I closed my eyes for five hot seconds and a Mysterious Orator appears to me with too much pomp and damnable circumstance. His appearance is terrifying and horrible. His voice contains the screams of the abused, and the wails of the dying. He is crowned with dripping madness and his robes are sewn with still twitching nerves.
He knows I write, and that I will write publicly when asked to do so. (By ‘asked’, he means when I’m ‘bidden’. And by ‘bidden’, we both know he means when I get a chance to throw rocks at windows. Which I generally do when he shows up like this.) He commands me to record his words and make them public. Which I did do, on Tumblr. But this has teased at me for the past four days, and I realize now where I have erred. His words should be posted here as well.
Allow me to complete the task:
“You have set a feast and called all to attend, but all you serve is bitterness and acrimony. You have set a feast, and claim it in my name, but all you serve is talk and useless pageantry. You wish a feast? Then feast. Eat the flesh of those that sit on your left and drink the blood of those that sit on your right. Drink deep and never be sated. Eat until the bones lodge in your teeth and ever be hungry. More! More! You claim to be of my train, then be so! Until I am sated.
I am never sated.
I died before my first taste of milk. You shall be my substitute.
Eat.
Drink.
Die.
Again.”
After dutifully recording his words and his inflection in a manner which I am confident the reader will be able to reconstruct his pausing and emphasis at first glance, we converse:
MO: “And that’s what I want you to write.”
Me: “Say it’s from you?”
MO: “No!”
Me: “Why?”
MO: “Mine will know me at once. This is not for them. The vain will never accept it. This is for them.”
Me: ~thinking out loud and forgetting just how dangerous is the man in front of me~ “No. This is for the vain that recognize their vanity and see the fate waiting for them.”
MO: ~with humor~ “You have it half right. Maybe mine will explain it to you.”
When I first posted the conversation on Tumblr, I did so without indicating who spoke which line. As is my custom when there are only two conversants. Poet M. N. Ashley (worth the reading, go read Soul Bites) noted:
To which I replied:
Not surprising considering who I was talking to and the form he was taking at the time. Masks and Mirrors make for blurring of sane boundaries. (And that’s the only clue the readers get.)
Afterward, I did get confirmation from certain others that the Mysterious Orator was who I thought he was, and that his words were hitting home for some. However, I was concerned because those I heard from did not deserve the vitriol I felt in the message. But, hey, I’m just the messenger. I’m not responsible for the tone of the message, just the fall out when delivered.
So when I found myself before the Mysterious Orator yet once more, I tried to take advantage of the visitation and ask a question, or two…
I closed my eyes for five hot seconds and found myself standing before the Mysterious Orator from yesterday.
Me: “Hey. May I ask you a question after asking this one?”
MO: “Oh-ho! You’re prepared! Yes, dear. Ask your second question and word it very carefully.”
Me: ~says many words and attempts to speak clearly and rationally but everything she says dissolves into unintelligible gibbering~ “… I can’t.”
MO: “Guess you weren’t prepared after all. Would you like an answer anyway?”
Me: “How would I be able to understand it without context?”
MO: ~smiles warmly and terrifies Keri utterly~ “Love is madness.” ~kisses Keri gently on the forehead and with loving tenderness~ ~leaves bloody streaks on her clothes when ke leaves her~
I shudder from the sticky sweetness and find myself back in my room.
I got an answer that isn’t for me. Maybe it’s for you. I wonder if any one of his could shed light.