Late morning. Some regular upper strength and leg exercises this week. A plan to work on leaves, a Fall necessity with trees. Carol is setting to be off to BART, Blue Ash Retired Teachers with Anne F. for the monthly luncheon. > She is about to leave and you have completed a draft of the beginning of scene nine.
**
You are over at Pine Hill in the lot waiting for Carol to finish her longer walk. You spent your time north of the dam in the valley under the shade of trees. You noticed some typos, little buggers that are spelled right but the wrong word. “Minds and hearts are the all,” is your easiest example.
I think it’s correct on a second to third look. I did have a terrible one the other day. Sometimes I do a quick read over a week’s worth and find errors but I don’t get them corrected. This blog is a working draft, that’s all there is to it.
It is easy to forgive grammar errors in such an online work such as this as far as I am concerned, old man. This is a runner for the books, that’s the intent, as freebee drafts won’t be allowed once this reaches iUniverse publication.
I thought maybe it might be better to look into changing publishers for these next three.
We are both satisfied with what they have done, orndorff. Look what they have to work with here. Their setup is better than what you were going to do. You can buy books if you need them. You want them bound, boy, the same way. And, although you were thinking about changing the color scheme of the covers to full white with blue lettering I don’t think so. It is up to you and the decision is a way off, but I like the encyclopedic look of the three and three more completes the series. Later with that.
We have a few minutes for a transition let’s work on it and put together what we have. – Amorella.
The latest on Scene Nine
Lying on their backs the bed padding drifts beneath their minds. Thales toyed with and between Kassandra’s fingers only to slowly and methodically capture the middle and ring finger of her left hand and quietly grasp the two as if they were his own. She moved sensuously in such a way to follow through in a similar manner and grasp the ring and middle fingers of his right hand. His right arm and her left lay hard and close between their bodies while her right arm and his left stretched across their chests to rest. One clasping above the other clasping below. Neither then moved while nearly full moon slowly moved a short distance from east to west above.
In a natural cadence each unloosed the clasped fingers and rolled on their sides to face one a finger or two apart. Kassandra looked for the slightest of smiles but saw none rise into his lips. She whispered, “With such a pleasant moonlight as this for cover I am surprised you are not more content in my bed.”
“You were good to touch and hold; content is not so easy with this present, this wandering mind.”
She smiled and joked, “I thought it was your fingers that have been doing most of the wandering,” she giggled, “penetrating my foggy thoughts as casually as this amorous moonlight.” She frowned and spoke more straight-forward and friend-like, “Still no smile. My bed like my mind is no turntable of slow motion, Thales. It scares me when you are hard thinking with eyes so dark and wall-like.”
“I worry that Zeus rests just above us. Zeus or the Supervisor sits just beyond the top corners of the walls, close enough to curtain some of this too bright moonlight you just spoke so softly of.”
Her frown fell into concern as she slowly distanced herself a hand’s width away, “That blank stare I’ve witnessed before Thales. It is frightening enough to capture my love and hold it as a bar between us.”
He grumbled without a thought and said, “You are a silly woman,” then quickly but gravely added, “I mean, you are being silly, woman.” In the pause of such personal hours his mind roared into her unmoving silence as she turned two fists of distance from him and faced the ever silent beauty of a puff of clouds above rolling shadows across the stone wall as if it were her own centeredness, strong and resilient, a woman who knows who she is no matter what the weather of the soul.
Thales angrily thought, she does not realize how close the gods are. Is this the Supervisor? Zeus’s older brother or he himself. A blast of lightning will do me no harm. What can a god to do me? Kick me out of Elysium? For what reason? No. I am kept here where I might be a useful foil to the Rebellion. That is not going to happen. I would, could I be, in madness first. What good is a chaotic mind to a god? Willing madness is a first choice.
Seemingly talking to the stone Kassandra suddenly and directly said aloud, “Thales. You will be lost.”
The rush of thought froze as existence nearly disappeared into a kernel of Thales’s soul. A lost mind? My soul left bobbling in the wasteland as a simple twig? Parts divided – soul and mind. A soul without fuel. Heartfelt inner lined but unreasoning. How did Kassandra know to say such a thing? Coincidence? Too quiet, she is, as if feigning sleep – it is said that a honeybee can grow mad and desert the hive. No place to go, no orientation to get there in any case. It would be us were it not for our Mother. Our hive is she alone. We are but scattered shades first of her biology and now only slivers of her soul. Bubbles of what was once real. Once popped unknown and unheard. Of no use – even a feigned use would do. Not here though, not with Zeus’s ear above to echo my thoughts to one once loved. He paused in the nearly silent breeze of mind, -- was it so long ago that we, with loving hands and fingers held, rested here? With no center I return to Mother. She is the only goddess. Elysium is but her outer garment we tally within grasping like children to her curtain. Little much is Here and little less is Now. The soul has no energy, no power. It is little more than an illusion, a worn kernel of imaginary self. No one fathered Zeus. Fatherless and unnatural are the gods themselves. We are the only ones – alone and soulless. Scattered minds are hearts are the all. Mother, we are still within, unborn.
Kassandra rolled over and re-threaded her eyes into his. “The darkness I see will be a void, Thales. Will you now disappear to be resolved within your own quarters? How does that work? If lost, how does that work?”
Without a sense of reflected light; silence became his own cloud to hide behind. “I think I am unhelpful to the group. Better were I not involved on this level.”
In a solid tone of practical common sense, Kassandra suggested, “Let’s let the committee decide, Thales.”
Perhaps it is best. Though I will tell them as I have told you – the gods are in on this deeper then we think. They cannot be outsmarted. What judgments can we use when the gods are so close by. I can feel a Presence. God? Something is here beyond our own spirits.
In madness, he thought, we Dead may fall, scattered individuals, into an unspeakable oblivion even beyond the bottomless Tartarus. Either Zeus’s or the Supervisor’s lone index finger is pressed into my mind and human thoughts are being swirled and flushed by this added godly pressure.
Can Zeus throw a lightning bolt here, in my mind? How do I know I am struck? We have no epileptic-like fits in this Place. No diseases. I think I cannot be struck down. Do I focus on myself or the god or would be god who presses within? It is baffling to think when so struck with such unknown empty forces full of a continuity from before a Beginning. Such kindness not to have a physical body. Yet, the mind races like the sound of chariot wheels behind the power of the strongest horses as a god or goddess cheers at the sideline. On both sides of the track at once. I am built to defy the strongest of deities so that I might continue to survive.
The reins are for my own control no matter what horses are driven. It is that I cannot survive in my own mind without forcing even the king of all gods out. To defy a god either named or nameless is to say I exist still. I defy my own mind with solidified reason, the only known weight holding me down and raising me up both at once, is to obey my own otherwise subjected free will.
In my own mind I stand free to object what is known and unknown in my own nature and in the nature of this Place, Elysium, or such an illusionary Place as this by any other name called. Madness would be scared shitless in such a warring field as this. I exist by my own reason. I defy the gods on one side and madness on the other and race the field to think once again beyond such senseless grounds as these struck by my own enigmatic fears.
Thales looks up from the mental floor of blackness below and says, “So fair, my Kassandra, your dark eyes are but beacons for my full resolve – I stand here without madness and without gods both at once." . . . .
**
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