[Awakening] Auld Lang Syne (January 1st, 2000 - Time Unknown) - [Ending 2 of 2]
[Continued from Part One... written semi-stream of concisousness one pass and done, I'd love thoughts and comments]
If you didn't come to party
Don't bother knockin' on my door
I got a lion in my pocket
And baby, he's ready to roar
Legend stood looking at the abyss, the sound of flesh and metal echoing as he passed through Legba's gates, the sky closer, the darkness thicker far below. His knees were weak and he felt his being pulled in two directions like a bone caught in the toothy grip of two dogs.
As he stood growing colder, the world.... this world grew clearer, the mists and faint shadows that he'd barely heard prior becoming solid forms and voices clamoring in wailing tones. And yet the darkness stretched below him hungry for every note and echo, ever mot of light as it pulled at him.
The tall angelic man, felt himself grow weaker and his knees began to buckle and the darkness draw him in, his rest and call to eternal silence ruined by the mocking tones of a strangely familiar laugh from across the chasm. A rumbling sound from the belly that carried like the beast king's call across the savannahs of ancient homelands.
Yeah, everybody's got a bomb
We could all die any day
But before I'll let that happen
I'll dance my life away
That laugh... that fucking laugh... his eyes drawn away from the siren-song quiet of the abyss Legend turned his eyes across the chasm, his feet lighter, as he continued upon the soft silver road across towards the sound of that laugh. As he drew closer the images grew clearer, shapes ethereal, intangible but still very real were dancing to a raucous and infectious beat. Not the synthetic digital sounds of jungle, trip-hop or drum and bass, but sweeter, sculpted rhythms of his past. A time before big cities and urban sprawls, the dancers circled in a sensual frenzy of the Banda, the dance erotic and lively filled with thrusting hips and caressing arms.
People of all ages and no age danced in the twinkling of formless sourceless firelight, the smells of fresh turned earth, incense, sweat, sex, and something like the sweet scent of rotting meat filled the air as with trembling feet Legend stepped off the bridge and was caught up in the dance. The whirling chaos of step and thrust like a cyclone of death, decay, sex and jubilation... and in it's eye, a tall smiling man laughing like the rumbling roar of the a line.
A man of jet black skin, bright bone bright teeth, a long black coat and tall black top hat. His nose and ears protruding tufts of gray cotton. Legend and the others dance to his tune and Papa Guede, the Good Baron Samedi laughs as he dances in the eye of his storm.
They say two thousand zero, zero, party over,
Oops, out of time!
(We're runnin' outta time)
So tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999!
Bodies moving, music pulsing, death is dancing... gunfire, smoke, fire, screaming... An ebon man waiting, a whirl of motion, a frenzy of action with no purpose... pain, blood filled coughs, numbing limbs.
Time what was, what might have been, and what could be colliding into the nothingness of the now.
The tall man in tattered, blood-stained white down, falling, sprawled upon hands and knees, looking up... and up... and up at the ebon skinned Loa he had forgetten in prayers, buried deep since the loss of the Mamba who had gone across the Saturday Gates never to return save in dreams and nightmares. Legend looked upon the Loa's face in fear, and the Lord of Death's Keeping merely laughed. Legend knew that laugh... it was home.
Words exchanged, tokens offered in supplication, twin coins of burnished copper, the devil's due the ferryman's price. The Loa laughs that rumbling mockery and takes both in hand. Considers and then looks, truly looks into the depths of the soul of ********** ********* *************** called 'Gabriel Legend'.
Say, say,
Two thousand zero, zero, party over,
Oops, out of time!
So tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999!
Looks and smiles, Ghede pockets a coin and rolls it's twin upon the ebon skinned knuckles of his hand. He smiles and bends down as if to share a joke with the upturned face of his young friend on death's door. Ghede shows him the coin, and with a wicked and mirth-filled grin balances it on the tip of one finger and rams that long digit fully into the socket of Gabriel's left eye.
An orgy of pain, a mass of anguished torturous sensation as the devil's due is refunded and forced into the window of the soul and into the soul itself, ever marked by the Lord of Saturday. The very soul-print of Legend flickering with the touch of Ghede's choice.
Alright, it's 1999!
You say it, 1999!
Pain... Sounds outside of the dance, voices filled with panic? Concern?, Samedi raises the half blind Legend to his feet and with a kick to the ass sends him reeling and spinning into the shadows beyond the sourceless firelight.
Stumbling blindly in the darkness, Darkness, cold, hard street, pressure, constant pressure on his chest, something pounding, his hands touch the cold metal smoothness of something huge... something epic... something....
1999!
Soft metal giving to his fingertips, the tower reaches into the purple sky forever he circles it's based and enters. Legend fingers can sense the many grooves and shapes carved into the walls of the tower, Hot air forced in, pressure, someone insistent... someone calling to him, telling him to do something, something important. With hands slick with blood and a chunk of bone found strewn about Legend makes his mark, etches his name like slicing runnels into his soul and flesh each letter causing waves of pain and burning in his chest, something important.
1999! Don't stop, don't stop, say it 1 more time!
Connection. Something import, so insistent, what is she saying? The lead tower, the abyss, the bridge, his soul, the darkness, the light... connected Pounding on his chest, shaking him, so furious so passionate, that voice, so warm? The rumbling laughter of the Baron as he waves and smiles all knowing drawing him further, he shared something... something important... what was it, what is she saying? What is she... BREATHE!!!
AWAKEN
BREATHE.
AWAKEN
Her voice demanding and insistent, "Live you fuckin' cocksuckin' black son of a bitch, you fuckin' live or I'm gonna rip your fuckin' pissaint fuckin' soul out and beat you up side the fuckin' head with it!!! BREATHE!"
And so he did, looking up at her his eyes... both his eyes open he gazes into the face of a foul mouthed savior... an angel with a dirty face, and the only thing he can say through the blood and the coughing, as he stares up at those two mismatched orbs of green and brown, "You got eyes just like that fucker's" Before the darkness of unconsciousness, but living unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
Just goes to show some Legends never die.
1999!
If you didn't come to party
Don't bother knockin' on my door
I got a lion in my pocket
And baby, he's ready to roar
Legend stood looking at the abyss, the sound of flesh and metal echoing as he passed through Legba's gates, the sky closer, the darkness thicker far below. His knees were weak and he felt his being pulled in two directions like a bone caught in the toothy grip of two dogs.
As he stood growing colder, the world.... this world grew clearer, the mists and faint shadows that he'd barely heard prior becoming solid forms and voices clamoring in wailing tones. And yet the darkness stretched below him hungry for every note and echo, ever mot of light as it pulled at him.
The tall angelic man, felt himself grow weaker and his knees began to buckle and the darkness draw him in, his rest and call to eternal silence ruined by the mocking tones of a strangely familiar laugh from across the chasm. A rumbling sound from the belly that carried like the beast king's call across the savannahs of ancient homelands.
Yeah, everybody's got a bomb
We could all die any day
But before I'll let that happen
I'll dance my life away
That laugh... that fucking laugh... his eyes drawn away from the siren-song quiet of the abyss Legend turned his eyes across the chasm, his feet lighter, as he continued upon the soft silver road across towards the sound of that laugh. As he drew closer the images grew clearer, shapes ethereal, intangible but still very real were dancing to a raucous and infectious beat. Not the synthetic digital sounds of jungle, trip-hop or drum and bass, but sweeter, sculpted rhythms of his past. A time before big cities and urban sprawls, the dancers circled in a sensual frenzy of the Banda, the dance erotic and lively filled with thrusting hips and caressing arms.
People of all ages and no age danced in the twinkling of formless sourceless firelight, the smells of fresh turned earth, incense, sweat, sex, and something like the sweet scent of rotting meat filled the air as with trembling feet Legend stepped off the bridge and was caught up in the dance. The whirling chaos of step and thrust like a cyclone of death, decay, sex and jubilation... and in it's eye, a tall smiling man laughing like the rumbling roar of the a line.
A man of jet black skin, bright bone bright teeth, a long black coat and tall black top hat. His nose and ears protruding tufts of gray cotton. Legend and the others dance to his tune and Papa Guede, the Good Baron Samedi laughs as he dances in the eye of his storm.
They say two thousand zero, zero, party over,
Oops, out of time!
(We're runnin' outta time)
So tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999!
Bodies moving, music pulsing, death is dancing... gunfire, smoke, fire, screaming... An ebon man waiting, a whirl of motion, a frenzy of action with no purpose... pain, blood filled coughs, numbing limbs.
Time what was, what might have been, and what could be colliding into the nothingness of the now.
The tall man in tattered, blood-stained white down, falling, sprawled upon hands and knees, looking up... and up... and up at the ebon skinned Loa he had forgetten in prayers, buried deep since the loss of the Mamba who had gone across the Saturday Gates never to return save in dreams and nightmares. Legend looked upon the Loa's face in fear, and the Lord of Death's Keeping merely laughed. Legend knew that laugh... it was home.
Words exchanged, tokens offered in supplication, twin coins of burnished copper, the devil's due the ferryman's price. The Loa laughs that rumbling mockery and takes both in hand. Considers and then looks, truly looks into the depths of the soul of ********** ********* *************** called 'Gabriel Legend'.
Say, say,
Two thousand zero, zero, party over,
Oops, out of time!
So tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999!
Looks and smiles, Ghede pockets a coin and rolls it's twin upon the ebon skinned knuckles of his hand. He smiles and bends down as if to share a joke with the upturned face of his young friend on death's door. Ghede shows him the coin, and with a wicked and mirth-filled grin balances it on the tip of one finger and rams that long digit fully into the socket of Gabriel's left eye.
An orgy of pain, a mass of anguished torturous sensation as the devil's due is refunded and forced into the window of the soul and into the soul itself, ever marked by the Lord of Saturday. The very soul-print of Legend flickering with the touch of Ghede's choice.
Alright, it's 1999!
You say it, 1999!
Pain... Sounds outside of the dance, voices filled with panic? Concern?, Samedi raises the half blind Legend to his feet and with a kick to the ass sends him reeling and spinning into the shadows beyond the sourceless firelight.
Stumbling blindly in the darkness, Darkness, cold, hard street, pressure, constant pressure on his chest, something pounding, his hands touch the cold metal smoothness of something huge... something epic... something....
1999!
Soft metal giving to his fingertips, the tower reaches into the purple sky forever he circles it's based and enters. Legend fingers can sense the many grooves and shapes carved into the walls of the tower, Hot air forced in, pressure, someone insistent... someone calling to him, telling him to do something, something important. With hands slick with blood and a chunk of bone found strewn about Legend makes his mark, etches his name like slicing runnels into his soul and flesh each letter causing waves of pain and burning in his chest, something important.
1999! Don't stop, don't stop, say it 1 more time!
Connection. Something import, so insistent, what is she saying? The lead tower, the abyss, the bridge, his soul, the darkness, the light... connected Pounding on his chest, shaking him, so furious so passionate, that voice, so warm? The rumbling laughter of the Baron as he waves and smiles all knowing drawing him further, he shared something... something important... what was it, what is she saying? What is she... BREATHE!!!
AWAKEN
BREATHE.
AWAKEN
Her voice demanding and insistent, "Live you fuckin' cocksuckin' black son of a bitch, you fuckin' live or I'm gonna rip your fuckin' pissaint fuckin' soul out and beat you up side the fuckin' head with it!!! BREATHE!"
And so he did, looking up at her his eyes... both his eyes open he gazes into the face of a foul mouthed savior... an angel with a dirty face, and the only thing he can say through the blood and the coughing, as he stares up at those two mismatched orbs of green and brown, "You got eyes just like that fucker's" Before the darkness of unconsciousness, but living unconsciousness swallowed him whole.
Just goes to show some Legends never die.
1999!