Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 19

Driving Towards Desolate Land

Rachel and I were trying to get belongings packed up into the back of a mobile home or a van of some kind. Something had just happened, some poor soul was being thrown into a dark place and we were trying to save the belongings from being rummaged through by our enemies. Back inside, Rachel was crying and screaming in anger and disgust.

She was beyond upset, wrathful and defeated. I could have split the realm of Hell with the energy of my own wrath. But I had no clue what had happened. I just knew something happened. Suddenly in an unclear moment I thought she was angry with me because I was feeling defeated and at a breaking point though I could not remember what it was over. I was in a hurry to get things moved. Then I soon realized that she was addressing some demonic shadow in the corner to my left. The room where we stood was dark. It was a roundish living area that connected to a kitchen off to its side. I took note of the circular old house rug on the floor. I wasn't in the mood for throwing down demons. Mainly because I was still in shock over Rachel's apparent nervous breakdown.

I wanted to leave as soon as possible because the place was rather dismal enough by itself. A voice hung in the air. A dull, monotone voice. We couldn't really tell where it was coming from. I turned to Rachel and told her to block it out. She sat down and tightened her knuckles and began making fists, but still crying and yelling. I followed her lead and also commanded the demonic shadow's voice to shut up.

I looked back at Rachel and then looked in the mirror that hung on a nearby wall and Rachel came up and stood next to me. We noticed that both her and I had dark-brown circles under our eyes. We both looked beyond exhausted and so deprived of sleep that we appeared as mere shells of ourselves. Our faces were almost hollow from lack of sleep. We looked as if we had died.

"Rachel!" I pleaded, "We're not getting enough rest, this is an illusion because our flesh bodies are so tired that the shadow is using our weariness to deceive us! I'm here, there's nothing to fear!" Suddenly the demonic shadow appeared to have more shape and leapt from the corner and tore through the living room like a swirling wind inside the diameter of where we were standing. Things began being broken in the fury of the evil presence. Then it left shrieking out of the front door. After a few seconds the place was just a little bit lighter and we continued getting what we could salvage into boxes and loaded into the vehicle. There were broken pieces of mom's favorite tea pot, creamer and cups. I had to throw them away because they were too broken to mend.

Rachel had begun to look like herself again, but still tense. I went back in to get the last of the stuff. I was standing in an almost empty room and examined the wooden floor now with a crumpled gray-white rug sprawled out over it. I grabbed it and folded it. Suddenly little imitation pig-like figures came out of the corners from the walls, standing on their hind-legs. Instead of appearing scary, I thought they just looked stupid. I actually laughed. It seemed they were also faded as if they had been behind a special effects screen that was bleached. Though I could not see the screen, I knew it was there. I marked a 20 degree angle and lined up a mile of Nevada with a passage to Colombia in my best guess of where we were. There was a signal in the note of G. There was an exit nearby but I didn't take it because Rachel was present and I didn't know where she was going.

Rachel and I were traveling down the road in the mobile home with the boxes piled in the back. I thought mom was there, too. I just didn't see her. Rachel was driving and I was sitting in the passenger's seat. I couldn't understand why she was driving though. I felt uneasy. We were going through a part of some town that edged onto a vast, empty, dimming in the sunset, stretch of open land.

"A few more lights, on ramps, and we're on our way." I said to Rachel as she drove. Rachel was, at first, driving calmly but then started to drive all crazy and almost desperately. I was worried and wondered what had gotten her spooked. A red light was up ahead and she was struggling to get the brake peddle down. Then it changed green and we began traveling at an excessive speed. Mom didn't seem to notice, but I said in a strained voice of caution "Shouldn't we slow down a bit? Is there anything wrong?" Rachel nodded to me. A car pulled up ahead of us and then began driving slow. Rachel, still doing about 64 m.p.h., was coming upon the tail of the car fast. I grabbed the dashboard as Rachel finally noticed the distance and slowed down just in time. She then drove around the car and passed it. There was nothing but open, deserted land up ahead. The speed increased to 90 m.p.h. "Are we trying to take off in this thing?" I joked.

The road up ahead suddenly ended, turning into a flattened stretch of a cracked, dry desert with rocks scattered round. I thought at first she had gone off the road but throughout this part of the dream it never seemed that she wasn't in control of the vehicle. I asked if the brakes worked. I looked at Rachel and looked for the traces of anxiety because she scared me.

She replied that she was trying. As we continued through the bumpy ride, I looked out over the land ahead. It was desolate, dismal and dead. A desert out on some plain that spanned some unknown territory. I wondered why we were using that road to begin with, just as the edges of known civilization were disappearing behind us. I asked if everything was okay. I looked over at Rachel once more, and she seemed to be fighting with the brake peddle. I was ready to battle the up-ahead surprise if there were to be any on our way to the endless turbulent landscape of seemingly no return, upon the resolved acknowledgement of no roads. I said that we had to make our escape now. Rachel disappeared from the driver's seat. I turned and connected with the note of G.

I awoke.

I have had dreams myself where I was driving and the brakes wouldn't work. The harder I'd try to brake, the more the car would not respond or only slow a little but not entirely stop, and would sometimes speed faster on. Of course I'd have to steer it away from colliding with anything. Doomed to go down some awry road or stretch of land that never ended in its repeating inclines and steep hills. Here I witnessed the same thing happening to another, which I had experienced myself and knew of the terror.

Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 20

Mars Or The Moon (A New Red Planet)

There was a graying, menacing sky that served as a backdrop for some tower, raised up in some long ago scene. Nearby walls were cast in shadow. As if recalling some tragedy, I uttered;

Like wind through fallen autumn leaves,
all scattered about the doors and corners
So shall the halls of this place be likewise abandoned,
a gray, dull silhouette that only echoes with the song of death.

Indeed, the structure was a dull silhouette against a gray sky that promised an oncoming storm. The overhanging storm and sky were now covered in a calm, warm night. The scene changed to other outer walls, but it was still a warm night.

I was attentive to the conversation about Kosovo and Russian troops. Mom and I were speaking of these things while treading across a structure that was a balcony walkway held up by massive support arches like a highway bridge would have. We were heading for some convenient store for some snacks. Off in the distance I saw three pyramids across a sandy stretch of land and we stood upon a cobblestone road or a brick path of some sort as we walked off the balcony pathway toward the store.

This was also lined atop concrete and ran ten to twenty feet above the sand, like a bridge. As we walked I looked up at what I thought was the planet Mars. The surface was red. Mom said casually that it was the moon. I looked again and wondered why the moon was so red. The dust and sand there was as red as Martian lore and the sand below our feet as yellow and bright as the sun.

I wondered again if it really could be Mars and how dangerously close to Earth it was orbiting. It was massive in the sky.

"Remember that prophecy? About the moon turning red?" I asked Mom.
"Maybe, I don't know." She replied.

Then suddenly Mom walked off. I didn't even see where she went off to. I was standing there by myself gazing at the red globe as it hung there almost at horizon level. Silent and ominous.

It lingered there, mute and oblivious. Then all at once I saw quakes upon the surface, the red planet hovering above Earth was tearing itself apart. The grounds afar were being ripped and severed from within.

The gashes revealed pure darkness and the marks on the surface began to take on such a jagged appearance that the quakes splintered over the mass of the surface facing toward Earth. The tears formed three major long lines that swirled at the ends. The gashes revealed nothing beneath the surface. I looked in awe until it just went dark, then faded into a thick cloud of black atmosphere. Nothing could be seen after that. I looked for Mom and the others. They were not around.

I went to the convenient store that was abandoned but was still open. I grabbed a drink and looked over at the nearby pyramids. They were aglow from the light of the sand that lay stilled upon the Earth. Nothing was phased by the red giant body next to the earth.

I thought I was the only one who witnessed this. There was no sign of anyone else. I wasn't in the present time though. I knew I was somewhere else.

Circa 1998

Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 21

Escape From The Moon

Prior to the dream about the red celestial body in close orbit with Earth, I dreamt about the moon shortly before that. The usual transport into shadowy realms took minutes and I was somewhere very desolate and dead cold. The others seemed to be there, too. A brownish, yet hostile landscape, showed to be an obscure location somewhere on the lunar surface. We were all in a structure, like a big housing unit built on the moon.

I looked around in confusion because I didn't remember how I got there. We were apparently living there and had been for some time it seemed. All our things were there too. I thought it strange that we had brought everything we owned to the moon but there we were, basically roughing it. The suits we wore to maintain vital functions outside of the dwelling were like regular clothes or uniforms that would cover our frames and provide air and temperature control and gravity leverage, making us heavier than we really were.

The air system that was providing temperature control, and oxygen, had broken down. Repairs were drastically needed if we were to survive. It was decided that we needed to get back to Earth and we had very little time. We began loading the shuttle. I was hurrying back and forth, trying to pack and carry out crates. I kept checking my oxygen reading. I was already on the reserve pack in my suit.

Dodo was upset and seemed to ignore our present danger. Mom and Rachel were out of hearing range and seemed to not grasp the situation. Dodo apparently had had some harsh words with a pilot of one of the shuttle crews back on Earth. Soon I discovered that the pilot was actually on the moon with us and did not intend to leave. Just as I was loading some crate, I looked over at Dodo and before I could warn him, he was struck from behind by the pilot who had gone mad.

The oxygen had gone critical, and the pilot was determined that we were all going to stay on the surface until we either lost air or froze to death. I quickly tried to get the last boxes onto the cargo ramp and the rest of the way into the ship. Shallow breaths and the stinging of cold began to grip me. I went over to Dodo and tried to shake him back to. I really didn't know what his problem was. He was struck with a foam noodle that insulated a hydraulic. And being on the moon, it couldn't have been felt as more than a feather. "This is no time to drama your spleen" I told him.

The situation started to look more bleak under the biting absence of atmosphere. I began to move slower, towards an empty pool bed. There the demented pilot stood. He had a gun and was going to kill everyone. I ran up to him and struggled with him to get the gun while trying to avoid being shot myself.

"What?! Are you crazy?! If we don't get the hell out of here, we're all going to die! Even you, you fucking moron!" I told him. The madman didn't seem to care at all about his own life, let alone ours, and still tried to shoot everyone. Finally I grabbed the gun from his hands. Already having no more resolve other than wanting to be rid of this insane guy, even if we were going to die, I had to take out the immediate threat and aimed the gun at him as he tried to rush me and grab it back from me. I shot him dead. That was the end of that.

I imagined what it would be like to fly back to Earth. I had no sufficient training on how to fly a shuttle, such was our only escape from the moon offered. We were trapped and stuck out on the moon if we couldn't get launched. At first it seemed to me that we'd only been there for a short mission and that we weren't there for very long. Then I realized we had been there for so long that we'd forgotten what Earth was like. Next thing I knew, we were flying through limited space and headed for Earth.

I remembered that I wasn't too thrilled to see Earth. Especially after seeing the way the pilot had been affected by whatever he imagined happened back there. We sat in silence aboard the ship and barely escaped but we were all intact. As we began our approach, I wondered what it would be like to land back on the planet that we had been away from for so long. I saw a very warm and peaceful blue. A little hazy where the biosphere shrouded the mass of detail below. It was graceful and beautiful to behold. The Bavarian Forest came into view. I heard yodeling.

I shook back to and navigated through an even plane with the curvature of the earth. I looked back to the others and asked, "Does anyone know how to re-enter and plot a landing course? Or even how to fly and safely land this piece of shit?"

No one answered.

Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 22

Eyes Of The Dead

It seemed like evening, maybe later. I observed a man building some kind of structure with a roof of four sectioned, angled sides. The man was hammering away at the floor boards when the roof gave way and crashed down and almost smashed onto the man had he not rolled towards the center so he wouldn't be crushed. I got the strangest feeling that from somewhere from behind the man, someone was watching him and I could feel their eyes on him but oblivious to me.

Next I observed a woman standing next to the man. They were looking proudly on as they admired a new truck, a new boat and an old boat. For some unknown reason, with all their riches they had, they seemed obsessed about rebuilding the old, decayed boat and left the new things alone. It kept falling apart and crumbling like sod. I asked them why save something of no value when there are trees and grass all around that'll be here forever? I showed them to the wooded opening of some green place where we stood close by. A few passersby could be seen and heard from various points.

I felt the eyes again. I mentioned again, as long as these are still here, why try to save something that is rotted and dead? I laid down upon the grass and looked up at a warm blue sky with a few soft, white clouds. To my surprise I noticed that the man had laid down beside me and started to talk about how beautiful nature was. Then the woman who had been with him, walked into the woods and started to look around. The ground was smooth, as if it had been mowed. Suddenly the man had disappeared. I looked around casually and saw someone roller-blading down the grassy hills and thought it odd.

I stood and walked in the wooded area that led to some old fort. Concrete walls decayed and taken over by vines lining them and trench-like corridors in the open woods beyond. There were some kids listening to music. I recognized it. I knew the name of the song. I went to look closer and saw around ten kids between the ages of 13-18 years of age, dancing and singing. They were in one of the dug-out trenches where the sound was sharper and clearer. I smiled. They didn't seem to notice me but I sang along with them. I joined them after I felt the eyes from the woods still peering through some unknown portal. We all climbed up to the ground level of the fort and sat down while the music still played.

A familiar face smiled and came to sit next to me. She turned to me and told me that she had to be somewhere else and left. I nodded. I was still listening to the music as I got up and walked around the fort. The music blended so well and wrapped around every stone that I wondered where the music was actually coming from.

I started to walk through a part of the fort I hadn't seen before. It led to an inside hallway of some sort. I called back to the others and waved my hand. "Hey check this out!" I said. "There's some kind of hidden palace here."

The others timidly came to investigate. I went on ahead as I could still hear the music in the background. As I walked down the hall, it followed into another inside hall. Sunlight spilled into the place through white flowing curtains, billowing with the outside breeze. Rugs were spread out on the polished wooden floor, and the walls were painted white. Furniture pieces where lined up against the walls. For a moment I thought I had walked into a mansion or some kind of tourist visiting area of the fort.

I walked slowly down the hall and found a foyer, where there stood a big heavy wood table with flowers on it in the center of the room. Beyond the table I could see off to the right, a plain wooden door and about five feet from the door there was a staircase that consisted of around five stairs before it turned and continued into a dark, further staircase. More than ever, I felt the eyes staring and following my every movement. I felt they were of a dead stare because there was no form taken.

The wooden door and staircase were along the same wall. If I stood in between the door and the stairs everything became distorted so that to the right the door was closed and ominously forbidden. And to the left was the staircase. But if I went down the hall again, the door appeared open. And along the same wall. I figured I was looking at a mere reflection of something else and that it changed with movement depending on the perception of anyone in that place.

The music still played in the background. I walked into the foyer and sang along with the music. A middle-aged woman with short, curly reddish brown hair and rather heavy-set, walked into the foyer. I was a little startled but she didn't seem to pay any attention to me. What struck me as odd and unnerving was that she had come from the door on the right side of the wall. Which I had already confirmed was evil.

She seemed busy. It appeared that she was putting keys on a key-chain or something just as mundane, but the door she had emerged from was as if she had come out of some dark pit that had no floor, walls, or any light or substance whatsoever. I instinctively headed for the stairs because I knew that beyond them the fort was on the other end, as the fort wrapped around the place. That I would emerge on the outside again.

Outside would be as I imagined, sunny, warm and the sky would be blue with white clouds.

The door to the right, obviously a wrong turn.

Then the middle-aged woman looked at me. She was wearing thick eyeglasses that had a little tint in them. I could see that both her eyes were black. No color, no white, just black eyes within the sockets.

For a moment there was absolutely no sound around me. The music had grown so faint just seconds before that I figured I moved too far away from the sound or that the song simply faded out and ended too soon.

But all sound had been consumed somehow. Swallowed up by the presence of this woman. As if someone had pressed a mute button. Then the music far off in the background returned as I had kept the timing of it in my head, and it filtered back through into the strange place. I looked back at the woman's face, after looking around to see if the same hallway was still behind me. It was.

Although the woman's face seemed to be normal enough, this time even her eyes seemed normal, but still evil. I thought this was some illusion or trick. I continued walking towards the stairs, but slowly. The woman was going back and forth as if continuing her normal daily routine. I noted that she avoided the staircase and it, in turn, seemed to repel her, like a magnet against another magnet turned the wrong way. At one point she got close enough to the stairs that they forced her back a few paces without knocking her over. Like the stairs slid her feet across the floor as if she were a pawn on a chess board.

Suddenly the woman stopped and said something to me. The mute effect had happened again as I watched the animated motions of someone talking but no sound could be heard. No sound was issuing from her mouth. I stared in confusion and in a sense, smiling in relief that I could not hear her. She was obviously talking to me. Again the black eyes were present behind her thick glasses.

Like onyx beads, almost glistening with wrath in the room that was bathed in sunlight from the outside through the windows in the hallway behind. Where she stood, the room was cast in shadow and gloom. A heavy and oppressing air seemed to hover her. I peered straight into her black eyes and though I could hear absolutely no sound coming from her, I could faintly hear the music behind me. I held my gaze and then yawned. Inside I was laughing.

I checked to make sure she hadn't motioned or moved in a threatening way towards me. Her index finger held up, as if scolding me. I was supposed to fear her. But I did not. It seemed her dead eyes had a will to do me harm but was more afraid for herself. Her eyes grew darker. I cast her out of the hallway. She looked at me as if mocking, and in disbelief. Then her face grew into a scowl and her eyes deeper in black. Then her eyes shriveled and finally fell into the depth of an empty skull. She and her deathly eyes were no more. And no sign of any corpse. I harnessed the power of the stairs and the fort.

And the music played on.

October 5, 1999

Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 23

Grave Road

A vast green field stretched out over miles of area. In what seemed like the south part of the field, a young woman was standing there singing. It was a familiar song, the American anthem. She emphasized on the notes rather than the words. The words were changed somehow.

I walked back along the grassy field. Eventually I came upon a small dirt road that lead to a series of houses, or to another part of the perimeter that lead to a town. Off to my right stood a house. There were no ill vibes about it, just that it seemed to be covered in night and its white edges outlined the frame as it stood alone and quiet. The fence that was built around the large hill-like front yard looked as though it had frost, although it was very warm outside.

I turned away and continued south. There in the middle of the dirt road appeared to be a grave. An old man already in it, half buried. Only his head could be seen. He was face up and his body was under the soil so I couldn't tell if he had fallen through or was laid in his grave that way on purpose. It did seem as if he had been caught in an avalanche of earth and it buried him alive.

Only a portion of his face could be seen. His left eye edging towards the dirt. His swollen, deathly face showed his eyes to be horribly swollen and bugging out a bit. I saw that he was still alive. But barely. I walked up to him as other people began to rush up to see what had happened. Some people kept their distance. I began to clear away the dirt and soil from around the eye area, jaw and mouth, thinking he would breathe better but something told me not to even touch that thing.

I backed away as some other people ran up to him in an attempt to save him. I felt outwardly that it was a foul thing, buried there like that for a reason. Inwardly I felt no connection to whoever it was. No recall, no emotion whatsoever. In the sight of death I saw nothing. No ill on my part to have been in any way affected by this one way or the other. I didn't know who it was, and I didn't see or have any knowledge of what had happened but I felt that it was just. It neither bothered, upset, or pleased me.

I walked a few paces away, then turned to look again upon this buried man. For what seemed only a moment, I knew he was already dead. The decaying color of his features and stone cold bony face revealed that he had been dead for quite some time. He had no soul even in life. I thought, at most it was odd, even vaguely unnerving, that I would see the finality of it all.

The other folk that looked on the face more closely to examine the strange illusion I had just witnessed, tricking them into thinking he was still alive, finally declared in mingled voices that he was indeed dead. The corpse's tongue began to slip out of the mouth in an oozing, rolling-like pattern. It was a black, leathery thin texture, but it was wide and kept rolling out as if it had been rolled up inside his throat in massive layers.

At last death comes to one whose evil deception is shown on his face, and whose tongue was endless with lies. Graphic and yet benign, as it was. No one will mourn such an evil monster.

February 25, 2000

Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 24

Light Within Darkness

The roads were cast in a shadow of evening. Dusk, but a soft indigo color still under the faint light of sunset. I was looking out the passenger's window while riding along in a car. I noticed nobody was driving the car. I wanted the car to stop. It did so. I got out. I didn't feel spooked by it but I wanted to get away from that strange occurrence.

The sky was like a blanket of a calm golden brownish hue. I slowed down in front of a house I had seen in dreams before, maybe two other times, but in each one the house had taken on a different appearance or size, or was placed somewhere else but close enough to a familiar haunt. In this one, a cul-de-sac of houses stood. Maybe it was just three houses, but the middle one had a very dark layer of wooded area on its sides and strange large bricks holding up the structure.

From the outside the house seemed empty, not anything more than that. Suddenly there was an air of blackness. I walked and peeked inside the middle house, and standing next to it, it seemed a lone structure and the nearby homes now seemed far away. There was no floor in one room, it had caved in down to a basement that was now littered with fallen beams and pieces of the inside walls. It looked charred and I left and closed the door behind me. It seemed that I had left a familiar house, one that belonged to a relative or someone I knew. I never saw anyone there. I wanted to leave in a hurry because it was dark and unnerving and nobody was there.

I continued traveling the oddly quiet roads. Green lawns and bright sidewalks stretched out under the twilight overhead and it all seemed abandoned as if everyone were asleep at the same time. One road seemed to be a dead end, but upon the further trek, it never ended. I turned around.

I was riding a bicycle now, the wind in my hair and my feet resting on the frame as I let the bike take me down the suburban streets in a quiet rhythm of the wheels gliding against the pavement. I felt a hot, humid atmosphere raging from above. I turned from a west point to an east point and found that I was going back to that street again with that house. I looked away. I went on and soon it looked as if the land began to expand to a vast, barren scenery that far off into the distance turned into hills of dust and smooth mountain foothills.

But closer, and suspended a few inches from the dead ground, there were scattered over the landscape, glowing orbs of white light within thin, transparent bubble-like globes that bounced and floated in the air. Pearl white light emitted from them with an otherworldly glow. They seemed to dance over the ground. I thought it was beautiful. There were dozens of these orbs and I guessed there were hundreds further on that I couldn't see.

I rode by them, then looked back around, and thought I could barely make out the local town people here and there. I saw a few shadows pass by. The faces and shapes of people were not to be seen, but rather a picture that had been painted black and gray. They were moving and going on their way but if they got more than five feet from me, I could not see them anymore. They'd dissolve in a faded effect within my range of view. As if they were never there. The darkness seemed heavier when I could not see the orbs. Like little lamp lights, they were.

I looked back again at the glowing orbs and they were further away. I went towards them but not chasing them as I had no clue as to what they were and how they might respond to other entities. When I approached them, and came close to them, they stayed near me. When I looked around at the roads that I traveled, it was as if the orbs were unseen from that distance.

I reached up to touch the glass-like surface and found I was back in the car with the window rolled up. The headlights provided light that I could see the roads in this strange world now. Everything throughout the dream had been set in dusk, in the twilight of some end to some fateful day.

I could see all around me, but it wasn't like the day, it was a glowing night. In the shadows I could see more sharply than if the sun had been out in the usual choking, hazy layers. The night was clear and clean under the uncertain sky. I focused far off to what seemed a south point - and saw a fading sunset.

Before waking up from this vision, I found that I was within one of the glowing orbs after reaching out to them. I was seeing the reflections of the outside of the orb and that I was never in a car at all.

Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 25

The Fountain Of Blood And Water

A vague outline of a story unfolded here. Whatever it was, it had already happened when I stood in these unfamiliar surroundings. There stood a fountain in the middle of an old village that had been modernized into a small town, while still keeping most of its original setting. Overhead, the full moon hung in the sky menacingly.

A college was nearby for the university sprawled out in walkways, a library and other buildings. The fountain in the center of it all was round and was about fifteen feet in diameter. The water sprung from high-placed portals that were shaped like statues of gargoyles. It was night all around me. I looked down a few abandoned streets. I noticed that I was standing next to a street lamp looking on all of this. The night shadowed everything and although a full moon was in the sky, it offered no light upon the grounds. It was hard to see anything outside the glow of the lamplight. Piercingly, I heard a wolf's cry break out in the eerie, quiet air. A chill ran up my spine as I quickly leapt up to the streetlamp and then ducked into a nearby window.

I was looking for cover because a werewolf was approaching the town. Suddenly I spotted a few scattered people running from different streets. One man stopped in front of the fountain and tried to hide in the running water. I saw the werewolf approach the fountain. He was grizzly and huge, his coat bristled with wrath. I watched in horror as the beast ripped the man in the fountain apart. I looked away and felt numb and cold. Then I heard the wolf run off after someone else. Rigidly, and afraid to move a muscle, I looked back toward the fountain. The water was reddened and riddled with strewn bits of clothing and flesh.

I was searching for a better place to hide when I heard someone say that I should not fear the wolf. Wondering where I really was and not knowing the exit, I clung to a solid object. I saw a tall and sinister dark man walking towards the fountain. He had no fear of the wolf although he could clearly see the condition of the fountain and had to have known there was imminent danger. Then I thought that he was the werewolf. To my surprise he looked in my direction and spoke something to me. I couldn't understand what he said but I got the impression that if I went to the fountain, I would die.

I was inside a building now. The main building of the college, I thought. I was going up some set of stairs that turned into a ramp. The place was completely abandoned. The lights were all off and all the doors were locked. Then I found that I was inside some kind of cold, massive church building. I walked hurriedly about checking for any unlocked doors. I didn't want to be questioned, or worse, accused of breaking and entering just because a werewolf was on the loose. The inside of the church was decorated in red, and long halls that seemed to be designed to intimidate the poor and weak. There was more of a feeling of death within the building than there was outside where the wolf lurked.

I came upon a choir of children, they were mostly of ethnic backgrounds. They were all singing in a robotic way the words: Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me so.

I passed them and remained aware that the wolf was still out there somewhere. The wolf had taught them the song as they mimicked howling from under their breath. I turned around to see them again and they weren't really there. I was seeing some sort of playback as they were already dead. It gave me the creeps and I shuddered.

I looked on the face of a thirteen year old boy and all the other children, much younger, who were standing with him. They were all looking at me with a blank, zombie-like stare. As I backed away, there were suddenly a set of unlocked doors and I went through. No one was going to follow me or let loose any shrieks for the wolf to hear, or to alarm any other being. I was finally escaping, because they were after all, already dead. And it never felt like they would have ever come after me or alert the wolf to my presence. I noted they were all wearing red winter coats that looked to be stained with death.

Running past the fountain, I saw that the water had returned to normal and there was no sign of any foul event and there was no moon in the sky.

Distorted Chambers In The Realm Of Dreams - Chapter 26

Hour Ends

Over the curves of the world I rose further up and felt the thin, cold environment of space. Faraway planets hung ominously and deathly while clusters of disembodied star fragments swirled with wrath and raged in fires and stellar explosions. I drifted long and thought I was already dead. I remembered green, dark and mysterious planets I had been to before and wondered why I lost their location. I would have headed to the known living worlds, I thought to myself. But now I was unnumbered miles from any world than before. I was learning new courses and routes.

When I find myself suspended and lost and yet still traveling, there's some odd will or instinct to breakaway from the realm of dreams. I bounce back like a spring, in the flash of a second, over parsec, over unknown reaches. I land on my feet and rarely leave my secret or knowledge behind.

These chapters that came from dreams very vividly and yet vague in the waking world, have all been recollected and brought out of abstract recall in the telling. To merely describe something leaves out the vision, the state of mind, the angles and terrain as seen when they were happening. It does seem to become distorted when told in the alpha state of awareness.

I once dreamed about Freddy Krueger. But in my dream he wasn't after me. He was after someone else. That someone was after me first, then he showed up. It wasn't to rescue me. I simply wasn't his target. So I was of the frame of mind that he could do whatever it was he was doing.

I was also present when a train rolled off the tracks in Alabama on September 22, 1993. I was on the tracks with no idea how I got there and then jumped into the water when I saw the train coming. Then I swam around in the water, then the train followed me into the bayou. I woke up shortly after. I was in Utah at the time.

I was there when the Oklahoma City building blew up on April 19, 1995 when I saw praying mantis creatures the size of humans, maybe a little larger, all wearing robes, some in green, some in red, and some in white. I saw that they were trying to escape this building and I had no idea where I was or what these creatures were. I saw the rooms and stairs blow up and the blasts and fires killed them. I flew out of the area and stirred in my sleep. I wouldn't know what had happened to this building until later on that day. Having never been there, it looked like the same kind of building from the reports on television. I was in Arkansas at that time.

In another odd vision I saw a woman driving a station wagon on a dirt road, through a field, and was either trying to escape something, or get somewhere on time. I could not tell what her hurry was. The sun was already rising. It was early morning and as she drove, the earth opened up below her car and buried it in the rubble of dirt and rocks. Her spirit escaped but her body did not. Although this was out in some field, I had this unsettling feeling she met the same kind of fate that thousands of others met somewhere else. I had this dream on September 11, 2001.

But as it is, these dreams mentioned would not present much of a chapter. Nothing is really going on in them on my part. I'm an observer and the scenes are literally as short as the paragraphs written here.

I merely and most of the time, navigate the ley lines. The dreams which I've presented have, in most cases, something happening in them that would make it worthy of a story, so-to-speak. By no means have the dreams concluded and I have set up harboring points. But for now they are only visions in the stages of much needed rest and sleep.

1997-2001

Andromeda's Lament

~Andromeda's Lament~

~A Reflection of "Clash of the Titans" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

I was engaged to this Greek guy, who was the son of a goddess but he was always pissing Zeus off. So he was horribly deformed as a punishment from the gods. Personally, in my opinion it was more than justified. So I called off the engagement and he put a curse on any suitors asking for my hand. Seriously he's a psycho. Again, Zeus wasn't playing around but let the bastard continue to terrorize me. That I will take issue with till the end of time. 

 

So the next thing I know, I have to take a crash course in riddle-reading, and all these bonfires, and vultures are stinking up the place! What the fuck's wrong with these people? I get dragged to the swamp to learn new riddles after ambitious men have been burned alive by failing the riddle test. It's just another typical outburst from Deformed Greek Guy. I have chosen not to attend the burnings and I've not eaten in days in protest of this barbaric ritual. Have quit all barbecue events, as well. 

 

This man shows up out of nowhere, calling himself Perseus. Asking for me, and then asks for the riddle. I tell him and he gets the right answer which includes a dismembered hand for some reason. Gross chopped hand with a ring. Ironic isn't it? I mean, a riddle about a ring from a dismembered hand so that I may give my hand in marriage whereas I will be the next one to be wearing a gifted ring? Oh well. So I accept this scruffy-looking Perseus as the man who will be betrothed to me. Fair enough. I was put off my food anyway and barbecue was out of the question.

 

Perseus tells me he's in love with me and says he saw me sleeping. Strange fellow. And the nerve of him! Who watches a person sleep for Christ sake? I suppose he's seen the vulture that hangs out on the balcony. Why couldn't he shoo it away? It just doesn't make any sense. What is he, chicken? Yeah well, a vulture versus a chicken. Not a good outcome, I guess. Anyway, the wedding day comes. As I'm standing there smiling sweetly, minding my own fucking business, the statue's head of the goddess that graces the palace's main room starts cracking and comes tumbling down almost killing all my guests. How rude! Then the head comes alive and starts spouting off all this jealous rage bullshit about my beauty being compared to hers and yak, yak, yak.

 

Suddenly the dismembered head starts saying something about me being sacrificed to the monster that lives in the sea. That's a new one. Then yaks that I'm to be unknown to man. Like a virgin? What the. . .? Shows how much the bitch knows about me, don't it? So then Perseus takes off to save me from this fate. The doom from a now headless piece of marble that sounded rather pissed off at everybody, least of all me! Perseus heads off with some new friends and myself since I wasn't about to stick around with the disembodied talking head rolling around on the temple floor. There's this goddamned golden owl flying around calling all kinds of attention to us when we're supposed to be traveling in secret, on a secret royal mission. In secrecy. I have to take over because the stupid jerks are all lost and the owl is annoying.

 

They finally find these three blind witches which will then inform Perseus on how to kill the sea monster. Then I smell something cooking, something almost like BBQ. I'm starving at this point and watching those idiots climb up a cliff and almost falling to their deaths because none of them know what they're doing. The fucking owl is only blaring away letting the witches know we are all there and ruining any chance of us doing this quiet-like.

 

Later on from what I understand, Perseus was playing around with the witches' eyeball. I'm not even going to ask. I'm bored to tears as the traveling bard, the poet dude that hangs around, keeps telling all these long stories about the gods. There's one about Medusa and how she got cursed. Good grief! What the hell is their damage already?

 

So then I'm watching the team prepare to head to the river Styx and then off to the lair of Medusa. I pretend to be asleep so I won't have to go. My plan works. Then on the way home I hoped, sincerely, in my heart that Perseus and his buddies would make it out okay. The poet dude rattled on all the way home. He's just not right in the head and now my head hurts! 

 

So the day comes when I am to be fed to the sea monster. I'm all like get this over with already. Drums are pounding, people are grieving and this is supposed to make me feel better? They chain me to the stone there and this monster jumps up and takes his fucking time milking the terror from the crowd and the awe he's supposed to invoke. He's not really scary looking but he's ugly and needs to put some clothes on. No matter, I'm about to be Greek Princess paté and served up with a touch of iron cuffs, which they put on me too goddamn tight. No chance for escape, especially in these shoes. Fucking bastards.

 

Suddenly, a flying horse with Perseus and a dismembered head full of snakes comes flying into view. Oh gods kill me now, I prayed. But to my surprise, the sea monster turned to stone due to Perseus distracting it to look at the head of what I assumed was Medusa. The owl knocked itself out, the horse dove into the sea and I was rescued. Then the owl woke up, the horse emerged and I realized Perseus was carrying me away from the stone where I was about to be lunch meat. After a few steps I made him put me down because I really need some time to catch my breath and process how this man is always bringing dismembered things around me! Hmm. And I really wonder what the hell that sea monster's problem was.

 

Later the city celebrated, the wedding (take two) went without a hitch and then we were hitched. The stars were charted by the gods and Perseus, Cassiopeia and myself got named in them. That was nice of them to do that. A list of things I got signed up for was presented to me after that. What the fuck? I didn't agree to any of this shit. Not sure I wanted to be a star constellation either. I know that somehow it'll make me look fat. Gods!

Genre: Adventure/Comedy Spoof
Rating: PG-13, language
Written: 2005

Eowyn's Lament

~Eowyn's Lament~

~A Reflection of "The Two Towers" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

Just as I had suspected, orcs had decided to run amuck all over Rohan and some of the riders got sidetracked, strangled, squished, sworded, ran off the path and de-saddled. I have been crying my eyes out over the death of King Theoden's heir cause he was a nice guy, while King Theoden kinda just sits there with an eerie glow in his eyes. What a jerk!

The next day to follow, I've been keeping close to Theoden for comfort and Eomer has been there for Rohan's people. Grima however has been creeping me out. I keep telling myself that Grima has those tears in his bloodshot eyes for the great sorrow on our lands but I'm pretty it's from me poking his eyes. He looks kinda pale and unnatural, like he's really just drunk. But what am I saying? For certain Theoden looks even worse. As a matter of fact he just looks plain dead.

I'm troubled and I look out across the lands and feel a warm breeze from the West. Then all at once I spy some newcomers riding up. I see that they brought a wizard. I'm trying to just observe when this Gandalf drives out Theoden's demon which I discover was actually Saruman! That piece of shit's gonna pay! Hello King Theoden, glad to have you back. By the way, your son has perished and you ordered some unholy, god-awful skin cream and you gotta send it back. Grima also managed to grime his mitts all over me, and we're fresh out of dairy products because all the cows are missing.

Aragorn is acting really weird. I suppose I should smile and pretend that I know why the hell he's hanging out with an elf and a dwarf. He's kinda cute. I'm a little fascinated. To a certain extent. At least Grima isn't still hanging around. I'm gonna patch up these holes in my bower walls and take a much needed hot bath.

The day of the King's son funeral arrives. I'm not speaking to anyone and I've been crying all day and feel so empty. Theoden is beside himself. Such grief upon the land, in this kingdom, at this time. Still, at least, Grima isn't hanging around. Aragorn is starting to piss me off.

A half-assed plan to head for Helm's Deep is underway and I'll be damned if wargs didn't eat some of the riders. Aragorn went over a cliffside. I'm stuck here in this cave. This is the time to really consider taking my chances in the embrace of Grima's obsessive gnarly arms and camp out at Saruman's fortress, or just hang out in this cave until the buzzards or Nazguls find a way in. . .Nah!

Theoden is still possessed, I'm sure of it! I'm wondering why he's getting all geared up. All is hopeless. No wait, Aragorn did seem to come back from the dead. He took a spill and came into Helm's Deep before this great battle we're supposed to have. Maybe if someone can fall from a cliff and survive, there's a good chance that a small number of people, backed into a cave with pitiful military means can defeat thousands of angry monster orcs and win the day? Ah what am I saying? Of course we're doomed! If the Riders and the Wizard were around it would be different. It would be believable. But they're just not here. It figures. It's so dark outside. Yeah, we're pretty screwed. So long cruel world.

Lastest entry in my diary: I could never understand what Grima saw in that long-haired freak from Isengard. Why did I get stuck with Aragorn?

~Eowyn's Lament II~
~A Reflection of "The Return of the King" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

Still a little fuzzy, can't remember when we got back to King Theoden's Hall but somehow we're all there. I'm taking notes on the fact that we all seem to be celebrating something. I hand Aragorn a strong drink in hopes he shuts up before Gimli notices and asks me where I got the booze. Legolas is being weird and drinking Gimli under the table. Then that elf starts dancing around and asking me if I will let him style my hair and then winks at me! What a weirdie.

News of Saruman's death reaches a lot of people. I can't understand why I wasn't invited to the scene. Met a couple little hairy-footed friends; Merry and Pippin. They're funny. Aragorn seems to be rather annoyed having to hunt them down for a long time and then finding them eating and smoking at the battle scene in front of Saruman's Ent-infested place. Gandalf just has problems everywhere with Pippin and there's an odd struggle over a damned crystal ball.

We head out to Gondor and I have to dress like every other guy, kidnap Merry and ride like hell to get there in time for some much needed orc-killing. Aragorn, the dwarf and the elf head onto Gondor by taking the scenic route. I seriously wonder about their sanity and their sense of direction. What the fuck?

Huge battle underway and where the friggin' hell did they get those mammoth creatures? Holy shit! And here we thought ten thousand orcs were noisy. Hmmph! Not even! Saruman really has missed out on the big picture, because this is where he needed to be, in Minas Tirith and possessing these jokers! What the hell did he ever see in our little nowhere place? The mind boggles.

Merry is almost smushed to death and I get in a few good ones on that shithead witch-king bad guy. I'm wondering if whether or not the bad guys got these Nazgul flying lizards from the Loch Ness supply. I got into an intense battle with the stupid witch-king. I stabbed his face after he made a stupid comment about my gender. What a pervert!

His head imploded. That's right IMPLODED! As in condensed itself into nothing. As if he had really been from the center of the earth where the air pressure can crush skulls. It was kinda neat how he did that. Of course, now I'm wounded. I pass out.

I awake and there's this guy just staring at me. I walk around at night looking for any kind of a map that will explain this set-up called Minas Tirith. I wonder if that's Esperanto for Many Turns. Might as well be called the Spiraling Stair Street and Wall Tilt-A-Whril. It's given me the whirly-goddamnits! No wonder that Stewart guy just flung himself off the side. He couldn't find a way out of the maze!

Still weak and I suspect that I have something wrong with my back, shoulder, hip and kneecaps. The guy who keeps staring at me is acting really weird. I wonder what he wants. I see Aragorn made it and he's crowned the king of Gondor. I know there was a volcanic eruption and I missed it. I come all this way and miss the really good stuff. That pisses me off to no end! It's fucking retarded.

Genre: Adventure/Comedy Spoof
Rating: PG-13, language
Written: 2005

Helen's Lament

~Helen's Lament~

~A Reflection of "Helen of Troy" from the diaries of legendary ladies~

As I cannot even fathom why I'm in this strange group of people who keep talking about the gods as if the statues of them being worshiped wasn't bad enough. I have had it with these freaks!

The countryside is scenic if you're not used to much, and there are servants all over the place, showing they're not used to much. I have to wear fine linens and silks but I want to climb mountains and ride across the land and have adventures, in stylish blue jeans. I usually stay away from the boring fortress. One day, I see my future love. I don't know his name but I'm getting the name of a town somewhere in France.

While minding my own damn business, Theseus comes along and kidnaps me and I'm stuck out in, gods know where, and I'm quite sure a swarm of some really nasty bugs are following us. Apparently Peirithous is a turn-coat and cut-throat. And I can see up his skirt! Eeewwww! I'm blinded for life. Get me outta here! What the hell? Wasn't I supposed to have a freakin' horse? Where's my horse?! My kingdom for. . . .ah nevermind! Zeusus Hades Ajax!

I try to tell my captors to let me go, that I'm Helen of Sparta and somehow it just doesn't impress them much. Ransom seems out of the question, since I'm not even sure what the angle is here. I suspect treachery. Or foul play.

Since I'm not dead, I'd venture to guess it's more treachery than foul play. No ransom was even brought up in discussion. I'm certainly not gonna be handing over any brass coins to buy my way out of this. Maybe some brass knuckles though.

They're twits to have the nerve to kidnap me and forget to bring my goddamn luggage. I'm gonna remember this. To top it off, I'm stuck with Theseus. Theseus has supporters, family and all.

Life seems okay at the moment. You know that Theseus isn't that bad. He's kind of decent in his own batshit way although his comrades are surely aiding and abetting a kidnapper! What a bunch of maroons! Anyway, as you can see, it's not going well for me. I'm hating it. I guess this life isn't so bad. I'd rather be sailing on the sea trying to outrun the Kraken, but whatever. I'm developing a liking for Theseus. I bring him honeycomb and flirt a bit. I must have been drugged. But he's still making some armor and acting all weird. I make the moves on him and the stupid git turns me down. Go figure. I guess he knew I was trying to steal his boat and escape.

Then when Castor and Pollux finally find me and try to rescue me, Theseus fights them, and he gets killed. Castor and Pollux also get rubbed out. I lose my potential lover and my kinsmen! This really sucks. What a bummer. Oh well.

Then after returning home, the old man is still a sour old bag. I get put on the auctioning block. How the hector did that happen? Suddenly I'm the wife of Menelaus. Paris shows up at around this time and now I'm really trying to figure out how to slide on outta here. It didn't really help matters that I was paraded like some trophy and Paris sees me at one of the most awkward of times. Paris! That's who I was thinking of. Yeah, that's my boyfriend. So I run away with Paris and leave that mess behind. Off to Troy. It's like Sparta only further North. A little dry.

Naturally a war breaks out. They've followed us. There's no sense in trying to talk any sense into anyone. The first long, dragged-out months where a thousand ships are parked on the shore with spears wagging around are tiresome but Paris and I find things to do. Hector fights and gets killed. Aw, what a pisser. That is a shame. That sucks in so many ways. Achilles fights and gets killed. Agamemnon fights and almost gets killed. Everybody fights and either gets killed or limps away. A giant horse is wheeled into Troy. All these idiots jump out and kill everyone. No matter how much we all tried to end this stupid war, Agamemnon kept getting everyone else killed. Then he gets killed FINALLY!

Menelaus seems to be more mellow than he used to be. You know, I'm still kinda baffled as to why there was all this kidnapping in the first place. I mean, what was wrong with just offering a paid vacation? I always said I liked adventure. . .what would have been wrong with just a simple "Get away and see new lands!" offer in a brochure? What was with the long-assed war?! What exactly was the point?


Genre: Greek Mythology/Comedy Spoof
Rating: PG-13, language
Written: 2005

The Phantom of the Drama

The Phantom of the Drama

Her name was Kristine Klawsus Daae. She came to the Paris Opera House and carried only a few belongings in a bag. She was looking for the Count D'Oblong, otherwise known as Raghoul. She inquired of him at the box office window, and the gatekeeper who stood nearby told her that she'd best wait inside for the new managers to arrive. The new management had just relieved Monsieur Gerard of his managing position. The new managers being Monsieur Dewit Nitwit and his aspiring opera singing wife Bridget Carlotta.

Carlotta had sent a new worker down into the catacombs because she wanted to know what the opera house held, in way of hidden treasure, that she may also grab possession of. Naturally the worker did not return, for he had run into. . .the Phantom! A legendary opera ghost who stalked the opera house and was feared because of the rumor that his face was a sight of horror. His name was Edrik Drisseloin.

And now the tale of "The Phantom of the Drama"

Kristine had sung such sweet little melodies when she was a child. And in the firelight of many gatherings of her fellow servants, they'd sing all these songs - in French. They were from a small farm town outside of Paris. This would explain why.

When Gerard heard Kristine singing at a country fair he invited her to Paris for singing lessons because he thought she should really do well in opera because of the beauty and strength of her singing voice. But she really didn't want to leave the countryside and the firelight of an outdoor gathering because it always made her feel good. But Gerard insisted and she really didn't want to keep mopping floors for the rest of her life.

Gerard, of course, would travel with Count D'Oblong as a talent scouting team. They worked on keeping the Paris Opera House a success through finding fresh talent. One of the main reasons why it went so smoothly over the years was because of the Phantom. He would send notes and talk through the walls to them and if they obeyed his orders, they were not cursed and nobody ended up downstream from underneath the catacombs, which is where the Phantom lived, but apparently where everyone else who crossed him would die.

Upon Kristine's arrival to Paris she found that Gerard had been relieved of his job. The promising singing career of Kristine sank as she sat at the opera house quietly distraught. But after a while
the gatekeeper came up to her from his post. "Maybe the new managers will help you, but I can't promise you anything." he said.

So Kristine waited inside the foyer outside the manager's office. The new director had already signed up Carlotta as the Diva and gave her all the power over who would be singing in any of the operas they'd premiere. Of course that meant that Carlotta was going to be doing all of the operas and all of the singing. Except for the leading male roles and whatever mute cast she could find.

Monsieur Dewit had power over the director André and therefore Carlotta would be an overnight success. In her and Dewit's delusional minds, anyway. The Phantom, who was spying out Carlotta, was not happy with any of these arrangements at all. Notes began to fall from the walls and Gerard would give Monsieur Dewit the notes. Dewit was angry, wrathful, and broke out in hives upon each disturbing note. Gerard kept a straight face throughout each of the Phantom's notes. It was hilarious.

Gerard told Monsieur Dewit to not go down below. That the opera house is indeed haunted by an opera ghost. "If this is a joke, it isn't funny." Monsieur Dewit snapped at Gerard. "I assure you, it is not a joke." Gerard then went on. "The ghost has been here as long as I have. He moves everywhere, he moves through doors, he moves through walls. Sometimes it can be frightening. But we obeyed his rules, and all went well."

A heavy picture that hung on the wall came crashing down and startled the new manager. Without missing a beat, Gerard continued. "Rumor has it he lives far below the opera house," Gerard said without flinching. "on the edge of a lagoon. During the days of the Paris Commune there were torture chambers down there. That's his territory. That's his domain. That's where he lives, and anyone who goes down there, does not return. He calls himself the Phantom of the Drama."
"The Drama?" Dewit asked.
"Well, you know, he lives in a place that was formerly a torture chamber. It's gotta be the vibe of the decor or something like that." Monsieur Dewit scooted off and mumbled something obscene and something about not believing in ghosts.

Gerard shook his head as he watched the poor chump run off all blustered. The phantom's voice spoke quietly through the walls to Gerard, who was now left alone in one of the foyers.

"What is going on?" the Phantom asked. A secret panel in the wall opened and Gerard went in to tell the Phantom everything. Gerard was now deep within the winding tomb-like corridors of the opera house. He spoke with the Phantom about the new situation.

"If I had let that stagehand go, he'd have gone right back up. And they'd be down after me in a second. He found out where I live." The Phantom paced as he spoke. Gerard had practically given a map and directions to the Phantom's living quarters to Dewit earlier, but whatever.
"And he saw my face! Why did you let him go down there?"
"I didn't know he was going down." Gerard said, knowing that the worker Carlotta had sent down was probably hanging from some rafter over the stage, stiff dead and messy.
"But that's your job to know who's sneaking about!" The Phantom said as if shocked at Gerard's blatant disregard to his job.
"I have no job. I've been replaced."
"Replaced?"
"That's why all this happened. I only learned about it today."
"What am I going to do?" The Phantom asked Gerard as if he could think of something better than just killing everybody. Just then the rafters creaked in the distances above them as if to bemoan any further use of hanging bodies.

"I don't know." Gerard answered, realizing killing everyone at this point would be somewhat messier than just running away from the opera house, screaming into the night.

"This man who's replacing you - does he, per chance, believe in ghosts?" The Phantom tried to be dramatic as he flung his cloak and turned on a dime to seem menacing in the dim candlelight.
"I don't think so." Gerard answered.
"I will have to make him believe!"
"That may not be so easy."
"If I can't, they will all be down after me, just as I feared."
"Maybe not."
"Of course they will. They'll come looking for. . ."
"They don't know he's dead." Gerard interrupted.
"They'll certainly know he's missing."
"But I think I can take care of that."
"How?"
"You just leave that to me."
"Why it's all changed now, hasn't it?"
"At best I had a few more years. You must have known that Edrik!"
"I had rather hoped that you might be able to choose your successor."
"So had I. But I couldn't find anyone who wouldn't piss themselves talking to ghosts in the walls."
Silence seemed to engulf them. Suddenly a shrill soprano's voice was heard, warming up.
"My God! The place really is haunted! What is that?" The Phantom looked around in a grimace of torment fading to a smirking disgust.
"Well without looking, I would say it must be Carlotta." Gerard said.
"Who?"
"A member of the new company. The new star."
"But she can't sing!"
"Well obviously she doesn't know that."
"Well, someone should tell her!"
"She's married to the new manager."
"Good God! What kind of horror are you leaving me in?"
The Phantom rolled his eyes that seemed to bulge out of his mask with dread and tearing bloodshot spasms. "Not only does this man not believe in ghosts; he has no taste! How did he get this position?"
"Bribery." Gerard shrugged. "I gather Carlotta intends to run everything."
"That settles it! I'm coming with you! Ah, but I can't, can I? Sometimes I forget that I am fit for nowhere but these gloomy vaults. Bereaved of light." The Phantom continued as he walked away back to his dungeon abode with a very dramatic description of himself. "Like blackness itself. For I am blackness itself, aren't I? Where are my golden tents? Where are my lambs rejoicing? Where the hell are those stairs?!! AAAAHH!!!"

Gerard wrote a note for Carlotta and stamped it. It was a good way to divert her and the new manager's attention long enough to check the stage and surroundings to make sure the Phantom had gotten rid of the body.

"Take this to Madame Carlotta." Gerard handed a note to Jean-Claude the gatekeeper. He gave it a peek because gatekeepers are nosy. He looked astonished as he read what it stated. It said: I don't like the working conditions. As I may already be dead, don't come looking for me. Ever. I am through with this place! You go down below and snoop around. My eyes have already been gouged out.

Jean-Claude handed the note to Carlotta and backed away and left her to read it alone. Dewit walked up and glanced at Kristine as she stood waiting for the management to show up. "She was sent by the Count D'Oblong." Jean-Claude inserted as Dewit walked up to Kristine. "He heard me singing at a fair and thought I had talent." Kristine said looking around and thinking that all of this was a very bad idea. "Count D'Oblong is one of our biggest patrons." Dewit said, as he looked suspiciously at her.

Suddenly Carlotta storms into the place with Gerard's note in her hand. Dewit stopped her midway to her suite and smiled. "Darling? This lovely young girl would like some singing lessons. What can we do?" "Nothing." Carlotta snapped. "You think this girl can sing?" Carlotta chuckled audibly. "Look how she stands. Look at what she's wearing! Where did you grow up - on a farm?" Kristine gave an expression of slight calm mingled with the focus of someone who positions themselves right before taking their opponent's head off with a stainless steel blade. "Sort of. Madame." She answered.

"The world of opera has nothing to do with farm life!" Carlotta retorted. "Why are you asking me this?" "Because she has a patron who is rich and powerful." Dewit said with tension under his breath. Carlotta turned back to Kristine. "Ah. There's only one way to learn to sing. Observe singers! My dear, I am going to let you work for me in the costume department. She has just replaced what's his name as my costumer." Carlotta thrust the note into Dewit's face. "He sent me this note. Doesn't like the working conditions! Can you believe it? After all I've done for that man! Good riddance is what I say!" Carlotta stormed off.

"Where are you staying?" Jean-Claude asked Kristine. "No place. I have no money." Kristine informed him meekly.
"I'm not supposed to do this. You mustn't tell anyone." They went into a corridor and entered off the prop room which lead to a small room with a cot. "You can stay here till you can afford something else. But! At night, do not wander around the opera house. It's for your own protection. This place is huge. You can get lost. Goodnight." Jean-Claude said as he left. "This is like a dream come true. In a dismal, dungeonous kind of way." Kristine smiled with a hint of not really smiling. She had heard of the legendary opera ghost. Rumors of his existence. Tales of the opera being haunted. Still she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but highly annoyed.

After Kristine put her things down, and threw a blanket on the cot she naturally began to wander around. She eventually found the stage. It was big, dark and eerily silent. She began to sing.

Here I am to summon an Opera Ghost,
out from the catacombs.
Lurking like a dungeon host.
I got dragged into this by Count Oblong
Don't wanna know why
Di di do, di di oh die!

The Phantom heard the distant sound of a woman singing and rushed up a stair case. From Box Five the Phantom watched Kristine singing onstage, as she just made up lyrics and sort of danced a little as she sang. Then she found a prop of a sword and killed the prop of a knight that stood nearby. It fell like a clankering pile of metal in an echo chamber. It made a horrible racket and both Kristine and the Phantom ran clean out of that area of the building and hid in their respective hiding holes.

The next day Kristine went about her new job as costumer and slave. "What shall I do?" Kristine asked her co-worker. "Sometimes they lay their costumes here, sometimes over there. Their names are sewn in the back. You'll pick up the costumes carefully and put them in this cart. Costumes are like people. You must handle them carefully." the co-worker told her.

The day was full of rehearsals for the upcoming opera of Faust. Carlotta was to be the lead as Marguerite and also the lead in another upcoming opera, Norma. Kristine went about her work as the Phantom watched her all day from various vantage points. Kristine was still trying not to be pissed off about being a costumer when she was sent to sing. She figured it wasn't even worth it, and thought of escaping. She still tried to understand Carlotta's logic about singing in general but in the end she knew that Carlotta was destined to be a laughing stock. Still, Kristine was a little self-conscious about what she was wearing but figured that people sometimes dressed like human versions of potato sacks.

The lights began to go out around the opera house and Kristine was left alone on the stage once more as she gathered costumes. The Phantom hid in the orchestra pit as he watched her. She was suddenly aware of his presence and she was startled. "Holy shit! What a scare! I thought you were Lon Chaney in the orchestra pit!" Kristine yelped. "Please don't be afraid. I'm a friend. As well as an admirer." The Phantom spoke gently to her. Kristine moved toward him to see him. "No, please. I would appreciate it greatly if you were to stay exactly where you are." Kristine stood still. The Phantom continued. "Mademoiselle, last night I heard you singing. I know, you thought you were alone. But you were not. You have the most astonishing voice. It is like an angel, exquisite in tone and shape, in fact in almost every single detail." Seriously? Kristine thought.

"Shape? What's with the shape? I can understand tone, but shape? Don't you mean texture? I mean, what's my voice shaped like? A triangle, a square, a polyheptagon?" Kristine asked. The Phantom paused for a moment, trying to understand what Kristine had asked. His mind went blank for a moment before he continued. "Except, but forgive me, it is untrained. Without training, your voice will never attain the heights for which I know it's been destined. I would like to help bring you there. And I can. I am myself a singer of some renown. There is a condition. I've never taken on any students. For until last night, I have never wanted to. If others hear I am giving lessons, they will want them too. Therefore, if you choose to let me be your guide, I must insist that I remain anonymous. Which is why I'm wearing this mask. Please, there's no need for an answer now. Good night."
As the Phantom disappeared, Kristine was already asleep curled up in the costume cart.

Next morning Kristine hummed merrily as she arranged costumes. She had gotten used to going about her chores without paying any attention to the usual prattle around the place. She secretly kept her ever-growing desire to strangle Carlotta well hidden, but she knew she would break eventually and just do something.

As Kristine went through the corridor Jean-Claude hurried toward her. "Kristine! I've found you a place to stay! But far away with a family, and it won't cost you anything!" Kristine kept walking. "Thank you. But I'm really very happy with my room." When Kristine got far enough down the corridor she secretly wanted to scream back that she wanted to stay with some family for free, that lived far away, but she knew she just couldn't. Getting even with Carlotta and now this guy offering lessons was a mission at this point. "But I'm not supposed to let people stay here!" Jean-Claude called after her. The opera ghost was heard through the walls once again and Jean-Claude almost pissed himself. The Phantom's voice was a deep, meaningful echo. "Jean-Claude. . ." The voice called.
"What?" Said Jean-Claude frightened. "Let her stay. Please? As a kindness to me." The Phantom pleaded.

A few weeks had passed and the opera house presented the opening of Norma, ready to premiere during the season.

As the Phantom had rigged Carlotta's wig with itching powder, Kristine hid behind the scenes to rig the crescent moon prop that Carlotta would be holding. Kristine had placed a small amount of glue onto the edges of it in various places and would hold it carefully by the unglued surface when handing it to Carlotta before she went on. As Carlotta readied herself in her dressing room, the Phantom's timing was just in the nick of itself, when Carlotta had noticed her wig missing. In a panic she looked for it high and low. The Phantom slid the panel in the wall quickly as he managed to put the rigged-wig back without her noticing any movement. Carlotta thought she had overlooked it, breathed a sigh of relief and quickly put it on.

"Five minutes!" A voice called from outside her door. With stagehands now putting the last touches to Carlotta's costume, Kristine stood ready to hand Carlotta her moon prop. Carlotta took it and proceeded to the stage. She sang very badly.

See ditzy oh see porche,
dee oh tento burrito dorito,
Por kee bring me dee oranges
tea drink and a pristine Norma

As she sang, her wig had begun to itch so badly that Carlotta used the moon prop to scratch at her wig. After about five minutes she had given up trying to do it in a subtle way. Then she tried to toss away the prop she held but it stuck to her hand as she grabbed at another prop with her free hand to scratch at her wig but it slipped out of her hand due to the oil smeared all over it. As the audience had, by this time, given in to hysterical laughter, she tore her wig off and that too stuck to her hand as the glue got everywhere.

Carlotta's debut was a disaster. The Phantom and Kristine, although hidden back in the shadows, laughed and giggled in fits of delight and mischief.

Later that night the Phantom came to fetch Kristine for her singing lessons. While Kristine lit some candles the Phantom spoke to her through an opening in a wall. "Kristine?" he said. She looked in his direction. "Yes, Maestro?"
"You ready for our next lesson?"
"Yes." Then Kristine paused for a moment to study the Phantom's masked expression when he stood at the piano. "Did you see what happened to Carlotta?" Kristine asked innocently.
"No. What?" he replied nonchalant. "Her debut was a disaster!" Kristine was trying to sound sympathetic, but managed to look a little deviously apathetic instead. She turned to the Phantom and asked if he heard anything of Carlotta's debut. "I may have seen some of the show, I don't really attend too many shows during the first part of the opera season, I tend to wait for a time." He said while keeping his eyes fixed on Kristine.

Kristine grabbed the Phantom by the ruffles on his shirt and gently drew him close to her. "Look, I don't care what opera you attend or not, I want in on the revenge too. If it weren't for Carlotta, I'd be doing what I was sent here for and we wouldn't have to sneak around these dark catacombs like opera mice in some large maze with like, real rodents!"
The Phantom held Kristine's shoulders tightly trying not to give the impression that he was actually pleased that she could play the practical joke very well. "I knew that there was more afoot than my wig trick on Carlotta! But you, Kristine, I'd have never thunk that you were behind any sabotage of Carlotta's debut!"

Kristine pulled away then sat down at the piano where the Phantom joined her before carrying on with the singing lessons.
"Look, Kristine, I know how you feel but let me deal with Carlotta. Just sing. It's all I ask."
"You can't stop me from the only purpose for which I was destined - and that is, to see how many ways there exists to ruin a diva's career. Or blow up the whole damned place."

The Phantom gently laughed at what he thought was a joke, Kristine smiled quietly. They continued on with the singing lessons putting aside the subject of Carlotta for the time being. They filled the room with his flawless piano playing and her soaring voice. A moment of what could be, while there were so many unresolved issues.

The opening night of La Traviata was underway as Carlotta prepared herself backstage. She had people fussing over her and placing jewelry on her wrists, fingers and ears.

The orchestra began to play the overture. Kristine stayed away from everyone else as she positioned a sling shot and tried to pick off a few glasses from a tray that a stand-in held aloft. But as he kept moving, she kept missing and only managed to knock the head-dress off one of the chorus girls. When the tenor was finished singing his part, Carlotta began singing and took the glasses of wine to the other male singers on stage as the stand-in waited close by with the tray. Just as she picked up the last glass of wine to toast everyone as she sang her lines, the glass stayed firmly attached to the tray. The audience roared with laughter, Carlotta looked horrified and Kristine knew the Phantom had glued Carlotta's glass to the tray. Kristine was a little peeved that the Phantom was stealing her best ideas.

The Opera House was a riot with people in hysterical guffawing as Carlotta stormed off the stage. Later that night the Phantom and Kristine were in their private nook with the singing lessons routine.

"That was wonderful! Again from the top!" The Phantom said. Kristine fell silent and looked away.
"What is it?" He asked concerned. Kristine looked back at the Phantom and spoke low. "I know that you wear a mask because of your deformity, and I'm a costume girl because I'll never be in high society, and, somehow this whole dream we're holding onto isn't going to be a very promising one."

"Just be patient Kristine, our dream will come true." The Phantom reassured her. Kristine just shook her head. "The London Opera is probably where we'll end up, or maybe Vienna. . ." Kristine said with a faraway look in her eyes. "What's on your mind, Kristine? You can tell me, I'm your friend."
"Raghoul stopped by here today and asked me and all the girls to go to the bistro. To sing, you know?"
"Well, this is the opportunity we've been looking for!" the Phantom said with gallant hope. "I really wish you'd let me in on the stunts." Kristine suddenly put in.
"Now, now, Kristine, I can handle Carlotta very well without getting you involved." The Phantom said firmly. "Pfft! Please, you would be fresh out of ideas if it weren't for me helping you out." Kristine retorted. The Phantom looked intensely at Kristine. Finally they sighed and bid each other a goodnight.

That next evening, the company went to the bistro to sing and party. Eventually Kristine's turn came to sing and after Dewit and his underlings heard her singing 'Russia Is A Cold Red Herring' otherwise known as 'The Strawman Song', she managed to land the upcoming part of Marguerite in Faust.

Carlotta had tried to stop any show from going on, and stormed out of the bistro. As the hours drew on Kristine became bored after several dozen beer-drinking songs and one too many Can Can dances. She headed off back to the opera house before anyone could see her. Raghoul had followed her. Stopping her, he asked if she needed a ride back to her place. She spoke with a somewhat dry, matter-of-fact tone telling him that by night she has to return to her coffin and that it's really not a good idea to follow anyone into a graveyard. Kristine managed to sneak back into the opera house while Raghoul slunkered off half drunk and terribly confused.

The Phantom haunted into Kristine's chamber and asked her what had happened at the bistro.
"Well, you see, it's like this. . .I got the lead in Faust." Kristine said.
"Why, that's wonderful news!" The Phantom exclaimed trying to savor the moment. "We certainly have a lot of work ahead of us."

They slinked off into a deeper part of the opera house so that she and the Phantom could rehearse. They wasted no time pouring over the story of Faust and all the words, notes and acting that would need polishing.

While taking a five minute break, Kristine snooped about. She had noticed a whole lot of tiny barrels of TNT. Her eyes sparkled, her heart felt a surge of excitement and a new-found hope. Kristine was definitely cheering up. The Phantom thought he had hid those barrels well enough but the hollowed out Trojan Horse that lay belly up, sprouting with the barrels of TNT was just a little obvious for anyone who would have been brave enough to venture far enough down into the catacombs.

Kristine and the Phantom practiced the libretto, but Kristine kept looking over at the bounty of TNT. After taking another five minute break, Kristine drank some cold water and tossed something over towards the barrels.

"You know I was thinking. . ." She said as she pointed to the barrels. "that we could use these."
"That is not for you to use or even mess around with. Come, back to Act Two and Marguerite with Dame Martha about the riches she's just received!"
"I just need one barrel and I promise, it'll be safe and sound in my chamber!" Kristine said.
"I'll give you anything but, those barrels are dangerous, they aren't to be fooled around with."
"I know about the properties of TNT, I'm not oblivious of the energy produced by an explosion of 25 lbs. of TNT. Or better yet, say, 450 lbs.? Looks about right. Judging from the size of that pile. All I need are just three barrels from this huge collection and I'll sing any opera, on any stage in the world you want!" Kristine said smiling as the Phantom looked at her with confusion, bewilderment and a little bit of admiration.
"I'll think about it, for yours is the voice of an angel and I'd dearly love to see this opera achieve the acclaim it so deserves." The Phantom commented with a warm voice and a look of longing in his eyes.
"Yes, yes. Good good." Kristine agreed. "That's all settled then. I'm so very glad. So when we're finished here, I'll not trouble you any further on the matter and take only the ten barrels of TNT and hide them in my chamber for safe keeping, just in case. I should probably hide them out in my chambers anyway, because nobody ever goes in there."
"Yes." The Phantom said, sighing.

The opening night of Faust was upon them, and Kristine readied herself for the starring role. Carlotta had, of course, plotted against Kristine. A hired man would bump into Kristine on stage at the opportune time and send the whole thing into chaos as Carlotta had planned. Carlotta entered Kristine's dressing room and smiled.

"Darling! There you are, I have brought you a present." Carlotta merrily said as she handed Kristine a very keen pair of roller skates.

"Oh my! These are fabulous!" Kristine then looked suspiciously at Carlotta. "But, what's with the roller skates tonight? Couldn't you have waited until next weekend when the company goes off to Xanadu?"

"Oh no, darling, I brought these for your great performance tonight! The costume you'll be wearing has not been taken up in the hem and you'll need the height, and no one will see the skates as your dress will be much too long for that!" Carlotta's eyes gleamed as she smiled at Kristine.

"Oh, alright, I guess so." Kristine put on the roller skates that Carlotta gave her. After the orchestra began the overture and the cast took their places, Kristine rolled onto the stage behind the curtain and took her place. The curtain went up and everyone began to dance and Faust began proper. Just as Kristine sang the first part of her intro, the man whom Carlotta hired to sabotage the show, came half-waltzing, half-running into Kristine. Naturally, being on roller skates, she rolled across the stage and off behind it into a pulley that held down some two dozen ropes. This caused a chain reaction in which the large chandelier that hung over a good section of the audience, who were pissing themselves laughing, began to shake and eventually fall down.

Amid the chaos, the Phantom who was watching from Box Five, scurried after Kristine and grabbed her, picked her up and carried her into the catacombs, where she would be safe. They were both in a state of shock but Kristine told the Phantom it would be okay to let her stand on her own feet. When the Phantom gently put her down, she rolled all the way down a smoothed-out ramp that spiraled into one of the deeper sections of the catacombs. The Phantom rushed down after her. She half screamed and half laughed as she rolled backwards. Finally she landed in a pile of hay next to a chariot prop. As she lay laughing the Phantom knelt down to see if she was alright. "What a rush!" she said, then fainted.

The Phantom lay Kristine down in a bed that was hidden in a makeshift cottage that was built into the walls of one of the even deeper sections of the catacombs. She slept peacefully as he sang a lullaby to her and removed the cursed roller skates.

The next morning, after the Phantom had watched over Kristine, he was nowhere to be found when she awoke. She sprang up out of bed and went looking for the Trojan Horse. Upon looking around, she spied a portrait of a young woman. Next to it hung upside-down, a severed doll's head with slash marks all over its face and a fork stabbed through its head. Kristine shrugged and figured whoever the woman was, he must have really loved her.

The Phantom loomed behind Kristine as she wandered about. Finally he spoke, startling her. "Holy Catacombs! This batcave is filled with phantoms!" Kristine remarked letting out a cry.
"I am so sorry for startling you, please forgive me." The Phantom's voice smooth and warm, assured Kristine that everything was alright. Kristine blew a swirl of hair away from her face.

"Are you hungry? Let's go on a picnic." He suggested as he grabbed a picnic basket. They were off to some hidden forest that ran off the bottom into an opening that cast some sunlight into a quaint foyeresque wilderness. Kristine and the Phantom ate silently, with solemn expression. He was falling in love with her. She was loving all the tranquil surroundings. But there were still things that needed to be done.

"We gotta rig that TNT." Kristine said finally. "You leave that to me." The Phantom insisted.
"Look we already know our careers are over, no one will ever buy tickets again. The chandelier's a little loose, ya know." Kristine insisted back. Her curiosity of what the Phantom looked like also came to mind.

"May I see your face?" She asked.
"No."
"Why not? Here we go!" Kristine said as she snatched his mask away and looked upon his face. She studied his features and said finally, "You know they have some great skin graphs these days and surgery is almost a same-day process. They've been doing wonderful things with novocaine lately, too."

Then Kristine gently placed his mask back on his face, then snatched it back aside then put it back on, then took it back away from his face again. "Mask, face, mask, face, mask. . ."

The Phantom took his mask and tied it back to his face and head. "You're teasing me." He said. "These masks are made out of newspapers and gloss, very delicate."

Raghoul looked for Kristine all over the opera house in desperation and then found her chamber but she was not there. From far below in the catacombs, Kristine sensed this and began to run up through the darkness. The Phantom grabbed her arm and forced her in a little cage-like structure and locked it. Suddenly things were falling apart and the Phantom needed to gain control of the situation.

"What are you doing, you stupid freak?!" Kristine asked.

"No one who sees my face is allowed to leave here! I thought everybody knew that!" The Phantom blurted out as he ran back up through the stairways that would lead to Kristine's nook.

"Oh GREAT!" Kristine shook the bars and then let go slowly. "Well, I didn't know that." she whispered to herself. "Looking at the Phantom's face equals not leaving the catacombs and other strange and bizarre rules of this stupid opera house!" Kristine snapped at the cage bars.

Raghoul searched for Kristine but the Phantom found him first. They fought. Raghoul managed to get away and hide in a costume closet. The Phantom rushed to Kristine's little nook and uncovered about twenty-nine barrels of TNT under Kristine's bed, some in corners and, some in plain sight posing as little tables with lace and silk over them in an attempt to disguise them from anyone else finding them. Raghoul slipped into a cape and mask and ventured back out to face the Phantom, but he'd thought he'd tell him that he was the police incognito in case he did run into the Phantom.

Kristine had managed to pick the lock and escaped and headed back to her chamber. Then suddenly turning around, headed right for the remainder of TNT barrels in the Trojan Horse. As she rigged some fuses up to them she hurried back through the cottage of the Phantom's abode and quickly dressed in a black cloak and put on one of his masks. Then striking a match she lit a fuse that led to a master fuse she connected to all the barrels. She estimated that she had about ten minutes and forty seconds before the blast.

Meanwhile the Phantom had removed the barrels from Kristine's chamber up to Carlotta's suite and rigged them with fuses, lit them and ran. Again, stealing Kristine's idea.

Kristine was running back up through the opera house, as Raghoul was trying to run out of the opera house, as the Phantom was running away from anyone in the opera house.

Raghoul, Kristine and the Phantom all bumped into one another on the main floor and screamed "The Phantom!" Even the Phantom screamed "The Phantom!"

As they scurried to escape the opera house there came a tremendous explosion and they somehow ended up on the roof. After the smoke and debris settled a bit, they knew they were now on a very weak structure of what was once the Paris Opera House. They all began to laugh and fall back, giving in to whatever fate would befall them. And rumor has it that they can still be heard in the opera house, which was rebuilt, echoing with song, laughter, and tears. And even the more unsettling sound of ticking, like a clock.

THE END

Written: February 23 - March 3, 2004

Based on the 1990 TV Mini Series of The Phantom of the Opera