[7Souls Flashback] 4. The Easiest Test in the Universe

Soul quotient: 1/7

From the aqueous comfort of his mother’s womb and the companionship of his twin, he was pulled away. The song of the unborn child’s soul was transposed to a higher dimension.
“Welcome,” a woman greeted the person who had formerly been Mn, but was now Unborn. The effect of the waters of forgetfulness was still strong.

“Hello,” for some reason he felt a close kinship with this woman. “Mother?”

The woman nodded. “Come, let’s get your test finished and away with. Once that’s out of the way I can give you a proper tour of Shambala.”

“Shambala,” the name sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before?
They walked through blue crystal streets, under lapis walls and emerald towers shining ruby lamps. There were very few people walking on the streets. Some looked anxious. You could tell that they were tourists, unused to the strange energy of this place. There was a soft and pleasant hum in the air, and if you concentrated on the sound you could hear a multitude of voices, talking, singing, chanting, laughing. The Unborn sighed in pleasure as he concentrated on one particular voice. Her song was beautiful, suffused with the scent of jasmine, in the scale of a gentle breeze over an ebb tide.
“Come on, now,” the Mother chided (was she his mother, or was it a title of some sort, the Unborn’s instinct couldn’t tell), “or we’ll be late.” She led him into a small field where a group of people sat behind desks. They asked him questions, and he answered them as best as he could, his mouth speaking words automatically. He had no idea what their questions or his answers meant. The Unborn chuckled. This was the easiest test he’d ever done, and since he had no idea what it was about he didn’t care much whether he passed or failed.
“Well done, well done,” the examiners said, after they had finished. “Five of your soul fragments have passed our tests with great ease.”

“What of the other two?” the Mother asked.
“Above average,” an examiner answered, “but might not make the cut off. It’s too early to tell.”

The Unborn’s eyes flickered towards another group of examiners standing before a jungle gym. People were hanging down the horizontal pole and levitating their bodies. “Let me try that one as well,” he said. That was a test more to his liking.
“Sure,” the Mother shrugged, “but you’ve already passed, so it’s not going to make much of a difference.”
The Unborn ran towards the jungle gym with a child like joy, and jumped onto it.
“Now close your eyes,” said the instructor of the test, “and channel the wind into your stomach. Let it lift you ever higher.”
The Unborn did his best, feeling the coldness run through his nerves from stomach to head as more and more wind filled his inner being.

“Not bad, not bad,” the instructor said, as the Unborn floated horizontally. “Above average. This is outstanding for someone who’s had no previous training.”

The Mother tut tutted, “His apprenticeship has already been decided and it’s not with you. Now,” she called to the Unborn, “come down from there and let’s go. Oh drat! I used too much.”

A heavy energy pulled the Unborn towards the ground, and then through the ground. He passed through several dimensions before the Mother could fully finish her sentence. The trumpets went off time and the orchestra playing his soul song paused for a split second in panic.

He was born into the world one month premature.

“Your name is Makk,” his human mother smiled down at him as he opened his eyes.

[Short Prose Collab] Falling Short of Perfection

A/N: This was written in collaboration with Nitin. We had great fun writing this, and I hope that you’ll have even greater fun reading it. You can find more of Nitin’s work at https://fightingthedyinglight.com/ He’s an extremely talented poet, but don’t just take my word for it. Visit his site, and support his work if you like it.

******

When I stumbled upon her blog, I didn’t know the path Fate had envisioned for me. There were six love letters, and somewhere in the now sordid, littered alleys of my mind, I felt the need, the urge to write the seventh. Six falls short of perfection, and I needed closure, and felt that she needed it too. She hadn’t written for five years, and I didn’t want it all to end on uneven surfaces or blotchy pastures riddled with ash and cinder. I felt this insatiable need to finish her project and envisaged her lying on her sickbed, her now gnarly arms infected by disease and catastrophe, reaching out though she was dying, anesthetized by circumstance and hard ground. So, here’s my story and my truth. I’ve written each part according to my subjective interpretation of each letter, of each paper boat floating on the thin stream of lucidity towards nirvana. But what did I gain in the end: Catharsis or dysfunctionality? Pain or pleasure? A hackneyed mind or a blissful, creative soul? I’ll let you decide.

The first letter brought to my mind a series of innocent images; naïve but possessing depth. It embarked on a journey towards redemption, despite the ashen sky and craggy surfaces that embodied and personified her. I was drawn instantly, partly because somewhere in this labyrinth we call life, I’d tossed away my childlikeness and charm. The piece suddenly echoed in my mind, both chastising me and gently warming my soul, questioning where I stood before the omniscient jury: Am I innocent or guilty? Does each crime, however trivial it seems, make me a partaker of the pleasures of the flesh?

The second letter drew me in further with its connotations: Words symbolizing a deeper semantic, a throes of pain and pleasure, making me an archetypal anti-hero. A symbol of both hate and sacrifice, of both selfishness and surrender, and I wished I’d stopped there. I wish I hadn’t gone further, but the desire to hopefully find more substance in this trite façade we call life, with actors playing their roles, and society fiercely and furiously suppressing the anarchist, made me rebel and read the next, hoping for redemption in a postmodern world where reality bends fiction, and fiction envelopes reality, thoroughly and wholly.

III

The next letter plucked out my heartstrings because I could resonate with it then completely. It forcefully yanked my heart out and placed it on a platter where people who thrive on misery could eat it bit by bit, part by part with the raw red drooling from their lips and staining their chins. It was then that transcendence reprobated himself and I was left with guttural shrieks and cries for freedom. I wish I hadn’t read further. I wish I hadn’t known what I had, and I guess that’s the psychopathic tendency of someone who pries too deep, who can’t help himself because his impulsivity reigns.

Another tiring day of work, another night of finding solace in her six letters. In Nabokov’s afterword to Lolita he says that ‘reality is one of the few words which means nothing without quotes’. The letter I read tonight sings of her reality. Her quotation marks are filled with an intangible feeling that sends shivers down my spine. It is in her last line that her letters take a strange departure from her previous posts. She cries to her lover, ‘you are not vicious, or demented. Your mind is wonderful, and your treasures are priced beyond measure. Please speak to me once more, my Yellow King.’

The passion and mystery of her writing draws me ever deeper. I have studied these letters for years, felt every drop of her passion, felt the psychic induction of her words on me, the palpable effect of her heart, soul and spirit on my neurotransmitters. I’ve tried cocaine, heroin and meth to break away from her siren song, but her words never lose allure. The drugs have no effect on me, apart from a short bout of diarrhea. I see her in my dreams, dancing in a masquerade with the Yellow King, their faces hidden, their forms encased by the mysteries of the Regency. The Yellow King gazes at me sometimes, his eyes beaming amusement. ‘Fool,’ I think I can hear him laugh, ‘to become ensnared by my plaything.’ My dreams turn crimson and I wake up to another dreary day behind my desk.

Her last letter is filled with manic joy. She says she has found a way to her Yellow King. She will soon be with her lover. I must find her, and rescue her from him before she succeeds. ‘My life is yours during the day as long as you give me the first dance of the night,’ she says in her letter. What does this mean? Why is she giving this despicable creature her life? Can’t she see how dark and twisted he is? ‘In Carcosa we dance beneath the black stars,’ she says. The more she dances with him the more she fades from reality. The Yellow King’s heart is ice, and her fire is slowly being consumed. Her quotation marks are losing their shape. I must slay this dragon, rescue her. She will write the seventh letter as a funeral dirge, after I slay that pantomime horror and rescue her from his diabolic dance. A .45 might come in handy.

VII

Carcosa lies too far away for the world of man to touch. I now know what I must do. This letter will be written in crimson ink. It must begin with my own death and end with the death of the Yellow King. My beloved, may my death buy you your life.

“We need more A positive,” he heard a voice shout frantically. “I think he’s going to make it.”

Many years later, the letters were forgotten. When he tried to remember this period of his life he drew nothing. His amnesia was a mystery that an inner voice warned him was best left unsolved. In his nightmares though, one scene constantly plagued him, a crowned jester roaring with laughter and gleaming with malice as he waltzed with the corpse of a woman through the barren desert under black stars and twin suns.

THE END

A/N: IV,V,VI and VII inspired by the King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers

[7Souls Fashback] 3. The Big Dipper is Born

Previously

Soul quotient:1/1

He had painstakingly searched the multiverse for millennia, and finally a wrong turn on his way home had led him to his target. The world of the soul splitting deity was a small one, its roads too narrow for two chariots to pass each other. Its houses were all two storeys tall, and the land was filled with masses of people.

“Thank you,” he smiled, when a group of pedestrians made way for him. They smiled and bowed in return.

“He’s thanking us,” he heard one of them giggle to the other. “How strange.”

His companion shrugged, “you get all sorts coming here these days.”

Was gratitude a concept that was foreign to these people, Mn wondered. Were these people so unused to it that ‘thank you’ and ‘welcome’ had become extraordinarily exotic words? Or perhaps there was another reason for the rarity of expressions of gratitude here. Maybe they were so in tune with doing the right thing all the time that they didn’t deem it worthy of response.

“I’m looking for the being who can split souls,” Mn said to the amused pedestrians. “Do you know where I can find him?”

The man pointed towards the main road, where a golden haired child was walking. Mn nearly choked in surprise when the child took off into the air with his next step, walking through the air.

“You won’t be able to catch up to him in your vehicle,” the pedestrian said. “You’re better off on foot.”

“Thanks,” Mn jumped off his chariot and followed the child. This land was a maze of buildings, some roads leading to sheer ledges, and some terminating in dead ends. Could everyone in this little world fly in the sky?

“Yes, most can,” a voice answered his unspoken question. It was the flying child. “The problem is when the infants learn flight. They take off into the clouds, and its a race to get them back down before they freeze to death. Thankfully we always find them in time, but if only there was some way to stop this from happening.”

Mn nodded, gazing at the roofs of the houses, “why don’t you make a rope mesh over the towns?”

The child beamed, “not rope, that would block the light… but tafurat would do. I will grant you one boon in reward for your help.”

“Split my soul into seven parts,” Mn said.

“Done,” the child said, and floated into the air.

“Hold on,” Mn shouted after the child. “How do I reconstitute my soul parts back into myself when I want to be whole again?” The child was too far up to hear him. A moment later, the child threw a spear at Mn. The spear left mushroom clouds in its wake. The earth quaked as Mn’s vision turned from red to black.
Soul quotient: 1/7

He heard his brother mourning his death as he walked the path to rebirth. He drank the waters of forgetfulness, but somehow, even as his soul made its way into a four month old foetus, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something within him that was missing.

Image courtesy: Wikihow.com

[7 Souls Flashback] 2. Akupara, the Cosmic Turtle

Previously

Soul quotient: 1/1

Mn smiled at the woman behind the glass window, “I’m here for the transit pass.”
“Just a moment,” the woman smiled, as her gaze fluctuated between Mn and her holographic screen. “First timer, huh? Why do you possess so many weapons?”
Mn hesitated. He’d forgotten about his collection. Were these people capable of seeing into even his most hidden spaces? They might not give him a transit pass if they thought he was a dangerous warrior. Should he lie? Say he was a gardener and that they were tools of his trade? Would their technology be capable of detecting untruths? Probably.

“I enjoy collecting them,” he chose the more honest path. “I’m weird that way. There’s something about a finely crafted implement of war that sings to my soul. Plus, they come in handy if you’re ever attacked. I don’t intend to harm anyone, unless I’m under mortal threat.” Had he messed that up? Would he not be allowed to travel through this dimension in search of his brother? Damn it all.
The woman nodded, her smile waning a little as her screen flickered. “Go on to the next room. You are expected.”
A group of people, including the driver, escorted him to the next room, which was dominated by an enormous holographic model of a gigantic turtle. A group of people, dressed in white long coats, stood within the room, studying the holographic model intently.
“Hello, hello,” a distinguished looking woman said. “We were expecting you here much earlier.”
“A cosmic cycle earlier actually,” the man near her added.
“Well,” the woman patted the man on his hand, “he’s here now, so stop fretting.” She grabbed Mn by the hand and pulled him to the front of the holographic model, “As you can see, the disease is spreading. Tell us how we can cure it.”
“Cure the turtle?” Mn mumbled.

He’d never been interested in reptiles, and knew next to nothing about medicine. The closest to administering medicine he’d come to was in distributing mead to his men, but he didn’t want to lost this chance to find and rescue his brother. He’d have to make something up.

“Hmm,” he stroked his chin, “I suppose we could operate, and remove the infected area. It looks like it’s almost completely consumed by the disease anyway. Make an incision on that spot between the gaps on the shell,” he pointed at the model, “send a crew of a few healers through it, cure what can be cured, remove and destroy the parts that are too far gone, suture it up and then pump the entire system with nutrients and substances to stave off further infection and promote regrowth.”
The entire room burst into applause. The man who had been rude earlier about Mn’s late arrival was now beaming in a smile and giving everyone cake.

“That will do it,” he laughed. “We’d never have been able to come up with such a plan of action. You were worth the wait.”
“Did I pass?” Mn asked, not sure what was happening. “Will I get the inter-dimensional transit pass?”
“Oh, that and more,” the man answered in glee.
Mn decided to exit the room before they changed their minds. The driver accompanied him. “I don’t get it,” Mn mumbled to the driver. “What I said was just common sense. I have no knowledge of medicine. Why are they so happy?”
“Common to you,” the driver laughed, “but not to them. What you did was a very rare thing.”
“But the turtle… Anyone could see that…”
The driver hushed him with a gesture, “You saw a turtle, but those people saw stars and atoms and comets, metals and gas, electromagnetic waves. Your words today will result in the destruction of twenty stars systems, and perhaps also in the salvation of the universe. What was common sense to your perception, was exceptionally rare in theirs.”

“So, that’s the price of a transit pass these days?”
“Transit pass?” the driver laughed. “You gained much more than that. You are now qualified to partake in the test of discipleship to the celestial sages. There will be twelve contestants, out of which seven are chosen. If you want to rescue your brother, becoming a celestial sage might be the only way.”
“Five losers eh?” Mn grunted. “Knowing my luck, I’ll probably end up being one of them. I have little knowledge of the universe, apart from how to make war.”
“You can cheat,” the driver whispered in his ear. “There’s a being living at the edge of this dimension who can split your soul. Since you’re one of the first to qualify, if you split your soul the other parts of you will automatically get qualified for the test. Split your soul into three, and you’ll be taking the test as three different people, tripling your chance of success. I can’t drive you to him myself, but I can lend you my car.”
“Alright,” Mn said, “I’ll do it. I’ll split my soul.”

[7 Souls Flashback] 1. The Journey Begins

Previously

Soul Quotient: 1/1

Mn and his two companions ran through the barren wasteland, desperately flagging a passing vehicle. They had travelled through many dimensions in their quest to find his brother, but they’d never had to pass through such barren wasteland, almost completely bereft of life. What had happened to this land, Mn wondered.

“Thanks,” Mn said gratefully to the driver. “Where are you headed? We’ll get off at the closest town.”

“Only one place to go in this dimension,” the driver answered. There was something not quite right about him. Perhaps he was one of those artificial lifeforms Mn had heard so much of.

The vehicle soon arrived at a small building complex, where Mn was relieved to see more people. “You need to pass the test for the transit pass,” the driver said, unlocking Mn’s door and leading him by hand towards a glass cubicle.

“Test?” Mn asked blankly. “I don’t have time to pass any tests. I have to save my brother.”

“Pass the test,” the driver replied, “and you may save us all.”

Night Two: Trivia’s Song – The Man with Seven Souls

Previously

Callista dreamt of Trivia’s song

Trivia watched the man with many souls ride his elephant

fighting off dragons, snakes and lions; triumphant

The human’s celestial arsenal rivalled the might of Mars

The elephant’s magic could have overwhelmed even Gandaberunda

Rakshasas crowded around the two fighters in their cars

Trying to win the fight with sheer numbers like the Ymanbanda

Had overwhelmed the ancient world of man

The clouds rained as the elephant trumpeted

The rakshasas and dragons were defeated

Consumed and excreted, their soul music transposed

Within the elephant and its rider

Trivia concentrated hard… this human’s soul music was complex

Seven voices within the fugue, there were

Singing their songs in different dialects

But only five of the voices she could hear

Trivia used the Sight to look past space and time

Moving to an Age before the Sun, when the Seven Souled human had been One

It would be difficult to put this in rhyme

…

The Autumn Arc – Night 2 : A Strange Discovery

Previously

INTERLUDE:

“Ah,” Thomas heard a voice mutter, “looks like the medicine is finally kicking in. Sweet dreams, I hope.”

Thomas dreamt of the moon

Soma added the last dab of charcoal to his self portrait, and smiled in satisfaction. He’d call this one, ‘the Dark Side of the Moon’.

“Hello, hello, is there anybody in there,” he hummed as he made a few changes to the texture.

“Hello, yup I’m here,” a loud voice boomed in response, startling Soma to such an extent that his charcoal stabbed through the canvas. “Heard me come did you? I was trying to be extra quiet. I know how crotchety you get when anyone disturbs your solitude.”

Soma ground his teeth. Mars! That damned buffoon. Sure, he was good to have around during times of strife, but couldn’t the fool have used the herald to announce himself before coming?

Mars’ armoured hand clapped his back a moment later, “Not a very good likeness, I must say. You’re losing your touch, old man.”

“What do you want? The tree is destroyed, and your job is done. Go away,” Soma said, not sure if he was angry about Mars’ total disregard for personal space, or the fact that he’d ruined the portrait.

Mars chuckled, “you haven’t changed a bit in all this time I’ve been away. I’m not here on my own behalf, Old One. Venus said she had something important to show us in the Vael dimension, a split soul man. We must go quickly. Saturn and Trivia are waiting in their chariots. You can share mine, if yours is too slow.”

“Too slow?” Soma growled. “I’ll show you slow. Come on.” Soma summoned his chariot with a whistle, but though he travelled at kiloparsecs per second he could always hear Mars’ annoying laughter close behind. It was a small victory that he arrived at Venus’ location a few milliseconds before the others, and one that he desperately needed. Old? He wasn’t old!

“Greetings, Lord of the Moon,” Venus bowed, as he arrived. She had always shown him respect, even during those crazy decades after she’d been driven mad by the betrayal of Tammuz.

Soma bowed in return. “What did you want to show us, light daughter?”

Venus pointed. “Sister,” she turned to Trivia, “will you use your powers to reveal this one’s story? I suspect that his story spans many dimensions.”

“I don’t like him,” Mars said. “Forget about his story. We should just kill this human and be done with it.”

Was there a hint of fear in the voice of Mars? Soma couldn’t help smiling, as he looked down at the split soul man who was riding his elephant across the skies of the Vael.

Saturn seemed entranced by the human, and Trivia was almost drooling. Venus looked wistful and sad, but there was colour on her cheeks, something Soma hadn’t seen on her for a long time.

Soma shook his head at Mars, “Why do you fear the unknown? This man is definitely not contagious, unlike the Tree of Ash. Trivia, tell us what you see.”

The Autumn Arc – Day 2 : Digital Witchcraft

Previously

The digital witch liked and shared

After a long and trying day at school, Callie was exhausted. She double checked that her door was locked, blew a flying kiss to her captive muse Calliope and then collapsed onto her bed, her eyes and fingers glued to her phone. Thank the Goddess for instant messaging.

<AnaB> Whats up with the app? It’s acting weird? The Divination is taking forever to load

<Sass> Yeah, and the Hexes and Curses menu crashes the whole thing whenever I scroll down. Jojo, it’s because of all your male energy. What have you been doing?
Callie chuckled. The girls always picked on poor Johnson. Being the only wizard in a coven of witches wasn’t easy.
<Jojo> I’ve been doing my homework, like you guys should be doing if you ever want to pass high school.

<AnaB> BORING!!!!

<Cal> Aw! Leave the poor boy alone. Anyway!!! I just got a notification from the Hecatapp. It says that the goddess is weak, which is affecting the servers. We need a sacrifice to strengthen her. The app should work fine after.
<AnaB> Let’s give Amy an acne breakout. She’s such a damn ****
<Cal> The emotional pain from that won’t be worth more than a few points. We need a bigger sacrifice.
<Sass> Let’s haunt cawcawboots and everyone who upvoted his comment while they sleep. He called me a ‘drama queen’ on my Vlog. As if!

<Cal> Sure, that might work. I’ll set up the circle on the app. Connect to it in about an hour. Don’t be late, you guys. Muah!

<Cal> logged out

The Autumn Arc – Day 2 – The Peruvian Shaman

Previously

The moon god dreamt…

Thomas felt strange, his vision was clouded and he was sweating profusely. He’d woken up from a nightmare about a strange and scary tree that ate people. He could only remember bits and pieces of the dream, but it had scared him, and he’d felt real elation when the tree had burnt.

Thomas finished his morning ablutions, ate a few pieces of burnt toast and then set off to class. The sunlight momentarily blinded him when he left his apartment, and the sounds of the people, going about their daily business on the streets, made his ears beat like a snare drum.

He overheard a few people complaining about the morning smog. What were they talking about? The sky looked clear to him… too clear. In fact, he thought he could see a few stars despite the fierce sunlight. How was that possible? He blinked a few times and continued on his way.
Thomas began to notice that the people around him were looking weird. There was a freaky light around them, and when he focussed his vision the lights diverged into different tinges emanating from various parts of their bodies. The colours circulated through their bodies like blood, mixing and merging with each other, their shades deepening or diluting in certain regions. Everybody’s colour flow was different.
“Hey man,” a man with a bright red poncho stopped to look at him, “you all right? You look like you’ve got run over by a truck or something.”
“Yeah, I’m fine thanks,” Thomas said weakly, and blacked out, falling into the waiting arms of the man.
“Ah, Great Mother,” he heard the man whisper just before he lost consciousness, “this boy has drunk moonlight.”

Autumn Arc- Night One (Part 2)- The Song of Trivia

Previously

On an ancient isle, buffeted by the tides and an ever diminishing shoreline

Trivia, enthroned within the Tree of Ashes, sings of sanguine sin

Rape, murder, destroy; give in to hate, apathy and greed

Let the unworthy come to an unworthy end

Let the hate within your souls consume you;

Oh, you who live but cannot respect life

May your sins be the end of you

And leave behind a remnant of worthy heirs

Sanctified saline shores shan’t stymie her song

The foolish moon, her consort once, she’d steal his light and then cook him in brine

The priestesses of Demeter try their best to cut her branches off

But she grows too thick and fast for their shears

Her roots nearly trap one of the Celstial seers

But he manages to stay aloft

Die Die Die you miserable creatures, Trivia sings

What hope do you have of a noble future?

You turn on each other at the slightest excuse

Worshiping peddlers of hate and misery

If you do this when the age is good to you

What will you do when times are bad?

Let me do this favour for you

And leave behind a peaceful, worthy remnant.

A brilliant aurora alights the sky

The sound of trumpets can be heard

Seers and priestesses look up high

To witness a divine spectacle

Old gods and new, arrayed for battle

Shout their battle cries

Dragon fire rains down on her

Amidst songs of praise from Demeter’s human cattle

The ground washes over her like a tsunami

Sapping away her remaining strength

The Tree releases its spores

No no no no no, shan’t die, shan’t die!

Trivia opens a speckled eye

Finally released from the Anti-throne

“Darling husband,” she hugs the moon and cries

“Saved at last,” and falls unconscious, cold as a stone