still tying bits of his robes around the scenery he passed, and eventually spotted the clearing he was searching for.
As he got closer he could hear that someone was moving in the water. He paused with excitement behind the silver trunk of a red-leafed tree, staying a safe distance away, looking on.
What he saw there and then will change his life forever. And he would never know that his first sights of a human woman were of the most beautiful woman that ever existed. Her skin was a glowing pitch-black, her limbs ever so slender. She had lively tribal tattoos of many colors all over her body that glowed soft hues of dark bioluminescence, and two huge large stones inside the lobes of each ear. Even while mostly submerged in the mystical pond, which was slowly giving off subtle glints of blue shimmers, Fletcher Munsin could tell that this woman was very tall, as well. Much taller than he was. She was wearing a tiara that looked like a snake, its head reaching out from the woman’s forehead in earnest, and she was bathing herself softly, her arms hugging herself in what appeared to the man to be an unnecessary vain exhibition of her rock-hard body. But, how could that be? he wondered. What could she possibly be getting from it in return? was the question that came to his mind. There’s No One there to suck on this royal eye-candy she’s laying out, no one there to Observe and Receive the sex appeal she’s exuding.
Unless of course there was, and she was aware that someone was watching her.
As soon as Fletcher Munsin had that thought, Magdalena suddenly lifted her head in his direction and he hid as best he could behind the tree he was leaning against, experiencing his first dose of anxiety as he kept quiet, adrenaline starting to secrete inside him, sweat starting to break out on his forehead. Turning his head down on himself as he crouched in hiding, he noticed for the first time what his erection looked like, and he couldn’t understand.
He looked back at the Pond a few seconds later and she was gone. -MIKE EYE
DARK ESOTERIKA 