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Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn

Tuesday, September 3, 2013



BACKGROUND: Just anticipate a world where Writers were the only human species existing. And other creatures used to bequest them as per the calibre of entertainment in their cognitive content. Writers were addressed nothing less to Gods. Respecting and praising them. Writings were the major necessities for the endurance and in turn, the survival of all other mortal beings prevalent, no matter how big or small.

In this chronicle, I’m designating myself as Peter. So don’t question ‘Where am I in the story’ (which was a must, as per the prompt).


Knock! Knock!
Peter hits the door of a modernistically bejewelled mansion. Soon, a lovely young lady opens the door.
"Happy b'day Meera" greeted Peter.
"Oh! Thanks Pete. Come on, get in."
He started gazing at the vast dome shaped ceiling. He was mazed. The manor hall appeared somewhat bigger compared to the exteriors. But he ignored it for his muddiness, trying to be a part of those hundreds jollifying there.
“I’ll be back in a moment. Until then, enjoy the party.” said Meera and took her leave.

He looked all around, in search of a comrade face to spend the evening with. All had a dance partner to accompany them while Peter stood all alone in a corner. Unfortunately, he could find none but a beer counter to loosen him up.

Reaching the counter, he uttered, “Beer is the true companion of a mateless.”
“One regular please” he said to the bartender.
“Alone?” enquired a voice seated adjacent to his barstool.
“No actually, Meera…”
“Anyway, would you like to escort this old lady to the dance floor?”

The lady looked more like a demonic witch from an outdated Hollywood movie, but with no hesitation, he nodded his head “Of course, beautiful!”

Peter clutches her hand and pulls her along to the dance floor.

“So, you’re Meera’s friend.” exclaimed the lady as she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Yea. We’ve been knowing each other through the blogging world.”
“Hey waiter! Come here!”

She calls in the dining-room attendant serving a strange dish nearby. It was a combination of gelatinous, and the other somewhat resembling a creamy matter, which, at no cost, could be available in the area.

“Sorry, but I love them. You should really try these.” she said, filling both her hands with the ravishing new serve.
“What are these?” he asked, stepping his foot over the solely blue tile amongst infinite reds, on the dance floor.
“Don’t know! But I call them a ‘Cheesycued spareribs’.” She replies, ramming a piece into Peter’s mouth.

He seizes with teeth, the corner, to flavour it. Suddenly, a whirling aura generates around him and soon it verges into a vanishing point. A dazzle of light brighter than the sun’s rays gleams, and he was hapless in opening his eyes. As the intensity lowered with time, he slowly opens his eyes, winkling repeatedly. He found himself in the devastations and ruins of fortresses that seemed to be haunting there for over centuries. Getting out of the ruins, the surround was the first thing that spooked his sight. A major portion of the sky being coal-black and the remaining was ‘actually’ on fire! Everything was in flames, even the sky, the clouds, and the stars.

Of a sudden, Peter hears a sound calling his name and he learns he wasn’t solitary in this inexplicable repulsion of his life. Turning his neck around, he could see Meera, Bushra and Jack hastening towards him.

“How are you three? How did we land in here?” he asked.
“Even we have the same question. As soon as we opened our eyes, we found ourselves lingering here.” replied Jack.

They drove together all over in search of a clue that would get them back home, grovelling against the bucket along flaming winds. All of a sudden, two speedy somethings just passed past their face.

“HAHAHAHAHA! Why so serious, kiddos?” said a fierce faced old lady hovering in the air on a broom stick. She was none other than the lady whom Peter met at Meera’s party, dancing with her, all evening. Another was a vehement gremlin, on another broom, growling at them. He was a 1 ½ ft. dwarf, wearing a shabby outfit and his ‘vampiric teeth’ multiplying the devilish traits of his existence.

“What are you?” asked Peter in a stammering voice.

He slowly starts proceeding towards them. With every inch he moved, their heartbeats pumped up a decade. And why not, witches, gremlins, flying broomsticks, atmosphere composing more of fire rather than air itself, was something unusual, or should I say, totally unbelievable and heart wrenching, not only for them, but would be for any of us as well.

“What do you want? Where are we? Stay away!” says Jack crawling backwards.

The devil’s eyes catch Bushra’s, and empathises her grieve-embedded face. But ignoring it, he says, “I’m Kostchtchie and I’m gonna ingest you, you furious idiot.” taking out a dagger off its sheath attached to his waist, pointing towards Jack. Though the blade was not a larger one, but it had the luminance and sharpness of a Japanese Katana, that could dissever a body into halves within a fraction of a second.


The witch kicks the gremlin and goes forth the sight, yelling, “Stop playing with the invitees and take them to the Séance berth.”

The gremlin stumbles, but balances himself and orders them all to follow him. All of a sudden, Meera falls into unconsciousness. Peter, Jack and Bushra rush to her, swaying her, but of no use. Bushra requests the gremlin for his help and he agrees to awaken her up once they reach the terminus. Till then, he carries Meera on his broomstick.

“Now end your drama and follow me. And don’t endeavour any witty tricks or else you’ll lose your final breath to dumbness.”

They had no other option than to follow what he said because ever if they were successful in deceiving him, Meera was still with him and they couldn’t risk her life for the sake of escaping at the nature’s fate because breaking away wasn’t a guarantee of evading from that strange wizardry place.

After an hour long walk, they reached the verge of the mountain. At a side, was a small hutch and an odoriferous heap covered with black camlet.

“We won’t go any closer” exclaimed Peter in firm voice.
“Nor me either. Just look at that. God knows what’s gonna happen in there.” says Jack supporting Peter in what he said.
“As you wish. But this young girl is going with Me.” says the gremlin and continues his steps.

Peter gazes into the hut, leaning behind the wall and he blew out of the water after what he just saw. There was a huge, endless space under a 100sq. ft. shelter. He recalls the similar thing he experienced while entering Meera’s house and inferred that there was something really serious being cooked in there. “Meera’s house is bewitched” he said to himself.

Suddenly, his eyes went over a square tile coloured blue, similar to the one he stood at, at Meera’s place. And he realised it was the same place where her house was built years later.

“Your Pythoness, we’re back home” annunciates the gremlin to inform the witch of their arrival, via the ionosphere.

It was their last chance to escape and they couldn’t risk losing it. So they plan to convince that filthy little creature to help them out.

"Heyy Kotchatti! Let go, please" requested John.
"Kostchtchie!" the gremlin punched.
“That witch is so cruel to you, so unsympathetic. She hits you, hurts, and treats you like a slave. Why do you live like an abject slave of hers? Please help us to get out of this menace and you too come along with us.” pleads Bushra in a fragile voice.

“I wish to, but I’m incapacitated. She’s a Servitor. She has been magically created for a specific purpose and she cannot be killed, or even harmed, until and unless she has achieved her goal of existence. And when offended, life may be the forfeit!”
“Goal?” doubts Peter.

 “How dare you betray me? You disgusting small fry!” yells the witch coming from nowhere. She levitates the gremlin with her hand and throws him away.
“You’ll have to compensate for it now” stares the witch.

A blueish-white glare generates off her wand targeted towards Bushra. The gremlin pushes Bushra sideways and himself gets dishevelled by her magic spell. The spell was so powerful that the tiny creature chokes, stumbles and falls down the mountain.
Bushra cries out his name and bleeds towards the valley. The depression (valley) was at a never ending depth and nothing could be seen but the layer of fog overflowing it. A tear drops off her eyes.
Jack rushes towards the witch, gripping the dagger in his right arm firmly, in order to kill the witch. He moves the knife with great pace in order to not miss any chance. But before he could hit her, she started screaming and condensing, and ultimately turns to ashes, vanishing into the cruises of the dark airs.

“Finally it all ends” says Jack with a broad smile of sigh on his face and they all greet each other for the triumph against the witch.

“Not so soon, Jackie” comes in as a reply off an apparitional voice from behind them.

Turning around was so hard of a surprise that they couldn’t believe their eyes. It was Meera levitating in air with some unusual bubbles erupting all over her body. The very next moment, she ploughs out into Peter Pettigrew.
“Aww! What did you do to my bestie?” quested Bushra.
“Forget about her. It’s me, all that’s left now. It’s humanity at its verge.”

She then waves her wand and a wave of squall, uncovers the stinky heap and to their extreme stupor, a huge cumulus of corpses was dwelling underneath it.

“Meera! What did you do to them?” said Jack.
“Hey, I remember them. There are the bodies of the most renounced writers of the time” says Peter and continues, “But what did you have to do with them?”

“I’m the only awesome writer alive after them. And hence, all will be forced to do whatever I ask them to, if they intend to survive on my writings. And it’s you 3 the next and I’ll dominate this globe then!”
As soon as she said so, Jack snatches the gremlin’s knife from Peter and cast it pointing at Meera. But she alters and dodges it.
“I ain’t that easy to get, honey!”
She waves her wand and shifts the dagger to Jack and says, “Try again!”

Jack picks it up and moves his hand targeting towards her. The witch, with incantation, barricades him off. She starts rotating her wand towards her neck and manipulated Jack to follow her. But instead of the wand, it was the gremlin’s knife, in his case.

“No Meera! No!” outcries Peter and Bushra but the once-an-innocent-girl had gone uncontrollably out of their hands. She poked her wand into her throat, and unfortunately, so did Jack. The very next moment, the brave Jack’s body lay static on the ground, quieter than ever and they had lost a dear friend of theirs.

“Pitifully silly!” says Meera.

Coursing the remaining ones, she then uplifts them into the air with merely her optical drive and abruptly a cyclone of fire surrounds them.

“Goodbye besties. Goodbye Sweethearts. Rot in hell!!!”

All of a sudden, the cyclone starts contracting. Imagine a ‘multi-metre’ diameter fire wall swirling all around your body. Death was proceeding in front of their eyes, and they were clung helpless into the air on an invisible witchery claw propelling their parts, trying to get rid somehow. But nothing did much to them.

 
The firewall was just a few inches away, when suddenly the sounds of “Wake up, Meera. Happie Bdae dear.” were heard all over the dark burning sky.

Meera opened her eyes and saw Peter, Jack and Bushra surrounding her. She started wailing as she was just going to lose her friends-cum-protagonists, with her own hands, a moment back. She clinched them all and thanked for being there besides her unremittingly.

Discounting the notions of the puzzled ‘a Rat’ and unaware of what actually happened to her, they started b’day blasts (holding someone’s arms and legs at corners and throwing in air) and humiliating and bullying her. They all expressed mirth and guffawed to hell and Meera was lying there with her face veiled under the pillow.

----------                               ----------                               ----------                               ----------                               ----------                               ----------

So now I know why Meera likes rats so much and why her name is always followed by ‘Rat’ {Meera Rat, which preciously was ‘a Rat’}

[You should have told me when I first asked the logic behind the word ‘Rat’ in your name, Meera. It wouldn’t have happened then. :p]

HAHAHHAA

Jokes apart…I wholeheartedly wish Meera a dazzling b’day and may she have a marvellous life ahead. Happiest than ever and a wonderful writing career.
Good luck and stay blessed.

It’s a B’day gift to Meera. Being my first fictional attempt, I know it had a lot many pullaways, but I really enjoyed penning it and hope while reading it you enjoy even more than I did. Do share your thoughtful/ humorous/ bullying feedbacks….. :)


[PS. The word limit above this sentence is exactly 2222 words…..:p]