The Book of Sawaleh

The empty room is dark and musty. From all appearances, it has not been entered into in many years. The air is still, the floor laden with many memories and much potential. Suddenly, the lone door swings open, creaking on it’s rusty hinges. Dariel has arrived….

“This is a strange place, this room. Stranger than most rooms I have been in. No matter, I am here to meet with the rest of the children of Hedon, my fellow tellers of tales. While I wait for them, I will tell you what I am. I am everything and I am nothing. I am a cosmic joke. As life is the opposite of death, so am I the antithesis of everything good. No, I am not lucifer – that fucking pussy. I was not created, I just am. A rip in the fabric of reality. And as to why I am here – my purpose is purposelessness. I possess, plunder, plague and pillage at will and as the fancy takes me, I tell tales. Which is the only reason I congregate with this lot. I revel in the glory of a good story. I would tell you more but it seems the others are arriving. She is here. Maqam. Damn those hips, I’m going to plunder the pleasure of those thighs one of these days”…

“I won’t indulge this thing staring at me. Probably won’t be worth the fuck.

Where are my manners? Excuse my french! I get like this when I’m testy and irritated. I have been summoned here to present myself to you all. Called by my fellow hedons to speak. And so I shall.

I am the tune you dance to at the nightclubs. I am the voice you hear over the radio. I am the sound of the trumpet at the parade. I am the notes, connotations, clefs and melodies you hear.

I am a lover of music. I hear the lyrics and turn them into tales. I would go on and on but I hear someone else coming. He’s handsome and I get the air of a brooding and serious nature. Let him speak.”

“Finally, the sun sets, and with it, my slumber. With the advent of twilight, the images of the transition of my metamorphosis are displayed behind my eyelids. I am the one who appreciates art, for life and death are art. Flawless, grosteque, divine. I am the one who cherishes love like no other, as to love is to die. I have died, but yet, still walks the earth. Darkness falls, the moon is bright, and I open my eyes. I will drink my fill of red wine and toast my immortality to the cosmos. I will live forever. I am The Count.

Within this sub-rosa world, where supernaturals exist is another transcendent being, neither man nor spirit, but both. I give you Eze Mmuo”

“King without a throne. I reside in the depths of your mind, that dark place where all your fears reside. I am the sum of stories told, legends in the making and fables to come. Cut from the same cloth as the ones in this room but of a different pattern. We’re all the same yet different.

I find a seat, an easy chair in the dark corner of the room. I feel at home here, amongst my family. The only ones who understand me. Re-incarnated too many times to count, but no body has been able to fully contain my essence. Older than the Odinani, king of the spirits, king of evil, king of death. The last title being one I share with my brother, fully mortal yet feared by even the gods. He is never far from me.

The room gets cold as he walks in, the screams of those departed echo in the minds of those seated here, announcing his entrance. Osiris…”

“The screams of the faded ones turn into screeches as I step on the dais. Building into a crescendo as if heralding the entrance of their lord. And that I am.
Some call me an assassin. Asinine cretins is what they are. I do understand though, that simple minds cannot possibly comprehend through logic who I am. No, only through the primal fear instinctive to all creatures can you begin to fathom who I am.
Birthed in blood and carnage, I was sired by hate and depravity. Silent. Dreadful. The embodiment of all things feared and loathed. The chill you feel spreading through your flesh, penetrating to the marrow within your bones tell you I am real.

Like the one after whom I am named, I am that which destroyed me. I am death. I am Osiris.”

“Shalom Shalom. Blessed are those who come under my voice this day for they shall experience boundless wisdom. Several years have I graced the surface of this world and much knowledge have I acquired from far and near corners. I have dined with the damned, made love to the cursed and fought war with the oppressed. Many years have passed and still I remain. Son became student; father became master and now the world calls me The Rabbi. Destiny married faith to purpose the day I met The Legion. Together, we have forged an inextricable brotherhood. I, my brothers and sisters are leading a battle by putting modern ink to parchment and teaching the pusillanimous mortals of this world from our amaranthine wealth of knowledge. I only hope there is yet some time for our words to reach you before the end of days. Hope; I share this emotion for I was also once hoped for but I can not say the same about he who comes after me. Monkii”

“The fear. The excitement. The sex. The blasphemy. The me. The him. The her. The we. I remember the day they found me, walking away from Princess’ house at three in the morning with tears washing my face. I remember the face of darkness that opened the door and welcomed me. One face, one man or woman – the androgynous enigma that I am now because I am joined. He kissed me with the lure of a woman and took me home and fucked me. Next time he fucked, I fucked through him as we all did, all we that are her and him. Spread your legs nigga, bitch, be fucked up the fucking arse and be us. She comes again for a taste of purple poison, she’s kissing me. I’m kissing myself, we’re touching us. Fuck! She’s just like me, sometimes. Or not. I give a fuck for Ibiere”

” Ibiere, but I’d rather you called me IB. No otherworldly, dark, mysterious name for me. You see, I am mortal. Like you. But unlike you, I’m good enough to dwell with the legion.

I need to stop fooling myself.

Dariel, Maqam, The Count, Eze Mmuo, Osiris, Rabbi, Monkii; Mayhem; Little Miss Molly; The Widow; my friends.

…the antithesis of everything good…
…king of the spirits…
…son, student, father, master, rabbi…
How can they be my friends?

Daughter of hedon, Hankerina Moody, I take what I want, when I want it and how I want it.

I don’t belong with them.

These immortals need me to operate.

Need me? Look at them, they’re all gifted. Me? I’ve got nothing. Nothing.

Without me, they are just spirits and demons without expression. It is I who makes them real. I give them shape and form and character. I give their soulless eyes colours of green, yellow and red. You see, I am you. Your mind. You.

I do not even have definition outside them.

I love these people.

Do they love me back though? Can they even?

And I am fiercely loyal to them.

Traitor!

They care.

No they don’t. Nobody does. Nobodii…”

“Me random. Can’t be fathomed. I seem incapable of passion, yet, I am action. Handsome is the eye that beholds this phantom. Doomed to greatness. Oxymoron. Constantly hands upped, yet hands on. Faceless. Mask on. This is my fashion. I am no one. No woman’s son. Not the first one, not the last one. Passed on her mansions to the beholder of the grandsons she would never meet. Amazonian feat. Draconian. Is this woman’s heat.

Through the veil, I breathe. See through eyes sheathed. Her insight to me bequeathed. Timid spirit quashed beneath the feet of the bereaved. Defeating defeat. I rise. Phoenix. Now. Behold the one who follows 46”

47

“I entered this world as ‘one’ to start a journey of ‘two’ extremes: a birth and death date, a void between..a loner on a mission of discovery, a student of ‘three’ things: women, figures and mystery. My love ‘four’ the created antipode of man cannot be explained in ‘fives’ and ‘sixes’ as things that require perfection usually take ‘several,’ carefully, calcul’eight’ed steps. Am I about to explain? Like the Germans say, ‘Nein.’

Very few things fascinate me or make me wonder. One of such is what defines me…and you; Numbers. Ever wondered how many make up this gathering? Yes, you have but it remains a mystery still. Numbers have become the bane of my existence, matter of fact OUR existence. You are all probably too fickle to see that life is just about numbers: dates , time, money, locations, IP addresses, accounts… Figured it out yet?

Why am I here and who the fuck am I? Would it help if I referred to myself as “the One?” No. Too many wannabes done already desecrated that. Well, I am he that continuously evolves, aging as days pass by +1, living in between numbers separated by slashes or dots. To some, I’m a first, an ex or a next. Still just a number…to you, I can’t be bothered to explain. Do the math… and enjoy Mayhem as you attempt”

“I am he. I am me. They say I’m a maniac, I say & know I am sane. Life is real, situations differ, Life is beautiful, people contort that. I stay focused, I stay challenged, I have dreams, I have hopes. The abyss looms, I need wings to fly. I like to see myself as a gift to the world but people like to call me ‘Mayhem’. Again I am him, he is me. I am misunderstood but I am loved. I do not know what the world thinks of me but I am certain the world thinks of me.
What do you think of The Widow? I’ll let her tell you…”

“I lay on the floor and stare at them all, waiting for the purpose of this summon to be revealed.  Hedons, the lot of them. My brethren. a widow’s only companion.

I do wonder sometimes. Who am I! Who am I not? Surely you must too, don’t you? I’m everywhere and yet I’m nowhere. I have everything, but alas I have nothing at all. Lost it all to gain it all. A pretty fine mess, if you ask me. Fret not. I come bearing gifts. Riches and pleasure and joy and life. Choose carefully what you desire. Quite honestly, it matters not. Everyone ends up paying the same price anyway. Little Miss Molly for instance…”

“You know me; you’ve known me since you were two…or is it three? Your first doll. I remember it clearly. You had a great fall once; hence you broke your first toy. You cried and whined till your mother brought you to see us; here at the mall. You stood, eying us all, teary eyed…and then you sighed. There was no one…

…till you saw me. Pretty, with a head full of flaxen locks and lace trimlets tucked to my cuffs. Ruby lips and cheeks; a beautiful dress down to my feet. Minutes later, we sat down to tea. Then you lay me down on the floor, with eyes full of curiosity. You put your thumb in your mouth, and began to suck. First you took off my shoes and giggled at their size. Then you let my hair down; took off my dress. Little trickles of spittle dropped from your lips, making me wet. The look that you had when you saw I came with pretty knickers…I stared on with glassy eyes as you peeked underneath. You are still peeking”

Peeking…

The room is full now. Of imagination, personality and presence. Much presence. The door swings shut. Illumination is introduced and a melding begins. As it has many times before. As it will many times again.

“We are Legion”

Thanks to @Cumical, @Sirkastiq, @D3ola, @0Toxic, @MallamSawyerr, @EdGothBoy, @Weird_oo, @ekwem, @Aeda_, @miafarradaily, @The_Daywalker, @JibolaL, @thetoolsman. For the contributions.