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{"At some time in our lives a devil dwells within us,
causes heartbreaks, confusion and troubles.
We then either revolt or live as slaves to darkness.”
Theodore Roosevelt.}
{Ghosts learn not to say “I told you so.” But I wanted to tell Roland that.
After all, who was the beloved writing genius, him or me, Samuel Clemens?
It was too late, of course. He had already walked through the Door of Nasah, of testing. The ghost of Marlene Dietrich and I had been severed from him.
‘Course, whoever tried to cut us off from Roland hadn’t counted on the Valkyrie linking the three of us earlier back in our adventures.
But for a time, Roland is trapped by himself back in Meilori’s, facing his double. Now, let Roland tell his tale.}:
The me that sneered back into my eyes wasn't me, of course. Who was he? There was only one person in my novels who wore the faces of other people to mock them.
DayStar.
Who is DayStar you ask?
Good question. In my novels he was an almost supremely powerful paranormal who suffered from a unique delusion. The name he went by was a clue to his delusion.
DayStar. It was the English translation of the Latin name found in the Vulgate version of the book of Isaiah. The Latin name 'Lucifer.'
In my novels, I left it for the reader to decide if he was delusional or not. But if the Rind I had seen earlier here at Meilori's had been the real Death, who was this DayStar?
And did I really want to know?
He raised a hand absently, and the crowd around him froze. I went cold. He smiled colder.
“That is the least of what I am capable of, champion of truth.”
He face screwed up. “Truth? Bah! Truth is what I say it is.”
“You don’t look like President Obama.”
“You task me, talking monkey. You task me. Those who own the studio’s, the news outlets, the governments? I own them. They are puppets who dance when I pull their strings.”
“Gee, your fingers must get tired.”
His eyes said he wanted to rip off my lips. “What does it take to destroy you?”
Any answer to that seemed stupid or suicidal, so I merely said, “You’re behind the murder of the ghost of Hemingway?”
“Oh, puh-lease. That simple gambit?”
“Not so simple to me.”
His copy of my face sneered, “The clues are right in front of you. Hemingway BY your bed. That tramp IN your bed. Clues!”
“I don’t see ….”
“No. You do not see.”
He took in a deep breath. “Nor do you ask the obvious questions :
Why was that German actress in your bed in the first place?
Why was Hemingway by your bed? What was by Hemingway?
Marlowe literally handed you the answer, and you stared at it with all the awareness of a cow ready for slaughter.”
He stood there calmly, but his shadow flexed its fingers, then clenched them. And that creeped me out more than I can say.
“Marlene actually spoke the clearest clue, and you went on your way blindly like some ….”
He smiled wide. “… talking monkey.”
He gazed towards a horizon only he could see :
“Why would I want to kill the ghost of Hemingway and end his eternal wandering? All who die faithless are cursed to forever wander the face of your pathetic planet.”
He turned the copy of my eyes to me :
“It is why I do not want you killed. Why put a stop to your torment when you infect Marlene and Mark and thus lose them?”
I frowned, “So you don’t want me killed?”
He sighed as if at some addled child. “You are a virus, infecting each person you meet with your damnable worldview.”
He glared at me with my own eyes, unnerving the hell out of me :
“You inoculate by giving a person a mild form of the disease. I needed to undo the damage you have done by exposing them to you without that accursed faith of yours.”
I stared without understanding at the other me, and he growled,
“Rafferty was supposed to have been raped before your very eyes. That Victorian child’s death was supposed to have shattered the remnants of your faith.”
“Life happens,” I said. “So does death. Like the tides I can’t stop them. I can only be the change I want in the world.”
His eyes became slits, and he waved absently to the crowd, unfreezing them in time. “There are other ways to negate you, Talking Monkey.”
****
causes heartbreaks, confusion and troubles.
We then either revolt or live as slaves to darkness.”
Theodore Roosevelt.}
{Ghosts learn not to say “I told you so.” But I wanted to tell Roland that.
After all, who was the beloved writing genius, him or me, Samuel Clemens?
It was too late, of course. He had already walked through the Door of Nasah, of testing. The ghost of Marlene Dietrich and I had been severed from him.
‘Course, whoever tried to cut us off from Roland hadn’t counted on the Valkyrie linking the three of us earlier back in our adventures.
But for a time, Roland is trapped by himself back in Meilori’s, facing his double. Now, let Roland tell his tale.}:
The me that sneered back into my eyes wasn't me, of course. Who was he? There was only one person in my novels who wore the faces of other people to mock them.
DayStar.
Who is DayStar you ask?
Good question. In my novels he was an almost supremely powerful paranormal who suffered from a unique delusion. The name he went by was a clue to his delusion.
DayStar. It was the English translation of the Latin name found in the Vulgate version of the book of Isaiah. The Latin name 'Lucifer.'
In my novels, I left it for the reader to decide if he was delusional or not. But if the Rind I had seen earlier here at Meilori's had been the real Death, who was this DayStar?
And did I really want to know?
He raised a hand absently, and the crowd around him froze. I went cold. He smiled colder.
“That is the least of what I am capable of, champion of truth.”
He face screwed up. “Truth? Bah! Truth is what I say it is.”
“You don’t look like President Obama.”
“You task me, talking monkey. You task me. Those who own the studio’s, the news outlets, the governments? I own them. They are puppets who dance when I pull their strings.”
“Gee, your fingers must get tired.”
His eyes said he wanted to rip off my lips. “What does it take to destroy you?”
Any answer to that seemed stupid or suicidal, so I merely said, “You’re behind the murder of the ghost of Hemingway?”
“Oh, puh-lease. That simple gambit?”
“Not so simple to me.”
His copy of my face sneered, “The clues are right in front of you. Hemingway BY your bed. That tramp IN your bed. Clues!”
“I don’t see ….”
“No. You do not see.”
He took in a deep breath. “Nor do you ask the obvious questions :
Why was that German actress in your bed in the first place?
Why was Hemingway by your bed? What was by Hemingway?
Marlowe literally handed you the answer, and you stared at it with all the awareness of a cow ready for slaughter.”
He stood there calmly, but his shadow flexed its fingers, then clenched them. And that creeped me out more than I can say.
“Marlene actually spoke the clearest clue, and you went on your way blindly like some ….”
He smiled wide. “… talking monkey.”
He gazed towards a horizon only he could see :
“Why would I want to kill the ghost of Hemingway and end his eternal wandering? All who die faithless are cursed to forever wander the face of your pathetic planet.”
He turned the copy of my eyes to me :
“It is why I do not want you killed. Why put a stop to your torment when you infect Marlene and Mark and thus lose them?”
I frowned, “So you don’t want me killed?”
He sighed as if at some addled child. “You are a virus, infecting each person you meet with your damnable worldview.”
He glared at me with my own eyes, unnerving the hell out of me :
“You inoculate by giving a person a mild form of the disease. I needed to undo the damage you have done by exposing them to you without that accursed faith of yours.”
I stared without understanding at the other me, and he growled,
“Rafferty was supposed to have been raped before your very eyes. That Victorian child’s death was supposed to have shattered the remnants of your faith.”
“Life happens,” I said. “So does death. Like the tides I can’t stop them. I can only be the change I want in the world.”
His eyes became slits, and he waved absently to the crowd, unfreezing them in time. “There are other ways to negate you, Talking Monkey.”
****
I can relate to the initial blog pix. I like it. I may have to lift it for a future post of my own.
ReplyDelete- -
He face screwed up. “Truth? Bah! Truth is what I say it is.”
“You don’t look like President Obama.”
- -
I like that bit of dialogue. Very apt.
Sorry its taken me so long to drop by Roland - I've been busy with some writing adventures of my own lately. I can't really catch up on all the posts over the last week - my, are you ever diligent to your blog - but I'm enjoying this post immensely.
It seems you are a master at serial writing. I know I've missed a few important events, but I also feel you've written this series in a manner that allows each post to stand alone. I don't feel too lost.
I really wanted to watch the video, but I'm having some blogger problems and nothing is loading correctly - even on my own site. CURSES!!
Anyway . . it seems you are at the climax of your series here. Some plot questions are being answered - asked, at least, in a leading format - and the character plots are coming clear. Without backpedalling and reading the last week, I'm getting the feeling that Marlene is not as innocent as she appeared at first writing.
An intriguing mystery that. You've done a good summation of the relevant plot points in this excerpt, which is why I feel so caught up. I like that in a mystery. Sometimes, even when I read cover to cover all the way through on a mystery novel - I forget some plot points, and feel as if I need to go back and reread the novel - taking sufficient notes - to catch myself up.
Not so this mystery. You're doing an excellent job of keeping the reader informed without rehashing all the convoluted hints. I still have some figuring out to do on my own - but it doesn't seem an impossible task.
To me, that is an awesome feat. Mystery genre is not my first choice for reading pleasure b/c of the complicated plots and subplots - but I do love puzzles. This has been an interesting, fun series.
Your writing strength is this, IMO, has been the descriptive prose: His eyes said he wanted to rip off my lips; He stood there calmly, but his shadow flexed its fingers, then clenched them. And that creeped me out more than I can say; He gazed towards a horizon only he could see; He sighed as if at some addled child; He glared at me with my own eyes, unnerving the hell out of me,
Not all the phrases I liked, but you get my drift I hope. I truly wish I could think like that. Your verbiage always sticks in my mind, long after I shut down the computer. Its why I come here last on my blog rounds; to spend time and enjoy and let it steep my dreams.
Catch you around more often now, I hope.
............dhole
Donna : Thanks for commenting, giving me your take on how I'm succeeding in making a serial comprehensible.
ReplyDeleteLes Edgerton reminded us some days back that a book is a long journey. Agents want to know if we have it in us to complete such a journey in a professional, timely fashion.
They look for clues. One such clue could well be how regular our blog posts are. Do we maintain creativity from post to post? Do we strive to tweak the interest of our readers each post?
I really appreciate such an indepth look at my post, Donna. It appears life has been challenging for you of late. I hope things at work go smoothly for awhile for you. Roland
Damn Roland! You are not at a loss for powerful words...I love the narrative voice of Daystar! Keep writing!
ReplyDeleteamazing as always~ And LOL at your initial poster... !
ReplyDeleteI wonder what the ghost of Roland might have to say about my blog post today. I would love to hear his (or Sam's or Ernie's) thoughts~ :o)
what an awesome post. thanks for folowing my blog. I look forward to reading more of yours.
ReplyDelete...love the Obama comment! Timed it like a sinker ball on a two strike count.
ReplyDeleteDonna's correct in saying that your strength is descriptive pose. It's what urges a reader to visit often.
Well done as always.
So many great thoughts! This is my favorite graph:
ReplyDelete“Life happens,” I said. “So does death. Like the tides I can’t stop them. I can only be the change I want in the world.”
Terry : Thanks for the praise. That last statement comes close to my personal code. Guess that's whmy Avatar said it.
ReplyDeleteElliot : Congrats on finishing the revision without it finishing you. Your supportive comments help my flagging spirits.
Teenage Bride I'm happy you like my blog and post. I liked yours as well. Don't be a stranger.
LTM : I dropped by your blog and commented on your thought-provoking post. Way to go.
Slushpile : DayStar is challenging to write. I hear Anthony Hopkins when he speaks. Thanks for liking his narrative voice.
Donna : Congrats on becoming published!!
I love the origin of the name Daystar--I had no idea! I love how real the voices sound in your writing. Excellent!
ReplyDeleteI like the fact that I'm not quite sure if Daystar is delusional or not makes the story that much more interesting. Good call!
ReplyDeleteWell done, Roland. The Adversity poster was a superb intro to this installment. I, too, loved the "life happens" dialogue. And I'm fascinated by the Daystar/Lucifer connection. I've always wondered how Lucifer could be the light bearer, but I know virtually nothing about angels. Piques my curiosity. Unlike a few other readers, the Obama quip pulled me out of the story. Roland's quick wit is present whenever he's in the scene, but the humor always tells us about his character. This line felt like a well-timed yet misplaced one-liner. Regardless, amazing work!
ReplyDeleteI seriously loved the dialogue in this scene. Daystar is so sharp tonged and I enjoyed the back and forth. And as always I enjoyed the descriptive but easy to read prose. AND the mounting drama...I love collecting clues.
ReplyDelete“Truth? Bah! Truth is what I say it is.”
“You don’t look like President Obama.”
So apt. So true.
Lucifer was created the most beautiful, most adored, and most important angel-he was head of praise and worship, head of the musical part of heaven. He was supposed to be the bright spot.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, loved this beyond my ability to express. The back and forth, Roland's indomitable spirit, his rock solid beliefs, his courage....he probably seems like a giant that needs knocking down to characters like DayStar. Makes them feel as small as they must really be.
You know I'm going to be looking for those clues this weekend, right?
Beautiful insight to the character.