A New Introduction for a New Era of Death and Carnivals!

Two years have passed and like quite a few sincere projects this languished due to neglect, in those two years I've traveled quite a bit and perhaps am a little closer to my quest as a writer for the holy grail. In any case, writing short stories was a relatively short period of my life and have since dedicated most of my time to script-writing.

So what shall this blog serve to do? Merely a breeding ground for my ideas, a place to comment and sprawl various thoughts and notations, for those of you interested in my work, to get a glimpse in my thought process, but more importantly its for me to keep my ideas contained.

Within the Weeping Willow
By Eric H Emma

Once upon a time in an uncanny world filled with exotics inherent with mundane and petty motives an egg fell through a majestic willow tree. The egg collided with the soft soil, the thick membrane shell had shattered on impact, and it revealed what lay within, a small boy. His consciousness shocked into being by pain followed by a cacophony of the senses, light stormed through his retina, sounds beat down upon him, smells flared into his nostrils, the texture of the soil was frightening to his small fingers, and yet within seconds his self came into being. The boy at first crawled, enjoyed the simple pleasures of the senses that had once tormented him, and when he was ready within the overcast protection of the grand willow tree he stood. To the naked eye the boy was but a child not more than the age of nine.

The boy stepped out of one cocoon into yet a bigger one, the weeping willow’s core. The boy was enshrouded by darkness for few rays from the sun could penetrate through the thick foliage of the weeping willow and thus the boy was confronted by another daunting wall. The enclosed space was cramped by the willow’s many branches, its tears proudly hanging from them, and each strand of vegetation bearing the sweetness of bitter fruits to sustain the boy’s hunger. The willow took care of the boy’s every need and the boy was happy, at least in the beginning.

The boy would spend his days exploring every nook and cranny of the willow in an exuberant search for sensations he had yet to experience: the toughness of the bark as it scraped his small hands, the softness of the soil as it caressed his feet, the texture of slug on the tongue, and various other wonders of the willow delighted the lustful boy’s curiosity, till finally he had explored all there was to explore in the willow, and then a gnawing began to take shape in his soul as he wondered what laid beyond the wall. It was during the quiet of night during those brief everlasting moments before sleep with only his thoughts for company, it gnawed.

The willow granted curiosity’s wish and began to shed its tears. The dense foliage gave way around the timid boy and he noticed how small his world was as it begun to expand around him. At night the boy saw the outline of a lecher, a frightening winged beast, which alighted at the top of his beloved willow tree and he began to learn he was not alone in this world. As he saw the world that surrounded him, he retreated, closer and closer to the only thing that he ever knew the willow.

One day, before all the willow’s tears had dropped, an odious smell befell the naive boy. The musk was so poignant, so distinct, yet so utterly magnificent it awoke a dormant force within his soul. The gnawing overtook reason and the boy just ran, far from the protection of the willow tree. The boy squinted under the tremendous force of the sun’s rays, his skin’s nerves were sparked with life as ultra violet rays kamikaze on his cells, the gentile grass yielded to the tremendous force of his feet, and his lungs inhaled fresh air for the first time. The boy felt alive. His eyes finally adjusted to the sun to behold the beauty of the valley, yet he discovered yet another wall, a forest of trees encased this enchanting grove.

Finally, when his little legs could run no more he crumpled and fell on the soft, soothing grass. He laid there basking in the sun and letting UV rays dance upon his skin. Starring up toward the heavens he discovered the great beasts of the skies known as clouds. His nose however had caught whiff of the pungent musk that had originally inspired him to dare make this marvellous journey. The boy raised his head and to his horror he spotted whence the musk came, from “it”.

“It” was alien, a grotesque representation of the world’s twisted achievements. Aliens are the following: humanoid, male, and bipedal. Physically speaking they have two grey, beady, little eyes, lack a nose, and are endowed with something that can only be likened to that of a beak. An alien has two long, slimy, and ensnaring tentacles. Aliens also dress the same: a dashing pin-striped suit, a black top hat, black leather shoes, and a matching black attaché case. Aliens are identical in every way, not an ounce of uniqueness lay within their ugly bodies, except for the distinct musk they carry with them.

The alien in his dashing pin-striped suit and with his long soothing tentacles extended outward glided toward the frightened boy. The alien opened its ghastly beak whence flowed the first question the boy would ever hear, “What is your name little boy?” Much to the boy’s surprise he understood thus his identity was born in the face of another.

The boy’s face formed a grimace followed by his first utterance, “I don’t know”. The alien let out a boisterous laugh, its tentacles flew up into the air blocking the sun, and his beak cracked wide open, “I once was as you are... an empty shell till I was found and brought to the city.” The boy looked up at a monster that was growing more and more amicable as the conversation went on. The boy asked, “What’s a city?” That familiar laugh had yet again erupted from the jubilant stranger and when it had settled down it replied, “Why, it’s a wondrous place filled with people and it is always in need of workers” The boy frowned and asked, “People like me?” The alien was quite offended by connotations not meant by the small boy perhaps the alien felt a twang of envy for opposable thumbs. “What do you mean people like you? You mean dumb and ignorant people who don’t know the meaning of work? Do you want to be like that? How can you do work with those puny arms, you need tentacles!” The stranger proudly threw its tentacles in the air and the boy felt the prickly needles of shame for the first time as the stranger towered above him.

The stranger feeling it had firmly asserted itself then asked, “The reason I came over in the first place is that I’m somewhat lost, you wouldn’t happen to know which way the city is?” The boy shrugs ignorantly which made the alien quite indignant and thus responded, “Of course not”

After a few moments of silence, in which the boy first discovered the finer points of society known as awkwardness, the alien said, “I say little boy, how would you like to come to the city with me, forever surrounded by company, it’ll be hard work during the day but at night, you’ll have the time of your life” The boy turned away absorbing the valley and the willow’s immense beauty as well as fully realizing the coldness of solitude. The boy yearned to give into temptation, to let it fully coil around his soul, to give into such hedonistic ecstasy, and to become one of them. The boy asked, “Would I become like you?” The alien was silent and though the boy was young it needed no explanation. The boy stared out across the great divide racked with great causation. In the end, the boy rejected the alien’s offer and it went on its merry way.

As the alien walked off into the night it was being watched from the skies by a lecher. It descended from the skies, black metallic wings blocked out the sun, and talons ready to tear flesh were fully extended out. In the few moments the alien had, he was enraptured by the sight of such a divine creature, her beauty was only matched by her unrelenting cruelty. His awe was brought to a screeching halt as the lecher’s talons gorged into the alien’s face, she smiled and he screamed. The alien’s useless tentacles flailing in the wind as the lecher dragged him through the air back toward the weeping willow.

The boy whom bore witness to the entire scene stood in awe. All it took was a few glimpses of femininity and already the boy was ensnared. The gnawing had now engulfed his being and he knew he must go after his divine goddess. The boy returned back to his once protective cocoon, to venture to the top, to confront his fears, and to cross the final threshold. The boy looked up and the willow seemed to stretch to the heavens. Men were not meant for such heights yet the boy knew to survive he must climb it and defy the impossible if he was to see his lecher, the gnawing commanded it.

The boy began his trek to the top. He grabbed one of the willow’s strong branches and hoisted himself up. As he climbed he discovered the world that had lain above him all this time and was humbled. Soon hunger had set in and no longer could he have lived off the tree’s succulent fruits for he had travelled too far. There he lay as he reached a height never dreamt by an alien but paltry to a lecher. Feelings of failure entered into his consciousness and he considered giving up. The boy had discovered hardship.

The boy persevered and eventually found at the end of one of the weaker appendages was one last bitter fruit. He began one step at a time. The branch started to shake halfway there. He lost his balance. Regained. Deep breath and he continued on. The farther out he got the less stable it became. Almost there. CRACK. His head darted back. His eyes shot up. Fear consumed him. With only moments to spare the boy did the unthinkable he jumped into the abyss, straight off the tree into the darkness of night.

As the boy fell he saw the harbinger of his doom descend upon him. Metallic wings blocked out the night. Her talons opened. The boy screamed. No escape. He was the lecher’s now. This was not how it was suppose to be. BLACKNESS. There was no pain. In the next instant a thought fluttered through the boy’s mind as he wondered what had happened. He realized he could still feel, he could still hear the wind, he could still wobbles his little legs, and thus he was still alive. The lecher had not sunk her talons into the boy’s face instead she gently plucked him out of the sky as if plucking an apple from a tree. Within the blackness the boy was forced to face himself, his thoughts, and his fears for he truly was in purgatory now. For the first time he was forced to think. He suffered the burden of such a privilege.

Trapped in purgatory the boy was led to a frightful quagmire. He was faced with a question to which he had no answer, what did he want? For he certainly did not wish to become a grotesque alien, nor did he wish to be alone, perhaps his lecher had saved him? CLACK. The world opened to the boy again. Her daunting yet divine figure towered above him for the first time he saw the magnificent beast up close. He was in her lair, her nest that lay high in the heavens. The nest was adorned with the skeletal remains of devoured aliens as if displayed accolades.

The boy looked up at the cherub’s face and her beautiful blue eyes bored into his soul. Etched across the lecher’s face seemed a tint of pride as she began their discourse, “Little boy, how fast we’ve grown yet why have you travelled where you do not belong.” The boy, who seemed strangely at ease, replied, “I needed to see you again.” The lecher, taken aback, replied, “Tell me what it is you want?” The boy responded, “I want to be like you” The lecher affectionately laughed at the boy’s innocence and with a tint of sadness broke to him the sad truths of the world, “No, your fate is resigned to that of an alien for it was written in the stars.” The boy was repulsed and lashed out with “Am I doomed to be so grotesque?” The lecher replied, “It is your choice little one, it always has been.”

The child changed his rhetoric turning to the alien skeletons, “Why do you eat them?” The lecher’s mood turned melancholy and she responded honestly albeit ashamed, “I hunger.” The boy asked, “Does the tree’s fruit not satisfy you?” She turned her face away from the boy and she responded, “Fruit does not provide me with virility” The lecher had revealed her ugliness for her freedom was dependent on the grotesque aliens. The boy, repulsed by the impurity of the divine, replied “Though grotesque they don’t deserve such a fate”. The lecher angered by such judgements, “You have much to learn little boy! This is not a nice world you been borne to! Aliens are vicious creatures, who prey on a weaker kind then yourself!” Her wings then lifted her into the sky.

The boy ran to the edge of the nest to stop her from leaving instead he was awed. His perception of the world had hit its zenith, expanded beyond anything he imagined, far past the green valley to uncharted places that seem to stretch on forever, and he learned there are no walls enclosing him in. CRACK! The boy turned to see out of the nest’s floor a hand popped through. The lecher had hidden one of her eggs within her nest for protection and for the boy. However what had emerged was not a small boy but a small girl and she had wings. The boy now understood the lecher’s cryptic last words and knew it was his duty to protect his companion from the horrors of the world. He took one last look at his brave new world atop his weeping willow, a world of lechers and aliens but also of humankind.