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HISTORY
THe dance of
xekakon
By Will Street
They say that homogeneity comes from the equilibrium of all matter. Green and opaque, it pervades the entire humanity. What the ancestors found when they discovered this was that there is something altogether unperceivable that lurks beneath the tundra. Nothing was there, in essence, apart from the hierarchical reflections across their brows. Tall, dark and powerful, it is enough to turn the sky falling downwards. It is enough to fight endlessly and endlessly like a reverberating metronome.
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The shudders, bouncing here or there, culminated together like waves lapping onto the shore. They took their time to arrive, shook hands nonchalantly with the scumbags that were there, before trickling across further stretches of sand. They continued doing this every day and every night for three years. They continued snarling at the fleeting escapes of their eternity.
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Yet the shore reaches out, as it does, far kindlier on most occasions. The blackened canvas is nothing but an improper guidepost at this point. It is nothing more than a scathing from fettering sheep. Slow and proud, a whistling emerges from the trees, vigorous and blustery as it leaves the clouds sweeping away. The warmth of the atmosphere soothes her body, running up her legs here or there, before she turns downwards sharply and observes a blackened figure approaching her.
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The man reached forward and drew back his sunglasses. “Madame, may I offer you a chilled beverage!” He pronounced courteously. “We have the Mango Colada as our special for today!”
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Without a fret, Emma returned a gaze back at the figure who was insolently blocking the rays of the sun. She was forced to conceal the glow with her left hand and murmur some kind of reply hastily. “If you can put it on my room account?” She murmured chaotically.
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“As you wish,” replied the waiter politely. “That is room number 306 I believe.” He stretched away and the full glare of the sun returned. Emma picked up her sunglasses with her left hand and comforted herself in the lounger, ready to retrieve her paperback book the other side.
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The beguiling sun began to fade as they reached the later stages of the afternoon. Orange fruit falling from the trees, orange flowers and orange dresses mused onto the central sand beach in front of the hotel. Wealthy and distinguished guests grasped flutes of champagne or exotic cocktails. Secular-seeming groups sipped on their drinks and passed small-talk. Vibrant sounds erupted from the mass of people.
Before long, Emma found herself dipping her toes in the warm water of the ocean. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and felt the warm water lucidly caress her inhibitions. She had been doing this for several minutes before the gentle squeals and cries of fellow holidaymakers gently persuaded her to look around. There appeared a couple – a man and a woman – who, like Emma, were smartly dressed. They paced through the warm water lapping onto the shore while announcing their greetings.
“Hello there!” They cried cheerily. “What a wonderful evening we find ourselves here!” The man peered over more closely. “Aurora is so wonderful at this time of year!” He bent down, dipped his hand through the water, before slapping both palms together. “Say!” He continued heartily. “Are you staying at the Palm Beach?! My wife and I have just settled in.”
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Emma gave a gratuitous reply. “Yes,” she murmured nonchalantly. “In fact it’s just me on my own at the moment.” She sauntered away from the water and back towards the beach. “I’m staying in the hotel on my own,” she continued. “That way I can finally liberate my tensions.”
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The female perked up and looked at Emma gushingly. “As it happens, we were about to head further along the beach,” she uttered eagerly. “We were gonna take ourselves to one of the nightclubs along the northern shoreline.” She peered at Emma as she now had her back against her. “How about you join us!” She announced heartily. “We’ll go as a group of three!”
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That was enough persuasion for Emma to agree. Indeed, she now found herself swiftly walking down the beach as the collection cajoled each other forward. The adrenalin coursed through her veins. A circumspect quiver came across her – a rebounding anxiety as the triplet marched onwards. Who were these strange incumbents, she mused with consideration. Who were these devilish wolves of the night? Sure, she was feeling wilder as the alcohol of the early evening set in. But best she maintain respectability, she assured herself, best her ensure no distant troubles befall this exuberant soiree.
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It was a nonchalant breezing of the wind. They embarked along the cruise vessel registering the high peaks of affection. Each wore a masquerade manoeuvring their own psyche. Each was on a mission for their own victory. High the vaulted building stretched to infinity. Two-a-breast, they marched skywards… they marched into the unknown. A fragmented ray of light, that pierced the metallic windows, seem to guide them onwards. They were now marching vertically upwards. They were marching in a lucid dream.
The Cathedral of their dreams seems to beckon towards them. Pervading like an omniscient force, the green void settles their nerves and righteousness. The escalator is pointing higher, taunting their spindly senses. An instant booming reverberates across the cosmos. A shattering dismembers everything, save the void connecting each bolt to a solid. The ancestors had recalled this very moment. They had spoke of the tundra…. the vault that had emerged when the eagles had aligned in this way.
Emma felt a shattering around her. The erupting forces were too much to bear. And her withered soul knew nothing that could overcome it. She was taken. She was swiftly besieged by the night… the night and day that studied her continuous metronome. Indeed, the next thing she could remember was lying affably in her hotel room, staring peacefully at the room’s white-painted walls.
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Two days later, after a couple of uneventful days spent relaxing by the pool, she was ready for her next step across Atlas’ web. In fact, she was ready and poised to explore the newly discovered Buddhist temple. Rummaging through her own handbook of knowledge, the omens seemed destined to unravel. This legendary temple was atop a mountain further inland among the island. It was said to emanate all wisdom from a single source.
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Once there, having hiked for several hours, simple trinkets here and there ensured everyone now understood the heritage of such a foreboding shrine. Whether the fleeting clouds or tall, dark trees knew anything… or something… the colliding battalions knew one thing. The colliding battalions knew one thing and that was only above this temple could conversation be struck with the elders. Reaching above the bronze satellite post, only a being of supreme power could decipher the necessary knowledge to continue.
It was those who had devoted themselves to piety over decades of years that were usually elected to preside over the entranceway and ensure everyone abided by the proper conduct. They were commonly swift-footed and dismantled any insurrection, of whatever kind, with acrobatic strength. It was acrobatic strength that their knowledge of the cosmos instilled within them… instilled within them like a fermenting vodka.
Emma, as she stared upwards to the steel post and heavens above, knew she had to face her fears like a knight in battle. Gone were the days of her privileged childhood, her amicable horse-riding years or the merriment of collecting dandelions from the meadows. Today she had to act like a blackened assassin.
She took each step, step by step, carefully as she sauntered into the Buddhist temple. Towards the graduation moment they were coming, towards the final reckoning of all hell. Howlings would beat from the walls. Beratings would pulsate from the ceiling. The meandering blue sky above them sank in its shoes, bereft of the sanity to grasp what phantoms were arriving.
In front of the wretched child was a reflection of her insanity. The green void was eternal. It snarled and slithered across her skin. It then passed upwards and rummaged around her flesh. The coils of this beast were awakening her. They were taking their bounty before the pudding arrived.
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Emma woke up the next day wretchedly fatigued but lying in her bed. She was somewhat moved and riled. The pulsating veins of her body were heralding a return to the land of the living. She could almost grasp it in her hands. It was as if she could disperse whistles that could start a new tune. In effect it was an ability to coalesce with beasts… to coalesce with beasts that ran freely across the tundra.
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However, the dark stares of the wind directed her towards another course. This time she was soaring like an eagle. Robins, crows and hawks came rushing past her two-a-penny. The wind soared like a burgeoning fox, rattling her feathers like a demon in disguise. Up she would rise, before falling sharply and diving towards the land. She could observe nature’s totality. Wiser now it seemed, she could taste the elements like they were perforating her tongue.
Before long, Emma found herself sat back down on the beach at the northern side of the city. She was sombre but deeply composed. She wanted to gaze out at what seemed the eternal ocean and somehow make sense of her place in this world. The hazy blue sky and ocean continue as far as she could see. Yet her heart felt obsolete against the elements – its soul pilfered and cast off into infinity.
Back and forth she continued to stare. Back and forth she stared. The world around her was growing richly turquoise. It was disseminating meaning, kaleidoscoping into something unknown.
Before the eyes of Emma suddenly appeared an image of what seemed like a phantom swaying in the wind. It stretched backwards and then faded away into the abyss. What was in front of Emma now was a castle, being besieged by a medieval army. The medieval soldiers would launch trebuchets against the stone turrets and mighty walls of the castle. Others would climb up the walls, ready to fly into battle with axe in hand.
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Before long the gatehouse was breached. The gatehouse was breached like a sudden Olympus. The colliding troops came from both sides. Disparate brigands ignited the first torch – something that swelled in the breeze. Beneath it, both parties untangled their electricity and danced through the night. They were heathens, ejaculating scumbags, who looked precisely… nay exactly like their beer-drinking friends. So the landscape fought in this way. So the reverbing drum of battle seeped through their veins.
The delectable tree house stood back, above and atop this merry hill-side wander. The workforce was there to squander… nay to ponder all that was beneath their bell. But Emma took it upon her as she laid there bare. The fight was ready and she was gonna scare. So, after a prepare, she jumped upon her mare and joined in with the fair.
As the axes of this military swung high, seeking to pulverise their opponents with steel strength, Emma could see another figure emerging in front of her. She saw someone in the distance, someone reaching out to her. The sharp gaze of him seemed warming. It gleamed across her brow like she had met her Olympian. In fact, he reached down and pulled a gold object out from his pocket. It appeared like a totem of some kind… a token of mysteries. She shoved her hand against her linen tunic and looked up at the Adonis he had become.
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She stretched her hand forward and tried to reach out this gentleman. She was touching his forehead. She was touching the ethereal star that seemed to be his face. It shone towards her gleamingly, as if it were made with gold and bronze. As her fingers touched the wondrous spectacle, light soared and soared brighter until the figure was engulfed and light beamed everywhere. Finally, the spectacle exploded and she was submerged in what seemed to be a constellation. Euphoria seized her mind, tranquillity blossomed everywhere, until the slumberly Emma that she was found herself in her bed having woken up from a dream. That is the end of the tale. Goodbye!