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Monday, January 23, 2006

In Dreams come responsibility

TELLIN’ STORIES by Elias Infinity
PRECURSOR TO A DREAM
All products come from some spark followed by a conflagration of other experiences, moments, and dreams that join together in synchronistic fury to create a structure. This is how it works for me. Over the summer I would spend a couple hours a week at the local Starbucks just writing and reading. While living in the big Northern cities I avoided Starbucks like the corporate plague. While in Grad school in Savannah I would only frequent the quaint “Coffee Houses” with no fear of Brand Name. But dammit they make great coffee and they are just exploding here so a lot of people-watching is available. And I get a lot done so don’t judge me. Anyway I call the journal entries I write on these days The Starbucks Papers and have gotten inspiration for paintings, illustrations and stories from it. This is one entry.
WAR! 9.16.05
The Sorcerer stood at the doorway faced with an ocean of black expanse. A void. An Abyss. The Sorcerer stood at this place a long time, contemplating. A magician never exposes his tricks until after they prove successful. He knew this next death was a battle of Finality. At this point he stopped his old thought and conjured a new one to explore. His eyes closed, his lips spread in a quiet smile and he nodded slightly. The Sorcerer stepped back. His left hand, open palm forward, glowed while emitting a soft hum. His right hand gripped the worn Katana, its tip pointed to the ground in easy readiness. He opened his eyes, now prepared to face the Abyss.
The Abyss chuckled. The doorway bubbled stretching outward. First expanding its two dimensional surface before solidifying its mass into a human form. Black took line and contour, etching out, as it receded, the face of the shadow. The Darrke finally settled in the womb of the Abyss. In each black hand he gripped a black 9mm Automatic. Of course both were pointing to the ground. Jung passed through both their minds as the strangely flat and proper, Midwest inflected voice issued from Abyss.
“I know you’ll eventually get this on an unconscious level so let’s forgo the chitchat.”
The wide grin that spread across their faces spoke of a deep kinship neither could deny. And then everything exploded
The blood drawn from the consuming sadness of a woman surged through the Black One. Abyss took the offensive charging the Sorcerer, guns blazing. Passion grew from memories of sobbing confidants seeking solace from a well deeper than the Existential rift. His black raiment whipped and flowed attesting to the graceful determination of his dance, his engaging of the dance.
The Sorcerer first observed. With a near silent exhalation of nervous expectation he engaged the furious actions of the Black One. Deep blue sky twisted and jerked in his expertly tailored suit as he stepped to the side deflecting the hail of bullets with a wave of his radiant hand. See the Turtle was no slouch either. He knew magic was on his side but he needed time to study what he faced. So the Sorcerer hardened his shell with a phrase and looked for the next attack.

Next Week: finding an ending and turning the story into pictures.

Elias Infinity

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