Running from history


“The universe is a projection of ourselves; an image as unreal as that of our faces in a mirror, yet, like that face, the necessary form of expression thereof, not to be altered save as we alter ourselves…In that Light, therefore, all that we do is to discover ourselves by means of a sequence of hieroglyphics…” Aleister Crowley

The words were running down the pages as fast as my mind created them.  Each page I turned fell to dust on the ground in a burst of flames.  As fast as I could write it was forgotten.  I wrote about my brain.  How it was bombed day after day.  I couldn’t remember what, or maybe because it was so many things.  Machine guns blaring.  Adults screaming at each other, acting badly for no reason, or just to be on that square.  Things dying, everywhere, showered with death.  Was this my past or my future?  I already couldn’t remember as all I thought burned before my eyes immediately as it became present or…a girl and a desk appeared next to me.  The girl had wings tied to her back and she looked about my age.  There was a Shadowgrey piece of paper in front of her eyes and she was writing on it with the power of her mind.  The words wouldn’t stop.  Quickly the pages piled up before her.  My name is Cherry by the way.  I don’t know where I came from, nor do I know why I am here, I just know I have a lot of things to express.  Can I read it?         No, no, nobody can, it just needs to be released that’s all, it just needs to levitate for awhile…then, oh I don’t really know, but no-one can read it, because whoever sees it becomes it and I know you don’t want that.                                                                                                 But I’m nothing, really, just look.  I can’t even write anything without it disappearing.  I can’t even look in a mirror…I just don’t appear…and, and can you please touch me?  Am I here?                                                                                                                                                                               You’re being silly now, I see you write there, and believe me, you should be happy your writing is burning.  I wish mine was but it just keeps on going, haunting me.  Pushing me down, never leaving my thoughts or my sight. It is always there…                                                 Why do you write then?                                                                                                                                   I just wouldn’t be here if I didn’t

It was then I think I really knew what was going on.  I was trapped within her words.  Suffocating in her thoughts.  Trapped in her pages as they appeared before me.  As I looked up from the bottom of that well, I was once again overcome with hope.                                       Her wings were fluttering rapidly as a look of intense worry painted her face.                           Oh please listen to me okay?  Please, please shut your ears you don’t want to hear this.  Then it must’ve been something I needed to hear.  No, she was right, the noise grated in my ears and pierced to the bottom of my soul.  Coming from somewhere far away… My hands covering my ears I looked up and saw a new image appear in the square.  A veil of purplish darkness invaded my sight.  I was blinded by darkness as I dropped to my knees, opening myself to the power of the words which pushed me to the ground.  Only anger and violence overcame me as that dark veil appeared as a triangle before me.  Something about its strength attracted me towards it.  I walked towards it and reached out with my hand and that’s when I saw the Triangle’s left hand clutching a red book.  Cherry screamed for me not to touch it, you just won’t understand it please, you just won’t understand…it will make your mind…just go.  I’m not sure if it matters really, after all, where is my mind at this instance.  Your words have power the Triangle said, they have weight and substance and there is love behind every word if you can see it that way.  Above all know this, even if your words disappear they are still there.  They are still growing, and the more they disappear, the more power they gain and one day they will exist away from you into the atmosphere and into the stars where they will be unavoidable.  With the silence of closing his eyes Triangle communicated that it was indeed time and in a trail of fire behind him he disappeared down that tunnel.  In a slow flutter, Cherry’s wings were batting up and down, as her writing poured down onto the pages.  In a slow motion pulse her wings fluttered up and down.  Without a second thought  I ran down that tunnel fast as I could,                                                                                        the pages of my heart burning behind me…



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