Wednesday, May 29, 2013
I thought of what to do next. For example, I considered that he might want to try the fire trick and I would make fire come out of his ass. But he was out of luck. I had been curious, but now I was bored. I was also annoyed to find that Martyn was one of those bullies—the kind I despised. If you remember well, I was a victim of such a bully, but in my time, these mean-spirited boys could literally get away with murder if their target was a poor child. I was the child of a whore. Nobody in my wretched village would ever have intervened on my behalf, so I was forced to endure terrible beatings.
These memories came back in a frightening crash as Martyn glared at Tete de Lun and threatened him. Martyn shook him as if he were a bag of bones then he said, “Make him atone for his sins against me, for I am the great Sorcerer Gaumata!”
My rage was like a dark storm cloud. How dare he use my name! Yes, I would make him atone for his sins against me. Martyn grinned like an empty skull, but only for a moment. He reached and pulled his own hair again and again until there was a bald spot like the sort a much older man would have. Then he began to tear at his clothing, feeling as if fire ants were crawling over him, their leader periodically sending out the order to bite. When they bit in unison, the formic acid felt like a torch upon his skin and he slapped himself again and again as more of his flesh was exposed to the gaping audience. When he was well naked, he began to caper about hysterically screaming and waving his arms over his head. He punched at his cheeks and jumping from the stage, he began to gnaw on the shiny bar until his teeth began to fall out.
I could no longer bear the pain, having to share it with him as I was in his body. I left him and hovered over his body, unseen before rushing back to my own. I felt light now, as I always do when I have done something evil. Somehow, although I am not drawn to morality at all, I thought I had taught Martyn some valuable lessons. One was that you should never try to dabble in evil when you have no idea of what you may encounter. The second was that being a bully is bad. The third and most important was to never cross the Sorcerer Gaumata.
Monday, May 27, 2013
His train of thought was broken by a slight guffaw. It came from a slight young man, who wore thick glasses and appeared to be alone. Martin glared at him and said, “You dare to laugh? You shouldn’t even be here. You are a mere human among us immortals.”
I saw what he hid in his mind. The young man who laughed had been the object of Martyn’s ridicule for as long as they had been in school together. Martyn hated him because he was awkward and perhaps plain looking. Before his fascination with the occult, Martyn had been what he called a “jock.” He ran with a crowd of likeminded rascals who preyed upon boys like the one he called “Tete de Lun,” because of his severe acne. Those boys ridiculed Tete de Lun because of his interest in esoteric lore. Somehow Martyn became likewise obsessed, but he never showed this side of himself to his jock friends, and he still made fun of Tete de Lun.
Now he was furious that the object of his ridicule was laughing at him and his secret hobby. Now in college, Martyn still maintained the facade of being a jock, even joining a fraternity, while Tete de Lun, also attending the large college was still an outcaste. If you know me, my dear readers, you know that as a child, I was subjected to torture by bullies like Martyn. This turn of events enlivened me.
Now Martyn called out in a loud voice, “Come, oh Tete de Lun. Come and join me in a duel. Since you have dared to laugh, we will see who is the better sorcerer.”
The boy stammered something then turned to leave. Martyn pointed, “Make him come up here. He has laughed. Now see my power!”
Some of the men, who were dressed as monsters of some sort or another, pushed Tete de Lun forward. He ascended the stage with knocking knees, for he was still quite afraid of Martyn.
“Now kind audience,” Martyn intoned, “we shall begin with the simplest of sorcery. Here, you,” he pointed to a woman wearing vampire teeth. Please give me your empty glass.” She passed up a clear glass beer mug stained around the lips with her tawdry red lipstick. He handed the glass to Tete de Lun, who took it with trembling hands. His face had gone pale.
“Now make water! Make water from nothing!” he ordered.
Tete do Lun giggled nervously. “I could in the lab. I am a chemistry major…” Everyone in the room began to laugh, and a few tossed beer and nuts at him.
“As expected,” Martyn said, taking the glass into his own hands. “Now see the wonder of my power!” Some people laughed, but all watched. “Make water!” he called out.
I was ready. I forced the contents of his bladder out and a puddle began to form around his feet. Martyn looked down at the mess, unable to believe what had happened. This drew the crowd’s attention, and they roared with laughter.
At this, the proprietor, furious at this indignity, ran to the stage. “Get down from there, you ass!”
Martyn almost shrieked. “No, wait! I will show you! Give me a chance!”
The man stepped back only because the audience was screaming for more.
Inside of Martyn’s mind, I saw what he was thinking. He realized that he had used an expression he thought I had misunderstood. He would be more careful. As Tete de Lun tried to run off the stage, Martyn held him by the elbow and shook him. Under his breath he muttered, “Stay put, insect. I’m going to destroy you for what you did.”
Sunday, May 26, 2013
It was dark when they arrived by rolling carriage to the place they called a nightclub. I heard much disturbing noise that passed for music, and it got louder as they approached. A fat man wearing garish black makeup around his eyes seemed to be screening the prospective patrons before they passed on to leave money for entrance. The man wore no shirt, but he decorated his chest and arms with a series of black leather straps, some of which must have been dog collars with spikes.
Martyn looked at him with obvious distain. I suppose he felt quite proud to be about to make his debut as a master sorcerer. He also seemed proud of his garb, which consisted of a ridiculous long black hooded cape over a black suit and white shirt. His female friend dressed in what she thought passed for a witch’s outfit. She wore a long black dress with a long train lined in purple satin. She also wore a black cape, but the back of it was embroidered with a large, upside down, five pointed star. She was telling people to call her Sabrina.
After a long time, during which my host was feeling increasingly nervous, he approached a spindly man sporting vampire teeth, who seemed to be in charge. Martyn said, “You agreed to give me time if I could do what I said I could.”
The man drew back thin, cracked lips over his yellowed teeth in a grimace that passed as a smile. “If you are going to do some stupid magic tricks, I’ll have the bouncer kick your ass in front of everybody. Got it? Anyway, I want to see proof first. This is a serious place. If I get some ass-clown making me look stupid, we’ll lose our reputation.”
Martyn took in a deep breath and mumbled, “I call upon the powers of the Sorcerer Gaumata. Make fire come from my mouth!”
He blew out and I obliged him by making a small blue flame pass from his lips. The master of the establishment was impressed. “Okay, but make this good,” he said. He rang a loud Tibetan type gong until everyone fell silent. He called for the audience to look at the stage, where Martyn and his witch friend had already ascended.
“We at the club Sorceria are proud to present Martyn, the master sorcerer and Sabrina, an eighth level witch.” He made a ridiculous bow and backed away. All eyes were on Martyn, but I heard some giggling too. It seemed that he had some detractors.
“After much tribulation, after much deprivation and suffering, I, Martyn, have become a master sorcerer. I have within me the knowledge of the ages—I know what only the ancients knew…”
Friday, May 24, 2013
As a sorcerer, I get many requests to take on students. The last student I had, met with an unfortunate end. You see, he was an annoying person who believed that simply by being tenacious he could force me to accept him. First he came forward with a fruit basket for me. I turned it into a basket of rotting limbs. He acted as if he were delighted, but I sent him away. Next he came offering me a young woman. I was horrified and immediately disappeared. This only encouraged the fool. Finally, he came with an offer. He said that I could possess his body and use it for whatever purpose I desired, but then I should take him as a disciple. I agreed just to rid myself of the man.
First I will tell you a little about this would-be-disciple. His name was Martyn. Of course, this spelling is ridiculous, but he was a young man, whose parents thought an aberrant spelling of a name would make their little bundle of piss and shit special. He certainly thought he was very special. He had arrogance written all over his face. He was especially in love with his own features. His lips—oh, how he loved those tiny lips with their cupid’s bow and pink color a woman might envy. His nose was well shaped. His eyes were comely enough, except for the fact that being a blond, his eyelashes were almost white, making him appear to be a cow. All in all, he thought that he was the picture of handsome masculinity. I thought not, for you see, the arrogant are ugly. It cannot be hidden under good looks.
I decided to get rid of Martyn by taking up his offer, so I entered his mind. As soon as I did, I realized, to my fury, that he had planned this all along. He wanted to possess me! Not my body. He wanted to possess my sorcerer’s mind. He was part of a young people’s group that thought themselves to be vampires, werewolves, sorcerers, witches, and the like. He believed that he could trap me there, in his mind. One of his female friends, a self-professed witch, had provided him with a spell that was supposed to trap me, making my powers accessible to him. I chuckled low and soft, but decided to go along for the ride, making him think that I was captured.
He apologized to me as he started for his home, where his witch friend was waiting. She ordered me to make a glass levitate. I did it from within him, and they were delighted. Now they dressed in outlandish garb to attend a nightclub where others such as themselves congregated. There he was to stun his audience with “his” newly acquired talents. He wanted them to acknowledge him as a master sorcerer. Tomorrow I will tell you how it went for him, but you may already guess that it did not go as intended.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Let me tell you a little about my plan. I wanted to kill Cyrus, but I needed to enjoy it. It was revenge. Do you remember? He and Rustem had my ears chopped off, which was painful and most of all disfiguring. Now I thought that I must humiliate the so-called great king. The road to that great humiliation was to expose his greatest fear. Ah, yes! I can know a person’s greatest fear, and I exploit that. My dear reader, think of it. What do you fear the most? Do you fear suffocation? Do you fear spiders or cockroaches? Do you fear insanity? Do you fear being exposed for what you really are? Oh yes, I can find that fear in your heart and use it against you. But for now, let me tell you my plans for Cyrus the Great.
I have explained that he had a fear of being exposed as a normal human. Indeed, being the King of Kings, he had the reputation of being god-like. A Greek visitor once commented that Cyrus the Great was indeed the greatest monarch, for he seemed to have no bodily needs. He never had to void waste. This became his fear. Cyrus feared that someone might find out that he was a normal person who shat like we all do.
Cyrus had a solitary room people called the “Quiet Room.”
This room was designed by a skilled craftsman who hid in it a throne that could be converted into a commode when needed. It was a lovely little private house that opened in places to the sky, so that a variety of plants could grow in there too. The king tended to these himself, for no one, not the queens, nor the princes, what to speak of common gardeners, were allowed entrance. Once the building was complete, Cyrus had the craftsman killed, so that his secret would be safe.
I also wanted him to commit a serious political blunder that would stain his good name in the future. There is nothing more evil than to tarnish a man’s reputation, is there? Ha! My plan was simple. I will explain it tomorrow, for now I am busy. I am not a lazy man. I like to help my host. I caught two monstrous snakes yesterday. Brimming with venom and evil, these snakes had been eating birds and mammals that humans fancy as pets. I paralyzed them with a spell then I got distracted watching two birds fight. I forgot about them, but when I returned the next morning, rats had gotten their revenge by eating them alive. Most amusing.
Monday, May 20, 2013
By the time I had been in the mind of the King of Kings, Cyrus the great, for seven years, I was bored and ready for a change. The brat Mihr had grown to be a young man, but Rustem visited him and in a way, like I did, he possessed the boy. He did this so that he could still advise the king. I found myself paralyzed at times like those, but I quickly learned that he could only speak though Mihr.
I began to impersonate Rustem, so that I would speak through the king’s mouth, but to him, he heard his dear advisor. One day Mihr caught me advising in this manner. What he heard me saying was this:
“Your Lordship must protect the eastern regions of your vast kingdom. We have discovered that the tribe that calls themselves the Massagetae has decided not only to challenge your over- lordship, but they are also instigating rebellion throughout the lesser kingdoms. As I have interpreted your dream, you see that the truth of my words is evident. In addition, you have heard yourself that the evil that will come to you will start in the east. Like the god Mithra, you must sweep in from the east and devastate any state that dares oppose you. In addition, the queen that rules that kingdom would make a fine supplement to your maidservants, if you catch my drift...”
I was, of course, encouraging him to attack one of his satrapies. It was a powerful one, and I hoped that he would end up dead in the scuffle. Mihr flew through the door and began to shake his sacred Kusti rope screaming, “Be gone, demon!” He surely felt my presence.
Cyrus began to explain the plan to attack the Massagetae to Mihr, but Rustem came to the surface and began to tell him that this was all wrong. The king stared at Mihr as if he were mad, for remember, he believed that Rustem, not I, had been advising him.
He screamed, “What do you tell me? Have you gone mad? Perhaps you are ill, Rustem? Never mind, prepare, for we are going to war. I am convinced that this rebellion must be quelled and I will see to it myself. Do you not remember that the Emperor Astyages, my grandfather, allowed a certain rebellion to get out of hand? Look what happened to him! Ha! The land of the Massagetae will swarm with the royal army and they will be the example I will set for people who oppose me, as you so elegantly stated before that crazy outburst.” Cyrus sat back on his throne gathering his strength. He blinked, and now he saw Mihr, not Rustem.
“Mihr, I am getting old now. My two strong sons, Cambyses II and Bardiya, are eager for me to die so they can rule. If I have to die, it will be in battle, not being tended by the women as I lie in bed. No, I will continue in my glory until the gods see fit to take me. Ah...perhaps the gods don’t even care. They’re probably too busy getting drunk,” he said with a dry chuckle.
“Well, what do you think of this?” he asked. “I will first propose marriage to the Queen Apuyani of the Massagetae. If she accepts the proposal, then there will be no need to waste the time and men that it will take to secure her kingdom. I can simply annex it.”
Mihr nodded dumbly.
“See to it that a messenger is sent immediately with the message and gifts. We should, nevertheless prepare for war. I do not believe that my proposal will be accepted.”
So my plans to kill Cyrus the Great were put into place.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
The biggest of my problems was that Rustem refused to stay dead. I do not mean like your wretchedly ignorant idea of zombies or walking dead people. I cannot believe that even having survived this long entertainment has not improved. I told you that I am staying at the domicile of a person by the name of Forrest. I stay here only on his insistence, for I need no person. If I needed what this simpleton farmer had to offer, I would possess his body. In any case, he introduced me to the flattened box he calls a TV. By some sort of witchcraft it projects the forms of small humans. We sat upon a sort of throne called a couch, and with a wand-like apparatus, he makes the forms appear. His latest interest is a play called Walking Dead People. He appears to be entertained by it, and drinks a bitter ale in a strange metal cup. I tried it, and felt insulted that he did not heat it to the correct temperature. Rather, he served it cold. I threatened to kill him for this insult, and he poured the concoction into a glass flask and placed it into a box that produced a humming noise accompanied by light. I forced him to drink some before I would sample it, for I feared he had tried to poison me.
As for the flattened forms of the Walking Dead People, it gave me an idea. However, I would not personally do this thing. I wondered if a sorcerer tried to inhabit a body, but found it to be dead. If he could not escape, this walking dead person would happen. If one could force the spirit out of a living body and make it go into a dead body, then one would not have to share the body. This has always been a problem for me, so I am thinking about how this might be best accomplished.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
If only the women the king kept would all die!
There were times when I dearly wanted to return to my own body. Especially when the king engaged in sex with his many wives. Although I shut my eyes against the awful sights and I tried to plug my ears against the sounds of rutting, it was of no use. Their sweating bodies would slap and squelch together. There were horrendous sucking noises and deep grunts like those made by pigs. And the desperate need to scratch that evil itch between their legs was more than I could stomach! I would lose control of my body. I hated that the most. My pelvis would begin to thrust on its own, as if possessed by a gremlin. The sight of my own reddened, swollen cock made me violently ill, yet I could not stop myself. Sometimes I beat myself about the groin in anguish, but it was as if I had no control over what should be mine. For a sorcerer possessed of so much power, it shamed me to no end that I had to undergo such suffering! But often I was able to assert myself. At these times, Cyrus would be quite cruel, throwing the woman off his bed and glaring at her in hatred. His desire and my repulsion were thus intermittently present, causing his wives to fear him greatly. They never came to his bed willingly anymore. Instead, they dreaded it. The King of Kings knew this and it made him livid with rage. Instead of discouraging him, it made him go about his task with vicious zeal, much to my horror. Time passed slowly as I waited, but I knew that soon I would kill my host and inhabit the body of his robust son, Prince Cambyses.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Rustem’s brat entered the king’s private quarters a few minutes later. Cyrus dismissed his retainers. I read in his mind that he felt quite safe alone. He kept two swords at the ready, and he was the best of warriors. That part I admired. Today you never see a world leader head up his troops as the kings of old did. They are cowards of the worst sort.
I looked through the king’s eyes, but I found myself unable to control him properly, especially when the boy entered the room. There was something different about him, yet it was familiar. Cyrus related his dream and suddenly I was hit by an angry presence in the boy, whose head lolled to the side now. My loins clenched in fear as I felt Rustem’s spirit enter the boy’s body and begin to speak.
How could this be? I had killed the big lout! Like a vengeful ghost, he now haunted me. I was so stunned that I could only crouch in a corner of the king’s mind as he gave his interpretation. He disappeared while the king was still speaking.
“So you say that the interpretation of the magi was spurious then? I thought so, but your interpretation, although it makes sense, is quite distressing. My two sons Cambyses and Bardiya—I have really failed to watch them as closely as I should have. They are quite grown now and like the tree, they will not bend, rather they will splinter. As for my fate, it is certain that nobody, even the greatest monarchs are freed from death. I tell you, Rustem, I have been able to take refuge in your advice that we can only act for the sake of Order in this life. O...my friend...do not leave yet...I...need...”
The boy shook his head, and I knew he was back. Mihr looked at the emperor and cringed in his chair. Cyrus smiled at him to reassure him.
“Do not fear, Mihr,” he said and heaved a weary, but satisfied sigh. “I appoint you as my assistant. From now on, we shall breakfast together.”
Mihr blinked. His jaw had dropped open, giving him the look of a startled half-wit. “Assistant?” he repeated dumbly.
“Yes, yes, I don’t know what I was thinking putting you in the Mage Hall. Your place is here. You are the son of my most trusted friend. Have the servants move your things into the Royal Suite at once. You shall be appointed the Royal Advisor.”
Thus began my travails. For the next seven years I was trapped in the body of Cyrus the Great. I almost lost my own body, because the man was resistant indeed, especially now, with Rustem’s help. Luckily, I was able to take control for long enough to order a trusted man to take care of my body, which was in a near-dead state. The body was losing weight, but slowly, because it was in suspended animation. The man would wash the body and pack it back into the tree trunk, protecting it with soft mosses after washing it and tending to its sores. He even found a solution to the insect and rodent infestations by using fragrant, repellent herbs. Still I dreaded ever having to return to that body. It had aged and grown saggy. My beautiful face was marred by the loss of my delicate ears. I burned with the need for revenge, but I also liked my new royal life of ease and plenty.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Monushir shifted positions. To me it looked as if he had bad indigestion. He finally spoke.
“Your Highness has dreamed a dream that may have no special meaning. As you can see, it is a variation of the dream of the hated Median Emperor Astyages, your grandfather. It is different in some respects, however. You have seen a tree, rather than a flood of water. A tree symbolizes stability. That two of the main branches have rotted may mean that you may be neglecting two important aspects that keep your kingdom strong. One is the magi. We feel that following the advice of the magi and having respect for the magi is essential, if one is to maintain unity and strength. The second most important branch represents the Fire Temples in which we operate. Without the upkeep and building of these structures, your kingdom may well rot. I have spoken the words that have been inspired in me by the great Lord Ahura Mazda, as he sees fit to speak through me.”
The head-mage seemed very pleased with himself and after swallowing back a belch, he fell into a meaningful silence.
I rubbed my hands together when I realized that Cyrus the Great needed to visit the garden Quiet Room. He was tired, yet too anxious to return to sleep. He glanced at the self- righteous, fat man with the grapefruit-sized head and snorted. “Bring me Rustem!”
“We have already informed the Emperor that Rustem the Sorcerer-Mage is dead!” Rusaspa blurted out in nasal, rapid-fire speech.
Cyrus the Great eyed him with a look that made the man wince. “Bring me his son!”
This pronouncement made my jubilation whither. I knew that after Rustem’s death, the magi had collected his son and brought him back to the palace. I worried about the son. Had he inherited his father’s gifts? The girl, his sister, was missing, so I did not worry about her. I wish I had been able to control Cyrus before he blurted out his desire to see the accursed brat! I could see that my technique still needed adjustments.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
“Eventually, the child Cyrus was brought to the Royal Court of the Median Emperor Astyages. He was put under the expert tutelage of the same Harpagus, for by this time, Astyages had entirely forgotten the incident. As time passed, Harpagus secretly instilled hatred and rebellion into the young prince’s mind. When he was grown up, Cyrus was sent back to Persia to rule the subordinate throne of Persia under the Medes.
“One day, Cyrus gathered all of his Persian court, as well as the nobles in the kingdom. He gave each an ax and sent them to chop wood all day. He did not allow them to stop for food or water. The next day he invited them for a great hunt. Afterwards they feasted all evening. Cyrus asked them to vote. Which day was more enjoyable? They all chose the hunting and feasting. King Cyrus explained in his charismatic way, that as servants to the Medes, they had no real control over their lives. They were, in fact, slaves. After his fiery speech, he invited the proud lords to join in a rebellion against the powerful Median overlords, headed by his grandfather, Emperor Astyages.
“When Astyages learned of the rebellion, the dream came back to haunt him. He was terrified, so he called his most able army officer, Harpagus, to lead the Median army to quell the rebellion, a thing they should have been able to do easily. Harpagus finally found the means to revenge the gruesome death of his son. Instead of quelling the rebellion, he joined forces with Cyrus, and they returned to the Median capital to overthrow Astyages. The dream that had haunted the Emperor had finally come true. The new combined empire under you, our lord and emperor Cyrus, has grown and prospered since then.”
Monushir bowed slightly and turned again to face Cyrus.
Cyrus glared at him. “Out with it, you bombastic fool! What is the significance of my dream?”
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
To continue my story, the mage went on:
“Harpagus the soldier finally confessed to the king when pressed to tell the truth. By this time, the king was loathe to kill his grandson, so instead he punished the poor soldier. One day, Emperor Astyages invited Harpagus to a feast and he asked the soldier to send his young son in the morning so that he could spend some time with the other noble children before the feast. Harpagus was delighted to have been invited, and he decided that the king must have reconsidered his dire act and realized that it was better to have a noble grandson like young Cyrus.
“All of the nobles were served by porters who came and set various meats and other delightful foods on their dishes. Harpagus ate heartily of the tender meat while laughing and telling stories of his exploits along with the other men. Toward the end of the great feast, Emperor Astyages called for order. He announced that Harpagus was the guest of honor and was therefore, the only one who would partake of the last wonderful dish. The steward brought a great covered dish out before him and opened it. Harpagus’ grin turned into a rictus of terror when he saw the head of his son surrounded by his severed feet, hands, and genitals in a gaily- decorated arrangement.
‘Do you know where the fine meat that you have eaten so heartily came from?’ asked Emperor Astyages.
“For a moment, Harpagus was too stunned and grief stricken to speak, then fearing for the lives of his other family members, he said, “Yes, my Lord. I understand.” He took the remains home for the death rituals and wept bitterly for his lost favorite son.
Harpagus feared for his family after that time, but he continued to act as Astyages’ faithful and apt soldier. He would bide his time.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
As I said, this was the first time I had entered a person who was deep in a dream. It was disorienting. I felt Cyrus woke with a start. Sweat was beaded up on his brow and upper lip. His night clothes were damp with cold perspiration. But he remembered the dream, as I did! I sensed that he dared not go to sleep again because he has had this dream before, only he would always forget the dream by the time the morning would come.
Now I discovered another strange anomaly. Cyrus is able to exert his will at times, even when I tried to take over. Yes, I had noticed that this was the case with Rustem, but he was, after all, a sorcerer. Perhaps he had put some sort of protective spell on the king. I did not know, so it worried me. It took much energy to even guide his thoughts.
Cyrus waited for a moment in his enormous bed, sitting still in the moonlit room with his head in his hands. I regressed to a corner of his mind, waiting, for I felt weakened. When his panicked heartbeat returned to normal, he reached out for the bell on his nightstand and began to clang it vigorously. When the wild-eyed servant rushed in, disheveled and panicked, the King of Kings said, “Get the magi. Assemble them into the council chamber without delay.”
There was a short silence as the magi glanced at each other after the emperor related his dream to them. The candlelight did not entirely banish the darkness in the Council Chamber and the utter silence outside added to the air of a secret meeting.
“Ahem...” Monushir the Head Mage looked at the others. “Well, speak!” Cyrus demanded. “This dream, as you well know, is remarkably similar to the dream of Astyages, the Median Emperor, and your grandfather. Will you permit me to retell this noble tale for the sake of the young magi?” Monushir asked.
Cyrus waved him on.
“As you recall, Astyages had dreamed that a great flood came from his daughter, Mandane’s womb, and had flooded the world. Calling the magi to interpret the dream, they told the Mede that his daughter’s womb would produce the man who would overthrow him. Wanting to avert such a disaster, Astyages married her to an unambitious Persian by the name of Cambyses and then sent the couple off to rule Persia. He thus tried to insure that his daughter’s son would not be a threat. He would be a Persian, owing to his father’s lines, and he would live far from the capital. Astyages had no peace, however. Later, as the dream returned, haunting his days and nights, he decided to kill the child that his daughter and the Persian, Cambyses, had produced.” He tuned to the young magi. “You understand now, that this baby would become none other than our lord, Cyrus the Great, King of Kings.” He bowed and continued.
“Sending a trusted soldier by the name of Harpagus to Persia to perform the evil deed, Emperor Astyages tried to forget about the affair and to regain some of his peace of mind. To his dismay, the dreams did not go away. They became worse. What Astyages did not know, was that the soldier had been so affected by the pleas of the princess for the innocent, but regal baby Cyrus, that instead of killing it, he left the baby prince with peasants whose baby had just died. As time passed, the child’s kingly bearing set him apart from the other peasant boys and soon the tales of a princely child reached the ears of the great Astyages, who began to suspect that his grandson Cyrus was not dead after all.”
To be continued…
Friday, May 10, 2013
It was my misfortune that the King of Kings had a mind that was very mysterious. I chose an hour just after midnight to enter his mind. He was fast asleep, and I knew there would be little resistance. Yet, at the very moment I entered, the king was dreaming. Somehow, this was an inopportune time, for I found myself drawn into his dream as if it were actually happening. I had never entered into a dreaming mind, and I will be cautious not to do so in the future. Cyrus lay deeply asleep. His right hand twitched slightly as a dream began. Mandane, his mother, is lying asleep on a fluffy mound of blankets. He sees the Median king, Astyages, watching her as she sleeps, quite naked. Cyrus sees something slowly pushing its way out of her vagina. I am both aware of Cyrus and his horror, as well as my own. I sense that my fear is greater than his, for I cannot bear the sight of her naked vagina. The thing that emerges seems soft at first, but as it materializes, it becomes more solid. The growing goes on with increased cracking and popping sounds as a great tree forms. It continues to grow out of her until it seems to cover the entire earth. Looking from above, we see that Astyages has been skewered by one of the huge branches. His limp body hangs there as the tree continues to grow.
Cyrus and I watch in shock as the tree hardens and sets its branches. It seems to me that its branches have spread out into every corner of the world. There are two major branches coming from the main trunk; however, there are many other strong branches. As we watch, one of the two big branches seems to twist itself around the other, which seemed to be trying to push it aside. Red blood pours from the branch and it appears to decay rapidly, turning brown and mushy before our eyes. The remaining large branch begins to writhe in all directions. Some of its minor branches break off. Finally, with a great spasm, it too, begins to rot.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Now I wanted Rustem to see his handiwork. The way he had killed his wife and daughter, for I heard nothing coming from the bleeding hut now. They had to be dead. The boy Mihr finally got up and ran to the nearby village for help. He returned with two village women, for women were the only ones who could approach the bleeding hut. They soon left, but I saw that the boy sprawled on his behind weeping. They had to be dead.
Soon a small crowd appeared, headed by two men joined to each other by a cotton rope. Two black and brown dogs, the ones they called “four-eyed dogs” were likewise joined. They were the corpse handlers and their sacred dogs. The dogs were believed to be able to sniff out the Corpse Demon and force it to leave the body. If they did not do this, the demon would enter a living body, usually through the mouth or anus.
I watched as they broke down the door of the hut and removed a body. It was the body of the Sorceress Anahita. They did not go back in. A chill passed through me. The girl must have escaped. It should not have concerned me, for the mother was the real danger, but somehow I was frightened. Something was surely amiss.
Suddenly, I felt Rustem’s mind snap. He no longer needed me to harass him. The sight of his dead wife caused him to give in to his insanity fully. He approached the crowd and began to shake hands with people, commenting genially on the fine weather. He acted as if they were gathered for a party at his home. People whispered, “He is mad. Yes, he is a madman. Avoid looking at his eyes.” Others said, “Perhaps the Corpse Demon has already infected him.”
I laughed heartily, but my fun with Rustem was over for the most part. I stayed with him as he wandered to the stream and took up the stick he used for killing xrafstars. I produced a vision of crabs with red bodies. Their shells were spiked with sharp, thorn-like protrusions that exuded poison. I added scorpion-like tails that moved menacingly over their backs. At first, I produced a few. He stuck at them in a frenzy as their guts splashed onto his face and arms. More and more of them erupted from the stream until an army of clattering claws filled the air. Rustem struck madly until, stepping on a large crab that burst open producing copious slime, he slipped. His head hit a large river rock and he died. As his soul left his body, I struggled to escape.
I found myself in my own body. The pain was excruciating. My body was stiff from having been curled up in the hollow of the tree. Insects had feasted on it, and mice had chewed my exposed nails, despite the protective spells I used. I screamed long and hard as my own agony tore through me. I had also felt the sharp pain when Rustem’s head had struck the stone, and I had bitten my own tongue in the agony. Still, I had succeeded. I had not only punished my enemy, but I had also honed my skill of possession. Now I knew where I wanted to go next. I would find that Cyrus the Great and teach him that he was not so great after all.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
I never expected to have such good luck, but I did. While Rustem was madly seeking and killing xrafstars, and his son was cowering most of the time from his father’s madness, the women were left alone. I dared not peek at them, for certainly the sorceress Anahita was powerful. I sent a minion, a large cockroach, to observe them. I saw through its eyes. I realized that the woman was actually pregnant. She muttered about having to visit a witch, for she felt that she could not carry a child. She feared for her daughter. If she revealed her pregnancy, she would not be allowed to accompany her daughter to the bleeding hut. She felt that the girl was too young to survive the cold and her fear. Anahita was able to make it to the witch’s house, where she drank an herbal concoction meant to expel the child. However, she fell ill—she was dreadfully ill.
Somewhere in Rustem’s head, alarms sounded. He knew something was wrong, so I had to keep him unbalanced. When he heard his daughter scream for help—that her mother was dying, I made him hear the shriek of a demon. I made him see the Blood Demon inside the hut, scraping the walls with its horny claws as it tried to escape. Rustem rushed for a hammer-like tool and used long spikes to nail shut the door of the hut. Then he began to pile wood outside the door for good measure. As Rustem finished the job of stacking the wood against the door, he glanced down and his eye caught a movement near a crack. He saw ants—ants of the sort he had never seen in his waking life. They each carried little bundles in their big black mandibles. The bright, coarse red fur on their backs contrasted sharply with the shiny black of their abdomens. He could see the facets in their eyes as they looked at and away from him, as if in disinterest. Wrenching off both of his sandals, he began to beat frenetically at the horde of ants until his arms could no longer move. Then he fled to the house. His wife and daughter would be stuck in there, and soon they would die. I was getting back at him for having my ears cut off. Yes! He would feel the pain I felt one-hundredfold!
When the boy next checked on his father, he saw a strange sight. His father was gathering frogs by the stream. He would hold them by their back legs and dash their brains out of the rocks. You see, frogs are among the unfortunate creatures the Magi target as xrafstars. Their guts smeared on the rocks and the grass around the rock was stained red. It was going well.
Monday, May 6, 2013
The women were gone now, so I could begin the real work. The wind outside howled. I wondered how those women would survive the cold, but if they died, it would be all the better for me. Rustem would know that it was his fault. Oh how he would suffer! For now, I finally allowed him to sleep. In his mind, I would be making preparations. While his mind was weakened by sleep, I would lay the plans for the next day. I made him dream of xrafstars—roaches, lice, ants, blood sucking ticks, all monstrous and terrifying. The boy Mihr slept, but he was soon to know terror.
The light of dawn was just peaking out when Rustem’s voice croaked out.
“Mihr, move slowly,” Rustem rasped from under the hair that now covered his face. “Get the oil lamp and when I kneel, look into my hair and see if some insect is there.” He lowered himself with trembling knees while sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped in a rivulet from his temple.
Mihr obeyed, examining his father’s hair, which was now ruffled and unkempt, but he saw nothing. He noticed an unpleasant odor clinging to him. This was something that always emanated from a person I possessed.
Rustem’s breath was catching. Mihr pushed aside some of the hair to look at his scalp. I forced Rustem to imagine a scuttling insect when he felt the slight brushing of his son’s fingers. He leapt up with a muffled squeal and suddenly began to cavort around the room in terror, while he raked through his hair with both hands, mewling in dread.
I observed how Mihr got into a corner and stood as still as he could until it was over. Now Rustem just stood in the center of the room, eyes darting about as his breath hiccupped. The boy crouched in his dark corner with his head on his knees until sleep finally overtook him again.
I’m sure he was awakened by Rustem’s squeal of terror. I had drawn Rustem outside, where I now showed him a vision of giant, red eyed, hairy spiders. He was unable to move, such was his fear. Suddenly, I made one of them plop down onto his head so that the bulging abdomen split, covering him with vile, yellow slime. Waving his arms frantically, teeth bared, and wide-eyed, he keened in terror. I watched from his eyes as his son backed away into the house, ashen with dread. Rustem beat his head and squealed again, hopping up and down.
“Get it off! Get it off!” he wailed again and again as I held my stomach and laughed until I’m sure my body wet itself as it hid in the tree where I had left it.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Enough of this! I used this vile custom against my enemy. Rustem stared at his daughter with his mouth agape, then ordered her out to the Bleeding Hut. She began to cry and the Sorceress Anahita took pity on her and went with her to the cold and dark hut. The women had to leave the house now, because I would make sure that Rustem adhered to the custom of isolating menstruating females, no matter that he was terrified of being alone. The mother seemed determined to accompany her daughter to the bleeding hut. That was an unexpected boon, for she was the real problem. I chuckled again when I considered the thrill of sharing and enhancing Rustem’s fear. I rubbed my hands together and grinned at the image of Rustem gawking at the awful red stain, and feeling the demons crowd into the room. In his mind, the poor, big lout could hear the demons scuttling awkwardly, and his hands shook as his eyes darted around the room. This is going to be fun, I thought.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
You are not from these times, so I will explain Rustem’s terror. The magi had strange and fantastic beliefs. One was that when a woman menstruated, she was actually possessed by a demon. The blood was the indication of that possession. This story came from the fables of the Magi.
I will retell the story as far as I can remember:
It says in the Tradition that, in the beginning of time, the God Ahura Mazda and the Evil Spirit Ahriman had to fight for dominion. Ahura Mazda created man, who could help and support the god. When the Foul Spirit saw that both he and the demons would be undone by the Righteous Man (the first man created by the god), he was stunned. For 3000 years he lay stunned.
During that stupor, the animal-headed demons one by one lied, speaking into his ear: “Rise up, our father, for we will fight such a battle that Ahura Mazda, the God, will be in dire straits!”
One by one they enumerated their evil deeds in detail.
It did not pacify the wicked Foul Spirit, Ahriman, and he did not rise from his stupor for fear of the Righteous Man until the wicked Whore came at the completion of the 3000 years and lied: “Rise up, our father, for in that battle I shall let loose so much harm upon the Righteous Man and the toiling Bull that their lives will not be worth living. I shall steal their Fortune, I shall harm the water, the earth, the fire, the plant, and the entire creation established by Ahura Mazda!”
She enumerated her evil-doings in such detail that the Foul Spirit was pacified. He jumped out of his stupor and placed a kiss on the Whore’s head. The pollution now called “menses” appeared on the Whore then.
The Foul Spirit lied to the Whore: “Ask for whatever you want, and I will give it to you!”
Then Ahura Mazda knew in his omniscience that, at that time, the Foul Spirit was able to give the Whore what she wanted and that she would acquire much profit thereby.
The Foul Spirit’s body was like a frog to look at, but he showed a man like a 15-year-old youth to the Whore and bound the Whore’s mind to him.
The Whore lied to the Foul Spirit: “Give me the desire for man, so that I can sit down as his ward in his house!”
The Foul Spirit lied to her: “I shall not tell you to ask for anything again, for you only know how to ask for profitless, bad things.” But the time had passed, and if she had asked for it, he would not have been able to give it to her.
In the minds of the magi, this story means that human women, because of having the curse of menstruation placed upon them, will take on the qualities of the demonic Whore. Indeed, they are possessed by foul demons during this time. The men force them out of the house, even if it is freezing outside, and make them stay in the “Bleeding Hut,” as they call it. The woman is not given warmth, and they receive little food, which is passed through a hole in the wall as if the woman were a prisoner. She is not allowed to leave for five days. It is a cruel and senseless act against women. I find the magi to be hypocrites. They call me evil, but they are even more evil. At least I admit my evil and embrace it.
Friday, May 3, 2013
I sat inside of Rustem’s mind and wrung my hands nervously. I was elated at the turn of events, but I couldn’t deny the fear that surfaced again, to my anger and distress.
I tried to suppress it by gloating over my success. At least I was in.
The next step was to somehow get rid of the sorceress Anahita. When the morning dawned, I urged Rustem to hurry to the creek nearby the house. The water was unbearably cold, and although I suffered what he felt, being ensconced in his body, I cared not. I let him feel the full brunt of my disgust of sex. I wanted him to feel what I felt, and in this case, as I was made to suffer by his act of sex, he was made to suffer my disgust of it. It made the bond we shared very strong. He scrubbed himself with sand and mud until his skin was red and sore. The rest of the day he passed muttering prayers and avoiding his family.
In the evening, he returned to the house. His children were playing merrily inside. His wife, the sorceress Anahita, looked worried as she eyed him, and I became convinced that all of my plans were about to be shattered. Just then, as Rustem was unfastening his sandal, the wretched girl, his daughter Spenta, jumped upon him and grabbed his ears, urging him to pretend to be a horse. My loathing of the feel of her body was well communicated to Rustem, and he reacted by throwing her off. This was reckless of me, but it was an automatic response. I looked up to see Anahita narrowing her eyes, perhaps seeing me finally within the mind of her soon to be addled husband.
The demons in Hell smiled upon me, and a miracle occurred. As the girl landed on her face, I saw it. She was wearing a yellow skirt that dragged to the ground, but where her youthful womanhood would be hiding, was a red stain. I read from Rustem’s terrified mind that it was her first menstruation—something they had not expected yet.You are not from these times, so I will explain Rustem’s terror. The magi had strange and fantastic beliefs. One was that when a woman menstruated, she was actually possessed by a demon. The blood was the indication of that possession. This story came from the fables of the Magi. I will relate that tale tomorrow, if I am not too busy tormenting some poor devil.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The woman, Anahita, was awake. I crouched down low in Rustem’s mind and tried to cover my eyes, but when his eyes suddenly snapped open, I too, saw the woman. She was smiling slightly as she ran a gentle hand over her husband’s body. Damn it all! I was sharing that body now, and cringed from her touch.
I was unable to keep the sensation off myself. Although I struggled to stay incognito, a small squeak of fear escaped me as the woman began to untie the trousers. No, please keep her off! I prayed silently as alarm made my limbs stiff. I could feel the throbbing erection and I knew that it would find the woman. I covered my eyes with trembling hands, cowering in a corner of Rustem’s mind, but I could still feel the hot wetness of the woman come down over his appendage. The throbbing seemed urgent. I was sure that the cock meant to explode as the woman began her obscene and animal-like squirming as she rode Rustem. I too, felt the pain and the ecstasy as Rustem held back, daring the engorged thing to burst. I felt myself become inundated in their passion until I lost control entirely. Finally, with a primal scream of keen lust, I felt the thing go limp and at last, the woman gave up her wild ride. I felt her hot and pulsating cave disgorge the uselessly limp and slimy thing as she fell to her back with a sigh of satisfaction.
I was thankful that Rustem hadn’t noticed me in the passion of the act and his exhaustion after it, for I began to cry hot tears of mingled shame, disgust, and horror. I stayed in the deepest part of Rustem’s mind, wringing my hands in a fit of loathing. I thought of my body, which lay curled in a huge hollow in the trunk of a tree. Although my mind was elsewhere, my body kept a tenuous connection with it. My body was now wracked with violent trembling as its hands dug their nails into their palms. It was cold now as the sticky liquid between its legs began to cool. The ache in my body’s penis was unbearable.