Friday, 5 August 2016

The Crocodile Part 3 by Robert Fullarton copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

The Crocodile Part 3
by Robert Fullarton
copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

After leaving the crocodile to his own “devices” Blomquist found himself that night in his suspended bed conflicted in his feelings and he began to have doubts as to whether he could even go ahead with the experiment. He even had feelings of affection for the creature.

“His noble mouth smiles a cheery grin to me, his fixed gaze always wins my admiration! His calculated, meticulous stride, shows a sense of confidence that reminds me of the Burgmaster and his handsome face!” Blomquist spoke aloud to himself as he sat up in his bed, with its broken springs, damp mattress and torn coverings.

The night passed in tranquillity, a artificial peace between man and beast seemed to exist, in the air there hung a tension of anxiety that woke Blomquist early from his slumber. The sun rose above the cobbled rooftops of Gustavia, illuminating the steeple and the cupola of the St.Sebastian church and the adjacent graveyard where the distinguished forefathers of the kingdom had fought for the country’s independence and had since long been forgotten in time. All was once straightforward, so seemingly simple, life was short but sweet for the peoples of Gustavia, but these days it has become long, boring and bureaucratic!

The light deviated through the wooden panels in the attic bedroom, it was akin to a heavenly revelation, and in response the eccentric miser Blomquist, moaned aloud to himself with the lights beaming through, and after much consternation he returned to sleep once again.

On the first day of the experiment Blomquist tried to test the creature’s movements with regard to its communications skills. The crocodile would only move so long as the raw chicken pieces were thrown right in front of him! The creature was sitting out once again at the back of Blomquist’s house bathing in the sun, stubborn to move but staring at him on occasion baring a toothy grin that gave Blomquist the impression he was smiling at him in gratitude for all his “lessons in domestication”.

By the time evening had arrived, with no work completed in either the post office -with an entire office of angry, poorly paid employees lying idle, post unattended too, complaints gathering force, not to mention the threats of action that were issued to Blomquist that very afternoon- all energy was lost, time had been consumed in the efforts of changing, “breaking”, training and domesticating the rather bemused crocodile.

Delusions and illusions of grandeur ran through Blomquist’s mind. He indulged in the possibility of inviting all the members of Gustavia’s elite to dinner some evening-or at least the one’s he wanted to impress anyway- and show them his “well behaved crocodile”. He imagined inviting Heinrich the artisan, Rotweiler the head of the Nord Banken, Minister Daschund of the interior government and his wife. These were all prestigious people who had letters after their name and he had always been fearful in the company of such socialites, where the candle lit dinner dinners sparkled, the gluttony reached such heights as to create such terrible gastric utterances that the stomach, bowels and lower intestines were capable of reaching. It was another world. Was he going to try it on for size?

The crocodile had to behave himself, he could be dressed up, displayed by the door or the fireplace where the gentlemen would leave their boots to dry on a rainy evening, after giving their cordial salutations. He would be made to look pretty, give his claw, bow before Rothweiler, smile his toothy grin before minister Daschund and give a full freemasons’ handshake to the Burgmaster without delay and without making a hash of it! Yes he thought to himself that would indeed be the cherry on a very voluptuous cake!

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Wednesday, 3 August 2016

The Crocodile Part2 By Robert Fullarton Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

The Crocodile Part2

By Robert Fullarton
Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

II

Blomquist lay alone in his wooden abode, where his bed lay suspended on wooden beams, in an eccentric fashion in the shadows of his attic room. It was a sparsely furnished room, Spartan, bare and utterly unromantic to look upon, he was one of those good old fashioned misers! He had money, yet he did his utmost not to spend it but to hoard it. He if he did indeed spend money it was mainly for the utilities of “daily life” or for the “pursuits of making money”.

The climes of the now semi-redundant St.Sebastian Church played out, like an old fighter fighting on, still crying out, having been “put to death by the legislation of Gustavia” and yet it remained as a noble, sublime giant, which even its enemies marvelled in as a piece of the puzzle in their own confused identity. The dawn was like bleach blond ale poured out upon the amber, almost gingerbread like houses which were reflected like milk upon caramel coloured brown. It was beautiful, like a child’s dream in play, but Blomquist was stubborn to reside in the shadows, where only fingers of light could penetrate through the wooden panels above his bed.
Milkmaster Hummel reluctantly knocked on the door of Blomquist’s abode, promptly at the agreed time. Hummel handed him the specially designed steel cage with its four locks on either side, holding Iron grafts in place with Iron mesh and a muzzle over the crocodile’s mouth.

“Here, I hand you the keys to the locks. Feed him the raw meat I have left for you, don’t over feed him as they sometimes just like to heat themselves in the sun, to warm their blood and they often like to be left alone. Are you sure you still want to take him? I mean they are rather horrible creatures who show no affection and no personality,” said Hummel standing apprehensively in the great hall of Blomquists’home.

“I think they are like man. His instincts are rather simple to see, don’t we know man’s badness when we collectively observe it from the history books! He too is a killer! But oh how man is easily bribed like a crocodile with a piece of raw meat! I however want to tame the crocodile like man has been tamed by society. Hasn’t man been tamed from these times of peace?”

“How can man tame man and ultimately change the instincts and the motives that are encased inside his mind?”
Out of the cage glared the hypnotic eyes of the beast, a reptile whose existence was base, a creature who consumed without much thought whose institution was that of a killer.

“Personally I think your attempt is juvenile and the experiment will be a failure! To be honest any change will falter in time and these creatures will revert back to their old nature in time.” After voicing his objections, Hummel, bade farewell to his friend, leaving behind the keys, the equipment, the food and the cage itself and he hurried out through the garden gate.

The crocodile just stared into space as it sat in the corner of Blomquist’s dark brown mahogany kitchen, beside the long dining room table as Blomquist ate his supper of kippers and pickled cabbage soup in his dressing gown. Was the crocodile thinking to himself? Was he planning some sort of great escape, saving up precious energy so to make a run for the nearest chicken coup at the end of Blomquist’s long back garden?

“Hmmm..he does’nt say much!”

“He’s contemplating something, he’s rather different to say a parrot or a dog, he doesn’t vocalise, he thinks! Scientists have got it wrong! The crocodile is a pensive, introspective creature and if he is capable of thinking, then surely he has feelings too! He’s most likely upset that I never even offered him some of my kippers and pickled cabbage soup. It was impertinent of me to just leave him on the Persian rug while I drink claret, eat and sit in comfort.”

With a few pieces of raw chicken, he coaxed the creature step by step as it slowly crawled towards him out onto the back lawn where the crocodile was lured into a wooden outhouse, which had formerly been a toilet and a tool shed.
“There you go this shall be your living quarters and tomorrow at first light we will begin your training and then the experiment shall commence!”

The crocodile just about crawled into the outhouse, over the wooden steps enticed by the raw chicken thrown in his path, lured cunningly while Blomquist locked and bolted the animal in, ignoring milkmaster Hummel’s advice about “keeping the creature in his cage”.
Suddenly the sound of garden equipment could be heard crashing and tumbling, with sheer pandemonium as the crocodile swung his tail both left and right trying to find a spot to settle down in the poky outhouse. After leaving several large holes in the wooden circumference of the shack, the creature settled down and there was silence. It was an eerie silence and a warning against the eccentric delusion in which the poultry farmer entertained and in time his dreams were to be greatly disturbed!



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Monday, 1 August 2016

The Crocodile By Robert Fullarton Part 1. Copyright 2016 Robert Fullarton

The Crocodile

By Robert Fullarton
Part 1.

Copyright 2016 Robert Fullarton


These days perfection is apparently not something assigned to our spiritual and moral pursuits. But it has become a gilded, well smoothed facade, shapely and beautiful in appearance but bearing the grave insecurities of a people whose pot-marked, hollowed insides are adorned like a summer cottage.
In the town of Gustavia, the wealth and prosperity of the merchants, the brewers, the tradesmen and diplomats had succeeded beyond previous expectations, where wealth flowed and where men abandoned their old beliefs for the 10 a-penny philosophies that circulated the continent. In this land neighbour became a stranger unto stranger, love became unknown as these strangers mingled in the mist of a severe loneliness which the societies of the continent had ever known before.

Johann Blomquist had earned a meagre living running his own poultry farm along with the local postmaster’s office. Along with his professional duties with chickens and postmen he took a keen interest in the new advances of “societal science” and the world of animal psychology. The notion of perfection through experimentation is in vogue these days and even a “gamble for science” is seen to be excusable so long as it yields results for further studies on the road to a perfect knowledge in the field of study.

In Gustavia you see formalities bear a serious weight, streets are spotless, clean, often empty of people, with curfews extending on utterly unsociable hours, with all horse drawn carriages having been dismantled and all mares having been liberated from the Animal Labour Act Section 445, Sub section 25, technicality 15.
Blomquist had heard about previous experiments on turning lions into vegetarians, teaching dogs to be concertina performers and the teaching of table manners to Hyenas (but oh how their horrible laughter shattered the ear drums of the local convent sister superior who sued the Burgmaster for his outlandish methods of daring in the field of social science!).

Johann was intrigued and inspired when his friend, Milkmaster Karl Hummel brought him a present from the local Zoologist Jan Steiner and of course he took the matter to heart.
“Ahh blasted crocodile has eaten my cellar out of food, my beloved Tilsit cheese! My Serrano Ham, my leg of ham, my cuts of Beef from the butcher! He’s trampled over my cabbage patch and that tail of his, oh he swung it with such force that he knocked my wife out cold, not to forget he tore through my letter box with those tremendous teeth of his!”

“Hmmm..a crocodile! A fine animal, an enigmatic killer, notoriously known to be without emotive reasoning! Said Johann in amusement, clasping his hands in wild excitement!
“Yes”, said Hummel. “A notoriously cold blooded monster, Unchangeable not to be kept for domestic use or for any other purpose other than perhaps for the consumption of intruders!” Said Hummel with a brief expression of humour in his demeanour. “Yes perhaps the army could breed these creatures for the advancement of stealth warfare and catch our enemies off guard!”
“Karl! The zoologist has given you a gift for which we Gustavians must test the water with! We are the pursuers of perfection, pioneers in creating order out of the chaotic wilderness around us and yes we too can be the first people to tame crocodiles and make them behave themselves when in the presence of Noble stock!”
“You want to tame a crocodile!” Exclaimed Hummel simultaneously stupefied and amused.

“Yes Karl! Not just tame the creature, but train it and ultimately change its nature in time. If we introduce it to all the fixtures and luxuries of good living it is bound to concede to such temptations and give up its raw and brutal nature for my ploys in time. “

“Men have failed so far in their efforts to change the fundamental nature of animals and come to mention it men cannot change men, as we are stubborn in our refusal to listen to those talk sense in the face of the human will to dominate! All this comfort, with Gustavian wealth and privilege has gone to the heads of the people!” Said Hummel getting a little flustered in response.
Blomquist toyed with the idea, thought hard with a foolish grin upon his face, despite the mockery of the milkmaster, he eventually begged him into concession. “For the sake of their friendship!” Hummel agreed to bring over this Reptilian curiosity the very next morning.

Johann in sheer adulation closed the post office early that day, ushering his staff into the front office he stated, “work today has been relegated to the importance of science, I’ve got a very important visitor coming tomorrow and I’ve got to prepare for him!” Despite the strong protestations of several furious towns people.


The scent of wild flowers could be smelt in the summer sun, like an alcohol which had fermented by the end of the day, after the long hours of light and exposure to the air, this indeed intoxicated Johann as he walked along the vibrantly painted wooden houses of Gustavia. From the post-office he trotted in gentle gait until the adulation overtook him, like a perfect moment in the making of a perfect life, he sprinted through the cobbled pathways, bellow the archways, past the markets and the Stadtpark. The burning sun was a line of fire hazily seen upon the fine line of the horizon.

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Monday, 10 November 2014

The Ant Colony- Copyright Robert Fullarton 2013

Copyright Robert Fullarton 2013....Taken from Our Lives as Fiction

The Ant colony



In the wide unfolding city of ants, a great contingency of ants, march
in their monotonous beat or tempo of progress, that come forward in
single lines, but these lines extend for miles off the beaten track
and extend backwards to the start of the trail that begins at each
entrance to the ant metropolis itself. This is the finest semblance of
civilisation itself, for these ants are a credit to all living
organisms, with their powers of organisation, their capacity to work
and their power of force and numbers and that is where their great
agility, power and abilities in conquest derive from. Their sheer
numbers have amounted to their overwhelming force in this great and
over populated district of the jungle. The fierce red ants themselves
are an exception to the rules here in the jungle, as most creatures
here concern themselves with the dumb base instincts of mating and
territorial disputes, these ants however concern themselves with the
questions of education, healthcare, science, mathematics and
literature written by the finest Antellian scholars, yes indeed these
ants have made themselves into philosophers of the tree top canopy and
they themselves have wondered where indeed all life has come from and
they have concluded that all life emerges from a tree top canopy or
perhaps from the buds, shoots and sprouts of the great towering
castles of the jungle where the giants dwell and the howling monsters
run and jump in their great games of noisy gestation and excitement.
But primarily these ants are warriors, who have rooted out and killed
every other ant from each ant colony within the local districts, these
creatures have an extraordinary ability to think and strategise before
each battle with the neighbouring spider clans of the brush, who were
eradicated last week in another infamous battle in the neighbouring
hinterlands that surround the colony and its conquests.

The colony has grown in recent years from a small relatively short few
of only a couple million, it has rapidly expanded in size, width and
breadth and its populous has grown to the bulging size of 7 billion
inhabitants which is even too much for the colony to house. The
antellian proliferation in both arms and technology has grown these
recent days, and has helped the ants to conquer every disgusting
insect and bug, and even the old primordial enemies like the deadly
mantis have been overcome by the use of the Antellian new found
armoury and weaponry that has built the empire which I speak of.
But since the ant population has trebled in the past fifty years, it
did certainly have a negative effect on the morale, the very cognition
and the freedom of certain ants and some ants have been categorized as
the “lower” brown ants and others have been dubbed the “higher” red
ants of society and this great divide in Antellian society has gone
unnoticed for the past thirty years as the vassals, the subjects and
the servant brown ants have yielded and succumbed to the power and the
control of the minority of red ants that allude and refer their own
names, their carers and fame to assert and exert their power and their
authority onto the slavishly driven backs of the lower masses. Day
after day the brown ant went about his daily business working, living
and dying for the needs of the privileged minority and these typical
protégées of suffering and slavery, had never realised, had never
known, nor thought, nor tasted the idea of freedom from their masters
nor had they ever considered a coup d’etat or a revolution against the
very corrupting influence that had built their chains and categorized
them into being the “lower” ants of society.

Posterity had proven, that no true freedom could exist without a
radical revaluation of all Antellian society and that meant that the
“higher” red ant society had to be defeated and conquered by any means
necessary, so that the very colony itself could be saved from all the
waste that occurred within and throughout the entire area, and I will
explain this all in good time. Over fifty years ago, and this dates
back to the major second ant war, that commenced between two great red
ant warlords for the possession of the great chocolate chip cookie
that once lay completely idle at the furthest boundaries of the
northern gate of the colony and this war was a waste and a colossal
failure for the aspirations of the honest humble ant that wanted to
live, work and dream his life away in a jovial state of freedom, but
unfortunately the cunning and conniving red ants of the colony had
started up the rumour that the cookie had to be fought for and that it
was the pride, the joy and the very thing that every ant needed and of
course the ruling reds stated that they would give a certain portion
of the great bountiful cookie to every ant  but of course not a single
crumb was given and what happened in reality was far from the truth.
No single brown ant was destined for even a half a crumb of cookie,
but the cookie was divided between the warring factions and dividing
sects of the colony and of course given to the ruling red class that
devoured the final remnants of the cookie and grew fatter and fatter
as time wore on.

Out of this frivolous exploit of the working class there came the
numbers and the figures, the facts and the truth that in fact over two
hundred million brown ants had given their lives for nothing, for no
dreams, nor promises and certainly no cookie was given or even offered
to the honest hard working brown ant that toiled through the many
layers and tunnels of each colony district to expand tunnels, collect
food, scout new territories, fight in new found conquests against the
neighbouring aphids and of course pay their respect, their homage,
fealty and loyalty to their overlords and their masters.
Immediately after the great second ant war, there came about an age
old revolution that changed everything, like never before, the old
line of queens that stretched back to the infancy of the colony, back
to the primordial days of black ant times, had been broken and this
was a new found change in ant evolution, for ants had never gone this
far from their own anatomy and nature before, for this was the
topsy-turvey change, the imbalance and the great alteration that was
brought about by the rumours, the gossip and the corrupting lies of
the ruling red classes. A secret council of red ants had decided over
many meetings that the old queen had to go, for her authority had
slipped, and her voice was no longer as strong and powerful as it had
once been throughout every corner of the colony. So of course they
delegated the task of the revolution and general revolt to the poor
abused brown ant masses. The rumours were spread by every ant
reporter, every ant press and paper and even the Antellian rulers and
local oligarchic chieftains stated that the queen herself was guilty
of every crime of war, every seditious act against the general “lower”
ant and that she was guilty of the very murderous sum of casualties
and losses met for the last second great ant war and that her power
was no longer needed, for Ant no longer needed royal authority, for he
was beyond it, he had evolved into being a rational ant, from a grub,
to a black ant, to a brown ant and then unto the glorious red ant
itself. One day when timing was in accord to the tastes of the ruling
red class, the brown ants of the watermelon mines went on strike and
they refused to collect, to work and store any more plunder for the
needs of the queen, her family, the royal council and the nobility
themselves. The sheer number and force of ants the world over was a
colossal statement that the power of the “ordinary” ant great exceeded
and triumphed over the greedy, gluttons and cunning ruling red class
and for a day the typical underprivileged, disenfranchised ant stood
ready to inherit what should have been his, and that was namely the
power to create a real government for the people, a real society for
the people, real institutions for an egalitarian society, with real
proper “brown” ant role models and a proper morally ant like lifestyle
for all ant brothers and sisters to embrace. But unfortunately the
lies flooded every corner and inch of the colony like wildfire from
the powerful mini-printing presses of the red ants –for the red ants
held all the positions of power, media, control and every part of the
Antellian social output, owned and ruled all the food store houses and
they lived in their own ant mansions and boroughs- and the revolution
went too far too quickly, for the great dome of the queen’s mountain
was stormed at the centre of the colony, her educators, advisers,
relatives, nobles and distant relatives were slaughtered as a tide of
ant columns rushed forward in masses from all divulging sides and
boundaries of the colony map and this revolution resulted in the
eventual ritual murder of the queen herself, after her trial had
ceased. After the revolution had ended, when the tired, gasping
efforts of the hungry brown ant had brought him to war and after he
left his bloody weaponry aside, only then did the new rulers emerge,
the very red socialites that urged, enticed and emphasised this great
unnatural rebellion to force.

These men emerged, offered new, great
living conditions and living standards for the ordinary common ant and
these men were nothing near what the hungry brown hearts of the
ordinary ant had bled for, these rulers were red blooded, red skinned,
red ants and they had tricked the brown ants into doing their own
dirty work for them. Of course no real immediate change commenced, but
a void, a natural void grew in the old social order and in the hearts
of the great brown masses who went without the natural order of their
queen and her advisers. The old rule of the queen was over, that
ancient natural dynasty that was reflected in the order of both bee
and wasp species alike had now finally bowed out and completely
floundered in the face of the rise of the “new” reds and now this was
the age of the super-reds and I will get to this in a minute on the
history of Antellian life itself.

Great ant economists, businessmen, traders, inventors, scientists,
industrialists and affluent ants all from well established backgrounds
and establishments came forward to influence both the ruling reds and
the subordinate browns to promote and endorse a new found order, that
helped to drill, to drain and evaporate all the minerals, natural
elements and rich nutrients from every inch of soil and every nook and
cranny of the colony itself. Ants became industrialists for the first
time, and with the new found alchemy of these scientist ants there
emerged the great businesses that thrived and ran on the backs of the
brown worker ants and the great mineral findings from the earth.
Ants developed machines, fashioned, enflamed, developed and
transformed their basic primeval tools and gadgets into complex
machines that went far beyond the minds of their bronze and silver
mixing forefathers. These machines and gadgets were a prized asset to
the appetites of the new growing elite class of reds that grew fatter
and fatter, bigger and broader from all the plant matter, the
watermelon the food and forage they were paid by every ant in exchange
for their devices, machines and gadgets. These ants prospered off the
truly unknown secret of modern times and that was peacetime ant
society and in peacetime ant society, the ordinary ants themselves had
found themselves bored, confused and yet again muddled, controlled and
manipulated by their “rulers” who had profiteered off the earnings and
wages of the brown working class, by selling and promoting a new and
entirely frivolous and stupid way of life, according to their own
wants. Out of this era there came the birth of the super-reds or the
perfect ego’s or the ant role model brigade, as they were collectively
known by all avenues of ant society and by the press of the reds
themselves. These new role models thought that the success, the power,
the status, the life and the wealth of the reds was indeed what all
ants in general should aspire and amount to and that these icons were
the perfect semblance of ant happiness and freedom, and these
super-reds which endorsed, backed and worshipped the products, the
gadgets and the lifestyles of the new elite industrialists,
scientists, businessmen and rulers. These ants were promoted by the
eyes and mouth of the state for the ordinary browns to worship and
aspire to, their images were up to be displayed on the walls of every
ant home, they were promoted in the aerodome brainwashing facilities
that were created as a new “form” of entertainment by the ruling
masses for the “lower” class and of course, these facilities and
centres were believed by the modern, supposedly “super browns” to be
the greatest form of pleasure available to the modern, “civilised”,
rationalised, educated, enlightened ant alive in this apparent antopia
of inventions and accumulation. The reds had as subtle as ever,
seized, or more rightly been given the vast accumulation and control
of the colonies supply of plant matter, food, forage, iron ore,
minerals, the very elements and the very machines, products and
gadgets which the masses all purchased, worked to own and aspired for
and this little ruse of an idea was developed by the ruling class
themselves and this had been developed, forged and stated so that the
browns, apparently could evolve at a more rapid rate, so that they
could become like their idols the super-reds and then the class of
super-reds would expand and the gap or boundary between the starving
underprivileged browns and the ultra rich, mansion owning, self
proclaiming demi-gods of the super-reds society that expanded,
deepened and grew each year and decade that “modern” life exhausted
itself out.

                                                                   II

I am the hidden, the secretive and the anonymous ant that writes this
secret, parabolic history of the world, and I write this all, with the
intent to inspire the old flames of inspired individualism, freedom,
hunger for truth and emancipation to the power of the browns, by whose
blood am I born and whose spirit I inhabit and have inherited through
my own blood convictions, spiritual idealism and general capacity to
write. I write on the ideal future, which is a prophecy to the browns
that shall inherit the earth and shall overthrow the reds at the final
battle that will commence, all in due course and at the right time and
place in both history and world affairs, for all that done, learnt,
lost and exposed is done chronologically when all Ant alike can learn
an epic lesson, make the bold and brave jump forward and can
conceptually visualize and realize the truths and the freedoms at our
own general disposal, these irrevocable changes shall come within
every age and every change of Antellian society.
 I write boldly in my secret position on the map and I keep these
notes to myself so that I shall reveal these words and thoughts all in
due time, at the right moment itself.

Anyway, as I was saying in this written account of mine, which is a
valuable lesson to any estranged witness that comes across our
intelligent race of ants in the universe of unintelligent and
seemingly organic insects. The very hope and the very life giving,
life preserving colony that we have belonged to, have been born into
and have been part of since the dawn of time, is coming to ruin
through the exploits and the machines of the ruling reds and the
“super-reds” and this has happened after the constant burning, mining,
digging, and destruction of our own resources throughout our own
colony.

There are now holes and cracks within the very outer layers of
our colony and with the way things continue, these formerly secure
walls and layers are beginning to crack and dissolve slowly and at the
rate things are going the rain from the great summer floods will come
and wash us away. This cataclysmic, apocalyptic threat that we face
from the rain, with the distinct possibility for our own extinction as
a species has been brought forth by the ruling class, so that they can
expand their own power in a time of antillian crisis, the ruling class
has often exaggerated certain reports that if the walls collapse any
further, then the giant army of killer moths that lives beyond the
upper outlets of our colony dome, will come rushing forward to eat us
all into extinction. But alas I know this is all a terrible lie
perpetrated, spread and told by the ruling class, who have sold a
fortune on moth repellent bombs, anti-mothellian weaponry and
gadgetry. Similarly the press released a recent report that stated
that the holes made in the colony layers would create a burning solar
flare or spot from the great burning eye and that this heat would heat
the colony itself to such a rapid increase in temperature that the
very colony itself would go up in flames, from the burning surfaces in
the colony.

Of course such hoaxes could be naturally disproved since
we have actually had a great decrease in the general temperature of
the colony and have had no need for the mass produced, mass endorsed
Antillian fire-extinguishers that have been sold in masses on the
markets.

It is true to state that we have come too far from our nature, our own
ant like inheritance in life, we have betrayed our creator, our
natural order and our simplistic, but intuitive and explorative way of
life, for a new lust for power, accumulation and control of the
resources and now finally we are told that we have played a part in
the destruction of our own colony! I state that we should stop hunting
out, conquering and killing our neighbouring creatures, we should show
respect and reserve for them and we must work with what we have, stop
conquering and stop exploring new further distant lands and
territories, for our problems lie in the ruling class and has always
been with the ruling class and it will take the working subordinate
browns, to make the change and to overthrow the power of the reds.
How I wish we could think and have the knowledge, the appreciation,
the wisdom for nature, the belief in the extra-ordinary and powers and
abilities of our forefathers of antiquity who once had the ability to
make everything out of wood, stone and simple naturally based tools,
they lived, they thought and worked for freedom, even if they weren’t
as free as they should have been or wanted to be, but at least they
used, conserved, reserved, preserved, stored, naturally produced,
cultivated and recycled all that was given them by their own known
source at the dawning of each dawning day.

Nowadays we have wasted everything, learnt nothing on the conservation
and preservation of things that our once naturally and
agriculturally-industrious forefathers had knowledge of, practised and
lived by way before our own generation had come to pass! We have
become reliant on our gadgets, our precious metals, materials, our
minerals, our possessions, or machines, our precious beloved ant
technology and of course our “beloved” rulers whom we seem to be bound
to no matter what. We have forgotten the art of freethinking for
ourselves and we have only seen ourselves to be a wart or blemish in
the preciously beautiful face of Antillian society, when in fact we do
not belong to nay face of society, but are our own separate face for
our own separate constitution, constellation, antopian life. Live life
as good individuals, in the truth of a good, natural life, don’t
follow or absorb the ideas of false role models and self proclaimed
gods, for there lies a terrible flaw in the life of those that
practice such a life, for makes the corrupt more powerful and leaves
the underprivileged in a worse position that ever before.



                                                              III


I have to conclude that I maybe a single ant in the great collective
energy of the hoard and I am the first of my kind, to see and think
differently than my contemporaries, my peers and rivals, and so it
labels me as an enemy of life itself, perceives me to be odd, deranged
and probably even a disturbed little ant, but what do I care, for any
ant that chooses his destiny, must abide by it, love it, nurture it,
show fidelity towards it and revolve around it, so to drink the high
wisdom and the freedom of the ant firmaments and heavens.

I have concluded on my own at the end of this historical, political
treatise, polemical strike on society, through reasonable resources of
the ant intellect, not through the quantifiable methods of
mathematics, nor contemporary philosophy, the downfall and the
eventual change or eventual revolution or “final revolution” as I call
it, that will defeat and destroy the age old rule of the current
ruling red class and it shall set up and establish the long awaited,
fully misunderstood, newfound powers of the brown ant civilisation,
that shall abide by peace and shall co-exist in unison with all nature
and all life itself, in a spirit of brotherhood support.

One day, perhaps very soon, in our own world we shall see the rise of
more independent, individual ants, whose concern is not solely and
entirely based around the powerful and persuasive means of Antillian
gadgetry and materialism. Some may say that one day soon, perhaps too
soon our fate may be sealed in the destructive force of the insatiable
ant eater that dwells somewhere out there in the far beyond- whom we
have been lucky not to meet so far- and some might state that our fate
as a society might be sealed in the natural, ecological destruction of
the outer layers of our colony dome and such destruction would bring
immanent flooding which might finish us all off. Perhaps, a series of
natural disasters shall culminate and fulminate through time and many
may perish from the exploits, mistakes and wrongs committed by the
rulers of this colony, but I believe that rulers shall seize more and
more of the colonies resources, plant matter, materials, valuable life
sustaining resources for themselves and shall become more despotic,
more daring in their subtle plans for control and certainly more
devious as time passes so that they can fool the masses into giving
them whatever they want. But a battle for survival may come, that will
see the masses turning on their selfish overlords and they will want
their share of food, materials, life, emancipation, freedom and truth,
which they all deserve and it is only a matter of time before the
browns realize that they have been the subjects of a grand and epic
mockery, a jest or trick that has been played against them for too
long.

At a time of great upheaval, the browns will work together in order to
survive as a race against extinction and they will work and team
together, discover their own capabilities, work as naturally like
their forefathers once did, and they will seize and demand the power,
the food and action that they want to save their own colony and their
own dignity and integrity before it is too late. They smash the
machines, destroy the false idols and false role models and they will
topple the old cemented statue of their enemies age old power and they
will rule the colony for themselves, they will think for themselves
and do the impossible, what their forefathers only dreamt of doing.
The browns have the mind to do the seemingly impossible and it is only
a matter of time before they destroy their age-old oppressors, yes, it
is only a matter of time.

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Saturday, 2 August 2014

The Dreamer's Odyssey Part 2 -Copyright Robert Fullarton 2008

 The Dreamer's Odyssey Part 2 -Copyright Robert Fullarton 2008



VII

“Oh Lord please help me, please God”, I cried out in the adrenaline of fear that I felt.
To my absolute amazement I looked around to realize that I was wake again and back fully conscious again in my attic bedroom. My whole body dripped with sweat, and my heart pounded in a severe state of palpation. I caught my breath and tried hard to relax my nervousness. I looked at the wooden bedroom door and I could see nothing surprising about it, “looks normal to me”, I thought to myself. By now it was half seven in the morning and the sunlight shone right through the gap in the curtain so I decide to go and get myself tied up and groomed and fully dressed for work. But first I went and had a cold shower, cold enough to wake myself up, and get to grips with the reality around me.
As stood in the shower, facing the water and washing off the shampoo from my scalp, I began to think about all that had happened to me and the adventure that I undertook.

The dreams were so creative and so lifelike, and I wondered if Benson was meant to represent my ultimate enemy or evil itself, I shook my head in anguish at thinking on the very thoughts again. Maybe it was all in accordance with fate, but whatever it was it was gone and that was that. I spent the rest of the morning concentrating on getting myself in on time for work, so switched off on the subject and went out the door an off to work.

I had worked five years for a solicitor’s firm, dealing with civil litigation, drafting and filing for clients with civil action and I also dealt part time on many occasions with equitable issues on land purchases and conveyances for an estate agent. The solicitor I worked for hired a team of employees to deal with over two dozen clients on an active weekly basis. I was not on friendly terms with anyone on the job, I was never invited to any of the social activities or even the Christmas party, and my boss I felt took advantage of me, often getting me to fill in for staff members, working as late as half nine in the night. I basically found the work exhausted and the pay never compensated for the extra work. So I asked myself, why did I bother with them why didn’t I resign I had been asking my self that very question for a very long time. My work colleagues were sarcastic, cynical and tightly knit in their social grouping. As I worked in my office streaming through a folder of files my boss approached me, “Hey Michael I thought you were finished on Mr. Keller’s copy on the Notice of Motion”,
“No sir, almost done though, and by the way I’m Matthew, not Michael, sir!”
“Oh sorry I forgot, anyway finish up pronto otherwise you’ll have to work overtime tonight.” How could he forget my name again! Either he suffered from some form of amnesia or he was just plain ignorant, I think the later was more realistic.
                                                                                   That afternoon as I sat at my desk in my office on my lunch break, I began to contemplate on my future and the way things would go if I didn’t drastically do something major to change things and avert myself from going mad. In hindsight I realized that the adventure was fun and that it was beyond doubt and skepticism to question anymore the truth that it was my fate, it was realistic so realistic that I decided as soon as I return I am going back in there and I’m going to face whatever terror I have to face. I was single with no attachments, my family was all dead and I was almost bankrupt having wasted all my money on stocks and shares so I had nothing to lose.
                       That night I lay in the bed, my motivation and encouragement were stronger than ever. I took a sleeping tablet to help me fall into a deep, deep sleep, and I lay there half awake and half asleep at half past ten.
                                                                  
                                                                 VIII

Almost as quick as lightning, my eyes beheld the door once more, and now it felt as though I were floating towards the door, its beckoning light grabbed me in like an invisible tractor beam, then it opened as if by magic and a blinding white light overwhelmed my sight. When my sight returned a minute later, I beheld the splendor of the world locked inside my dreams its symbolic meaning and hidden purpose stood tall within the objective I sought to conquer. I walked down the plateau of purple mountains, behold the lighthouse was radiating light all through the four corners of the world like never before, almost as though it were a shadow beforehand.
                                                                                               Briskly I walked in admiration through the gorgeous hilltops, valleys and woodland before I found my path divulging onto the main street of the township and I still had no name to call it. I walked through the Bavarian style township and to my great surprise found the townspeople,, knights and dwarfs and all the strange peoples themselves cheering and applauding my arrival, they literally stopped still in their work and smiled with beams of gold to my mere presence. If only the conscious world could have more damn friendly and polite people like these ones. I could see strangely enough that the township was larger than I realized with dozens of main squares and side streets extending all around. After awhile, I thought “that’s enough sight seeing” and I ventured back to the main square. I nodded and smiled in respect to those who waved and greeted me, which was virtually everyone.
I felt elevated in the trust of these people even if they were all an illusion of some kind from my imagination.
                                 

Then I was tapped ever so gently upon my right shoulder at the main square’s fountain, as I turned around I need not have guessed to find my Grandmother standing there  in glorious white again smiling and laughing in merriment.
“Matthew I am glad you came back again, I wish you had never and gone back to that world! However you were over come with fear and doubt and you lost control that’s why the lighthouse light faded, you’re understanding completely vanished in an instant.
Now you know what you must do, remember that you’re armor is symbolic love of the love that defines and charters the quest itself and defines you’re true heart’s desire. Bravery is the weapon you need against you’re ultimate foe, courage is symbolic of the sword you lost, and you fled when you lost it.
“I know now what I must do and if I by some miraculous chance reach the summit of those mountains and go through the castle gate, there I hope to face the power that can turn back time and reveal the extraordinary, the supernatural and the unimaginable, for you say the castle is symbolic of Hope and my greatest desire.”

“Yes, but what you will face no living mortal man or woman has come back to tell except those beyond death itself. When you return, I will be you’re guardian in the conscious life on earth and the hereafter, when we will all live in the ultimate grandeur of our dreams.
God speed Matthew.” I waved goodbye slightly saddened by her departure yet again, she vanished from my sight before I could call her back.
                                                                                 In the corner of my eye, Holden, approached me, wrapped up in his huge brown coat smoking his pipe, he winked again at me and carried forth yet again a coat of armor with a fine steel sword and a shield with a black griffin engraved on it, reminded of something from old East Prussia.

“Here lad, take you’re armor and everything you need, I found it all dumped in the river outside the forest adjacent to the black tower. I made you a brand new sword from our local smith, made especially for you in you’re honour sir. Here, it’s made from the finest steel. “Thank you sir, you are indeed truly noble and you’re kindness extends beyond all measures.” “Stop, trying to flatter me with words”, he jested, “now come on sir you can’t face a monster of the past in you’re pyjamas, go into the stable and get changed and ready to fight, by the way here is you’re horse.” “No, of course not sir that would be stupid”, I remarked rudely. He pointed me to a handsome pale white stallion that lay tethered in the stables. “He’s tamed and all, and he is as fast as Halley’s Comet and you will reach the tower in no time”. I named the horse Eric after my father strangely enough; however I then decided to call him moonbeam because of his speed and his pale complexion.
                                                                                                                                 I rode out for my confrontation and said farewell to Holden, all the knights and the seven dwarfs of course as well. I felt like King Arthur after uncovering Excalibur and as if I were to duel with Mordred himself. The horse galloped full speed through the forest gathering a whirlwind of dust behind my long and narrow trail. The birds of the forest treetops all circulated high above my sky and my white silver armour bore a glowing sheen of light and it glowed as if by magic while I rode in glory towards the accursed tower itself.
                                                                                                                                  Suddenly though as if were hit by and invisible arrow my sense convulsed in a horrid spasm and my body seized up, pain and fear cause an immense pain that throbbed at my temples. Then my horse neighed and shook and before I new it I was flung off the horse and into a side ditch. “aaaaagh”, I cried in anger and pain, my right knee was bleeding and my forehead cut with several minor wounds.

I did not suffer internal wounds, so I limped out of the ditch forcing my body weight up, I sat on the road and I ripped the satchel emptying its contents and I wrapped it around my right knee tightly at the gap in my armor, and I decided once again to seize the initiative and I strolled forward to the haunting tower that glared to me in my hazy maddening sight. I abandoned the horse and the anchor for I felt there was no use for neither at this point. I leaped across the trench of the tower’s moat and with a shred of confidence and valiant courage within me I kicked the door in with all my energy. Forward it went the weak wooden door down on the floor and I went up the spiraling staircase to proceed to the council room at the very top and face him. As I walked up the twisting staircases, everything was silent, too silent; the only thing I could hear was the sound of my armor tapping against the stairs as I climbed them cautiously. I was not too hasty or foolish, I did not rush in but I simply found myself prepared and ready for the conflict with Benson. My mind was in a mantra of repetitive thinking to remind myself why I did what I did, and the love that I had within me could surely conquer anything he conjured from his ghoulish presence.
                                 
I turned the cold handle to open the attic door, and yet again a fire was blazing in a black fireplace in the right hand corner of the room parallel to the door, everything was black in the room even the books on the bookshelf were black. I looked around the room gazing half scared to find Benson but he lay no where in sight.

Then I looked and saw a large golden treasure trove, underneath the book shelf to my left near the very top stained glass window. Then I turned around and saw him in horror he stood at the doorway not laughing but with a cruel menacing scowl upon his face, he carried a large axe in his hand and he wore his gigantic black iron suit of metal, his bloodshot eyes immediately pierced my fear. Then I realized in a miraculous turn of events what Holden’s riddle, meant.

“What is the adversary of fortitude and the only thing truly worth fearing?”
“fear!” I shouted aloud to myself. Benson was not the symbol of evil or my ultimate enemy, he was the symbol of my fear, a terrible adversary in its own way and the nature of the battle fought was of courage against fear. Then I thought again to myself, even though he was now pacing forward very slowly towards me. “What do all bullies have in common”, I thought to myself, “they are all insecure false beings, cowards within themselves who prey on other people for their warped ideals of pleasure.” Benson was an illusion of the past and I had to silence the problems of my past once and for all.
                                                                                                                              He swung his axe almost hitting me on the armor near the shoulder; I turned with all speed and twisted past him to the right of the room. I could find no trace of fear within my heart I felt the master over him, a mere mouse in comparison with what I thought of him before.
I drove the sword through this heart as fast as a flash of lightening, screaming in determination, I struck  hard against his armor of mighty oak, toppling him over, and out the stained glass window where he plummet and crashed on the ground beneath the tower with a mighty roar emitting from his horrid mouth. Blood and glass were left in his trail in the room above.

                                              IX

As I left the tower feeling high and mighty with the key from the treasure trove securely in my palm, I watched in awe as the tower transformed from its sullen and morbid black bricked structure to a pale, ghostly white colour as if it had died. I climbed up on the saddle of the horse and he road post haste back through the woodlands and out to the centre of the town. As I arrived everyone hailed me and congratulated me in my hour of victory, three dwarfs at the edge of the forest unveiled a large marble monument of me in my honour. On it I wore my armor and was holding my sword up high, this was a special prestige upon their behalf. The townspeople emptied out of each of their houses and shops and they littered the streets displaying markets and stall of food and drink, with all kinds of delicious delicacies from sweet to sour all unbelievably my favorite dishes.

The Bavarian houses were decorated with woven linen and flax reeling across the roofs of every house. “You set us free sir from that Dark lord and his tower it haunted us too, it didn’t take long for all the people to sculpt a great statute of you,”
whispered a knight into my ear, standing in his shining white armor, smiling at me.
“I’m thrilled with it, thank you very much, but I have to admit I don’t even know any of you!”
“Sir”, replied a dwarf to me “we’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
After I had indulged in the merry celebrations and feasted on the fine food and drink from the market stalls,
             I wandered off back up to the huge limestone carved fountain and away from the growing crowds. I sat down and watched Mr. Holden sit down beside me on the edge of the fountain. “It was a prophetic vision of mine that you would return in victory and that I would find you here”, he said saluting me with a friendly handshake and a cordial, deeply felt huge around my waist. “After all you have seen, don’t you now possess the confidence and the happiness and the strength to return to you’re fully conscious world?”

“No, sir, I’m not going back, I returned only to pursue my deepest desire, to travel back in time and save my family and my self, back to my childhood and I will face he who lives in the castle and present my case with all I have got”, I spoke in a rather annoyed tone of voice. “Well, Matthew I see you are willing to go the whole way, and if so, you will need me to draw you up a map to get to the mountain ranges in the sky let alone to the castle. The secret lies in the power of the lighthouse. Don’t worry the journey looks and sounds much more difficult than it actually is.”
“Edward what exactly is the name of this land and world?”
“Why, what do you want to call it for it is after all your own sub conscious world!”
I pondered for a few minutes upon his proposal and I simply dubbed it, Utopia, as my ideal place of happiness after heaven itself.”
“Very, good sir, I’m sure with that kind of originality you’ll want to be a writer”, he said scarcastically but in a jovial and harmless way. I changed out of my armor and back into my pajamas. I stabled the horse and said goodbye to as many of the townspeople as I could and of course gave my sweet farewell to the enigmatic, but comically charming Mr. Holden himself, “Good bye, Mr. Holden, see you in my sub consciousness some time soon”, I jested while reminiscing of all he had told me during my adventure.
“God speed Matthew, may you’re hearts greatest dream be granted and whatever strength that you possess you will need entirely for what you face ahead.”
As I walked down the avenues of the cobbled brown streets the townspeople waved and saluted to me, blowing heavy brass trumpets, bugles and horns, I laughed in a simple whimsical joke at the bearded dwarfs, the knights in their silver armor and the townswomen, the beautiful damsels from the memories of my childhood dreams and fairytales.
             I set forth to the magnanimous lighthouse and its descending beam and the dream left a haunting crescendo of the calling of the birds which warbled in farewell as I walked in meek admiration through the tunnels of the forests and out onto a dusty path through the golden orchards which stretch their wooden fingers to the white tower itself, where all my understanding blossomed and I was beckoned from its attraction. The Golden torch lit the path so dazzlingly before, and the valleys behind it were mere shadows of a distant dream, places that I had not been upon my journey.

The door of the lighthouse lay ominously and mysteriously open and I proceeded up the seemingly never ending stairs, then as I was instructed by Holden, I climbed out the top window and I scrabbled up on top of the roof itself. I got the impression and the understanding that there was no lighthouse keeper because I was the lighthouse keeper himself and this represented my insight within myself, my understanding and now within my sight so near and yet so far I saw the mountain ranges in the sky, they look impassable and unconquerable to the weak minded man, but to the visionary who had composed his own fantasy reality this was the penultimate challenge for me to face, however I simply followed the expressed instructions Holden gave me. I focused clearly upon the rays of light that shone unto the sky and beyond, I cleared my head disrupting and destroying all inferior thought to that of which I tried to focus on. I stepped forward expecting to fall but instead I leap across a silver beam condensed within my mind, for it was my world after all and now I spent half an hour trekking forth and onwards across the silver light, then I shouted out in joy as I jumped across the gulf of the sky and I landed as if I were participating in my school long jump, with my feet and arms outstretched in victory.

                                                                  X
Through the dogged terrain of the sweeping mountain paths, I climbed up grueling stone after stone, I watched in the distance to see thousands of distinctively small sheep grazing upon the valleys below and a wind grew fierce as it blew opposed to my desire to reach the top, however it stopped silent as my mind was more focused than ever, so I crept like the mountain cougar over the cut throat crags and rocks for at least an hour, until the maiden castle lay within my sight. The land was barren all around, decimated and plunder of all its value as not a lone flower nor blade of grass were found but mile upon mile of bog as far as the naked eye could behold. The castle was magnificent, anything else it seemed to be mixture of a medieval gothic structure and the symmetry of that from ancient Luxor. It was white like crystal, ghostly white built solidly on each level with seven pillars supporting each floor, on the side of each corner a large white Corinthian styled columns jutted out and to the entrance of the front gate there were dozens of little steps that had flaming torches blazing at either side of the tiny steps. In true definition it could in mortal contrast be compared to the throne of God himself for in mysterious and mystical quality and the sheer ambiguity of the building itself and how it was made left me in awe. At the front door I was surprised to see it already open and vacant as I could see no one inside. Was I expected? It would seem so.

I strolled into a room it was pitch black, I could not see anything, I tried to turn back to the door but I could find it, and now a the dread of death was tingling down my spine and eating away upon my morbid emotion. I waited for something to occur and it did. The ground shook I could not feel anything or hear anything, I lost the power of senses in an instantaneous force that reeled me in. My hearing returned and then I heard a howling wind in the back ground in the distance, but it grew more ferocious like a storm raging on the sea, it seemed to be heading in my direction, it grew louder to the point of deafening and it was right beside me roaring like a wild animal. “Mom,”
I shouted out, “father!”

I shouted continuously as a thousand memories whirled past me, then suddenly I saw in all its sheer glory greater than anything before, a massive explosion with a ring of yellow that spun in perpetual motion and the flame of fire within it contained a glittering patchwork that sparkled and shone greater than the sun itself and the stars, it spoke and called to me within my senses, like a higher form of communication’ A placid feeling filled me like a clam day beside the sea and the tide lashes peacefully against the shore.
It flashed and flashed on and off, and the colours exploded all in eruption at once and then it stopped suddenly.
                                      “Ahh, lord God, oh lord help me”, I shouted out, and I looked around, I felt strange like I had come out of a coma, my body felt completely different my voice was not deep but rather high pitched, my muscles were week and I was bamboozled as I noticed that I was not in the pokey old attic room in my house but in my old bedroom as a child, with Mickey mouse wallpaper and I was wearing my old pink elephant pajamas. Yes, I realized I had jumped the gulf of time and come forth from the cocoon of time travel to emerge back where I belong. I was a ten year old boy again; my hands were small and my mind imaginative. Then to my surprise I saw my mother for the first time in years, her face glowed with her compassion, she was young with her hair so soft and her skin so smooth.
“Hey are you alright Matt”, she said with a hint of concern in her voice, “I am alright now mom, I was lost in a very deep sleep and finally I’m awake again, it feels like I’ve been gone for a long time and now I’m finally home.”
“No you haven’t, you’ve just been sleeping and it seems that way.
How about I go and stick on the television and we warm our cockles up to a lovely cup of hot chocolate.”
“Sounds good to me, mom as its now eight o’clock and it is Saturday, so alright.”
She beamed in response with a toothy grin of pure joy. As soon as she had left I immediately beheld to my surprise something I knew I would see again, it was gran and she was standing at my door, and she waved in response to my disbelieving eyes.
She was old again, and she looked tired and worn out from her back trouble, however she began to speak to me, “I bet you had some good dreams last night.”
“Good dreams gran, good,”
I responded happily. “Well why don’t you come down stairs and we’ll talk about it then,”
“sounds good gran, and by the way this time round things are going to be differently, I am going to make big changes, and we have to warn mom and dad not to fly on that particular day.”
“Don’t worry, at all because we’ll be one step ahead, because time itself has been rearranged for you, its like a parallel dimension except in am instant God himself can change the fabric of reality in a heartbeat when we don’t even notice.”

“Wow, that’s amazing”, I spluttered out not able to hold my contentment.
“That’s the best part of the world we are born into, is that there is are always dreams and hopes for the future they keep us alive and you’re dreams and hopes were strong indeed, many people will give up on these and many will never see the fruition of these dreams diverge into our realities. One day in a place far, far away from here, light years in time ahead you will return to the kingdom that you created and you will preside there as long as you desire.”
“Sounds so good I can’t believe it.”
“Anyway lets go down stairs and talk” she linked me by the arm and we strolled off down the stairs and out into the kitchen. Things had changed, thinks had indeed changed and I am writing this account twenty five years after my adventure thinking about embarking once again into the odyssey of my dreams.




                                        
                                                                      


                                                                                                   
                                                                                      


                                            

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