suspecteg
Bluelighter
‘For Lack of a Better Story’
The day started out as uneventfully as any other, and continued thus till midday, from whence it was nothing more to ease into an evening of numbing, undiluted monotony that survived unmarred by even the least act of momentary peculiarity - in fact, let's skip that day altogether and start with the day after. Indeed this would be a more appropriate point of reference for this narratives introduction, given that the day after was in fact, the day that it all began.
To embark in a customary and cliché manner, the tale began with yet another successful and effortless patronisation of the innocent village people at the hands of the resident conspiring witch and wizard - who also happened to share the binding relation of brother and sister. In fact, surprisingly the brother and sister also happened to be the most powerful practitioners of the dark arts upon the whole surface of ‘Talltreefantasyland’. Up until this moment in the dynamic duo’s lives, the short lived moments between these spurts of mindless destruction lead to a jovial time, a time where cackles of laughter and festivities of broom flying around their freshly smouldering village would bring a feeling of contentment. But this time was different, realisation finally struck the two sorcerers of the apparent insignificance of their work, wreaking havoc on their own small remote town just didn’t seem to cut it in terms of achieving their greater ambitions. No, a repetition of this feat alone would not suffice in cementing a spot in fairytale novels amongst the greats of ‘Lord Voldemort’ and ‘The Big Bad Wolf’. So as the intro comes to its conclusion, we are left with two rugged foul smelling sorcerers flying away on their broomsticks, leaving the only place they ever knew as home. They leave empty handed possessing their broomstick, the clothes on their backs and a new agenda in mind; to demonstrate their superior existence and make their mark across the entirety of ‘Talltreefantasyland’ - their goal to forever be remembered as the greatest and darkest sorcerers to make their way into a book. Evidently from reading thus far, you can see that at least part of this goal was achieved in that the two sorcerers have made their way into an acclaimed narrative, but as for the being remembered as the greatest and darkest, you will just have to read the rest and decide for yourselves.
Now before I have you gaping with awe at the marvellous plot which is lying within this narrative, a short disclaimer needs to be addressed for the integrity of this text. This tale does not follow the journey of the sorcerers but in fact delves into the journey of a potion maker named Dante, it just happens to be that the paths of these characters cross. Also it should be noted that if you had begun reading this story under the impression that you would be treated to a gruesome battle between good and evil consisting of action and mindless destruction, you were wrong. This may come as a disappointment to you but if you don’t drop this book right now you will find yourself absorbed into the depths of an epic tale of seduction and romance. So now that only the most intellectual, exuberant, thought pondering souls remain, we will start, for a third time, in Dante’s village of ‘Normland’. ‘Normland’, as its name suggests is normal in every aspect of its subsistence, picture a village of normal size, with the normal amount trees, a population of a normal number, and numerous normal sized huts spread across the landscape. This particular day of examination however, was not normal in the slightest bit, it begun with an appearance of the I.F.N.T (International foundation of New Technologies), the foundation responsible for setting down the laws regarding a mean standard of technology. ‘Normland’ was known for its simple ways and slow technological growth but on this instance, the I.F.N.T insisted that ‘Normland’ connect to the global ‘treephoneline’ to save from the widespread hassles that would arise if a more practical means for communication was not present. The ‘treephoneline’ was a mechanism consisting of a wire placed in a tree, it was a simple device with cups placed on both ends of the wire serving as receiving and speaking ends of the communication tool. The installation of such a device was a fairly significant event in the eyes of young Dante and his fellow townsfolk. He and his friends had been eyeing this device with curiosity for the whole day and when it began to ring for the first time they were awe-struck. Slowly all the townsfolk gathered around the central oak, the tallest tree in the village and listened intently as the chief townsman conversed through the cup. The string used in the mechanism was not yet up to fiber optic standards and hence waiting to hear of what news was coming through was a harsh and tediously time consuming ordeal, taking around half an hour for the audio to be transferred from one end of the line to the other. So, six hours later, and after an array of confused expressions upon the chief’s face, the message from ‘Wikidinana’ had finally been deciphered. It was a grave message and as the chief passed it on to his people the mood immediately changed from bewilderment and curiosity to terror and panic. Two wicked sorcerers were on their way to ‘Normland’, and they were not coming with the intentions of friendship.
This day was progressively turning out to be the most abnormal day ever experienced by the residents of ‘Normland’, and they were left dumbfounded as to how they could deal with this problem, so again they looked to the chief townsman for leadership. After pondering the scenario for a while he came to a decision that the most normal (and therefore best) thing for the townsfolk to do in this situation would be to band together as one and fight the wretched sorcerers with pride and valour. And so, for the next few days, as the children and women were taken away deep into ‘Normland’s’ neighbouring jungle for refuge, Dante and the townsmen prepared for battle. This was a very awkward experience for Dante, yes he was charming and had his way with the ladies, but that was mostly due to his abilities in brewing the perfect love potion and had little do with his scrawny stature. In fact, Dante had never wielded a weapon in his life; he was so helpless in the field of battle that he could barely hold a shield up without stumbling over due to its weight. So, as the moonlight illuminated the training grounds on the second gruelling day of preparation and each townsmen felt a stab of pain in the stomach known as hunger, a unanimous verdict by vote was reached; Dante was unsuitable for a role in the ‘Normish army’ and the townsmen he was to be set the prestigious responsibility of ‘battle chef’. One would assume as the townsmen did that as someone who excelled in the art of brewing potions, Dante could be relied upon to brew up a killer stew also. Well, if one were to make that assumption in the literal manner then they would be correct. Dante soon found out that the same techniques that he successfully applied in making a love potion were not exactly valid in the art of cookery. For some odd reason a concoction of the typical ingredients of a beef stew along with orange juice, milk and three of Dante’s finest nose hairs didn’t brew as well as he anticipated. It tasted wonderful, the added ingredients were of course the only reason his love potions were bearable to drink. In fact even to the towns most noteworthy food connoisseurs the stew was a delight, it was hearty and had a fresh and original tangy kick to it. The chain of events which followed however, were not taken with the same gratitude by the townsmen. What happened later that night can be best described as the noise of a one thousand piece orchestra consisting of only trombone and bass players resonating through the chamber of a world class amphitheatre. If that analogy doesn’t quite cut it for you, then to paint a clearer picture - it was a wet foul smelling night - of chronic dihorea.
The vile recurrences of the night which had but abominated the bowels of the townsmen continued well into the next morning. So as it came to be, there was be nobody left to defend the town but a pile of demobilised groaning bodies and poor old Dante - who’s bowels for some reason were immune to the adverse effects of the stew. As he sat on a big old normal rock in glum dismay with one hand pinching his nose and the other toying one of the townsmen’s abandoned swords, Dante thought and thought as to how he could save his village from its plight of destruction. After a whole 3 minutes of thinking, Dante was still at a loss for ideas, so he did what any true hero of a tale could do. He stood up, swung his sword in the air and yelled ‘heeeeeeeeeeyoo!’ With his head held up high, ignoring the raft of poo smells blowing into his nostrils and trying to ignore the heavy weight of the shield he had just picked up, Dante headed for the village gates where he would await to take down the dark sorcerers. But as you already know he was not the most strong and spirited of fighters and so as he gazed into the sky through a plume of fart gas and spotted the tips of two broomsticks flying through the air, his momentary burst of bravery vanished and he quickly changed his mind and began to flee the scene of what would most certainly be his demise. He ran to the rock under which he hid his most prized belongings, picked his two strongest love potions and made a dash for the jungle hoping to return to his life of seduction.
Running with his head low Dante hoped against all else that he had not been sighted. Above him in typical fashion the two dark sorcerers began hurling fireballs down from the sky. Slightly relieved, Dante realised they were targeting the town and not him, but before he had the chance to even wipe his brow a massive explosion occurred behind him from the town. With adrenaline pumping through his body in a sudden impulse Dante popped the cork of one of his bottles and drained the contents; if he was going to get out of here, he was going to fall in love with the first girl he met. What Dante in his quite literally love drunk state did not realise however was that even though he had lost his town he had perhaps saved the entirety of ‘Talltreefantasyland’. For this massive explosion which had just occurred was not the will of the sorcerers but had occurred due to the catalytic amounts of methane gas which were present due to Dante’s cooking the night before. Yet as he was unaware of this, and now even more frightened from the explosion, Dante began to run faster than ever. He ran and ran until he collided with the two bodies lying in front of him.
Behold ladies and gentlemen, a slight intermission is warranted, in fact it is advised. You should at this stage take some time to ready your box of Kleenex for I assure you, the intense romance and heartbreak embedded within the scenes which follow will give even the most potent onion a run for its money in terms of propagating a flow of tears down your cheek.
It was love at first sight, well at least from Dante’s side of things. The potion maker was the (not so) charming prince, and this lady was the (not so beautiful) sleeping beauty. Having just stumbled upon the love of his life Dante slowly moved the broomstick which was clearly causing the lady discomfort and knelt down, stroking his maiden’s cheeks. The lady awoke with bewilderment, not believing her eyes she thought she was in a dream. Slowly she parted her lips which gave way to a perfectly uneven row of crooked teeth and then in one swift movement had her tongue in the mouth of this strange man. She was ready to shed all her clothes; this was the moment she had been waiting for her whole life, to be swept off her feet by a mysterious lover. But as she felt her brother stirring next to her she came back to reality. In silent sadness she kicked this strange man off her chest, today would not be the day her dreams would be fulfilled. If you are not the most observant reader, it would benefit you to know that the brother and sister in this scene are indeed the witch and wizard which have been the subject of attention throughout this narrative. It would seem that the explosion in the town had caught the witch and wizard by surprise and caused them to veer off path subsequently landing them in the spot where Dante so fortunately would turn up to. As the witch’s brother awoke, the fair maiden who Dante was so dearly in love with turned her back away from him and hung her head in shame. The stray arrows of Cupid had not only struck Dante, they had left him mortally wounded, for the first time in his life Dante was forced to feel the pain of rejection. And in what heroic fashion the only dialogue of this epic journey was said as follows:
‘I will forever love you oh fair ..........’
Dante was killed in a flash of light and the witches name was never known. The remaining bottle rolled onto the feet of the brother and sister. It is unknown yet to this date why they drank the potion, various theories suggest that they had mistaken the love potion for some sort of elixir of life; some suggest that the two sorcerers were aware of the contents of the bottle, and others are too explicit even for the pages of this narrative. We will never know to what extent these theories can be held reliable however what we do know for certain are the events that followed. It was a disturbing sight but oh yes - it was one to remember. Immediately after the contents of the bottles had been drained the brother and sister turned and faced each other. Standing over the sprawled body of poor Dante, looking deep into each other’s eyes, in a violent primal motion began tearing off their clothes and embarked into a passionate session of fiery love making.
And so ladies and gentlemen, as the love triangle is broken and replaced by the more traditional two ended love stick; we approach the end of an epic tale. An epic tale in which a witch had but one dream, a dream to finally experience love, and that she did. As a matter of fact, if the happiness of one’s life was to be measured by the amount of passionate love making undertaken by those individuals, then the two sorcerers most definitely lived happily ever after. So much so that they had no more time on their hands to follow through with their ambitions of being remembered as the greatest and darkest sorcerers of all time. But let’s face it, some of the things they did in the name of love were pretty ‘dark’ and will forever remain within our memories. I will leave you here to ponder these thoughts, and others; perhaps you will be thinking about what you would do if you could get your hands on a love potion.... I bid thee gracious reader farewell.
credit is due to the writer of : 'The day started out as uneventfully as any other, and continued thus till midday, from whence it was nothing more to ease into an evening of numbing, undiluted monotony that survived unmarred by even the least act of momentary peculiarity - in fact, let's skip that day altogether and start with the day after.' - this was a 2006 prize winning openener i found on the internet and appropriated for my story.
The day started out as uneventfully as any other, and continued thus till midday, from whence it was nothing more to ease into an evening of numbing, undiluted monotony that survived unmarred by even the least act of momentary peculiarity - in fact, let's skip that day altogether and start with the day after. Indeed this would be a more appropriate point of reference for this narratives introduction, given that the day after was in fact, the day that it all began.
To embark in a customary and cliché manner, the tale began with yet another successful and effortless patronisation of the innocent village people at the hands of the resident conspiring witch and wizard - who also happened to share the binding relation of brother and sister. In fact, surprisingly the brother and sister also happened to be the most powerful practitioners of the dark arts upon the whole surface of ‘Talltreefantasyland’. Up until this moment in the dynamic duo’s lives, the short lived moments between these spurts of mindless destruction lead to a jovial time, a time where cackles of laughter and festivities of broom flying around their freshly smouldering village would bring a feeling of contentment. But this time was different, realisation finally struck the two sorcerers of the apparent insignificance of their work, wreaking havoc on their own small remote town just didn’t seem to cut it in terms of achieving their greater ambitions. No, a repetition of this feat alone would not suffice in cementing a spot in fairytale novels amongst the greats of ‘Lord Voldemort’ and ‘The Big Bad Wolf’. So as the intro comes to its conclusion, we are left with two rugged foul smelling sorcerers flying away on their broomsticks, leaving the only place they ever knew as home. They leave empty handed possessing their broomstick, the clothes on their backs and a new agenda in mind; to demonstrate their superior existence and make their mark across the entirety of ‘Talltreefantasyland’ - their goal to forever be remembered as the greatest and darkest sorcerers to make their way into a book. Evidently from reading thus far, you can see that at least part of this goal was achieved in that the two sorcerers have made their way into an acclaimed narrative, but as for the being remembered as the greatest and darkest, you will just have to read the rest and decide for yourselves.
Now before I have you gaping with awe at the marvellous plot which is lying within this narrative, a short disclaimer needs to be addressed for the integrity of this text. This tale does not follow the journey of the sorcerers but in fact delves into the journey of a potion maker named Dante, it just happens to be that the paths of these characters cross. Also it should be noted that if you had begun reading this story under the impression that you would be treated to a gruesome battle between good and evil consisting of action and mindless destruction, you were wrong. This may come as a disappointment to you but if you don’t drop this book right now you will find yourself absorbed into the depths of an epic tale of seduction and romance. So now that only the most intellectual, exuberant, thought pondering souls remain, we will start, for a third time, in Dante’s village of ‘Normland’. ‘Normland’, as its name suggests is normal in every aspect of its subsistence, picture a village of normal size, with the normal amount trees, a population of a normal number, and numerous normal sized huts spread across the landscape. This particular day of examination however, was not normal in the slightest bit, it begun with an appearance of the I.F.N.T (International foundation of New Technologies), the foundation responsible for setting down the laws regarding a mean standard of technology. ‘Normland’ was known for its simple ways and slow technological growth but on this instance, the I.F.N.T insisted that ‘Normland’ connect to the global ‘treephoneline’ to save from the widespread hassles that would arise if a more practical means for communication was not present. The ‘treephoneline’ was a mechanism consisting of a wire placed in a tree, it was a simple device with cups placed on both ends of the wire serving as receiving and speaking ends of the communication tool. The installation of such a device was a fairly significant event in the eyes of young Dante and his fellow townsfolk. He and his friends had been eyeing this device with curiosity for the whole day and when it began to ring for the first time they were awe-struck. Slowly all the townsfolk gathered around the central oak, the tallest tree in the village and listened intently as the chief townsman conversed through the cup. The string used in the mechanism was not yet up to fiber optic standards and hence waiting to hear of what news was coming through was a harsh and tediously time consuming ordeal, taking around half an hour for the audio to be transferred from one end of the line to the other. So, six hours later, and after an array of confused expressions upon the chief’s face, the message from ‘Wikidinana’ had finally been deciphered. It was a grave message and as the chief passed it on to his people the mood immediately changed from bewilderment and curiosity to terror and panic. Two wicked sorcerers were on their way to ‘Normland’, and they were not coming with the intentions of friendship.
This day was progressively turning out to be the most abnormal day ever experienced by the residents of ‘Normland’, and they were left dumbfounded as to how they could deal with this problem, so again they looked to the chief townsman for leadership. After pondering the scenario for a while he came to a decision that the most normal (and therefore best) thing for the townsfolk to do in this situation would be to band together as one and fight the wretched sorcerers with pride and valour. And so, for the next few days, as the children and women were taken away deep into ‘Normland’s’ neighbouring jungle for refuge, Dante and the townsmen prepared for battle. This was a very awkward experience for Dante, yes he was charming and had his way with the ladies, but that was mostly due to his abilities in brewing the perfect love potion and had little do with his scrawny stature. In fact, Dante had never wielded a weapon in his life; he was so helpless in the field of battle that he could barely hold a shield up without stumbling over due to its weight. So, as the moonlight illuminated the training grounds on the second gruelling day of preparation and each townsmen felt a stab of pain in the stomach known as hunger, a unanimous verdict by vote was reached; Dante was unsuitable for a role in the ‘Normish army’ and the townsmen he was to be set the prestigious responsibility of ‘battle chef’. One would assume as the townsmen did that as someone who excelled in the art of brewing potions, Dante could be relied upon to brew up a killer stew also. Well, if one were to make that assumption in the literal manner then they would be correct. Dante soon found out that the same techniques that he successfully applied in making a love potion were not exactly valid in the art of cookery. For some odd reason a concoction of the typical ingredients of a beef stew along with orange juice, milk and three of Dante’s finest nose hairs didn’t brew as well as he anticipated. It tasted wonderful, the added ingredients were of course the only reason his love potions were bearable to drink. In fact even to the towns most noteworthy food connoisseurs the stew was a delight, it was hearty and had a fresh and original tangy kick to it. The chain of events which followed however, were not taken with the same gratitude by the townsmen. What happened later that night can be best described as the noise of a one thousand piece orchestra consisting of only trombone and bass players resonating through the chamber of a world class amphitheatre. If that analogy doesn’t quite cut it for you, then to paint a clearer picture - it was a wet foul smelling night - of chronic dihorea.
The vile recurrences of the night which had but abominated the bowels of the townsmen continued well into the next morning. So as it came to be, there was be nobody left to defend the town but a pile of demobilised groaning bodies and poor old Dante - who’s bowels for some reason were immune to the adverse effects of the stew. As he sat on a big old normal rock in glum dismay with one hand pinching his nose and the other toying one of the townsmen’s abandoned swords, Dante thought and thought as to how he could save his village from its plight of destruction. After a whole 3 minutes of thinking, Dante was still at a loss for ideas, so he did what any true hero of a tale could do. He stood up, swung his sword in the air and yelled ‘heeeeeeeeeeyoo!’ With his head held up high, ignoring the raft of poo smells blowing into his nostrils and trying to ignore the heavy weight of the shield he had just picked up, Dante headed for the village gates where he would await to take down the dark sorcerers. But as you already know he was not the most strong and spirited of fighters and so as he gazed into the sky through a plume of fart gas and spotted the tips of two broomsticks flying through the air, his momentary burst of bravery vanished and he quickly changed his mind and began to flee the scene of what would most certainly be his demise. He ran to the rock under which he hid his most prized belongings, picked his two strongest love potions and made a dash for the jungle hoping to return to his life of seduction.
Running with his head low Dante hoped against all else that he had not been sighted. Above him in typical fashion the two dark sorcerers began hurling fireballs down from the sky. Slightly relieved, Dante realised they were targeting the town and not him, but before he had the chance to even wipe his brow a massive explosion occurred behind him from the town. With adrenaline pumping through his body in a sudden impulse Dante popped the cork of one of his bottles and drained the contents; if he was going to get out of here, he was going to fall in love with the first girl he met. What Dante in his quite literally love drunk state did not realise however was that even though he had lost his town he had perhaps saved the entirety of ‘Talltreefantasyland’. For this massive explosion which had just occurred was not the will of the sorcerers but had occurred due to the catalytic amounts of methane gas which were present due to Dante’s cooking the night before. Yet as he was unaware of this, and now even more frightened from the explosion, Dante began to run faster than ever. He ran and ran until he collided with the two bodies lying in front of him.
Behold ladies and gentlemen, a slight intermission is warranted, in fact it is advised. You should at this stage take some time to ready your box of Kleenex for I assure you, the intense romance and heartbreak embedded within the scenes which follow will give even the most potent onion a run for its money in terms of propagating a flow of tears down your cheek.
It was love at first sight, well at least from Dante’s side of things. The potion maker was the (not so) charming prince, and this lady was the (not so beautiful) sleeping beauty. Having just stumbled upon the love of his life Dante slowly moved the broomstick which was clearly causing the lady discomfort and knelt down, stroking his maiden’s cheeks. The lady awoke with bewilderment, not believing her eyes she thought she was in a dream. Slowly she parted her lips which gave way to a perfectly uneven row of crooked teeth and then in one swift movement had her tongue in the mouth of this strange man. She was ready to shed all her clothes; this was the moment she had been waiting for her whole life, to be swept off her feet by a mysterious lover. But as she felt her brother stirring next to her she came back to reality. In silent sadness she kicked this strange man off her chest, today would not be the day her dreams would be fulfilled. If you are not the most observant reader, it would benefit you to know that the brother and sister in this scene are indeed the witch and wizard which have been the subject of attention throughout this narrative. It would seem that the explosion in the town had caught the witch and wizard by surprise and caused them to veer off path subsequently landing them in the spot where Dante so fortunately would turn up to. As the witch’s brother awoke, the fair maiden who Dante was so dearly in love with turned her back away from him and hung her head in shame. The stray arrows of Cupid had not only struck Dante, they had left him mortally wounded, for the first time in his life Dante was forced to feel the pain of rejection. And in what heroic fashion the only dialogue of this epic journey was said as follows:
‘I will forever love you oh fair ..........’
Dante was killed in a flash of light and the witches name was never known. The remaining bottle rolled onto the feet of the brother and sister. It is unknown yet to this date why they drank the potion, various theories suggest that they had mistaken the love potion for some sort of elixir of life; some suggest that the two sorcerers were aware of the contents of the bottle, and others are too explicit even for the pages of this narrative. We will never know to what extent these theories can be held reliable however what we do know for certain are the events that followed. It was a disturbing sight but oh yes - it was one to remember. Immediately after the contents of the bottles had been drained the brother and sister turned and faced each other. Standing over the sprawled body of poor Dante, looking deep into each other’s eyes, in a violent primal motion began tearing off their clothes and embarked into a passionate session of fiery love making.
And so ladies and gentlemen, as the love triangle is broken and replaced by the more traditional two ended love stick; we approach the end of an epic tale. An epic tale in which a witch had but one dream, a dream to finally experience love, and that she did. As a matter of fact, if the happiness of one’s life was to be measured by the amount of passionate love making undertaken by those individuals, then the two sorcerers most definitely lived happily ever after. So much so that they had no more time on their hands to follow through with their ambitions of being remembered as the greatest and darkest sorcerers of all time. But let’s face it, some of the things they did in the name of love were pretty ‘dark’ and will forever remain within our memories. I will leave you here to ponder these thoughts, and others; perhaps you will be thinking about what you would do if you could get your hands on a love potion.... I bid thee gracious reader farewell.
credit is due to the writer of : 'The day started out as uneventfully as any other, and continued thus till midday, from whence it was nothing more to ease into an evening of numbing, undiluted monotony that survived unmarred by even the least act of momentary peculiarity - in fact, let's skip that day altogether and start with the day after.' - this was a 2006 prize winning openener i found on the internet and appropriated for my story.
