Sunday, November 14, 2010

Like a Russian Circus

Saturday, November 29, 2008
at 5:56 PM

Looks like the Russian Circus have left the Building!

Isn't it dead in here? A little glowing spirit asked me, or was that me? The details of the body that my Dream Soul occupied were muddled like a mosaic face of a victim on a newspaper. I couldn't tell who or what I was, a John Doe or a Jane Dee walking in a tunnel of moist and pumping red walls, which in my conviction, seemed to be the interior of a giant's esophagus.

"It's not the matter of it being empty or not," I muttered with disgust at the sticky goo on my hand and wiped it on my pants.

"It's the matter of us being where!"

I turned to face the little glowing spirit. Somehow, I knew who she was but I couldn't exactly make sense of it. The temptation to ask for her identity was so strong and yet constrained that the expression, if there were any, on my face was sculpted to a wrinkle of bewilderment.

Does it really matter who I am? She asked me with her eyes. She didn't have any lips to speak with; pale and white, aglow with bits of complementary colors of orange and blue, the little glowing spirit reminded me of the adult glow worms that could only live for a day to mate with other adult glow worms. They have no mouth with which to feed and only live long enough to lay their eggs; reproduction being their main contribution to the community of glowing insects that illuminate the caves in the tropics of New Zealand.

She giggled. I'm not a glow worm! Her huge silver eyes twinkled in the light of her being and with them, I fell madly in love.

I shook my head. I was surprised at myself. NO!!!! What am I thinking! It's a kid! No wait!!! It's a girl spirit!!! No wait!!! I'm a --- guy?

She laughed and I stared at her, mystified.

You're funny! Silly, silly, __________!!! She called my name and ran off ahead. I was dazed for a split second and ogled.

"Wait!!! What did you just call me??" I cried after her in the hollow tunnel.

Hurry!!! Come! Her voice echoed in my mind.

"I didn't hear you!!! Say my name again!" I yelled as I stepped forward to follow her, but she was gone and I ran. I kept running ... but I never reached the end.


Personal Analysis of the Dream:

The Russian Circus used to have weird looking people in them, like those bizarre bearded woman, the mermaid girl, the giant, etc. The girl looked like one of those circus freaks but ... slightly more intriguing and possibly more beautiful than any human being.

Dream Soul is my soul wandering the world of the Dreaming. On this I want to expand as it concerns the Australian Aborigines' belief, which they visually interpret in colorful dotted art.

Giant's esophagus: There are those who believe that we all exist in the body of God ... I just played around with the idea.

Of Identity: When we die, we leave our body on earth and our soul goes somewhere else which means gender and age is not applicable to the spirit world. The only thing that matter is our soul and the name of that soul. The question is, is the name of our soul the same as the name that is attached to our body?

The Plague

It bit her three times: one on her forehead, one on her clavicle and one on her left shoulder. The bites hardened as they burned and glowed green at each scratch of her hand and the skin, shed by her sharp long nails, fluttered like flakes of dusts around her. The strange mutations in the fluid injected into the hosts' body, morphed these little flakes into insects and they, in turn, bit every cell on her epidermis, her internal organs and her bone marrow. In just a few seconds, the body of a young woman standing on a symbol of obliteration, disintegrated into these black, microscopic bugs.

The Fear

and my brows creased at the bridge over my nose as I opened my eyes: It’s so hot! The words formed in my mind. Congested, my feet kicked off the blankets. I turned to lie on my back looking out through the screen between the layers of curtains on the window.

It was pitched black outside, save for the dim lights of orange hue that stood flickering by the gates to the garage. I turned to my side, my weight upon my left shoulder, to read my alarm clock. It read, 2:30 a.m. Oh, for goodness sake! I moaned, letting out a small whisper that neither an ant could hear. I lay back once again with a slump, staring at the ceiling, blue with the hue of night, scowling. If only I could turn on the air-conditioner! I whined, but the air-conditioner is under-repair and cannot be used until a week later.

As I lay on my bed waiting to fall asleep once again, a strange story developed:

Lying there in the dark, a figure of soot, no taller than a foot, invades my room; punching through the window screen like a comet, screeching in a silence that violently vibrates my ear drums. I scream as I sit up at the top of my bed, my knees meeting my chin in panic. It fell by the door and crawled up to me. As my arm stretches out to turn on the lamp light, my eyes staring at the figure at the foot of my bed, I heard myself shouting in my subconscious,


I blinked, my heart thumping. No! No! NO! Stop! I begged myself, covering my face. Stop it!!! Sleep! I scolded myself over and over again as I whined of the unbearable heat. It was boiling hot. Then, that sound-- very unlike that of the usual lizards that passes by my room from outside the walls of the house, it cried out. The dogs outside begins to growl.

It’s coming.

The rate of my heart beat began to increase. What’s coming? I asked myself.

It’s coming.

The dogs barked and I heard the sounds of their plates turn over as they nervously paced back and forth, helplessly watching whatever it is that grabbed their attention.

It’s coming! Close your window.

The voice in my mind, warned. The heat of the room grew intense. Ah ha! It’s nothing! I tried to convince myself as I reached down for my blankets. I covered my body, eyes widening in the dark.

It’s coming closer, close your window!

The warning tone voiced out again. No! Nothing is coming closer! I fought my mind, but the strange creature cried out once again, chilling the very core of my bones.

It’s coming!


Our dogs outside barked.


The voice screamed. I rose and slammed my windows shut.


And I lay back with my blanket over me, hugging my knees, waiting.


Waiting in the dark, the heat mellowed and the room cooled down.

Is it gone?

No answer.

I lay down waiting, waiting.


no answer.

And I fell back to sleep.

Written October 2008

Saturday, December 20, 2008

The Tale of Askel and Aesa

The Tale of Askel and Aesa

A Work In Progress
He was slowly hopping to a pool of water after falling from a high branch when he began to wonder, why on earth couldn’t he walk. Have I broken a limb? He asked himself, but, he couldn’t have, otherwise he would have limped or be dragging his mangled body on the ground like a leper too ill to move. He stretched his neck to get a better look at his reflection and cawed at the bird that stared back at him. I cawed! He cawed again. He raised his arms and saw a pair of black wings. Examining it from the tip of the feathers to the shoulder blaze, he realized that they were his own.
"I’m a crow!!" He yelped, falling back on his tail, his bird cries echoing in the town houses at the foot of a high mountain. It was early in the morning and the black birds have just migrated from the north, to the south for the winter. A large crow, sitting up on a tree, swooped down and chuckled.
“Hey there, mate!” he greeted, “That was a foul fall, there. ‘You all right?” he asked him.
“I fell!” the little lean crow whispered at the large one. The large crow bobbed his head in agreement.
“Yep! That branch you’ve been sitting on was wick, I’ll bet.” He laughed. The little crow remembered falling but not from a branch, but from a tower, in a tall castle of Estonia.
He shook his head.
“I’m not a crow!” he revoked, half to himself and half to the large crow in front of him. He glared at the talking bird, a monster that could possibly be a figment of his imagination or a trick cast by that blundering cheat, the Illusionist.
“Be gone Illusion! I will not be tricked by some fraudulent majick!” the little bird cried, with a furious wave of his left wing. The large crow hopped a few paces back and frowned at the small one. He let out a sigh and sympathetically glanced at the little crow, “Take a look at your reflection again, buddy! You’re probably still dazed!” The little bird examined his feathered chest, clearly negating all the evidence that points to the truth.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” He moaned, plucking out his feathers, “this can’t be happening! I am NOT a bird! I refuse to believe it!” he hollered, curling into a ball. "It's a dream! It's a dream! It's a dream, it's gotta be!" he whimpered.
The big black bird eyed him warily and chortled.
“Mate, that’s one bad amnesia you’ve got there!” He said, skipping towards the little one with open wings.
“Don’t you worry!” he tried to console him, “Until you do recover, I’ll be here to help you out.” He smiled broadly with one wing over his newfound friend.
“But I don’t have amnesia!” insist the little one, pushing away the friendly offer, as he sat up. “And it’s Askel Fridtjof, you fool!” He corrected the bird, “Brigaadikindral of Estonian Military! Personal Guardian of Princess Aesa!” The little bird gasped.
“Princess!!” His pupils dilated at the thought of the one most precious to his heart; his feathers around his neck, stood tense with nervousness. He grabbed the large crow by the collar and shook him.
“Where am I? Where is she? Why am I this body?”
“What?” the large crow gaped.
"And who are YOU!" the little bird pulled the big crow to his face, his eyes wild with vexation. The big crow stood gawking in silence.
“I was there,” the little bird despaired, “I was fighting him and then something hit me and I flew out the castle window!” The little crow was attracting the attention of other crows in the vicinity. One by one, they moved closer to the scene, assuming that a fight have broken out and watched as the two raved on.
“Mate,” the large crow gulped.
“I need to find the princess! I must save her!!” the little one was romping mad. The large crow stared at his bewildered friend and began to weep loudly.
“Wahhhhh!!! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ugh! Bwa ha ha ha ha!” The little crow released him with contempt.
“Stop it! Stop that! Why are you crying?” he scolded. The large crow sniffed and wiped its beak with its wing.
“Oh you poor, poor, little scrawny swagger!” he pitied Askel. “I understand! You forgot who you are and now you’re all insane; that belief of you as a soldier,” he added, “with a princess must be from a book you've read in a trash mound and you got it all mixed up, thinking that you’re really that soldier in the story.”
“What?” Askel didn’t appreciate the marginal note, “I AM that --”
“Well, if you insist that you are Askel, then you are … for now.” The large crow impeded and continued, “I’m Gab.” He smiled. He took one of Askel’s wings and shook it as a mark of their friendship.
Askel was lost for words. He was fast thinking to himself how he, a human in a body of a bird, could convince this hulking idiot that he isn’t a bird. Time is running out. He must find the princess and return her to safety, but, how could he explain when he could clearly speak and understand crow language, which is not even in Finnish or Swede?
Gab was still talking to Askel when he cut him off, “You’re right,” Askel feigned defeat, “I must be suffering from amnesia, got mixed up with some fantasy stories that I must have read sometime ago in a trash bin.” Gab bobbed his head, smiling proudly.
“And since I’ve my memories either lost or mixed up, could you tell me where I am?” Askel asked him. “Well, Askel of Estonia,” Gab teased, “You are in the heart of a remote village town, in a state called Alabama!” Gab grinned and nudge Askel jokingly, “’bet you don’t know where that is! Ha ha ha ha!”
Askel forced a smile.
Faithful to his Belief
Days passed and Askel was constantly fainting from malnutrition. He couldn’t bring himself to eat those nasty wriggling worms that Gab loves so much; savoring them as he slurped them from off the earth. The barbaric sight disgusted Askel that anything that Gab ate, looked repugnant to him; not even those bitter looking berries that grew on the outskirts of the town could enter his beak. All he took was water.
Gab was starting to worry. Not only was Askel becoming weaker, he was going crazier than ever before. Unlike most crows whose main interests are of shiny objects like the jewelries on the dresser drawer of the human female, Askel was hankering for maps. He wasn't even threatened by the presence of a human. A few days ago, passing by an open patio on their way to a muddy ground for breakfast, Askel carelessly entered a wide living room of a retired Sailor and examined a map of the world, framed on the wall.
It took Gab his best feather to help Askel out of the Sailor’s house, alive and unharmed.
“You really should just leave him to die,” suggested a fellow crow, “He’s asking for it.”
“Yeah, Gab!” chimed another.
“Why stick to that weirdo? You could get yourself killed with him dragging you into trouble!”
“It’s enough that we, as individuals, have troubles under our wings!” muttered a mother crow. It was the Roosting: the gathering of a community of crows every Sunday, after rummaging through the wastes left by humans on the streets. Concerned with Gab’s well being, the other members of the crow community were assertive that Askel should be marked an outcast.
“I’ll try to at least get him to eat properly,” Gab conceded, “It wouldn’t be right if I leave him like that after being such a buddy to him.” And the meeting dispersed.
Back in the nest, where Askel lived with Gab, Askel was softly humming a nostalgic tune, Appelbo Ganglat. He missed the touch of the wood and strings of his old fiddle, handed down to him by his great grandparent. He stood upright and mimicked the performing pose without the instrument. He imagined his index finger on the grip, the other finger placed at equal distances from each other on the same edge, with his pinky on the lower part of the bow; the fiddle resting on his left shoulder as he pinned it down with his chin. With the scroll pointing straight out to the horizon, he played as he hummed.
“Da, da, da da da dum dum da~~,” He stood up and saw himself in his blue vest, khaki pants and long sleeves, playing the old tunes of Estonia despite the dizziness he felt.
“Da da da da da dum dum da ri da ri rum~~,” And he saw his beloved Aesa dancing to the tune on a sunny day, on the fields of Kassari. And there were laughter and promised words shouted out loud over a noise one might call, happiness.
“I can dance like this forever, Askel!” Aesa smiled as she twirled around in her colorful striped dress, her golden hair shining in the light of the midsummer sky. Askel laughed with her.
“And for you, I will forever play!” He answered as he strummed the strings with his bow. How he loved to hear his name in her voice.
“Askel!” The sweet bell-like tone of her voice that lures him to sleep.
“Aaaaskeeeel!” Again! Askel begged as he played the silent melody on an invisible fiddle. He was almost over the edges of the nest, when Gab arrived and pushed him back down like a hawk on a mouse.
“ASKEL!” He yelled. He’d been yelling at Askel, who was close to walking out of the nest and falling yet again on the pavement. It would have been fatal with the condition that he was in: pale and feeble.
“Gab.” Askel choked and sat up, leaning against the prickly walls that forms the shallow brim of the flat nest. Gab sighed. He hung his head and glanced at his grisly friend. He spat out a few morsel of worms from his mouth and pushed them towards Askel.
“Eat.” He commanded. Askel refused, shaking his head like a stubborn little chick.
“Askel, if you don’t eat, you will die!” Gab explained.
“I’m not a bird!” Askel shouted at Gab, his eyes focused on the wet, sticky slime, laid before him. Gab leaned back to take a deep breath.
“Yes, you aren’t a bird!” Gab squawked. “You are a soldier on a mission! And soldiers will eat ANYTHING to survive and carry on their mission! Am I correct?” Askel’s eyes widened. He remained silent.
“What is your mission, soldier?” Gab asked him. Askel hid his face in his wings but Gab bent down to him and interrogated him.
“I’ll ask you again, what’s your mission, SOLDIER?” Askel winced at the last word.
“To save the Princess,” he mumbled.
“I CAN'T HEAR YOU SOLDIER!” Gab shouted with an air of a General. It was too much for Askel to bear, the embarrassment he felt over his own weaknesses; his stubbornness and pride were the very things that kept him from reaching his goals and he cried, tears flowing from his dark set eyes.
“I, Askel Fridtjof am sworn TO SAVE THE PRINCESS!!!” Askel sniveled aloud, like a siren that lead to the panic of the birds in the tree and they flew away in a frenzy, cawing. When they realized it was a false alarm, the flustered birds returned to their nests.
Gab smiled and placed a wing on Askel’s head. “Eat. Gather your strengths and you will find your princess.” Askel wiped his tears.
“Could I,” he timidly asked, “Might I have the privacy to eat?” Gab chuckled.
“You may.” He flew away and rested on a tree not far from the nest. He spied on Askel; watched him grimace as he forced the food down his throat and Gab giggled till he almost fell from the tree.
Whispers of the Wind
The wind whispered in his ears, She’s here. Askel lifted up his wings and hovered in the air, looking for a body that does not exist. He checked his peripheral, listening intensively, hoping to catch another message in the sky.
Aesa. The name formed in his mind. The air was still, the wind was silent and Askel remained hovering, slowly falling down by the earth’s gravity. Bu-bump, bu-bump, his heart began to beat fast and he knew that Aesa was somewhere close by.
Find her. The wind returned and whispered to him. Without a second thought, Askel was gliding again using the rate of his heartbeat as his guide: if his heart beats fast, he’s on the right track. If it paced to normalcy, he’d have lost her.
Bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bump. His heart was quickening its pace and he was filled with excitement. At last! At a long last, we will meet again, Princess! He rejoiced. He had yearned for that moment for as long as he’d been a bird, but a question popped in his head.
What if she’s human?
It had never crossed his mind and for a split second, Askel was dumbfounded, flying with ambivalence.
What if she’s human? How could he explain to her that he’s Askel? Would she recognize him? Would she even look the same as before? In the days that Askel was gaining back his health, he’d found a great storage of old books that documented wars and victories he’d never heard of before; of the length of time that he’d leaped, from the year 1220 to 1995; of the strange fate of finding his way into the body of a crow instead of a human, in a land far from his home.
Being a simpleton, it was a complicated phenomenon that he wouldn’t want to assimilate. All he knew was of his devotion, dedication, and love for Aesa, his childhood friend, Princess of Estonia. All he needed to know was, if, by the given chance of living another life in another time, he'll ever meet her again.
And on that graceful day, his query have been answered, but, he was afraid. How will he ever talk to her as a crow if she were a human? Or will she be a crow like him, too? It would be easier for him if she were a crow, there wouldn’t be any communication barrier between them, but, will she look the same? Will he recognize her? Will she recognize him?
Bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bump. His heart throbbed and his desire to see her grew stronger than ever. He flew over a small town and caught a tune being hummed somewhere below. It was faint and pitched that it was hard for Askel to recognize it at first, but lowering himself in a spiral form, closer to the voice, he was thrilled at the fluency of the song and the familiar way that it's hummed.
His heartbeat paced evenly as he landed beside a small box by an electric pole. In that box was a little kitten, half dead, humming the Appelbo Ganglat.
The Tale of Askel and Aesa Part II
Feeble Hearts
I hum a song, a song I know, but, don’t know. I feel that if I hum it, someone special will hear and rescue me. It’s all right if that someone never comes. I took a chance and that chance that I took, though it mauled my little golden soul, gave me a taste of a second death, I will not regret it. I took a chance and this chance … what did I do again? I forgot … hmm …
I spy, with my little eyes, something black. It’s coming down in a spiral form getting bigger and bigger. I close my eyes, open it and there I see it clearly, it’s a bird … a black bird and it is crying. Why is it crying?
I lift my paw, it’s a pretty paw of orange, black and white stripes! I’m pretty, my special someone once said so … I don’t remember who that someone was though. I gently stroke the back of the black bird, careful not to wound him with my claws. He seem delicate.
I open my eyes, slightly wider and I pity the look of the bird because it is weeping, like my heart is weeping. I listen to it weep and I am shocked as it hum my song to me. He knows my song! He must have heard me sing it and learned it fast. Now he’s crying as he hummed and calling me Princess! I don't mind him calling me that, I like the sound of that name, Princess. My mother never gave me a name, I was abandoned and I am oh, so hungry.
Dear, dear, black bird, have you a morsel for me? I’m hungry …
I hum my song to ease the pain and to make the black bird happy. Humming my song always made my special someone happy, it might make him happy.
Don’t cry little bird. Please, don’t cry.
I close my eyes. It seems like forever in the dark and when I open them, the bird is there under the same sky, peering at me with those shiny black eyes and he has food! He must have caught it while I was sleeping. It is long, brown and squiggly with little dots for eyes. I try to chew but my jaws wouldn’t move and the food broke away from my mouth. It tickled my whiskers when it wriggled away and I laughed.
The bird got angry with the food. It attacked it and minced it with its sharp black beak. He’s crying, furiously pecking at the food whilst looking at me with those eyes and somehow, they look familiar. I love the way he looks at me. I just wish he’d stop crying.
Don’t cry little bird.
He gently nudged my mouth with his beak. I open them and he forced the food in my mouth. I swallow and the food soothed my empty belly and it felt good. I want more. He willingly fed me in this way. He kept at it until I got tired of swallowing and I fell asleep.
I felt better as I wake up. He is there, standing, watchful of me with the sun behind him like a halo on a black angel and I’ve never felt so happy to have him by my side. He’s nice, he brings me food. How I wish he’d stay with me forever. He doesn’t cry anymore but he still has that look in his eyes that tells me he is suffering.
Why are you so full of pain, little bird?
I want to talk to him, but, I feel too weak to move my lips. I am so eager to chat with the little bird, my Black Angel, bringer of hope. Ah, I hope he stays until I could speak ...
Hey little bird, wait a little more until I can stand again and then we could talk and be the best of friends.
Hey little bird, you're like my special someone; finding me, weeping for me, and caring for me ... it would be so nice, if you were that special someone. Ah, for days I've felt lost and cold, but now that you're here, I feel warm, stronger and secured. I bet my special someone would have made me feel the same way.
Stay, little bird. Please, stay with me.

Simple Prayers
The rain fell hard on Askel as he flew past the town houses and the narrow alleyways, letting the wind wipe away his tears. He'd been crying since he found his Princess, Aesa, lying starved, almost to her death in a miserly looking cardbox by a tall electric post. Luckily, the worms were voluntarily wriggling out of the earth and on the pavement. It made it easier for him to find them and feed them to Aesa to revive a bit of her strength back. He clenched his beak as he gulped his enmity to calm the furious beating of his heart; the rancor burned in his body as he silently blamed his ignominious qualms for Aesa's poor health.
"If only I didn't moped!" He lamented. "If only I had accepted sooner what I was, she wouldn't have had to suffer so much! Forgive me, forgive me, I have failed you." He swallowed his words and swore to Haldjas, god of protection, that he will restore Aesa's good health and protect her for as long as she lives.

Squinting in the rain, he found an abandoned shed a little close to the woods and prayed his thanks to Metsaema, who lead him there. Suddenly, he realized he'd been praying to his gods and goddesses and even remembered their names. It hadn't happened to him since he'd been a bird! He smiled bitterly, "It must be Aesa's subsistence." Although Aesa no longer has that white ebony skin, long pointed nose, thick lips of red; shimmering blue eyes under the long lashes; the perfect curved jaws that make up her moon face and long golden hair, her spirit stayed the same. How Askel knew, he could not explain, but that his soul spoke to him and the wind, Tuule-Ema, lead him to her.

"It had always been like that," Askel whispered as he pushed a lose board upward to enter the shed, "It was only when I'm close to Aesa that I could hear the gods speak." He shivered. He hopped about the interiors of the shed, starting from the ceiling to the cemented floor, which was strangely warm and dry. It was a perfect place to hide Aesa and keep her safe during his absence. He'd been entrusted with a new mission by Gab, his one true friend; he felt it his duty to complete it regardless of the situation. He didn't want to disappoint Gab.