Glowien ~ (Valhalla, ch. 2)
November 16, 2014 § 4 Comments
Over dead and dying men, the Valkyries choose the battle slain. For Odin at the Ragnarok, end of time for gods & men. Heroes laid like battered planks on the bloody road, paving the way to…
– a portion of Ragnor’s Saga, A Viking Poem by Wulfstan Johnson
I stared at the card, trying to hide my shock from Dad & Amana.
I guess it worked.
They just went about their business, as if I never had a seizure before I even got out of bed to get ready for school. I felt both, anger & relief.
It took a few minutes to calm down.
I swung the blankets off and kicked my feet over the edge of the futon mattress.
As the card was placed on the bed-side table, I noticed that my phone was back on it. Daddy must’ve put it there before he left…so glad the screen didn’t crack.
I snatched it in a hurry, opened the text.
I sobbed…a gentle sob – like the one you have when you’re really happy about something, or exhausted – the wistful cries.
Dad & Amana had already left, so I didn’t have to be too quiet about it.
The text said, it was real.
So did the card, and the hand-written note.
Someone was playin’ a fucked-up prank.
The text was sent from a blocked number. Asshole. Apparently, a hacker. Can’t wait for the next season of Mr. Robot.
On instinct, my mind spanned all the possible culprits, but also ruled them out due to the complexity of the joke. This was just way too elaborate for any of my friends to pull off.
I’d never encountered anything in my life that shook my reasoning like this. Nothing made sense. I couldn’t just shluff it off to being a dream anymore. I decided that what I was experiencing had a practical explanation.
This decision produced an interesting cerebral quandary: my sense of reality shifted, so to speak. I knew what everything around me was –
the poster on my wall of The Milky Way,
the suspended model of our Solar-System hanging center-ceiling,
my desk with my laptop, tablet, and iPod (circa ’07),
the bookshelf with my Father-suggested-collection of historic accounts of persons like The Medici Family,
comic-books (DC & Marvel, of course),
documents on masonic-gardening,
the entire catalogue of Francis Bacon – My favorite (which included the Shakespearian writings),
A. E. Waite,
Manly P. Hall,
A. A. Bailey,
H. P. Blavatsky,
The Egyptian Book of The Dead,
and other ancient & modern writings on metaphysical-exo/esoterica & philosophy.
And yet, after skimming that small handful of authors in My library, every item seemed different – like, they weren’t really mine at all.
I remembered having this same sensation in the dream.
Snap out of it. “Breathe, girl,” I said out loud.
I came out of my trance and realized at once that I had to finally get to school.
I lifted one of my arms, giving a quick sniff to see if I smelled appropriate enough to skip a shower.
Figuring I smelled better than 95% ok, I gave my underarms a spot more deodorant, to mask the girly-musk, and commenced to trying to control the morning-hair frizz.
After my pj’s were fought off, I slithered into my favorite black pair of skinny jeans (which I wore yesterday) slid on my Birkenstocks, bra, a blue fitted longsleeve tee, mild foundation, top-lid-only eyeliner, mascara, a brush of periwinkle eyeshadow, and pomegranate-pink lip balm. My brows were already on point.
Amana taught Me that a lady of gorgeous modesty used mild make-up, if any at all. Simplicity was the best vice. And since I had a flawlessly fair skin-tone adjacent to my almost-black hair, the little paint that I applied to My face would stand out. She was right, as usual.
My best-friend, Alaniah, who I mentioned earlier, had a super-cute older brother who always drove her to our school – Keller Academy of Supercompugenics: KAOS.
I texted her and asked if she could pick me up on the way. She was always fashionably late so I knew she hadn’t left yet. We argued for a few minutes about it not being on the way, but back-tracking. I apologized, and told her it was a poor choice of words and that I’d had a very difficult & emotional morning already and that I didn’t need to get in a fight with her about something so trivial. She said sorry as well, admitted how we were both acting like fuckboys, said our “I love yous”, and finished getting ready.
This was all, may I remind you, via texting.
The school day began like a normal 8th grade procession and progressed uneventful until lunch time.
I loved that KAOS was well integrated & diversified – balanced as fuck.
Every school is a colorful garden of personalities, including the fast-growing weeds that try but fail to kill the more fragrant, desirable and beneficial plants.
Upon this thought, I was reminded of The Young Duke of York quoting his Uncle Rivers in King Richard III, saying:
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace,
and since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.
I was walking, tray decked with a beautifully seared salmon and salad (we the students adored KAOS’ partnership with The Oregon Culinary Institute), and as I checked my texts, while turning down an aisle to go sit with Alaniah & Eva, I smacked tray then head first into a girl that was coming from the other direction.
Now, commonly, the amount of force exerted while colliding with someone wouldn’t cause the two people to raze downward, but for some odd reason, this incident did. Our food tumbled to the floor, we and my phone went following…
The immediate glare from the colors of sparkling yellow-gold & blue warping in front of my eyes blinded me. I shielded my head with my arms as if preventing the onslaught of something being thrown at my face.
I was on my back.
I had forgotten where I was and I started yelling. I felt a nauseating fear, a dread so foreign, real, and terrifying that my stomach knotted worse than any pms-cramping. I clinched it and morphed into a foetal position. My fingers clawed at the cafeteria floor, everything was spinning.
I felt an essence crawl through my intestines & vital organs. It was like a snake coiling, uncoiling, and recoiling in my gut, just above the vaginal area, and in my chest. It hurt…like a motherfucker. I thought I was gonna puke until it stopped. So did the screaming.
I was sitting up, still on the floor. I don’t remember moving upright. My mouth closed and I looked around, startled, but calm. There was no one in the lunch room except me.
I was completely abandoned.
…impossible for hundreds of kids to vanish out of a room of that size, that fast.
Psychologically speaking, this was all very jarring, while at the same time, I felt that peace that surpassed all understanding. Something wouldn’t allow me to panic anymore, especially after what I experienced earlier that morning.
While I was standing, I noticed my body felt more stable. A peculiar and, at the same time, comforting energy had flinted inside.
Not knowing why, I started walking toward the nearest exit, which was due-west, perplexed at how empty & silent the environment was. I reached the doors and shoved them open.
The sunlight was brilliant.
It felt like my first time outdoors.
The air, sweet. I could actually taste a sugariness upon my palate.
The grass, shrubs, bushes, trees, the infinite spectrum of color…everything – absolutely radiant.
At that moment, the only thing that mattered was my breathing. It felt miraculous. I’d never had so much fun feeling my breath before. A soft breeze swept over my body. The scent of my hair reached my nostrils. Tea Tree oil. Fantastic. I loved this scent which Daddy introduced me to. He was the best smelling Man on the planet to me. Amana agreed, and so did others…
I’m not certain how long this moment of blissful intoxication went on, but at a particular moment I heard footsteps in the school garden to my left. My hearing was definitely enhanced.
Mindlessly, I looked in the direction of the sound and began to walk – my body was more in control of me, instead of my mind. I went with its flow. I halted in front of the gazebo that was the platform for public speakers that had private engagements in this legendary garden of my school.
I looked up, and there She was.
She, was Valhalla.
And She, is beautiful.
She was dressed in the most elegant and form-fitting black I’d ever seen, but she didn’t look uncomfortable.
The way she carried herself was graceful & strong. Gentle, yet weakless.
She had a voluptuously muscular physique. Not manly muscular: womanly, lean, and curvy.
I surprised myself with the sound of my voice. It was different. Again, not quite like me.
“How is it that I know your name?” I asked, mentally & physically peeved at the discoherency of the question.
“You know a tremendous amount of things that you are not yet conscientiously aware of.”
The way she pronounced conscientiously sounded as though she were aware of a secret that she hadn’t exposed. Her voice to My ears was as silk to the body.
“Speak my name,” Valhalla gently commanded.
“Why?” I retorted.
“A good question!” She resounded. “And a question worth the energy to answer. Most questions humans ask each other are ridiculous, nonsensical, and boring. Be wise to not waste your energy on mindless foolish chatter.”
“Yes madam,” I instinctively replied.
“And manners!? You’re surprising me with every breath. It seems that it’s your time to finally know.”
“Ah, now that you know already. But first things first. Speak my name, so that you may put your energy to the air and convince yourself of your power. Ask no more questions, for the amount of energy you have stored will not allow you to use any more on queries. Now is the time for experience. Speak my name.”
“You. Are. Welcome.” She stated slowly.
“For what? I’m confused.”
“Don’t waste your energy on confusion either. Relax. Everything has already been made apparent to you & your kind.”
“My kind? Start making some fucking sense, please.”
I gradually got louder with every response toward this mysterious & beautiful woman, if that’s what she was. Something was definitely otherworldly about her.
“You are welcome for me using the energy necessary to help you and your kind along this portion of your personal journey. One day soon, You’ll write the book of this experience. The dream you experienced last night, what you experienced this morning, are experiencing now, and will experience, is partially due to my power summoning you.”
“What, you mean, like, you made all this happen so we could talk?”
“In part, but your ability to simplify things is good. Simplicity is a thing that need be acquired. It goes without saying that humans have a tendency to complicate matters.”
“If it goes without saying, then why’d you say it?”
She gave a faint grin, most likely thinking I was a smartass.
“So that you’d realize potential in you that you’ve not admitted. I merely spoke what you thought and already knew for Yourself.”
“And there I was starting to think that you were going to make sense,” I annoyingly chided.
“Youth is most definitely vain. Please, try not to use what little power you have this moment on needless childlike banter. There’re important matters to discuss with you.”
Valhalla was irritating me.
The irritation, however, was not angering. It was more like the irritation I feel when Dad, Amana, or an ex doesn’t give me what I want, but deep inside, if I were to admit it, I liked it when they said no. It gave Me something to challenge. Most people acted like denying someone something meant they cared, or were trying to protect them from some unseen danger – most of which didn’t exist. I’ve always thought that was bullshit. In general, people said no because of one basic primal trait that all humans share: the need to control.
Valhalla had a fundamental-substance that radiated from every pore on her body. She was infectious.
“Tell me why I’m here,” I demanded.
“That’s precisely what you must answer for yourself.”
I sighed. “Will you please just give me a straight answer? This is really aggravating.”
“Why do you seek what is already found? Why does your kind persist on trusting others to their life-questions? Why do you behave as sheep which need shepherding, instead of lions that take what they desire or eagles that soar high & independent?”
She stated this assuredly. Her confidence, alarming. Something within me desired this confidence she exuded. God, She was beautiful. She looked Egyptian. Nothing like a cute American, or even the graceful French & British. She had an ancient & regal beauty, the kind you admire.
The clothing she wore seemed to be custom-fit. I thought the top portion was just long-sleeved until I noticed a flair of, what seemed to be, an elongated tailed trenchcoat or a cloak overlapping a V-neck of some sort. And although everything else was skin tight, it wasn’t nasty-sexy-tight. The black body suit wasn’t superhero shiny or bulky, it was a seamless weave of gorgeous jet-black fabric that emoted energy of the purest kind. I wondered how she got in that thing by herself.
“I think that what you’re saying is beyond me,” I said feigning incredulity.
“And do you know what dwells beyond?” She asked.
“…the fuck? Your questions and the way you talk hurt my brain.”
“That’s due to an improper use of your Mind without ignition of your Will.”
“Yes. Your ability to produce tangible results by effect of your internal power. In other words, seeing through your minds’ eye until it manifests itself physically, or outwardly.”
“And how does that relate to me not understanding your confusing way of speaking?”
“Instead of asking questions to receive an answer that you think you don’t know, try not thinking. Shut off your internal dialogue, your head conversations that you have with yourself. It will be difficult for some time, but you’ll find that everything in life will be less upsetting. In fact, things won’t affect you negatively at all anymore.”
“Once I can stop talking to myself?” I questioned with a hint of arrogance.
“So to speak,” she said coolly.
“…k, this’s been fun, but I really need to go. Lunch is almost over and the next period’s gonna start soon, so…”
“Look around you. Do you see any of your peers?”
“No. And that’s another thing, where’d they all go after I fainted?”
“You didn’t faint.”
“F’course I did. This’s a dream. Kinda like what I had last night, but with different details.”
“This isn’t a dream.”
Cue awkward silence.
“Then,” I waited longer than necessary to continue the question. “What is this?”
“What you’re experiencing is a dream of sorts. It is not a dream like when you sleep at night. Although, it’s similar. This is a dream you’re having as you are still awake. You’re not asleep.”
“Bollocks, that makes no fuckin’ sense.” I said defiantly.
“Concurred. It doesn’t. It’s not suppose to. Rarely do humans allow themselves to witness a Divine event unrelated to Reason. You & all your species have power that most of you will never in your shallow existence realize.”
“Right. Totally encouraging.”
“Your sarcasm is forced. This isn’t the real you. Be yourself.”
I was starting to feel like I was being preached to. And I hated preachers.
“Now it’s really time for me to go.”
It dawned on me that I didn’t know how I got here in the first place, let alone trying to go back to a normal school day. My spawning anger, confusion, and frustration were determining my outbursts.
“I agree,” finalized Valhalla. “It is time for you to go.”
I heard a flutter of silky-velvet and with a quick glance towards Valhalla’s trench-cloak, I noticed that it was infused with what looked like black feathers. At this realization, and while my ears were captivated with the sound of the flutter, Valhalla’s palms, which were gloved with the same black fabric as her coat, like the coat sleeves became the gloves in the same seamless textile of the rest of the cloak, turned outward to face me. It was a swift & minuscule gesture.
While this happened, the earth around me became emblazed with an amber-blue fire that lifted from the ground towards the sky. I’ve never seen a color so rich in texture & brilliance. It wasn’t blinding, it was awesome – and it consumed everything around us.
I saw at once, and almost too late, Valhalla’s eyes. They were glazed-over with the same amber-blue light as the fire. I knew then that whatever power she possessed had initiated this phenomenon with just a mere flick of her wrists.
Terror, along with reverential respect filled my body.
I was blown backward from a surge that was bolstered from the force of the firelight.
As I fell, and landed, I became aware of objects hitting my chest. A bludgeoning thud from a rectangular tray along with multiple cold, wet, and soft objects saturated my tee. The aching sting of my ass was nothing compared to the embarrassment of being a girl with a wet top.
It’s moments like these one feels proud to be in good physical shape, although, it doesn’t make up for the humiliation that comes with a lot of eyes looking at you for being clumsy.
I was back in the cafeteria and I’d just turned down the aisle to go sit with Alaniah when I smacked head-first into a girl that was coming from the other direction. The girl scrambled up quickly. I hadn’t any time to make sense of the discontinuum.
“WATCH WHERE THE FUCK YOU’RE GOING!” she yelled, embarrassed.
Logic had dismissed itself, yet again. Mentally, I was in an uproar fighting for reason.
“We were both not lookin’ at where we were going!” I blasted back. I was dazed & confused. I’m certain the look on my face was telling.
“Fucking bitch!” she retorted.
“Fucking cunt!” I shouted. I won.
It took a few seconds to realize what was happening. She was trying to induce a fight.
I wasn’t gona take any shit from this chick, who just so happened to be the school slut, who was also the schools’ only girl-bully. It must’ve been hard having that reputation, I thought while growing livid at her. It stands to reason why she got into frequent fights.
She ungracefully lunged her arms toward my chest to push me. She connected, but not because I was slow. I let her. You know that urge some of us feel when you just need to get physical with someone? I was having one of those urges. My caged aggression from the days’ confusion and from my encounter with Valhalla needed to be exercised.
Without thinking, and recollecting the episode I just emerged from, I steadied myself after my stumble from Sluts’ push. My lips parted. I stole a slight breath and stepped forward.
On fighter reflexes, Slut, too, took a step while cocking back her right elbow for a punch – a girly punch, saw it from a mile away. Tragic.
I stepped to my left, hooked her extended right at her forearm with the bend of my right elbow. I extended a calm energy into my bicep, squeezed gently but firmly, and followed my momentum around her back while still clasping her forearm.
She yelped in anguish.
I employed my Ki-Aikido training like a boss. I controlled myself enough to know that if I would’ve applied just a little more pressure, I could’ve snapped her bones. I didn’t want to destroy her, just wanted her to suffer a bit. Not much. Just enough for her to know that she can’t dominate everyone. I’ve been wanting this opportunity for a while.
As I spun around to her back, with her arm cinched in my grasp, I placed the part of my left hand between the index and thumb on the back of her neck. With energy, not focused on muscle strength, I shoved her nose to the ground…right in the sweet spot of freshly spilled middle school lunch.
She cried & whimpered.
Consequently, my knees landed in something moist. The movement of the art of making this bitch eat-the-fucking-floor brought my legs closer to the spilt food than I’d wanted. While holding her arm & neck in agonizing steadiness, I was kneeling in séza – the Japanese position of resting your butt on the heels and extending your back straight while in a kneeling position.
I bent in close to her ear.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch me again,” I whispered.
Body insecurity crept in.
In this age of fitted-low-rise pants, a girl can’t help but to be aware that her Vickie’s might be showing.
Amidst the teeny-bopper commotion, I heard the straight-boys & lesie-girls whistle & whoop in approval of the masculine-aggression two girls were displaying, along with the upper-ass-butt-dimple-panty-peep-show I should’ve charged an admission price for.
I released Sluts’ arm with a heave so that she’d feel just how close I’d come to braking it. She made a last whine as I did that.
Her abject humiliation now complete, I got up, more slow than quick to revel in the moment.
Every one just stared at Me. The cafeteria was completely silent. Epic.
A lot of these kids knew My Sister & I trained in dance and the martial arts, but they never saw us demonstrate. That was outlawed outside The Dojo unless my safety was threatened.
This twat wasn’t a threat, though she liked to act like she was. And she needed to be put in her fuckin’ place.
…time to haul ass outta this cafeteria, I thought.
I turned toward the nearest exit.
I reached the doors and shoved them open.
The sunlight was brilliant.
~ author: Hiram Surtyr, illustrator: Ruth Barbee ~
Tagged: Carlos Castaneda, de sapientia veterum, Esoterica, Exoterica, francis bacon, free thinkers, health, Illumination, Interpretation, King Richard III, mental-health, Mythology, Niccolo Machiavelli, Philosophy, Self-Control, Superheroes, The Brain, The Milky Way, theology, Transformation, weeds, Wisdom of The Ancients