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{The Lakota call me the Turquoise Woman, lover of few things man-made. You may call me Gaia if it makes you feel more comfortable.
Man's words I value.
I have been reading the journal of Roland sometimes called Little Lakota from his mother's blood. Other times he is called DreamSinger.
When I last left these pages, Roland had followed my adopted son, Samuel McCord, into the Kol Basar -- that realm some call Hell.
DreamSinger's words become reality as often our thoughts do on our own paths. He feels responsible for writing a novel where Samuel rushes into Hell to rescue the kidnapped Rind, the Angel of Death.
Surrounded by doomed souls, he has heard the pounding of heavy hooves from behind him. He turns and beholds a pale horse.
Let his words take us from there ...}
I turned to behold a pale horse.
It was Epona,
the unicorn I had saved in the outer courts of Hell. She was covered in sweat and panting.
And riding her was Death, reaching down for me.
"Up here, Little Lakota!"
She caught me and swung me up in front of her. Epona gasped, "I leave no friend behind."
Her repeating my words about Sam McCord hit me hard, blurring my eyes with hot tears.
A frothing minotaur rushed up at me. I slashed down with Marlene Dietrich's saber which healed. It bellowed in surprise not pain.
It blinked beady eyes in wonderment. It shimmered in bright electric lights and shot up into the dark skies.
Death drily snorted, "You have just sent another startled gate-crasher to Heaven. I do believe you're making both Hell and Heaven quite upset with you."
Epona weaved like a living streak of lightning between our attackers, and I yelled to Death over my shoulder. "What are you doing here?"
"I am where you have sent me, DreamSinger. I must join my kidnapped avatar to complete your classic fantasy."
"Classic? I don't even have an agent yet."
"Silly mortal, I exist allwheres, all times simultaneously. FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE is a classic. Do not argue with Death."
A howling werewolf charged us, and Death snapped, "Enough of this!"
She shoved me down close to Epona's sweat-wet neck.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her rear back her black- hooded head and scream. I stiffened from its bone-numbing impact.
A terrible shivering pain wracked my body, but I heard nothing but a muted "waaa-OOMPH!"
I saw strange energy shimmering and ghostly, its color the pale green of a new corpse, explode in an ever-widening circle out from Death in its center. It slammed into the screaming creatures, mowing them down like tall cedars felled by the impact of a huge meteor.
They flew up and back like leaves tossed by the coming of a frigid storm front. I swallowed hard.
Never underestimate Death. Ask Sodom and the firstborn of Egypt what she is capable of.
The shockwave of her death-scream swept out from us in ever-larger ripples of first corpse-green then spectral electric-blue.
As far as I could see out in the dim light of the Kol Basar there was nothing but a horizon of smoking corpses. I straightened in awe. I made my throat work.
"That was ... impressive."
"Hush! Attack is coming from the skies."
***
Man's words I value.
I have been reading the journal of Roland sometimes called Little Lakota from his mother's blood. Other times he is called DreamSinger.
When I last left these pages, Roland had followed my adopted son, Samuel McCord, into the Kol Basar -- that realm some call Hell.
DreamSinger's words become reality as often our thoughts do on our own paths. He feels responsible for writing a novel where Samuel rushes into Hell to rescue the kidnapped Rind, the Angel of Death.
Surrounded by doomed souls, he has heard the pounding of heavy hooves from behind him. He turns and beholds a pale horse.
Let his words take us from there ...}
I turned to behold a pale horse.
It was Epona,
the unicorn I had saved in the outer courts of Hell. She was covered in sweat and panting.
And riding her was Death, reaching down for me.
"Up here, Little Lakota!"
She caught me and swung me up in front of her. Epona gasped, "I leave no friend behind."
Her repeating my words about Sam McCord hit me hard, blurring my eyes with hot tears.
A frothing minotaur rushed up at me. I slashed down with Marlene Dietrich's saber which healed. It bellowed in surprise not pain.
It blinked beady eyes in wonderment. It shimmered in bright electric lights and shot up into the dark skies.
Death drily snorted, "You have just sent another startled gate-crasher to Heaven. I do believe you're making both Hell and Heaven quite upset with you."
Epona weaved like a living streak of lightning between our attackers, and I yelled to Death over my shoulder. "What are you doing here?"
"I am where you have sent me, DreamSinger. I must join my kidnapped avatar to complete your classic fantasy."
"Classic? I don't even have an agent yet."
"Silly mortal, I exist allwheres, all times simultaneously. FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE is a classic. Do not argue with Death."
A howling werewolf charged us, and Death snapped, "Enough of this!"
She shoved me down close to Epona's sweat-wet neck.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her rear back her black- hooded head and scream. I stiffened from its bone-numbing impact.
A terrible shivering pain wracked my body, but I heard nothing but a muted "waaa-OOMPH!"
I saw strange energy shimmering and ghostly, its color the pale green of a new corpse, explode in an ever-widening circle out from Death in its center. It slammed into the screaming creatures, mowing them down like tall cedars felled by the impact of a huge meteor.
They flew up and back like leaves tossed by the coming of a frigid storm front. I swallowed hard.
Never underestimate Death. Ask Sodom and the firstborn of Egypt what she is capable of.
The shockwave of her death-scream swept out from us in ever-larger ripples of first corpse-green then spectral electric-blue.
As far as I could see out in the dim light of the Kol Basar there was nothing but a horizon of smoking corpses. I straightened in awe. I made my throat work.
"That was ... impressive."
"Hush! Attack is coming from the skies."
***
I love the gate crashers of Heaven, what a cool thing to imagine! Ha! I would love to see the startled faces....
ReplyDeleteI also love that Epona is powerful and loyal-and that Death rides her and she is unafraid. Wow.
Again, you pull history in to add credence to your work. I hope I am able to do that as effortlessly as you.
Huh, so a generation from now, French Quarter Nocturne could very well be on English teachers' required reading lists....sweet.
As much as I want to see how this ends, I want it to go slower....cause I don't want it to end!
Whenever I am waited down by the ugly in the world, I just have to come and read your words. You are unique and you give me the beautiful that I sometimes crave. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThe Good, The Bad and The Ugly
A Fist Full of Dollars
Fore a Few Dollars More
All classic spaghetti westerns. I particularly like "angel eyes" and I really, really like Ennio Moricone's soundtracks.
I love Clint Eastwood movies! This was a good trailer to play to your action scene. The pix of Epona is beautiful too.
ReplyDeleteBut to be rescued by Death - and live . . what an amazing bit of writing. I look forward to reading French Quarter - hopefully well before it becomes a classic. I'll be just an old relic by that time myself (LOL).
Hope you're not hurting as much now Roland. Take it easy.
.......dhole
At Chapter 36, you are still going strong! Another refreshingly beauitiful post with all the makings of a classic. And I have to say, I loved the sound effect "waaa-OOMPH!"
ReplyDelete"I exsist allwheres" Love that. Death wouldn't follow linear timelines; it just makes sense:0)
ReplyDeleteChapter 36...this story is coming along nicely. Happy writing.
ReplyDeleteWoo! Take a breath...drama personified:)
ReplyDeleteThe trick to writing action is to paint the drama without rushing the reader through the scene. Allowing them to break a sweat, but out of anxiety, not fatigue from reading a literary sprint chocked full of adverbs and silliness.
But you already know that...and you finished with Clint, naturally.
Nailed another one...well done:)
EL
Elliot : It's tricky writing action in a short blog post. No real time for allowing the reader to "breathe" as we would in a novel or even a short story. Thanks for liking this one.
ReplyDeleteMedeia : Only a few more chapters left until the grand revelation. I'm glad you're enjoying the ride.
Cinette : Yes, for Death to exist All Times, All Wheres simultaneously was the only way a Death Avatar made sense to me. Happy you agree.
Amanda : Sometimes my migraines go "waaa-OMPH" too! It makes my day that you think my GHOST OF A CHANCE might stray into the neighborhood of classic.
Donna : You'll never be an old relic. And let's hope both our novels hit the bestseller lists! I, too, thought Clint's music made a good soundtrack for this ride through Hell.
Wendy : Yes, "Angel Eyes" was a great nickname. It really means a lot to me that my writing sometimes adds a bit of beauty to your day.
Words Crafter : I think, in a way, we are all gate-crashers into Heaven. None of us deserve the door opening for us. I try for a bit of a sense of humor in the midst of action to leaven out the violence.
I thought to have some fun and have Death tell all of us that my FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE is destined to become a classic. We must first believe in ourselves before we can get anyone else to, right?