| Chapter 32 (1974) pt 8
1974
After some time elapsed, Harmony asked me
if I would like to hear a groovy record.
“Sure,” I said, and so she placed an album on the turntable.
Carefully, she powered up the stereo, the amplifier, and the
record player, before allowing the needle to fall into place.
It was high fidelity in its purest form.
The LP was titled, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
by a group strangely named Pink Floyd.
Pink Floyd - The piper at the gates of dawn
That record just set the mood.
“Are they new?” I asked curiously.
“Not really, they've been around for some time now.
Do you remember last summer when The Dark Side
of the Moon came out?”
“The double album with only one record in it?”
“Yup, that's them.”
“Wow, they sound so much better on this album.”
“I am sure a lot of people are going to disagree
with you on that,” she said, giggling with alacrity.
It definitely wasn't ‘love making music’ or ‘music to make love to’
by any stretch of the imagination, but it was certainly music to expand
the human mind under the influence of mind-altering substances.
As Harmony crawled into the plush bedding like a sea nymph, I turned to see
the antique hobnail milk glass lamp expanding like a pufferfish. It was breathing
through its funnel-like neck and was undoubtedly alive. I moved toward Harmony
while she observed me, ever gazing through the portal of her unblemished soul,
where the undulating current of an almost invisible sea seemed to carry us away.
Her caramel eyes, so enchanting, were now evoking a
response from my heart. Remarkably, they were now very
similar to the eyes of a passive doe, agleam with love.
A gentle breeze coursed through my mind, touching the incense.
This allowed Aladdin to escape into the ether of time, but I'm sure he hung around.
I felt he might have remained in the house somewhere because, at one point, during
the orange glow of the evening twilight, I could have sworn I heard him laughing.
Suddenly, there was an omnipresent movement within the bed sheets, where the very
patterns themselves began growing out and into our new reality. A pervasive flaw
that would attempt to characterize the very essence of this developing change.
Everything three-dimensional had become four, where waves of water were rippling
in a calm lucidity of their own interminable creation. The imperceptive faults which
hindered the habitual process of time in its routineness were solely the expansion
of elements unknown to modern science.
It was fun to be part of something magical. To leave your clothes
behind and live as you were born to live. To just be and exist as
Adam and Eve could have done had they not incurred God's wrath.
“What are you thinking about, babe?” I uttered in a gentle tone.
“You really don't want to know,” said Harmony with a wicked smirk.
“But I really do wanna know.”
Using her index finger, she summoned me closer, even though we
were less than a foot apart from each other. Cupping her hands to
my left ear, she whispered as though my parents were standing in
front of the bedroom door with a recording device.
“I'm thinking about opening you with my thumbs like a ripe orange.”
“Really?” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Ab-solutely not,” she bolstered quite loudly while covering her laughter
with her hands and shaking her head awkwardly.
“But could it... How would it...”
“Don't even say it because we're not going there. You asked me what
I was thinking, and I told you... It's not what I was planning to do.”
“But could you just say things to me that you’re feeling inside that
you’d never do to me, but things that maybe I’d want to hear you say?”
“You would moan like a wounded dog as I thrust my two thumbs in and out
of your helpless body. And if you even think for one minute about trying to
pass out on me, I will slap your mouth so hard you might never recover.”
“Oh-oh, I think it might be happening!”
Harmony felt my crotch, and it was like a mound full of jelly.
“The only thing happening is your overactive imagination!” Voiced Harmony
while laughing in a nonsensical manner that could almost be interpreted as deranged.
“Then why do I feel like I’m exploding inside?” I managed to cry out, as my emotions
released themselves from my tongue like words that could alter the very meaning of life.
As my thoughts began to decompose in a void of depravity where my mind
took to wandering, Harmony thrust her tongue in my ear, and my brain melted.
What an incredible sensation. One that gave me goosebumps all
over my body and a strange tickle in my chest. Kind of like when
a moth touches your eyelash and that powder is released from its
wings. It gives you that same strange tickle in your lungs and throat.
What is that anyway?
While her tongue was going crazy in my ear, she would begin doing the unspeakable to me
with her free hand, for I was her eager and willing victim. I gasped and threw my neck back
as Harmony began licking and biting at my throat. Without restraints, I committed my body
unto her because that is the makeup of love. Love is anything that suits your partner's fancy.
Take charge of me, my darling, for you are the only
one who knows how to love me. Forget the world.
*There is now only you and I*
Aside from everything else bestowed upon me, I have her locked in a loving
embrace, forever to adore and cherish. In a room full of inquisitive objects,
ever yearning to understand the nature of man, I peered out at them from the
bed sheets. How splendid indeed, I thought, to be cast in its lovely decorum.
I knew now that Harmony could not live without me.
If I were to fall sick, then she would be at my side nursing
me back to health. If Harmony became jealous, she would
confront me about it, thus imploring me not to leave her.
Now I had gotten my wish.
Never will she abscond away.
Neither with another shall I toil.
Forever will her love for me burn true.
As will mine, my love. As will mine.
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Like a comb, I dragged my hand through her long silky hair until she began
purring like a small kitten. Harmony laid her head down in my lap, where I
casually stroked every part of her adoring face. Working my way down her
neckline, I encircled her areola with my finger, where she began to moan.
Only then did I become aware of how flawlessly symmetrical both breasts were.
So lovely and picture-perfect were they, I had no other choice but to glide
my tongue around those darkened circles and exercise my lips on her
protruding nipples, which were now firm.
I continued in this manner until the A-side ended.
“It's amazing,” I said, “how wonderful it feels to be crazy.”
“Why do you think they're always smiling?” said Harmony grinning.
She then rose to her feet and flipped the record over to side B.
“I'll be right back,” she said in a glowing tone while happily displaying
the finger she was about to wash. That lusty finger that had danced
inside me moments earlier. As I watched her leave the room, the wind
could be heard howling outside the bedroom window.
The rain had stopped.
And even though she was in a distant room somewhere in the house,
I could still visualize that pink palm of hers, erotically swaying by
her side as she exited.
All she needed now was the power of Venus
and a wedding corsage to make it all complete.
Closing my eyes, I let her plunder me again in thought. Such lavish dreams were
the lining of the subconscious that opened a magnificent door. It was the part of
the shell that made the roaring of the waves come alive. The side of the magnet
that causes opposites to attract. An unexplained phenomenon that merges
repressed thoughts with living matter to create its own illusive world.
That was the power of the disturbing mushroom.
So vile to look at, but oh so incredible to see.
All logic had vanished, leaving two dreamers adrift on a magical sea.
One that had pulled them far from land and one that was becoming
rough and choppy. My mind was steadily becoming tangled up in blue,
where the simpleness of love would be transformed into an utterly
bizarre complexity.
A vexation whose inner structure was constantly changing
with every breath the wind took.
When Harmony returned from the bathroom, she crept in without closing
the canopy drapes. Looking out from eyes no longer my own, I carefully
glazed over her dusky skin, which in a sense, was enough to color my
world with details so rich in contrast that it almost seemed to titillate
my senses. There I began to caress her belly with my free hand.
“Tell me you love me,” she said, as a child would have; so shy.
I-love-you - - - (Touching her lips)
I-love-you - - - (Kissing her thigh)
I-love-you - - - (Licking her navel)
I needed the mouth of life to please me.
It was an insatiable craving that was
not going away, so I asked her if I may.
“Please do, but first, I have a surprise for you,”
she said while trying to control her passion.
As she wriggled out of her black undergarment and pulled it
down past her knees, I saw an area entirely devoid of hair.
It was so soft, so silky smooth. I touched it, and it felt like
a baby’s cheek. So soothing to the touch; it allured me.
“Wow,” I said, “no stragglers.”
“My body is your body. My lips, yours. Love-me,” she
said, almost hesitantly, as if we were about to perform
some heinous act or commit a mortal sin together.
I disregarded the abstract, and inappropriate way it sounded,
for everything in this place seemed to be getting weirder. Her
mother's picture at the far end of the nightstand had changed
too. Though not in the physical sense, considering she didn't
fall out of the picture frame and land on the floor like a ninja.
But to know she was giggling impulsively and trying
not to smile at me. . . Now that was psychological.
As I cast my eyes upon Harmony's guitar, that was gathering dust in
the corner and looked like it hadn't been played in years, I couldn't
help but sigh, for I remembered the very first time she played it for
me. The year I fell in love, and had been in love ever since. And
even though time was going by incredibly fast, it was a good thing.
As the room began to evolve,
the guitar changed without any distinction whatsoever.
It was now priceless, and I could not seem to take my eyes off it.
I thought about touching it, but in no way could I bring myself to
disturb that ever-tranquil coating of dust painted by time upon it.
Remembering a Beatles song that came out a few years ago,
I truly wondered if George Harrison wrote that song in this place.
“While my guitar gently weeps.”
I couldn't understand it before, but I certainly do now.
It was a psychedelic song taken from a psychedelic place where illusions
grow like flowers. Yes, he, too, will one day follow Aladdin like a whispering
wind up and into the kingdom of the great beyond. In this place of lunacy.
This place of delight and inspiration, even the very makeup of our genetic
codes, had been seemingly altered to fit the bill.
The Beatles - While my guitar gently weeps
Harmony was hypnotized where she lay, and when I fell into the allurement
of her eyes, she appeared to be conducting an orchestra there. . .
And I was the only person in the audience.
Turning to close the overhanging coverings offered me a sense of privacy.
A feeling of security I needed to fulfill the task at hand.
I kissed her lips gently before gliding my tongue down her neck and around
her dark nipple. From there, I inched down slowly to the beautiful creation of
her exquisite flower. The scent of which always lingered in my mind, making
me crave her when we were apart. My fingers, ever so gently caressing her
sensuous black petals, made me play with the folds of her love. Turning those
fleshy pages would reveal unto me an elegant wall, the color of fuchsia.
I was addicted to the smell of it.
I was enthralled by the taste of it.
There was nothing on earth I wanted more than Harmony, and if I never saw
her naked again, I would find contentment just to be at her side forevermore.
*I loved her that much*
Releasing my hands, the book of life gently closed.
Using the tip of my tongue to map out and find her sweet spot, I
formed a suction with my lips and began to rhythmically extract
and release. This action caused her love to overflow.
I was listening to the strange and surreal lyrics of “The Gnome”
as it played with an occasional pop in the background. However,
when this album ended, I just seemed to stop.
“I, if umm. . .”
“Come on,” she said, “get it out.”
Sounding a bit flustered that I stopped.
“Could we hear more music?”
“Sure,” said Harmony as she hastily parted the canopy drapes
and placed another plate of plastic on the spinning wheel.
Pg 223
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The album was called “Forever Changes” by a band artfully titled Love.
To my dismay, I soon found the majority of the songs were just too seedy.
As if the entire house was slowly becoming a public thoroughfare, and that
was rather unsettling. In actuality, the songs are really quite lovely. Perhaps
it was the instruments that brought about a feeling in me that everything
wasn't as safe as I thought, and maybe I should consider other options. There
was just something very odd about it that I couldn't quite seem to place.
As the music continued to play, I felt as though we were outside,
intimately relaxing on a bed in the confines of a bad neighborhood.
As I looked up to reaffirm my surroundings, it felt like some invisible
barrier was missing, and people were just strolling through. I didn't
actually see anyone, and I wasn't really sure I would. It was simply
a spiritual manifestation brought on by the music.
This music, I thought, should only be played outdoors.
In no way did I feel like I was being chaperoned by an adult
on this journey. We were two equal partners in love, exploring
the vast region of time and space within a simple setting.
In my brain, I was older than time itself
but younger than my own paradoxical emotions.
Sitting inside this earthly shell, I was now a guest to both mind and being.
Feeling loved and having been loved should never be brought into question
because that is what the estate of life is all about. It is what God intended.
It is not about playing games in the schoolyard or how many trading
cards you can collect. Sure, that would be a large slice of the pie had
Harmony never entered into the equation, but for now, it was about
striving for maturity and learning about real life in the present tense.
On this particular journey, I knew nothing of what
was to happen nor nothing of what was to be.
Everything we touched and everything we saw was comprised of its own unique
DNA molecules, which made it noticeably different. To know an ordinary kitchen
chair was wondering if it was still comfortable enough for people to sit on or
beginning to grasp the fact that the living room table, in reality, was a much
better dancer than Fred Astaire could literally blow someone's mind.
In a bizarre kind of way, I really appreciated the whole aspect of
what Harmony was trying to show me. However, when it came
down to brass tacks, the more I understood, the less I knew.
House of Nimrod - Slightly-Delic
“Congratulations,” said Harmony with enlarged pupils,
“you're officially a hippie now.”
“You mean yippie, right?”
“I said, hippie. Yippies are just kids pretending to be adults.”
As my face grew into a smile,
I could almost see the new day ahead in its glory.
“How does it feel to be the last hippie in America?” asked Harmony,
like a news commentator. I then flashed her the peace sign, while
attempting to convey an expression of wistful humility.
“Wanna get back into the groove of things?” she chortled
cunningly while insinuating intent through motive.
“I do,” I said, enthralled to the engines.
Indeed, I had become quite a connoisseur of love in those gentle hours that
comprised the day and evening of my incredible existence. Inevitably, it would
give meaning unto yet another solitary phrase I was forced to compose from where
I lay in the crosshairs of time and space; after the trigger had been depressed.
In that terrible place of undeniable suffering and agonizing woes.
I love you unimaginably.
Beyond that of words, beyond that of reason.
You are the very air of my season.
And when the eve brings solace soon
to my tear-stained eyes in my lonely room
where I sit and stare like an anxious groom,
you will know how much I love you.
Because no one in their mind could know
when their life begins; where their story goes.
And neither are we to understand
what the harbinger of fate has planned.
As I gazed at this angel lying before me, I could clearly see where the
extensions of her wings had gone on to evolve into graceful arms. As she
sprawled across the covers with her legs apart, I stared at it. Through the
dimly lit room, it appeared to be almost alive, and I knew within my very
spirit that it was longing to be kissed - touched - played with - loved.
This I did with pleasure, and my lover once again began moaning
and writhing on the bed sheets. I drove my little tongue in and
around her swollen pudenda, and she could not get enough of it.
How abundant is your love that I may dance and sing?
So serene in stature, my love lies, waiting. As pretty as
a painting you pose for me. More flexible than a cobra,
you wind your arms around me until our fingers interlock
in a loving and inseparable bond.
So charismatic, you watch in ecstasy as I maneuver around
the perimeter of your loving orifice, trying desperately to
please you, that I may never lose your affection.
Separated, we are nothing, but together. . .
Together we are perfect.
All the time I experimented with drugs in my teenage years trying to find
myself, I never realized, that it was you, my love, my heart was searching
for. It is not easy living when the only person who truly loves you is at the
other end of a viaduct, and you cannot reach her. Time becomes cynical
and everyone around you a threat, for they now hold the key to each
other's heart. I am only happy I was able to make her smile.
In the end, I would wake up one morning to find I had been buried alive.
As you read on, you may come to realize that you, yourself,
are, in fact, being judged as I speak. Ignore it, for it will pass.
In life, there are always two paths to choose from.
The path of right and wrong. Good and bad. Love and hate.
Sometimes the uncharted path with no arrow is the path we
are predestined to walk. Always remember, for every step taken
on life’s long journey, there is one we do not come back from.
(((This is my final warning)))
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Like a butterfly to a flower, I rolled my tongue around in her sweet labia.
Just getting my nectar for the day and pleasing the flower. Where the scent of
spring emanates from acrid darkness, and the moment of truth becomes flesh.
In and about her, I jaunted, making my stay there a pleasant one.
Freezing the hands of time so that I may always go back and please her.
Eternity would not be enough time for me to fill the compendium of my longing
heart by satisfying hers. The road to her love was mine forever, and even though
I'd been lost, I was becoming even more lost in the treasures of joy I found early.
Delectably, I savored each moment as though I were in a sweet and savory honeycomb
crafted by God. All for the one who has chosen to love me. All for the one I have chosen
to love, honor, and adore. My every move was actuated by an intense longing to serve
her, while I alone made sure I did not spend too long of a time apart from her joy spot.
That delicate nerve center where the heart of pleasure flows. Always give her more to
look forward to while continually striving to maintain a perfect balance between worlds.
As I lovingly ascended in thought toward a celestial body of stars, I remained fastened
to my perch. Harmony praised me with words of love as I tenderly washed over her
perineum, making sure not to stray too far from home in the process. I then returned
to suckle on the tiny hooded spout, which was merely a formation of flesh that had
settled from purest water but was now the center of all life. . . My shiny pink pearl.
She screamed and began to clutch onto the bed sheets, thrusting her body upwards.
Then with an eager thumb, I hooked into Harmony's dark region while my tongue
created a state of amatory bliss for us to dissolve in. An intensity of erotic lewdness
washed her inner torso clean while our minds bathed in the sweet resolve of such
palatial bacchanalia.
After what seemed like the world's longest French kiss,
Harmony was begging me to stop. I now had to feel for
the lower half of my jaw because it genuinely felt as
though it were no longer there.
“How long can you do that?” she asked
proudly. As if I had just won an award.
“Maybe an hour? I love the taste of you.”
As she put her hand under my oily chin to raise it,
she said, “you're never, ever getting away from me.”
I then used the length of my left arm to remove those heavenly secretions
from my lips before crawling over to where she was lying and kissing her
mouth as if it were the warm orifice of her love. She then guided me into
her tender canal, where I found myself ensconced in the warmth of her
gentle body. Within minutes, I released my passion, and love concluded.
After which, we went downstairs and had fun examining everything.
As I turned to look at the banister, I saw the spindles slowly turning.
Wow, I said to myself, they should sell these mushrooms at the circus.
Nirvana - Trapeze
I then followed my lover into the parlor before suddenly realizing how
magnificent the elaborately fringed lambrequin was. There was an overly
fancy pier table between the window and the door, that had weird claw
like feet. Poor thing, I thought, never gets to sleep. Next to the fireplace
sat a fat Marquise chair that depicted an eighteenth-century scene.
This was surrounded by colorful orange and forest green flowers.
Everything she enjoyed, I enjoyed. Antiques, collectibles, curios,
and the like. One day, I will give unto her all her heart requires.
As I continued to survey the room with big frog-like eyes,
listening to the seraphic words of an angel only an impulse
away, I began to feel ever so distant. Almost like I was fading
away into the margins of obscurity, and even though she was
right beside me, through the hazy mist, I felt so lost.
Like I had fallen in love with a beautiful hologram
that was slowly beginning to vanish.
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Since I wasn't holding onto her hand, our connection had been severed.
The connection that made us inseparable. For some weird reason, I
was unable to do anything but listen to her speak.
Maybe Harmony doesn't know she lost me, or have I lost her?
Why was I so terrified of losing her? Terrified that these inanimate objects, which
had now been given life from the great beyond, would not approve of me touching
her and seek to rid me of their world by cleverly portraying their malevolence.
Then I'd have nowhere to go cause they're outside too.
It would be a very risky move on my part, and I was not going to chance it.
Davy Jones and the Lower Third - You've got a habit of leaving
I must say, the doldrums of mediocrity hadn't a chance
in the land of wishing wells and mythical things.
Even the bushes and trees outside were laced with imagination, which had poured out onto
the grass. Within the unexplored forest that lies hidden deep within the confines of one’s own
impalpable thoughts, a strange new world was growing. A world that defied explanation.
Man, this stuff was everywhere and on everything. It was even on my arms and legs,
like strange tattoos that began to crop up on the skin's surface without any indication
or warning. At least they were playful and happy, and I was just bewildered, to put it mildly.
As I began the act of opening and closing my fist, Harmony asked me if I was okay.
“Um-hum,” I replied, “I'm just looking at things under my skin.”
*A bad sign*
“Are they on this too?” she asked nervously, while showing me her outstretched palm.
Looking at all the exquisite lines and markings, any worries I had about things
growing under my skin vanished; the way you'd forget a grey hair once it's plucked.
As my hand interlocked with hers, that spectral graffiti in its uncompromising form ebbed
away. Standing beside Harmony like a handsome groom, I was once again fearless.
Calmly, I watched as our veins interconnected beneath the skin to become one joining.
We were now one flesh.
One unique being that was graciously adapting to its new world.
As I began to absorb the imagery of this room, I saw a dated urn on the shelf atop
the fireplace. The ashes of a loved one. I cannot believe I actually felt like climbing
up there and opening it, but thought something might come flying out and bite me.
There were three paintings hanging on the wall.
One, in particular, caught my attention.
A cute little girl from another time dressed in Victorian-era clothing and holding a
lovable puppy. The painting was notably old. So old it had a craquelure texture to it.
She smiled sweetly for me like she would be there at the wedding. I then wondered
if a renowned artist had painted it. She seemed happy watching me, and I was content
in knowing I had made a connection with someone who existed before the Civil War.
I could see the puppy was getting restless and had she put him down
and walked back into the painting, I believe I would have only sighed.
Adjacent to the fireplace along the wall sat an antique leather trim steamer trunk that
Harmony used to store her winter blankets in. Next to this and alongside the left wall
stood a sturdy vitrine with only half the amount of knick-knacks in it. About ten feet
away from that stood a Baroque escritoire. This odd-looking redundancy appeared to
be enjoying the festivities, for he was tap dancing silently and in a chattering manner.
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As I looked over at a pair of gilt bronze ewers that stood at each end of the pier table,
I noticed each one was facing a different direction. I loved the way she decorated a room.
Everything in such perfect order as if each thing was somehow trying to present itself to me.
The way the candelabra sat atop the mantelpiece or the gentle way the bellows had been hung
made me think of how wonderful she was. Even something so simple as the log resting in the
andiron through the fireplace ensemble now appeared precious to me. Just then, Harmony
began to walk into the living room, and since we couldn’t be separated, I followed.
“Look at it now,” she said, pointing in amazement
at the seventeenth-century French-carved cupboard.
As we approached this aberrant creature,
this surrealistic nightmare of epic proportions,
I told Harmony to stop.
That we should not go any further.
“Don't worry, we're old friends,” she said, giggling.
“You're safe.”
As we were almost upon it, I contemplated this extraneous and
enlarged living box. Dazzled was I, yes, but more so, there was
something within me telling me to proceed with extreme caution.
There were naked women around its borders fondling themselves. Cherubs in scrolls wanting
to speak. Mad screaming faces of baboon like humans who were, in fact, Indian chiefs who ate
too much pudding. There was the face of a young boy exploding out of a sunflower and, finally,
two young men with flaccid organs carrying a basket of treats to the king. Without warning,
I catch her attempting to stroke one of the figures. She was stroking it. What the...
They're getting hard.
My mouth dropped open leaving my jaw to hang,
for there was now no way of closing it.
I moved back with an unsteady gait and nearly faltered.
Just when I thought our love was a veritable triumph, I found myself having to contend
with a disproportionate imbalance in time. The disparities of symmetry that, if conveyed
first-hand in science class, could actually teach the whole school about molecular structure.
For some odd reason, my brain now felt like it was mainly composed
of a series of unstable elements, and had I fallen to the floor, I honestly
believe I would have discharged on impact and disintegrated. That is
how worthless I felt, yet I could do nothing but stand there. . .
My mouth like a gaping hole.
I could not believe Harmony would make me watch as she satisfied these mutant
beasts with her irresistibly warm fingers. As I began stewing in my own distemperance,
I had a very lucid moment of clarity. Have I gone mad that I could be puzzled by a
piece of ingracious furniture? I then heard or thought I heard the Baroque escritoire
rollicking about in the next room. I'm not sure what he was doing, but I did envision
those drawers of his pumping in and out like a quiet accordion in its passive feast.
At some point, I really thought he was going to come
galloping in and rescue me from this madness.
What am I worried about?
Are they not pieces of wood
carved and affixed as an adornment?
They can see, and they can think.
They can hear, but can't voice an opinion.
They enjoy being touched and can even produce an erection. . .
Now I'm really upset.
Alas, they are certainly (((not))) mere pieces-of-wood.
Pieces of wood do not lick their lips. Pieces of wood do not yawn.
On the other hand, they cannot simulate living matter as to run
across a hillside. Neither can they form true expression unless it
is a feature in their initial design. Since they do not possess any
habits or mannerisms, there is nothing to worry about. Either way,
it would not stop me from feeling the way I was feeling inside.
Just the way she was touching it. The way ‘it’ was enjoying her touch
made me insanely jealous. I could not watch this spectacle any longer
and had to turn away. At this point, I was almost about to sever hands.
The Relics - Inside outside
I could not believe she had insinuated herself into their retreat. It was
just so baffling to me. Oh, she knew I was jealous, all right. The way she
was smirking as I teetered there, like a busted ventriloquist dummy.
Why did it even matter?
Were they going to come crawling out of the woodwork
and invite themselves to my party?
It's my party, you wooden bastards!
The Impac - Too far out
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As I studied this necromantic absurdity. This menagerie of horrors, which
by rights should have been burned during the Middle Ages, I noticed that
the whole structure of the outside housing was resting firmly on the backs
of four tiny dogs with lion faces and big bulbous feet.
“Come,” she said to me and used her thumb to close my jaw.
“Thanks,” I said as I took a step forward.
At this moment, I could plainly see all my worrying was in vain, for each
one of them was now acting as if they were either drunk, poisoned or dying.
Such is the price one must pay to become greater than himself.
As we left to enter another room, I felt a bit sad that I had to watch them
die like that. Sometimes life can be unpredictable and unfair, but life is
never without its reasons. Everything that happens, happens for a reason,
and there is nothing you can do about it except change the course you're
on, if you find in your heart it's all wrong.
As I poured out my sentiment to her in a way that only a child could have,
she got down on both knees while sitting comfortably on the inner portion
of her thighs. Trying to release her grip, she found I would not let go.
Looking up at me as though I were a soldier going off to war,
Harmony spoke in the voice of a devoted wife. Ever so gently,
she clasped her left hand onto mine.
“When I look at you, I can see past that closed door. The door to a wonderful future
together. A door that is still closed. I know you will do right by me, and for this reason
alone, I will not trade you for the world. I love you more than my own heart beating.
Every beat is yours, and you're growing so fast. I know you will do what is right,
my love, and I will take such good care of you, Charlie. I promise.”
I was so touched by the display of affection that I fell into those
beautiful brown eyes of hers and got lost. I wanted to stay there
forever and live in them. Then she kissed me on my forehead.
Abba - I've been waiting for you
There was nothing evil or wrong with what we were doing.
It was the purest form of love, and this I will never deny.
Oh, my darling, had it not been for you, the mysteries of this world
I could never have known, and love may have been nothing special.
I am sure you would not scorn me for exposing our love unto them.
*The children of the world*
For you once said to me, “if my life were a book, then
you'd be the words,” because I had given you so much
for someone so young and so sweet. Remember my love?
And one day, the whole world was going to see us and marvel
at our love. We came so close, baby. . . We came so close.
Pg 228
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Toward the middle of this strange trip, I began to feel worried.
This had progressed to a feeling of paranoia. There was something in
the air causing me dismay. A great affliction to my spirit that would
leave me feeling helpless. Standing within a shell of dreams, I could
only imagine things getting worse. There was no resolve at this level.
I was fading away.
My mind was in a state of confusion as evolution cast an umbrage
of despair over mankind. A wave of terror so pronounced; I could
almost see its personage beginning to take shape by the cellar stairs.
Like an apparition ready to consume my very soul, I stood there paralyzed
and trembling, for the door to that evil place was opened, and I couldn’t close
it because I was only a boy. In a sinister fashion, the darkness was coming.
It was going to devour me in untold ways, and I could not stop it.
“Harmony, I’m scared.”
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“It’s coming. . .”
“What’s coming?”
“The darkness.”
I didn't know if I should sit, stand, speak, shout, or scream.
Part of me wanted to run and run fast, but there was nowhere to go.
With imagination on the rise and a chemical imbalance replacing any
form of normalcy, I was either going to die or I was going to become
insane. Either way I looked at it, there would be no returning.
In absolute horror, I pointed to the cellar stairs.
“You have to close that door.”
“Come with me.”
“No,” I replied loudly, in a state of total shock.
“I trusted your judgment once, remember?”
“Yes.”
“Now, you’re going to have to trust mine.”
Ever so slowly, I proceeded to walk until we approached the kitchen. I knew it was going
to snare me and rend me to shreds, so I severed hands. There was no blood, and there
was no pain, yet there were torn wires of red and blue dangling out into an ethereal haze.
Wires I could see weren’t real. I was learning the art of the game and had I played it on a
regular basis, I’m pretty sure I would have understood what it was like to become a deity.
Only I didn’t want to be a shaman, or a sorcerer, or a god.
I only wanted what I was feeling inside for the woman I was enamored to.
“I love you, Harmony,” I said in a defeated voice that almost appeared
to be quivering, “but whatever happens, don’t come into the kitchen.”
If I could have cried, I would have, but I was too frightened to cry.
And so, I walked like I was walking on a very thin sheet
of aluminum foil without trying to make a sound.
As I was within arm’s reach of the handle, I saw them downstairs swirling
about in the darkness. The monsters who live under my bed. The creatures
who reside in my closet and they saw me. “Please,” I said to the apparitions
who conspire in dark shadows, turning every child's room into a hellish
place of utter torment, “take me if you must, but let Harmony be.”
The swirling stopped. They heard me.
I spoke inside my head, and they heard me.
This was a step above horrific.
An astonishingly intense nightmare
that occurred while one was fully awake.
The dark forces that have been conjured from the
wickedness of man’s evil deeds have slowly given rise
to the nocturnal orphans who bathe in their own enmity.
As I reached for the handle, I assumed the end was near, so I reached slowly.
I knew if I reacted fast, they would react even faster, so I gave them a chance to
spare me. I wasn’t about to bolt for the thin cordlike fabric hanging down from
the old-fashioned light pull switch because if I missed it, not only would I be
signing my own death warrant, but I would be signing Harmony’s as well.
No, this had to be done their way.
As I gently closed that heavy wooden door to a world I could never begin to
fathom, I came to the realization that the monsters in the shadows were, in fact,
my friends, and they were about as misunderstood by us as we were of them.
Pg 229
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I then felt a surge of emotion flooding my senses, but I could not keep it at bay.
Immediately, I rushed over to Harmony and embraced her; my emotions now
exposed in the light. “Do you know what you just did?” asked Harmony, as
proud as a peacock. “You gave your life for me.” And I would not let go.
Instead, I allowed the warm liquid to spill from my eyes as I clutched onto Harmony.
Like a statue carved from Michelangelo’s hand, we could not be separated.
As I released my arms, I realized the nightmare was still unfolding.
Sitting down on the couch, I would find the process of time had already started to
change me. I was becoming old. Old and decrepit, but I was so young. How was
this happening? I was now older than Harmony’s grandfather, and he was dead.
I touched my face and could feel it. The fragility of the elderly.
I now new what it felt like to be ancient. I couldn’t stand. My legs
would crumble, I was sure of that, but I had to. I just couldn’t.
“Harmony, do you still love me?”
“Of course, I still love you, baby. Why would you ask me that?”
“Because I’m old. I can’t even close my hands; I’m so old.”
I really thought that if I closed my hands, my dusty fingers, which had
become frail and withered, would crack and fall off. In truth, I felt like
a two-thousand-year-old mummy, wrapped in bandages quite friable
and skin covered in cobwebs that had already begun to turn black.
If there were insects crawling around within my skeletal mass, it didn’t
even matter because there was nothing there but an empty shell of a man.
“Baby, you’re not old. It is merely the man inside of you
stepping forth from the boy. Do not fight him; he is my lover.”
Harmony reassured me by saying, “It's all right;
the most important thing to do now is relax.”
“I can’t relax, I replied in an agitated tone. “I don’t remember how.”
She then repositioned her blouse and put my hand on her breast.
So that's how we do it, I thought, feeling elated. Amazed as the
weight of the world was gently lifted from my oppressed spirit.
Like playing Russian roulette with the forces of nature,
I took a clandestine approach to learn what could only
be taught from an introspective standpoint.
I snickered wryly, for the grim reaper who had high hopes of
collecting his bounty, would now have to leave empty-handed.
I wasn't decaying because I could still feel.
I wasn't old because my voice still sounded the same.
It was either a trick from the Devil or a test from God,
and I had to be mature enough to figure it out.
Right before my very eyes, I could feel the life being restored to my aged limbs
as youthful vigor returned to revitalize my entire being. In awe, I watched the
darkness being absorbed into Harmony. The magnificent light burning within
her had canceled out the darkness. I removed my hand to find everything was
quite normal. How good it felt to be young again, I thought to myself quietly.
For the next hour or so, we went meandering through the abode, prattling to
one another about the inspiring wonders that had been bestowed unto us and
so forth as we explored the basement, the attic, and a spare room upstairs.
Upon our return to the living room, I stepped into the kitchen to get a glass
of water. Pulling the glass from the cabinet, it slipped from my hand and fell
to the floor, shattering. I simply froze. Harmony came rushing in and told me
not to move. Putting on her slippers, she swept the glass into a small pile.
From there, she used a dustpan to dispose of the broken shards of glass.
“Don’t dwell upon it,” she said. “Things break.” But that wasn’t it.
I remember dropping a glass when I was three years old. In my mind,
the glass just kept exploding, and I saw myself for what I was.
I was just a kid.
A flashback in my brain to an earlier time which was only yesterday.
It is beginning to cause me real concern. The helpless child is still helpless,
and the room was getting angry. If a woman has to constantly clean up after
you, then you are still a little boy. A little boy who never really gets older.
I could now feel myself getting younger.
I was getting younger and couldn’t stop.
At this rate, I’m going to be a blossoming fetus on the couch in less than
the span of an hour. My parents will then come to learn what it is me and
Harmony have been doing together in our quiet time. They will learn about
the mushrooms, and they may yearn to seek retribution by sending her to
jail. Whereas I will be powerless to stop them.
How will I even be able to communicate my emotions,
should I awaken in the mental state of a toddler?
I was regressing back in time.
Pg 230
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My brain was unraveling.
The snake had become knotted.
A head full of hair was now growing in reverse.
In other words,
I was getting tangled up in the madness.
My skull felt abnormally weird like my brain was beginning
to divide, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect next.
I thought of my dilemma and could not lay it to rest. Though the
more I dwelt upon it, the more unresolved it became until I panicked,
and the whole night was in danger of turning into an apocalypse.
How absurd was the fact that through all this, I honestly believed I had the
mind of a fully-grown adult? An adult who stood firm in curiously piecing
together the puzzle known as life. But now, if I could only stop shrinking.
The last thing I wanted to do was become a developing
infant, but it was happening to me, and I could not stop it.
In a very strange and disturbing kind of way, I could begin to see
my veins pumping blood to all the organs, for my skin had become
translucent. And had I been born with an uncanny ability to draw,
I may have produced a rather impressive anatomy chart.
I had absolutely no idea what was going on at this point. The persistence
of echoing voices was like a woodpecker jabbering away in my head, and
the turmoil was becoming even more absurd. They wanted to know more
than I was letting on, and gradually I was losing the part of myself I needed
to coexist in a world of logic. Gazing at my arm hanging down, there were
no longer balloon like veins swollen and pronounced. They have diminished
from fear and were now removed. Anxiety was causing my heart to race. It
was in this hour, that I pleaded unto Harmony to save me.
“I really need you to help me because I can't do this anymore.”
She held my little hand in hers
and spoke in the voice of a whisper.
“To be a man, you must first be an embryo.”
I then said, “I feel like an embryo man.”
*Harmony laughed*
“You can't be both silly.
You have to choose one, and that is what you will become.
Do you choose to be an embryo, or do you choose to be a man?”
“I choose to be a man.”
“Then, my little prince, my man you shall be.”
Harmony put a hand on my forehead and another upon my heart when I began
to feel an immense power. Similar to the rays of the sun was this overwhelming
feeling of flowing heat penetrating the very layers of my conscious being.
Blowing away the evil fortress that had been erected on fear and lies
and turning all man-made instability into simplistic children's rhymes.
Within minutes, I began to feel a complete turnaround.
The black hole, which was about to consume my very body, mind, and
soul, would now have to find another universe to swallow. It disappeared
inside the darkness of its own configuration, allowing me the dignity of
continuing to be with the only person I ever truly loved.
Yes, the spell had been broken and instantly reversed.
I was getting older again. Older and taller still.
“You did it,” I proclaimed unfettered. “You saved me.”
“Did you think I was just going to leave you like that?”
“No but. . .”
“Shhhhhhh, don't speak; just hold me.”
Maywood - I believe in love
Pg 231
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I will never forget that wonderful weekend. Thank you, baby.
Indeed, she was the essence of kindness in a totally loving way.
A princess in an age of madness, and I was the prince who was
once a frog. I then thought, how can God love me this much?
To give me so much, it just didn't add up. It was the finest gift
anyone in this solar system could ever have given me. I loved
her more now than I ever did before, and I needed her to such
a degree it would become crippling. If I went without seeing her
for a day or two, I would begin to exhibit symptoms that were like
painful withdrawals, accompanied by feelings of shock, delusion,
terror, helplessness, and of being unequivocally lost. As time went
on, these feelings would only intensify in nature. The longer I
went without seeing her, the worse they became.
Woe unto you who do not believe in nightmares,
for I tell you they are real.
Less than a week went by before I found my writing style had
become more profound and more fluent. I went from writing like
a fifth grader to writing like a tenth grader almost overnight.
I came to the conclusion that it had to be the mushrooms.
What else could it be, I thought?
I would later come to realize the unfathomable.
Every gift that is acquired from an unknown source
comes with something more attached to it.
But that wasn’t the scary part.
It was a Thursday, December 12th. I went to visit Harmony
and unlocked the side door. There were still groceries at the
bottom of the landing, so I carried them into the kitchen
and put them away. Harmony hadn't been feeling well for the
past month or so, and this was no flu. Rapidly, she had lost
her beautiful complexion, and as I entered, I could now see her
struggling to get up from the couch, but I couldn't tell for sure.
“Is everything alright, babe?” I asked, feeling overly concerned.
“Why wouldn't it be?” she said.
I then saw the jar on the counter; she must have been trying
to open earlier. I turned it with all my might, and it opened up.
“You're getting weak,” I said foolishly.
(((((((She smiled in that sad way)))))))
“You're getting stronger and I'm getting weaker,” she said.
“You don't look so good,” I responded, now realizing
her face was becoming gaunt. Her body... Emaciated.
“I feel even worse,” she said, trying to produce a smile.
“Are you sure you're okay?”
Harmony nodded while looking down at the floor, and I
didn't like that feeling I was getting in the pit of my stomach.
I then reminded her of something she had told me when we first met.
That we could only be friends if we were completely honest
with one another. She then began to sob uncontrollably.
“Please don't cry,” I begged as I rubbed her arm in a slow circular
motion. When I asked why she was crying, she simply put her index
finger on my lips and looked deeply into my eyes.
“Love me,” she said through her tears, and I did.
Only this time, it felt wrong.
As if it were no longer Harmony I was making love to.
All the while, I could not shake the feeling that I was somehow
hurting her, so I tried to be as gentle as possible by positioning
the weight of my body upon my forearms.
“Don't forget me little prince,” I heard her say faintly
under her breath as we made the heavens glow through
the passionate love we created together.
That was the last time I ever saw her.
During my teenage years, I wrote many songs.
This is a song I wrote in my hour of utter despair.
I needed her to hear it, and I believe that somewhere in
the realm where time ceases, my words graced her ears.
Neha, oh, Neha
when you smile my mind runs wild.
Will I ever grow tired of seeing you?
Oh no, I don’t think so.
We need nobody,
there’s just you and me.
To care for each other,
that’s the way it should be.
To live in contentment
apart from all the world.
Like Adam and Eve
before it all got spoiled.
Neha, oh, Neha
Thou art wise, so pure and kind.
May the fragrance you produce be the scent of spring.
So, whisper low and I’ll hold you close.
Oh, my dearest love, such intimacy we share.
One day perhaps, a child of ours you’ll bare.
“Do you miss you’re your family,
Acquaintances and friends?”
I ask her with a smile,
“Some of them I can’t forget.”
I’ll tell you nothing matters
just as long as you are near.
And I’ll always be faithful to you;
so never fear.
Neha, oh, Neha
I’ll abide with you through hard times.
For the essence of my being is just pleasing you.
As life unfolds, we shall grow old.
Pg 232
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This review was posted on May/11/23
LR
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This review was posted on Jun/14/23
alits29's review
AL
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This review was posted on Aug/20/23 (Evening)
Reviewed by rupalrao
RR
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This review was posted on Aug/23/23
Reviewed by labia_1903
LA
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This review was posted on Oct/7/23
Reviewed by pazkou
PZ
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This review was posted on Dec/10/23
Reviewed by sampriktaada813
SP
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This review was posted on Dec/19/23
Reviewed by hinaspatel
HP
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This review was posted on Feb/18/24
LL
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This review was posted on Mar/21/24
Tayyaba17's review
The Embryo Man: Chapter 32.8 - The Embryo Man
Reader's Report by Tayyaba
T
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This review was posted on Apr/20/23
Reviewed by mariya
MR
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Saleha Zainab - June 5 - Chapter 32 (Pt 8)
SZ
The passage has an erratic pace, swinging rapidly between different scenes and
emotions. While this reflects the protagonist's unstable mental state, it can make it
challenging for readers to follow the narrative. Its strengths lie in its vivid imagery
and deep emotional resonance, improvements in structure, consistency, and clarity
could enhance its readability and impact. The relationship between the protagonist
and Harmony serves as the emotional core of the narrative, providing a poignant
counterpoint to the protagonist's surreal and turbulent experiences.
Finally, readers get to know why a young adult is addicted to drugs. Charles wants the
same sense of freedom and pleasure which he experienced with Harmony and is not able
to find in his life when she leaves. This chapter feels like diving into a vivid dream or an
intense psychedelic trip, capturing the roller coaster of emotions that come with deep love,
fear, and a profound connection to both a partner and a whimsical, animated world.
The writing pulls the reader into the emotions, starting with the warmth and devotion
of love, then spiraling into paranoia and fear. It blurs the lines between what's real
and what's imagined, bringing inanimate objects to life and reflecting the protagonist's
unraveling mental state. The way it shifts from passionate love to creeping fear creates
a gripping, immersive experience that draws you in completely.
Is Harmony terminally ill??
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This review was posted on Jun/17/24
Reviewed by sababaloch292
SB
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This review was posted on Aug/21/24
Reviewed by sarah1409
SR
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This review was posted on Sep/15/24
Reviewed by adeeba
AD
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This review was posted on Oct/14/24
Reviewed by poesiha
PE
TiT
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PG 222) Mood by Fattah Hallah Abdel - http://tinyurl.com/kg5lq44
PG 222) Baldachin by Jacek Yerka - http://www.yerkaland.com/
PG 222) Cloud lovers by Mark Henson - http://markhensonart.com/
PG 222) Paradise lost by Jaroslaw Jasnikowski - http://tinyurl.com/mvoea8j
PG 222) The summoning of the muse by A. Andrew Gonzales - http://tinyurl.com/o9p2awq
PG 222) Triple heart by Scott Scheidly - http://www.flounderart.com/
PG 222) Clock by Alex Yat - http://tinyurl.com/khkexav
PG 222) Henna hands
PG 223) Nursing by Alex Grey - http://tinyurl.com/c3p439v
PG 223) Amazon by Karoly Bera - http://tinyurl.com/p994msv
PG 223) The great masturbator by Salvador Dalí - http://www.virtualdali.com/
PG 223) Flamenco by Luis Miguel Rodríguez - http://www.arteluismiguel.com/
PG 223) Breath of life by Jana Vodesil-Baruffi - http://tinyurl.com/k7wdvwp
PG 224) Forever Changes by Love - http://tinyurl.com/6ovkfx
PG 224) Departure to the market by Michael Hutter - http://tinyurl.com/qznz4bs
PG 224) Beauty School by soad2k - http://tinyurl.com/psdcs9d
PG 224) Peace Fingers by Shepard Fairey - http://www.obeygiant.com/
PG 224) Infinity by Viktors Kravcuks - http://tinyurl.com/lyc5o94
PG 225) Mouth of flower by Octavio Ocampo - http://tinyurl.com/m4gs4j
PG 225) The pages of time by Shiori Matsumoto - http://tinyurl.com/ol7pxro
PG 225) Onirix, I'm your sun by Massimiliano Squatrito - http://tinyurl.com/qz3b4hh
PG 225) Medal of emotion by Lipták László - http://tinyurl.com/mpf6c88
PG 226) Checkmate by Vernon Treweeke - http://tinyurl.com/osfhyet
PG 226) To our time together by Vladimir Kush - http://vladimirkush.com/
PG 226) Risk by Joe Scorsone and Alice Drueding - http://tinyurl.com/lavecy7
PG 226) Bible Dam by Jacek Yerka - http://www.yerkaland.com/
PG 226) Tree love by Tomasz Alen Kopera - http://alenkopera.com/
PG 226) Walnut of Eden by Vladimir Kush - http://vladimirkush.com/
PG 227) Opening the Heart Chakra by J. Slattum - http://www.jslattum.com/
PG 227) Escape from the burning city by Chris Down - http://tinyurl.com/m9fsrcf
PG 227) Silence by Judson Huss - http://tinyurl.com/kn32xb5
PG 227) Symbiosis by Fuco Ueda - http://tinyurl.com/molg57j
PG 227) Friendship by Katherine Blackwell - http://tinyurl.com/lx7tkor
PG 228) Native American pin up by Zahira Kelly - http://tinyurl.com/ng2cke9
PG 229) In Cupid's shadow by Nathan Spoor - http://www.nathanspoor.com/
PG 230) Birth of the new man by Salvador Dalí - http://www.virtualdali.com/
PG 230) A sign of life by Jo Joosten - http://tinyurl.com/l69v55v
PG 231) The world of you by David Ho - http://www.davidho.com/
PG 231) All heart by Brandt Botes - http://tinyurl.com/nawbd52
PG 231) Core by Adnrey - http://tinyurl.com/2q5qhy
PG 231) The escape by Steve Hidook - http://tinyurl.com/or7hn7n
PG 231) Ocean of Love Bliss by Alex Grey - http://tinyurl.com/c3p439v
PG 232) The Albino's knife by Alessandro Fantini - http://tinyurl.com/alessoft
PG 232) Thalestris by Gordon Napier - http://tinyurl.com/o4nbhop
PG 232) After Battle by Zoltan Boros & Gabor Szikszai - http://boros-szikszai.com/
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