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, ____, ( 17/11/01 anada472 ,
/ \ ,_____ (--|_\_,,_, _ _| _ __________ ,-.______ _,---._ __ _/ \
/ \+------ _| ) | |(_|(_|(_|_ .net------/ )----.-' `./-/ \
/ / ( |__, ( ( ,' `/ /|
\ / "The Winged Thing \ `-" \'\ / |
\ / Across the City of Eyes" `. , \ \ / |
Y-------- ----------/`. ,'-`----Y |
/ by Aura Noir ( ; mEoW!@/| '
i________________________________________________| ,-. ,-'_______/ | /
| | | ( * | /
|____________________ Anada is cat-friendly! __) |__\ `.___________|/
`--' `--'
As he shouts his curses to the sky the moon drips blood sorrow and
spite. The moon curls its crescent pocked form into a black noisy static;
it is no more when the Heavens part and respond with jagged icy nails that
smell of sulfur and burn his curses away, running black with the vengeance
of a thousand eyes, paired and cold. A boiling apocalypse comes and goes
and nothing is forever more remembered except the curse, the hearse, and the
anger that doomed the elements and the alchemy and the spirit. The angels'
pooled tears raped the grain and reaped the sickle cyclical moon. Their
voices: a chorus blaring and blazing tirades of pity and forgiveness. But
no longer did he care.
The cold lost man wandered for twelve times seven years in a land
unknown to him, and all around the paired eyes stared. In wait they lay for
the reckoning timeÖan eternity would suffice if it must. Forever and a day
and longer they would have waited, but the years passed and soon the man
arrived. A city! It was made of eyes. Eyes for bricks and humor, aqueous
and vitreous, for mortar. This place was never the same, for the eyes (all
types -- man and demon eyes, and haunted angel gazes, and even the humor of
a nightmare or two) were always looking, this way and that. The creations
were recreations as quickly and silently as the man could grasp. The man
walked the streets, paved in scabs and ulcers, and looked upon the shadow
that rose before him and was everything behind him.
Soon the eyed edifices fell away like the grey faces of wretched
paper toys, and a small circle of trees stood amid a tangent of vitriol
dusk. Another trodden thing from beneath a steep grave glanced and danced
and was gone. Another and another and then seven times a hundred others
followed and smirked and subsided. The man knew little of this place and
could not guess as to its name. The City of Eyes behind him, and this new
region around, the man sat down. The scurrying things could still be heard
but nothing was visible except the oak and the grave. A grave it was indeed
though no epitaph adorned its face. Only a crack that split it in two and a
solitary carving of a crescendo moon. He heard it, the moon's song, over
the noisy invisible things, and it made the man laugh. The crescent
crescendo filtered the cool air and burned itself into his memory. Through
the pain and ire the eyes appeared once more. Two by two then three by
three then seven by seven the eyes returned, each crying it's own sickled
song.
No more said the man who said no more, as greasy black wings fell
into sight and blinded those eyes. This creature spoke and spoke and never
ceased to speak but never did its wings beat truth. Asking whys and why
nots, the man saw through the travesty of his travails. Bright light poured
in and the moon became all again, washing away the soaring thing in a pool
of blood-red tears. The angels awoke, blind once more. The demons returned
to their demon home. The dark and lying wings lay broken and forgotten with
a pick and spear in the bone. It twitched for ages, a multitude of years
alone and dying, but the man had long since left the place with the oak and
the grave and the eyes. Tomorrow, said the man, tomorrow will dawn and
morning will come. And mourning will come, but it matters not anymore.
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`-.^.-' (c) 2001 Anada e'zine by Aura Noir `-.^.-'
/"\ ________________________________________________________________ /"\
