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THe SECRETS OF

JAHWAKA 

By Will Street
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So the chiming of the north breeze echoed across the shore.  So the invincible quest was about to manifold.  So even was the light of infinity set to embrace their souls.  The left citadel was about to be turned asunder, the left ankle set to then reignite it again.  A pervading warmth of nymphs scurried and ushered their newcoming centrepiece, strange pixies who might otherwise have danced through the wild forest.

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Surrounding this clan was an invisible barrier retaining their moral worth.  It was a gap between who was a scumbag and who wasn’t.  In effect, the wall was a barrier that retained as sense of dignity, even righteousness.  The frontier took a swell slice across the playing field and decided exactly who was better kept within their quarters.  It decided who and amongst who they would break their bread.  Tall tales and tall figures charge onwards, with the breeze of the night, towards Atlantis.  Discarding with ease the whispering pilgrims who only murmured at their shins, they plunge headlong into infinity.

 

Their plight is wretched.  Their plight curtails almost always at every occasion.  It breathes solemnly only disease.  Their plight is wretched until one particular man arrives to bring their salvation.  It suffers until someone stands above their clan and solves the mystery.  And in this case it was a scholar who roamed freely amongst the forests of the Xeje.  His name was Jahwaka.

 

Long ago, deep within the forests of the Xeje, a legend ran rife through the barracks of priests. Keino, the essential dualism of the Earth, was constantly alternating and vying between two forces – the Xin and the Xan.  The ancestral gravity underpinned every scope of reality and the plight that all humans faced.  Yet Keino had left a secret to the humanity living in its universe.  It had left a piece of information so crucial to understanding the crux of reality. 

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Floating and fettering above the temples, the truth of reality swayed back and forth in the wind.  Undulating and rising, it appeared like an invisible dance of unspoken wonders – beautiful mysteries that dazzled in the air.  They were accustomed to often swarm inwards and smother the temples rooves.  It was as if they were partaking love… love from their very own lofty estimations.

  

Yet the serpents would rise upon these Zeniths.  Rich and anguished, they had a battle of their own.  Down from the sky and terrorising all the land, a dragon swung from the abyss.  He snarled and engulfed all in his way with a fiery tongue.  Torching buildings to the ground, the prize of this beast was none other than total domination.  Sporting a titanic build and extensive fireballs, he pulverised all in his way.  Nay, he was the worst nightmare of the entire civilizations. 

Satan had sent his most devilish fiend.  The skies grew red with their merry banquet.  They were the incumbents of a dark, grey sky – one that lit up in flames like a minotaur.  In effect, they were a mass of brigands, evil usurpers that scoured all heaven.  The dragon snarled downwards as if his totality had arrived.  He prepared his fireballs ready to cancel out the Xyo’s existence. 

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Yet the Xyo were clever.  They developed a precise means of counteracting the dragon.  Through development of new metals via improvement in chemical compounds, they began to be able to affect the change on the sub-atomic particles, the muons.  This provided the Xyo with machinery that was far more powerful.  They became so adept at creating new compounds and new machinery that eventually they were able to repulse the dragon from their lands using magnetism.  It was scientific wonder and widely saluted across the lands of the Xyo. 

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Many years later, the same community of Xyo still existed across the forests of the Xeje.  In fact, it was now a blossoming centre of study.  Teachings were widespread and encompassed fields such science, maths and linguistics.  There were even competitions in debating – competitions for any particularly ambitious folk.  And this is where we find our academic, Jahwaka, debating at an early age.

  

He knew the sandstone emporiums like he was borne from the stone himself.  Still at the light age of twelve, he captivated the entire audience and held them within his grasp.  Animated spectators would gasp at the twists and turns of his rhetoric.  Extolling his excellence to the heavens, the events taking place seemed like the enactments of theatre.  And it precisely was theatre that contended the peaceful mind of the young incumbent.  To him, he relished any form of study –  diligent reading and philosophical musing to captivate his mind.

 

A week later, Jahwaka was passing through the stone streets of Xeje pondering to himself on wisdom and the academic principles he was contemplating.  He passed along the white rocks of the road, heading downwards to a well.  It was a well that was at the bottom of the enclave and surrounded on all sides by olive trees and stone buildings.  There happened to be a wooden park bench in one corner.  He sat down and relaxed the inhibitions of his furrowing brow more calmly. 

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Ten minutes had passed.  Ten minutes had passed in which Jahwaka sat idly and calmly on the bench.  However, fortune would provide the poor academic with a thrust of despair.  Three unruly Xyo appeared pacing noisily into the decadent enclave.  They gurgled to themselves with a cacophony of insolence, pounced headlong against the sensibilities of mankind. 

The plight Jahwaka was facing was wicked.  Grey clouds swarmed above, reflecting the dooming gloom he sensed was rapidly approaching.  He tried to appear nonchalant – a simple fool minding his own business.  Yet that could provide no defence.  Sensing his vulnerability, the mass of brigands lunged headlong on their captive.

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“Hand over your food tokens!”  Cried one viciously.  “Make haste and don’t try anything stupid.”  He gazed at Jahwaka with a snarl.  “We’ve already had enough of people like you who, trottering around this town like a fucking pheasant in the sky!”  He grinned with a devilish guile.  “Now hand over everything you’ve got and be on your way!”

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Destitute enigmas can nonetheless frame the picture.  It can sully the new moon – transfer its weight into the playing field, selecting a position, selecting a tournament.  Atlantis was built out of the waves.  It knew the gurgling bastion of the water.  The waves only lap once onto their shore, yet there are a million others following its course.

 

Like the star of their prophecies, a young girl appeared in the enclave.  She was a similar age to the whole crowd standing beside the well.  She was similar in the sense she was proud and instilled early with an education from the Xyo.

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However, she had been waiting for a very moment such as this.  It wasn’t for nothing that she so diligently studied the meditations of Keino.  It was so that she could defend a poor innocent soul – such as the very one in front of her.  Immediately, Kiera began to float gently.  She began to float gently in the guise of a Buddha.  Closing her eyes gently, she calmly focused her mind.  Within an instance, the bullies were neither congratulated nor reprieved but rather sent flying in the sky several metres behind them.  Gathering themselves together, they immediately realised Kiera’s strength and flocked swiftly away from where they stood.  They flocked away from the enclave they had so viciously sought to defile.

   

Jahwaka remembered that day very well.  Having been dusted off by the obliging Kiera, he continued onwards with his casual life of studies, meditation and rhetoric.  Yet he became a man changed by the misfortunes he had experienced.  He yearned to be a strong as Kiera himself.  He yearned to be the hero this time, who was saving others and fighting in battle.  Simple studies into geometrics was not going to work, he thought, if he was only to be battered when Kiera was not around.  He was a shambles, he thought.  Something was gonna have to change and something was gonna have to change pronto.

He paced through the town markets revolving his thoughts.  Look at all these people, he thought!  Each was starting at their stalls, produce and townsfolk not knowing how to live!  There was something greater, he thought to himself!  There must be!  Again he stared at the fleeting mundanity of the town market.  It seemed insular and bereft of thought.  It seemed like a troll guarding benevolence.

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He sauntered further towards the end of the market space. There, guarding the walkway like an elephant, was a crowd of rocks that had existed since the foundations of their civilization.  At this point, Jahwaka was overcome with anguish.  The simple image of everything was written in deceit!  The North Star was a scumbag, he thought to himself!   Each breath in this land was filthy and decrepit!

 

He turned and stared at the stone slab ready to wrestle the very history it had witnessed.  He glared at it with piercing eyes and hate in his mind.  He was ready to topple it, he reassured himself.  This stone, nay this town, was no match for the strength of his brow.  So he glared.  He observed the stone like a stunning priest in action.

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Wretched, relegated and putrefied the rotting apple has yet enough power to stupefy.  In a world-changing turn of events and much to Jahwaka’s disbelief, Jahwaka and only Jahwaka seemed to see glowing whiter light manifest out of the rock.  It blazoned like a furnace.  The sheer brightness swarmed well past his consciousness.  Idly swarming supernovas seized control of the entranceway.   He was captivated in body and mind.  He was seized and shoved into a constellation dancing around as dots in the universe.  The image before him was a chariot, guiding him to its vessel.  Jahwaka saw himself as a man stepping forth onto the chariot.  Yet the chariot was driven by winged horses, who promptly soared the chariot to the upper regions of heaven.  It broached towards the sky until, at last, the rock slammed shut and the light dissipated. 

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Jahwaka was left aghast and dumbfounded.  He was overcome by eclectic mysteries.  Round and round the image pulsated through his head.  It twisted and turned, forcing him crazy, twisting and turning like a savage serpent upon his mind.  Where was the hope, he thought to himself?  Yet where were the visible spectres in the darkness?  To and fro they were rushing like wolves.  Pilfering here for a moment like the spitting eagles above!  He turned and rushed his hands across his skull furiously.  I cannot commune with these devils in the light of day, he thought to himself!  I must conduct a meeting that is not to the detriment of us both!  He peered from side to side ominously.  They will hang us all, he cried!  They will hang us all!  So he therefore dived idly to the farther side and wrapped his cloak across his garments, shadowing his corpus from inspection. 

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That night the wind howled in a tempest.  The unholy forces of evil were ready to banquet at leisure.  A twisted chiming of the clock spoke of the macabre venom unleashing its circus. The order was perverted, decorum spread eagle to the villifiers chanting its name.  Jahwaka was deep asleep.  He was far away with the fairies.  His mind was passing idly, with dreams of goat-herding and simple sleeping on hay.  Yet he was woken up as the crash of lightning shattered violently across his room.  He heaved his head upwards.  He heaved his head upwards with an almighty groan and beckoned to what invisible forces were keeping him so delirious.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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Putting on a dressing gown, he ran to the terrace that looked out across a field.  It was a field richly planted with maize… maize that towered two metres above the ground.   The undulating crops that twisted in the wind seemed so perfect.  The awakening masterpiece in front of him appeared like a ballroom, lit up by a light that was the moon.  The wind was sharpening and changing every direction at any moment.

 

Yet the crop field could chant just as well.  Learned in music and the vocal tongue, it was a choir that sang the hymns of Atlantis.  The sound bellowed from the crops louder and louder. They were standing upright now, heaving their sounds into infinity.  Up the choir raised their sound to the heavens above, disseminating its love as it were to the ground beneath the tenor.

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Jahwaka was incensed and invigorated, deploring himself not to let this chance pass idly.  He raised his chest forward and beamed out his desire emphatically.  He cried to the gods with all the adrenaline he could muster.  Blazing now like a star, he, at least, had sent his Artemis to the profound lands.  They were lands that he thought of with a smile as he wiped away a tear from his eye.

 

Gazing across at a haystack, the true counterpoint to this soul gleamed sensuously in the wind.  Must he take it, he thought to himself!  Must he ignore this tornado and coalesce with the heavenly ones!  The wind was pulsating stronger and stronger.  The isolated iglu of his surroundings was enough to revolutionise his perception of the world.  Far off in the corner was a dissident leprechaun who muttered slowly her inspections.  On the right side, further ahead, was a floating fairy who merely looked onwards with despair.

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So he took instruction from the book of Jeeves.  He followed the dainty, swell pathway of joining Olympus.  Discarding the weight of its filth, he discarded his body.  With such a riven shackle unloosened he was left purely as a soul.  As such, he was able to converse and coalesce amongst the gods.  He could commune with heaven in its perfection. 

For three years, Jahwaka strolled casually through the forests of the Xeje in this way.  He was a celebrity academic, who was extolled for the singular diligence being just a soul endowed him with.  There was no need for exercise, nor partake in the banquets – the bulk of his time was spent meditating in the air above the sacred temple of Xanthon.

 

The development of his mind was the principal focus of his time.  He spent hours, floating roughly twenty centimetres above the ground, deep in reflection of the principles of Zarkovich.  Unlocking the principles of Zarkovich, he always told himself, could bring this clan their entire salvation.  If he could only unlock the principles of the muons, he could cease the turmoil and bring tranquillity at last.  In effect, he could let the trees of this community blossom unhindered and ripe in their beauty.

 

He would twist and turn through this phase of his life, discarding social concerns and all other academics around him.  When party-going freshmen came knocking on his door, he merely told them to fuck off.  When the delights of apple-picking in the autumn brought the whole community together, he decried that it was the occupation of children.

 

He continued in this way, until one day an exceptional person came knocking on his door.  Such a peculiar person came knocking on his door that it would change Jahwaka’s considerations forever.  This was a young girl called Eloise.  She, as Jahwaka was, had become solely a soul as well.  She too had discarded her body.  She had discarded it when she realised it was only tugging her downwards when she was deep in meditation.

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Yet, differing souls were like an arena that could unfold.  She had some very profound disagreements with the legendary Jahwaka.  These were conflicting views that stemmed across most temple walls within the Xeje forest.  Where the proud and austere Jahwaka thought meditation and annotations were the optimal form of discerning Zarkovich, she had a far more robust approach.  She argued that the matter must be perceived pictorially.  As such, she sought to set forth diagrams and sketches, both conceptually and of the matter taking place.

 

The two came to a forefront before the local archery competition within the Xeje forest.  Both academics had entered the competition.   So too they both grasped on to their rivalry with unabating intent.  The victor of the archery competition was presented with a gold wreath, something that had been passed through generations since the forges of the primordial Anglo-Saxons many years ago. 

Eloise, in this occasion, was first to step forward to the pedestal.  She was the first to step forward and gripped her bow like an Amazon.  She knew and understood the cosmos very well.  She knew how to discern the auspices too very well.   When an absent pheasant was accustomed to appear alone, she knew very well that it must have arrived from some Earth-bound deity.  When the wind gave a particular cry, equally, she was always there to beseech Atlas amongst his shrine.

 

Precisely, the gods called to her now in this very moment.  Her household god had always been Orion.  It was him who blessed her entire family with prosperity.  She could see him appearing to her now.  “Go on!”  She could hear him crying.  “This is your moment for victory!”  She could sense the brilliance in his voice.  “Now is your chance to win!”

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However, the pulsating energy always invites a penalty.  Or as much as it was to a scumbag who might smoke a drag.  Hiking up a mountain, it might even drink from a fountain.  Yes.  Immediately, Jahwaka burst forward and prepared himself to launch an arrow.  He had no care for pleasantries.  Polishing his own shrine, one that mostly spilled degradation, he was only there to suffocate any politeness and seize the golden wreath red-handed. 

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Jahwaka therefore barged past the innocent Eloise, who looked dumbfounded at his impertinence.  He barged past her just as much as the weight of the arrow was burdening him.  He was now in full-armour and ready to seize Atlantis.

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However, just as Jahwaka was pulling back his bow, another spectacular vision interrupted the space in front of him.  It was once again fucking strange and rich with anthropomorphic wonder. The dazzling image even seemed magical, as if whomever the creator may be, they had a profound grasp of fine art. 

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Before Jahwaka, he could see a resplendent female character stride forward whilst holding a staff in her hand.  Both the tip of the staff and her own crown were plated with gold.  The beauty of her visage was beyond wonder.  Emanating ethereal magnificence, she appeared as if a bastion of salvation.  Jahwaka was held aghast by the authoritative majesty and recoiled backwards as if he had seen the furies.  Yet a moment later the stone-like figure began to utter emphatic commands.  She uttered emphatic commands as Jahwaka shifted backwards against the might of this figure’s boldness. 

“Jahwaka, son of Hermes!”  The spectre cried first.  “I come before you now to settle the imbalance of Zarkovich.”  She raised her staff slightly forward. “You are living bereft of the foundations that underpin all life!  You must come together,” she continued.  “To set forth the principles that bind us all.  Not for the wealth or splendour of one kind, but for the benefit of the Xeje forests in their entirety!  Take these words” she uttered finally.  “And create a set of ethics that serve you all!  Goodbye young Jahwaka!  Goodbye!”

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A moment later Jahwaka gathered himself.  He gathered himself having been totally gripped by the wonder of the image.  It was a lot to overcome, but eventually he pulled himself together, brushed the dust off his shoulders and turned around to face the remaining crowd.  However, he was a man changed.  Immediately, he forfeited the archery competition and congratulated Eloise on being the champion.  The two set aside their differences and lived prosperously in the same community for the rest of their lives.  

THE END

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