The Hyperborean Mythos & Worlds Beyond
The Tides of Light and Darkness
(From the Netherworld, to Tangier) Part II of II
The Stone shops, and houses,
buildings and archways, alleys, cobblestone streets of Tangier, the hills and
walls, and the coastal sea next to its city-dwelling, some of the old
structures from the days of the Moors
Dr. Nutt had went back to Tangier in the year 1999, having visited it in
1997 and liking the climate. Previously he had visited Algiers in 1998, when he
had his run with Agaliarept, Henchman from Tartarus, Lord of Five Legions.
Again he was on a tour, vacation from his work at the Los Andes Space Station
high up in the Andes of Peru.
He
parted his group, just inside the Kasbah, to go out on his own, as often he
did. He liked to feel his feet on those
old cobblestone streets. Should you have
stood on the upper wall of one of a two or three story building, you would have
seen a yellow lighthouse overlooking the sea, the plateau streets below the
hills, to the upper part of the city proper.
The Journal Notes of Dr. Nutt:
“The
group I was with came to its end in the Kasbah, the sea was in full view. For
me I ended up hidden somewhat between stone structures only its black
reflection, its shadows and still air came from the faint crack stones in the alleyway
I found myself in, below my feel I heard a buzzing as it the smoothness of the
stones were talking. My friends were looking I presume someplace on the Cliffside of the upper part of the
city, this was my second trip to Tangier, the first one was three years ago, in
1997, it is July 1, of 2000 A.D., now, I’m in my hotel making these notes up
for posterity. Anyhow, as I stood in the alley, I was thinking of looking for a
café, I was hungry for fried fish, but the oil that came from the streets
indicating such a dish was putrid. And
now the buzzing under my feet, with several cracked and misplaced cobblestones,
as if they were being separated on purpose by the discipline of whatever was
pushing against those stones. It brought
back the memory of that diabolic creature I witnessed a few years back, with the
horse head.
“Heat
was swallowing up from the stone buildings on all three sides of me, it was
hard to breathe, the sunlight beating down on me, I was bare headed and felt
sleepy; it was as if I was like walled in next to a furnace, and the earth
cracking open under my feet per near roasting them to hotdogs: like splintering
flaks of fire coming out. What was its
cause? As I looked up under that flood of blistering sunlight, falling from the
sky, the heat was even greater where I stood still without movement. Matter of
fact, it was hard to move, a strange red glare come from the several cracks now,
and the stones were hot as the fires in hell. I could hear small waves lapping
from the sea, my shoes per near as hot as the stones, I moved a little closer
to the shaded area of the buildings, to avoid the heat. I could feel my temples
swelling, then I kicked open a small hump of stone displaced. When I came
nearer to see what was under it, I didn’t think of what might come out of it,
perhaps now thinking it could have been my undoing.
“As I
stood there so stiflingly from the heat, big flies were bussing from the crack,
coming out and settling on the outer-side of the cobblestones as if testing
their wingspan, or winding up for flight, red-eyed flies the size of my thumb,
some larger than the tip of my thumb. It all rather alarmed me. I began to feel
squeamish, and thought of leaving quickly, the buzzing of the flies were
jarring on my ears, but I feared if I moved, they’d attack me. I’ve no idea how
many there were, a 100,000-thousand or more I presume. I called them devil flies, but were they from
that monster who called himself, Lord of Five Legions? From the depts. Of
hades? Or just a nest of huge and ferocious flies from the guts of Tangier’s sewer-system?
“They
swarmed around me, and gave me what I called ironical indifference, gazing hard
at me, like bates, what held my attention was their heads and eyes, I had an
odd impression I was being scrutinized, on a superficial view.”
Now that I think of it sitting here in my hotel
room on the edge of the bed, pen and paper of the account on the pillow next to
me, the so called devil flies provided me with one thing, if anything, besides
being scared half to death, should they attack me with those regretful little
fangs, the humblest of pleasures, life’s past events how, how I loved to laugh,
and take my walks, and visit friends, and have a hamburger, near death does
that you know—you think of the human condition, that you don’t have control
over all you think you have. They could
have taken me by the throat and choked my breathing, made me vomit out the rest
of my life. My one idea, “Get it over with quick.” A phenomenal consciousness
of this will stay with me forever. And
it made me think the irrationality of life is inevitable. We must live in part with the philosophical
notion of the absurd, is alive and yet to be defined, all around us. I wanted to call disease control, but what
for, they’d be gone, and most likely the official’s would come up with
potentially multiple meanings from experience.
They,
the giant flies looked at me dispassionately. This fearful sight was
irrevocable, try as I might, I couldn’t breathe right during that long, forever
long moment, it ordeal, and they left as if they had another mission. But what
I thought at the time was I didn’t have a dogs-chance to run, escape, that it
was a change in a thousand to get away, my heart echoed in my head.
Metaphorically speaking, inside my head a dark wind still is blowing.
.
By and large, we have little to no control over
things, irrationality of life is inevitable.
Here I find flies, giant flies, what does that tell you, and what does
it tell the person I want to tell? It
tells him I live in a world of the absurd.
What does that mean? It has a multiple meaning, we all live in the
sphere of the phenomenal, for each time I come to this part of the world, it is like the underworld
turns its back on its own bay to bother me, and it comes symbolically, it takes
away for a moment, my freedom of being
at ease. Agaliarept, plagued me a few years back, like a
Gestapo, and now the plague-stricken flies. And once again I am bound to
silence. I am better off gazing up and telling my story to the stars and moon.
Should I tell the authorities, or my comrades at the Space Station, of this
unspeakable evil? It’s really not a question, a statement-question at best, but
should I, what would be their point of view? You’d think I’d cause an epidemic
of madness, but no, they would be speculating on my sound of mines, and
detachment at world would follow, criticism, they would say, “It’s a doubtful
case, where are the flies now?” Perhaps they’d say, he’s under stress and has
turned to religion, and things God is sending a plague. The psychologist might say, he has lapses
into unreality, he was dreaming, day dreaming. You see where I’m at?
We
live in an incomprehensible universe, with and little men who try to be
transcendent gods. They are arbitrary
and capricious, so I say nothing, why? Not out of pessimism, although I do
distrust per near everyone around me, not knowing who to trust, but out of fear
to be exiled.
#5060/2-8-2016
