Port of Poseidonia: The Gates of Hell
[The Cosmic Lovers] Component One of Two [Chapters 1 straight through 4]
Let us not all believe Atlantis and its demonic forces did not have its secrets, and dark powers, for it categorically did. And this sketch will bring forth, some of them--in the depths of Hell and its boundaries. (Part Vil)
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The vessel went slow it seemed--it appeared as if there was no wind in the air and the water seemed like syrup, thick with the muck of the world, and thus all things went slower than normal. Phrygian sat down patiently in the middle of the vessel, he lost his exuberance for existence, his contagious ways of persuasion; but the eyes of the crew, everybody to contain the oarsman aboard the vessel, became quite jubilant. His love for Ais seemed to occupy him; here he was, going to the pier, to the Gates of Hell, this wasn't for a days vacation, no, it was for eternity, countless days. He had grown somewhat dependent on her, just the opposite of how he used to be. But this time he noticed she froze, did not say: "I'll come with you," even though he wanted to tell her not to, she did it without him saying it. He wanted to be the hero. But now he was no more than a dead lion, with no teeth.
"Got you, didn't think we'd get you did yaw?" said Buer, a plump demonic being, who was one of the main guards of the towers and walls of hell. He slapped him in the head a wee to see if he could annoy him, but the king was not responsive, he was dead to the world, just in some trance.
"You will meet many like you, but you are special, the lost King of Atlantis, they have talked about you for a very long time...!" bellowed Buer again. The king turned about, looked at Buer, he was ugly, fat, with funny big ears, a long nose.
"Shut up, fat man; just take me to my destination!" Buer spit at him, a gob in his face but it was of no consequence to the king, he just turned about, gave it wee concentration if any.
Demonic beings can do many things: such as, transforming themselves into heavier forms than one might think, and Phrygian, was not naturally a ghost, as one might think he was, the closer he got to Hell, the more his form turned into a greater mass, a separate kind of dimension, a mass of matter separate than flesh, more like the water in the river, like syrup. It is the law of the Universe, you become part of the matter of your environment if you want to survive; if you are in space, you become particles of that matter, and space and time is different. If you are on earth, you become physical, or else you have to hide in the dark shadows of earth; and accordingly, if you are in the Gulf, you are a ghost in dark form, by the gates of hell it becomes more so, you become more matter, and substance. It is the way it is.
King in the Boat
What was the king categorically reasoning about in the boat--his mind was categorically in deep thought, could it had been life should had been made more uncomplicated than what he made it out to be? Oh yes, questions to be answered, to be belief out, to be reviewed and analyzed and surmised and perhaps disguised if they produced too much pain.
It might be she [Ais] did not want to go with him, left him just because he did not know how to team with her. She was always wanting to. 'What had she wanted,' he asked himself sitting in the boat, "Well, never mind," he mumbled, "it's too late now...." He kept reasoning of her though, all straight through the voyage.
"Give me the details of what will take place once we get to the gates?" asked Phrygian, to whom was he speaking, no one knew and no one answered, and he did not ask again. The moisture in the air was thick, thick almost like the water, like he was becoming gradually (like Jell-O to the bodily world).
--Then all of a sudden, everybody surprised heard Agaliarept--the Henchman say,
"There isn't much to tell," he listlessly spit up and out of his horse head mouth. He was the one whom he made the High priest so long ago at Hell's request. 'How things change,' he told his second-self. There was an old saying on Atlantis, that: 'All the gems in the world drift back to Atlantis, as does all of Hells, subversive spirits, demons.' He told himself sitting in the boat, 'What else could I have done, demons would be virtually unstoppable if it were not for a few attributes they ordinarily lack.' That is, if he wanted to keep his kingdom. He could had given it up, I suppose, and lived like other human beings. Demons he knew had no reason, love or compassion. It was not part of their nature. The human hero has the light of the sun, and suspect on his side, but now he had only a vanished dawn.
In Atlantis, he was introduced to many demonic forces throughout his region. There was the uncouth Japanese Oni who could ingest vineyards of wine, when he came to visit the king, the king had to have twenty population derive up the grapes and crush them to furnish wine for him while his stay, and he spit out rivers of crap when he laughed; he hopped he'd not meet that disgusting beast down here in Hell. It was a hundred demons who built parts of Atlantis, for the saying is true, 'work like a demon,' they need no rest, but at times they crave passion, and he had to furnish many women for them. Yes, obsessive workaholics they can be. He never told her, but one time he allowed one to enter his bed with him, and enchant his wife, unknowingly to her. Or maybe she knew and said nothing. They were not happy with nothing. Now he was joining their world. But didn't he think somewhere along the line, this day would come. I mean, did he think everybody goes to the other place, paradise? Is that rational thinking? Or do we tell ourselves that so we can do as we please, a not be accountable to conscious, God or man [?]
Now he could see river-rats climbing up the posts on the ship. I guess life was a progression of events to him, leading in separate ways or so he seemed to look at it that way now: phases toward life and love, and a recession from life and love.
Harshly rising to his feet he searched for a way out and no sooner had he stood up, he was shoved back done to his position.
2
Anases Says
A few hours had passed since they, Belphegor and his envoys apprehended Phrygian, he got reasoning as he watched Ais in a comatose stance, staring into the rocky buildings of old Atlantis, he got thinking, talking out loud you might say on their relationship:
'I knew them both, both very well, almost, almost all my life, my existence, I know both Ais and the king (nodding his head as if it was about to fall off his shoulders); With him there was good mixed in with the bad, and with Ais, there was bad mixed in with the good.' He then glanced at Ais again, concluded, they were both worth knowing.
Then he belief about Gywan, the demonic beast that helped subdue the king, he wasn't a bad looking demon, until he opened his mouth, and out came the buckteeth. Actually, compared to Buer, and Belphegor, and Agaliarept, he was categorically pleasant to look at, a pleasant face and body, although he also had that look that said, he could kill a stranger calmly and walk away while birds ravaged his corpse; something like the King, like Phrygian could do.
3
Ais Says
Ais, who lacked on opinions made a good wife for the king, and the King who proved to be adaptable, proved to be a somewhat of a good husband for Ais, although both minds were in separate spheres most of the time. And this was what encircled her brain at the moment. She, Ais was practical and He, the king of Atlantis, was in triumphantly captive in worship.
Now she had time to think: an unconquerable, revulsion seized her, she was conscious, or so she felt conscious, for the very first time, conscious of her disgust in his captivity in reverence to the forsaken world. There would be no more encores for her, this was it.
Her shoulders were beginning to shake now, he was her prodigy, but so was Aon, whom categorically came before him. She had fallen in love with Atlantis before she had fallen in love with the King. And she had fallen into passion with Aon's love making before the King had ever touched her. A silhouette, profile of the king appeared in her mind's eye, and then faded like dust.
4
At the Landing Dock
They were now pulling up at the landing dock, the smell of the thousand demonic beings flowing overhead was paralyzing--liken to a nest of bats swarming, making a black cloud as they escorted the foot steps of Phrygian, as he coughed enigmatically--and undying, save for the fact he couldn't, he was already dead. The nostrils of everybody seemed to grow twofold, even his. As he looked about, he soon realized he'd inherent be a hideous looking beast in time, inherent as hideous as Buer. Then he noticed:
the imps were now descending all about, nearby the landing dock, (in a most peculiar way) they filled the air with a burst of bulky, shifting stench, some remaining suspended in mid air their lush corpse odors lingering: bat-lipped imps, bone-spitting imps, barrenness upon their lips--nostrils huffing like dying sows, unclean light circling within their own gloom; and murk seeping out of their wombs they had saved for this occasion; their breath came thus up from their bowels, to spill, and so it did right on Phrygian, as they flew overhead.
Somewhat isolated in on the boat they learned closer to him mocking and scorning him; yes, the madness of truth and reality that fell upon him was devastating, as, by their putrid stench-spell, manifested scorn, triumphant revenge--call it what you will--it drifted back and forth, inch by inch filling each and every ounce of space nearby his person. Not a perfect stench, just revolting enough to be paralyzing.
"What did you expect?" Boomed a voice, gaunt and ill-willed, even Ephialtes was shaken by the moment.
'Guilt,' he felt guilt; he provoked life, poked fun at it, beyond the point of retreat, as if there would be no price to pay. The smell continued, nondescript, yet it could desiccate a corpse to dust, should it remain suspended in air long enough. Yes, out of the imp's mouths come the worms of hell, the infinite smells, pantheist still.
He stood up to leave the boat, so the enraged pong, its astonishing weariness could seep away from him, out to and into the gulf, out, and out like a slave to the lungs. The imps, who would were laughing the hardest gave off a urine covered mist over h im. Then he disembarked.
Tales of Poseidonia: The Gates of Hell (Part Vii; Chapters 1 thru 4)Visit : Picture frame
