Reflections: Vincent’s Descent

Vincent’s Descent is a 26 part story (16,022 words total) that began on April 1st, 2023. If you are interested in reading it, after slogging through the below reflection, I suggest you start HERE. Comments are always read and welcome.

Vincent’s Descent began as a writing prompt.

It was generated during A Prompting of Writers, a group I created and moderate that meets on Saturday mornings (10 am EST/EDT: contact me if you are interested). The prompt I gave the writers was to use any creative figure that they truly loved and knew. Flash Fiction, just under an hour of writing, and then we share with some feedback. The idea stemmed from The Pale Blue Eye show on Netflix (Edgar Allan Poe as the MC) and a few other uses of literary figures as characters.

Vincent Van Gogh was my choice for the piece. I enjoyed what I wrote, and when I decided (extremely last minute) to join this year’s AtoZ, that story was what I used as my jumping-off point.

Van Gogh remained the base foundation for Vincent’s Descent: his color palette, how he applied his paints, the swirls, the golden fields, the starry nights, and his madness. It all influenced many aspects of what I wrote over this challenge.

Almost every title of my AtoZ was based on Art terminology, primarily fine arts but also architecture. I plumbed the online FreeArtDictionary for title ideas when nothing immediately came to mind. Some of the posts (Yosti in particular, but others as well) gave me the clues I needed to complete that day’s posting.

The whole thing with the birds came about with the letter B, and The Beatles song Blackbird got stuck in my head. “Take these broken wings and learn to fly” led me to Vincent breaking one of his attackers wings. With his teeth? Well, horror/brutal, y’know.

Also, I’m not a huge fan of birds.

People have asked me about how I name my characters/places. Usually the name must have a meaning that fits the story. Vincent seems obvious, but beyond that it means “Prevailing.” Humi, Vincent’s late addition father, means “Twilight.” “Oralee,” Vincent’s mom, means “My Light.” I chose Maria as that was the name of the daughter of Sien Hoornik, the only woman Vincent is known to have lived with. As to Ms. Faye Smythe (the only character with a surname): Faye was a play on the Fae (elves) and Smythe came about from looking at my bookshelf, seeing my copy of Lore Olympus by Rachel Smythe, and boom! Faye Smythe.

As to anything disjointed or lost over the month, my apologies. If you’ve followed my writing at any time, you know I am a Pantser. I write daily (well, um, yeah, a few days I couldn’t write; I don’t pre-write, seeing that takes the challenge out of this being a challenge.) without an organized schematic, no notes, no plans. The characters/story take me on a daily journey, and then by the end of the month I’m trying to pull it all together and plug up all the holes, big and small. Sometimes it works out.

I’ve mentioned this here and there: I look at the AtoZ as my First Draft Plus. Previous years have had wider followings, and I’ve been asked to take the work, add to it to novelize it. The Abysmal Dollhouse series is one I continue to work on. It keeps alluding me.

I want to thank everyone who did follow along and left commentary and likes. This was my least visited year with AtoZ, but the point is that I so truly appreciate those of you who did follow along. The comments were extremely helpful. Some made me laugh, others had me twiddling my fingers and doing my best villains laugh. Chilling.

Taa Daa! We can now tie a bow around the 2023 AtoZ Blog Challenge.

What did you think about Vincent’s Descent? This Reflection? Tacos?

Quills & Black Skies: Vincent’s Descent – atoz blog challenge

**Author’s Note: Vincent’s Descent is a continuous story that began on April 1st, 2023, as part of the AtoZ Blog Challenge. Most chapters are not designed as stand-alone. I’ve done my best to keep each chapter a touch over 500 words each so they are not too dense to follow along, IMO. For the entire story, please start HERE. Comments are always welcome.

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 17: Quills & Black Skies

               Vincent was half-formed.

               Maria had one hand on the protruding feathers, the other on Vincent’s smooth skin. Both textures rippled under her palms. She held her face close to his, her eyes locked on Vincent’s. He was losing it, fighting it, then winning it, his face morphing, then returning. 

“Vincent,” she cried out, knowing from experience that he might not understand her while they transitioned through Vincent’s worlds.  

She felt full skin on skin now. Clothes had no meaning to him when in flux. Maria knew this, and whatever discomfort she had felt the first was meaningless now.

“Vincent. Vincent. You are Vincent.” Over and over, a mantra, a repeated prayer of hope that he would stay with himself. The language changed independently, becoming guttural, soaring, ancient, cawed. Each utterance came to fit the colored worlds he broke through. No matter, for the meaning, did not change.

“You are Vincent. You are Vincent. Vincent. Vincent.”

               His answer was gritted teeth, snapping maw, growls, howls, moans. From blue fields to orange skies, through a pastel-filled kaleidoscope of scenery. He called her name only once, and it bit through Maria. She faltered in the repetition of his name only then, a sob replacing the vowels and consonants.

Maria embraced Vincent’s wings. His hands. His feathers. His hands. His plumage. No matter the form, she held him close. Though she bled from talons and beak when the bird enveloped him, she held him close.

The change was sudden as they entered Vincent’s golden-hued world.

Vincent was Vincent.

They lay on a swarth of dark yellow grass, soft from morning dew. There was a light breeze, and Maria felt goose pimples run across her unclothed body. Sighing, she turned her grasping for his life into a hold; then, when he draped an arm around her, she relaxed into his side. Head on his chest, Maria heard the jackhammer beating of his heart slow to a less harsh beat.

Maria felt the heat of the rising sun at her back. Exhausted, she drifted.

Vincent did not.

As drained as he was, Vincent remained vigilant, scanning the skies, ready. Whispering, “I wish,” lush trees surrounded him and Maria, their canopies dense and hard to fly through. He wished for raised roots to form a barrier circling them. Water and food for when she woke. Clothes for her came last. The close contact was soothing for him, but he knew Maria well enough, respected her more.

The ordeal caught up with him, and Vincent finally closed his eyes, wishing himself not to dream.

A furious beating of a force of wings startled the two of them awake.

Blackness seeped through the slowly disappearing cover of leaves. Branches decimated, wooden splinters showering around. Vincent wished for a tarp to cover the two of them. Maria cried out as she removed the projectiles that had punctured her exposed skin.

“Maria, I’m….”

He felt her shake her head.

“Wish us out of here, Vincent.”

A child-like voice: “I can’t. I tried,” as debris pelted their covering.

A cracking overhead.

Maria grabbed his hand.

“Move.”

Black branches crashed behind them. Vincent wished, and an opening through the copse widened enough for them to get through. The sound of devastation, the wings, the squealing of the birds, and they made their way through.

shit, they thought in unison, stopping at the sight before them.

Birds. In the sky. On the ground. A multitude of birds. Some flew near, pecking at them. Others, overhead, spattered the ground with their waste. Their noise came in waves, modulating in volume, but the tone remained the same.

Vengeful.

“Dominus Avis,” came from above the throng. Those milling the soil in front of Maria and Vincent parted. A wide-winged hunter landed in the cleared space.  

“About fucking time,” the vast Condor smirked.

He sang out, and an even more prominent figure eclipsed the night sky, coming to them.

Perspicuity of Want: Vincent’s Descent – atoz blog challenge

**Author’s Note: Vincent’s Descent is a continuous story that began on April 1st, 2023, as part of the AtoZ Blog Challenge. Most chapters are not designed as stand-alone. I’ve done my best to keep each chapter a touch over 500 words each so they are not too dense to follow along, IMO. For the entire story, please start HERE. Comments are always welcome.

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 16: Perspicuity of Want

            Maria’s head whipped up and over to Faye.

            “You’ve been there?” Silence as Faye looked away. “Faye?”

            The lawyer wanted to take out a cigarette and light it right then; she wanted to down a bottle of aged bourbon; she wanted to walk out, she wanted to scream, she wanted. Instead, her mind traveled along the non-linear path Vincent had drawn her into on more than one occasion. Lawyer’s mind took over with a huff.

            “Yes. There,” Faye answered. “many ‘theres.’” She crossed her arms, hip jutted to the side.

            Maria took in the stance, analyzing the depth of her voice, the rigidity. She turned to look at Vincent. He was wide-eyed, staring up from his imprisoned bed at Faye. His eyes shifted to Maria.

            “Oh.” Dr. Maria sat still.

            Faye went to her briefcase. She picked it up, held it against her side, took two steps to leave, froze, and retraced. When the case thunked against the tabletop, Ms. Smythe’s hand still clutched the handle. Her back was to both Vincent and Maria.

            “Well, now.” She adjusted her shirt sleeves, pulled the suit jacket taut, let go of the briefcase, and turned. They were equidistant from each other on three levels: standing, seated, and prone.

            “Patient/Lawyer confidentiality is out the window now, yes? Yes.” She hadn’t waited for Maria to answer.

            “I know Vincent is…has…is more than what he appears. I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud, but he is a walking fantasy novel.”

            Maria, as the observer, noticed the eye contact between Faye and Vincent: harsh to wounded.

               The lawyer turned her focus to the doctor.

“It is obvious, Maria, you know this for truth.”

Maria nodded.

“Fine. Ok. Details don’t matter. For now.” Pause. “For now.”

Maria nodded again, turning her attention to Vincent.

His mouth was taut, brows convexed. Vincent, hard to read at most times, was unguarded then. Maria was about to turn back to Faye when she noticed that Vincent’s face began to strain. A vein popped up on his left temple.

“Vincent?”

He shook his head, jerking to the sides.

Faye either didn’t see any of this or chose to ignore it.

“What do you mean that you did not kill that horrible old man? ‘It.’ You were there, Vincent, the blood dripping off you, pieces of him….” Faye Smythe sucked in a breath, “pieces of his flesh under your nails, between your teeth.

Vincent! Look at me! Enough of this fucking around.”

Maria pushed herself out of the chair and got between Vincent and Faye.

“Enough, Faye? Look at him. You’ve traveled with Vincent. I know what I have seen. We have a different lens to look through, how to approach all this. Stop this, Faye. Look at him.”

The lawyer bristled. She pushed Maria out of her line of sight.

She blanched.

“Fuck no.”

Black feathers were pushing their way out of Vincent’s arms. The IV worked its way out of the vein it had dug into, rejected alongside the now torn-apart restraints.

Vincent was thrashing, trying to contain Grackle Lord from emerging.

Maria saw he was losing. She rushed over to the bed and jumped on top of him.

They went away.

Faye was alone in the room as security and nurses burst in.

Oneiric Truth: Vincent’s Descent – atoz blog challenge

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 15: Oneiric Truth (then and now)

            “Cat-gran…” the Grackle Prince began before a heavy wing beat his beak shut.

            The giant blackbird squatted closer, placing a talon over Once-Vincent’s chest, pinning him to the ground.  

            “Do not ever call me by that insipid title again. Do you understand? Well?”

            The princeling stared, nodding slightly.

            “Your fucking waste of a mother. Thought it was necessary to differentiate me from the other one.” The Condor shook itself, feathers bristling as it righted itself. “I am Condor. I am Elite.” It bent its head to look down upon the prince. “Do you understand?”

            “Yes,” he croaked, taken aback that the word had formed.

            “About time. Now,” the Elite removed its claw, stepping back. The crowded rows of blackbirds all hopped back to open the space. “Now, get up.”

            Nothing in his body moved the way he was used to. Struggling, the Grackle Prince fell over, rolled, winding up with his beak against the loam. The color had settled for the preferred Vincent golden-yellow. A sign? He was not sure, but it was enough of a temporal foundation.

            “Get. Up.”

            A kick sent the prince rolling, his back thrust against a wall of blackbirds. They gawked at him in silence.

            There was a light pressure against his back wing, folded tight against his side. It pulsed two times, rocking Once-Vincent. Then another, stronger, and again, until he again was prone but along the stomach.

            His wings, freed, spread wide. The legion in front flapped its wings, and those behind followed suit. The generated airflow fed the Grackle Prince. Without thought, he lifted off the earth, hovered, twitched, then began to beat, and Once-Vincent was airborne.

            Group after another took off to follow. None were considered prey during this journey. Never a hive mind, they yet shared the joy of the day. They flew without question, trading leads, gliding on drafts crafted by their own and those near. As long as the Grackle Prince would fly, so would they.

            All flew after except for the Condor Elite. He watched the sky grow clear of black as the miles swallowed one after one. He squealed, turned in the other direction, and went to give the news to his Lavender Grace.

Now

            Dr. Maria went still.

            “Vincent, no. You don’t have to…I don’t think that you ‘have’ to die.”

            He shrugged. His face was ragged, drained of color. She could see the struggle he was placing on himself. Vincent noticed that and turned his head away from her pleading eyes.

            “Please, Vincent. I’m here.”

            Pause times infinity, but Maria was patient. He finally nodded.

            “Good. There has to be something….”

            A knocking cut her off, and then the door opened.

            “Dr. Maria,” Ms. Faye Smythe entered the room. Shutting the door, she stood by it.

            “Vincent.”

            He closed his eyes.

            “I know you’re awake. That was feeble.” She took a few steps closer into the room, setting her briefcase on the rolling meal table pushed off to the side. Faye clicked it open, removed a folder, and shut the case.

            She turned and stared at Vincent.

            “You’re in a shit load of trouble. First, your family members, and now the guard.”

“I did not kill my mother,” Vincent muttered. “I did not kill the guard.”

“Oh? Really. What about the man you called your ‘Cat-grandpa….”

            Dr. Maria saw Vincent’s body tense at that.

            Silence from Vincent.

            Ms. Smythe walked around the infirmary bed, staying out of reach.

            “I said…”

            “Yes, Faye. Yes. I killed it.”

            She shook her head.

            “It?”

            Vincent pushed his head deeper into the bed pillow.

            “It. You were there with me, Faye.”

Monochrome Variations: Vincent’s Descent – atoz blog challenge

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 13: Monochrome Variations

 then

            Vincent found his way as he strode through colors.

            First beats, the tap tap tapping that Cat-grandpa drilled into him. Yet, unsatisfactory, for that was how Cat-grandpa broke through, shifting from one pathway to another. Vincent found this a narrow trench, but it morphed too quickly. Concentrate as he could; the tapping led to a different beat, a song he had just heard, fallen into, and the journey would unravel.

            Each time Vincent was backhanded, each one harsher. The last time, the sharp, sharp nails scored Vincent’s cheek and chin. Bloody tendrils ran down his face, mixing with his tears. The tears drew another blow. Vincent picked up the chair he had sat on, tossed it through the living room window, and rushed outside.

            Vincent ran over the waist-high green grass that dotted Cat-grandpa’s yard. The rusted gate was hanging open. Another infraction: keeping it locked, a duty Vincent often “forgot.” Screeching came from behind him as he leaped over the large rocks that obscured Cat-grandpa’s shack. He continued upwards, cresting the hill, and was out of sight.

            Stumbling, Vincent tripped over the upraised roots of the largest of the Cyprus trees. Before he tumbled down the slight decline, the colors assaulted him.

            Cat-grandpa was yowling for him.

            Greens. Violets. Browns. Blues, reds, golds, yellows, whites. They mixed, muddying the purity of each.

            When Vincent stopped rolling, his chest heaved, catching her breath, and he raised his arms to the Goldenrods in front of him. He went.

            Silence, ‘cept for the breeze that swayed the fronds.

            Vincent raised himself, seeing all things in a golden hue. The flowers, yes, but the sky, the clouds as well. His arms were still raised. His hands glowed gold, and pushing up his sleeves, he saw the color also permeating his forearms. Vincent smiled, imagining that his lips were gold, his teeth as well, and the tears he shed now were gold.

            He walked on and thought of all the colors passing him when he fell down the hill.

            Green, and all was green, and Vincent ran with the widest of smiles.

            He revisited each color, living in those moments, absorbing the varieties they offered. The golds and yellows were his favorite, and he stayed there the longest, but the blues found their way in. Vincent initially pushed them away, but the more the shades crept in, the more he grew to love them.

            All the colors pulsated, and Vincent felt at peace for the first time.

            Time had no meaning. Vincent traveled, meeting no one, happy that up to this point in his life, there had been no one he wanted to be with. Not his mother, nor his absent father, and not Cat-grandpa.

            Vincent sat when he grew tired and slept when needed.

            He found “I wish” by accident. He grew hungry, finding only berries and fruit along the way. Golden strawberries, white cherries, purple apples. Yet, he wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

            “I wished I had…” and he had a blue PB&J sandwich in his lap.

            Vincent was in his golden world when the black found him.

He was asleep at the time.

Lavender Grace: Vincent’s Descent – atoz blog challenge

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 12: Lavender Grace

before

            Pure black against waves of lavender. Heads and beaks, eyes and feathers. And talons, claws, ripping sharp, tilling soil underneath. Silence from a noisome horde, attentive. The hunters arrived first, securing the landings. Heads cocked, they wait. Latecomers

 pecked, subdued. They will not do that again if they survive this meeting.

            Lavender Grace arrives after dark.

            She lands on a gathering of her raven elite, each bearing an equal portion of her hollow bones and belly weight. Her Grace has fed heartily, digging into the entrails delivered to her. Her journey was extended to the gathering. All black eyes are on her.

            Diving down from the black clouds, her Condor arrives.

            “Clamma pro-Regina!” It bellows.

            Pandæmonium. Every voice cries out for their Grace. Wings snap open, knocking over the weaker, set upon, for feasting happens. Blooded beaks and wild eyes return to the Condor, hovering to the side of their liege.

            The Condor barks and voices still. Her Grace waits.

            “Regina nostra, Gratia nostra!”

               As one: “Gratia Nostra!”

            As one: “Gratia Nostra!”

            As one: “Gratia Nostra!”

            Her Grace unfurled, puffing out her chest, her black feathers bristling with hints of jade and purples, of deep-hued blues, and blackest of blacks. One eye went to her Condor; the other scanned the sky—the barest of nods, one to the other.

            Her full attention went to the mob.

            “Grackle Prince! ” she thundered. “Find. No rest until you find, then destroy what surrounds him. Bring the Grackle Prince. To me. No rest. None. Find. Go!”

            With that, she jetted out of sight in less than a breath. Her Condor still hovered, glaring.

            The murders, the parliaments, the outrages, the flock dispersed.

            Only the feasted’s feathers remained where the conclave trampled the lavender fields.

after

            “I didn’t kill the guard.”

            “I know.”

            “You have to convince them. I’m tired, Maria. I am…”

            Pause.

            “Losing. They find me; they keep finding me; they keep coming through me.”

            “Vincent, I…I don’t know how to help you.”

            Vincent bit the inside of his cheeks. Saliva formed slowly, but his throat felt as if he had been the thousands screaming.

            “I may need to die, Maria.”

condor

               “Where are you, my portal, my conduit?”

               Cat-grandpa’s sharp nails tapped down into the wooden arms of the porch chair. He searched the skies.

Kaleidoscope-Around: Vincent’s Descent – AtoZ Blog Challenge

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 11: Kaleidoscope-Around

Faye

            They had been running under a yellow sun, blue clouds, white sky, all agitated spirals. The air was brisk; it was hot, it howled, it caressed. She had touched his hand. No, he had touched hers. No. She. No.

            Vincent led the way, a zig ziggurat pathway that made no sense. A laugh lurched out of her, not caring. They were nude. Then she was sheathed in linen, and a wide-brimmed hat coalesced around her auburn hair, which had trailed after her, patterns weaving that fell apart with each step.

            Past the flowers, the trees, the greens, the golds, and diving into the clear water of a lake that appeared before them. Nude again, and the cool water licked her breasts. No. Vincent. She touched his back, smooth, and her hands ran up the nape of his head, kissing him, then pushing him under, the two of them, and she a bubble laughed at them as it broke the surface.

            Vincent was gentle, gentle rough, exploring hands under a sky that went dark with bright pinpricks of light that caused the lake water to crest and twirl. He was translucent, and she saw his eyes go from blue to green to black.

            She guided him inside, willing, hungry. His crooked smile. She bit his lip. It bled, and she kissed it clean, but it continued to bleed as they continued to explore, and his hips were a piston, and she took each thrust and gave in return, and they cried out at the same time.

            Mistake, for that brought the flock, and they disapproved. One at first sat on a stalk of golden flowers and cawed raw, drawing two others. Three, who squealed, putting their heads together so three razor beaks looked like one.

            Faye screamed as they came at her. Vincent blocked the first strike, missed on the second, took the hit on the third. He grabbed one, gripping its wings to its body, squeezing with clenched hands, white knuckles, and Faye screamed again as the bird imploded in blood and feathers.

            “run,” Vincent cried, flinging the carcass over his shoulder, reaching out for another of the blackbirds. Faye froze as Vincent tore a wing off of their attacker.

            “run,” he struggled to get out as the first of the birds went for his eyes; the membrane reflected the sun’s reflected light on the moon. Faye stood naked under the onslaught of feathers and light, lovemaking gone gone gone.

            And she heard Vincent say, “I wish.”

            And she was gone. And she was afraid. 

            The dreamscape repeated itself, reforming, taking different paths, the color palette constantly changing. But the birds remained the same, and their sex was still vivid, the lust ripe, and Faye woke up once to pour another glass of whisky only to fade back into the world she rejected when awake.

The shape in the bed

            “I’m tired.”

Dr. Maria

            Maria heard. She stood, going to his side, touching only the bed railing.

            “Vincent?”

            “I’m tired, Maria.”

            “I know.” She bent close over to whisper. “You’re back.”

            “I didn’t kill the guard,” he whispered back.

            Pause.

            “I know.”

Jade-Eye: Vincent’s Descent – AtoZ Blog Challenge

Vincent’s Descent

Chapter 10: Jade-Eye

            The two nurses and the orderly’s attention shifted immediately to Dr. Maria. She let out a practiced sob, loud enough that the soft, slow beeping was overshadowed. They were by her side, one nurse kneeling in front of her. The back of a hand went to her forehead, fingers found her pulse, the orderly stood frozen watching her, and they all missed what was happening behind them.

            They missed that tree roots and juniper branches had replaced the hospital bed, that the shackles became vines. That the heart monitor didn’t exist anymore. They didn’t notice that deep jade-colored trees made up the walls. Maria kept their attention as Vincent went away. None saw Vincent morph into one aspect of Grackle Lord, the harsh feathered, the dark jade-eyed harbinger with a thirst for vengeance ever circling.

Fully awake, its neck snapped on her. She caught the glare peripherally, not wishing to draw anyone’s eyes the wrong way. Maria knew it sneered at her, mocked her as before, but the executioner was strapped down and remained silent. Before looking at the nurse at her feet, Maria felt Vincent assert himself through the black void of the bird’s eyes.

Vincent was fighting an ebb-and-flow battle.

            Tom, of the broken nose, felt something was off. Vincent was behind him. Tom hated this new feeling; his laissez-faire patient attitude shifted after what happened to the guard. Once they subdued Vincent and got him onto a stretcher, Tom looked at the blood, the ripped-open stomach, the guts on the floor. But the eyes; well, eye. One was missing.

            He felt something pulling at him to turn around, to look behind him, to look at Vincent. Sweat broke out in waves. Tom knew what flop sweat was like, and this was worse. He dripped as he fought the urge to turn around, hands beginning to shake, fighting to remain in place but slowly losing. It was a twitch…

            Maria bolted from her seat, head butting Tom’s chin.

            “What the fuck?” His hand went to his chin.

            Turning, Maria “tripped” over the kneeling nurse into the one whose hand had been on her head. The three of them went down, tangled limbs and sharp elbows that hit Tom.

            “Ouch. Again. What the fuck?”

            Maria lay prone and began to laugh. It was genuine and contagious enough that the room was filled with chuckles. Propping herself up on her elbows, her eyes glanced over.

            The bed was back. The walls were walls. The heart monitor beeped.

               A shape lay on the infirmary bed, tied down. It dreamt and wished.

Faye, Vincent’s lawyer, softly snoring, fully stretched out on her living room couch. A tumbler of Crown Royal, thrice filled, laid on its side, the final contents having dripped into her white carpet. She shivered though it was not cold in the room. Faye had, in sleep, tossed off the throw cover she pulled over her before passing out.

A whimper, a shifting of her legs, the left one kicking out while her right leg was trapped under the sofa pillows.

The whimper:

“Vincent.”

IOTA

Wrote you a love letter

Then tore it up to bits

Took the shredded pieces

Threw them in a pit

Setting it on fire

Watched the passion glow

Each piece flared from another

The flames of nevermore



Wrote you a love letter

Knew I would not send

Wrote you a love letter

Sealed it with my blood



Stood there with the ashes

As they crumbled away

The wind sent some flying

Forever out of reach

The seasons took the rest

Let it slip away

Walked away in silence

Left behind a stain



Wrote you a love letter

Knew I would not send

Wrote you a love letter

Words etched in my head



Wrote you love, and

Sealed it with my blood

XAIN: Liquid Time A to Z Blogging Challenge 2021

A to Z Blogging Challenge 2021

XAIN

LIQUID TIME

“Time is a feature of creation, and the creator remains apart from it, transcendent over it.” ~ ~ James Gleick

EVERYWHEN

♁ Ananke

Is witness to all beginnings; to all ends.

The End of All Things rips apart the progenitor with every erasure.

Erasures are Endless.

Endless.

There is nothing to measure.

It is or it is not.

Everything Is.

(☿+♀+☾+♂+♃+♄+♅+♆+♇+☼)+∞³⋝ω

Khronos is a part of the process, as is

Ananke

They were

♁ ⋝ t (⨍⨳⊎∞) =⨿

Khronos upset the balance

The Screams Must Stop

JANICULUM

(ZV) feels the sacred knife from their temple slice into the ethereal-corporal sync they have manifested. They feel a rift, a change, yet pain is of the past, not the present. What comes can not be seen from here. They have been severed from an aspect of themselves that has left the feeling of <.

Only for that time of piercing

A great severing occurred.

They experience the force within them ascend to a higher intensity

What was a standstill finds Khronos waver

Wavered

Khronos meets level meeting level

Balance happens

Khronos identifies the truth

(ZV) shares the truth

Awareness that the blade Ἀστερία bore sliced through the other

Ἀστερία‘s discorporation fused with her screams

A union of screams merged with Ἀστερία‘s

(ZV) + Khronos took notice

SHE is

LAB

FLOAT POD

CONNECTS

• VALENTINA AND ZEHARA
  • Were profoundly in love
  • Each were admired
  • One for high status in the scientific world
  • One for great physical beauty
  • It went to their egos
  • It split them apart
  • The hurt went both ways
• Valentina found backing for her project
  • Science + Transcendentalism
  • Taking the mind to next levels
  • Valentina threw herself all in
• Zehara suffered and drifted
  • Hurt, alone, falling into the darkest shadows
  • Tried to commit suicide on Government land
  • Valentina’s lab was housed there
  • Recovering, an offer came
  • She took it
• Karen
  • Jealousy ruled her ego
  • She easily acquiesced to Government intrusion
    • Valentina did not know
    • Z did not know
  • Another intruded with a thought of a touch
• The Float Pod
  • Z vanished
  • V vanished
  • The Lab, the Float Pod, the Screams
• K was noticed
• elsEwhens
  • (ZV)
  • Khronos
  • Ἀστερία
  • Ananke
  • Everywhen/where/what/who

THIS IS

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