“Go to the hillside!” He yells, making an abrupt turn on his heels as he whispers under his breath “You never believe anything i say anyway”
“What did you just say?” Skta’s voice diffuses into the atmosphere as he walks farther away, marching towards the lonely ferns swaying beside the almost still stream water. Its where he saw the seven steps of Hakagrhi. He walked them. For half a split second he remembers the cloudy haired lady substance who took his hand as she led down the river of fluctuating consciousness, her hand wrapped around a silver cord extended from his chest area.
“I’ll make her come again. I have to. She can’t leave me like this. She has to finish the story. I belong in that story. That story is about me. Damn it! Why don’t i remember anything? Why?” He finally reaches the old spot at the edge of the observant stream. Its quiet seems an inquisition of sorts. For no reason at all, he responds to the feeling of being questioned, his voice, tempered with restrained fear
“I just want h ..er to finish… the story pl..ea..se” A toad jumps out of the stream onto the muddy earth before him, causing him to stumble backwards. Just as he lands on his back a luminescent butterfly perches on his nose, seeming to giggle at his perplexity. He feels the soul of the butterfly. She is kind. The glistening eyes of her wings hold him hypnotised as she remains still upon his pointed nose, staring into him. Then she flies away. The feeling of emptiness evoked by the Lady Substance, as he thinks of her returns, its overpowering effect quadrupled ten times more. The magic that eludes him threatens to drive him mad. In a rage, he stands up and begins to walk away from the stream feeling taunted and used for pleasure by the elements.
A storm is coming. His sister is no longer standing where he had left her. He feels exposed in the open desert as it riles up to wear a dominating dress of new darkness. He can’t see anything now. Only the dark remains. His eyes turn a molten shade as he starts to run towards nothing. In every direction. His feet now have a mind of their own as he surrenders to the arrogant commands of that which he knows is greater than he. Somewhere in this madness he sees the toad clearly, a burnt rose between its dribbly lips talking to him as though he should understand. He does not. From behind, a fiery vulture spears malignantly into his spine, sending spurts of great frequencies of light in the form of substance, high into the center that gives him existence. He looses it. Falls dead to the desert skin that gives to accomodate his lifelessness. Then his eyes part and there she stands, majestic and light above solid ground. Her voice is the same as the butterfly’s. Only that it didn’t speak. Even though it did. He forces himself past the confusion to attempt to make sense of everything. She speaks first
“You shouldn’t have come back. But now that you have, you will learn the whole story but never be able to return from whence you came. Till it is time” In response, his voice is thick with urgent inquiry
“Time for what?”
“No time. Not time. Never time. For time is a scale illusioned to guide the vanity of human existence . Till it is time for no time. Not time. Never time.” With a finger, she pulls him from water. He realises his helplessness in the basket. He strains to touch her smiling face. She moves to let him. There is a crown upon her head. She smiles at the three servants waiting by the bank. And then, basket in hand, she walks out of the river…
Fade – To – Black