Of Obelisks and Order

I'm in a small, messy looking abandoned building on the outskirts of Philadelphia. I feel like I'm part of some big "How I spent my summer vacation" special. I've done more driving in the last year than in my entire life. I'm glad I have.

I sit here in this abandoned building, barred from hobos, but not from an industrious young man with a crowbar of his own, to pay my respects to the fallen. A gentleman by the name of Michael, also known as "Snore De Bliss." He and I have had our adventures. He's dead now, but a friendly spirit made a request.

It and I talked. I'm in a trance, in this abandoned building. The shadows are long and the day is short. Time has no meaning when you're in this kind of trance. You see my friends, Michael's dead, and an Abomination known as the "Obelisk" is running around on MY astral plane, causing trouble. The fact that it IS it's own plane of existence complicates things a little, but it's nothing I haven't seen before. Okay, scratch that, I haven't seen anything on this SCALE before, but otherwise it's nothing I haven't seen before.

I've got "King of the Rock/Sucka MCs" by No More Kings on loop as I sit here. My fingers roll off the keyboard of their own volition. I don't know what this will actually look like when I'm done, but I'm hoping that I'll wake up in a few hours with all my objectives complete.

-SPOILER ALERT!- YOUR HAUGHTY LITTLE HOUDINI IMITATOR ONCE AGAIN PULLS OUT A VICTORY AGAINST THE MOST LOATHSOME OF OMNIPOTENT COSMIC HORRORS THIS UNIVERSE CAN BEAR THE BRUNT OF SUSTAINING. UNFORTUNATELY FOR THE AUDIENCE, I HAVE RELINQUISHED THE WIND FROM HIS ASTRAL SAILS IN ONE FELL SWOOP, AND REALLY TAKEN THE DRAMATIC TENSION OUT OF THIS ENTIRE TRANSCRIPT, WITH THE ABOVE. HOWEVER, MY OPPORTUNITY TO WAX POETIC ONLY WIDENS IN REGARD TO THIS, AND I WILL NOW SHOW YOU THE FOLLY OF THE HUMAN RACE.
My objectives:
-Give Michael and Lucy a chance to go wherever they're heading in the next life.
-Give the Obelisk the fucking boot.

WHY, OH PENSIVE YOUNG NICK, WOULD I -EVER- LET YOUR NEAR YOUR FLITTING, PATHETIC ASSOCIATE HAD I A USE LEFT FOR HIM? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU ARE CAPABLE OF AN INCURSION INTO -MY- REALM VOID OF A GUARANTEE OF COMPLETE ANNIHILATION UNLESS I SO DESIRED TO PERMIT YOUR ENTRANCE? I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE TAKEN OFF THE DOOR HINGES, TORN OFF THE FOUNDATION AND BORED A HOLE IN THE ENTRANCE-WAY BIG ENOUGH FOR ONE OF YOUR TRACTOR TRAILERS TO ALLOW EVEN AN IOTA OF YOUR BEING TO CROSS THE THRESHOLD. BUT I- HMM. ANOTHER. WELL, HELLO THERE YOUNG LADY. MAY I ASK YOUR NAME?

Good plan, right? I know I like it. Time to go to work. I can feel the vast plane that is the Obelisk. It's a scary fucking thing, when your mind brushes against something like this. But it is what it is. I'm seeking out Michael's soul in all this morass. Wherever he goes, he doesn't deserve to be trapped in THIS shithole.

There was once a Maiden. She observed all the comings and goings with a critical eye. Confusion reigned as she viewed the newcomer, but she was getting more used to this. This world was a complicated thing, filled with complicated people. At least the Obelisk was something she could understand.

I think I've been sitting here for hours. I'm used to waiting. For spirits, for people, for the truth. Learning to be patient has been hard, but I've gotten used to it after a lifetime of waiting.

STEAMING IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN ARROGANCE, I SEE. AS USUAL. HOW -DIFFICULT- IT MUST BE TO SIT ABOUT ON YOUR BUPKUS! SUCH HALLUCINATIONS OF GRANDEUR ARE THE DETRIMENT OF A SPECIES PROPPED UP BY THE HOPE THAT THEIR PERSONAL STRENGTH CAN OVERCOME ALL OBSTACLES, AND THE CRUTCH SUCH CONSIDERATIONS PLACE UPON THE ACQUISITION OF POWER. THE HARANGUING OF YOUR PAL WAS NOT A SADISTIC ENDEAVOR. OH, NO - YOU SEE, MICHAEL HAD A PART IN HIM I REQUIRED TO ACCOMPLISH...PERSONAL GOALS.

The otherworldly entity is a world unto himself. The Maiden has observed such thing before, and is impressed.. It is a very rare thing for an entire world to become a living, thinking creature. The questions she could ask of it! But it is not to be.

I awaken in this strange, strange world. It is an ashen wasteland. Even the skies are gray. The debris of long dead trees lie here and there. The only sign of any kind of civilization is a lone obelisk rising in the distance. That is where I must go. I walk for what feels like hours, before I remember that I'm a shaman visiting another world with my astral form. I picture this place being much closer in my mind, and feel my body shift to match the image. I'm right at the base of the Obelisk now.

I feel Michael's presence. His features are dull and complacent. His mind and soul are still intact, even if his body is gone. It's time to set him free. I can feel the Obelisk all around me. It sees through me, it knows me, but I know what it does not: The soul of man is always a million times stronger if even one person believes in it.
 

I realize that I'm smaller. My hands are smaller, my body is smaller, I'm in my other body again. I'm whoever I was in that past life that gave me this body. I can feel the weight of this entire world on me. It doesn't want me here. The Obelisk nearly burned me alive last time, this time it will want me to know and understand pain everlasting. I really, really want to get out of here.

But I always remember rule one: Keep laughing.

"Hey Mike! Why are you tied to a big freaking pillar? How about you come down here so I can take you to Lucy!"

Mike looks dazed and barely conscious.

"Ughh...oh...what? STOP FUCKING WITH MY HEAD, YOU WHITE PIECE OF SHIT!"

He's also delusional. Shit.

Observe the plight of the forgotten man. Lost within the realm of the damned. Tormented by thoughts of those long past. Pathetic, awful, yet one cannot look away.

MAN, YOU CAN SURE MAKE A NERVE-WRACKING SCENE DOUR. DOES THE HACK KEEP YOU AROUND TO KEEP HIM DOWN TO EARTH OR SOMETHING? BECAUSE YOU DO A HORRIFIC JOB AT THAT.

I shout, "Damn it! okay! I'm a woman right now, I get it! Can't your friendly neighborhood Shaman cross the divide between our world and this one and try to pull off an overly simplistic rescue??"

After a minute, Mike gets it.

He says, "Holy Jesus...Nick? Is that you, Nick?" He laughs madly, "Thank my lucky fuckin' stars! Help me out here!"

Chains start flying up at me. But I'm not where they land. I swapped places with a nice cloud. The chains are confused inside it for only a moment as I start falling downward. It's time to get tricky. Teleportation on the astral plane is easy if your head is on straight, and suddenly I'm on the ground again.

The 'Hack' has no bearing on The Maiden's existence. She is who decides if he lives or dies. The deadliest weapon is the one that is self-directed.

YOUR ASSURANCE IN YOUR LACK OF CONTROL IS AMUSING. I AM ALMOST POSITIVE THAT ONCE THE HERMAPHRODITE-HYBRID BEGINS THE HUNT WITH YOUR SCENT ON HIS MIND, YOUR TUNE WILL QUICKLY ALTER.

I start running in a long circle around the Obelisk. I'm hoping the chains will wrap around it and become useless. Instead, they stop and wait for me to come back around. When did evil attack chains start getting Genre Saavy?

The Obelisk speaks in jibes and threats. It does not understand. What it does not know, is that the Weapon will never act against the Maiden. The act of questioning why he would not seek me would be impossible for him. To address my existence would be to threaten his own. For all the ages it has lived, the Obelisk has not learned to understand.

A FAILURE TO ADDRESS CONTINGENCIES, TO ACCOMMODATE FOR UNCONTROLLABLE CIRCUMSTANCES, TO EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED, AND TO MISS CHANCES IN WHICH TO GLOAT OF SUPERIORITY. I'D HAZARD A GUESS THAT YOU ARE ANOTHER BIPEDAL, SENTIENT MEAT BAG FROM THE PLANET EARTH? MAY I REMIND YOU THAT, AS DEMONSTRATED ABOVE, I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF THE HUMILITY NECESSARY TO ACHIEVE WHAT MUST BE WROUGHT, AND THAT IT IS QUITE DANGEROUS TO UNDERESTIMATE WHAT YOU PERSONALLY ESTEEM BELOW YOUR ABILITY.

   

 Mike shouts, "They burn, Nick! Don't let'm grab you!"

The chains fly high up to meet me, which is exactly where I want them. I explode down toward the ground, blue fire pulsing off me. I smash into the chains, continuing downward toward Mike. The chains MELT, the metal forming into a molten steel ball around me. Commanding molten steel to do what I ask? On the astral plane, it's easy as hell. I spin it, forming it into a big sheet of bladed steel, hack off a portion of the chains on Mike with it.

The Maiden considers this statement. She would hazard that she is in fact a bipedal, sentient meat bag. She is most certainly not from earth, and even more so not what you would refer to as "Human", if that is what bipedal sentient meat bag refers to. She is still technically a bipedal sentient meat bag. She is what she always was, a weapon bound to a machine like a thousand gears spinning in perfect unison. But she was the gear that chose to spin the other way. She finds this interview to be fascinating, however short-lived it might be. The maiden has so few chances to speak with someone on her history.

I yell, "The fire in my soul burns hotter than any chain!"

Mike attempts to free himself of the rest of the chains, but they only tighten their grasp and burn more marks onto his soul's skin.

SO CONTENT WITH YOUR STATUS AS A TOOL. IT IS STRANGE, YET AN ENLIGHTENING VISTA INTO THE SENTIENT CONDITION. YOU TREAD A PATH WALKED BY FEW BUT HARRIED WITH MANY FAULT LINES, AS DOES YOUR SUBORDINATE. SPEAKING OF OUR LITTLE SHAMAN, HOW RUDE OF YOU TO DELIVER THIS MENACE FROM HIS PENANCE! TSK, TSK. HIS ENTRAPMENT IS A KARMIC NECESSITY, NICHOLAS DWYER! YOU ONLY BURY YOURSELF IN THIS MEANINGLESS DISPLAY OF POWER!

I form the sheet of steel into a sword, and starts hacking away at the chains, shouting as I do:

"You know what Mike? I had a lot of things in the works for today. I was going to visit Ryuu, get drunk, Relax a bit. My Girlfriend broke up with me the other day. You DIED something like a month or two ago, and what a ridiculous way to go THAT was. Then some spirit goes, 'Hey Nick! Bail him out!' Jumping Jesus Christ on Crutches, Mike! HOW DID YOU MANAGE ALL OF THIS!"

Subordinate? she considers this concept. She takes another moment to contemplate if the weapon counts as a Him, a Her, or an It? She settles on Him as a general pronoun. If it was as simple as him being a subordinate, it would not be nearly so complicated. Sadly, it IS more complicated. One thing is certain however. The Maiden is no shaman. She is a killer.

"Long story, boss...man?"

Oh right. My astral form is Female. He throws off the last of the chains, and they retract into the Obelisk. The ashen world around us begins to rumble, and the ground below our feet starts to crumble and crack as a crevasse begins to tear itself into existence.

He says, "Uhh, Nick? I think it's time we HAULED ASS!"

OH, FOR CERTAIN. THE AIR, THE ATTITUDE, THE UNCARING CONFIDENCE. A BEING WHO RADIATES DEATH AND DECIMATION, TO BE SURE. BUT THE AUDIENCE! I MUST APOLOGIZE PROFUSELY FOR LOSING TRACK OF MY MAIN POINT. AS YOU WATCH THIS SPECTACLE UNFOLD, A BEAUTIFUL CACOPHONOUS CLIMAX TO A TALE WHOSE COURSE HAS RUN OUT AS WOULD A SHRIVELING RIVER'S ESSENCE, WHAT DO YOU TAKE AWAY? WHAT DO THEY, THE ACTORS, TAKE AWAY AS WELL? A SOUL, A MEASLY SPIRIT? THE REAFFIRMATION OF A MAD WITCH DOCTOR'S ARROGANT ATTITUDE? INDEED, NOTHING COMES OF THIS FACADE BUT A MINOR MIGRAINE AND A NOSEBLEED IN THE TRUE REALITY WITHIN WHICH OUR PROTAGONIST DESPERATELY ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE. WHAT IS HE THERE, MIGHT YOU ASK? HE AMOUNTS NOW IN THAT DESPICABLE PLACE TO WHAT MICHAEL BLIGHTWELL DID UNDER MY UNWAVERING POWER - ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

I grabs Snore's hand, and give the air around us a gentle push. This world is like the astral plane, and that means I can do all manner of fun things. We go blasting across the landscape, the land crumbling underneath us.

Sometimes, for want of a nail, a kingdom is lost. Sometimes, the only battles that matter are those in the world of dreams and nightmares. The Maiden observes, and she notes: he's still holding the metal he formed into a sword. Why?

The rest of the ashen waste falls away in a moment, and darkness descends on us. Where are we? A bountiful forest springs up around us. The trees are enormous and gorgeous, spiraling miles into the turquoise sky, polka-dotted by suns and stars all over. Mike's face is overcome with horror as we see it all.

Mike wailed, "No, no, fuck no! Not here again, jesus christ not here again!"

From the bushes descend a terrifying swarm of animal limbs - doe legs, goat heads, wolf bodies and tails, lopping and skittering and prancing across the forest in pursuit of us. They're weird pseudo-animals, made of an amalgamation of a different parts from different animals, a weird Frankenstein's Monster style parade of a mad doctor's wet dream. At its head, there stands a monstrosity with the torso of a man, the head of a wolf, and the legs and horn of an enormous goat.

AHH, YES. MY MOST FAVORITE ALLIES! FOR WHEN THE ANKHALANKHS RANGE FREE, NOT EVEN MAGIC IS SAFE TO KEEP ONE'S MIND IN PLACE!

The trees begin to shift around the tide in impossible ways, joining with the beasts in one moment, at the next being dragged across their surface as an enormous log would be buffeted by the ocean. I wasn't in the mood. I hand the giant sword I formed from the chains to Michael.

I say, "Don't be confused by the weight. It weighs nothing because this is magic. You don't need to explain it, it just is."

Then I draw my sword.

Then I say, "And I don't care HOW terrifying this place is, TREES BURN."

With that, I feel the energy in the world around us. With a snap of my wrist, I propel both of us forward at the horde. We swing our swords as we go, blue fire arcing through the air around us as we charge.

That one with the goat head looks particularly delicious. Mmmm. You find many odd morsels when hunting on the trail.

The horde parts way as we scythe their way through, the magical fire scaring the primitive beasts back. Around us, reality becomes hazardous. I can see universes where we are both massacred, skewered and torn piece by piece in awful spectacles of gore and chaos. In a moment, as the last bit of the horde falls away, burnt or slashed, melted or vivisected, we burst into a clearing, and there it is - the Obelisk, ascending high into the sky, shaded only by the enormous canopy above.

WELL, THEY AREN'T THE SMARTEST OF CREATURES, TO BE SURE. ALTHOUGH I EXPECTED THEM TO KEEP THIS DUO DELAYED A BIT LONGER, THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. WELCOME, NICOLAS DWYER AND MICHAEL BLIGHTWELL! OUR AUDIENCE IS DUTIFULLY WAITING FOR THE COUP DE GRACE. WITH BAITED BREATH, THEY HAVE FOLLOWED YOUR RECKLESS ADVENTURES, PENNING THEIR HOPES ON THE RESOLUTION OF AN ULTIMATE FINALE, A FANTASTIC CLIMAX, THE ORGASMIC RELEASE OF EMOTIONAL TENSION THAT SO PERMEATES THE THEATRICAL ATMOSPHERE UPON WHICH WE PLAY! OH, I CAN TASTE THE INTENSITY! IT BURNS ME NOW, SO CLOSE TO THAT INIMITABLE PRECIPICE OF FREEDOM!

The Maiden considers the nature of the Obelisk. She determines that perhaps he needed to get out more? Paradoxically, there is no way that he can. He's a giant building within a world of his own creation, after all.

    I say, "You've GOT to be shitting me. Mike, we've got to go through it to get back to the exit, don't we?"

    Mike says, "Seems like the perfect way to round this off." He glances over to me, and grins hopefully. "Well, Mr. Sage-man, you ready to head home?"

I RESENT THAT LITTLE JAB, MISSY. I MANAGE MY HEALTH PERFECTLY IN RELATION TO MY PERSONAL NECESSITIES. BUT I SHALL NOT BE DISTRACTED! YES, THIS IS THE TRUE FINALE. MY PARTING EPILOGUE FOR THE VIEWERS AT HOME, SITTING ON THEIR COMFORTABLE CHAIRS, PERUSING THIS MASTERPIECE AS IT DRAWS TO A CLOSE. I PROMISED YOU A TWIST BEFORE, AND ALTHOUGH I AM NOT THE MOST MORAL OF INDIVIDUALS, IT WOULD PAIN MY CONSCIOUS TO BREAK A PROMISE OF SUCH CALIBER. YOU ARE ALL SUCH WELL BEHAVED PARTICIPANTS, TOO, WATCHING WITH SHOCK AS THE TRAGIC FIGURE OF SNORE-DE-BLISS STRUGGLED FOR PEACE, GASPED IN SOLITUDE, AND PASSED AWAY. YOU OBSERVED WITH AWE AS HE AND MARLEY ESCAPED MY GRASP IN CALIFORNIA. BUT WHAT DOES THE NIGHTMARISH MONSTER CHASING HIM HAVE IN STORE THAT WOULD SO THOROUGHLY RATTLE THE FOUNDATIONS OF THIS ENDEAVOR? NAUGHT BUT THIS ONE FACT: I -AM- THE STUPDENOUS MENACE HIMSELF, SNORE-DE-BLISS, ALSO KNOWN AS MICHAEL BLIGHTWELL, AND I EMERGE VICTORIOUS, EVEN THROUGH DEFEAT. GOOD NIGHT, DEAR FRIENDS IN REALITY. GOOD NIGHT, DEAR MAIDEN. I HOPE WE GET TO CHAT AGAIN. UNTIL THEN, STAY  NOSTALGICALLY DREAMING!

Time moves in mysterious ways. And so the case of Michael Blightwell flows onward. Saving a soul today causes chaos in the past, as well as the future, while having no affect on the present. One circle is complete. Now on to the next.

And suddenly, I find myself awake, staring up at Mike.

I say, "Time to go find your girl in the afterlife." 

We were out of Obelisk land and back in something like reality. Michael was floating around me, and ready to go on to a real afterlife. 

"What...Lucy? Oh jesus christ this is going to be strange. But...I can hear her. Hee hee, I can hear her now. She's serenading me, in that lovely voice of hers. Nick, can I talk to you for a second before I leave? I need to clear the air about some things."

I manage to say, "Fire away. I'm not just a taxi service to the great beyond. I take the spiritual guide thing pretty seriously."

The air around us is covered in a fine mist, and two doors can be seen on either side of me. Just like always, one white, and one black.

Mike says, "Well, I gotta say thank you for all the help you've given me in this ridiculous bullshit. Although I'm let down that my normal life's completely over now...to be frank, the fear that death equated to nonexistance lingered over me almost every day of my adult life. So I did things that I really shouldn't have done in the past, and really mired myself up in some events I could have avoided, because I thought I needed to see it all before I became meaningless. But now I have this second chance, and I'm not intent on wasting it. So thank you for that opportunity."

"Not a Problem. incidentally, you'll notice a door to the right of me, and a door to the left of me. One white, one black. The black one doesn't lead to hell, and the white one doesn't lead to heaven. Where they go I can't tell you...as I have no idea. But I know that the dead go through one or the other at the end. Go through the one that you feel is right."

"The right one, huh?" Mike grasps his chin for a moment, deep in contemplation. "Well, I'm not a man to choose based on whimsy."

Reaching into the back of his pocket, he pulls out a spiritual quarter. It's amazing the things people bring into the land of the dead.

He says, "Heads, we go to Olympus. Tails, into the Land of the Dead."

With a ting, the coin goes sailing into the air, and after a few rotations comes sailing down into Mike's outstretched palm. He flips the coin onto the back of his other hand, and reveals the face of George Washington, emblazoned upon soul-colored silver.

"Well, shit. Heard her voice coming from there anyway." A smile graces his face as he walks up to me and gives me a firm handshake. "I'm just sorry we couldn't knock some booze down together. Promise you'll visit?" 

He pauses, watching the White Door nervously. I don't blame him. Nobody wants to admit when it's time to go. Not at first anyway.

I shake his hand, breaking him out of his reverie, and say, "I'll stop by some time. Although...it always looks weird. Keep in mind, it's a place for the Soul, wherever it is. The living can't really comprehend it."

"Hey, whatever works best for you, holmes." Striding over to the door, Mike reaches for the handle before remembering something and turning back to me: "How's Slim Jim treating you?"

"No better, no worse. It is what it is. Goodbye Mike. I wish you luck. You deserved better."

"Terrible thing, isn't it? You get chased by a fat guy, or you get chased by a skinny fuck. Bulemia or anorexia, and you can't even take your pick!" He laughs, although it sounds insincere. "See you too. And hey, I'm not out of it completely! I still got Lucy to deal with. You keep safe, alright? And stop by for a round if needed."

The door closes swiftly behind him.

------


I woke up five minutes ago to the vast supply of What The Fuck that is this post. I don't really understand any of it, and when I look at anything "Maiden" wrote, I get a massive headache.Michael is off to the afterlife, and that's what counts.


And Redlight is playing with Tree Juice that cuts holes in the Veil or Barrier or whatever the fuck have you between this world and the astral plane. Fuck.

Fuckedy Fuck Fuckerson. Son of Anal Sex. There are no words to describe how bad this is. I've got MORE work to do.