reality is held in balance by
just a few strings, connecting stars in the sky
mankind's quest for meaning
reveal three thousand realms
in a single moment
or maybe, infinity in a grain of sand
but we all prefer to keep our
third eye blind
wear faces in passing
"hello, how do you do?"
hiding subtle grins
at the fatalism of it all
that reality might be
but three steps away from the closest booth, dial the number
exitsimulation
— the shepherd :: year 001, post eclipse
the hunt
In the waking hours of the hour of the fowl, the forest floor of silent valley was quiet, in the third season of the hunt.
The forest was shrouded in mist; one could barely see past the serpentine vines of the thicket. A deep tone, dark and beckoning, spoke to the darkness of silent valley. There was no sun, and no light, save for the ocean of despair in the departure of life.
Beyond the bramble of towering pine fortresses stood the spiral. A tall, concrete ark-hollowed out and solid. No doors. No windows. No cracks. Just a massive slab with corridors stretching out like bridges into the mist above silent valley. No vines. No moss. No sign of life. It was out of place - alien in the thick jungle. Where did it come from? What was it for? Who built it?
The animals worshiped the spiral as an ancient force of nature. Legend said all that approached would wither to ash and aether. But once every two hundred and seventy-six days, a tiny slit of light would emerge, giving way to three beacons of light, shooting into the sky. They called this event the flash. It would only last for one week, but it was enough for the animals of silent valley to bask in it's light and rejoice. Sound and color would fill the void of silent valley's mist.
Flowers would bloom momentarily and the trees would sing to each other.
And then the slit would close.
The animals had all sorts of myths about the spiral. Some of the elders claimed that, the spiral was alive, dormant, waiting to hatch. Every once in a while, the spiders would hear whispers of footsteps emerging to and from the spiral, but no figure could be seen or heard.
Each year, silent valley would commemorate a countdown to the flash with the hunt. As tradition would permit, the tiger of silent valley would be bestowed with the honor of ringing the bell to commemorate the start of the flash.
the tiger sat at the top of his throne on the apex rock, gnawing at the bones of his youngest cub. A ruthless predator and self-proclaimed king of silent valley.
the tiger had six eyes, a gargantuan muscular physique, and a iridescent translucent skin adapted for hiding and hunting in plain sight. With a single blink, he could disappear into nothingness and hunt all animals in his vicinity and reappear exactly where he sat without giving his prey a moment to anticipate his next move. One could not look the tiger in the eye. If one did, it meant a certain, swift death. the tiger was not the harbinger of fear. the tiger was fear itself.
All the animals of silent valley bent the knee to the tiger's shadow, and in exchange for his mercy, offered him trinkets of service. Over the years, the tiger had built up an empire of sorts - a drug ring he called the candy factory. The factory sold the candy to neighboring warlords in exchange for photon.
photon was currency and the tiger was the debt collector.
++
the tiger looked at the faint shadow of the moon.
+full moon+ :: he thought :: four blinks 🐅
He sniffed the air for the scent of ashen blood dust.
musty :: he reminisced :: two blinks 🐅
Faint, lingering, but it was certainly there.
The weight of his ancestors knew what that meant.
++
"time for the hunt to begin" 🐅
++
the tiger rose up from his seat and growled, blinking one eye at a time. The archers dipped their arrows in fire from the trees and shot. the ape blew the horn of the hunt. The boar squealed and writhed in anticipation from the shackles of his iron cage. The battle drums of silent valley started to turn the forest floor into a ritual ground for sacrifice.
And so began the song of the hunt.
++
the hunt begins with an arrow in the sky
the boar knows he must run
for the game must be played
three wolves run through the thicket
weaving in and out of the woodwork
the tiger must deliver the final blow
so his cubs and maiden do his bidding
the beast, birds and monkeys
scout from above
the forest floor rumbles, for the trees
speak in networks
the boar trips on a vine, stumbles
and twists his head and breathes a final sigh
just circumstance, but now the wolves,
the tiger and his crew can triumph
the hunt is over, they won
the forest breathes, anticipating
rain, dust and sunny days
— the ape
diffusion
A hooded figure stood above the puddle of blood where the boar once fell.
he had pale skin with silver white tattoos running like circuitry around his entire body. he was neither dead nor alive - a bio-luminescent ghost trapped between time and space.
He looked around for signs of life. Nothing. the tiger left not a shred of sinew on the bones of the poor beast.
+scent+ he thought 🦌
the figure stooped down and took a sample of what remained, and muttered a hymn of requisition.
the figure wrote down an inscription on the flask and slipped it into his bag of vials.
Painting three dots on the forest floor, the figure drew a diffusion map.
the sand of the forest floor began to shift into a pattern of twisting roots. water seeped into the center of the hole at the base of the figure's feet. it rose to his knees, and as he looked up, two antlers grew from the base of his head. His silhouette twisted into a seven foot tall shadow of a humanoid elk hybrid.
+transformation+ 🦌
His eyes constricted into narrow slits, as his spirit became one with the silence of the forest.
+touch+ 🦌
With a hush, he disappeared into a slit in the fabric of the forest. Not a sound or soul saw or heard where he had been.
All that was left was the faint silver pool of the diffusion map.
+vision+ 🦌
Somewhere in the depths of the spiral, at that very same moment, a faint light emerged in the abyss.