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Of Portents and Poisons
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Of Portents and Poisons |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN 
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I blame Shakespeare. The genesis of my fall was seeded by his pen. My fate was sealed with that of Macbeth and his lady by the wyrd sister's prattle. Yet they do not envy me the moldering walls of my manses. I was once a creature of the open air, of sun, fire, water and earth. The elements found their apotheosis in me and through their might I became the greatest alchemist in the world. I mastered the parlor tricks of transmutation, the chemistry of altered states of matter but they held little interest. For me the greatest art was in the study of life and surcease of the same. In my laboratory I brewed the most potent of poisons: substances that ripped out the life, slowly bled it, and stopped thought. Those same flasks took up shelves with the very essence of creation, aging conquered and flesh knit. Spurred by jealousy and the words of the bard she stole in to my demesne with the dead of night. A witch of meager talents she was seeking a component that would provide the catalyst for her cauldron's brew. The harlot couldn't resist fingering, rifling, pawing my solutions and the clinking swept the sleep from my eyes. I leapt to my feet, finger accusing and laughed at her theft. Any bottle she snatched was as likely to be poison as long life. Her gaze was all steel. A gasp of words and skin and human features transmuted into scales and susurrations. Striking across the distance, filled the space between with broken glass and precious liquids lost. I was too slow to avoid and fangs pierced my flesh to recede and leave no mark. A thrown flask and the serpent's face blackened and eyes winked out: gold, silver then dark. The beast thrashed and in the chaos I was a rag doll against the wall, slumped to the floor in a tingling pool. The storm receded and the empty sockets focused on my own, unmoving. Whispering forward it considered and moved decisively and the world went cold and silver in agony. My one eye watched scales melt to flesh and laughter as she withdrew an ointment from the debris and restored her eyes, emptying the jar and my home. I was flooded, racked, devoured and restored. As the dawn crept through the broken door distant skin itched and burned. With the light came the will to move again. Fleeing the sun into the earth and fleeing farther still until the chill cradled me. Working in the dark places to recreate my health I found my art had receded beyond reach. No longer was I pure in my elemental union. The sun and the fire had left with my stolen eye and only silver moon and the chill of night was left to me. Poisons were without effort. The toxins ooze as every work turns to death. I hide in the dark with the chill and wet as my mates. Things of too many legs, eyeless visage and creeping nature break my fasts. I linger on, spurred by countless alchemical sources yet I am pleased that the sorceress-snake will one day know my touch and no more. |
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| © Copyright 2009 Abrahm Simons - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Alwye
Moderator
Member Elite
since 1999-06-16
Posts 3850In the space between moments |
Interesting premise here. I am also always enamored of your rich language usage. I'd like to see you develop this more. I am intrigued, but I have no connection with the characters as of yet. Who is this alchemist? And what about the witch? Who is she? Why is there this battle of wills between the two of them? You have a good nugget here. Time to flesh it out now.  I'm holding you to it, because I'd like to read it. ~*Krista Botterill*~ |
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
It's good to see someone else writing fantastical little pieces like this. Your diction is quite good and the fall narrative is well-done. Perhaps I am reading too much into it, but it sounds like a fantastical description of a loss of innocence. Alchemy, the historically quixotic quest to alter substances according to various mystical means, is a good device to throw in as a kind of examination of the inability of the contents of one's psyche to change a damned thing in the real world. A bit of nit picking, your tenses seem to be a bit out of wack here:
You might have begun the second paragraph with the last sentence of the first. Other than that, though, this was an enjoyable piece. Life's short. Think hard! |
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critical mass Member
since 2009-03-25
Posts 275Michigan |
I have been wanting to say something clever about this. but. Your use of words is a little intimidating to say the least. Excellent write. |
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HAZARD Junior Member
since 2009-06-24
Posts 40ENGLAND |
I do like the general thrust of this, but the language tries a little too hard. What I mean is the sentiment sounds right, but the words don't read as English should do when all is well. The most complex and nearest to some of the lines is Robert Browning. I don't mean you are a Browning, but you sound a little like him. I would rewrite a simpler version which develops an emotional bond with the reader, once the reader is on your side, then the kind soul will excuse some verbose fireworks and prosaic rhapsody... HAZARD |
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Marilyn Member Elite
since 1999-09-26
Posts 2621Ontario, Canada |
Desk Treader, Hey there my friend, I am glad that I came in here to read and found you. I have always enjoyed reading your pieces. I loved this and would love to see you work it further. I agree with the above said, the language needs some work and the characters need to be developed further so that we care more about what is happening and why. You have an excellent start here my friend. I hope you rework it and let us see it again. Marilyn |
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