by Ledger,John
What must have been hours passed, more and more of them slipping from the sea in groups as we managed to break apart the group before them. Muck and saltwater covered our clothes, sweat pooling in every place it might as muscle and sinew began to strain with the weight of our efforts. Exhaustion left us open to mistakes, the mess of the deck causing us to slide and nearly fall several times. It was a long battle, and not easily won, but then it did not matter, for as the last of them came, so did she.
I only knew it was female because it bore a woman’s form, full breasts and pleasing hips over the horror of a thousand tentacles which swayed and moved as she did. Her mouth was rich and red, her nose twin slits in her face and those eyes, a blazing, enraged fire of crimson beneath a pointed head that could be mistaken for nothing but that of a giant squid- and she was indeed immense herself. Soon those lips spread wide, her eyes flicking back and forth as the tentacles flung wide and flailed around her, declaring her rage with a shuddering roar that echoed across the sea and shook our boat.
“What in the name of god is it?” Esteban’s eyes were wide as we looked upon her, the remaining revenants falling all around us in clattering, writhing piles of shuddering torment. We could but watch for a moment, breathing panicked breaths as we took it all in, understanding that this was our beast, our terror of the sea.
In that moment I did not stop to speak. I was tired, the relentless weight of her presence in the last few days, the horror that she had made of our ship and our men, and the threat she was to us now, her dead men sent to destroy us and failing, all of it had built up inside of me. I was done and I would have no more.
I turned away from her horror and I began to walk, my decision clear in the moment. So clear that everything else seemed as lost and cloudy to me as the fog in which she dwelt. I was numb and stiff with strain, every step jarring my frame as I walked. I did not truly feel it as she hit against the side of the ship with her massive body, her tentacles rising up and over the sides of it so that Esteban let out a cry of fear and anguish which nearly gave me pause.
A moment later he was running past me, toward I know not what, and I had reached the weapon I had sought.
I turned, facing her in all her terrible nightmarish rage, mouth flung wide with groaning bellows, tentacles wrapped tight about the frame of the Sea Witch and rocking us about, and I smiled wide, kneeling down to catch her alight.
The great cannon was a tedious bastard of a weapon, one we rarely moved for that very reason, she weighed 500 lbs if she was an ounce, and so it was usually placed here, where it could do the most to lay damage on any opposing ship or obstacle, dead center at the back of the foredeck, nearly always loaded and ready to go. We do not rely on only cannonballs aboard this ship, there are scraps of busted up swords in her, old and broken slivers that could come to no other use but shivs in a twist. All of it came roaring from its belly and straight into the chest of the she-beast that lie at the fore of the Sea Witch.
Whatever she was, whatever she had done to so readily destroy and dismember the men of our ship, she was not so fast now, catching the load straight in her middle, the cannonball ripping a great hole through her through which we could see the white cloud of the fog and the red running guts of her which bled rich crimson pools in its wake. She was not yet done, even so. No, she was mortally wounded, but the beast never stops until it has been done to death. She slithered across the boards now, moving slowly with her wounds, her tentacles less tightly gripped as they moved so that she slipped in her movements, the deck slippery with corpses and sea based vegetation. Worse, she was dragging along her own innards, dragged them out underneath her as she coughed and pushed herself to get closer to us.
Tentacles tensed and her body building for one last thrust of its great and terrible weight, she rose up off of the boards to strike, and that was when Esteban came forward with the long sword and drove the length of it deep into her left eye and out of the back. There was one great writhing slither of the corpse as it seized and moved across the boards like the squid she was, and then it flipped off of the ship in one swift movement, carried by its own dead weight.
It was quiet in its absence, the clouds beginning to drift away, and the sun to come out on the far horizon. In the pale early morning light we looked at each other in awe of all that we had been through, had survived despite the odds. We embraced with the pinks and oranges of sunrise coming into the sky, our arms locked tight around each other, finally letting go of all of the tension and horror that had befallen us as we kissed and gave in to the will of the open sea. For all our knowledge of the sea and the running of ship, it was a small miracle that we ever came ashore again. No one shall know of it but whoever shall find this log, and by then we will likely be long passed, lost to time.
THE FEEDING POND
Donald Armfield
1
Beyond the valley, deep in the woods
A small rain drop, expands over a five yard radius
The trees banishing with the winds from the east,
pause in a placid stance.
The newly formed pond, takes a calm
to its rippling effect.
A change in kinetics forces the water
into a whirlpool of oscillation.
A sprout of water propels from the downdraft,
landing on the shore, of the sudden
burgeoning pond just minutes ago.
Standing with a glimmering radiance,
in the buff with golden-color hair
hanging just below her dimples of Venus.
The slender sexy Nymph, looks puzzled---
scanning her new surroundings
unsure of her whereabouts.
2
Moments later, to the west of the forest,
a thickening fog rises out of the murky swamp.
The vomit foliage from the withered branches
lies in a heaping mess along the grounds.
The rising vapors, swirl and sketch
the open air.
A loud piercing squeal emits from the waters.
Chanting words of unknown dialect
whisper along the treescapes.
A froth skims the top layer of murky swamp.
The bubbles, and their slight acceleration
POP! Just inches above the thick overlay of the swamp.
The shroud covering gives off a boiling effect
as these gangling hags rise from the waters.
Large amounts of insects in collective behavior.
flying, crawling, a racketeering sound
of shrieks and clatter come together at the water’s edge.
The insects cling to the air, causing a shinning cupola.
With the Moon's reflecting light, and a brief pause.
Before a devouring flash. A disappearance,
fluttering off into the dark skies above.
3
The naked divinity, in a radiant glimmer.
Lets out her virtuoso melody,
a frequency outreach, a navigational wave,
riding through the clouds.
A call out into the wild, a mesmerized charm.
the animals abjure, and seek shelter.
The cries give heed to the gangly hags.
Who converge the sorry plight
of a promise for beauty.
In exchange for a cease to hunger.
4
A nearby town faces the wrath
of torment, torture, endless punishment.
For nothing less than
a forage to obtain a sufficient amount
of rations for a cannibalistic feast.
The ugly deities are in it for themselves.
The town folks follow, with strong belief
of an immortal life.
with just a short journey
to the end of the valley.
A dishonest avowal that leads to
their heads in the pond.
5
The Nymph feeds
from the feet first.
Immersing her victims in shallow depths.
Drowning, with that very moment
you gasp for your last breath.
Feeling her teeth grind down
piercing skin and cracking bones,
right along the tips of your toes.
Marinating the pond with blood
and sucking on your lymphatic vessels.
Perforating the skull, an exquisite feast to the last bite.
A dip of death, into the FEEDING POND!
THE KEEPERS OF THE KNOWLEDGE
Tina Piney
What I was is lost to history and what I am has become legend.
Alexander the Great captured Egypt in 320 BCE. I’ve never met the man, but by all written accounts he was a great believer in the use of recording and preserving knowledge and history. He had an idea that he shared through correspondence to the generals of his celebrated army, a concept that was saved and treasured. Three years later, when he died, a general named Ptolemy “inherited” Egypt and, in the memory of his friend and leader, he realized Alexander’s idea.
Alexander hypothesized that abilities and traits shown in specific families could be nurtured through selective breeding and training. He had noticed how brawn usually begat brawn. When exceptions to this rule were found, he would discover a weakness in the family of the female involved. He observed that most of his best soldiers had strong military backgrounds on both the father and mother’s side. While sharing his knowledge, he also came to learn that most of his generals were born into families where the fathers were renowned military men and the mothers were highly intelligent.
He wished to breed a group of people who could read, retain, analyse, and advise based on the historical information he was gathering. “The Keepers of the Knowledge” would be selected from the brightest men and women in Alexandria, and then only be allowed to breed among this small, illustrious group.
Ptolemy was faithful to Alexander’s vision, and selection of the group took four years. At first, it was on a volunteer basis that the people who felt themselves worthy could come forward to be considered as one of the “Keepers”. Organizers quickly realized their error. Many of the cleverest had not come forward. They did not wish to be removed from their families and become slaves to knowledge. For the most part, they were brought forward anyway.
In the end, the first group of “Keepers” consisted of six males and six females.
The group contained individuals from every background, from noble to a stowaway dragged off a boat in the harbour and saved from execution. Early in the selection process, Ptolemy recognized that the Keepers unique positions would carry a great sense of honour, and would require material comfort. Well before the final selections were made, a decadent and palatial house was constructed in the Mediterranean shore town of Rhakotis, which was to later also go under the moniker of Alexandria. In a pompous and extremely well attended ceremony, Ptolemy dedicated the house to “The Keepers of the Knowledge”. He managed, with his well-written and vigorously presented speech, to install the Keepers into the hearts and minds of Alexandria’s people. I have read the speech myself, and of course, committed it to memory. The one line, and the irony of it, haunts my dreams. In a voice that, despite its volume, could be barely heard above the cheering from the crowd, Ptolemy said, “Keepers of the Knowledge, this is your home, and from it you will look upon the sea and to the world beyond. You will forever be a guiding light to Alexandria and to Egypt.”
The Keepers were installed in their new home, and despite some protest, had chosen their partners by the end of the first lunar cycle. They devoted their lives to reading and memorizing all the information that Alexander had amassed. They organized and sent out researchers to all the lands. They charted stars, learned all of the trades, and became proficient in all languages that were known to Egypt. They then discovered new tongues and mastered them as well.
Being a “Keeper of the Knowledge” was likened to being a priest of the religion of information, Indeed, they were treated with such universal respect it seemed to be the one religion that everyone could believe in. It was decreed early on that, while they would be at the beck and call of the current ruler, they would always dedicate time to advising the people of Alexandria and set up periods when they could visit for council and knowledge for no cost. It was this common touch that made the people gather around to defend the house of the Keepers whenever it was believed they could come into danger.
The comprehension of the necessity of the Keepers transcended generations. There were never any real threats to their survival and continuation. They were given the best food and medical care. Of all the children born to the original twelve Keepers, six males and six females were chosen of the brightest. This time the tests were designed and administered by the original twelve themselves. By the time the young had reached their fourteenth birthday, it would be decided if they would become a Keeper or not. Even the rejected offspring had lives of quality because there was always a position for someone who was raised and trained by the most intelligent people alive. The discarded would have to leave the house by their fifteenth birthday. The selected would be set up in their own part of the house and wait for a mate to come of age.
And so on it went, new Keepers coming of age and developing the ability to learn and discover more than their predecessors. While the rejected young left the house, the older Keepers never did. Once a Keeper, always a Keeper. They continued to amass knowledge and advise until the day they died and were buried with honours. For three hundred years, this was the case, the same descendants in the same house until a new ruler came to power.
The descendants of Ptolemy continued to rule Egypt and an exceedingly intelligent girl named Cleopatra ascended to power. It was well known in the Keepers community that, had she not been destined to sit upon the throne, Cleopatra would have certainly become one of the keepers of her age. Though I never had the pleasure of meeting her either, I’ve had the pleasure of devouring every story and ancient record of her life. Her wit combined with her charm was legend, and although I’m sure some of what was recorded could have been influenced directly by Cleopatra, I do tend to believe most of it. If you were to ask me for council on the subject, I would be able to describe an accurate portrait of her, though it has been hundreds of years since anyone asked me anything.
Cleopatra decided to remodel the famous lighthouse of Alexandria that Ptolemy had commissioned and, after his death, his son had seen to completion. She considered the power of knowledge to be godlike, and to honour Ra, dedicated the top two tiers of the 450 foot tall structure as a library. Cleopatra’s library has become myth now, and the lighthouse documented history. I find it peculiar that no one has ever made the connection between the two.
The rest of the lighthouse was given to the Keepers. One rejected child from each generation would now become the “Keeper of the Lighthouse”. That person would live his or her life maintaining the light that guided the ships every night. Yes, that’s why they are not labelled “Lighthouse men” or “Light workers”. Thanks to Cleopatra they will forever be known as “Lighthouse Keepers”.
The world already spoke of the Lighthouse of Alexandria, and now being the home of the “Keepers”, shrouded it in a mystery to outsiders. Staff from the city could see it as they attended to the needs of the Keepers, and anyone seeking council would be welcomed into the place of knowledge, a beautifully adorned room designed expressly for the purpose. Now we would literally be the shining light of Alexandria.
Time advanced as it always does. Soon Cleopatra was gone and the rulers of Alexandria were changed again and again. Inside the lighthouse, the Keepers continued learning and reproducing. They developed ability within that even the first generation could never comprehend. No matter who ruled, the Keepers endured.
It seems almost blasphemous to skip forward and deprive you of the events that transpired and knowledge obtained, but for once, this is a story that’s
not about the knowledge, it’s about me.
It was 940AD when I was born into the sixty-third generation of the Keepers of Knowledge. From birth, even among the exceptional that surrounded me, I was extraordinary. I could devote pages upon pages to the memory of my birth and every waking and slumbering moment since, but even I would find that tedious. By the second day of life I fully comprehended the language used by the attending nurses, and by the fifth day I had mastered how to speak it. No Keeper had ever mastered a language before 3 months of age. I remember feeling the frustration of not being able to use my infant’s body to move, and focused on using my mind to isolate and develop my muscles. On day twenty one, when I pulled myself up and teetered across the room, a meeting of the elder Keepers was called.
I was allowed to attend because withholding knowledge of any kind within the Keepers was strictly forbidden. They quickly concurred that I was the Brightest of my generation and of any generation that preceded it. What I accomplished in the first three weeks of life my elders were having trouble comprehending. It was decreed that I would be accepted as a Keeper right there on the spot, instead of waiting until I turned fourteen, and that all pairing up of my generation would cease until I chose my mate from those up to three years younger or three years older.
I was hailed as the ultimate realization of the dream of Alexander the Great. My council was most prized among the people of Alexandria. Not only was the wealth of my knowledge vast, my recommendations were so accurate it was as if they were indeed passed down by the divine. The truth is, knowing the result of all ends ever recorded and how they apply to the current question or situation makes the answers crystal clear.