The Writer's Tool Box

This  is a valuable tool for writers adding dimension to stories embellishing descriptions feeding the mind's eye.  If you have a visual of a place to look at a seed is planted, and when that seed is watered by the writer's pen roots sprout into being. There is an entire world out there just waiting to be discovered with your pen, or keyboard. A great way for the imagination to expand is by stepping outside the box. Investigating the world of difference; exploring the unknown.  Trust me these things are not in the backyard or playground up the road.  The concepts behind our block buster movies like Mission Impossible, Ian Fleming's 0007 Bond and Man from U.N.C.L.E. they all took place in exotic places.  The world is literally at our finger tips with tools like Google Earth, and YouTube.  We can't all hop a flight to destination exotica, but we do have wi-fi.
Why be satisfied with just wring about what happened around the corner or down the street when creating your short story, or novel's world. Do you know how much fun you can have creating that special place from the imagination.  Another tool of great value is WRITER'S GUIDE TO PLACES it covers 50 states 51 cities and Canadian Provinces; making your writing more authentic. And if you find yourself at a loss for words... like we all experience from time to time there's the Roget's Descriptive Word Finder.  Everything from A to Z nicely formatted, ya gotta love it.

But let us not leave out our characters we painfully birth painting our stories with other levels of dimension and populating the these places we've so meticulously created. Most times we see our characters walking in the flesh in daily life from the frustrating ass holes on the job to the most admired. A little frustration can go a long way if you know how to channel it and make a tool out of it. Even the media and all the drama that comes with it, and even the anger if you can recognize it's potential to your story... a tool to be used.  Sometimes the best ideas come from places of aggravation.  With an over active imagination, and annoyed immensely  I ended up writing
"To Resurrect and Avenge"  a 5 book series about Police Corruption and the Supernatural all this from being  aggravated before I retired. It was also a way of alleviating stress. Never get mad just get writing....imagine a haunted police department Head quarters build over sacred grounds offending the dead. Put it all in the box and think outside the box.
Some times you can even use the ass holes that are doing the annoying when creating characters.  We can be like Dr. Frankenstein, the mad scientist, the world's savior, or even the master chef. Our ingredients determine the character's outward and inward expression from the perfect villain to the perfect heroes. Most times its more then how your character looks, it's about the deep rooted physiological and dysfunctional character traits if they are to be the protagonist of the story. What about the lack of empathy?  How does our character express him or herself...with small words or long drawn out sentences.  Is there a key phrase this character likes to use. Does your character display numerous emotion states of mind? Does your character have a political stance...and what's his or her agenda,or ulterior motive. Life style, economic status, place of origin, family background, history, education all of these areas of life play a role in developing your characters. They should have a story to tell, when you use the tools from your tool box.  I'll be posting excerpts from To Resurrect and Avenge in the near future so come back to be in Another reality.
 Have fun creating and you can visit me at  
www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chaoschronicles
 

The Children of Banjul Part 3

Flailing arms and legs threw water into the air in every direction as the fight ensued.  Briefly Zaire broke the surface allowing his lungs to expel the water and refill them with air before returning to the struggle to maintain his life.  Their icy touch sent chills through his blood compelling him to frantically fight for his life as he swung the curved blade over and over having no affect on his tormentors.  Sinking back beneath the shadow waters the short reprieve gave him enough strength to break free and find his way back to a dry patch of earth as he reclaimed his composure breathing heavily.

Meanwhile in the citadel Mazula howled in madness by the news of Zaire’s escape,” incompetence,” he screamed at the captain of the guard as he swung the overly large hand across the man’s throat slicing him open.  Blood sprayed across the walls and his advisory's face shocking him.
 “Gather a dozen of my best warriors and ready my armor…I will oversee his capture… I will eat his heart.”

Finding their way through the darkness was like second nature as the smell of the stream’s running waters penetrated the air with nature’s nocturnal residents claiming their territory chirping and buzzing along the way.  A small and humble fire was lit where the women began to chant throwing herbs into the flames causing them to crackle. Bluish colored smoke spiraled up into the air as the flames danced wildly.  The elders began reciting the ancient prayer once recited by their ancient ancestors.  Children gathered more herbs and roots to throw into the dancing flames.  Young men fashioned hand instruments from nature’s fruits; rattles and hollowed wood would create rhythmic vibrations to accompany their melodic mantras enticing young women to dance to the rhythms that flowed through the night stirring the heavens.  One by one their consciousness became the collective.  The drumming continued the chanting continued the dancing continued.

Zaire stood upon the dry patch of small earth staring out into the unrelenting darkness,” this is madness,” he growled glancing up at the moon that appeared so close it was as if he could reach up and touch it.   Then the foul stench of the wind returned taunting him whispering,” there is nowhere for you to go warrior allow the shadow waters to claim you,” it whispered spinning the warrior’s head around in all directions to search for the words that stalked him.  Suddenly his heart began to race as if it were filled with a great burst of energy as his chest began to heat up beneath the chest plate with a surge of energy flowing empowering him, “I will be claimed by no such thing,” he said with new vigor silencing the ill words of the shadow waters.  Placing his hand over the chest plate he felt the heat radiating from the amulet as it spoke to him,” you have come too far to allow Mazula’s evil to impede your destiny.  For many generations the blood amulet has protected your line. It is not your destiny to perish at this time,” the amulet spoke clearing away all doubts and apprehension.”

“The blood amulet…it speaks to me?  Am I going mad it has never uttered words before,” he said to himself confused.

“Only in times of dire need does the blood amulet speak to the warrior’s heart…there is no need to be confused trust in your faith,” the words came.

“Your faith is sealed warrior…here in the shadow waters.”

“I think not foul works of Mazula,” he said taking the dagger from its sheath and swiftly cutting across his palm then smearing the blood over the chest plate diving deep into the shadow waters past the dead souls into the black abyss.    

Suddenly the small stream swelled running over their feet, and then up to their ankles.  They continued chanting the ancient prayers as the water grew deeper with its banks growing wider. Up to their waist they continued chanting.  Then suddenly a huge arm broke the surface followed by a leg just as huge.  Then coughing up water the great warrior emerged.  Bulging eyes peered out at the entranced villagers. 

“What manner of being is this we have conjured, is it a god…is it a water spirit,” they thought as the water born Zaire rose up.  The ground beneath his feet welcomed him with every step taken as he towered in height with strength displayed throughout his massive muscular frame.  The villagers remained speechless as stones; pleasantly surprised the magic of their ancestors was still strong and powerful almost making them apprehensive of their own power.   However a small boy named Ekewe walked up to the giant like figure.

“I am Ekewe,” he said with curiosity streaming through his small body. 

Towering over the small boy who only reached to his waist deaf to his words; looking with an undeniable fascination around at his surrounding for only seconds ago he was in an unfathomable watery abyss.  “The amulet returned me to its makers…the ones of the first magic,” he thought returning his attention back to the small boy.  Never had Zaire thought anything so unbelievable was possible.

“I am Ekewe. Did you come from the land of the ancestors?”

Zaire looked thoughtful, carefully contemplating his words. Ekewe spoke again thinking that maybe his words did not reach his ears. 

“Did you come from heaven… the land of the ancestors… in the kingdom of the dead who sit at the feet of the creator?  We pray to the ancestors to protect us from the man-beast Mazula.”

Zaire gathered his composure with the villagers standing around him.

“You must be from the land of the gods,” Ekewe said to the warrior, which brought a great burst of laughter from him, “no… I am no god,” Zaire chuckled, “I came through the watery abyss by way of the amulet into this realm.” 

The boy looked incredulous, “my elders chanted the sacred words, and I did not know what they meant… all I know is that they are words of power.”

Akosuwa then came forth with great wisdom radiating from her; the ancient one having lived over a century.  Zaire gazed at her with great admiration feeling her spirit.

“The prophecy is true,” she whispered walking around the great warrior inspecting him with diamond sharp eyes.

“You are Akosuwa the wise… my great grandmother told me of your kind when I was a small boy… people of the earth who birthed the blood amulet worn by my line.” 

“We thought we had lost those powers when so many of our holy people were stolen many moons ago and we were forbidden under pain of death the use of magic,” she said as tears streamed down her face.  Zaire knelled down on one knee honoring the elder.

Another villager emerged from the darkness; a man carrying a baby in his arms, “they steal from our land during the jackals’ moon.  They steal our people, they have stolen my wife. Our village grows smaller because of Mazula. 

Some of us have vanished without a trace…I have been calling upon you,” Choc said.  Zaire felt the pain of the village as they confided in him. 

“On pain of death no one will ever steel from your village again.”

“You are a god aren’t you,” Ekewe said.

“No… I have come because you have called me here.  An agreement was made with your ancient ancestors centuries ago, that when the heavens were in position the blood amulet would return to the children of Banjul.”

Suddenly loud angry voices penetrated through the darkness with Mazula’s guards wielding swords, chains and shackles waving torches as they burst forth from the forest with chaos erupting everywhere.  The tormentor’s voices penetrated the night denoting their cruelty toward those things sacred to nature. 

“Quickly blend with the essence,” the old woman said with the others in agreement.  Zaire looked intently around all that was left was the fire burning and the drums with the stream’s water steadily growing. 

“I don’t understand…why they didn’t revert to this strategy sooner and saved their holy people,” he thought to himself then realizing the use of magic was forbidden to them by pain of death.   Then shaken from his thoughts his presence was discovered by the king’s guards.

“We have found the prisoner…summon the king,” one voice cried out as they circled him with machetes drawn.

“Do not kill him he is to be the king’s sacrifice…find the others and kill them instead.”  Despite the drawn machete Zaire could sense their apprehension; the tension in their muscles as the smell of fear cloaked them, but he couldn’t distinguish if their fear was instilled by Mazula or if it was due to his uncanny escape and how he survived the shadow waters maybe it was all of the above.

“What is it that Mazula holds over you? You were once good men.”

“Silence you are not worthy to speak to the king’s guard,” one of the men growled with arrogance as the other four surrounded him.  One of the men held iron shackles to be clamped around his throat, wrist and ankles.

“Do you think I would allow you to collar me like some animal,” he said unsheathing the huge curved machete.

“There are four of us can you not count?”  Suddenly a large whiff of black smoke cloaked the man’s complete physical form with his screams ringing through the air shocking the others including Zaire.

“What sort of witchcraft is this?”

“Are you afraid…lackey of the king?” Then again the black plume of smoked appeared before the guard’s eyes cloaking him sending his screams out into the darkness as well.

“Where’d they go…where’d they go?”  Fear wrapped itself around him squeezing him taking his breath away.  Looking around desperately as he backed away from Zaire,” stay away from me,” he shouted steadily backing away from Zaire as he unfortunately backed into the sharpened end of a branch that impaled him through the armor he wore.  On the other end of the branch a young woman faded into view,” we will no longer be hunted like animals for your man-beast,” she whispered into his ear then changing back into a wisp of smoke horrifying the dying man.

“Demon,” the guard shouted as he charged Zaire,” call off your demon.” 

Metal then clashed against metal as the two exchanged blows.  Back and forth the blades swung as the two fought side stepping fallen branches trampling over the camp fire kicking ambers into the air unaffected by the flames while the king and the rest of his guards searched the area calling out into the night,” reveal yourselves we know you are here…by order of the king surrender yourselves,” the guard shouted with Mazula growing impatient.

“We will not be enslaved by the sadistic evil that has taken over our land.  The man-beast is not the true king,” a disembodied voice hissed into the air un-nerving them; causing Mazula to unsheathe the doubled edged sword forged in the devil’s fire giving it powers beyond human understanding.  The skull shaped hilt made for the overly large hand of the king swung effortlessly through the air separating the head from the villager whose words had taunted him spilling his blood on to the soft earth with his body fading into view.  His limp body laid motionless as Mazula stood over him,” find the rest and slay them all if they do not tell of Zaire’s whereabouts.

Zaire and the king’s guard locked into a deadly embrace continued,” surrender to Mazula and he will kill you quickly and I will not have to cut off your manhood,” he boasted until Zaire’s blade found a weakness in his chain-mail; falling to his knees he looked at Zaire in disbelief ,” why do you defend them? They’re nothing…animals scavenging in the forest living in caves.”

“It was because Mazula made them into what you perceived them to be….by taking away their homes…denying birthrights.”  The guard gurgled blood through his open mouth,” please…give me a warrior’s death.  I do not want the last thing I feel to be Mazula’s wrath for failure.”  Zaire looked at him intently with disgust.

“A true warrior does not prey on the weak and helpless…those who can not defend themselves.  You are not deserving of a warriors death you are deserving of the fate of the man-beast who sent you here to kill women and children,” Zaire said as Mazula made his presence known,” he is correct,” he added walking toward the dying man, and with one large hand he tore at the man’s throat slowly and cruelly sending him into convulsions of excruciating pain.

“ You will beg for your fate to be swift, but believe me it won’t…suffering shall be your lot,” he said as his last remaining guards made their appearance.

“Fail me and I will hold your heads as well,” he growled showing them the severed head of their fellow guardsmen with ragged and torn flesh dripping the man’s blood.

“This should prove entertaining,” Mazula chuckled as his two guards prepared to engage Zaire; circling him with shackles they intended to imprison him with.

“Hold still dog this won’t hurt a bit,” one of the guards snarled holding up the shackles intended to humiliate and degrade the warrior.

“Hurry…I don’t want to be in this god forsaken place any longer than necessary,” Mazula said watching his first guard fall prey to Zaire’s powerful blow from the hilt of curved blade that caught the man’s chin by surprise knocking him into the feet of Mazula.  Enraged with his guard’s failure the king’s twin blade cleaved  the man’s head in half,” I said to shackle him not to be plundered by him,” Mazula shouted diverting the other guard’s attention away from Zaire. The warrior took full advantage of the man’s distraction as he swung the blade across the guard’s midsection with such force his body spun around with his entrails splattering the king.  Mazula’s eyes bulged in disbelief his best men not only defeated but slaughtered before his eyes. 

“Am I still dirt beneath your feet?  What does the man-beast have to say now…the one who poses as a king?”  His dark evil began to rise up through him with such force it colored the night with his hate and loathing.  The pointed teeth bared his true nature as they seemed to elongate in his twisted mouth that foamed like some rapid animal.  Picking up the shackles from the blood stained earth,” you are my prisoner…surrender now and your death will be swift...however if you do not I will find everyone in this place and gut them slowly,” he growled as he swung the huge blade through the air manifesting a severed arm with a terrifying scream following; invoking the wrath of the villagers instead of fear. 

“Your evil will fall upon your own head,” the whispers came as a swift shove propelled Mazula forward into a tree.  Zaire watched incredulously realizing he was being given an advantage. 

“The dead await you…they await you for judgment man-beast.”

“The king is beyond judgments,” he roared swinging the blade again as it bore no fruits from his efforts.

“It seems you have no more power here,” Zaire laughed further angering Mazula.

“I have enough…I am the king, guards,” he shouted out,” guards…your king summons you!”

“It seems his majesty has been abandoned…or worse they have died at their own undoing.

“Is that so scum who proclaims himself a warrior…I am curious tell me before you die what dark magic was it you used to escape the shadow waters,” he asked stepping closer to Zaire breathing putrid breath from his lungs into the night air tainting it.  Zaire stood fast unafraid of the man-beast with an unwavering resolve. 

How did I survive the shadow waters….it was with no dark magic I can assure you... let me show you instead,” he said suddenly charging Mazula with the curved blade swinging it so fiercely it was almost a blur shocking Mazula and catching him off guard.  He was quickly backed up a considerable distance.   In an instant the two found themselves at the water’s edge with their confrontation ensuing as the water became waist high.  One by one fading into existence wisp of smoke materialized the villagers to witness the warrior take on the wickedness that had ravished their land for so long nearly stripping them of everything they held dear.  Water splashed high up into the air; over and over the two exchanged blows and matched strength.  At times they would fall beneath the surface thrusting about and then rise again in a fury.  Zaire managed to block the over sized hands as they both sank beneath the water.  The two then broke the surface gasping for air.  “Mazula your reign of terror is over your fate awaits you in the shadow waters,” he shouted seizing him by the throat squeezing with all his might as they disappeared back beneath the surface of the dark water. After a while the water’s surface became still as the massive amount of water transformed itself back to shallow stream revealing only the weapons from the confrontation at the villager’s feet.

I hope you have enjoyed another story from Another reality thanks for visiting

   

The Children of Banjul Part 1

The citadel loomed over the city of Banjul oppressive and foreboding.  Its stone structure’s spires seemed to stab into a dark sky with its arch carved towers keeping a watchful eye for the possible invasion of enemies  and enemies of the unseen world as well.  Walls built of volcanic stones and boulders rose up to great heights surrounding the place that was once the sanctuary of its people; now only vacant structures and pathways with the occasional stray goat stood witness to the abuse of power as its population fled their homes, some in exile and others thrown into the citadel’s dungeons for minor infractions of the law, or worse accused of manipulating the forces of nature and put to death. Only the king was permitted the use of the occult.  Those condemned had their essence extracted to be used in spells to vanquish enemies of the petty conqueror that oppressed them now.  

Deceit and treachery from those thought to be loyal instigated political turmoil and in-house fighting among the ranking patriarchs.  Conflict of foreign policies and a lack of alliances became an open invitation to over throw Banjul’s ruler emperor Lagolas.  Chaos and uncertainty ripped away at his being as he watched his kingdom slip from his grasp as his sons died one by one engaged in battles that possessed no strategic value nor rhyme nor reason only that false accusations made stated that the bordering kingdom’s long standing treaty between neighboring lands had been violated there by invoking an act of war.    Lagolas had long suspected Mazula’s treacherous deeds played a part in the events unfolding with his obsession for the sacred essence; an ancient magic that proved to be neither true nor false only a mystery shrouded in darkness.  Many perished in search of it’s the sacred essence; an opiate with many attributes to open doors to the spirit world and summon its occupants to do one’s bidding, or change one’s physical appearance.  It was the key to overcoming death to live as a god, to turn lead to gold possessing more riches than one could imagine.  And last but not least having sway over the forces of nature.  Many have died for this quest that remains elusive leaving behind blood soaked lands whose spirits can never find peace.      

 In the throne room sat the embodiment of barbarity king Mazula referred to as the man-beast cursed by his ancestors a war oriented soul who lived for the sake of battle.  Blood filled dreams afforded him no peace as restlessness fed his appetite for cruelty.  He would never be afforded the simplest pleasantries of life; the scent of jasmine, the sweetness of honey would evade him as bitterness and the stench of death would remain his closest companion.   

 Losing his son in battle his heart pounded with rage as he inhaled and exhaled. An unquenchable thirst for carnage rose up in him with anger flowing through his veins as if it were blood as he denied an unimaginable truth.  The unholy conception of his son was an abomination before nature itself.  That one fateful night a witch an enemy of his ancestors deceived him sending him one where death had embodied her.  In his time of weakness ignoring the faint stench of death that hung over her accompanied by her cold embrace he indulged his urges.  The attempts of his ancestors to return her back to the kingdom of the dead were futile as he did the unthinkable and banished his ancestors, a fate worse than death itself.  But the powerful spirits would not be denied revenge of such sacrilege.  Propelled by fury an unrelenting curse fell upon him never would he know peace again or of life’s pleasantries as he fell prey to lowest of bestial natures.  His thoughts would be of confusion creating his reality around him with a twisted and dark mind that only viewed the world around him as his enemy suspicious of everyone. Uncontrollable fits of anger often led to someone’s execution.   Afterwards when the anger faded he claimed it as the will of the gods.  It was often whispered that the king engaged in human sacrifice to sooth the raging beast inside of him by eating the hearts of his victims; thus the reason for his rather un-nerving appearance.  The sharpened teeth with nails black as slate was reason enough to fear Mazula.  His blood lust nature draped his spirit as if it were a robe, obsessed with power the tyrannical beast ordered those with loyalties to the previous ruler to be singled out for banishment or death according to their rank or status, or more importantly his mood for the time being.   Empowering those from his inner circle he quickly replaced the generals of the old king whom he despised, and replaced them with individuals lacking the ability to think for themselves and would agree to anything to simply appease the twisted notions of the war mongering tyrant.  From such like minded individuals he formed his own political and judicial council to execute his bidding.

*

 Dozens of Torches lit the circular chamber as shadows danced about free of a physical counterpart against the grey stone walls.  Evil had been birthed; taking up residence where justice once dominated.  Zaire stood before the war council scarred and battle hardened exposed like a raw nerve beneath the chain-mail armor as he felt resentment for accusations made against him at the battle of Zokarius defending Banjul against her enemies.  A place where war raged for as long as anyone could remember, in fact it was completely lost as to why the fighting continued some say it was over unclaimed riches of sacred essence, others say it was over land and what was buried deep within the earth.  Many reasons were given as to why countless wars reigned with its casualties populating the ether. 

Surrounded by political enemies his jaw clenched as he gazed out at the faces that gloated over his perceived defeat.  “Mazula’s lackeys… I knew the time would come when honor would be replaced with decadence of heart where cowards who had never held a sword would determine a warrior’s fate,” he thought.  The council knew they could never persuade him to their political view or control him.  “It is much safer to annihilate what cannot be controlled,” they thought. 

The men seated before him in positions of perceived authority formed the council of law most of which were politically corrupt and immoral void of integrity seething with hatred.   Old and bitter envious of Zaire’s strength, and courage they sought to judge the warrior standing before them.  Battle wounds marked his body like badges of honor.  Restrained by the kings guard’s with heavy chains securing him was the only reason why the council felt so compelled to express such condescending and arrogant overtones laced with complete disrespect when referring to the warrior before them.  Only the privileged witnessed the many sessions of innocents on trial for fabricated accusations falsely lodged against them with no recourse.   

“You are hereby accused of a most heinous act… resulting in the death of your captain… the king’s son Mazula the II heir to the throne of Banjul…by the use of the forbidden knowledge of the dark arts….no commoner should have access or knowledge of the occult or conspire with demons or the dead.   Should I go on,” the voice bellowed out condemning Zaire to doom in just a few short words.          

“If you must to confirm your self appointed importance,” Zaire shot back angering the council that sought to dis-credit him and tarnish his character and reputation like so many that fell before the hateful and vindictive council of Mazula’s political Hench men. 

“I was ordered to slaughter those who posed no threat to anyone…women and children, the old and sickly after the battle was won, despite our captain fleeing at the height of the battle… it is where he met his demise.  He was cruel and cowardly he showed more cruelty to his men than the opposing forces we battled across our blood soaked lands,” he declared as his memories slipped back in time to the raging battle taking place in his memory vivid and clear as the events played over in his mind’s eye.  The sound of clashing steel rung out as armor was splashed with blood.  His ears filled with the screaming of dying men as they fell; some with limbs sheared off.  Others fought on with blood streaming down their faces some even with protrusions of the enemy’s weapon still embedded in their bodies.  He remembered the many times the swift breeze of the enemy’s battle ax whizzing by his head missing him narrowly because of the assistance of the powerful amulet and precious gems that adorned the breast plate that covered the massive chest.  Painted with his enemies’ blood concealing it; it blessed its wearer with power and strength making him nearly god-like, and victorious in battle like his father before him and his father before him.  The amulet’s great power protected them while all others perished in the heat of the battle.  No one ever knew where the amulets came from.  Some speculated that the amulet birthed itself into existence in the far reaches of another realm and was only attainable by those whose bloodline was worthy.  Others say it was cursed as it condemned all others around it to befall a most violent death while engaged in battle as it fed off of the blood lust of war, but no one knew for sure.   So many thoughts had run rapid in Zaire’s mind he couldn’t  help but to wonder if he himself were not cursed, but quickly shook the thought from his mind; for there was no room for doubts or fear as he was jolted back to the present.

“How do you plead,” the words thundered.

“What difference does it make to those of no moral standing…it is of no consequence how one pleads when the outcome is predetermined by the ill deeds of those who abuse their authority in such ways,” the warrior stated defiantly.

 “Then so be it you have here by been found guilty of the black craft and here by sentenced to death Zaire of Banjul son of Jakuta.  Have you any last words?”

“Yes I do…How did the war council come to this conclusion? What proof do you have? Where are your witnesses?  I have the right to face my accusers.” 

Then suddenly the room seemed to have chilled and dimmed with the torches’ flames flickering as dread made its presence felt,” what proof do I have…my son is dead and you are still breathing,” the king said circling Zaire sizing him up as if he were to be devoured at a feast.  “He was a most skilled swordsman trained by only the best since he was a boy,” he snapped breathing heavily with gritted teeth; teeth that were filed down to a point.  The overly large hands that hung by his side baring black nails became clenched fist.  Standing before Zaire seething with hate and loathing for a man who had survived a battle that had taken his ill conceived son enraged him. 

“Sire…your hands,” a voice said gesturing to the droplets of blood that were trickling down to the floor forming a small puddle that darkened and then fouled the air.   Mazula glanced down momentarily un-phased by his blood he’d drawn from himself by his unrelenting anger.  “This dog before me dares to ask for proof I am the king and I need no proof.  You asked to face your accuser…here I am,” he growled only inches away from Zaire’s face ranting insults inciting the warrior to challenge him.  Zaire turned his face away from the hate filled words only to have an unbearable strong hand grab him by the jaw as black nails dug into his skin drawing blood, “what does the dog have to say,”  the king said pushing his face away leaving angry wounds that bled down his neck.  The horrific odor nearly took Zaire’s breath away.  Anger began to rise up swelling the warrior’s chest flaring his nostrils that took in the putrid air that seemed to add to the agitation of his spirit.  The insults and blatant disrespect he received after serving his kingdom perturbed his spirit.  To be rewarded with abuses from those whose quality of life had been greatly improved 100 times built a fire of rage he struggled to silence, but it would not be denied.  From deep within his spirit he felt the surge of truth bursting forth,” the demon seed you spawned dealt his men nothing but tyranny and misery gaining him many enemies.  His abuses of his office and authority granted him nothing but hate.  On the battle field he cowered behind sending good men to die in ill conceived battle strategies of poor planning…because they were expendable…and his father was the king.  The general’s advice was ignored because his father was the king.  He was arrogant ignorant and stupid filled with self importance like the rest of your lackeys.  What got your son killed was not magic or the dark arts or demons it was him fleeing from the heat of the battle as it threatened to overtake our position. We pushed the enemy back while your precious captain ran like a whipped dog…you can not blame magic for his cowardly demise.  And since I am to die my words will forever haunt you,” Zaire said with great satisfaction.  Suddenly an ear piercing howl rang out from Mazula somewhere between human and bestial shocking everyone except Zaire who saw the king for what he was. 

Thanks for visiting Another reality visit again for part two of The Children of Banjul. 
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The Storm's Calling

Paranormal stories supernatural, occult, new age, what ever you want to refer to them as they all contain elements of the metaphysical.  A basic understanding of any metaphysical subject is extremely invaluable.  It could be the oral traditions from a culture's spiritual concepts. Fantasy and  fiction writers' understanding of the basics will go a long way in character development, and origins.  A whole cast of heroes and villains come from just a small understanding of metaphysical science for fantasy writers or any creative story teller.  This is a story centered on the Kundilini and it's Chakra system originating; an Eastern metaphysical concept of how energy flows through our body utilized by many indigenous cultures around the globe.
Now the story begins

Stabbing down from the sky wet and cold came the rain accompanied by fierce winds carrying the spirits of the ancestors strong and powerful.  The villagers scurried in an attempt to escape the brutal elements with their meager belongings, but the fierce winds seem to tear away their homes with the exception of one who stood defiantly in the path of the violent rains and destructive winds. 
“Fools…you don’t honor your dead; especially now.  This is the thinnest the veil has ever been between the physical world and the spirit world… so shear almost like silk.  Eventually the veil will begin to deteriorate in different places and those whose eyes are aligned with their spirit eyes will be able to see on to the other side and those on the other side will be able to see on to this side.  They may even cross over.  Some will go mad,” she said seeming indifferent to the storm raging around her as she was not effected. 

“Miraku…Miraku…you got to get out before the Ganges flood everything,” the young man said soaked carrying a basket containing his belongings standing in the door way allowing the cold rain to find its way into the small structure that served as Miraku’s home.  “Boy…do not fear the Ganges.  The river spirits bring good fortune and clean away the bad.  This is a cleansing so much has plagued our people.  Close my door,” she said pulling him inside immediately calming him.
“We have lost our dream senses…our many ways to dream and communicate with the other side…that’s where our people are, but we can’t see or hear them.  You lost your spirit eyes and the will to dream your world.  Because you’re covered in dirt and filth…that’s what fear is…  Its hate…stop hating and dream walk.  Sometimes dream walking can shift your reality into another existence and teach you…give you wisdom boy. Close your eyes and still your mind boy.  So even when you hear the clock on the wall ticking and the traffic in the roads somehow your spirit sight has shifted now you’re residing in a distant world of spirits in a place comprised of mostly water elementals and ancestors.   They walk the surface of our world. These beings are elements within elements that create their own individual realities and ours too; multi-dimensional plains,” she said in his language compelling him to become still and thoughtful despite the raging winds and rain that pounded all around them yet doing no damage. She listened to the wind and then went on,” look  to the rain look inside of it, and listen to the wind use your spirit ears and eyes.” 

He began to stare out of the window into the falling rain. At first the rain was as if a thousand drops were all falling randomly then simultaneously becoming a sheet of wetness.  The wind once a howling in his ears now became words possessing a familiarity.
He listened closely disbelievingly,” Grandfather,” he asked,” that’s impossible my grandfather has been...”                                                                                

“What…dead.  Why do you not call him what he is… an honorable ancestor with a message he’s been trying to give you since he crossed over.  Open and listen,” she snapped returning his attention back to the storm before him. Again the familiar voice came speaking to him in a way he understood telling him the story he use to tell him when he was a child.

“Long ago populated among the more unique plains of existence was a village of people called the Khakras.  This was a culture steeped heavily into the ancient Rites the way we once were.  They relied upon their chosen to successfully complete a dangerous Rites of passage to empower them…many did not survive.  An arduous journey into the denser plains of existence was only the beginning of the perilous Rites of passage.  They must engage with the non-evolved and attempt to open the seven bridges of consciousness.

On Kun-Li’s fifth cycle she journeyed through many doorways only seen with the spirit eyes during the most sacred time of all ”the storm’s calling” the time celebrated by the water elementals.  Translucent and fluid they relished in their essence existing on the material plain and the non-material plain.  It was their time to congregate with other nonphysical beings, including the ancestors.  Messages were always being relayed back and forth between realms from the living and the dead and others.    At that place of many waters it was divined by the great oracle that her time had come to undergo these Rites.

“Kun-Li… it is you who must insure the opening of the way for the bridges of consciousness, and in doing so you cannot allow your essences to be dissipated or corrupted,” the crystal being whispered in a raspy voice as she glistened eagerly awaiting  the wisdom of the oracle.  The oracle flickered within the bank of mist that hovered over the luminescent water.

“At the base of the mountains in the temple of the deities is where you must find the Kundalini and become one with the fire element.”

“The fire element…you mean I must confront the serpent of fire,” she uttered with fear cloaking her like an eclipsed sun.

“Do not let your fears darken your light….how will you successfully complete the Rites in the denser plains?”  Immediately Kun-Li’s ambient light was absorbed by the mist; beckoning Kun-Li to ride the mist to the mountains of the moon. The mist weaved and coiled around her essence embracing her raising her as the mist traversed from the place of many waters with Kun-Li in its embrace.

Gazing from the mountain’s base was the fierce Kundalini.  Diamond shaped black onyx scales covered the powerful body that coiled around the mountain blocking its entrance.  The emerald eyes watched the approaching mist.  “Ahhhh another wishes to descend down into the abyss of dark matter.  Huuuummm how interesting.”  Patiently the serpent sat awaiting the descending mist.  Kun-Li could feel the atmosphere changing with every breath the serpent took as the mist swayed back and forth with her essence.  Kun-Li wondered how the serpent would react; considering none of the others returned from the denser plains.  Kun-Li attempted to fight back the fear that threatened to dominate. 

“I can smell your apprehension and almost taste the fear that threatens to ravish you.”  Kun-Li paused debating whether or not to approach the serpent that had been destined to swallow up the bringers of fear with its fire. 

“Tell me….shell I devour you now or later,” he hissed spraying fire with every word burning away the mist that had concealed her essence dropping her to the ground. 

Kun-Li’s illumination flickered frantically; being so close to the serpent’s muzzle.

“If you devour me I will not be able to fulfill my destiny.”

“But it is my destiny to devour fear….after all I am Kundalini,” he boasted.

Kun-Li thought intently,”I must master my fear,” over and over Kun-Li repeated like some melodic mantra until the flickering illumination became an ambient and a steady glow.

“Immmmpresssive,” the serpent hissed, “so tell me….what is it that is one with the darkness?  If you answer correctly you may mount the Kundalini… but do not let your ignorance doom you.”
Kun-Li thought long and hard before answering.  The serpent’s head weaved back and forth waiting for an answer with its unblinking emerald eyes gazing over her making her feel uneasy as his tongue darted in and out in an attempt to distract her. 

Kun-Li’s illumination began to pulsate brighter, “it is in the darkness where all colors are one.”

“Immmmpresssive Kun-Li you have earned the right to mount Kundalini, but before doing so remember….other worlds can be terrifying so remember to always master your fear and you will prevail as we descend into the lower realms; there we will rise up burning away all lower base instincts opening the way to the seven bridges of consciousness of the temple up to its apex gaining enlightenment fulfilling our destiny.” 

So with one swift leap Kun-Li mounted the great serpent where they became one raising up to the apex of the temple of deities in a great ball of fire.

Instantly his attention was snapped back to the monsoon’s violent rains and rushing waters.  However, his fear seemed to dissipate as he looked out on to a storm that appeared to bypass them with the Ganges gently carrying them along its currents as if the meager structure was somehow transformed into a seafaring vessel.  He looked at Miraku incredulously,” it is the will of the ancestors,” she said sitting back smiling.
I hope you have enjoyed another story from Another reality and thanks for visiting   

Universal law and writer's block

Universal law Dictates you don't have to believe in it and you don't have to like it....it is what it is. It applies to artists, skate boarders,doctors Buddhist Muslims, Christians everyone, no one is

exempt from  universal laws.  There's an old saying that goes you are what you eat.  Well for writers you write what you vibrate. What does your environment say about you, because it's a reflection of you.  The people you choose to be in your life, not the ones you can't, like family; your choices. Ask yourself are these individuals supportive of your writing endeavors, or are they complaining and ridiculing; like most non-creators do? These are the aspects that determine how you vibrate.  If you don't have the best perspective of yourself or your work no one else will.  Sometimes you have to write for you first.  When you begin this journey avoiding the frustrations that fall along your path. The universe is a willing component to aid you; it will reflect back to you exactly who you are in the form of people places and things even situations and circumstances. Did you ever notice when you feel bad hanging in that negative zone how negative people, situations, and circumstances just find their way to you; almost like a heat seeking missile. You could be at the park, the market, the movies,out in traffic some how the negative beasties find you.  Ironic...

It's extremely important to check ourselves, not physically but the emotion meter, because you attract what you feel.  So many times we're not aware of our own vibrations which emanate from our thoughts.  Thoughts are very powerful.  What you think of yourself is extremely important.  What you think of the work you create is the key to the success you'll attract.  Constantly doubting yourself or your work can be the demise of the creativity factory.  It's the main ingredient of writers block; a writer's greatest nemesis. Another writer's foe is negativity and  un-solicited  opinions accompanied by jealousies from well meaning friends and family accomplices to the nemesis writer's block. Remember everything is vibration.

To shield and protect the unborn ideas of future projects is to start with guarding your own feelings and thoughts.  When you feel bad you attract more of the same.  When you feel good you attract you attract just that.  You bring about what you think about, and what you talk about. Check it out the better you feel the better it gets. Yeah I know easier said than done in these times when stress, and frustration seem to rule.  It's only because we don't monitor what it is we focus on, or what our conversations are about, even down to what the media feeds us on a daily basis. most times it determines our vibration and frequency.  You have to start monitoring the info your being fed, because you bring about what you think about.  Long term negative feelings and thinking have quite a bit of history, in other words it's built up in momentum; like bad habits  along life's road.

These are the monsters that stalk creativity, and they have homies, road dogs, and partners in crime called fear, jealousy, envy, and hate a very dangerous element.  It totally shuts down the intuitive abilities with the creative instincts. And please by all means avoid the intellectually twisted who believe they have the market cornered  on all knowledge and information.  Your guidance should come from those who are sincere in offering their wisdom to you.  we all make mistakes along the road to greatness but we must find our way through quiet reflection. Find your zone of self satisfaction in other words find something that feels good to you and begin to make a habit of focusing on it. Practice staying in that zone even if its only five minutes a day.  Be cognizance of what you think about...what you focus on. Keep in mind words are very powerful whether you use them against yourself or for your advancement through positive affirmations.  Everything has a vibration it's universal law.  Remember that old saying "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me" really? Defamation of character, slander, rumors, baring false wittiness; just words huh. Words have power, why not use them to empower yourself and your work.  

And last but not least... avoid burn out and learn the art of chillology it goes a long way.  

I hope you've enjoyed this article from 

Another reality.  Stay tuned for other thought provoking articles and short stories from Another reality                   

   

Octavius Abraxus

What Does the future hold for us?  Can you even imagine the far future where you are now an ancient ancestor.  The pyramid builders of ancient Egypt left their mark upon the world centuries after they departed this physical world, and now they're ancient ancestors.  The Dogon of West Africa were astronomers from their early beginnings.  Their ancestors discovered the  Sirius minor star constellation.  Their entire spiritual beliefs are submerged in a cosmological and celestial origins like  many of the West African ethnic groups along the Atlantic coast. Let's say for a minute we speculate what it would be like for these ancient people existing in another reality a futuristic reality.  What would there world be like what would there reality consist of?  Knowing their history; their struggles and what we've learned from there past. Let's create a speculative story set a millennium ahead of our time space continuum.  After all this is Another reality where short stories and or thought provoking articles populate this blog space.  Thinking outside the box  is crucial for stories from Another reality.  No one tells you what's acceptable or appropriate for your thought process.  You creative Sci-Fi writers reading this I'm sure you can appreciate have your freedom to engage  the mechanisms of your creativity. This post is simply an expression to tell a story about how one would view the situations and circumstances of those who lived centuries before our time reincarnated into the far future.  With every story there lies another story to be told.  When you write  remember all that came before you everything you learned and speculate"what if" as the story unfolds.

      

The room resonated with anger, and resentment.  Hovering in mid air the holographic images of another existence became the undeniable object of contempt as its images were observed and judged.  Images flashed by one after another of a place that vibrated on a lower dimension void of illumination.  The counsel of architects continued their observations of the disturbing holographic images before them with tension filling the space faster than it was able to be filtered out by the mood stabilizers.

“In the name of Abraxus we can not allow this to go on,” a voice bellowed out.  Suddenly the bio sensor’s audible alarm sounded with the holographic image revealing another view; an energy force emerging through the vortex’s center.

“Status,” another voice demanded.  Immediately synthesizing etheric sensors activated; scanning the dense mist-like energy form.  Only after a couple seconds could a human face be recognized bearing great anxiety within it becoming denser with the rest of its body.

“What sector is that?”

“Sector nine sir.”

“Now they’re descending on to the inner sanctum? This is unacceptable…everything will be thrown out of balance and order.  We cannot accommodate these lower vibratory rates,” the supreme architect complained,” they will plunge us into the world of shadows our world will become as theirs.”

The holographic generator continued to display numerous images of the lower realm with its occupants.  A world depleted of its spiritual essence existing on the brink of total annihilation through fear mongering, and religious dogma.  There were only a few who choose not to relinquish their infinite essence to trepidation propelled by lies which caused offensively distressing emotions of fear.  This small population of beings maintained their spiritual intelligence and managed to shield themselves from the powers to be, so when their cycle had been completed they would transition to the next cycle of evolution; unlike those who intentionally disrupted the cycle’s process out of despair.

The quantum architects continued observing the holographic screen and all its disturbing images of an influx of what was considered highly irregular, and undesirable.

“Computer… disengage,” he commanded.  Immediately the images faded leaving an atmosphere of contempt from an undesirable influx of what they considered to be a threat.

“This is unacceptable…this impending defilement of our world.  As supreme architect I am initiating the Centauri Seven protocol,” he proclaimed sending the room into a hushed and uncomfortable silence with the members exchanging looks with one another around the oval crystal that served as the holographic generator hovering before the 13 architects of the counsel of Abraxus.

“For celestial sake…we haven’t initiated the Centauri Seven protocol for over a millennium.  Do you realize what you’re doing Sirius?”

“Or what is at stake by taking such drastic measures,” another member interjected from across the oval crystal.

“You’re talking about re-instituting a practice we have little knowledge of.  It’s not feasible it’s very unpredictable,” a woman hissed with scorn dominating her face.

“So… would you prefer these abominations over running our world,” he questioned gesturing to the images displayed over head with his anger echoing through the spherical room silencing everyone.  His words forced them to take in consideration what consequences would befall them politically to disagree with him.   As he stood up pointing to the holographic images, the alarming scenes invoked feelings of fear and anxiety, “I believe it is best to do something instead of nothing.”  
Taking in the fearful faces he thought momentarily,” If you are willing…why not put the matter to democratic vote."  
Within minutes ten were in favor of executing the Centauri Seven protocol while the remaining three had their doubts over the decision and its outcome,” then so be it and may Abraxus have mercy on your soul for your trespasses,” a voice commented as they excused themselves.

“It is not I who trespass Tiberius,” he replied to the remaining counsel who disapproved the decision as they exited the room as uncertainty lingered.  "Finally a solution to a significant threat would now be initiated with cowards out of the way,” the supreme quantum architect thought to himself.

 “Rise up…it is time to eliminate what plagues our quality of existence.” Instantaneously the crystal changed its form to more of a circular shape as the remaining ten gathered around it with their hands extended out in front of them with their palms facing upward.  Suddenly an ambient light began to radiate from the center of their life lines reaching toward the ceiling forming an apex of energy as they descended deeper into a meditative state.  The room around them shifted mirroring the illuminated energy changing its frequency and vibration.

“It is time,” a melodic voice echoed.  In unison their thoughts became the collective reciting the ancient invocation.   Despite not having initiated the Centauri protocols in over a millennium the architects reached deep within their ancestral memories into the Akasic records of their DNA. “Abraxus the Omni potent opener of the celestial…as above so below microcosm of the macrocosm…what is present and what is not present.  Let the merging of light and darkness bring life and death.  We invoke those at the beginning of the millennium,” they chanted in unison.  Suddenly numerous flashes of what appeared to be black lightning struck the center of the crystal enacting the holographic screen to reveal dozens if not hundreds or even thousands of beings of another time and space flickering by so fast they appeared as a blur then suddenly and abruptly the images blended as one as it rotated on an invisible pedestal. The semi translucent figure before them appeared muscular with thick course long locks falling across her shoulders.  Her female form would not be denied its splendor and strength.  “A magnificent specimen,” Io commented.

“So… are we ready to proceed,” Sirius the supreme quantum architect asked the others; knowing their response.

“You have our well wishes…this is a task better suited for you and your associate assistant we would only be in the way.”

“Very well Ryzac,” he said as they all exited the room.

“Well Io…it’s up to us now.  Computer…enhance and render,” he commanded.  Several intense laser beams pierced the circular space where the image rotated at 360 degrees creating an outline of the semi translucent image, and then transporting it to a transparent horizontal cylinder to render and animate.  Back and forth the multi colored lasers swept across the translucent form creating its body’s many life supporting systems from its essence.

“This process may take a substantial amount of time I suggest we gather crucial Intel to launch the Centauri protocol,” computer co-ordinates from last incursion,” his voice reverberated over the buzz of the lasers.

“Quadrant 003D,” the computer droned in response to the question.

“Computer, co-ordinates prior to last incursion.”

Quadrant 002D…do you require additional co-ordinates?”

“Yes computer proceed to download to neural pathways.”  Then suddenly an audible alarm sounded.

“Computer on screen,” Io commanded as another image was revealed displaying another intruder crossing the gate way of the transitional bridge’s vortex.

“Computer activate gateway’s barrier, and keep them activated…in fact activate all barriers on every transitional bridge at 70%.”

“Do you think that would be adequate only 70%,” she asked.

“These are our main vortexes to the transitional bridges leading from the lower realms…its best to distribute the power equally until the protocol is initiated,” he responded before returning his attention back to the bio pod where the subject’s formation was completed.  Standing before the bio pod’s window he gaped down on to the magnificent completion of the being’s that would restore balance back to Adrastea.

“Computer… extraction mode,” he commanded. Slowly the bio pod rotated itself upright to a vertical position. Inside the being stood motionless completely covered in a silver metallic-like hue void of life. “It’s hard to believe we are at this cross roads initiating the Centauri Seven protocol I’m not sure if I’m completely comfortable with this...are you sure we are not over stepping our celestial boundaries Sirius?  We were originally placed here to monitor, observe, and categorize the numerous kinds of deaths as they correlated with the reincarnation cycles.”

“But these are not natural deaths,” he barked resenting her questioning his decision.

“According to whom… we do not dictate universal and celestial law.”

“If you were having such doubts and fears you should have cast your vote with the others and left with them.  Our world is being thrown out of balance with these intrusions. We have to restore the balance.  Can’t you see the chaos closing in on us… what they bring to our world will spread like a plague?  Their spirits are corrupt perpetuating a cycle of misery they will plunder us deep into the Void.” 
 Then suddenly the hiss of the bio pod demanded their attention as its front panel slid open exposing its occupant to the tension within the atmosphere.  Immediately her mouth opened wide sucking in vast amounts of air filling her lungs to their capacity before exhaling causing the metallic hue to shimmer slightly indicating the life sequence formation was complete.  The metallic eyelids slid open horizontally revealing one green eye and one brown with diamond shaped pupils that surveyed her surroundings taking in every detail.  Slightly tilting her head she also took in the audible vibrations that stimulated her inner eardrums.

“Life form on-line,” the computer droned interrupting their debate.  Quiet and thoughtful the being remained studying those who had invoked her essence to vainly replicate into a material form.  She remained still at first but then feeling the sensations of a physical body she began to self examine herself beginning with her hands; delicate yet powerful holding them out before the strange and unusual eyes.  She then turned her attention back to the architects observing the many emotions that coursed through them.  It wasn’t long before she dove into their mental thoughts,” this protocol is in conflict with the prime directive; no species’ destiny or evolution shall be altered eliminated or restricted,” she said shocking them into momentary silence as she stepped out of the pod,” why have you invoked my essence?  You have lowered my rate of vibration by materializing me to exist on this plain of existence.” 
Io and Sirius stepped closer to the being,” we regret our action; however it is crucial that this protocol be initiated,” he said hoping there would be no resistance.

 Io sensed resentment resonating from the being,” we mean you no harm we only seek peace for our world…and restore the balance, and then you will be returned.”  The being tilted her head to the side,” an imbalanced created by whom?”  The two looked incredulous at one another.

“My name is Io what should we call you,” she said avoiding the question.

She began to answer and then stopped; thinking of the question,” you invoke me and you do not know who I am,” she answered indignantly with a menacing air circling about her.  Standing before the pod it seemed as though her physical body increased in size and density,” to which life cycle are you referring?”  
Confusion momentarily shifted their thoughts; wondering if she would become combative or even confrontational as they considered her question.

“What life cycle,” Io repeated confused.

“Yes…I am known by many names and many things.  Duality is my nature, dark and light, benevolent and malevolent, destroyer and creator, masculine and feminine, peace and war,” she declared un-nerving them.

Io and Sirius stepped back distancing themselves so their words would not be over heard.  Io leaned closer to Sirius,” this is not good…they warned us about the Centauri Seven protocol,” she worried keeping her eyes locked on the being standing only a short distance away. 

“Get a hold of yourself…we don’t want it sensing your fear, or any other negative vibrations.  Apparently it’s lacking its Gnosis directive so we’ll just program her for our intended uses.  That is what the Centauri Seven protocol is.”

“Are you sure Sirius?”

“Of course I am.  Computer prepare consciousness 4771 for download.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the silver figure responded detaching herself from the neural sensors at the base of her neck; now able to move about unhindered,” I require no downloads I am quite capable of executing your protocols despite their conflicting aspects.  You will refer to me as Octavious Seven,” she interrupted with an expressionless face. 

“Finally…co-operation, and I thought we’d have to discard its consciousness and reconfigure it,” Sirius thought to himself unaware that his thoughts were being probed as an ulterior and counter measure began to take root in the base of her subconscious routine directives.  Feeling over confident Sirius proceeded to program Octavious with the protocol’s perimeters and co-ordinances.

“Do you understand your prime directives? Are you in sync with the co-ordinates we’ve just downloaded into your cerebral cortex…if so prepare for immediate descent,” he said. 

Io escorted her to the transport platform with its glass casing enclosing her within the chamber.  Immediately her subroutine perimeters paired with the mainframe computer.  Instantly a piercing light exploded from the chamber as Octavious Seven no longer occupied it.

“Success Io…we have succeed in initiating the Centauri Seven protocol… now to inform the counsel of our success,” he boasted. However Io had her doubts that she kept concealed as she accompanied him to meet with the counsel.

The falling sensation followed by the blinding light, intense pressure and increased temperature erupted into excruciating and agonizing pain as she was catapulted through time and space.  Her first response was to scream out in horror feeling as though her physical body was being devoured by a thousand shards of metal.  Gritting her teeth she wondered,” why she had been chosen?”   Anger, resentment, and animosity all fought for dominance in her directives as regret filled her neural pathways; fighting to purge the emotion from her being she felt helpless as the emotions were never eradicated from her programming. 

The direct link to the computer became severed engaging the audible sensor.  “Alert…alert file corruption… alert system directives corrupted…Octavious Seven off-line…Octavious Seven off-line,” the computer droned to the vacant and empty space as she were being plunged deeper into a multi-dimensional world where darkness dominated despite the twin suns being at their zenith.  Suddenly she found herself wading in what appeared to be a body of water she could not distinguish as a yellowish mist hovered

invoking feelings of disgust.  Quickly she exited the foul smelling body of liquid.  In the distance she observed the populace through the dense foliage where she immediately concealed herself as she attempted to access her data network; only to be met with emptiness and no prime directive to refer to. Submerged into an unfamiliar existence of energy currents a multitude of feelings and emotions circled her.  Fear, hate, despair, sorrow, and confusion, and all demanded to posses her. 
”This is not my mission,” she thought even though it was still unclear as to why she was where she was as she  moved closer to the metropolis she observed from a distance.  The ground felt cold and hard beneath her feet despite the metallic covering that dominated her from top to bottom. Confusion stalked her as she fought against the barrage of unpleasant sensations and feelings that agitated her with her own resentment building.  She didn’t appreciate being snatched from an existence of bliss to be cast down into foreboding,” what was it I was intended for; surely not this…I know deep within I was not to suffer in this place of agony,” she thought to herself feeling weighed down by the emotional state of the dimension.  Soon the ever growing lower vibration began taking on a life with in her birthing the need for revenge on whoever was responsible for her plight.  It burned through her hot and acidic; the desire to exact her retribution.  But who is responsible…where is this place...where did I come from,” the questions continued.

The computer’s audible alarm finally gained the attention of the quantum architects.  As Io and Sirius returned from informing the counsel of their short lived success they were bombarded with,” systems failure…data corruption…reconfigure directives immediately to eradicate data corruption,” the computer continued sending shock and horror over the pair. 

“This can’t be possible,” he said through gritted teeth rushing over to the mainframe computer.

“What are we going to do?  We have to inform the counsel immediately,” she said.

“This is not an option informing them when we can correct this ourselves,” he shouted rushing over to the holographic generator manipulating images and rotating them while scaling and re-sizing what appeared to be numerous circuit boards as the computer’s audible alarm continued identifying the corrupted data’s directives,” will you shut down that blasted alarm,” he shouted.  But Io was insistent on getting her point across,” we cannot conceal this…its treason.  It must be brought to the attention of the counsel so new measures can be initiated,” she insisted raising her voice over the alarm.  Then suddenly it became silent sending a sigh of relief over the architects.

“Thank the supreme being,” Io exhaled.

“New prime directive successfully downloaded…corrupt file deleted and purged from system...system now reactivating its new directives,” the computer droned.

“I wonder what happened,” Io asked confused and relieved at the same time.

“I don’t know...some glitch in the system…I don’t know, could have been the change in realities.  The only thing that matters is that it’s corrected now, and Io if you ever make the mistake of second guessing or questioning my authority again it will be your last mistake.”

Octavious Seven began to experience a new influx and surge of data through her neural network, but her core emotions remained as her body shut down collapsing her to the ground appearing lifeless.  It wasn’t long before her metallic body was discovered. 
The area was then scanned for additional evidence to substantiate the validity of the discovery then transported.  The lone discredited academic scholar; now outcast moved about in stealth with his newly discovered find avoiding the dreadful Void part of the population who were neither dead nor alive. They sought the consciousness of non-being escaping their designated reality and reincarnation cycle through what was commonly referred to as walking the Void.

 Immediately the old rusted terrain vehicle found its way back to the compound; a place that served as a scrap yard for various metals and alloys but at the same time it was place of sanctuary filled with invaluable treasures for him.  The twisted monuments towered up into sky at times appearing as metal mountains surrounded by machines that constantly ate the metal day and night reducing it into more manageable pieces.  Puddles of oil and water from the black rain dominated the ground creating a slick yet muddy surface that at times resembled an insurmountable lagoon, but the terrain vehicle was accustom and unaffected by the surface as he drove through the compound to a secluded area.  He then backed the vehicle up to the trunk of what appeared to be an old rundown automobile. Quickly popping the latch and opening the trunk a flight of steel stairs was revealed leading down into an underground bunker.  Looking around making sure no one was watching him he hoisted his find up over shoulder with a grunt as the weight was almost unmanageable.  Descending the metal steps a great sense of excitement flooded over him.  Reaching the bottom he laid her body down on the floor in exhaustion then flopped down on the car seat that served as a couch.  The modern and ancient occupied the bunker from Ancestral and Shinto shrines to an elaborate assortment of computer parts and equipment surrounded by various religious relics.  Breathing heavily he gazed down at his find wrapped in the white shroud,” I knew I’d find it sooner or later the celestial oracles were right as always,” he whispered kneeling down beside Octavious, then he noticed movement as her chest began to rise and fall.  
“So soon…the resurrection process,” he whispered reaching for the ritual knife from the alter.  Slowly he cut through the shroud he had wrapped her in revealing her face covered with a silver metallic alloy that appeared as skin he’d never seen before, but the magnificent beauty would not be denied as she seemed to radiate.  His long and fixed stare alerted her to his presence with her eyes sliding open revealing one brown and one green.  Her presence now credited and validated his lifelong work and his theories despite the unorthodox and unethical methods he instituted that cost him his reputation.  But at that crystal clear moment he felt exonerated.  
“Finally…it’s come to pass,” he said looking down on the face that studied him intently.

“I’m Roko...and you are safe here…how long have you been here…how did you come to our world?  Is it true you are here to restore our perception and elevate the frequency here, and restore the balance? We have fallen so low; lower than any being should be.  Even with the twin suns it’s still dark and cold.”

Roko’s emotion seemed to resonate within her; sensing his despair she could not help but to reflect back what he felt as a single mercury tear fell from the corner of her eye knowing that her prime directive was in no way to be compatible with the world in which she found herself.  For the first time in over a millennium she found herself morally conflicted,” how does one save one world and condemn another,” she thought to herself looking into the face of the man who had brought her into his sanctuary.  Her silence propelled him to tell her of the plight of his world Eta Aqurids as he sat back and wondered where to begin exactly; remembering the splendor and beauty that once dominated everywhere before the Void intruded transforming everything into an obscure suffuse existence feeding off of the life force of others until only suffering was left accompanied by fear and loathing.  He remembered all too often how the Void preyed on those of a higher vibration quickly turning them to something less than human; nearly everyone he knew and loved suffered; leaving a subculture of conscious survivors who remained in hiding.  His pain was pushed through his words invoking emotions that should not have been there as she took in his memories.  The muscles in her face hardened as a frown developed across her forehead.  Noticing her change in expression he caught himself. 
“Please forgive me,” he said cutting away the rest of the shroud releasing her from its confines.  Sitting up she inhaled deeply acclimating to her environment, as she stood up stepping away from the shroud her nude feminine figure caused his mouth to drop.  Quickly he turned away as not to offend her.  While his back was turned away from her she took in the data from the computers and religious relics that dominated the underground dwelling.  She was not prepared for the Intel gathered,” Octavious Centauri prophecy,” she whispered in an epiphany that nearly over whelmed her,” Eta Aqurids…water barer,” she said remembering the body of water where she found herself emerging from.  Reflecting back to her prime directives she felt deceived.  It all began to fall into place; not all who engaged in the walk of the Void were evil.  Some just simply desired to put an end to the suffering of humanity by turning the cycle of re-incarnation to humanities’ favor; attempting to restore the balance of their world,” she thought before she began to explain her circumstances surrounding the situation. 
“I am Octavious Seven and I was sent here from Adrastea; however my origins are far more ancient than the beings that invoked my essence; an essence they have no understanding of.  I have no beginning and no end.  I am both dark and light…creation and destruction.  I was sent here to eliminate a perceived incursion upon Adrastea.  However... the prime directives are in a state of conflict due to the distortion of truth by those who call themselves the quantum architects.  Their selfish judgment of other life forms combined with arrogance pride and prejudice have created a great paradox causing the vibratory rate of this dimensions to become conflicted,” she said mirroring the ancient scrolls of the prophecy.  Roko gasped at the accuracy of her words as they also continued to accredit his years of his work.  His conviction had paid off despite the isolation and ridicule,” they all thought I was crazy…crazy in a world that had long gone mad…to consider oneself to be mentally adjusted to a profoundly ill society is no measure of wellness,” he declared then remembering something of vast importance,” in the name of Osiris now I know what it’s for.  They all thought I was mad…living in the scrap yard.  Do you know what treasures are buried here?”  Octavious looked at him incredulously.

“The prophecy also spoke of the great shift…please come this way,” he said inviting her to follow him deeper into the bunker.  Standing in another section of the bunker the two stood before a humongous object covered by a dusty tarp.  
Snatching away its covering,” ta daaa I call it the arc…it’s a transponder,” he grinned,” its harmonic generator emits high frequencies from an encoded signal that propels the hyper-drive to manipulate molecules of anything to even reversing the positions of dimensions in any point in space. There was only one flaw…only someone with an adamantine exoskeleton exterior could operate the arc,” he grinned ready to resume his project now that he had a suitable candidate.  It wasn’t long before the arc’s systems were on-line with its huge energy requirements taxing the generators he’d built; tapping into underground cables piggy backing off of the metropolis’s energy source.  
“Years I spent building this…and I had no idea…it was like I was just a vessel for another intelligence I couldn’t help myself.  I just had to build it.” 

She looked at him intently before speaking,” it appears that you are an advanced spirit for your species...far more evolved.  Scanning your DNA strand sequence its highly intricate stands indicate  your abilities far exceed the abilities of the general populace here therefore you were the logical choice to build the multi inter-dimensional platform,” she reasoned bringing clarity to the forefront.

“All these years I thought I was just going insane at times, but I held steadfast, and you’re living proof standing before me…thank you Octavious.”

“Under false pretenses the quantum architects invoked my essence while I sleep in the spirit world resting in peace for having fulfilled my destiny.  Now those with less than honorable intentions would use me with no intention of returning me to the state from which they invoked me,” she said looking off into empty space wading through emotions she had not felt in a thousand years.

“Well guess what…the script is about to get flipped,” he laughed.

“Such a colorful vernacular with much meaning…I do believe I understand the concept of flipping the script.”

As the twin suns were making their descent Roko and Octavious continued amassing enormous amounts of energy to power the arc, periodically the metropolises’ power grids would fluctuate causing the lights to flicker.  Fortunately the metropolises’ power grids were always unstable to some degree since the civil conflict.  “We’re almost done Octavious...soon you’ll be able to return to your place within the universe.”

“But not without fulfilling your world’s prophecy and distributing the retribution that is owed to those responsible for their deceit and treachery.”  Her words sent a cold chill through him,” there is nothing worse than an angry universal force,” he thought to himself making last minute adjustments to the arc’s computer.

“You have only been here for one cycle of our twin suns and have managed to bring about the possibilities of much positive change on many levels, but most of all you’ve restored my faith so I can begin to elevate… so much doubt had plagued my existence and others, but now we can all begin to heal.”

“Roko you are what you think you are.  And more than what others think of you…perhaps we will see each other again in another existence,” she said stepping onto the platform. Within seconds the cylindrical shaped container slid down over her and the platform with an intense energy wave emitting from the small explosion of light sending everything in darkness; momentarily knocking Roko unconscious.  Octavious felt herself being propelled in a forward motion; un-like her previous experience that was excruciatingly painful.  Closing her eyes she inhaled deeply upon opening them again she found herself back on Adrastea among its population; a population that enjoyed their wealth and abundance at the expense of the others cast beneath them.  A smug air permeated the atmosphere as disapproving eyes probed her and questioned her presence among them.  A world of such beauty and splendor fell in complete contrast to the attitudes of a judgmental and opinionated populace.  As the tension increased the glaring eyes conveyed contempt.   Immediately her trans-configuration directives launched her into transparency sequence.  Disappearing from view she transported herself to another sector standing before the vortex’s transitional bridge of sector 003D.  She could hear and feel others trapped,” please help us,” the voices pleaded faintly. 
 “How did they know I was here,” she thought to herself remaining clear and translucent.  The faint whispers came again as if they were carried on the wind,” help us please… we were trapped and made to endure this corruption unable to ascend to reincarnate.”

“I will help you and all the others…not only the ones imprisoned here but your world as well,” she said before bursting into an explosion of light releasing the corporeal forms from their prisons around Adrastea.

“Alert…alert incursions released protocol Centauri Seven redacted… protocol Centauri Seven redacted.  Impending danger,” the computer droned alerting the quantum architects as they rushed to the holographic generator to witness the horrifying images of Octavious Seven’s unexpected return to Adrastea.

Turning from the holographic computer,” no…it can’t be,” Sirius shouted in terror falling to his knees as Octavious towered over him within the flash of a micro second. 

“You lied architect,” her voice thundered with explosions of light as the floor beneath them rumbled while great cracks cut into the interior of the walls.

“Please in the name of Abraxus I beg you.”

“You are not worthy of speaking the name of the one that is the many the giver and taker of life.  I told you I am the one that is the many Octavious Abraxus known by many names.  Seven cycles your were given to right your wrongs and restore the balance back to Eta Aqurids but instead you choose deceit and treachery in a vain attempt in manipulating forces you could not possibly begin understand… let along control architect.  For your treachery you and your world will live the fate you had intended for others,” her voice exploded violently altering the two worlds’ realities in a single flash of light reversing their dimensions positions in time and space. 

As Roko regained his consciousness he felt unusually different the heaviness that had weighed him down for so long seemed to have vanished.  He then noticed a scroll he had never seen before in his grip,” Octavious Centauri prophecy of the 7^th cycle,” he read aloud and hardly believing his eyes he ran up the bunker’s steps to the surface and dropped to his knees as the light from the sun washed over him and everything in Eta Aqurids.

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