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The Walking Dead

"What would you like to be? A toad, serpent, bench, signet, papyrus, pot of Cauldron? Say." What kinda crazy list was she making? How crazy she was. She couldn't even make any soothing and pleasurable form. He would take those as a message from a cherub in hell. "A necklace!" "So be it." She touch his erection (the closest thing to her) and he turned immediately into a necklace. A necklace with a green blob. She wore it around her neck and slid it into the path between the two enormous boobs. That was all Vulcan had ever wanted. That moment should never pass away... * * * Vulcan was a horror poet when he was alive. On the day when Myclops, the village priest was to dedicate the cave to Medusa, Vulcan got drunk. And in his subconsciousness, he was caught up into his fantasy. There he was met by Poseidon, the god of the sea, before a sea of glass. He was welcomed into his fantasy. There he was to act all the things he had written in his poems. It aint as easy as whichever way you are looking at it. Remember he was a horror poet. Enjoy his fantasy with him. How he met Medusa, several nymphs and fairies and discovered the secret of the wierd priest. He would fight Poseidon, Leviathan and maybe God too, because he wrote all those in his poems. * * * DISCLAIMER TO ALL THE READERS. ESPECIALLY TO THOSE WHO THINK THEY KNOW ALL. {APOLOGY IF THAT WAS RUDE} FROM CHAPTER 2 - 50 PERHAPS, THE USE OF WORDS IS QUITE REMOTE AND COULD BE A LITTLE BIT ANNOYING SINCE THE WRITER MADE AN EXCESSIVE USAGE OF "THE THIRD PERSON OMNISCIENT NARRATIVE TECHNIQUE". THAT IS, THE WRITER EXCESSIVELY PLAYED ON THE THOUGHTS OF THE CHARACTERS BY REPEATING AND REPEATING AND REPEATING WHICH COULD PRETTILY BE ANNOYING. THEREFORE, TO SAVE YOURSELF OF THE STRESS, YOU CAN SIMPLY START READING THE BOOK FROM CHAPTER 60 OR SO. DO NOT BE BOTHERED. YOU WON'T MISS OUT ON MUCH. IT'S A BOOK OF STAGES OF FANTASY. PLUS THE BOOK WILL EXTEND TO 1K CHAPTERS. SO, NO READER SHOULD GO TO THE REVIEW SECTION AND START COMPLAINING ABOUT REPETITION OF THOUGHTS OF THE CHARACTERS BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN DISCUSSED HERE. DO NOT DIMINISH THE REPUTATION OF THIS BOOK. READING IS BY CHOICE. PLUS, THE WRITER MIGHT FIND TIME TO EDIT THE MENTIONED CHAPTERS AND HELP THE READERS TO UNDERSTAND WHAT HE WAS TRYING TO DO WITH THE EXCESSIVE PLAY ON WORDS. WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF AN ANCESTOR. TO BE FOREWARNED IS TO BE FOREARMED. THANKS FOR STOPPING BY.

Zuxian · 奇幻
分數不夠
234 Chs

Duo

"Uhhh"

All he could do was look closer. He couldn't had done anything better than that. That was not some option. He felt like he needed to quit thinking, but that was in no way possible.

If he quit thinking then he'd be pawn to the mystery taunted time had just supplanted. He was tried sweeping the confetti of courage littered across the boulevard of his consciousness into his gaunt grit.

Ah! Ideas were contracting into a whole. He was spent in thoughts. That was all he could confide in at the moment.

There was nothing more he could had done. Or probably there was something, but he felt like he had no time to lodge lanky lobs of throbbing thoughts. He looked again.

This time, it was keener. Like with the closest attention you can ever afford. What would be in the water? What could be there? Of course lots of questions queued up on the track of his rage.

He could make smithereens of them all. But that was not the best option. It had never been and wouldn't be at that moment.

Why would it be? Ah! His rage was smothered by curiosity. There was nothing he could had done.

A part of him was quaking. He could discern. He could identify it. He knew that that was not some weakness.

Even when he was alive, it wasn't quite the little bit of a faker skin. Being afraid is but sewn stimulus that could be rent by shame or rage.

He didn't know which of the twain had the best part of him at that moment. And he wasn't actually trying hard to make meaning of the marred malady. He was just standing there.

He knew that he was supposed to do something. But he had no idea what precisely. Ideas began to snap at his instinct. His sixth sense would not accommodate those.

They sucked eighteen bags of annoyance. He was in not in for mood stray. He needed something keener than that. He needed to ascertain.

He would have enough time to scold his inky instinct. He would have enough time to make fool of it later, but not at that moment. All he needed was a clue.

A clue into where he was and why he was there. He had no idea how he got there. And scarcely had he got into that thought than the water had sighed and he'd been waiting to see what was there. Or was he supposed to go in?

The new thought seemed eerie. But it was somewhat sweet. Probably like candy or chocolate. He wasn't sure. It was comely and it seemed to him as though he could confide in it.

Of course he should. He should step into he water. Into the glass-like sea and see if the creature that was boring him out with curiosity would be mad and reveal itself.

That sounded great but with chances that could gulp his sanity. Not even sanity, but his whole. He moved further to try that out.

To embrace the thought and embrace his instinct. But as he moved closer he stopped. He had no choice but to do exactly so.

Ah! He thought probably a spiritual being was lurking in the air or in clusters of trees behind him and had frozen his steps. He didn't actually seem right.

Hmmm hmmm, that wasn't the appropriate guess his mental Ken would lend. But he wasn't sure why he stopped. He looked back to see if anyone was behind him.

Hell wrong he was, there was nobody there. He made another attempt to have his right foot in the seductive sea, but boom!

Shit! What the fuck was that! A dolphin? What was that supposed to mean? Had he been raising his curiosity for some dolphin to mock it?

How stupid he was. So, he had been smothering his courage because of some dolphin. He felt really ired. His eyes would pop out of his eyes.

He never mind what that would mean! His rage wrapped his instinct. He couldn't separate one from rhe other. He didn't want to.

He was simply pissed. Who would he had told that he had his heart in his mouth because of some dolphins. He felt like going into water to pick it and smack it hard for raising his hope for naught.

But nah! That was better off as worn wishes. Damn! He couldn't swim. The dolphin was few metres away. He couldn't get to it.

He watched it let the lusty lips of the water swig its whole. He wished he could do the same; jump into the water, and bury his hampered head in the coziness of its seduction.

He wished he could complement the pleasure of the annoying Dolphin, but he needed more than that.

He stepped back and travelled his gaze through the packs of trees bellicosing. The hewn beauty was quite a view.

He knew that and wouldn't prune pulpy lies. The airy atmosphere sent sassy shrills through his spines, taunting the voluptuous veins.

He couldn't resist them. He could had, but he loved the appealing sense. He needed such at the moment. That would aid his thoughts.

He knew that. But he hoped that the new thoughts to be birthed would be worthwhile and would help him make meaning of the eerie state he'd found himself.

He allowed his instinct to appreciate the beauty of nature. The clusters of trees were in such delicate forms that he'd said to himself that he hadn't seen such. Of course he hadn't.

He was living in some patch of land. Hardly did they have the bountiful harvest and he was quite the lazy Lord. Hardly would he provide for the servant who oversaw his herds and barns.

Not that he didn't have what to give, but he was quite the forgetful. He would forget everything even when he was supposed to have sex with his maiden. Ah! He was quite the odd man.

He noticed the apt azure sending shrills through the lines of its clothes. He couldn't fathom what that was. How could he had?

He didn't make an attempt to. He wasn't some elevated gods or hibernated spirituals. He was just a lord. He wasn't more than that.

The tidings of the worn winds borne by the bounty breeze bruised the sole of the earth as locks of sands in circle made acrobatics about a tree which wasn't quite far from him.

He decided to move closer to the forest. Or should he call it a jungle. He couldn't be sure. All he'd been doing from the breath of that time was guesses and that was what he was best at that moment.

He wouldn't push the feeling else he'd be pushed. He edged towards the clusters of trees.

From the sea, to his right was some endless view of stretched shore. Same sway inflected the left view. Only that was tantamount to the sea that was on earth.

But he moved forward. He needed to see some more things. He needed to know what he was doing there. He needed to be sure if he was sane or not.

He hated nursing the thought of how he got there because he simply couldn't simply fathom. He moved closer to the gaunt path which led to the heart of the forest.

Probably he would find someone who was caught in the callous claws of the same malady. Making trails was the best thing he could afford. That was the best option he could nurse.

But he felt like aiding his legs. He felt like making do with all he had. With all the parts of his body. As he tasked his legs, he complemented the twain with the wail of his thorax:

"Anyone here???? Can anyone hear me??? Can somebody hear me???"

All he got in exchange of the exercise of glottis was the moaning mimick the felon forest threw at him.

He couldn't throw it away. He couldn't make do with it. But he knew that he would savor it. He had no other choice. What choice did he have?

Of course none! He wouldn't suffer the odds. Did that mean that there was nobody in the forest? Was is he only one in the forest? How could that be? That could never be possible!

A new thought was supplanted. But it was odd to him. It was nauseating. What could he do with it? All thoughts were accommodated at the moment.

But how logical was that thought? He didn't know what to say. But he would lodge the thought. That was the only thought that was available.

He couldn't pawn it. He wouldn't pawn it. How could he?. But what sense did that make at all? He wasn't sure. But he knew what to do. He knew what meaning to make of it. But he needed more.

He was the only person left on earth? How true could that be? That was some optical illusion. His fantasy had simply supplanted a jolting jive his instinct could not pick its limb to.

Was he just supposed to sway to it? If he swayed to it, what vibe would he make of it? How would he be the only person on earth?

What had happened to the rest of the people? Where did they go to? Did they go on some mass travel? Where was his wife? His two sons? His servants and herds and barns?

What was all that supposed to mean?. And if the people had taken up some strange course, why was he at a strange spot. A strange shore. He couldn't cowtow in the powhow of such thought.

He had read what was scribbled on the cave of Tarius about a transformation which would envelope all beings. He hadn't read there that some people would be left behind.

And not even some people, but only he was left behind? That was some claptrap!

He couldn't embrace that thought. That was some hooey. It could and would never ever be true. Arrrgh! Fuck the thought.

As he walked into the forest, he felt famished. He'd been expecting that. Since he was the only one there, he had no idea since when he'd eaten.

The only memory he could reach at was the merry he had had with his sons. And he had no idea if that was some millennium ago.

He couldn't be sure of any of his thoughts. He felt more of a pawn to them. He was done fighting the thoughts. He simply gave in to them.

Whatever they could made of him suited him. He didn't hesitate. They could make their best out of him. All that mattered to him at that moment was eating.

He espied and saw some clusters of grapes. Thank goodness! At least there was something he could relate to.

All the trees he'd been seeing were strange. All the fruits he'd been seeing were strange. He'd even seen a lizard with flaming tail.

It was more of some wonderland. That was the best name to call it. Though he hadn't accosted some animals basked in ire like all panthers and the wild cats.

He could keep walking for the meantime, but the fruit should shun his hunger.

He picked some smoothe stones and aimed at the fruits as a cluster fell. A bounty bunch he wouldn't finish at a go. He sat on a fallen trunk by the tree of the grape and started eating.

About him were trees littered. Ahead of him was a spring. He would go there after the fruit. He was weary.

All he could use was the food and he did use it. Whether or not it was a fruit, at the moment it was his food. And he was proud of calling it such name. What was there not be proud of?

As he finished eating, he let his heavy body slope down till it heaved its weight on the tamed trunk. He rested his whole. He needed to think.

He surrendered his whole to the wiles of the moment. He would think for some moments before ascertaining further. Would he be stuck forever there?

He wasn't sure. He needn't such thought at the moment. He needed something more suiting. He needed something he could relate to.

He needed what his instinct would embrace. He knuckled under lifting another particle his moaning memory could reach at. It was a hymn.

He started by humming it, before he let his haggard voice trail the tracks through the cloned contralto:

God ploughed one day with an earthquake,

And drove his furrows deep!

The huddling plains upstarted.

The hills were all a-leap!

But that is the mountains' secret,

Age-hidden in their breast;

"God's peace is everlasting,"

Are the dream-words of their rest.

He hath made them the haunt of beauty,

The home elect of his grace;

He spreadeth his mornings on them,

His sunsets light their face.

His thunders tread in music

Of footfalls echoing long,

And carry majestic greeting

Around the silent throng.

His winds bring messages to them,

Wild storm-news from the main;

They sing it down to the valleys

In the love-song of the rain.

Green tribes from far come trooping,

And over the uplands flock;

He weaveth the zones together

In robes for his risen rock.

They are nurseries for young rivers;

Nests for his flying cloud;

Homesteads for new-born races,

Masterful, free, and proud.

The people of tired cities

Come up to their shrines and pray;

God freshens again within them,

As he passes by all day.

And lo, I have caught their secret,

The beauty deeper than all.

This faith—that life's hard moments,

When the jarring sorrows befall,

Are but God ploughing his mountains;

And the mountains yet shall be

The source of his grace and freshness

And his peace everlasting to me.

(WILLIAM CHANNING GANNETT)

He quit singing. It seemed to him as though he heard something. A noise? A wail? From the sea? He wasn't sure what the sound was.

He wasn't sure whether or not he heard a sound. He needed to ascertain. He kept quiet for as long as possible whether or not he'll hear the voice again. Nothing came.

He assumed it was but a figment of the song he had sang. Since nothing came, he decided to move towards the spring. He was tired of singing. He didn't practise any religion.

He had simply heard couple of monks sang the hymn. Ah! He stood to edge towards the spring, then came the noise again.

He at once ran towards the sea, probably someone was there caught in the same claws as him.

He wished he could fly there. His heart was in his legs. All he could call his living was swept into his legs. Ah! He was already there.

But he was shocked at his sight! Leviathan? And Poseidon? He would pee on his cloth. He'd rather die than see the two.

What were Poseidon and his pet, Leviathan doing by the shore of the sea. He didn't know what to do. Words eluded him.

Was that an elevated aspect of the mystery he had been caught in. Like was that a phase two of the malady?

Firstly he found himself on a spot where he had no idea what he was doing there. He'd walked into the forest to ascertain if anyone else was there and had felt hungry at the search.

He had plucked some grapes and sat on a trunk to eat. After eating, he had decided to sing and scarcely was outta the song when he had heard the noise.

He didn't believe until he heard it again and had ran there. And getting there, he saw Poseidon and Leviathan?

Or were they some psychotic psychopaths being imposters? He was swinging by the thoughts when he who looked like Poseidon elated his glottis:

"Get on the serpent, got a lot to show you."

Poseidon wasn't done with the words when he felt a force pulled and threw him on the back of the serpent. Hell he would puke.

He wanted to jump off, but the serpent was already halfways into the track of the Sea. All he could wield was:

"I have my rightttttt....."