Notes & a Draft of Scenes 1 & 2 of Chapter Four

        You are up at four hundred hours as you could not sleep after three.

         I woke up thinking I would like to live long enough to finish these three books so I could go back and correct the first three. It would be satisfying to have written six books that I had bound and were good enough to pass on to my grandchild as a demonstration of commitment to a concept of a better imaginary world if nothing else. I will have at least learned something of an understanding about myself (and about the species of which I am a part) and put it to paper. To me this is an accomplishment in life, and if not an accomplishment, it is an objective or at least a goal. Personal best, and all that.

         It is realistic and accomplishable, certainly as a goal. As you are awake why not make use of the time. > You finished the first scene of chapter four and it is not yet five. Post and go back to bed. – Amorella. 

         Late mid-morning. Up and breakfast of cereal and a banana. Doctor’s appointment at thirteen-thirty hours. You are curious as to this second scene as you conjure up a brain and spinal column swimming up the Styx to the pond mentioned earlier in the book.

         Almost time for bed after a busy day and a long nap as well as two TV favorites, Chuck and ‘24’. Let’s see what we can do for scene two.

         Another short scene, Amorella. Strange, just now I almost wrote Merlyn’s name rather than your own.

         Good. Tomorrow, scene three will make up for the shorter scenes. We return to the three who took the tip of Olympian gold. They the story will then unfold.

         Ho, ho. I like the sound of this. Looking forward to it. 

Chapter Four
© 2009 The Rebellion by Richard H. Orndorff

Scene 1

You are about to witness the death of Merlyn the Scottish bard in AD 610. How this is relevant to the birth of the first rebellion is beyond belief but not beyond reason.

Old Merlyn is sitting on the earth under a favorite tree in the woods, and he is leaning back against a favorite piece of stone for support.

He muttered, “I will leave this world sitting up.” A few more breathes and it will be done. Shortly thereafter his last words, “The pawn is taken.”

The only one listening is Mother Earth. She feelsanthinks, old Merlyn coils like one cooling cat. A final unconscious bodily curl to keep the belly warm. Unneeded. Unnecessary.

                                                               Scene 2

         Floating in a banana peel. A nutty aroma. Away, away rolls the clay. Out of one corner and into another, and another. A ceiling. A floor. An old wooden door. Consciousness dancing fully long legged in twilight. Unconsciousness un-trapped. Heart in an upside-down  bowl. Rolled out flat with a hole along the right edge. Unknotted mind.

Here I am. Intact. Inside out. Thrice thrashed and open for business. Hello. This is Merlyn untagged with quotation marks.

Merlyn?

Who is this?

A friend.

Thales? Thales of Miletus?

The same.

I studied you and your students, Anaximander and Anaximenes.

While we were studying you, Merlyn.

What did you learn?

You are not a pawn taken. You reached the eighth rank. Chess pawn promotion. A rule unbroken.

What piece will have me?

Your queen.

What is the game?

Life and Death. Observe. The Game has already begun.

What is my color?

No one knows, Merlyn.

And, so it is that Merlyn has arrived. He assumes the Place of the Dead is the Fortunate Isle, Avalon, but here in this Place, Celt and Greek become one, a transformation of a boarded promotion unknown, even to Merlyn, and time has come and gone and come back again.

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