Weed Island to the Raven


I soon imagined an island far away and began to thrive on it. There
were two hemp plants growing in the midst of a rainforest by a soothing waterfall. In that moist, tropical setting, four sugar gliders leap from the tallest of trees to reconnect with each other like trapeze artists on distant branches. Around a stagnant swamp, sticky black frogs with bright yellow blotches communicate with each other by bloating in tune. A small walk down one of the scenic paths, leads to a gathering of families who have arisen. They will partake of their morning duties in an orderly fashion and there will be no discord, for they are the perfect society. In the center of this region stood a dormant volcano that rose to the sky like an exquisite breast. Between straw huts in lush surroundings was a path that led to the isle's core. The slapping on the rudimentary crafted drum by a small native boy was like a hypnotic pulse that began to draw out the wild. Ever so slowly did they make their presence known.

Just then a twig snapped beneath the tiger's heavy paw! Suddenly, the ground began to tremble and the volcano erupted. Molten rock oozed down the slopes of its incline in a steady and continuous motion, yet for some strange reason did not appear to be hot. Neither did it really seem
to go anywhere. Like electric fireplace logs that crackle and pop without emitting any heat to the touch. Soon the favillous mound of extruded waste became nothing more than a mask of hardened lava. Transparent and colorless, like a piece of wood done burning as it turns into a hollow lighted shell of white ash. Then the igneous formation of the earth's magma settled down with a thud into a pillow of powdered charcoal. It then disappeared as though it had never happened.

Because of this, every tree in that jungle gave birth to Pommaretes which fell to the soft earth and opened on their own. As tiny green ants with little red faces began to investigate the matter, their antennas begin firing pods into the air. This brings them all out into the scorching sun. While a colony of ants were pouring over the speckle colored fruit, a lady dressed in nothing but a shawl made of butterfly wings peered out from behind a tree. As their abdomens swelled, they crawled, deep down, into the earth and died. All at once, the land was overpopulated by the green seedlings! Weed Island had formed and its occupants were most delighted. The beautiful land of tiki dolls and magical beasts would unknowingly play
a pied pipers flute unto its citizens who had now come forward to pay homage to this wonderful plant, whose toxins are the lifeline of an impoverished dream. Castaways from neighboring islands wash ashore
on rafts made of wood and twine; they are griff.

                                          Pg 9
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Hula girls in grass skirts wearing their traditional leis conjure images of a life which could only be told through the text of the worlds purest novel. Behold, my fictitious dream is alive and living in another century! Long before its destruction was its inception. Where virginity was woman's
gift to man, and the man's prize for living was to treasure and adore her. The sincere smiles are imprinted on the heart and embroidered on the landscape of the soul. Here women swivel their hips to enchanting melodies while another offers the gentlemen upon arrival a refreshing beverage. How wonderful is the bearer of life! Sweeter than any given
fruit is she, so be gentle. How inviting are the eyes that allure me, than
the hands and arms that shimmy up and down their sides like innocent serpents without sin in a garden of earthly delight. What a calm and peaceful day it is in the valley of the mind. Where sun and shadow are but a stones throw away, and latitude and longitude come together as one in a whole. Together they create hearty portions of dreams fed to small eager mouths, like the pride of a mother in the caring for her newborn nestlings. *Thus was the challenge earned*

As I lay on the bed with my eyes fixed on the drop ceiling tiles, a meditative trance would dissolve them completely while sending me deeper and deeper in thought. I contemplated the daily endeavor of traveling to and from the city each day as my stepfather has done for the past eight years while working as a janitor. He would later serve as handyman before being made superintendent. The managerial hierarchy he works for has no significance to anyone, apart from those who rent an office or floor in that habitation or those who strive to maintain its upkeep. That building, whose name I have entrusted is situated in the bustling heart of midtown and was a contemporary structure in its heyday. With elaborate festoons decorating its pilasters of stone, one could almost see the headlines from the
New York Herald.

"A booming city of industry caters to the masses of immigrant workers now arriving at Ellis Island! Here they will find work, and here they will call home" Upon entering, one would see a dated cartouche above his or her head bearing the year of completion. Then an ornate coffered ceiling, that
I as a child would stare at like a mute tourist. Nearby stood a fuliginous church whose appearance seemed to mock the inside of a chimney. Before factories and automobiles, you were surrounded entirely by grass and trees. The medieval beasts hanging from your facade are left to wither in the rain and snow. They appear to be somewhat frozen in time, ever watching the passersby enter and leave the sanctuary, while they themselves seem to have been extricated by celestial beings poised high above as the Heavenly Father looks on in the spirited form of a cross. Its demeanor could imply a message stating, let your sins be resolved here and take them not with you when you depart from this holy place.

                                          Pg 10
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The dawning of the day was now upon me, where I lay elevated. My head propped up on a comfortable pillow turned sideways. The juxtaposition of the cup and bottle had not changed and for some strange reason, I found that to be fascinating! Unsteadily, I rose to my feet and drew the curtains. How interesting are these two awkward legs of mine? Without notion or emotion, they just go! Welcome to the land of the stoned!!!

I then began to envision a sweltering city at high noon. Air conditioners trembling and horns blaring from impatient motorists stuck in traffic at a standstill. Jackhammer's pounding away at a wounded street expose the harsh virtues of an inner city's core. I was somewhere in the middle of Mott Street and Canal. As I descended upon midtown, I could now see
a composite sketch of a skyscraper that had air conditioners instead of windows. As color and contrast collided, it formed an astounding work
of art before changing into a jig-saw puzzle. The water dripping out of countless air conditioners was like a faucet in need of a gasket and soon the trickle would become like that of an open water main. As it flowed from the units it came to resemble a mini Niagara Falls that flooded the entire city. Soon there would be nothing left but a gurgle of air bubbles rising to the surface on a quiet and desolate sea. Suddenly, my mind
grew dark. There a demon sprouted from a dead flower. The face of indescribable horror was now only inches from mine in a silver mirror
of deceit where my heart palpitated and my eyelids impulsively opened!

It appears that after generating so much energy on a concentrated level, I let my mind drift away in darkness where I was startled by this frightening aberration. I would have closed my eyes sooner, but thought he might still be there! I then realized I would have to hone in on my basic skills if I was going to get any resolve. I truly enjoyed the flowing patterns that took me deep inside my own convoluted realm, but what I seemed to be lacking was the ability to transform these mainstream ideas into anything substantial. I would have to meditate through closed eyes while
searching for the focal point in objects, without allowing the objects to generate themselves! When this happens, we become nothing more than
a representation of madness.

                                          Pg 11
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Through the eyes of a raven, I watched the city with apprehension. It was time to go. I released myself from my perch on high and flew gracefully into midtown on a North wind breeze. I could clearly see the towering structure reaching up into the stratosphere and realized it was but a thimble to the surrounding monoliths. Its impeccable design had been well configured to the exact angle in my mind, where the sun hung heavy on the black tar roof. A tiny shadow could be seen adhering to the roof's edge, before it slowly began to creep down the buildings structure.

When it covered the exterior face, the raven, who was I, swooped down to see Ramon, who was at ground level near the street sweeping. He whistled a tune like in those silent movies, and I had absolutely no idea what that tune could be. Several vehicles passed him by, before a dark green waste management truck made the turn to come up the street. It was reminiscent in its appearance of a sanitation truck and had a shiny painting of Coney Island Tillie on its side. This soot belching monster sounded like it was having a stroke as it lurched forward before pulling itself into gear! As it did this, fluid spilled out from the rear compactor where the hydraulically powered tailgate was and onto the roadway where Ramon was standing. This milky fluid created a stench so revolting, it could be smelt from outer space! Ramon witnessing this chased after the truck, but he tripped and fell, barreling down the street. As he brought himself to his feet and dusted himself off, he yelled in disgust "Puta que te parió!" (((and))) "La concha su madre!!!"

A man passing by reached into his pocket for change, but in haste lost a dime on the way. Slipping through his fingers it bounced hitting the steel lined curb where it froze in mid air. It was at this moment that I, the raven, locked onto its image, having caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the still light. The impression on the dime was gone and the portrait the coin now bore was that of the raven's own. Time was still moving a second per hour until the raven blinked. When this happened, life was given back to the living where gravity would reclaim the object, pulling it toward earth. As the raven head coin fell, it made its way through a hole in a sewer cap and plummeted far below street level. It landed like a drop of mercury in an inkwell and was gone. Here under the vaulted sidewalk, business was being carried out in a most proficient way. One that involves large building plans and swaying lanterns!

                                          Pg 12
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I followed the men in suits through catacombs of darkness, past the incessant echo of sloshing feet in puddles of murk. The tunnel soon split apart and the three men were baffled. They merged to the right, but I went left. There seemed to be something down there, and I figured it was probably just a rat. As I trudged on, I was overcome with a feeling that
I could no longer go back. With every step I took, the tunnel seemed to
be narrowing behind me while expanding out in front of me. Eventually,
I reached a wall with a large rusted turning wheel to open it. As I spun around, I noticed I was in a huge isolation chamber that seemed to go
on for miles and miles without any end to it in sight. I then looked
behind me to notice the turning wheel had vanished.

Suddenly there was a large roar like the applause of millions. The victor stood alone where the emperor hailed the crowd! I could see the ruins of the Colosseum assembling all around me, but shook off new thoughts forming before realizing there was no longer an entry point. Neither was there an exit way. Upon walking, I noticed something up ahead in the distance. An out of place square on the floor was blinking rather fast. Skating over to it, I looked down. It stopped on a bluish grey. I then placed both feet down upon the square and the trap door swiftly
snapped open, as if a hinge had suddenly broke!

Faster than the speed of sound I barreled down the shaft, as if shot
into a well from a catapult before hitting the great expanse of water surrounding the cliffs like jelly. This embryonic fluid lapped the shore
and gave life to whom ever touched it. Those opulent waves carried a reflection of the turquoise sky along an inspiring course, until at last, the crest reached the banks of the escarpment. Such a panoramic spectacle to behold! In a guerite projected from the rocky hillside, a family of Spanish dwellers wave to me in their contentment. How splendid, is this day indeed, I thought to myself loudly! I then waved back to them from beyond the glass curtain. They laughed and drank while Margarita de Pembro sprinkled burnt orange rose petals from the smallest of turrets directly above her Castilian shoreline. Like sparkling seashells they fell,
oh so weightlessly landing all around me in this amniotic sea. Quickly, they perpetuated themselves into what appeared to be tiny fish-like creatures. The internal workings of these aquatic organisms were pulsating as they expanded, and it wasn't long before they adapted to the heavy water. Although when this happened, they became exceedingly visceral. . .

                                          Pg 13
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Slowly, they began to swarm around me, until they became an ivy of centrifugal force that went faster and faster until even they had no control over it. As they vehemently lassoed my ankles, an intense suction was formed pulling me under by my heels. Leave me alone and go about your way, I wriggled in struggle! They did not listen for they had nothing to hear with. Instead I was yanked to the bottom of that ocean like a lead sinker! On my way down, I saw an old wooden ship jutting up from its watery grave. The figurehead that was still attached to its decaying bow was breathing rather gently as I passed it. I immediately thought of the artisans of the world who gave life unto that which had nothing. A block of wood, a chunk of stone, or a canvas. Even the tattoo artist, per se. Upon reaching the vestige of what was once known as the continent of Atlantis, my feet touched down upon the arc of a flying buttress from some primitive cathedral. I was then thrust into sand through bony layers of clay in salt erosion. Past dinosaur fossils in hardened muck to the remains of Adam.
I then bored through a knothole in the plate of time, whereas after this,
I slowly began to fall from the sky.

I beseeched the Heavens in its glory and became the wind. Looking down, I saw Ramon in the same spot sweeping. His appearance seemed to rival that of an ant moving about, and when put in fast motion, he looked like
a fat little spider bouncing around! I laughed to myself at this insanity. Following my movements, a grey cat watches lazily as I take form on the ground. Solemnly, and quietly he gazes out at me from where he is curled up below a double brass standpipe. His tail, shivering like a rattlesnake as he watches an insect scuttle away. It is too small to play with and presents no challenge in the form of carrying out a swift attack. Don't let those tired eyes fool you, they are the main ingredient of a killing machine. Ever hunting and always on the prowl, he tantalizes the moon.

*(The sun is falling rapidly)*

Across the street in the little Chinese restaurant that no one has ever been to, the entire staff stands waiting. It's been almost forty years now and not one customer. That is because in 1946, young Feng Shi forgot to put the sign up. Not to worry though, no one would have come anyway and besides, no one has cooked in that restaurant in years. Even if someone did walk in, they would have to take a rag and wipe away years of dust for the employees are merely ghosts, trying ever so desperately to be who they once were. Kind of like us in a way.

The scene then changed sporadically and was gone.
The sun, now overshadowed by the earth exploded!
I floated in darkness to the source of all that shimmers.
A wavering strand eclipsed by an ion took me away.
Ninety thousand soldiers on a pinpoint through a hole
escorted me to a river of red. Alas, I found the shore of noses.
To know of this uncertain place where ears make their ascent;
on wings of fashioned hay a bright light shines.
Up into the atmosphere and away into the night
they reach the geometric pleasure dome of brilliance.

                                          Pg 14
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Inkpop reviews for chapter 3

Born to blossom; Blom to perish - You have great imagery with great characters. Your a good writer. You captured my attention at the start
and held it all the way until the end. Good job.

L. C. Candle - Your first paragraph reminds me of the Lord of the Flies. Take
that however you will, lol. And then you kind of just...go off the end with it and
you throw in a sentence that sounds like a three year old wrote it. My visual is
cracked. Your words have lost their vibe that they got in that first paragraph
because of the sentence "Just then a twig snapped beneath the tiger's heavy
paw!" Instead of this mature writing I was introduced to, I'm confused by simple
words. Simple sentences are terrific and commonly used words are great to, but
you always have to stay away from the writing style English teachers taught
you in middle school, it's very distracting and doesn't allow growth in your
writing, either. You have terrific imagery, terrific diction. I'm confused by the
chapter's plot because I've not read the whole thing, so I can't comment on
anything like that. I'd say work on your transitions as well which seem to read
very roughly and occur too quickly. You have good beginnings and such but your
formatting is odd (I.E.; *(The sun is falling rapidly)* ???) that may be something
that was established early on, I'm not sure, but it does look incredibly odd. It
also seems like you switch persons which makes the reading a bit odd. I mean
this is strong literary fiction, yes, but if you're going to write first person, please
try to make that person very visible amongst your imagery, like John Steinbeck
does in the narratives before almost every chapter in East of Eden. Again, good
literary fiction, although it does get confusing. Good job.