Your Dispraportionate Gaze...

Katherine Skye

 

 

You are in a field...

an aged wind is blowing.

You hear nothing...

but the thud of grass blade against blade,

and a whistling far away...

deep in the forest ahead of you,

you stare into the lilac gloom...

feel the last heat of the day touching your shoulders,

and quite suddenly...

you hear music,

the smallest of lively tunes...

jaunty and haunting in lure,

it calls to you and you walk into the woods....

 

You travel on,

through echoing darks...

and a chaos of tangled vines,

you reach a clearing...

beside a stream,

silent and grey...

and beside it stands a man,

who leans against a tall bar table...

upon which rests a gramophone.

He turns to look at you...

as the music warbles on,

and you see his wolf-like eyes glint...

beneath the glass lenses he wears,

A feathered hat sits at an angle on his head...

and a fine royal purple coat,

 drapes his shoulders...

he grins the smallest of canine grin,

and lifts a lavender teacup...

to his lips,

for a drink.

 

 

He offers you a silent salute...

and then whispers these words to you;

 

'A day is coming,

soon...

soon.

Our time is slipping away to ashes...

and burning the fine leather off our souls,

we watch the storms gather...

and we break the glass amidst the rain,

but...

I have a message to give to you,

for you see...

the Sinister Meeting Room,

has sent me unto thee...

so heed.

We are falling slowly...

and with it our hearts,

and we are waiting for the blade...

but,

it is an...

invitation of sorts,

that I bring from your comrades...

at the Sinister Meeting Room.'

 

'A day or two hence,

thee must wait for the deepest of darkness...

be it shadow or gloom,

blackness of storm or night...

delve within it,

and take with you an old watch,

and watch your clock...

wait for the loudest,

most slow tick...

and stamp upon the ground,

bring up the dust...

and chant the words;

'Live me...

Live they.'

Close thy eyes and spin around...

Open them again and throw the watch down,

smash it beneath thy feet...

and wait for,

the Sinister Meeting Room's call.'

 

The man whispers to you...

tThat all we really are is white elephants,

we tiptoe about trying to hide the greatness within us...

when really we are elephants,

meant to be magnificent...

and free,

and beautiful...

and intelligent,

yet even now...

a murk has invaded our land,

and we must ward our minds against it.

 

Wait for the call...

and watch not the hours,

but the tender gears and cogs of our clocks...

and may we reach everything before our world,

crumbles.

 

For a day is coming,

soon...

soon.'

 

  That particular tale is devoted to the curious character I met in the strangest of bars...far away in a forest. We wait, and we watch and we listen.

   I hope you are all flying ahead of your storm, with the wind behind you and new wings upon your back. Take it away.

   Much Love,

     Miss CLScarlett xx