Full moon night

[wikk]

Three, four hours? ... God ... it's already noon ... and the day is so still .... so hot ... you hear the sparrows chirping ... the pigeons walking on the roof above your room, cooing ... so beautiful a day ... so beautiful ...



Sixth hour ... have you been sleeping? ... have you dozed for a while? … it's happened there, it's surely happened already! ... You know how it is ... how it's done ... you know how it was done to your Saviour ... Please ... please ... please don't suffer ... please don't suffer! ... you whisper ... Do you remember ... she went ... she was there ... His mother ... before His Cross ... she suffered with Him ... …



Do you want to go there... do you want to see him? … not yet, not now! … In the evening ? ... when the sun has set, no-one would see ... or now, maybe? ... in the hour of greatest heat ... people don't go out then ... it's too hot ... but they will see you ... the guards will see ... they will see you going out through the gate ... as you walk along the rocky road in the dust ... there, where the vultures are circling ... there you are going ... it's very close ... just outside the walls, behind the gate ... but maybe you will go? .. you will say goodbye to your son ... will you see him again?



you get up ... the street is empty, the heat ... oh, you have no strength ... you lean against the wall ... you have no strength ... he used to run around here when he was little ... and from there he came when he visited you ... walking ... down the way from your rich owner's house... so pretty ... smiling at you ... an ordinary boy ... so recently ... and a slender young man, he was so handsome... growing to be a man, your son ... maybe a slave like you, maybe a poor one like you ... but, your son ... was lucky ... he worked, lived with your owner, he could visit you ... he went to the congregation for the prayers ...

he smiled at the girls ... and you wanted for him ... you had already found him a fiancée ... you had arranged with her parents, they had agreed ... he was soon to become her husband ... your owner had already agreed ... you were about to tell him ... the two young people were about to meet ... he knew this girl ... from your community ...



.. mother ... mother ... your son ... won't he come here again? .. won't he come home to you any more! ... Jesus ... Jesus ... You are risen ... You say that we shall all rise ...



Will he come? Will my son come here? …

no he won't come .. he won't resurrect like Him .. .. ..



Will you go there mother?... do you want to see him? .. was he the only one to be executed there today? … Don't you want to see your son, mother?

... no, you won't go ... this heat, in the middle of the day ... the sun is high ... but you're trembling as if from cold, and you come back ... empty street ... in the room again ... you lock the door ... you bolt it with a peg so that no one can come in ...

 

[wikk]

don't you want to be there? don't you want to see? ...

But they went there ... those from your street ... your close neighbours ... those who belong with you to the Nazarene community ... those with whom you go to prayer meetings... ... they were there to see it! ... they already know ... they already know about it - those who saw it .. those who were there ... they saw it! And each one still has an image in their eyes, imprinted in their memories...

and they're whispering to each other ... and they could tell you, but they don't want to ... or maybe they do want to? ... they're only whispering to each other what they saw ... and they will all whisper to your community what has happened... what has happened to one of us ... to this son of one who confesses Him ... they're whispering that he denied Him... but they knew very well who his mother confessed ... and that they are doing this to the son of a woman who follows the Nazarene ...



Mary! … Mary! ... poor mother ... your son, Nadgab .. Adgan .. not given to God ... better for him if you had drowned him like a kitten when he was born...

 

[wikk]

thank you for "likes" and reading my story. It has been placed in the Archive by Madiosi.
The text there is perhaps more organized in the layout of the paragraphs and therefore easier to read.

 

[phlebas]

The bond of a mother and son can be a powerful one. Imagine any mother seeing her dear son taken away to be executed, to be nailed and stripped and lifted to suffer an agonising ordeal naked and in public. Would she want to go to him? Would it be better to stay away? Would he be shamed to know that she was watching, or would he crave her motherly sympathy, even at a distance? A terrible fate, for both of them.

 

[wikk]

I almost have forgotten that long time ago I opened this thread as first of my. I think that is time to reviving it – maybe more for myself, because this thread is quite personal, related to some of my own ideas that are not necessarily interesting to most people...

So why don't I leave these matters for myself alone? Maybe it's feature of human nature that we need to show some things outside. After all, this what is in our head is not enough for us - so we express it in text, graphics... first only for personal use and finally we want to show someone, even if timidly - even when we know that it is not great, but it means something to us...

As small example, I attach here very little, mini story – or rather some kind of thought connected with this picture from our forum which influenced me almost at once when I was looking at it. It excited me because it was fitting as if perfectly into the whole of my fantasies - something as touch of my magic destiny from "another world".
Please don't pay attention to mistakes or imperfections here - I wrote it in my native language for myself and now I've translated it quickly. And this is never ideal ...


Was it only dream?

I was then for sure under twenty – how old I was ?
I don't remember ...
Was that when I was marked? – or was it even earlier ? Maybe before I was born ??
Who knows it?
Who really?! ...

I was travelled then with my Roman owner, together with group of other slaves or workers. During this travel we stop for a moment in a place intended for this purpose, in a camp served by nomads, we take advantage of their hospitality. It was a short break in the journey before we'll move on. With those nomads was my owner in cooperation ... … …

it's late afternoon, we are still waiting and can join the bizarre show that begins, lured by the voices, the laughter, the music of the nomads...

… and there's a girl dancing there, the one in the picture - she's probably owned by these nomads. She is young, very thin, wearing nothing! - has only a veil on her head ... she dances without embarrassment, she is certainly a dancer ...

And yes, I try not to look, .. but I peek and look and look away and look again, I don't want to leave, run away despite my embarrassment ... the music is noisy and she spins fast ... deftly, wonderfully moves , her dance is unearthly for me, I can't take my eyes off her anymore! I hear men talking to each other - they say it's a goat dance, a dance where the bride chooses her fiancé - she chooses a goat of her own, who will serve her and who will be her fiancé, she dances for the goat she chooses ... on which she will ride ... they laugh jokingly, say this is here tradition …

It all happens just like in this picture...but then she notices me and she dance towards me and in front of me... I'm enchanted and and so much embarrassed that I can't even move, I don't know what to do, I just stand there and blush... everyone around laugh much louder and call me that I am chosen by her, that she chooses me … …. it's short moment, it is just a show for the entertainment of the guests we are, nothing more. The girl disappears somewhere quickly … and we must move on soon.

Nothing more – but … she has chosen me - for herself... she has chosen me from this crowd, I am feeling this is something more …
She, so beauty for me, her movements so deft, so fluid... I can’t stop thinking of her!
Of her slim body, of her black curly hair decorated with white flowers and white shells, her dark eyes staring at me, … a white veil on her head, veil covers her hair and her full, carmine lips...

Unknown feeling inside me,
I can’t stop thinking of her …
she have chosen me for her fiancé, for her goat .. I should be happy, but I am afraid … She disappeared so quickly …
…

I dance for you
You I choose,
I, the Bride,
You, my Beloved ……


She marked me, now I know,
for the sacrifice, for scapegoat, for Unholy Golgotha …
She ? or was it even earlier?
Maybe before I was born …
Who knows it?

 

[wikk]

Thank you very much for reading and "liking" my new text.
And especially for the "loves".
It honors me in some special way because I didn't expect it.
Thank you very much again !

 

[wikk]

I would like to share with You graphic which I found long ago, somewhere in Internet. This is not well known, little work (probably some kind of play, meaningless?) of well known artist form my country. I'm not really sure about that, because Internet can surprise us with its uncertainty - let it be my secret.
In any case it is interesting idea in my opinion - for this first day of spring ...

 

[Eulalia]

I would like to share with You graphic which I found long ago, somewhere in Internet. This is not well known, little work (probably some kind of play, meaningless?) of well known artist form my country. I'm not really sure about that, because Internet can surprise us with its uncertainty - let it be my secret.
In any case it is interesting idea in my opinion - for this first day of spring ...

Zdzisław Beksiński? or Łukasz Banach?

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Writing well in a foreign language is very hard for anyone. You've done well enough to get a lot of positive comments (I could not do as well in French, German, or Spanish), and it's certainly more pleasant to read than, say, James Joyce or William Faulkner. The less than proper English in Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn or Puddin' Head Wilson proved highly popular. Content over from, I'd say.

 

[wikk]

Łukasz Banach was, as far as I know, a friend and student of Zdzisław Beksiński - his only student ...
But the name Banach is associated primarily with the world-famous Polish mathematician Stefan Banach

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Łukasz Banach was, as far as I know, a friend and student of Zdzisław Beksiński - his only student ...
But the name Banach is associated primarily with the world-famous Polish mathematician Stefan Banach

Yes, Banach spaces. They have applications in quantum mechanics.

 

[wikk]

Maybe this text will seem strange, bizarre and inappropriate for this forum - but for me it is appropriate to present it here - I have no other place, and after a long time I decided to show it here similarly to the previous "story" (Was it only dream?) from this as if "personal" thread.

It was created under the influence of graphics found on Deviant Art of an author unknown to me (I saved his works without remembering his name - I apologize for this and for the possible abuse of using his works) It's difficult... I wanted to show it... I had great problems with translating it, it's not necessarily successful …

 

[wikk]

In the hunters' full moon ..


It was in ancient times, eons ago, when people were created to serve gods, and gods... gods wrestled with each other, fought with each other, ... and people, created in their image, only and only - imitated them...

The sun did not shine on its own, irreversibly guided by the laws of nature - no, not at all, just as the wind did not blow carried by the laws of nature, ...snow, storm, hurricane - all this was their work, an expression of their will …

Yes - back then, in the ancient times, when everything was compacted, organized, arranged, and it didn't settle on its own at all.

Will it be determined and when? – so forever… and finally – for the world to breathe peace!?…



Ishtar's Storm, Her storm, Her hunt, Her fun in terror, in strength, when the world of all beings and scared people hid like a hare in the baulk which the first farmers first marked out, plowing their fields...

And Her servants, Her dogs, property of Her, Her servants of war - harvested slaves for Her, for magnification of Her power, for manifestation the glory of Her, for Her delight! - because She was the Queen, the Queen of Love - oh, the world of living and mortal beings continued thanks to Her, creating new generations, ensuring the continuity of life, but in the competition, inequality of the types of beings of one species, itself was creating Her the Queen of competition, of fight, making Her the Queen of War for the human race, for is it not in the ecstatic union of bodies, in this delightful act of fertility, that the fiercest struggle takes place there?

Queen of Love, Queen of War, Goddess of Beauty, Goddess of Senses, Desire... to whom lovers pray... Queen equally fearful and terrifying...

Her Storm, Her Hunt, Her Fun She Likes! She let her dogs go hunting, they gather slaves for her, they burn their houses, they drive the game before their new Mistress, slaves of all races, sexes, of all ages, everyone will be useful to Her for something – Oh! Look, gods! – here She triumphs, we are Her servants, we collect human beings for Her, we take them from you, other gods, so that they can now be Hers, to serve not yours but Her will, – brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, children who were yours - oh gods, She will be the Great Goddess among you... will you dare to compete with Her? Can you defeat Her?!

Ishtar storm - we divide the human crowd - this one for the plow to till Her fields, that she for the loom to weave Her clothes, these for shepherding of Her great flocks, and those for Her to build temples, to serve in Her temple...

A new crowd of slaves, we choose again - you, this one, that one and this here, those all to the next pen for the next marking - all with a new destiny...

… screams, cries and wails, loved ones, families separated, new in a new group, we are under a storm, we were kidnapped, our god did not protect us... did we serve him wrong???

But didn't we pray to her too? Neglecting our gods, not being fully devoted to them?

And here she... the Queen... sees our prey, our prey for her sake!

Human beings gathered together, of every gender, of every age, kneeling and wailing, moaning, crying, deprived of everything, naked, ... in terror they raise their hands folded in prayers, begging for mercy … here is a herd of animals by us - Lady's dogs, caught - human beings … She looks at them, each one individually, with her all-knowing, lustful gaze... she looks at their naked bodies, looks into their eyes, their thoughts, their souls, assessing them... She looks at them, feasting on their fear. ... and chooses and marks ... every has invisible mark burned away by Her gaze, fate is sealed … only another God can change it... but will He be able to? Will He be greater than Her?! Greater than the Queen of Desire, Pleasure, Beauty, Lust... Greater than the Lady of the Senses, the Lady of the Stars... the Lady of Eternal Babylon?


...

 

[wikk]

……

….

…

Here I dreamed of primeval eternity... my beginning...
In the desert wasteland... I - a boy, a youth, already thinking about adulthood... I was sitting on a small rock... dreaming …
I dreamed of my future... my fate in subsequent versions, views of events...
and I was a hero … like every boy dreams …
a heroic warrior... a brave falcon … covered with armour, decorated...
in Babylonian style …

I, a lad full of bravery ... with a sword, with my bow and arrow sure ... a quiver full …
... and they rode ... through the desert ... towards me, to meet the brave hero ...
who is already stretching his bow .. and certainty of the target .. .. oh, how accurately he will hit .. they on his horses, approaching .. the direction, the sure flight of the arrows …

and then .. the aimed hand begins to tremble .. .. and hesitates .. the mind doubts the accuracy ... and before it is released .. he already misses ... he knows it ... he does not release the arrow …

a boy, a young man, shy, dreaming, sitting crouched on a small rock, and the riders are already above him so scared .. .. and they take him .. a young man .. a beggar boy ... barely clothed .. brown from the hot sun ... take him into chains.. .. they lead him on a rope, a new slave, captured in their hunting expedition .. to the horse of a larger, more important rider.. they put him in front of him, tear off his rags, throw him to his knees and present him completely naked to the slave hunters... here is a new prey.. and next to it, on a dry branch of a long dead tree, another young man... caught like him earlier... young like himself - they hang him .. the noose around the neck is tightened, and a naked body, alive, young, pulled up on a rope... they just kill him.. .. and for me a dreaming, terrified boy, a young man taken captive - terror, dread binds the mind, extinguishes the heart … in my ultimate terror and submission... before him, the hunter, kneeling on my knees.. .. naked, my penis hardens and becomes erect ... I stretch out my hands begging .. - this is an eternal symbol of my submission, of my slavery, ... at the terrifying sight of hanging .. and they laugh... they have a slave for Her... to a group of others captured like me, ordinary and simple boys, shackled, enslaved, they drag me there, giving me back my the poor clothes of a slave ...
…
….
…… and I already know that this is the beginning... that this is how it all began … so the choice was made …
To be taken me then... at the beginning of everything … when I was dreamed of, when FATE could take different turns …

And I was led away... when the storm of Lady... Ishtar's Storm... was devastated the Earth... and the Lady Magnificent... Was playing with War... the Queen! … before the altar of Her Power... where She rested on Her Lions... where the crowds of those thrown before Her .. those chosen... through the pool of water washing the bodies... the pool of our baptism and my first baptism, they drove us .. ..
us, slaves brought for Her... from all over the world..

She - Stared With Her Lustful Eyes … She watched… She satiated herself… She sucked out souls … souls given to Her… She chose and marked.. LADY OF WAR .. LADY OF LOVE .. Cruel .. SENSUAL .. DESIRABLE and Lustful… VICTORIOUS … TRIUMPHICAL … Her mark is burned on my chest, the mark of slave ..

ISHTAR .. ASTARTE … Lady of Stars …
Of Moon ..
VENUS …



.. .. .. for Her .. for Her …
.. … … for Her glory... adoration... there is a place for me in the chain of many …

… in front of whom I knelt naked in the crowd... a young boy... a young man...
... ... I raised my hands before Her in adoration and terror, devotion and ultimate arousal ... in my terrified soul I begged for mercy.. .. when it was finally my turn, she touched me with her Lustful, Shameless and Merciless Gaze … She looked... next to her - Jessica/Sarah I was - the one who had/have the strength to save me .. .. and me kneeling... She marked and destined me for what She wanted … Knowing everything .. Tasting .. Recognizing .. - both my soul and my body ...



Her mark is burned on my chest - the mark of a slave, ... for execution, for shameless, lustfull display ... for the rope, for the nails, for the gallows,
for the tree of death and shame …


.. .. .. for Her .. for Her …




.. .. .. for Her glory? ...