The land of dry tonics


No one bothered the deteriorating skeleton, but the hungry tree it resided in. The passing of time
had overshadowed the age before it and its young builders were now old men, dying or dead.
The steps going up resembled broken bones that inverted outwards where many of them were
missing. A clear sign that they had fallen off and were left to dissolve on the ground. Water could
be heard gently rushing by as we departed from this historic place, onward to the 4th gathering spot.
Up around the bend and away from Eagle's Creek we went, walking gingerly and telling stories
of days long since passed.

We soon reached our place of solace where worries fade. This enclave was surrounded
by a dozen oak trees, one in particular had another tree growing out of it. So isolated were
we on this straightaway path that it truly felt like we were lost in a mighty forest! Cut off from
the rest of the world, I walked that advantageous trail, as if I were sleep walking in a dream while
looking out from the spiritual eyes of my own soul. As I walked dreamily on, I started to think
about the tribes who once lived here. Once our ancestors got a foothold, they managed to roust
the Indians from their own land leaving them with nothing. God I thought, we are so terrified of
another country coming in and doing that to us, but we seemed to have no problem doing it to others.
Why are we so evil? I then wondered if it was not beyond the realm of fiction to actually find the
remains of an old tepee or better still, a dome shaped wigwam that we can hang out and party in!
Good God, how awesome would that be?

As we approached the 4th gathering spot, those thoughts departed and did not return. Here by
the path's entrance was a cast iron horse head mounted to a red pole. The first year we moved
into the new house, the Calloway's put it out for garbage, so I brought it here. I then used a post
hole digger before pouring concrete mix in. Carefully, I drew back while tamping the dirt into place.
No need to add water, I just waited for it to rain. With a sinister face, that stallion looked menacing
and the steel ring in its mouth made him come alive! Be careful I said to Peter, he bites!

As we walked in we saw the magnificent cluster of trees. On this huge American Beech tree was a
giant carving that read in swelled up letters MK L0vEs HT, surrounded by fancy designs. I would
have asked the old lady about this, had I known of it then. The lettering was deformed and blotted
and below the heart was the date 1919. For it to still be here 63 years later it had to be carved pretty
deep, and the assiduous task probably took over a week to complete. What else did one have to do
that was so important in 1919? I am sure that in itself was very. I felt the letters and they were smooth,
like words on paper. In another few years sadly, it will be gone forever.



Back when I first moved here seven years ago, I took a collection of old bottles from my
room and filled this nondescript area with them. 26 bottles in all ranging from 1870 to 1916
still ameliorate the land! All together it reflected the appearance of a fashioned bottle mine
that was truly wonderful to look at and reminisce over.


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"These bottles haven't been touched since you last put them here," said Peter in an off-key voice!
"That is amazing." He then picked up one of the bottles to better examine it. It was pale green
and cloudy in color, but its texture was anything but smooth. Almost as if it was buffed with fine
sandpaper. That was an old bottle I found on the shore while digging. He slowly read the name
aloud before running his fingers along the raised embossing that bore its name, "H. Rummel."
It had a 'blob top' unlike anything sold today and the glass itself was much thicker. Carefully,
he placed it down before reaching for a much smaller bottle. This one was half the width, brown
and square. It read Dr. J Hostetter's stomach bitters. "It's like a little museum out here," said Peter
calmly. "If anybody ever stumbles upon this place, they're either gonna take em or break em."


 
*That is why society has no business in our affairs.                   I spoke aristocratically.*


I then sparked up the doob and we took six hits each! I looked at the tree again, and it appeared to
be changing. Was it moving before my very eyes? Young laughter could almost be heard coming from
deep inside the very tree itself, like those boys were still somehow here! As I looked up into the bough
of branches, I thought to myself how verdant and lovely is this paradise of mine! As faint as a
whisper and as rapid as the wings of a June bug in mid July, did time begin to relax before unwinding
into the past. The writing on that tree seemed to be more pronounced only ten minutes ago.



I soon began to dwell on the people living in Egypt, and endless miles of marijuana growing wild
in the desert sand. As I thought of bronze men cultivating and watering, it wasn't long before I
fell into a dream. From here, I drifted away like a lost airship! One with no wings. A dirigible!

Through the blue sky, I can see houses falling in Egypt. In their place men are building
pyramids for they are impervious to the winds of change. The Great Pyramid Hotel
which now stands before me is as majestic as the Pharaohs who once built it!



I can see there is but one entrance hole cut into the aeneous stone, and so I sluggishly
pull myself across a sea of shifting sand blazing in the midday sun. As I finally reach
the opening and walk through it, I am inside. How comfortable it is now! The way one
would feel turning on an air conditioner during a heat wave with the humidity soaring.
As the room begins to cool down that conflagrant inferno dissipates to become once
again, a habitable sanctuary of bliss. To roll the naked body around on those cool
bed sheets is actually more refreshing than an ice cold glass of water!

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It's almost like love in a way, when you can't get enough of your partner. In those moments of
heated passion tell me you wouldn't do anything to please that person you love. As I continued
my observation, I found this pyramid to be the size of a metropolis! Its base was wider than the
Isle of Staten and the pinnacle of its glory reached higher than anything else that had ever been
constructed by man. The entire structure extended upwards to a height of 60,001 ft. As I walked
ever forward, my eyes like telescopic lenses descried an image to the far wall that I perceived
to be a map, but came up short for it was merely erosion. In an odd kind of way, it looked like
a calico impression of a windstorm emblazoned to the stonewall.



Eventually, I found a walkway chiseled into its polygonal structure. Next to this, inscribed
on the wall read, "Rest-au-rant floor 23" in an ancient form of script. You have got to be
kidding me! I decided to take the wind elevator because I was way too high to trudge
up 23 floors, even if it is only in thought!!!

As I pressed the elevator button, which was a rather large circle approximately half the size
of an overextended human skull, I paused to examine the face within the lighted glass.



It was an animated representation of that freckle faced boy in the famous cartoon series from
the 1950's, "Paloma" created by B. Raines. You remember he was always trying to win her
affections, but would fail miserably because she was the town's beloved damsel, and he was
just a boy. Oops, due to a glitch in time, Jane Ellsworth never met Tom Raines at the checkout
counter in France, and so Bobby is never conceived. Damn, now it's President Breckenridge.
People please stop using the time machine in the main quadrant!!! As the elevator door rolled
open, the giant slab slid gracefully into the wall without making a sound. Wow I thought, not
only is it quiet but efficient as well! Please, said the gentleman inside the elevator, do step in!
"What is your name kind sir, if I might ask?" Murray, pleased to meet your acquaintance!
"Same here old chap!" *I just love saying old chap!!!* As the door closed, I shook hands
with Murray before making my exit. A firm handshake meant the man had character. Had
he extended a fish for me to shake, well then I would have been most displeased.



In a fanciful script above the ingress leading into the rest-au-rant read the following words,
The Egyptian Sands Restaurant. "Why is there only one elevator per floor," I asked
myself quietly? Eases the confusion, said the wine steward in a gruff tone. "How wide is
this restaurant dining area?" It is comparatively larger than most with arranged seating and
adequate accommodations. Without striking a chord that would straighten Haydn's hair,
I must say this area is exactly 30.7 miles from one side. . . (sighs) . . . to the other.

"Man-a-schevitz on ice" I declared loudly, arousing attention from nearby patrons!

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I simply could not get over how enormous it was! I then tried to picture how hot it must be in that
one room box on the 670th floor, and it twisted my brain in a knot! The climb alone would kill you!
Do you really wish to know, asked the wine steward reading my mind again? "By all means," I said!
147 degrees, but it will reach 153 before day's end. If you're thinking about going there, don't.

As I passed under a long arch leading into the dining room area, I gazed at my clothes to find I was
standing in a salt suit! However, as I came out from under this arch and into the rest-au-rant itself,
I was now dressed in a much better outfit! Off to the side of the dessert tray stands two dogs were
rending my garments to shreds! They fight over it, said a waiter. It is salty you know! Loppo the
Maître d' assigned to the Egyptian Sands restaurant on the 23rd floor is most kind. "Would you
be so sweet as to follow me to your table madam?" He speaks with a heavy accent as the women
in front of him blush. "Oh Loppo!" Soon he is back and greets me with a pleasant, "how are you
this fine evening my good sir?" Very pleased to meet your acquaintance, Loppo. Please he says
this way, and I follow in tow. "By the window that is not there?" We all laugh! "If you do not mind;
this lovely lady looks very lonely." No, no, I don't mind at all. As I gazed about the room, I saw jet
black sheets of mirrored charcoal, which seemed to resemble a form of glass adorning the ceiling.
This hardened stone, when reflected with the lighting created the perfect ambiance. Standing directly
across from this exotic woman, I spoke with flair while bowing my head ever so gracefully. Ma-dam,
I said with an air of distinction, but dragged the second syllable to sound like a third rate comic!
She immediately giggled and patted the seat for me take it. Cleverly amused perhaps!



*In the upper echelons of society, I believe I would fare quite well*

As I sank deep into the plush upholstery, I couldn't help but notice that she kept one white glove
on her left hand at all times. I wasn't quite sure if I should mention this to her. What if it was a
terrible burn or a scar or something? As she gently caressed the monogrammed table linen with
her free hand, she asked, "do you like wine?" She spoke as though she were afraid to stain the air.
I love wine, I said, pretending to be someone else. Then you should try 'this one.' Slowly, she pushed
her glass toward me across the gaudy and heavily shellacked stone table. With genteel manners, I took
the glass and brought it to my nose. Ever so gently did I examine its color while taking in its delicate
bouquet. Mildly fragrant with a subtle hint of nuts in the balance. I then took a small sip. This wine
is too watery, I said before sliding the glass back to her.

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She looked at me with these sad puppy eyes before turning shy. "Would you have been so honest
with me if I were someone else?" I pondered the question but it made no sense. She then touched
the wine with her fingertip, and it turned to blood. "What is that supposed to mean? " "I think
you know." Gently, she began rolling her index finger around the rim of the crystal wine glass
which acted as a signal for the violinists to start playing. As the classical sound of violas, violins
and cellos filled the air, I looked away and that upset her. "I'm over here!" "Okay then, why don't
we just take a look at our menus and. . ." "Stop, your ruining everything!" "I'm sorry," I replied
stunned. "So am I," she said flustered and in a tone that could only imply a deep sorrow. With
that she began to remove the white glove from her left hand, finger by finger until it was finally off.
I noticed a silver ring on her finger and moved in closer to see what design it bore. Oh no I thought
as I looked at her, wounded and in shock. I am so sorry she said in that hauntingly familiar voice.
When I saw who was looking back at me, I gasped. "Did you really forget me baby?" she said in
a sad voice that went on to touch my spirit. Just to see those eyes and hear that voice again
blew my heart into a thousand pieces. A voice that was undeniably her own.



Suddenly, the world stopped and everything was sucked back into its shell, which fell to the floor
and cracked open. It was almost as if the earth froze and all life became stock-still. That quiet
deadness of complete nothing and then I was back. Quickly, I felt a rush of emotion leave my spirit
and flow from my eyes and nose. This startled Pete who noticed something was wrong. "You all
right man?" I'm not quite sure what just happened. Excuse me. I hastened away to an area where I
could be alone. It was there I let myself go. Once it started, it had to run its course. I never thought
I would see you today, I said to the wind that rustled gently through the bushes as I wept, unable to
break those fettered chains that bound my heart. Removing her image from my mind was like closing
a door of dreams. Even though the memory brings intense emotional sorrow, you still feel compelled
to embrace it, knowing full well it will utterly destroy you in the end. "Be there in a minute," I yelled
in a deep voice, trying to conceal my anguish by attempting to make it sound normal. Then she
was gone as quickly as she had come to visit me.



Briefly, we sojourned at the comfort of this secluded resting spot before continuing our excursion
into the depths of the unknown. From there we made our ascension through uncharted territory
in a delusional state from the weed.

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Reviews for chapter 16

Raisa Vatrenko  - I never tried drugs before. Is this how you form stories so well?

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PG 79) Turn of the century tree carving still standing

PG 80) Dr. Roback's Stomach bitters - Vintage advertisement

PG 80) Atlas of Wander by Vladimir Kush

PG 80) Call of souls by Ilene Meyer

PG 81) Warthogs by Ilene Meyer

PG 81) Skull with its lyric appendage leaning on a bedside table which
            should have the exact temperature of a cardinal's nest by Salvador Dalí

PG 81) Secret Place by Keith Spangle

PG 82) Nude by Gyuri Lohmuller

PG 83) A Break in Reality by Xetobyte

PG 83) When the memory returns remade by Gyuri Lohmuller