I will no longer be posting Boris K. stories until…


I will no longer be posting Boris K. related full stories until the book is published. After this gem that I am right now sharing with you, I’m taking a break.

A Short, Though Not as Concise History of the Downthesewerese People

Boris K. was well acquainted with the history of the Downthesewerese people as written in the holy book of Cunnilinqus. The original manuscript was in the Linz city library:

And thus the goddess Sewera did cast a grim curse upon the city encasing in in eternal ice. As if this weren’t enough, she also created the Seweronimbus, the ice cloud ‘pregnant with semiprecious jewels of manholeatta and sewerrathata.’

And the young goddess had lost her knitting needles that afternoon, without which she could not have even imagined a more creative way to pass the eternity.

And then, upon taking a stroll among the walls of the unfurled Empire, she observed a nubile young Downthesewerese lass which she had created from the Egyptian Nile river residue.

And upon that most unfortunate day it was when the goddess felt a tinge of anxiety and disturbance. Thus she decided to seek pleasure in the palace. A feast was arranged then in her honor which, much to her dismay, the young blind Downthesewerese lass attended.

And the goddess did plant her in marble, fed her well, then talked her into giving ice skates a try. And the blind Downthesewerese lass carelessly rushed all over the icy surfaces.

And seeing as the lass had been clumsy and seeing as she rose back on her feet with more difficulty with each subsequent fall on the iced surface, the goddess did then offer her to try her hand at softball. The lass managed to injure herself in this sport as well.

And the goddess said, Wee Downthesewerese wench, you play defense. You’re in the foul zone now, get back to base!

And the lass did respond, But, goddess I cannot see! Where are the balls?

And the goddess did say, You are the ball! The goddess did reply wickedly, swung her hand and catapulted the Downthesewerese lass back to base and charged up the running bath in order to catch her mid-air.

And yet after playing her own particular form of a softball game, with the Downthesewerese lass’ help who was now stumbling blindly all over the palace and screaming, the goddess was still far from amused.

And thus she decided to enter the Glasssnake whose snow-white scales shined on the sunlight like a milky-white glass and with this action placed the Downthesewerese lass under temptation. She gave her a magic Linz banana and she did hiss, Should you eat this, four eyes will open up and you will become the best softball player in the known world. You will also have your own softball bat, and it will take the form of a magical banana from Linz.

And the Downthesewerese lass did realize that the banana was a fair meal, felt it up and established that its form was desirable and tempting. And she did take one of the fruits from the snake’s hands and ate it. Four eyes opened the very next moment and the lass came to realize that she had been naked. Upon this realization, the Earth tore asunder and the Downthesewerese lass fell through a horrifically deep pit.

Thus did, according to the holy book of Cunnilinqus, the first manhole come to pass and thus did the Downthesewerese woman get her name. Boris K. loved that part the most.

And amid the darkness of the first manhole the Downthesewerese lass did hear the beating of footsteps. A well-groomed Downthesewerese lad had carelessly been strolling down the goddess’ gardens when he tripped on the Linz magic banana peel and fell into the manhole.

And the goddess Sewera did take but one look at the manhole and saw that he was fine. Thus she created the Union made up of 28 Manhole countries.

And the goddess said, As long as I live you will dwell In the Lands of the Manholes and be the lowest of all men! And she did growl and reduce them all to the size of a human thumb. And the cruel goddess took all the precautions and forever separated Linz from the Downthesewerese folk surrounding them with seventy-seven seas and four hundred and thirty three winds.

And even with that having transpired, the Downthesewerese did not lose hope, believing that a day will come when they will, wandering the manholes in search of ideal sewer life conditions, manage to overcome the set obstacles, return to their place of birth Linz and entreat the merciless Sewera.

Sleeping Mathilde, Chapter Three, THE SHAITAN HORSE, part 2, The Old Woman of the Dead


With this chapter, titled “The Shaitan Horse”, I will temporarily pause sharing the material from the book of Mathilde which is currently being translated. I hope that the introductory passages piqued your interest. Mathilde will soon be available on Amazon. You will be notified in due time. Thank you for reading.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS:

Sleeping Mathilde, Chapter One, A TALE OF ORIAN VON AMERONGEN

Sleeping Mathilde, Chapter Two, THE HÄSSE CASTLE

Sleeping Mathilde, Chapter Three, THE SHAITAN HORSE

***

I looked at him with bloodlust in my eyes, but I did not erase the wolfish smile off my face, quite the contrary, I grinned all the harder.

– You see, Olof… The architecture I am inclined to lately is a strict and monumental one. Vast wall structures are without a single opening. Soon I will wall off all those tiny light windows through which you’re looking.

He gave me a funny look. – By the by, where is thy lady? She was here a moment ago – he took a good long look around him. She was here all along, right next to the two of us, silent like a shadow, peaceful like a sword resting in the sheathe. She seemed as if she were surpressing laughter.

A frightening silence suddenly fell upon the castle.

“Approach, Olaf!”, I yelled for a serf. His shoulders shivered.

“Here I come to my master to obey his command!”, he dared not look at me.

“You see, Olof, how faithful my serf Olaf is to me? If the king would weep, he would weep along with him. If the king died, there Olaf would be howling for him, such is the love of serflings of Hässe to its ruler. Is this not so?”, I embraced my serf. His lips were quivering, and teeth aclatter. “I re-reckon it’s cuh-cold, Guard, let me get the fire going.”

“I want you to take us through the secret door”, I gave off a bloodlust-laden grin and took a good long look at the hump under his tunic. “Look at him, Olof. Is he not like a statue which speaks? Good old Roman Pasquino , a damaged sculpture, of course, but well spoken, because when it hears the vile tongues say ‘Even Amerongen can’t reign forever’ – a prideful look on his face – Olaf would cuss and say ‘Let me find the coward in the shadows! And if I don’t find him, you, master, will blow into him the icy breath of death and the bastard will fall only because he wanted my master to die.’”

Olof raised his eyebrows and said “Incredible.”

“Brave lad” – I patted the serf on the hump under the tunic which stuck out a bit crookedly. “You do not fear the secret door?”

Olaf rose the steel chin to me, grinned and revealed a severe lack of dentures: “I am loyal, milord. My name is Olaf and all live long day I eat and drink profusely and in the name of my prince I would…” He was deep in thought for a while. I waited patiently enjoying the whole thing. Something almost like a thought sparked in his pupil. “I can do this. I can go through the secret door. I will be the guide. I have heard that master Olof is going sightseeing.”

“And if the doors are sealed?”, I laughed.

“I will knock them down with my head.”

“Is he an idiot?” Olof giggled pointing to the wee hunchback. Olaf laughed with him, and his whole face went dark. He clenched his fists. “I will crush the door, here…with these hands!”

“I actually believe you…” – I paid no heed to Olof’s jab – “Peace be upon the kingdom, Olaf.”

”Long live my prince”, Olaf lowered his gaze and knelt before me.

Olof coughed uninterestedly, while strength raged within me.

“Come with me…”, I took a few large steps and stood in front of the secret door

“I don’t see how we can pass.” – Olof wondered. – “Perhaps…”

“Quiet,” I frowned. “I wanted to show you this.”

I stood on a precisely marked spot, which was the Eye of Argus on the mosaic, and used my weight to start up the secret mechanism. The door squeaked creepily, rising upward, while Olof stood in tense expectation – what is on the other side?

His astounded facial expression amused me. He hesitated for a moment or two, and then carefully came after me along the tight pass. He was in the state of complete horror, while we crawled by grotesque gravestones. Soon we arrived at a big room whose stone walls were adorned with a low, narrative relief, similar to Assyrian ones.

There was little to no furniture in the room. Two chairs and an oaken table colored red took up the middle of the room. The table was covered in a pile of parchments and unusual object, one of which was my fancy – shaped by the hands of Mathilde – a miniature replica of the Kraken. The rest of the furniture was colored green, with a figure of a three-headed dragon Buné engraved onto it, as were many other pagan symbols. A fresco was on the wall above the fireplace, a fresco which, according to my instructions, was made by Mathilde. It was an all-black monstrosity, a smirk on her face gnawed to the bone, my protector Yambe-Akka[1], the angel of death.

Not paying attention to an astonished and terrified Olof, in a knightly stance I knelt before her horrific visage.

jambe

Heed my prayer, Yambe-Akka

Habituate my eyes to the blade of vengeance

Let me hold it in my hand

Let my hand not quiver when vengeance recognizes the cause!

Let the bowels howl in fear, bowels of all those

Who wanted you unmade from your way!

 

I got up unladen, breaking the silence reinforced by Olof being quiet.

“Impressive, no?”, I said self-lovingly.

Olof shook from unease, and his face wrinkled.

“I come here to enjoy myself… The room is full of objects which bring me peace” – I paused – “There are all sorts of things here, from Iram, Ubar[2]…”- as I was saying this, I picked up a crooked J-shaped sword from the table, “a cursed Arabian knife”, a gift from Ubar. “Whomsoever has it in his hand, he must…”, I looked at Olof, and his eyes were aflame bloody-red.

“My friend, I see that my dark humor upsets your soul. I’m afraid that I must stop doing that. You’ll lose your appetite,” I mercifully added and pointed to the direction of the spiral staircase.

“They lead all the way to the balcony, and from there on…you’ll see…”

“You surprise me in a horrific way, Orian…Let’s go…”, Olof added nervously. And so, over the balcony, we found ourselves in a hallway, adorned with numerous columns. The end of the hallway was crowned by an arch, made in an Arabic style.

“Down the hallway, keep going straight, you will reach Mathilde’s solar”, I said wickedly.

“Let’s go back”, Olof felt uncomfortable.

“My solar is on the opposite side. We can visit it as well?”

Our conversation was suddenly cut off by a female voice. “Hässe, including the secret passageways, has at least fifty-two rooms. It is a monumental complex, master Olof…”

 

[1] Yambe-Akka or Jabme-akka is a Sami Goddess of the Underworld. Her name means ‘The Old Woman of the Dead’.

[2] Historical lost cities

 

 

Poem Of Babel, Leila Samarrai


NAHUA

It is a place of seven caves
Somebody calls me by my name.
It was the Hueyapan vicar:
“Diego”, – he told me – down there in aztatltlan(tli), the Nahua tribesmen
Cut people up
In pieces.
A sacrifice, Diego, it is a sacrifice.
Chicomostoc… (rhythmic drumming)
Rabbi Isa, Rabbi Isa… (rhythmic drumming intensifies)

RICHARD THE CANNIBAL KING

 

He took rothers and left the stede, that is the King!
The Cannibal King, For the King is the great power
that overpowers the great power that overpowers
the powers the great power
that overpowers the great power that overpowers the powers
Unis,Unis, Unis
Mother, mother, Mother who is Father, awaken me!
Fear not the nightmare, my child, but sing praises to her(demonic laughter)

SUDD MA’RIB

Selena is reading the spells from the Book of the Moon
Blood, my heart, my bill, me in a pool of blood
Ruinous, violently, I bounced my moist body
Towards the tambourine stars
u sudd Ma’rib, la ciudad perdida, *The lost city (esp)
my bane, in the pit, an engine-maker, a prophet, my salvation
mydeca, are – pr – pour.. pour, pour..
my blood
my bane
my heart
my salvation
Abwûnd’bwaschmâja *Our Father, Aramaic
Abwûnd’bwaschmâja
And to this the Rabbi told me:
Talita kumi. *Stand up, lass, Aramaic
l’ahlâmalmîn. *Amen.
L’ahlâmalmîn.

EGYPT

Yet another dream…

I was born
The Goddess of Air and Invisibility
I was born and died a virgin of the Ogdoad
me, Amunet, the female hidden one
the androgynous goddess, the serpent, the lesbian
goddess of graves and coffins
and the moonlight cast by Iah made my dream illumined
I am the nightly vision written of in Anacreontea
Take me to your bedding, if you want your woman to love you
Your hands quiver, but they know how to caress
Kiss that bit of the body where my eyes divert
Of the tombstone
In the dark land, in a bloodied area, in the riverbed
You will be reborn
In the Ogdoad, you will be reborn
In the sudd Ma’rib, you will sing thy love and thy life.

TALITA KUMI!

Fear mourned me
Horror clawed at the cheeks
The spasm of fear is as hard as a quince

(love is a bone breaker, the Dream is interrupted)

SERBIA

“I know what I’ll do. I’ll give you a drachma!”

While the landlady waves with the electricity bills in hand
She’s looking at me as if I were her lamb meant for the slaughter
but, I am a she-dreamer of beautiful lips
Jesus understands me, we speak the same tongue
Amunet understands, she would hold me in her generous embrace
The cities understand, the blindness understands, the blood of the innocents understands
While I cast the curse of the fiery tongue on the Daemonion
After I’ve sacrificed my own world to the world outside
She burned at the spot, bills in hand and all…
O, how we do not forgive our debtors.
And glory be to the hellish tower of slaves!
glory! Amen oh Babylon
I walk thy streets, bare and free
Rabbi Isa, deliver me not from Evil.