» Visions from a Past World

Our palaver takes us down that sodden beach. Along the way, we find birds – or rather – avian fiends with downy arms; two sets each. There are twelve of those mutated critters; their blue/grey frames are half the size of a coconut, but their voices rang a haunting, baritone anthem that went deeper than what should be biologically possible. We pass beside their huddle, a shimmering mass of ultramarine bodies spinning in tight circles, with their mini cyclone gravitating rhythmically across the riptide current. Their voices are unexpectedly joined by another; this one is far off, but tis a prolonged uproar which demands my attention. Anxious plumes extend from their sweltered harbor. Unlike the mournful cries of those avian fowl – this one is fierce, mayhaps even tinged with grief and/or pain. Responsively, a potent mix of disruptive chemicals flies into my system. Concealed behind these damp lips, ivory molars grind anxiously in the back of my mouth; agitation continues to drum the pace of my heart upward. Golden optics are forced to narrow somberly beneath the weight of my brow. As the roar dies away; a new occurrence captures its audience. Those constant pillars of cycling water start to droop; leaning sideways until they fall from their ascended height with a crash/splash into their frothy originator! The sky...nar, the sea itself...is suddenly awash with an unexplainable, yellowish light. The illumination casts a faint twilight across the brackish water and somehow lessens the dull monotone around us. Unexpected desire rises from the ashes of imbued excitement...both of which flood inside these pulsing veins, feeding me renewed vigor. Noticeably brightening, my comment is easy, "the storm has eased."  Off to our left, a pale figure soars into view, -though far larger than the grieving birds, the silhouette is dwarfish; a child mayhaps?- obviously part of our species. Honeyed primaries flex, expressing their growing desire to be airborne. "Look there,” though this heart races and concern tints my expression...there is an unmistakable shade of beguilement which becomes outstandingly apparent the longer we stand and gawk, "a child?" That metallic choker throbs warmly, as if sensing my restless...failing logic. The brash suggestion which follows is born from that bewitching aura, “come with me?” there is a hint of desperation spoken in the undertone of said question, but for the moment...I don't recognize it. OC: Zahra is with him :)

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