VP / Jones / Kassa SVP's Little Black Book of Terror

An Anthology Benefitting SAVE: Suicide Awareness Voices of Education
1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 979-8-9888540-0-5
Verlag: Laughing Black Vampire Productions, LLC
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 197 Seiten

An Anthology Benefitting SAVE: Suicide Awareness Voices of Education

Autoren/Hrsg.

VP, S

Jones, Anthanasia

Kassa, Naching

Ransom, Tonia

Kurtz, Nicole

Tapscott, Denise

Leseproben

3 Ascension BY KIRK A. JOHNSON “I AM VERY OPPOSED to this. Never has one of such tender years requested this most solemn of rites,” Master Dramane argued. Jasseh turned to Master Kakat, wondering when the old man would speak. It had been hours since they heard his petition, and the debate still echoed throughout the depths of the remote mountain stronghold. He fought his eagerness to speak, to argue his position to this august assembly. But when one stands in the center of Jaidon’s Dome—the oldest halls within the belly of the mountain, used by all the elders of proper age and wisdom to debate and discuss the issues of the day—reverence must be given. “And when did age become a hindrance? When did it become a weighted stone used to keep us down in the dirt?” An elder yelled from his seat. “Even Master Nyami waited till he was eighty and a hundred years!” countered another. “The Divine hungers for wisdom! Age is no guarantee!” cried another elder from across the circle of debating voices. Master Kakat finally rose from his seat and hobbled down to the two men, his lower jaw grinding like a camel’s. Jasseh felt the pounding of his heart echo in his ears. The ancient mystic always looked like that when he was no longer in deep rumination and judgment was about to be passed. The votes were even, for and against his Ascension. Luckily for him, Master Dramane was his former teacher, so he could not vote. Master Kakat would have to decide the matter. “Master Dramane, would you deny that young Master Jasseh has accomplished some extraordinary feats?” Master Kakat asked. “Do you doubt that he truly understands what it means to Ascend? Why does his youth bother you so?” “Most honored teacher, I’ve never been clouded by the accomplishments of my fellow adept, but—” “Then, if you have no further objections,” Master Kakat interrupted, turning to Jasseh and the twelve seated elders. “At dawn, Master Jasseh will take the Rite of Ascension and become one with the All Wonder.” His words echoed throughout Jaidon’s Dome, his judgment bouncing off the concave roof and encircling benches. He then resumed his grinding and hobbled out into an exit tunnel. Jasseh turned to Master Dramane and gazed into the old man’s glaring eyes. He refused to hold back the smirk that crept across his lips. Master Dramane just walked away, shaking his head, followed by a procession of his dissenting brothers. * THE FOLLOWING DAY, JASSEH prepared for his Ascension with an herbal laxative. As part of the ceremony, it was given to him to facilitate the cleansing of both the soul and the body. And seeing that he was to remain clean after the evacuation of his bowels, he needed to be washed by Master Dramane, an expert in the practice of purity. Jasseh couldn’t help but take some pleasure when a wet fart escaped during Master Dramane’s duty. Then he would fast for the rest of the day, sitting in deep meditation before the final ritual. Escorted from his chambers, he was taken to be shaven, bathed, and oiled. A slight tinge of regret pinched him as tufts of kinky hair floated to the ground. He didn’t doubt that Master Dramane took some pleasure in shaving away his once glorious crown of kinky hair. Many in the order took pride in maintaining this bit of vanity. But these were the sacrifices one made to join the Divine. That evening, after being shaved clean of hair—from head to foot, orifice to dangle—washed and oiled with shea butter, Jasseh left his sleeping chambers for the last time and went to the Summit Hall to meet with Master Kakat. As custom dictated, the most senior of the Fourteen Elders of the Order would escort the petitioner to the Summit of Ascension. He wanted to skip through the hallway like a child in summer, but he couldn’t risk the possibility of being seen. Austerity was the word of the day. “You must be very excited,” Master Kakat said, leading Jasseh up the winding cavern steps. “To be youngest of the Order of the Wayward Wisdoms and not even one of the Fourteen to take the Rite of Ascension. Even I, many years your senior, would never dream of such a thing.” Jasseh allowed himself a tiny grin. “There is no shame in guiding those with higher talents,” he said. Truth be told, he had demanded the Rite of Ascension. A high honor reserved for only the wisest of the Order, requested by those who believed it was time to leave this world and share with the Divine in heaven, as it is written. Jasseh believed it was now his time. He was born to do great things. And it was this idea of himself that pushed him. He’d read all the parchments of new knowledge and the tablets of old wisdom. He worked the fields with recruits and solved puzzles that baffled the most ancient of minds. He recalled how he aided in unifying the feuding Zarman clans, averting a war that would have engulfed the entire Mbor continent. And to think, all it took was a giant Clawbeak egg, paint, and the translated text of Zarma’s first sorcerer. Why shouldn’t I share my wisdom with the gods? Jasseh caught himself. Show humility. “You honor me, teacher. I could never have achieved so much without your guidance,” he said. Master Kakat stopped and looked back at Jasseh. “Your grasp of subtlety has increased my understanding of the world.” Jasseh looked up at his master and simply nodded. The summit stairs were an endless spiral ascending towards a point of light barely seen from the bottom. Jasseh took this moment to reflect on his journey to this secluded valley. He’d run away from home, believing—knowing—the pastoral life was for mediocrity; cattle herding was not for him. Moving from pasture to pasture, while cows, bulls, and calves mowed in the sun, was for the dull-minded. And he just knew the boring stories his cousins told would soon suffocate his keen mind. He remembered when he ran away north along the Binji River and then East into the barren Savage Lands beyond the Pillars of the Seven Simbon Lords. He remembered the chilly nights hiding in fear of the abominations that stalked through the night and the blistering days when only a sip from his water bag was all he had to sustain himself until finally reaching the valley. The sight of high palm trees and verdant green surrounding a titanic mountain that rose beyond the clouds straight into the sky took his breath away. “How magnificent that this patch of life should hold fast within this no-man’s-land. And that I should make the Trek to the Monastery of The Wayward Wisdoms. They can do nothing less than accept me. The wonders I will do,” he had said to himself. * THE SUMMIT OF ASCENSION was an ancient butte that sat atop the mountain, high above the clouds. Master Kakat and Jasseh arrived just as the sky turned red with the coming night and the sinking sun. Jasseh looked out into the grand expanse of soft, blanketing clouds. He turned, noticing twelve of the most ancient elders, after master Kakat, of course, wearing strangely grotesque masks shaped into unrecognizable creatures. All the masks were without eyes, with slits for mouths. To his right, he noticed large half-men covered in muddy-green hair with empty eye sockets, grunting their way to great gougoun skin drums and great bronze horns. Jasseh had never seen such tall, hulking things like them before, neither in his travels nor at the monastery. Standing straight and chin up, Jasseh disrobed, revealing his shining naked body and head, while the sweet smell of shea butter delighted his nostrils. Master Kakat took him by the elbow and guided Jasseh through the gauntlet of bowing elders to the edge of a cliff. “Are you ready, Master Jasseh?” Kakat asked, slipping on a small, eyeless mask. Jasseh stretched out his arms and closed his eyes. The half-men banged on the stretched drum leather, and a heavy rhythm engulfed them; its steady beat filling the elders with deep booms, which melted into their hearts, pumping blood, and sound through their veins. Then the horns blew, filling the air with dire bellows, giving their spirits the most melodious of sounds to devour. A tune meant for the gods. Call the Divine to me. Let me take my place amongst them. “I am ready, Master Kakat.” A throaty hum vibrated from the elders, adding to the now somber music of the Divines. The anticipation swelled within Jasseh’s heart. His eyelids quivered, and his lips went dry. He wondered what would happen if he peeked—just a little. He squinted his eyes ever so slightly to see a dark speck—a magnificent bird—dive out of the clouds a thousand leagues before him. It leveled off just under the clouds and glided at a leisurely speed towards the summit. He shut his eyes again as sweat glistened over his head. “They have answered the call,” Master Kakat whispered. Jasseh trembled. He took a deep breath to quiet himself. Puffing out his chest and raising his chin even higher, he gently lifted his eyelids. It was below him, skirting the base and rising along the cliff towards Jasseh’s curling feet. Jasseh craned his neck to get a...