THE SACRED SEDUCTION OF THE LAST GODHED’S SHADOW, PART II.

His endocrine system was fully stimulated now as the energies of their activation now pulsed interdimensionally over, around, and through the Biodome of Andromeda. This most spiritual prana surge, in turn, synchronized itself with the Earth way over in the Milky Way. It was laying the foundation for a new, whole, and perfectly harmonious psychelectromagnetic grid network that would flux eternally via macro-quantum entanglement and interact symbiotically with the human psyches present on Earth in bodies to create the Noosphere for the New Age, the prophetic, timeless ‘mind envelope’ of a Higher Collective Unconscious.

Source: #12. THE SACRED SEDUCTION OF THE LAST GODHED’S SHADOW, PART II. FROM THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION BY MIKE EYE

ABOUT MY EPIK WORLD

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Thank You For Returning To Dark Esoterika, Where We Observe Psi Phenomena & Sacred Visions Through The Lens Of Geomancy & Dreams.

 

 

Dear Readers & Bloggers, Eye hope you are all well or are at least able to somewhat steady the Mind at certain intervals during these grim yet joyous Times on Urth, at the cusp. If You’re currently bein’ Blown away by the books & articles you’re Readin’ lately, that is a huge plus, and I am truly glad you’ve found some new, albeit, perhaps temporary, Sources of Inspiration.

Well, I am so happy to See so many curious people starting to latch on to the excitement and significance of my recently released esoteric debut novel, The Aqueous Transmission! Recently, I was asked a bunch of interesting questions about the mechanics and epic inner workings of “my world” that I write about in this dark tale, the answers of which will soon be published on another great WordPress blog about Epik Worlds in Spec Lit. But, for now, I’m gonna release them here on my blog! Lucky You! Also, Look for my next Pro Book Review coming this month in March!

  -MIKE EYE ⊙

 

 

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1. Tell us about your novel. (This could be your blurb.)

IN A DYING WORLD NOT UNLIKE OUR OWN, two elemental forces are controlling two avatar demigods who seek to perpetuate the planet’s existence by reshaping a new world in a certain way after it has finally fallen to a post-apocalyptic state. On the One side we have Mother Magdalena, a strong and fierce pregnant Hankerhawk woman of the Earthen Bry Dellows who will be faced with the challenge of reviving humanity in a changed, desolate, dark world with no living creature in sight. On the other side we have Al Rodnam, a wise, old Sirian guru mystic who has much love for the dying world of Earth and is the last of his kind, the Godheds, who had helped Mother Magdalena restart civilization One age prior. Both personas will cross paths and have to help each other meet the commands of their elemental forces.

Meanwhile, throughout it all, Magdalena is continuously haunted by the shade of a mysterious man she somehow feels fiercely attracted to and also reminds her of someone important she had met Once, someone she had Once loved… Upon giving birth to her child, Magdalena feels compelled to search for this man, wherever his real person may be, fully believing the man to not only still be alive, but to in fact be the Last Godhed of whom she had been searching for for a long, long time. However, we come to find that the shade of this familiar man, although not in fact the Last Godhed, is indeed the Last Godhed’s fully manifest Shadow Identity toying with the Mother. Once the prerequisites for Magdalena and her High sisters are met, Al Rodnam must use his High powers to help beckon the Mother to his Shadow. But first, there must be a divine transformation through a magical pond located at a secret, special spot upon the ruins of the destroyed Earth, a spot that’ll help shift the gears of the story up a couple of notches in an extremely powerful and enchanting way, but not consciously quite exactly the way in which either avatar was ever expecting…

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2.  What makes your world special or different?

The thing about my world that makes it so interesting yet also unique is that it is instantly directly relatable to the reader because “my world,” or at least the Setting for a majority of my story, is Planet Earth. But… it’s an existential replication of our home planet in comparison to the way ours is now during our [the readers’] actual current waking life, and the people living upon her in the story do so in a way quite a bit differently than we do here in modern-day life, despite them nevertheless still being some variety of human-hybrid homosapien, as we ourselves are.

You see, my version of the Planet Earth in my novel (which is in its own time continuum) has only about 30% Ocean in comparison to the some 70% or more Ocean as are currently the conditions of our home planet now-a-days. As such, and in intimate coordinated correspondence, the body liquid levels of most of the demented humans in my story are also intrinsically related to the water levels of their Earth’s body; i.e. the physical makeup of their bodies, as well as their land, is quite drastically different to ours in comparison. The bodies of the people who make up this vast majority of these few, small indigenous tribes spread out across this grim apocalyptic version of Earth we now carefully analyze, the ones known as Loombugs, are disgracefully deformed, grizzly, and hoggish. The very small elite sects of their people who control them, however, the ones who call themselves Hankerhawks, have exclusively been allowed access to the clandestine domain of Amrita’s Inner Earth Underworld and have been additionally genetically-enhanced with far-sustaining power and forms bestowed to them from their Higher, Godly counterparts of extradimensional origin who have been in somewhat constant contact.

There are very few tribes spread out across the globe living in rather small, horribly filthy, deranged communities that can best be described as “urbanized,” destroyed, and neglected thick jungle-like environments, but with mostly no other animals, containing mostly sickly foliage, and rather remarkably contained in all. Other than these small thickly-settled villages, there was, spread out wide and far across the One and only landmass of this planet, nothing but super hot barren and ashy deserts of sprawling lonely emptiness. Each tribe’s village existing on the planet is naturally, and quite consequently, situated along or near its very small Ocean. These tribes have little to no contact with one another. On the edge of each dark tribal community’s dirty and deformed village is always located its appended most cherished pig pen filled with shit-loads (literally) of a particular special strain of pig engineered by Al Rodnam (more on him, these “Blood-Pigs” I’m describing here, and the Loombugs later, in Character Profiles, Terms, World Faction Alignments, and Tribal Heritage).

 

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Oh, and by the way, every member of every tribe on the planet of these Hankerhawks and Loombugs is female. That’s right, no males; they’re not allowed. (For more on how the tribes originated to begin with, ask me about The Founding of Bry Dellows.) Usually, I got it worked out so that, upon their fucked-up version of Planet Earth, at any point along the timeline of my multiverse, there would almost always be, among populations of the human-hybrid beings alive at any moment, roughly 85% Loombugs, 10% Hankerhawks, 4% Gilded Grunts, and 1% Godhed (for more on these sects, ask me about World Faction Alignments and Tribal Heritage).

The Hankerhawks and the Loombugs together make up roughly 95% of the entire world’s human population among the few tribes of sisters usually alive at any time. The other roughly 5% of male human-hybrid creatures existed separately for the most part from the women, yet still strangely remained attached in certain ways to their respective tribe of descent by way of Space-Grain trading agreements. (Ask me more about Space-Grain, what it is, and why it’s important to the story.) There really are very, very few other creatures of any kind existing anywhere ON the surface of my world, but that’s certainly not the case IN-side my world (see Amrita’s Inner Earth Underworld), and I must add that there are also other (important) places that are part of the Setting of this novel that exist on and in other planets, craft, and various outer-space outposts, that are situated in other galaxies, and in some cases, also different timelines (or no timeline at all).

 

 

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3.  How does your main character fit into this world?

Mother Magdalena is the Head Hankerhawk of Bry Dellows, the largest of the tribal villages. Bry Dellows was the first settlement of the Earth in my world and was founded by Magdalena herself, along with Al Rodnam, a very old mystic from the Sirius Trinary Star System, a man who also happens to be the Last Godhed on “Fucked-Earth.” (Throughout the book, I refer to the “Earth” as “Fucked” because, despite the obvious implication, the very act to have caused the nuclear explosion that obliterates the entire planet time and time again was the impact of its mystically-charged Moon which had Cum suddenly shooting out of its orbit straight down into its Mother Earth (rendering her “fucked”) the very moment the Spirit of the Last Godhed, Al Rodnam, reentered its Remote Viewing of a sacred Dream Mother Magdalena had been prophesized to have been having during this time, while she slept in her tiny bedchambers of her mini silvery auto-piloting space-pod beside the corpse of the recently deceased Fletcher Munsin, with whom she had just performed the Conception of Mandorla with at the Andromeda Biodome just prior. The Mother did this because she wrongfully assumes Fletcher Munsin to be the Last Godhed, Al Rodnam, of whom she was divinely charged to sacredly seduce. Fletcher Munsin is in fact, however, the Last Godhed’s Shadow*.)

 

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At the beginning of the story, in Episode I. Magdalena crash-lands on her recently nuked, now Fucked-Earth. She’s the only living being now alive on the whole planet, everything else having been destroyed. But she’s pregnant…. Fortunately, Magdalena manages to salvage and acquire a few cool things that she’s really gonna need!! She has with her her lovable life-long pet, Amrita (who represents a living embodiment of One of the Life-forces** itself, made manifest AS the Divine vehicle it would otherwise only pump through, existing as something more and greater than just the powerful sacred energy flowing through it, and is portrayed throughout the novel taking shape inside the inner circuitry of a cat-like android who down the line has a Metamorphosis into a High mystikal Serpent, with extra-special abilities, including divine access to Amrita’s Inner Earth Underworld). Luckily, she also manages to snag the idolized archaic Golden Dress and Azure Jasper Stone Amulet of Solaria, both of which are intimately bestowed unto her by the awesome force of Solaria.

Mother Magdalena eventually finds her way to the sacred Pond of the Aqueous Transmission (which is eternally located — though is mostly closed — at the exact same coordinates known and felt by Al Rodnam, the Last Godhed, to be none other than the Earth’s sucking Grail Point/Vajina that periodically gets activated) by following the arcane geomantic tug she begins to feel on her magical amulet; there gives birth to her child; (see The Liberation of Mandorla) and Receives the Spell of Solaria from Al Rodnam as the sage’s Spirit then proceeds to join the Body of Mandorla, the Mother coming to quantumly combine with the Last Godhed Essence now amplified by instantaneous Kundalini Activation (for more on the Mandorla/Al Rodnam Entity Bi-location flux phenomenon and Komplex, ask me about The Aqueous Transmission Event).

Al Rodnam guides Magdalena and her pet Amrita to the Hollow. This was the magical, sacred place of where Bry Dellows was supposed to be founded. Without Magdalena being conscious of the fact, some time within the first couple of weeks of arriving, Al Rodnam puts Magdalena under another hypnotic spell (see The Spell of Lachrylon) and uses the power of Amrita, the Mother’s pet robot-cat-turned-snake, to access the Inner Earth Underworld, the resulting “key” to the Stargate that was hidden somewhere in the Hollows of Bry Dellows being given to the sly guru when the snake was placed around a temporarily unconscious Magdalena’s Head, the specific placement of tools coming to commence the vortex sucking of the Stargate, thus providing the Last Godhed with secret access to a place he naturally wasn’t supposed to be. From within Amrita’s Inner Earth Underworld, Al Rodnam knows he can access the Immortal Earth’s South Pole Homeland, a lush, thriving tropical jungle location curiously located at the South Pole of the original Divine Blueprint of Mother Earth, preserved and living in perfect harmony outside from any time continuum. Just as special and nice, Amrita’s Underworld is the existential Garden of Eden, and as such, is provided with a most mystical, totally rejuvenating pond that functions as the Fountain of Youth for the Hankerhawks in my story. The Stargate to the Immortal Earth’s South Pole Homeland is located at the bottom of this magical rejuvenating pond. Once there, Al Rodnam artificially inseminates Magdalena, still under the mystic’s hypnotic trance, with his sakred sperm he had been incubating inside a jar placed within a Sirian Space Krystal (ask me more about this) placed inside his favorite tree that was beside a proverbially  gently-flowing stream. The trio return to Bry Dellows via the Inner Earth Underworld, Magdalena never coming to find out what was done to her. She thereby begins the most arduous task of reviving humanity, beginning with successfully mating with her newborn child — who was destined to be male — once he began puberty, and going from there.

 

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Eventually the idea (as was demanded by Solaria, on most High) was for Mother Magdalena to procreate as much as she could for a few generations and make the females Loombugs, teaching them all about Bloodpig Feeding and Sakrifice Rituals along with despicable applications of precisely placed Runes. The Loombugs would always by nature and for all intents and purposes be as hideous as could be and gravely mentally retarded. Very rarely though, this would not be the case, as a few particularly beautiful and high-functioning sisters would occasionally birth into the tribes, their chemical makeup (see Genetic Traits) designating these few special sisters as Chosen Ones that would go on to train to become Hankerhawks by engaging in various geomantik customs of celestial salutations among other rites. They would also be allowed into Amrita’s Inner Earth Underworld, their bodies being biologically compatible with magnetic repulsion zones. As for the males, Mother Magdalena is inclined to chop off their penises and testicles at birth and enslave them for Harvest of Space-Grain, which was absolutely essential in feeding the Bry Dellows Bloodpigs (ask me why!). These “Gilded Grunts” would eventually retrieve Space-Grain from the Andromeda Biodome (which was only able to be grown there) and continuously bring it through an artificially forged wormhole portal to the pig-pens of all the Hankerhawk tribes to feed all the Bloodpigs, which was the only thing they would and could eat! (Ask me why it is essential for Bloodpigs to exist in my world.) Once enough Gilded Grunts were born and instructed of their tasks, any males that were born into the tribes thereafter were ritualistically slaughtered and/or drowned in the extra-salty Ocean. Eventually, males stopped being born into the tribes altogether.

From the Immortal Earth’s South Pole Homeland, Al Rodnam also retrieves some lush living branches of the tree his mystical jar o’ sperm was hidden inside (none such thing could be found upon a recently post-apocalyptic Fucked-Earth). Back upon Bry Dellows, the old mystic would spend months whittling away at them, inscribing various Rune engravings onto the side of what would turn out to be Four Sticks he eventually mystically fashions into the Staff of Lachrylon. Which is an apropos lead into your next question…

*Many terms and concepts I use in this wild story are influenced from Jungian, and in some cases, Freudian Psychology. Study of various modern-day okkult koncepts such as Keylontic or Kosmic Science in tandem with the modern-day cutting-edge discoveries in quantum mechanics have also greatly influenced this story. Ideas have also been taken from my studies of human applications of Psi Phenomena, mysticism and shamanism, dreams and sleep disorders, various myths and religions, and my own creative imagination among other things! -MIKE

 

**By Life-forces here, I mean specifically the super-powerful, most nurturing applicable divine forces of KI or PRANA.

 

 

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4.  Is there a system of magic? If so, please tell us about it.  Or tell us about the technology of your world.

  • Staff of LachrylonReacts specifically to the geological coordinates of Fucked-Earth where the Pond of the Aqueous Transmission frequently spawns (Mandorla/Al Rodnam Phenomenon & Komplex).
  • Al Rodnam’s plasma-preserved Mystikal Sperm & its Application Into the Mother.
  • Golden Dress of Solaria worn in my tale by tribal demi-goddess Mother Magdalena — Reacts to the Octahedral Iron Crystal Core at the center of the Earth.
  • Azure Jasper Stone Amulet of Solaria also worn in my tale by tribal demi-goddess Mother Magdalena. — Reacts specifically to the geological coordinates of Fucked-Earth where the Pond of the Aqueous Transmission frequently spawns (Mandorla/Al Rodnam Phenomenon & Komplex).
  • Korrupted Runosophy practiced with Stone Runes (instead of Wood Runes) in Bry Dellows and in all the tribes of the deformed, devolved tribal women, none of which kept in contact, but were all originated from Bry Dellows. In daily Ritual, the specific Rune symbols used by The Hankerhawks and Loombugs, their placement, and whether they had been carved on Wood or Stone would each determine completely different, yet very powerful results in their immediate day-to-day lifetimes. These powerful praktices used here with Stone would invoke dangerous spirits of false protection for the all-female tribes upon an Earth planet with its given orientation as it is in this story, given to them by Solaria. But practiced another way originally showed to the Mother by Al Rodnam during the Founding of Bry Dellows, channeling Lachrylonic Pulses with Wood Runes instead, the tribes would be alternatively guided by the power of Lachrylon instead of Solaria. This was never done in Bry Dellows, however, the Mother determined to follow the commands of Solaria (for more on the elemental forces of Lachrylon and Solaria, ask me!).
  • — The Last Godhead Al Rodnam is a mystik, and thus practices all of the customs of the tribal shaman (powerful applications of Geomancy/Earth Magick and Astral Projection & Travel). A shape-shifter, the Last Godhed on Fucked-Earth can also morph at will into an over-sized blue and blubbery dolphin.

 

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5.  What are the people who inhabit your world like? Are they based on real-world cultures? What systems of government are in place?

 

Tantrik Sex, at first, among Hankerhawks of Bry Dellows, with the first Grunts before they are Gilded (to initiate and spawn gender population control).

— Indoctrination into a flawed, mystically corrupted and misguided practice of Runosophy with Stone Runes among all sister Loombugs by their Hankerhawk elders.

Auto-suggestion and Brainwash to the Loombugs and Gilded Grunts by the Hankerhawks.

— Also, Intimidation and Lies from them.

— Loombugs to perform Bloodpig Sakrifice Rituals during certain Phases of the Moon (you can ask me more about this ever-so-curious, deranged topic if you so dare! Hah!).

 

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6.  Are there any magical creatures? If so, please tell us about them. What about non-human characters: i.e., robots, sentient animals, androids, AI, alien races, etc?

Great question! Each creature in my tale is quite magical in their own way as they relate to my world and each other. It’s actually somewhat complicated but I’ve found a way to show simply the magical correlations of my characters and groups with each other and their world:

 

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*Metatron’s Cube: We know Metatron’s Cube as the 3rd & 4th dimensional star tetrahedron Merkaba starlight vehikle consisting of an encased inner space able to be fit virtually any and/or every possible 3rd dimensional polygonal shape having compatible 4th dimensional electronic tendencies, and hold its form intact through particle conversion. In The Aqueous Transmission, Mother Magdalena comes to conjoin with 12 of her fellow High sister Hankerhawks to form a Metatronic Kube hyperspace vehicle suitable for intergalactic and interstellar travel. This orb-cube conjunction also has an alternative guise: a small silvery egg-like space-pod.

 

**Noble Nammu of Europa: Cute lil’ Nammu is a miniature dolphin with the purest of Heart hailing from one of Jupiter’s Moons, Europa, (yes, my wacky multiverse includes a Milky Way galaxy somewhat similar to ours) and is the messenger in this story, to warn Al Rodnam that 13 of the Bry Dellows Hankerhawks including Mother Magdalena are about to have the momentous Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation (ask me). The Last Godhed can See most things (his Spirit is a seasoned 8th dimensional avatar consisting of 24 activated strands of DNA) but while in his Immortal Earth’s South Pole Homeland, where he must sometimes remain, he is alas consequently unable to be Aware of the most-prominent Bry Dellows Hankerhawks coming to form the Metatron’s Cube once they were able to, because Metatronic forces use an energy undetectable to realms outside of any time continuum. The Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation is the trigger that brings the Mother and her 12 closest to the waiting Fletcher Munsin, Shadow of the Last Godhed, prophetically to be henceforth snatched up for the Sacred Seduction.

 

 

7.  Is there anything special, precious, or unique about your world’s geography or its place in the universe?

Yes! This is discussed in detail in #2.

8.  What are the two most interesting facts or features of your world?

You tell me!! 😉

9. How does the landscape or geography of your world affect the plot or theme of the story?

The geography as well as the civilizations of my world (or the Setting, rather, for the duration of a great deal of my story, and the concept for an important aspect of my world) have immense, extraordinary, direct affiliation with the very fundamental allegorical, archetypal, and arcane-inspired constructs within its essence, continuously supplying my world with power to keep it spinning while at the same time receiving power itself just by Being what, and also specifically WHERE, it is. This is discussed in detail in #2 & #6.

10.  Is there a religious system in place?  If so, please describe the basic tenants of its tenants and how they impact the characters or story.

Please See #5.

11.  What is one last thing you would like readers to know all about your world?

That it’s real.

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The Aqueous Transmission by Mike Eye (Book Review #97) – Review Tales – A Personal & Sincere Review On Books Read

 

Here is my first Book Review, written on February 10th, 2017! New Review to Cum in March! 😃

 

http://jeyranmain.com/2017/02/the-aqueous-transmission-by-mike-eye/

Goodreads | Mike Eye (Author of The Aqueous Transmission)

FRIENDS OF MINE, PLEASE FOLLOW ME ON GOODREADS! I AM A GOODREADS NOOB AND NEED HELP GETTING STARTED, IF YOU LOVELY PEOPLE DON’T MIND. I WOULD GREATLY APPRECIATE IT! THANK YOU. -MIKE EYE

DARK ESOTERIKA

Mike Eye is now on Goodreads! Please follow me, I am a Goodreads noob and need help getting started, if you lovely people don’t mind. I would greatly appreciate it! Thank you. -MIKE EYE

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16234480.Mike_Eye

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☆ 35. Bugs To Loom In The Pens Of The Bloodpigs | Part Two.

 

 

[Episode VIII. / Chapter 35]


OVER THE YEARS, MOTHER MAGDALENA HAD CONSISTENTLY FOUND herself down and back again within the Inner Earth Sanctum originally shown to her by her most beloved pet, Amrita, whom she now got along with as well as she had during the strange, aggravating days of Rita as a robot. Eventually, her sister Hawks came to join her in her secret, special visits. Magdalena needed the presence of Amrita in order to enter the secret Stargate at the edge of Bry Dellows, and it greatly widened her Ajna Chakra — which by this point ‘around the circle’ perpetually glowed vigorously up and between the brows of the Mother, emanating outward in pulses of supersonic multidimensional audible waves; Magdalena usually kept Snake-Rita coiled around her Head like some serpent crown, which was very much okay with Amrita. The serpent crown, along with the lush, throbbing shining of her multihued Ajna, together with the glaring glittering of her great golden garment, gave the Mother an aura that lent to her a look and overall disposition of the Highest, most artful, metaphysical and biological articulation. Notions of raw sex stained the sight of any observer to gaze upon her countenance now, her dark, hard body subtley unleashing fierce undercurrents of potent, brain-numbing energies that naturally hard-wired the brain of any observer to become locked-in and hard-wired to Imagine Intense filthy, sexual thoughts about the Mother Magdalena. Her almighty smutty lure had eventually begun to frighten most of her sisters despite their familiarity with her.

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The Golden Magdalena would make her routine visit to the luxuriant Inner Earth Sanctum with her silver Hawk sisters exactly every twenty-eight days for a regular recharge and Rebirth of her Spirit, at always the very instance whereupon she would perpetually perceive her prodigious power perishing. These relieving rejuvenations were had also by the other Hankerhawks during these times. And they would partake in the activity together, in Silence. The Mother would Ritually revitalize her mighty golden dress at this splendid pond that she had Once taken sips of Water from during the very first time Amrita had taken her to the Sanctum — a clandestine Queendom, she came to realize, that was a domain exclusively held by that of Amrita, according to Al Rodnam.

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This supreme revitalization would keep the Mother Magdalena extremely powerful, and as High in Spirit as her social rank of the Bry Dellows Hankerhawks. It would also keep the woman youthful and gorgeous as ever she was. This was how she would continue to survive.

There was never a single instance Lina didn’t thoroughly enjoy coming to the Inner Earth Underworld, and she absolutely loved all that her serpent pet’s spectacular world had to offer her. It would be that One precise time per Fucked-Earth month, during her so-cherished glorious purification through the emotive pond, that she would also always mindfully let pour her magical menstrual medicine. She wanted to give something back.

Not because she felt inclined to, but because she kidded herself that she actually wanted to, and it felt amazing to her.

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This time of month from within the Immortal Inner Earth as well as from within its ever-be-doomed Fucked-Earth counterpart, was the very time of month that also naturally would have found the Moon fixed Full along its Phase, had it not been already wholly bursting out with brightness due to the Liberation of Mandorla, flowing and bloody to its utmost, exactly matching the Mother’s monthly cycles.

She really didn’t want to admit it to herself, but time and again, Lina would catch slight glimpses of the gory, detached Triple-Eyed Head of Fletcher Munsin glaring back at her from within the reviving pond in exactly the very position she figured her own head should be reflecting.

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During the first few times she saw it, she foolishly shook it off, attempting to convince herself it was ‘all in her head.’ But gradually during her visits to the Inner Earth, she eventually began seeing the vision more often, and clearer, shimmering back at her for longer than just quick instances out of the corner of her Eye.

Eventually, it spoke to her.

“You piece of shit,” it had muttered faintly ‘out of the blue’ in gurgly spurts, blood and spit shooting out of his mouth and severed neck in earnest with the effort. “You’re in –choke— serious danger, Mother. You — your sisters — everyone on the planet –choke— is in serious, –choke— critical –choke— danger. Figured you might wanna know.”

The aquatic apparition remained cool and composed despite the ridiculous fragmented hackles he so sputtered, and the impossibility of what was actually now happening somehow occurring anyway.

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A great lump of glossy innards of the familiar deathly talking head reflection slowly oozed out the bottom of its severed neck in super-thick burgundy entrails as it continued to speak with a curious and exceedingly deep, raspy voice, ignoring completely his observed apparent discomfort. “Your days –choke— are numbered, you know –choke.”

Lina could not be certain she was simply Hallucinating. She grew angry.

A pause.

“There is One way you can save yourself,” the gory apparition abruptly went on, –cough, cough, cough— “as well as –choke— twelve of your Highest Sister-Hawk-Fuckers… it’s –cough, cough, cough— the only way for the continuing survival of anything, my gorgeous.”

The reflecting head cleared its throat terribly loudly, but carefree. Somehow it could still get its vocal chords working so that it could be heard and mostly understood. Its three Eyes were beaming horrifically in illuminated elucidation as a super-smug grin forged itself forth from the familiar bloodstained face in the enchanted Inner-Earth pond.

Lina shivered as notions of a loathing laced with loads of arousal rose to the surface in her.

And then she wondered why the Hell it was that the Shade of Fletcher Munsin was giving her advice that would save her life, and the lives of Twelve of her Highest sisters. Something wasn’t right, she thought; things were just not adding up.

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“You will receive an Omen,” the Shade went on, convulsing slightly. “When the -choke- Blood-red Full Moon of Mandorla fully vanishes, -choke- it will be the signal -choke- to quickly gather together with your Twelve High Sisters and -choke- proceed to evacuate to Andromeda at the Biodome at the edge of the galaxy –choke, choke- at light-speed to initiate a Re-genesis of Human Civilization –cough, cough— without delay! This is your only chance. –cough— Everything on Earth will be destroyed.” The throat of the reflecting head of Fletcher Munsin gagged on itself manically, overenthusiastically and as loud as could be, and a fair amount of filthy, glazed drool and blood was Spilt all down his Watery chin.

“Good luck, bitch,” it managed effortlessly in the face of having a look of excruciating torment.

Magdalena felt her shoulder blades and the sides of her neck instantly ice-over, and she released a bold, gratifying involuntary shiver of her entire upper body.

The Mother remained fixed in a daze for a moment, lost deeply inside of herself…

The Mother shook herself clear of her deeply emotionally-wrought reverie. She shuddered. She spat a juicy wad of her bubbly saliva to the side and growled loudly. She wasn’t sure exactly how to feel and her emotions were running wild, viciously seeking to undyingly warp her mental stability.

This was all pretty strange, she thought to herself.

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Lina began tossing around the prospects of the apparition’s assumed words in her mind. She didn’t doubt that Mandorla’s Moon of Ruby could and would disappear, she just felt baffled over what she should do when it did. Fletcher Munsin was a spiteful jerk, she knew, but she found that in her cold, Dark Heart, she nevertheless was fiercely attracted to the man for some strange, seemingly unexplainable reason because she wholly believed that she knew for certain that her Fletcher Munsin was indeed the last Godhed that she must hunt down and keep.

She would never know that the last Godhed was in fact Al Rodnam who had helped her found Bry Dellows. And she would never come to find out that Al Rodnam was even in any way associated with Fletcher Munsin.

But surely, deep down inside, Magdalena had to have some clue as to what was really going on.

☆34. BUGS TO LOOM IN THE PENS OF THE BLOOD PIGS | Part One.

 

…from [E  P  I  S  O  D  E    E  I  G  H  T] of The Aqueous Transmission by [MIKE EYE]

[B u g s   t o   L o o m   i n   t h e   P e n s   o f   t h e   B l o o d   P i g s]

 

“As copper is transformed into gold through alchemical practices, likewise, those who have gained Knowledge use Passions as the Key to Liberation.”

— anonymous Tantric text

 

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[chapter THIRTY-FOUR]


[THREE-HUNDRED-THIRTY-THREE YEARS FOLLOWING THE FOUNDING OF BRY DELLOWS. FUCKED-EARTH TIME.]

The foul little lazy rascal knelt lackadaisically upon the dirty, cursed surface of Fucked-Earth on her filthy, disfigured knees as she caressed her pig’s thick, hairy ear that smelt of bio-toxic waste. The young girl — who looked more like a wretched and useless rejected runt of some Damned set of Demon offspring — was deep in the midst of overindulging in her favorite two-and-a-half hours of every two-and-a-half days, a most enjoyable time routinely enjoyed by her as well as by all of her low sisters, all active in the rowdy pig farms of the dark Mother’s feral, rickety village of the shit-stained Bry Dellows.

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Amid the smelly little girl sat several very distinct, similarly-deformed smelly little girls within a fairly large expanse of dusty, twisted farmland, each Wickedly afflicted girl tending most lovingly to her very own ugly, deformed smelly little pig. As usual, all of the sisters were getting so much a rise out of the bonding with their personal pigs that their dispositions seemed to illicit a kind of passive hyperactivity that had them poised to be officially qualified to lustfully milk the wretched creatures from their tainted teats in spite of the impossibility of the feat; there was an odd air of general sexual tension settling in a thick fog over the atmosphere of the pig pens.

Perhaps ironically, the fucked swine receiving all the attention didn’t look all too different from these retarded excuses for girls — the pathetic tribal filler-material known as the Loombugs — who were obsessed with feeding and ‘playing’ with the Bry Dellows Bloodpigs most enthusiastically as had become custom of their bizarre, indigenous tribe.

A thick, heavy stench of brute blood and festering feces lingered about the chaotic piggery emitting a putrid, pungent air within the vicinity that not One girl seemed bothered by. The rank stink wafted through the atmosphere along with loud, incessant Bloodpig oinks that were interspersed with the occasional shrill shriek or elongated, off-key drone of a preoccupied Loombug who had become exceedingly excited with her personal undertaking, momentarily unable to control herself. Bloodpigs who were not presently being tended to by the Loombugs, or had already finished their meals of the hearty Space-Grain, were currently squealing and scurrying mindlessly about the stables, their disproportionate, lumpy and saggy limbs crippling their steps to weird hobbles, rendering them oblivious to their surroundings as they scampered on into and past one another retardedly.

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The hogs had not a notion that they were, at present, each subconsciously, by their present behavior, ultimately seeking to be ordained back into the Spirit Molecule that had initially Summoned them all forth to this most corrupt countenance initially overseen during the Genesis of Bry Dellows by Al Rodnam.

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The Loombug sisters of Bry Dellows perpetually seized every precious moment effortlessly during these times ‘paid’ in the filthy village pens, Ritually immersing themselves with their sisters, although each Individually divulging their own selves with their own pig, of whom each Bug would customarily pick out personally for this most cherished “pig-sty playtime.” During this special time, all of the Loombugs would always consistently carry out very vulgar molestations of the Bloodpigs along with these vital feedings of the special Grains as part of their Ritual; such sick acts of which each Loombug conducted One-on-One with her own personally chosen pig, were overtly overly overzealous, hedonistic activities that required no Intellect whatsoever to execute — mere child’s play, as it were. The Hankerhawks of their tribe never showed them how to do this; the Loombugs had all felt instinctively driven, and very strongly so, to commit such whacky, vulgar behavior all their own, as a ‘side dish’ to the Feeding of the Space-Grain.

So, this was their favorite thing to do. Well, other than become engaged with the potent power expended by Sacra-mental manipulations of their Stone Runes, of course, ‘spending’ most of their days constantly engaged in subliminally manifesting shifty conjurings amid a plane of fundamentally, unconsciously misunderstood esoterica (the Loombugs would never come to know that the ‘potent power’ of the Stone Runes was mere ‘Placebo Effect,’ the Runes’ True magic long lost over the decades as a result of, initially ignorance by Mother Magdalena, and ultimately misinterpretation by all of her sisters).

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As per the Mother, the Loombugs were only permitted to ‘pay’ such gleeful times in the pig-pens under One condition: it was strictly mandatory that the Bloodpig Feedings always be followed by one extra final task of which the girls were all sworn to their pathetic lives to then Ritualistically endeavor upon: after the allotted two-and-a-half hours’ time with the Bloodpigs, the Bugs were then required by the Mother, à la Solaria, to each take their own recently skyfallen personal Bloodpig, of which they had been feeding and doing strange shit to, over to the nearby salty shore for a High dedicatory ceremonial Bloodpig drowning sacrifice. The Loombugs were hardened to this most sacrosanct sacrament on account of compulsory custom (not to mention genetic programming and human-hybrid perceptual multidimensional interferences), and so always underwent the Ritual Addendum without any difficulty, despite the general lack of well-functioning motor skills crippling the always sweaty Loombugs.

Upon arrival to the edge of the sparkling and slowly wavering, salty and bubbly azure shoreline, the Loombugs would customarily begin thoroughly scrubbing their Bloodpigs in the Water, proceed to then hack them the-fuck-up with their super sharp trusty daggers always kept within their loincloths (that were attached to the loincloths with some string) until most of the horrid hog blood was Spilled in the Ocean, then finally hold them Underwater for several moments thereafter while holding Visions of Solaria within their Collective Mind’s Eye for the duration of the ‘under’-taking.

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The Bugs would thereafter customarily each grab as many pieces of pork as they could carry, and fill up their wooden flasks with the extra-salty ocean water before scrambling themselves promptly back to the main dirt paths of central Bry Dellows, as a group, to go cook the hog pieces around an open flame and thoughtlessly eat (storing some of the meat in their loin-cloths for whenever they got Hungry later), thereafter habitually coming to absorb themselves with their Stone Runes and come to mumble mindlessly to One another as well as to any unoccupied Hankerhawk who was momentarily willing to put up with their shit.

Strange fact: the few rations of brutally brackish Water the Bugs gathered from the only ocean on Fucked-Earth was all that the dried-up, deformed bodies of the Bry Dellows Loombugs required. And the only food the Bugs of the tribe would eat would be Bloodpig. And lots of Bloodpig. And more of lots of Bloodpig. They did so many times a day, unceremoniously, and did so defying Mother Nature Herself by amazingly being able to survive normally on far less Water than Earthen organisms living more symbiotically in an ideal Vision of a world with its Land masses far, far prevalent geographically over its ever be-shrunken Seas. This was another reason the Loombugs of Bry Dellows always put so much effort into their routine Feedings of the Bloodpigs. Bloodpig was indeed all that they wanted and ever needed to eat, and it did them well. And yes, there was certainly a great deal of hog-shit that went along with that: most of the village’s grounds were strewn in it. The stench had come to garnish the Mother’s village in a subtle, familiar undertone that richly added to the community’s overall aesthetic.

Interestingly enough, although the Loombugs were constantly filthy from ugly Head to fucked-up toe, they never thought to wash themselves subsequent to the Bloodpig Sacrifices; in fact, they seldom ever washed themselves at all.

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And so, three-hundred-thirty-three elongated years after the Mother, her pet Amrita, and the elusive mystic Al Rodnam had established Bry Dellows under the subtle command of the mighty Lachrylon, the village’s tribe had grown to include roughly 85% Loombugs, 10% Hankerhawks, 4% Gilded Grunts, & 1% Godhed. The Loombugs, with their own scheduled mundane activities assigned by the Mother, were only slightly larger in size than the hideous hogs they would each so come to make their own at High Noon during playtime. The Hawks, always having to be the Ones to order the dumb Bugs around and remind them of this as well as other things — because the Bugs all had trouble focusing their frames of mind with their lines of thought — had no clocks (or any other machines for that matter) and would only know it was Noontime when the Sun was directly overhead, the Sun’s seeming path over the planet’s horizons taking nine [72/8] hours in all, which was one-third of a day, Fucked-Earth time. The Bry Dellows Loombugs typically never gained a developmental functioning capability beyond that of a four-year-old not bred with such Wicked, Balanced, Tantric Intention the likes of which the mighty Solaria had mandated for these doomed Loombugs. In all, the Loombugs pretty much greatly resembled the ever-so-precious, wretched Mandorla, as she had originally been born, beside the mystical pond that was the trippy window of the Aqueous Transmission, except that the Bugs of Bry Dellows physically grew, in average, to be about four-and-a-half feet tall by maturity.

This One Loombug of which we now follow — inconsequentially named Loomy — was a very young girl of four years (Fucked-Earth time), currently coming to most deeply delight in, as did all her sisters — who were all also named “Loomy” — her cherished time with the Bry Dellows Bloodpigs. Yes, each Loombug had the same name, not One of which was ever able to figure out its correct pronunciation. They all looked remarkably similar to One another, were gravely mentally retarded with all Bugs having an identical genetic makeup, and had an extremely limited vocabulary that mostly consisted of a few faintly recognizable sounds and frequently used buckled bodily mannerisms ordinarily exchanged among the Bugs so dysfunctional.

During the Bloodpig Feedings, however, the Bugs would each ‘pay’ time connecting only to their own loud and smelly consort, the girls remaining focused completely on their own individual task at (deformed) hand. They each enjoyed the company of their sisters around them during this special time, but were each unwilling to ‘pay’ the others any mind or communicate with them by any means. Full focus was had on the Bloodpigs.

The ultra-vivid sheen of the brightest midday Solar beams now flooded the dusty, drab atmosphere of Bry Dellows, throbbing its radiance in a strange pulse, and the incessant beat-down from the sky it brought upon Loomy struck her as it struck all the others, and in such a way that made her feel as though she were being pressed in between two giant, red-hot stone plates that were somehow continuously conjoining against one another despite a consistent pressure from either end.

But it was okay; Loomy was used to this weather.

All the Loomys were.

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And now nearby the smutty piggery, we see a few seasoned, expressionless Gilded Grunts trotting on forth sluggishly to dump the precious Space-Grain from their big bushels into the long troughs that ran lengthwise all along the stables. The Grunts would perpetually keep these troughs filled with Space-Grain, which they would bring through a stargate linked to the Andromeda Biodome. Despite the troughs lining the whole of the pig pens, the Bloodpigs therein would not — could not — eat from them; they had all been somehow neurolinguistically manipulated by Al Rodnam during the Genesis of Bry Dellows in such a way that they always had to wait to be fed by the Loombugs, no matter how hungry they became. And they had no patience.

Despite all the commotion surrounding her, Loomy, the dreadful youngster now totally preoccupied with her favorite activity, entirely numb to the intense heat, nevertheless lay mostly motionless in her shadowy corner of one of the stables, very overly excited as she held out her stumpy little wart-wrecked arm with a handful of prized, magical Space-Grain for her darling vile swine who disturbingly bared a most uncanny resemblance to herself.

As she continued to feed her Bloodpig, Loomy the little Loombug maintained an over-exaggerated smile that seemed forced, but wasn’t; her smile was, in effect, an unremitting affliction affecting her countenance that became comfortably settled upon the subject of her interest, stuck in a state of At-One-ment.

Time ceased to exist for Loomy as she lost herself inside the Ritual.

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The left half of young Loomy’s fat lip so moistened with drool would raise higher than the right half each time she flashed her hideous, mostly-toothless smile to her present personal pig — which was quite often throughout playtime, but for no apparent reason. She had several hairy-ass warts and large, distinct birthmarks all over her mostly naked, disproportional black, hairy body. A horrid smile now cracked her face in a flash as she uttered a few exaggerated cooing sounds with her mouth and nose, the latter of which had a great deal of rich snot dribbling out of it. The temperature was a sizzling 111˚ F, and Loomy was not bothered by it in the least as she sat distracted, completely covered in her extra-salty sweat.

There were precisely sixty-nine Blood-pigs present at the Bry Dellows pig-pens at all times; just as soon as One pig was Ritually Sacrificed on the specific day it was meant to be sacrificed — along with all the others — others would replace the spots in the pens of the previous pigs, having flown to Bry Dellows from some mysterious, undisclosed location. By this time along the Bry Dellows tribal ‘devilution,’ the flying pigs had all been genetically trained psychically by Al Rodnam to land at the pens at Bry Dellows on their own, so the old man no longer needed to shoot them down from the sky with his trusty handmade crossbow.

At any rate, the mystic had been long, long since gone from the dusky land of Bry Dellows.

Goodreads | Mike Eye (Author of The Aqueous Transmission)

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Mike Eye is now on Goodreads!

Source: Goodreads | Mike Eye (Author of The Aqueous Transmission)

#10. A Founding of Bry Dellows from the Aqueous Transmission ☆

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☆ And now, three days since their arrival, Magdalena was sitting cross-legged on the soiled, still-steamy surface of Fucked-Earth within the confines of the Hollow, Observing the deep crimson hue of blood-like sentiment settled over the scenery of shadows that danced about in fervor with the flames of the campfire that were flickering fruitfully. The three had mentally and physically territorialized a makeshift base camp area in a specific spot chosen by Al Rodnam, a spot that appeared not unlike the many campsites they had crudely constructed throughout their journey, only larger. The Mother thought of Mandorla now as she Eyed Al Rodnam in the near distance who was performing various yoga stretches beside the hungry flames of the campfire, intentionally entreating upon what they had to offer. She sighed. ⊙

Source: #10. A Founding of Bry Dellows from the Aqueous Transmission ☆

#20. Snake-Rita Reveals to Magdalena her Newfound Access to a One High Telepathic Archaic Wisdom Kollective

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from The Aqueous Transmission by MIKE EYE

Episode VI. / Chapter 30

The woman took pensive heed of the sprawling landscape before her that was so littered with scores of small black scraps of disintegrated wreckage, felt that now-all-too-familiar feeling of abandonment as she strode onward. This sprawling new environment was, however, a great deal easier for her to bare all-in-all, the Mother thought to herself, when weighed against the hindrance of all the huge piles of charred shit chaotically strewn about every which way as the case had been ever since she had received any divine communion with the inimitable, glorious jasper amulet of Solaria….

Source: #20. Snake-Rita Reveals to Magdalena her Newfound Access to a One High Telepathic Archaic Wisdom Kollective

#22. Amrita Brings Magdalena to her Secret Underworld of Wonder, from The Aqueous Transmission

DARK ESOTERIKA

…from Episode VI. 

[chapter THIRTY-ONE]______________________________

INSTANTLY, HER WORLD WAS TRANSFORMED AS SHE JUST AS SOON stepped into a most magnificent warm, tropical environment, with all kinds of lush, exotic flowers and plantlife of the most stunning colors overlying the land that was spotted with wonderful, exotic forest creatures — some airborne — busily bustling about, adding slight, wondrous sounds to the atmosphere. Not a single cloud was to be seen in the sky above, and the atmosphere had a sort of brightness to it that Lina had never seen present upon the Earth she was used to. So extraordinarily bright it was, yet not in the least bit blinding. Lina had noticed straightaway how amazingly fresh the air smelled, as she thought she seemed to be reaching an exceptionally High state of being just by breathing in the air around her. She found it instantly incredible.

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After an amount of…

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THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION eBook by MIKE EYE – 9781499902440 | Kobo

[About Me & My Page]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Source: [About Me & My Page]

Synopsis Of My Novel

*Synopsis of The Aqueous Transmission ____________________________

The Aqueous Transmission by Mike Eye is an incredibly exciting tale of dark lore that explores the idea of what planet Earth would be like if it had started out being ruled by small indigenous tribes of super powerful, genetically enhanced barbarian women with penchants for powers of perversion!

Source: Synopsis Of My Novel

☆ 21. The Golden Mother’s Metatronik Orb-Cube Comprising Her & Her 12 Silvery Seduktive Sister-Hawx Becomes Inadvertently Misled.

THANK YOU FOR READING DARK ESOTERIKA, A BLOG THAT SEES THROUGH THE VEIL….

 

This Post [#28.] Includes Text Excerpted From Mike Eye’s The Aqueous Transmission.

 

 

 

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[chapter TWENTY-ONE]


A MOST DEFINITIVE QUANTUM LEAP WAS THEN MADE AS EVERY Hankerhawk on Earth instantaneously became Conscious of precisely how embarrassingly defective the polar alignment of their Fucked-Earth had been for the past 25,566 years… and precisely why this had been so.

The Hawks instantly, clearly all understood their paradoxical dilemma as they retroactively re-envisioned the faulty paradigm they had been living in. The women altogether realized, in One Single Instance, that over all these years, they had in fact been attempting to navigate a depolarized Earth, and trying to do so while lacking the vital, driving Force that could provide to them supreme Guidance: a sense of True, natural Divine Direction, a certain kind of direction that would Illuminate each of the Hankerhawk’s own personal predestined paths. They altogether now realized that the missing piece of the puzzle was the enigmatic retrieval of this Divine Direction.

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It was not understood by the Hawks at this time however just exactly where these paths so stricken with Wickedness would in fact lead to. And the women were presently oblivious to any Awareness of just how disturbingly Wicked these destinies would in fact prove to be.

As if it mattered to their sense of communal reason, anyhow.

It was thus without any wonder, the Hankerhawks then came to recognize, just precisely why it had been so Goddam difficult for them all this time to locate a Goddam Godhed.

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During this climax of the current era, any Hankerhawk atop Fucked-Earth in any other tribe — not that there were many — who was not attempting to assemble herself together into larger charmed circles now became increasingly erratic in her behavior, and finally to the point where she, along with all of her Enlightened sisters, just snapped and started mindlessly slaughtering female newborns and any Gilded Grunts nearby — the only two ancestral descendants the elders of Bry Dellows customarily let live as functioning members of their tribes.

Utter Mayhem was in fact now ensuing over the Face of the Earth due to the sprout of the very first seedling of Space-Grain, a groovy space-crop that Fletcher Munsin had so solemnly, tragically help create, on par.

It was the tainted juices from a most Wicked intercourse so deliberate that indeed seeped into the Soil and spawned the first thing ever to be grown inside the Biodome of Andromeda.

The pandemonium among all the tribeswomen upon the surface of Fucked-Earth had increased threefold as soon as the seedling had been spotted by Mother Magdalena and the Twelve silvery seductresses.

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From the moment the Collective Observation had been made by the elite Bry Dellows female union of the first dark swirl wafting in close proximity to the Dark Space-Grain, the Mother ordered her sisters to help her at Once. They carried the limp Fletcher Munsin back into the pod, everyone assuming their “moving forward” positions, and the pod promptly took off from a now-hotly-Sanctified, energized surface of the now-freshly-charged precious acres of space-biodome farmland-plots, which were already starting to fastly soak and spread out amongst itself the newly-conjoined, most well-received Sacred Fertilizer soon to have every designated landplot throughout the entire Andromeda Biodome lively with the Fucked-Earth-bound Dark Space-Grain-oh-so-revered.

The shape-shifting High spacecraft mindfully penetrated enigmatically through the consecrated components of the Dome. In glowing orb-cube fashion, now carrying the compatible codes in their celestial light signatures, the proud Mother’s silvery Lightship intuitively proceeded to heed the call to its next destination with much valor.

All Thirteen entities of the sizzling psychopathic Metatron’s Cube of the Mother now thoughtlessly assumed that they were Headed back to Earth to bear ‘good news’ of the sprouting of the Space-Grain to the villages of Hawks throughout the planet.

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Not even for the slightest instant did any woman discuss the topic of destination; they sat smug and ecstatic, and still literally drooling over their prized, Sacrificed Possession that remained on the brink of life, the man’s pulse dropping to critically low levels.

With the Divine Sperm of Fletcher Munsin Cumming to Fertilize the Mother, she, along with Fletcher Munsin, in turn, had indeed Cum to Fertilize the Biodome floor with their Lust Juice. This, so the Mother thought, was to warrant her and her Twelve closest to then be on their way to save their world, a priori. It was the High Demand of Solaria.

Several hours later, the Hawks had come to notice that they had reached their programmed destination. The metamorphosis of the orb-cube transmuting back into the silver space-pod was the cue that the women had arrived.

Lina reached for the clank, opened the hatch, and pressed a button on the wall that caused the silvery steps to materialize beneath the ship’s outer door in liquid-flow fashion.

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One by One, with Magdalena Guiding the way, the Hawks stepped out into a world they all momentarily came to realize synchronistically, dumbly, was not even close to looking or feeling like Earth. Their newly regenerated DNA signatures had evidently guided them to a new place, the Hawks each now took it upon themselves to figure.

Each woman was instantly embarrassed and completely caught off guard. There was confusion and silence all around.

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Surrounding the women was a strikingly invigorating, deserted desert environment, most dry, the likes of which was unlike anything any of them had ever Experienced Seeing, or at least so they Thought. Dark clouds clogged the breadth of the skyline with such utter dreariness that the foreign vista oh-so-subtley seemed to the Hawks to be softly, slowly daring the newly-arrived chief humanoid-female-Earthling Space Voyagers to ever even consider coming to a place like this. This allowed for the organic aura of this distant — yet close — planet to project a Universal Forced Perception of its actuality, passive-aggressively imparting a subliminal, twisted mock-display of some supposed, inevitable, shocking upshot intended to intimately pity its alien Observer(s). The sly façade was Black, both in Appearance and in Spirit. Brown streaks of what looked like dense dirt were scattered over the smooth, grey silicate rock formations of the planet’s jagged surface, and the land was excruciatingly rutted all around the area from which they now stood in stupors. There seemed to be plenty of oxygen in the thick, vast, exceedingly sweet-tasting atmosphere, the core of which came to diffuse occasionally now with resident High heat and carbon in the air, conspiratorially inviting in taunting, invisible High Blazes that would result, periodically, in the most relentless hits of the fiercest of electrical strikes, suspiciously conjuring forth quite the powerful subconscious taunt.

Against the expansive gloom, the Hawks somehow sensed an overall strange overcast blindingness that sought to utterly unnerve these foolish Bry Dellows Hankerhawks of Fucked-Earth, and the colors and hues of everything surrounding the women now appeared unimaginably ludicrous; in Truth, most deep and personal…

The haunted Hawks remained silent, were totally confused. They all felt as if they were heavily hallucinating to an overkill.

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Magdalena caught sight of a small crater in the distance. It was a small piece of rough turf about 26 kilometers in diameter that was the focal point in a conjunction of several distinguished pale cracks caving in on themselves.

“Look up ahead,” she said to the ladies, her forefinger pointing before her.

Guiding the way forward, loyal Iron Spear in hand, the Mother braved onward. Utilizing her embedded wild, tribal radar/sonar detector, Lina noticed a slight, yet intense vortex-like pull on her subtle energy field.

She paused, raised her left fist up high, level to her face and shouted commandingly, “HALT.” The women all came to a militant stop at Once. There was a moment of silence.

“You girls feel that?” asked the Mother.

But before they could reply, all Twelve of the Silver Hawks were suddenly sucked into the gloomy crater just ahead, which apparently contained a sucking Black Hole within its Center.

Magdalena remained the only One still standing on the surface, her magical Golden dress somehow able to counteract the tugging she felt from the Dark hole attempting to suck her in.

She ran on straight ahead, right up to the edge of the crater’s murky drop and peered down in a panic.

It led down into a deep, Dark chasm below and she did not see any bottom to the hole. Winded, the Mother crouched down, her hands coming to rest upon her knees, still in Shock. She stared down bleakly into the Dead Center of the bottomless pit before her, all wide-Eyed.

Then she realized that she could see a faint, whitish azure glow moving subtly down, deep inside the massive hole before her, a giant orb in the far, unforgiving dusky distance nimbly pulsating with a High curiosity.

Magdalena felt for a moment almost as if she were spying on some important living, loving entity relevant to her very nature, certain to also point out to herself that she didn’t have to feel bad about doing so.

Squatting now over the edge of the ledge with a desperate bewilderment, sweat swimming about in a bodily bounty within and amongst the crystal-clear pores of her dazzling black skin, Mother Magdalena extended her neck as far out as she was able, peering down intently.

She heard nothing. -MIKE EYE

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☆ 5. A POST-KRASH LANDING

WELKOME TO DARK ESOTERIKA…. [post #27.]

AND NOW, WE REJOIN MOTHER MAGDALENA BACK IN HER RECENTLY CRASHED SPACE POD AS SHE SUDDENLY DECIDES TO INITIATE EVAC, STAT!

 

 

[chapter FIVE of THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION]


SUDDENLY, AN INTENSE DESIRE TO QUICKLY FLEE THE SPACESHIP overcame Lina‭. ‬She felt barely any shielding energy left inside her magical dress‭, ‬the powers‭ ‬of it mostly‭ ‬depleted‭. ‬She entered her small walk-in closet and hastily grabbed her knapsack that was hanging on a hook and took a look inside it‭. ‬Inside she found a ball of hemp cord‭, ‬an ink pen‭, ‬a pad of paper‭, ‬and some other odds and ends of useful purpose‭. ‬She slung the satchel over her shoulder and quickly stepped back into the bedroom‭. ‬Cautiously‭, ‬Lina went to go fetch Amrita to stuff inside the sack‭. “‬Stay in there and be quiet‭,” ‬she told the thing‭. ‬She tiptoed to her night table and opened the‭ ‬drawer‭. ‬She grabbed her handy dagger that was inside‭, ‬attached it to her waist‭, ‬and stepped to the door‭. ‬She took a deep breath‭ ‬and shut her Eyes tightly‭. ‬She planned on trying to exit the craft without looking at the flight deck‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

She was disturbed as she briefly caught sight of a potential future image of herself gaping in astonishment over the sloppy mess on the flight deck.

Lina shook herself free of the gripping, grimmy image, cautiously felt for‭ ‬the button on the wall, and the two parts of the door slid open‭. ‬She stepped through‭.‬‭ ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Instantly‭, ‬Lina noticed an intensely foul‭ ‬odor in the air‭, ‬much stronger than the one in her bedroom‭. ‬She grimaced as she returned her nose beneath her dress‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Her spaceship‭, ‬being small as it was‭, ‬was not difficult to navigate behind closed Eyelids‭; ‬she cared not to investigate further the loud shattering she had heard‭, ‬nor the strong stench she now smelled‭, ‬although she could imagine precisely the cause of both of them‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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Cautiously‭,‬‭ ‬Eyes shut tight‭, ‬Lina shuffled to the storage area on the port side of the craft‭. ‬The surface of the floor was heavily uneven on this side of the ship and she struggled to hold her balance‭. ‬She opened a cabinet and‭, ‬holding open her knapsack‭, ‬hastily reached in and dragged all the fruit and tiny bags of nuts and grains into it‭. ‬Eyes still closed‭, ‬she opened another cupboard‭, ‬felt around‭, ‬and added the rationed portions of flasks of Pure Fresh Water to the bundle‭. ‬This was all the‭ ‬food and drink she kept on her ship‭, ‬which she had only previously ridden on special occasions‭, ‬this‭ ‬particular‭ ‬ride‭, ‬obviously yet quite peculiarly‭, ‬being her last‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

And also somehow her first.

Lina grabbed her trusty spear that was resting on the floor‭, ‬readied her nerves‭, ‬and prepared to book it past the front-end of the ship toward the hatch on the far right side‭. ‬She could only hope that the hatch could still be opened given the condition of the pod‭;‬‭ ‬she figured this was a Once-in-a-lifetime type of predicament she found herself stuck in‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

And indeed it was.

She closed her Eyes and briefly meditated on her escape.

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Other than her magical golden dress, it was Magdalena’s trusty spear that was her prized possession. The demoralizing lance had also been crafted from the fierce filaments of the almighty Solaria, and had been, more than Once, handed down to her as a ferocious, inhuman aid in the brutal combat that would inevitably befall her throughout her travels. It was fashioned from unadulterated iron crystal that had been extracted from the center of the Earth. As such, it worked intrinsically with the bleeding planet’s core, and the edge of it always remained perfectly sharp, having embroidered jagged teeth toward the top-end of it. In essence, the enchanted staff was really a sacred scepter that, through the sanctity of Solaria, ceaselessly sought secret sanction with its specific possessor, entrusting itself with, whom in this case was, Mother Magdalena. This was a most awesome power with none other like it, and it had the miraculous ability, along with the application of two other star-gate Tools, to tap into the sacred Black Hole Sun of the Inner Earth chambers, providing the Mother, along with her formidable, fulsome dress, with the utmost protection and guidance on the surface of the densest of planet environments she may happen upon.

And now, from where she stood‭, ‬feeling great fear‭, ‬the Mother ‬mindfully folded down her epiglottis to block her air duct‭, lifted opened her Eyes, ‬and‭ ‬directed her gaze toward the ship’s hatch‭, ‬paying no mind to the flight deck‭. ‬Gripping her mighty spear tightly‭, ‬Lina took in a deep‭, ‬putrid breath and then went for it‭. ‬She‭ ‬galloped awkwardly toward the hatch as fast as she could across the surface of the sloped cabin‭, ‬her body in pain‭, ‬the odor unbearable‭. ‬When she got there‭, ‬she grabbed the wheel at the center of the hatch‭. ‬Heaving‭, ‬she used all of her remaining strength to spin the wheel to its extremity‭, then pounded on the button to the left of the hatch‭, ‬which was supposed to open it‭. ‬But‭,‬‭ ‬alas‭, ‬as she had suspected‭, ‬the hatch was jammed‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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‭”‬FUCK‭!‬‭”‬‭ ‬she cried out and started pounding on the door as if it would give way just because she pounded on it‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

The stink was repulsive‭.‬‭ ‬Lina whimpered in pain‭. ‬And just as she began to think up new ways of‭ ‬how she could escape the downed spacecraft‭, ‬a very flustered Lina started to feel wafts of heat blow by her‭. ‬Slowly lifting open‭ ‬an Eyelid‭, ‬she snagged a peak at some smoke drifting by and instantly became petrified‭; ‬the level of anxiety she was wrought with rose several notches and the back of her neck grew instantly damper‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Feeling completely overwhelmed at this point‭, ‬Lina realized that if there was any chance for her to make it out alive‭, ‬she needed to break free of the hysteria that was starting to grip her and‭ ‬focus her mind at least somewhat on what it was that she was trying to do‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

She took a brief time-out‭. ‬Trying with all her might to gain composure‭, ‬she consciously attempted to ignore her racing thoughts‭ ‬and project her powerful energy inward‭. ‬For a moment‭, ‬just One brief moment in time‭, ‬she aimed to block out all senses and attain a flash of Divinity‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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‬She paused‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

In a state of absolute dissociation‭, like a deprivation of senses submerged in water, her Soul grabbed hold of what presented itself to be the experience of an intensely real hallucination of a rather pleasant image for her. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‬From out-of-body, Magdalena saw her tall‭, ‬shimmering form swimming gracefully through an ocean of a milky‭, ‬midnight sky‭, in a patch of starry outerspace not too distant from the Earth‭. ‬Swimming vibrantly through deep-space as if it were a cool pool‭, ‬Lina was overjoyed to find other‭, separate, ‬smaller celestial entities gaily joining her for a merry‭, ‬intergalactic swim‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

For an‭ ‬instant‭, ‬just One simple instant of bliss‭, ‬the iridescent bodies all swirled together in ecstasy‭, ‬dancing happily in harmony‭. ‬Lina smiled‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

A stinging choke brought the hopeful woman back to her subjective consciousness of the physical being that was trapped inside the smashed space-pod‭. ‬She bent over and spewed out a few robust coughs‭, ‬spit‭, ‬and then lifted her head slightly to find herself looking at the jammed hatch that wouldn’t budge‭. ‬She shook her head briskly‭, ‬feeling a slight sense of déjà‭ ‬vu set in‭. ‬In an effort to limit the amount of smoke being inhaled‭, ‬as well as to dodge the dreadful‭, ‬drifting odor‭, ‬Lina took in a deep‭, ‬disgusting breath through her mouth and tried to see how long she could hold it in her lungs‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

As she held that breath in‭, ‬she tried with all her might to remain consciously locked onto that comforting sensation‭ ‬brought forth by the spectacular Vision she had just had‭, ‬while still remaining mindful of her task at hand‭. ‬She wanted to see‭ ‬how long she could hold in her big breath‭. ‬And with it locked inside her lungs‭, ‬she gathered up all her courage and turned around to face the facts‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Sludge‭, ‬scattered‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

And without realizing it‭, ‬she let loose her breath before her in a forceful blow‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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‬At the ship’s bow‭, ‬Lina helplessly beheld the same overwhelming mess of toxic rubble and pieces of corpses that had seared her vision from behind the great‭, ‬big crystal glass dash‭, ‬but now the dash was shattered‭, ‬and the grimy debris was scattered upon the flight‭ ‬deck‭, ‬having fallen into the ship when the cracked glass had given way‭. ‬Lina was aghast‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

The toxic shit littered a good portion‭ ‬of the flight deck‭, ‬and there was a huge mound of it just outside‭, ‬completely clogging the opening of where the dash had been‭. ‬It seemed most of the spaceship’s sharply inclining, downward-sloping front-end was buried beneath the surface of a scorched Earth‭, ‬trapping Lina hopelessly inside‭.‬‭ ‬She gathered a great amount of air into her lungs then released her breath to speak‭ forcefully. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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‭”‬SOLARIA‭!” ‬the Mother proclaimed with raised head and lifted arms‭, “‬GUIDE ME OUT OF HERE‭!” ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

She shut her Eyes tightly and mustered together some nerve‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Lina gagged slightly as she reluctantly shuffled down the incline‭, ‬toward the intruding wreckage to analyze it further‭, ‬noticing a thin layer of smoke accumulating just above it as she got closer‭. ‬Trying‭ ‬not to panic‭, ‬she scanned the‭ ‬debris‭, ‬seeking the source of the smoke‭. ‬In the far corner‭, ‬Lina caught glimpse of a small flame‭ ‬flickering faintly‭. ‬She gasped‭. ‬And then she came to find herself glaring into the center of the flame‭, ‬concentrating hard on it‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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‭”‬Solaria‭! ‬Anoint my Spirit with your scalding center‭!” ‬she cried‭, “‬But torch not my hot temple of flesh and blood‭! ‬Just as you said‭,‬‭ ‬I am‭ ‬needed to procreate‭! ‬Now get me out of here‭!‬‭” ‬She could hear a raspy‭, ‬muffled, mechanical meow come from within her knapsack‭, ‬which was still slung over her shoulder‭. ‬She coughed‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Lina again shut her Eyes. She took a slow, steady breath in, and then out, and found herself Once again Observing her body back up in the High Ocean‭. She ‬saw her long‭, ‬smooth figure gracefully gliding in twirls within the all-too-black, totally starless sky‭; this time she swam alone‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬-MIKE EYE

☆ 33. “Now that Pigs Fly…”

from the pages of The Aqueous Transmission by Mike Eye

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[chapter THIRTY-THREE]


THE FOLLOWING DAY BROUGHT SULLEN SKIES ENTWINED WITH THE now-familiar dreary, subtle scarlet. It was mid-morning when Mother Magdalena found herself sitting on the Hallowed grounds of the Hollow in deep Contemplation to the sky over what Al Rodnam had said to her, her back propped up uncomfortably against a huge blackened, ruined stub of a trunk that had once been a massive Oak.

She knew that the old man spoke only when necessary, and in riddles that bothered the shit out of her. She knew she cared very little about Al Rodnam. But she did not have the foggiest idea how it possibly could be that the mystic had already somehow gotten her pregnant. Lina had questioned the old man several times about what he had meant, but subsequent to his utterance of the perplexing statement, Al Rodnam had chosen to give Lina the silent treatment.

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Magdalena was fairly certain they hadn’t mated, or if they had, she noted, she most definitely did not remember it, neither were there any marks about her body that could’ve leant to her hints of recent sexual activity. Maybe the old man had used another tapped spell or something of the sort, Magdalena began to entertain, a sharp anxiety starting to well up inside her. She had decided then that if Al Rodnam was to continue acting so mysteriously, she would do something about it. She wasn’t quite sure yet what that something would be, but she would most certainly do something about it, she thought to herself.

The Mother glanced down at her tone tummy. Through her brightly glittering golden dress — recently recharged at the Inner Earth lake where she could’ve sworn she saw Fletcher Munsin within — she Eyed the bellybutton-less section of her fine stomach where, for every other human being she had ever known to exist, always bore the scarred Navel. After mulling over the evident paradox of what she knew of the peculiar phenomenon of human birth and germination, Lina humphed to herself upon considering just how ironic the senseless life-process truly made her feel after gaining the type of Insight she had recently received. Flooded by horrid thoughts she couldn’t shake, Lina became extremely frustrated.

She couldn’t Imagine herself pregnant. She didn’t feel pregnant. But the Mother somehow knew for sure that the wise old man had been telling the Truth when he said that the two of them had recently bred. Al Rodnam’s All-knowing temperament coupled with his irksome slyness deeply bothered Magdalena. It scraped at her insides with an uncanny cunning, causing her to feel unendingly inadequate in the company of the guru. And she would not be able to admit to herself that, deep down, she was jealous of the old man.

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Lina’s day-dreaming suddenly ceased as she realized how uncomfortable she was propped up against the rough surface of the huge pallid stump that dug into her back most irritatingly no matter which way she shifted her posture. She ogled the ashen stump with irritation. Unconsciously, the Mother knew that Al Rodnam had very recently secretly abducted her, taken her to his South Pole Homeland, had his sacred Soma-laced Sperm discreetly artificially inseminated into her uterus, and used magic to make her forget the whole incident, much like he did during the Aqueous Transmission. But the Truth of this occurrence would not surface up into the Mother’s Consciousness.

Magdalena returned Head to sky and immediately noticed something ugly and much misshapen flying crookedly against the bloody horizon — just one single, solitary fat mass of a twisted creature all by its lonesome, aloof and seemingly undaunted in the High air. Lina didn’t jump or start at all; she kind of just focused in on the airborne creature indifferently, squinting her Eyes as she looked skyward, knowing instinctively she had seen this type of animal before.

It was a flying pig.

And this pig had worn-out, leather-like skin with dark welts and bulges, patches of filthy, unkempt hair in unassuming places, and tiny, little frayed wings that were rapidly flapping out of rhythm without one another, just barely able to lift the portly shape of its bearer aloft, causing severe unsteadiness in its seemingly oblivious advance.

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Magdalena arose at once and began to follow the deformed swine, her curiosity getting the better of her. Although the creature seemed to have no idea where it was headed, it looked as though it was moving along quite steadily, and she liked to see where it would end up.  Lina trailed the flying pig for almost a half an hour before, far ahead of her, she saw a shooting arrow fly speedily straight into the small wings of the airborne animal, straight-away sending the soaring swine plummeting downward toward Fucked-Earth and disappearing behind a massive ramshackle boulder in the distance. Magdalena took pursuit in that direction with increased fervor.

The closer she got to the huge boulder, the louder strange, muddled noises were heard coming from the other side of it. Nearing the source of the sounds, the Mother thought she was beginning to hear a frenzied clatter of greatly exaggerated hog howls. Lina’s Eyes widened. Her Heart picked up pace slightly in excitement, in awe of the whole situation transpiring. After plodding through the disheveled, upturned rubble and gravel that surrounded the massive boulder, she had finally made her way to the other side of it.

The Mother found herself confounded, staring perplexedly at loads of squealing freak swine rushing around the place frantically, the whole lot of them scurrying recklessly into one another hectically, each one insisting the pools of their soppy sweat be swapped with the next one that scampered on past. Rank odors of an uncanny porky smut were laced with loud, pathetic-sounding oinks of the most mindless demeanor, the noises mixing with the haze about the site that wafted in thick, potent fumes of near-toxic levels. Lina covered her mouth and nose with her mighty dress.

She caught sight of Al Rodnam then, a mere shadow in the near distance. He held a medium-sized, hand-crafted wooden bow by his side, and he was staring directly at Magdalena, his hair masking his face, his robes hung loosely about his frame. So eerie was the still image in the grey of the day that Magdalena for the first time actually felt genuinely frightened of Al Rodnam, the skin over her arms, up her shoulders and neck having just crawled so emotively that fat goosebumps instantly appeared across the surface of her skin. She became extremely lightheaded with a potent nausea, the whole of her upper body having fastly froze up for a frightening, brief moment that left her in a cold, Wicked daze.

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After that insane moment, she came to and involuntarily shook her whole torso back and forth so violently that she almost fell over. “Ugghh!!” her voicebox then released out into the air in disdain.

One particularly large, fat hog within the mad piggery that the Mother wanted to instantly flee from, disgustedly squealed out with an exceptionally loud emphasis then, and Magdalena turned to see Amrita pestering the pigs as it slithered beneath their missteps, raising up dust in its trails. The Mother’s pet sensed Lina’s presence, turned to her, and began slithering in her direction.

“I knew you’d come around sooner or later,” stated the snake as it slinked up to the Mother.

“Where did all these revolting creatures come from?” the Mother ventured after a brief moment.

“The sky, it would seem,” was Amrita’s reply.

They were located at one of the very edges of the Hollow Homefront, and all these flying pigs seemed to have gravitated toward this general direction, one by one. Al Rodnam was shooting them down here, in this place. He seemed to have been expecting them to come.

Magdalena stared on at the messy confusion before her, eventually coming to fall in a bedazzled daze as she became fixated with the mindless muddiness of the stupid hogs.

Shamefully, she noticed right then and there how akin the innate behavior of these wretched animals was to her ultimate nature.

She took a glance back to the old man but he was no longer there.

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“That would do it! All sixty-nine of them!” was the rather droll statement then over-enthusiastically made just behind Magdalena. The Mother turned quickly around and there was the guru. He smiled slightly at the Mother, sensing her deliberation, and before she could ask him a thing, Al Rodnam said “We will have use for the Blood Pigs in the near future, Mother. They will be our Lifeblood.” His smile was closed and ever-so-slight.

The Mother suddenly lit up, taking up a candid swagger. She pointed at him threateningly. “Look here, Mister Al Rodnam, I’m pretty sick of your shit. Your crazy little wizard games are driving me wild! Why do you have to be so secretive?” She reached up to clutch her temples with the lower parts of her palms and shut her Eyes tightly as she rolled them swiftly around impatiently. Then the Mother reached down, assumed a dual grip on the little old man’s shoulders, and lifted him clear off the ground, bringing him Eye-level with her. She shot a mean glare at the old man.

The mystic remained expressionless, a mute look over his face. “Very well, if you put me down, I will tell you whatever it is you need to know.” Lina paused, tilting her Head slightly to the side and narrowing her Eyes at the old man. Then she sighed and released him.

“What are these creatures and where are they from? Be straightforward! And tell the Truth!”

“These here are the Blood Pigs, my dear Mother,” simply stated Al Rodnam. “They are a part of what skulk in the sick pastures upon your dark side, my Mother. The dark side of the Moon.”

Lina raised her Head over at the pens where the despicable swine scrambled about and rapidly received a potent jolt of déjà vu. She shivered as her thoughts seemed to clearly project images of Mandorla in reminiscent succession and for the first time ever, Mother Magdalena all of a sudden felt scared of everything she knew to be anything at all. She had just caught the flash of a quick psychedelic vision and understanding of Nothingness.

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She looked back at Al Rodnam. “So how the Hell is it that we’ve mated already, I don’t remember us mating at all. Did you dose me on something?”

“No, I used a spell on you. I could not let you know where I was taking you.”

Lina started abruptly and blurted out loudly “I knew it!” She took her voice down a few notches. “Why?” pressed the Mother urgently with a harsh whisper that was barely contained as she tried to reason with the mystic very simply, a hand on her hot hip.

“My instinct. And I don’t even question my instinct.”

“Where did you take me?”

“I took you to the Andromeda Biodome,” lied Al Rodnam.

He had, of course, taken the Mother to his existential South Pole Homeland. The reason Al Rodnam had to conceal his course to his Immortal Earth Homeland involved a painful secret that the Mother Magdalena could never know: in order to warp to the perfect, precious time-space of his Enchanted Emerald site, the great guru — only Al Rodnam himself — had to first bypass the Inner-Earth Underworld that belonged solely to Amrita— the same place the Mother and her Hankerhawks came to every so often to recharge their powers. He did so through an underwater stargate that was located in the very pond that could replenish Magdalena with her thriving energies. This amazing, tropical world was exclusively Amrita’s, and, as such, the old guru would not feel secure there. It was indeed embarrassing for him even to admit to himself that he had to go through this world to get to his own; he could not Imagine the Mother ever finding out this secret.

Once casting a trance upon the serpent-crowned Mother Magdalena and bringing her through the Underworld Garden to his secret hide-out, the mystical Al Rodnam had selected the contents from one of countless jars of his personal plasma-preserved jars of sperm incubating with the Soma in the Sirian Space Crystals he kept by the calm pond that teleported him to the Inner-Earth Fountain of Youth, and promptly artificially inseminated it into the Mother’s uterus before bringing her back to Fucked-Earth Genesis á la Aquarian persuasion.

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“Why the Andromeda Biodome?” snapped the Mother.

“So that we could quickly sew the seed of the first Space-Grain!” again lied Al Rodnam. He lightly tilted his wizened Head to the side and squinted his Eyes at Magdalena. “That stuff is vital to the flow of things around here, you must know.”

Receiving a vision then, in beams of High Light, of her most desirable turnout of future events to occur at Bry Dellows, the Mother suddenly could not stop obsessively thinking about completely overtaking in every way the Spirit of the elusive man that eternally enigmatically entreated upon her corrupt countenance, that ever-watchful, perpetually present, most attractive man called Fletcher Munsin. She probed fixatedly over just when it would be that the full body of Fletcher Munsin would Cum around, knowing all too well how infuriatingly manic and bittersweet he would come to make her feel on all levels of Emotion.

She thought she didn’t realize why this was so.

But she did.

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[BY MIKE EYE]

Goodreads | Mike Eye (Author of The Aqueous Transmission)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mike Eye is now on Goodreads! Please follow me, I am a Goodreads noob and need help getting started, if you lovely people don’t mind. I would greatly appreciate it! Thank you. -MIKE EYE

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16234480.Mike_Eye

☆ 32. THE SIRIAN MYSTIC’S RUNE STICKS 🌐

THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION

E  P  I  S  O  D  E    S  E  V  E  N

N  o  w   T  h  a  t   P  i  g  s   F  l  y…

 

And I filled my face with the light of the completion of their aeon. And I entered into the midst of their prison, which is the prison of the body. And I said, ‘He who hears, let him get up from the deep sleep.’ And he wept and shed tears.
—The Apocryphon of John

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[chapter THIRTY-TWO]


AL RODNAM LAY CROUCHED IN A NEW, SEEMINGLY UNRELATED PATCH OF GEOMANTIC TERRAIN somewhere within the stark Hollow of what would devolve in no time to become the everlasting Bry Dellows. The old man hunkered down on his knees against the unclean surface of Fucked-Earth, neatly arranging and rearranging the four Rune-inscribed sticks he now always kept within short grasp. Six peculiar inscriptions had been meticulously scrawled by Al Rodnam upon each of the four similarly-sized smooth, wooden branches now laid out before him, the strange etchings boasting daunting, intricate attributes that seemed to almost subtley glow a deep, dark purple pulse of archaic bioluminescence. The ocular lids of the great guru remained latched as he fidgeted mindfully with the four sticks in deep Contemplation. The Mother approached the man silently from behind, coming to cease pace uncomfortably close to the man’s back.

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Of course, Magdalena had not in the least startled the mystic, yet the man distinctly sensed something awry in the ultra-feminine aura hovering just behind him. Al Rodnam abruptly ceased mindful activity unflinchingly and, with Eyes remaining closed lightly beneath the thick, muddled strands of grey hair brought about meaningfully over his rough face, his Head remaining just where it was, the old man patiently waited to hear what sort of ill-tempered, ill-conceived statement the Mother would mutter. There was complete stillness in the air.

“I’ve found out where you’ve retrieved those live branches, Al.”

Al Rodnam’s concealed Eyes swiftly bulged out beneath his hair-mask, completely taken aback. He turned to the Mother.

“I am Al Rodnam, my Mother,” said Al Rodnam in deep monotone. “You must never call me ‘Al’.”

“Okay ‘Al Rodnam’ or whateverthefuck you wish to be addressed as,” was the exceedingly rude remark uttered by Magdalena. “Are you gonna tell me what it is you’ve been doing with those Damned things?”

“Fool,” proclaimed the great guru softly with blind resentment, and he resumed his mindful activity with full concentration, seeking to shun the Mother’s foul temperament.

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Magdalena rolled her Eyes, flailed her arms skyward in resignation, then quickly spun halfway around as she swiftly brought both her arms back toward her waist sides with claps.

“Whatever!” articulated the Mother irately. She was greatly impatient. “So are we gonna fuck or what!?” she shouted with high anxiety. The old man kept on his mindful task without the slightest flinch or reaction whatsoever to the Mother’s coarse discourse.

For several minutes there was no dialogue.

The Sun was setting in the West and a fresh glint of the rays came to shine momentarily directly into Magdalena’s Eyes. Blended with the proverbial blood-red Lunar disc glowing gloomily, seemingly beside it, it looked almost as if a sly high-spirit or demigod had suddenly then took a giant, fully-soaked metaphysical paintbrush to the sky in earnest to toss down a token of grey, watered-down warning to a hot and steamy Fucked-Earth atmosphere.

After a while, Al Rodnam glanced steadily over at the Mother, wisps of the wild stray strands of his hair that was perpetually shielding his Eyes ruffling slightly in a dirty breeze that was wafting by most curiously. Ignoring Lina bluntly, the guru moved his lips to speak.

“I did not retrieve these here pieces of wood from the Inner-Earth Underworld, Mother. I have a different place I tend to frequent for the necessities of constructing Tools for the Service.”

“Oh really? Where’s that?” Lina again started. “‘Tools for the Service,’ huh?”

“I would show you, Mother, but, alas, I cannot. The means with which I travel to the aforementioned geographical coordinates involve a method of navigation of which you know not how to conduct. My apologies, my fair lady.”

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Indeed unaware, and also uneducated, of the method of navigation used by Al Rodnam to travel to his personal secret, special domain where he had retrieved the Rune sticks, Mother Magdalena was also thoughtlessly oblivious to the sad, embarrassing Truth of what it was he needed to sacrifice in order to gain access to that travel route of his…  Magdalena would never come to know this secret Truth. Al Rodnam’s ultimate chill-spot was at the very center of a lush, tropical continent existing outside of space and time, located at the very zenith of the Immortal Earth’s Rod; it was the South Pole on a version of Earth apart from all Her endless reincarnations. Here, the fresh air always brought with it a crisp sensation of euphoria. Here, always existed outside the boundaries of time. Here, was the place the mystic had in fact brought his Mother. A part of the man had been staying at this enchanted place for eons, remaining connected to its most exotic Immortal trees and animals in perpetual joyous wonder. His favorite place to contemplate predicaments was a happy grassy knoll at the very center of this Homeland, situated just beside a subtle, modest pond positioned in the middle of a softly flowing river. This little modest pond would be the final destination of noble Nammu of Europa, the necessary messenger who would reveal to the guru that the End had Cum.

“What are they for?” the Mother asked after a short while, gesturing with a nod of her head at the Rune sticks.

“Ritual. I will instruct you on the Divine agency of the sacred Runes when I am ready,” said the guru unwearyingly.

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Irritated, Magdalena turned to leave, and as she walked away, Al Rodnam called out to her in a slow, mindful manner that fastly brought her chills. Lina spun around. There was brief silence, the shaded Head of the guru faced toward the Mother evocatively.

“We won’t need to mate,” said the old man softly, with a thankful frankness.

Lina was taken aback. “We won’t?” she uttered uncertainly, the words of the almighty Solaria flashing themselves loudly on and off inside her Head in an unrelenting fire drill of caution. “But… why not?”

“Because.” Al Rodnam stated simply. “We already have.”

WHAT !!?? HOW THE FUCK COULD THAT BE ??? DISKOVER HOW AND WHY THE FUCK MAGDALENA DOESN’T REMEMBER THE FUCKING SEX THAT MAY OR MAY NOT’VE OCCURED… NEXT !!! -MIKE EYE

THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION eBook by MIKE EYE – 9781499902440 | Kobo

 

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Now You can read The Aqueous Transmission for $3.33 on Kobo!

THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION NOW AVAILABLE!!!! 😃

THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION

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☆ 27. The First and Last Godhed of Bry Dellows Kasts the Spell of Solaria Upon the Mother

 

 

 

Excerpted From The Aqueous Transmission By MIKE EYE

 

 

 

Episode V. / Chapter 27


SEVERAL HOURS LATER, MAGDALENA FOUND HERSELF IN conversation with the old man, having eventually come to. He was about four feet short, with a long scraggly beard about three-and-a-half feet long. His Eyes remained totally wrapped up with strands of his long, grey hair. Dark robes hung loosely about the old man’s frame. He would remain camouflaged per order of the almighty Lachrylon.

Mother Magdalena was still groggy from her passing out. She could only see a tiny bit of the old man’s skin, just barely enough to notice the deep wrinkles.

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“So, what happened to me?? Who are you?!

“You saw what happened,” replied the man softly, deeply, “And my name is Al Rodnam. Pleasure.” And the old man held out a gruff hand toward the Mother.

Lina, still suffering the after-effects of the Delirium, paused momentarily, cocked her head slightly to the side warily, squinted her Eyes at the man, then reluctantly extended her hand out to shake.

But she quickly retracted it, all of a sudden remembering crucial parts of what she had seen in Amrita’s recording.

“Waaaiit a second..!” She was irritated. “Okay, where did you come from? And where is my daughter?”

“You saw where I came from,” said Al Rodnam, “and, as I said earlier, I am your daughter.”

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“You’re clearly not my daughter,” snapped Lina. “Before. When you had me in that, that trance… What was all that commotion earlier with the storm and everything? And-and who or what was that speaking to you in that loud voice? … What is your connection to Fletcher Munsin?! And what is this about a sacrifice??” She spoke very fastly. “What the fuck is going on, here?!” shouted the Mother with a justifiable resentment.

Al Rodnam did not waste any time using his abilities to quickly rid Magdalena of these memories. She knew too much. With a momentary lifting of some hair from his Eyes, he shot a fierce stare with his big twinkling Eyes at the Mother, magically erasing from her memory everything she had watched on Amrita’s display. Lina stared back in a million mile daze, blind to the effects of Al Rodnam’s magic.

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After about a minute, just before he released his possession of Magdalena’s mind, he muttered some terse words to Amrita.

“If you mention this to your friend here, I’ll dismantle you in a jiffy.” Rita cowered kind of like a cat in response to this remark, its processing board functioning erratically, unable to select a fitting programmed response to the statement. Instead, it beeped annoyingly as it attempted to meow.

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Lina came to, shook her Head, raised a few fingers to her aching left temple with a grimace, and stared back at Al Rodnam.

The old man swiftly turned to her. “That’s okay,” said he curtly with a curtsy, “I know who you are anyway.” His Eyesight remained fixed in deadlock directly into Magdalena’s Dark, fuzzy Eyes and her gaze was fastened to the old man’s like a carabiner on belay with a taut rope hitched to the grittiest mountain climber.

Magdalena shook her Head again rapidly, rubbed her Eyes with two fists. She glared back at the old man who was still sitting in a lotus position upon Fucked-Earth.

“I am your counterpart, Magdalena,” said Al Rodnam perceptively, his face tilting slightly to the side. “We have met before. We are the only two human beings left on Earth right now. I have come to procreate with you, my lady. We must initiate the cycle yet again.” The man was very solemn.

Lina snapped at the old man spitefully. “I am not having sex with you. Can you take your hair down so I can see your face?? Is this a joke?!”

“This is no joke, my dear,” said the old man, “And don’t forget what Solaria told you, now.”

The Mother’s Eyes widened. “How do you know about what Solaria told me??” she asked in astonishment.

“I have been told by a third party source,” answered the old man cryptically. “And what is this slinky mechanical contraption you have with you, here?”

“This is Amrita, my lovable companion,” replied the Mother with a false, forced sense of geniality, attempting with failure to disguise how irate she felt. She pointed to her pet shakily, still rather bewildered by all that was happening.

The man turned his Head squarely to face Amrita and although his Eyes could not be seen, the little android was ninety-nine-point-nine percent positive that beneath the grey strands of hair hiding his Eyes, the old man was glaring menacingly at it. Luckily, Amrita was unable to feel fright. But if it could, it definitely would be exercising that emotion right about now.

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Amrita quickly weighed out the options it had of how to deal with the threat it had recently received from Al Rodnam, and so erroneously came to the conclusion that the best way to handle it was to delete the stored memory of the threat given to it, as well as what it was it was supposed to keep secret.

This execution may have been a programming flaw in its microprocessor.

It may not’ve been.

Nobody may ever know.

“Nice to meet you,” declared Amrita all-smiles with an extended shiny, metal paw.

Al Rodnam glared menacingly for a time at the scrap of kitty metal from behind his hairy head-wrap. Then, after a short while, he squinted his Eyes hesitantly before extending his old hand to shake the mechanical appendage.

“Okay, so let’s get going,” said the old man rising to his feet. He turned around and began walking.

“Where are we going?” asked Lina, still part-comatose.

“You’ll see. Follow me.”

And woman and pet followed the old man.

But after just a few steps, the man paused. Before they left the locale where the hovering glowing pond had been shimmering its enigma, Al Rodnam remembered something very important he had to do before he departed.

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It turned out that Al Rodnam was able to clearly see straight through his hairy blindfold, as if it weren’t even wrapped around his Head.

The man took a quick gander around the vicinity, coming to set Eyes on the bloodied umbilical cord of the Mother that was strewn into the dirt, the placenta still attached to it at one end. He shuffled over to it. The old man lifted his left leg slightly and brought a foot down hard upon the placenta, reached down to pick up the attached slimy cord with his right hand, and promptly snapped the cord robustly from the afterbirth with one strong, solid jerk.

Al Rodnam stood there silently, contemplatively. He slowly raised the umbilical cord with his right hand and examined it, letting it dangle in the air. His vision pierced through the hairy head-wrap at the cord and glanced at it inquisitively for a brief moment.

After a short while, the old man proceeded to slightly open his robe and bring the cord to his hairy chest, and, using both hands, gingerly tied the cord around his neck with a tight knot. Lina and Rita noticed not the peculiar smile that then spread over Al Rodnam’s aged face, his back to the Mother and pet.

“Let’s get a move on,” said the old man suddenly.

Lina and Rita looked at each other with slight hesitation, then reluctantly proceeded to follow the strange old man.

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The trio trekked on over the desolate tract for several hours in complete silence. It had remained at least 104˚ Fahrenheit since the Sun had appeared, precisely ninety-eight-point-six-nine degrees Fahrenheit at this very moment according to Amrita’s high-tech thermometer. And, as the voyagers would soon discover, a concise pattern of daylight and nighttime would Once again revolve the planet’s cycle, as the mighty global timeship would again begin spinning regularly upon its tilted axis, which was now far, far more tilted since the recent far-reaching, twelve-strand DNA-strung frightful fission sperm drop of Fletcher Munsin into the Mother’s oblivious chaotic Earth-birth canal. And because of this, the trio would also come to find that day and night were now both each approximately seventy-two hours long.

The Moon would once again wax and wane in its original manner, pulling upon the far fewer tides that now rippled over the surface of Fucked-Earth, taking exactly twenty-eight days to undergo a full phase of both the wax and the wane, every month. The only difference was that it remained an ominous crimson color due to the Liberation of Mandorla, henceforth permanently to exude its blood-born haze to forever smear its clever curse into the sky. The Dark Side of the Moon would still remain forever turned away from the planet, permitting only the Spirit of the Mother access to its underhanded surface energies. -MIKE EYE

☆ 22. Special Signet Spot Zero: No One and the Mother lock onto the Grail

“Dead things are formed from under the waters….”
—Job 26.5

 

from Episode V. The Aqueous Transmission of The Aqueous Transmission

 

 

 

[chapter TWENTY-TWO]


THE MEGA-PREGNANT MOTHER MAGDALENA UNFLAPPABLY MEANDERED onward through the pallid Darkness with a slouch atop the shadowy, scorched Earth, her scepter in seizure, Amrita by her side. She had her belly bulge in a desperate clutch and was feeling a cross between pissed off and delirious. She was unaware of precisely how long it had been since she had initially donned and activated the ancient, sanctified artifacts of Solaria’s golden, glowing dress and stone azure amulet subsequent to her formal Anointing, but the woman presumed it was getting close to at least six months’ time, for at least the time she was used to “keeping”.

And still the Sun did not rise.

There were no stars in the sky.

The only entity that could be seen from up above was the ultra-bright Full Moon which just barely lit enough sheen to guide the two on their way, the whereabouts of which remained a question in check, if indeed the duo were to query their course in the first place; for a while now the two lonely voyagers had been distraught, without a clue.

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And, most curiously, the Full Moon did not even wax, nor wane all this time.

It didn’t seem like it could.

There was something missing.

Magdalena would stop to sleep atop the most unsoiled surface she would so happen to stumble upon, and usually only after becoming extremely exhausted. The abomination of desolation that graced the disgraced ground with devastation turned up everywhere the two took an unsteady stride.

The Mother had run out of food and water long ago, but miraculously her glorious golden garb was supplying her with the necessary vital hydration and nutrients she needed to survive. Amrita’s situation was also sustaining despite the treacherous conditions of the land and atmosphere; the robotic feline’s crystalline power-core had enough juice in it to keep it functioning for at least 60,000 more years.

The duo had remained mostly silent thus far throughout their heedless journey over the sullied scattered sediments of Fucked-Earth, neither individual having the urge to initiate conversation. Occasionally, Lina would fall upon the thought of what Solaria had demanded of her, as well as ponder the plenty of positions on precisely how on Fucked-Earth she would be able to carry the demands out. She felt frustrated but sucked it up as best she could, knowing there was nothing she could do to better the circumstance.

Every now and again throughout her travels Lina would receive a potent panicky sensation impulsively inch its way up the back of her throat, prompting in her a desire to scream and throw a fit. The woman would try hard to contain herself each time she became afflicted as such. She would occasionally call out to Solaria in hopes that the great power would heed her pleas, but the Mother never received a response. All along her travels, the heavy air of frustration over her predicament had not once loosened its grip on the Mother’s mood and aspirations.

Until now.

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The precious azure jasper amulet of Solaria, which was dangling against the cold Heart of the Mother, now began to suddenly tap into a communion with some foreign source she unexpectedly felt present on the planet at this time.

And it seemed to be calling to her!

Not two miles onward in the direction she felt drawn to by her amulet, Lina could faintly hear, as well as see on the fringes of her periphery, an ultra-high-frequency hum in the distance that was psychedelically pulsating a powerful cerulean sparkle that kept an Earthy, tribal rhythm at a steady tempo.

With a staticky jolt suddenly skulking up the back of her spine, Magdalena abruptly felt more at ease than she had in quite a while. Finally, she thought, there had been some sort of contact.

For the following several hours, she allowed herself to be gently lulled to the twinkling, subtle power that was reacting strongly with her amulet. Miraculously, Magdalena had become able to use the talisman’s intense powers to guide her through the muddled shadows and on toward the source that was indeed beckoning her so.

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Having now a destination, the Mother so took stride with a whole different style.

Fully energized, Magdalena slowly started to glow more and more vividly about her chest as she came closer and closer to the source that was drawing her in.

After many hours of travel from that point onward, a great deal of the scattered scrap and piles of ashy junk that had littered the surface of the dark, charred terrain of which woman and pet had thus far traversed, spread out as they strode forth, the wreckage slowly clearing to dissipation so as to soon start to supply the scenery with the semblance of barren wasteland. As the duo kept on, the super-psychedelic energies that were emanating from Lina’s amulet grew stronger and stronger still.

Before long, a sparkling, most striking vision appeared in the distance that was a stark contrast to anything she had trekked past thus far. The vision was before the Mother, up ahead a ways, and clashing in confounding conflict with the expansive vista of charred wasteland she was immersed within.

And perplexed by it immensely, the Mother soon decided to regard the vision as mere mirage. After all, in all probability being the only creature roaming the planet post-apocalypse, there very well could be no telling at all whether she had become a complete lunatic.

But upon approaching the curious, shimmering image, Lina decided to have second thoughts about it being an hallucination. There was a subtle brightness that moved like a small sly siren of sorts over the midline of the floating watercourse that was twinkling enigmatically, very much in the manner of UFOs reported during the days of old.

She paused, bedazzled in sheer stupefaction.

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Amrita popped a squat beside her. “What is it?” it asked the Mother.

“Rita, do you see that? Just ahead?” the Mother asked, hushed, pointing before her with her hand that was holding the iron-wrought scepter.

“What exactly are you referring to?” asked Amrita.

Lina tilted her head slowly to the left, all Eyes still locked onto the twinkling vision just before her. She bugged out her Eyes.

“Rita… I… Rita, there’s something there.”

The android shot a blank stare ahead and then looked back at Lina.

Magdalena slowly squinted her Eyes, staring ahead intently.

After a couple of minutes, she took a hard blink, shook her Head, and exhaled deeply, rubbing her Eyes.

“Rita, I think I’m hallucinating.”

“What do you see?” asked Lina’s mechanical companion insensibly.

Magdalena then caught a sudden ultra-vivid sensation of déjà vu the moment she somehow seemed to recognize the patterns in the blistered shatter cones embedded in the inglorious jagged substratum on either side of the apparent apparition, and she could feel tinges of radiation in the air that were bolstered by her mighty glowing golden dress. She felt exceedingly hot as she and Amrita continued to walk toward the vision, sweat starting to trickle down her face. Before the Mother shone enigmatically what seemed to her to be some sort of wavering, brilliant photo-sonic phantom waterbed of exquisite, glittering bright white light. And it had a blue tinge to it.

“There’s, like, a huge shimmering pond straight ahead, Rita…” Lina articulated slowly, “like, floating above the ground… wow, it’s beaming, Rita!” The seeming mystifying body of water mimicked the bright Full Moon up above most brilliantly.

“I see no such thing,” remarked Amrita.

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The woman slowly stepped toward the vision before her, Amrita stealthily slinking along by her side with reluctance.

About thirty-three yards ahead, Lina came to a stop.

She knelt down.

Her jasper amulet was now emitting so much energy that her whole torso glowed vigorously with hazy light-blue rays that exuded off of her in slothful, glossy wisps.

Before her, there seemed to exist a calm, clean, fresh glowing pond hovering just slightly over the ground with wonderfully shiny reflections rippling through it in silver sparkles that were emblazoned with golden lace.

And it had a blue tinge to it.

Mouth widened with mystery, Lina reached her hand out to touch the water and her fingers slipped into the wetness dreamily. She lightly latched up her Eyelids and allowed the tranquil essence of the liquid to enfold her wrist.

There, Magdalena remained, expressionless, mesmerized for a timeless instant. During the occurrence, her experience was psychedelically imprinted onto the morphogenetic field of the human race at a particularly high frequency.

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Before long, the entire body of the Mother was surging with warm, potent prana, and she became extremely euphoric. A peaceful smile had been forged upon the precious disgraced face of the gorgeous dark Mother. Her upper body, and now also the area of perceived space three feet directly above her head, had begun shining big beams of white light outward, with hazy blue wisps exuding from the beams’ edges. It was getting so bright within the local vicinity that Lina almost forgot that the flora and fauna of Fucked-Earth still boasted a most murky nocturnal ambiance all elsewhere.

NEXT: MOTHER AQUA-TRIPP. -MIKE EYE

☆ 31. Amrita Brings Magdalena to Her Secret Underworld of Wonder

 

 

 

…from Episode VI. 

 

[chapter THIRTY-ONE]______________________________

INSTANTLY, HER WORLD WAS TRANSFORMED AS SHE JUST AS SOON stepped into a most magnificent warm, tropical environment, with all kinds of lush, exotic flowers and plantlife of the most stunning colors overlying the land that was spotted with wonderful, exotic forest creatures — some airborne — busily bustling about, adding slight, wondrous sounds to the atmosphere. Not a single cloud was to be seen in the sky above, and the atmosphere had a sort of brightness to it that Lina had never seen present upon the Earth she was used to. So extraordinarily bright it was, yet not in the least bit blinding. Lina had noticed straightaway how amazingly fresh the air smelled, as she thought she seemed to be reaching an exceptionally High state of being just by breathing in the air around her. She found it instantly incredible.

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After an amount of time she was not aware had passed, inadvertently too shocked beyond belief to quite remember precisely what had transpired as she strolled along with her pet, Magdalena faintly muttered a few words ever-so-slowly.

“W-woww… this place… it’s soo… u-uhh… I’ve never seen… I can’t believe this place!!” Lina was utterly flabbergasted.

High above and all around the two explorers flourished an exquisite lush canopy made from leaves of the enormous rain trees standing tall before them, partly shading the two creatures from above. A generous amount of gorgeous, vivid sunlight was glimmering through recesses in the treetops aloft, the leaves gently swaying in a calm, cool breeze most exotic. Abound all about, amongst these boastful rain trees of a grandeur unparalleled prevailed peacefully countless other tropical trees and plants and flowers of so many different kinds and colors and designs. This was unique, comforting foliage the likes of which Mother Magdalena had never before seen, or at least so she thought.

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Scores of various peculiar avian animals of the most honorable exuberance dotted the clear sky time and again with quick vibrant flickers, engendering a rich range of chirps and squeaks and calls that diffused throughout the air and generated a perfectly harmonized network of intimate audibility. The middling breeze drifting tranquilly through this exotic land was remarkably fresh.  There were low levels of humidity in the air. No insects of any kind were present. Amid the cool forest shade, the temperature felt perfectly suitable for a typical human-being, with slight calming breezes coming to periodically blow on by.

The ecosystem of this sacred homeland seemed to be striving in complete joy and unity. Woman and serpent leisurely brushed past the flourishing flamboyance of vibrant Monstera trees, the enormous bright-green leaves bearing intricate symmetrical patterns imprinted in curious silver and white designs all over them. The splendor of vivacious Heliconias were also decorating the thick brush of this most striking secret jungle. Lady and Serpent continued to meander on through the enchanted rainforest, the woman totally awestricken, soaking up the scenery most pleasantly as the two of them stepped lightly through the greenery, the profuse colors and patterns of the undergrowth clutching their Heads in a light trance as these magnificent tropics that sprawled out as far as the Eye could see boasted a most profound vivacity just by Being, and being Observed. Magdalena Saw how perfectly harmonized this flourishing environment in fact truly was.

“I certainly can understand why you’re speechless,” said Amrita softly after a while as the two ever-so-leisurely strolled along, their Heads slowly rolling around in all directions, taking it all in, their glances glazing over all the remarkable wildlife striving so vibrantly all around them.

Striking sounds of strident, sensual birdsong merged with the surrounding area and started to coalesce with the resonance of the gracious trickling of a small Waterfall to be Heard in the near distance. Magdalena grew excited as they approached a thin, fresh fluidic ribbon wavering peacefully on through the wondrous jungle. The Mother quickly scurried up to the edge of the fresh stream upon sight of it, Eyes growing wider with each nearing stride and she came to drop quickly to her knees atop the cool bank upon her approach, posing to pucker a pout as she proceeded to purse her lips with poise, sucking eagerly against the placid fleeting rivulets.

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After several sips of the special Water, Magdalena splashed some of it over her face with flawed modesty, executed with mindful rhythm several essential breaths of air most pure, then immediately thereafter took an innocent peek at her reflection in the Water. This reflexive gesture, in retrospect, had appeared to the woman to be involuntary Once she re-assessed what she had just done; she felt unconsciously compelled to see her reflection immediately following her freshening. Noticing her ignorant reflexive reaction for what it was, Lina received swift chills straight up her arms and back.

The woman was glaring down innocently at a blurry, diluted face she knew to be that of Mother Magdalena. And, as her instincts then directly informed her, she, herself was Mother Magdalena. Although in this place she somehow almost didn’t feel like herself.

In the deep recesses of her mind, as she considerately gazed down into the stream, she thought she heard the uncanny unspeakables of the almighty Solaria assert to her its most powerful articulation. And, within seconds, she figured that this was indeed so, as she slowly began to feel the golden fibers of her familiar translucence Once again wrap elegantly about her lithe frame. Once again, the Mother was revitalized, protected, and sustained.

Mother Magdalena continued to stare back at herself through the sacred Waters of this phantom riverbed as she felt lulled to a most peaceful deliberation.

Lost in deeply personal far-out thought, she was gazing down almost through her reflection. Momentarily unaware that her reflection went fuzzy to the point of unrecognition, her mind started drifting toward possible ideas of how she was to restart humanity and procreate to the utmost.

After a timeless instant, a sacred moment that seemed to fulfill her purpose, Magdalena abruptly came to as she distinctly noticed her throat flare up in menacing pain, unable to hear her own maniacal screams abruptly being released with outlandish, terrible squeals in a most high, disharmonic pitch, a staunch sound that collided distastefully with the beautiful sounds around her, surely unable to be recognized by any of her kin had they been present.

A moment later, upon being jerked back to full Consciousness, her deep thoughts having swiftly scattered all about her, a horrified, deeply disturbed Mother Magdalena saw herself involuntarily splashing her reflection below her repeatedly with a most forceful swing of her hand, wrought throughout her mind, soul, and body with post-traumatic panic and torment. Seconds later, after she had composed herself, glaring back at her was no longer the image of what she thought her Watery manifestation had just fleetingly transmuted into.

For, she had just undoubtedly seen, as her reflection, the wide-Eyed, triple-optic abstraction of the gruesome face of an alive, beheaded Fletcher Munsin glaring back at her from the pond. -MIKE EYE ⊙

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☆ 4. The Triple-Eyed Head of Fletcher Munsin breaks into Magdalena’s Cockpit

 

Excerpted from Episode I. of MIKE EYE’S The Aqueous Transmission, a novel

 

[chapter FOUR]


SHE EXHALED A DEEP SIGH OF RELIEF AS SHE PLACED HER BACK against the reinforced door‭, ‬her cool, bitter lust-muscle beating‭ ‬rapidly and out-of-rhythm‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

In front of Magdalena was her special bed‭. ‬It was queen size‭, ‬made of memory foam‭, ‬and decked out with darkly colored bedsheets that bore elaborate tribal designs throughout‭. ‬The sheets were tattered, filthy, and had many holes in them‭. ‬Lying upon‭ ‬the bed was the recently deceased Fletcher Munsin‭, ‬Shadow of the last man on Earth‭, ‬quintessence of Lachrylon‭, ‬and recently reclaimed by Magdalena in an isolated part of a world now destroyed‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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Throughout her lifetime‭, ‬Lina had always figured she would eventually find the last‭ ‬of the Godheds‭; ‬it was only a matter of time, she knew, before she did‭. Alas, she would never come to know that whom she actually did in fact come to locate was ultimately not exactly the very person she had supposed.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Eliciting a most impassioned form of temptation‭, ‬an erotic display of seduction unable to be equally exemplified by even any of her favored adult sisters‭ — ‬the Hunters known as Hankerhawks‭ — ‬Lina had finally had her Wicked way with the man‭. ‬After an intense fornication‭, ‬an act that had in fact fulfilled her purpose‭, ‬Lina had finished the man off in her brutal trademark style‭: ‬castration by way of mastication‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

It reeked horrendously of decaying flesh in Lina’s‭ ‬bedroom‭; ‬she had originally planned on severing the Body parts of the man and ditching the pieces into deep-space via the ship’s toilet shaft shortly after she had committed the sanctified act‭. But she had become too distracted. ‬Lina buried her nose in her dress and proceeded to take shorter‭, ‬shallower inhales‭ ‬as to limit the amount of potent stench entering her nostrils‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

At Lina’s feet was Amrita‭, ‬purring louder than usual and rubbing its robot nose on her left shin‭. ‬Still a tad frantic‭, ‬Lina lightly kicked the android aside‭. “‬Not now‭, ‬Rita‭,” ‬said Lina frustratingly‭, “‬this is no time for cuddling‭.” ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Beside the android was the‭ ‬soggy‭, ‬gory pancreas of Fletcher Munsin that‭ ‬Lina had brutally extracted from the meek‭, ‬maimed man‭, ‬whereon revealed the curiously inscribed revelatory statement foretelling the impending catastrophe of planet Earth‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

And it would seem that Lina had received this message just in time.

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‬Amrita backed up a bit from Lina and then hopped up‭, ‬almost as gracefully as a cat‭, ‬onto the bed where the decaying Fletcher Munsin lay resting in torment‭. ‬Overcome with an intoxicating feeling of despair‭, ‬Lina dropped slowly to the floor‭, ‬dragging her back alongside the door from which she still remained pressed up against‭. ‬As her ass hit the ground‭, ‬Lina somberly dropped her sore head to her hands that rested upon her propped knees‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

The woman sobbed and tried to process through her cranial cavity everything that was happening‭. ‬She noticed the radiance of her powerful dress flickering on and off‭. ‬She ached all over‭, ‬and the center of her forehead was throbbing in agony‭. ‬She felt like she was becoming broken‭. ‬And this was very unusual‭! ‬she noticed to herself‭, ‬as she had always been the most powerful and collected of the beings among her race‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Or so she had thought‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

“‭There’s no way I’m the only one left on the planet‬”‭ ‬she thought to herself‭, ‬becoming scared‭ as she began considering the worst. ‬She had no idea Fletcher Munsin and the power of Lachrylon could take away all she had spent generations creating‭; ‬at least she didn’t think she did‭. ‬Lina felt more than had‭; ‬she felt intentionally mislead in the opposite direction‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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Contemplating her predicament as she sat crying on the floor‭, ‬an unusually loud‭ ‬mechanical meow came from the robotic cat on her bed‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‭”‬Shutup‭, ‬Rita‭!” ‬Lina yelled‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

She scanned her bedroom briefly‭. ‬She didn’t know what it was‭, ‬but she felt something misaligned in it‭. ‬Sensing something strange‭, ‬the Mother was slowly realizing that she‭ ‬was starting to be confronted head-on by that‭ ‬familiar‭ ‬hostile‭, ‬enigmatic force that loved to chase her‭, ‬but it was enhanced‭ ‬exceedingly‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

It loomed‭ ‬in her room ominously‭, etheric. ‬Glaring at her face‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Again came another loud raspy meow from Amrita‭. ‬Lina’s head was pounding‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‭”‬Shutup‭!‬‭” ‬she exclaimed as she rose to her feet‭, ‬pointing toward the android on her bed‭, ‬scolding it‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

And that was the moment she beheld it‭. ‬The horrific vision from the nightmare she had had on the eve before the sacred seduction‭ was playing out in her waking life. ‬In front‭ ‬of her‭, ‬Magdalena was baring witness to her robotic pet licking the dead man’s gruesome‭, ‬severed neck whereupon his Head no longer remained attached‭.‬‭ ‬Lina had not beheaded the gentleman‭, ‬and had not the slightest clue as to how his head had become detached‭ ‬from his body‭. ‬As far as she could remember‭, ‬the man still had his head when she had ripped out his insulin-secreting organ‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

For the next five minutes or so‭, ‬Lina felt a‭ ‬perverse lust‭ ‬to gawk at Fletcher Munsin and Amrita‭, ‬her mouth gaping‭, ‬perplexed‭ ‬at the display of odd conjunction before her‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‬Her injuries briefly grew numb‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‬She saw the man’s coagulated entrails slowly oozing out of his mangled lower body‭, and his two tourniquet-tied stubs were awkwardly poking out on either side, paying homage to her fucked sanctity. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‬She shivered‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‬Feeling a slight bit of embarrassment‭, ‬Lina felt as though she were possessed to stare at‭ ‬the two‭, ‬getting some kind of a sick rise out of the scene‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

She was sweating‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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Then it came to her‭. ‬Where indeed‭ ‬was‭ ‬the dead man’s head‭?! She knew what had happened to his legs: she had ripped them off. But where was his Head? ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

‬Determined to find it‭, ‬Lina‭ ‬hurriedly‭ ‬searched her room‭; ‬in her bookshelf‭, ‬in her closet‭, ‬under her bed she searched‭.‬‭ ‬Nowhere was the man’s Head able to be found‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

And then‭, ‬as she was reluctantly ripping apart her bed sheets to investigate therein‭, ‬Lina heard a very loud‭, ‬slightly muffled shattering come from the ship’s helm through her shut door‭. ‬She paused‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

And her mind seemed to abruptly connect the dots before she had a chance to whip out a pen.

She didn’t‭ ‬have to think twice about what that noise might’ve been‭. ‬It clicked‭. ‬An eerie insight as to where the head may have been hiding took ahold of her‭. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Lina trembled as she thought to herself‭: ‬No fucking way‭. ‬That’s impossible‭.‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

What the f@*# actually just happened at the ship’s helm?? Stay tuned to find the f☆%* out !! -MIKE EYE ⊙