ANSELM and GRETA- Episode 65: The End Game


HE IS LIGHT, HE IS DARKNESS. We love him because he first loved us. Not everyone has a taste of human love, but through him, each of us did experience being well loved. We had know of the Joker for six months, and he had something slowly dripping, like a faucet or a well, that I must dig for myself. It is a rushing stream that flows from his heart into mine. So for me, it’s about trying to find something that’s different from the last. It hasn’t happen before, as Mercury and Jupiter trine, the Joker and I are lining up to create a portal of easy going communication and general goodwill. But I often offset anyone.
As some of the recent Saturn activity works cooperatively with the moon in industrious alley, whatever our family background or experiences in life, whereas we felt love from others or not, we did known love. Indeed, it’s a productive day. The action flies back rapidly.
We did drawn something from the Joker’s inexhaustible source of know-how’s, to know our loving care for the people who matters, that we could pass our pains to others. And for the most part, it is easy to get what you need if you just ask. He, had me to listen to a certain song to get somewhere emotionally. I think that I would be a great artist, because for me, music invokes very strong emotions. I feel like no matter what kind of mood you’re in, if you put on a certain song, it can change that mood and make you happier, sadder, or feel like you’re part of something bigger.
Music is very powerful to me.
“Free hugs of love from Graceland!” As we, the Tregger family, ventured into a new horizon on our lives… we decided to allot our decorum of time to render our warm embrace to those people who need a contemptible amount of unmitigated heed of affection in lieu of the World Hugs Day held every January 21. Here in Nashville, Tennessee’s Capitol Park, in front of the White Pantheon, I’m extremely determined… I really wanted to be an actor. Since I was about four years old, I know I was going to do everything it took to become an actor and I was not going to stop no matter how many times I was told no or how many times I did not get parts. I was always going to keep at it. That’s how I am with anything in my life whether in music, arts, theater or by just giving fake embrace to those gullible people on rear sight.
I just go for it full on and don’t stop until I get it. Growing up in this business of killing people… Greta had always asking me about missing a normal childhood. It’s all I know. It’s weird growing up and having to see your friends die and regenerate at the same time. Because I grew up with it. I’m used to it. And there they was; Keegan, Paul, Damian, Giesele, Wichita, my forever brother Jacob and the others who had been used by the Circus Maximus to be an agent of deliverance to awaken my inner Incubus through the Expression Spell’s Nineteen Sacrifices. I’ve already loosed track of the other Sacrifices’ who had lived and been awakened, but I know they meant well, notwithstanding, they already got their lives back, so am I, with another family. They don’t have anything against me; they don’t have anything to be angry about the Joker.
I will be forever grateful of the Nichol’s. They took me as their own, provided me with a comfortable house, dressed and fed me like a superstar. As much as I want to miss Jacob and Jeremias, I had to go to Menlo Park in San Francisco Bay Area with the Treggers, Danny and Belle Canto. Although I’m not alone in this foreign exposition, as my twin brother’s Tristan and Terrance will go with us, it is still feels like some people are still willing to slip on someone else’s dreams. And yet discouraging words could be exchanged, I’ll admit it, I’m still overwhelmed to think that I could possibly look like them, jealous of the fact that they are Eurasian and mixed blood. But the great wizard, David, who had changed my face with a spell binding act to protect me from Craig and his possible connection with the Circus Maximus… had been dead for a lot of years, has work habits to be erratic to some passers by. I am still doing my best that I could to stifle and piffle others to absolve my slipups and devising a proficient curb to afoot those friendships that may be a factor to my initiative’s euphoria. It was against all odds, as the antiquity of my fibs had been self indulgent, it had been a rakish distress that reposed an erudite dissimilitude between us, the Triplets.
Though I won’t give up with my twin brothers, as they say, there are four words better than I love you, it is… “I’ll stay forever.” Said the girl in red at the same time as my freakish thoughts recollects the way I said it to the former Hortaleza’s. “I’ll need a hug Anselm… don’t be so selfish.” Because I grew up with her, I always say she was my second parent. I had home videos with her, and I can’t forget that. So it’s kind of like over the years, she had a vided languor of pensiveness about me as I’m about to grow up. She’s kind of fumy, funny and wistful sister of mine. “Abe, of course you’ll always have a hug from me!”
I embraced her like it was an eternity had fallen. Since I last saw her, every inch of her had been atypical; from the color of her hair to the smell of her perfume. She embraced me back as same as the way I did. “I miss you so much, it’s like six months since the last time we had a… chat. What’s new about you?”
“My sharp, molar teeth’s.” I held her shoulders, without a shaggy dog story, nor pulling somebody’s leg, I thought how about how she lied when I was young… when everyone is screaming behind the dead cold-unfeeling body of Old Man Lanter, she was there, because I took that doll for her. It was a mistake to follow her, it was a mistake, she was a mistake… she is a mistake. She didn’t took any fully clad measure to defend me from the cops, as I took my time at the Welfare Center of Birmingham, Alabama for an hour… where I sat sitting beside a cannibal and a pedophile, I almost thought that I want to scream, but I’m afraid that they would hear my frustrations. It seems like six months had passed while barely sitting for mere sixty minutes. Though, she’s not just the only one to be blamed… because I stole two, poisonous, cursed dolls. One is made from plastic, and the other one is made from breakable muslin.
She held my shoulders… she’s a thunder, and she’s taller than me… which could be just, for a ballerina who part time as a model. “I have to go back to New York in a few weeks. Which would separate us by the two coasts, is there any way that I could do to persuade you to go with me in New York?”
I looked back at Belle; she’s hugging a filthy homeless guy near the footsteps of the Pantheon. “I found them already; I want to give this family a chance.”
Unusually, she gave me a pat in my left arm. “Good luck with that little man. Wherever you are, whenever you want to… you could always visit your sister in the Big Apple. You could always give me a call; you could always go home in New York. Although, if you don’t mind, what about your application in CUNY, your scholarship in music?”
“I’ve got accepted in University of California- Berkeley. I’m taking a Visual Arts course, maybe some minors in Theater and majors in Painting. You won’t stay for my graduation in high school Abe?” I said, taking off the huge white illustration board hanging on a strip of white lace on my neck. “You could stay for the after party and-”
“Graceland had been gracious to us, the Nichols, but that city had been too small for our family. I can’t run, I can’t hide, I can’t even breathe nor cry. I ought to find some place to be immaculate, to feel such.” She then reads the black letterings on board. “I would get used to this.”
She did what she had to do anyway. She’s still learning about getting away with her farm duties and odd jobs and she’s still bad at its execution. Being an actor is the best job in the world. The reason I got into arts is through acting. Originally, it was because I find people interesting. Every single person that walks into your life has their own set of thoughts, ideas, and deportment… so as an actor, you kind of get to go inside that and play someone else’s life… that has all of those feelings. I love that part about acting.
As far as a new dream that I have, I want to be a director at some point. I want to direct things as well as write. “Your skin, it looks better this time… it’s not a chicken skin, but better than a walking zombie.” Said by a woman… in white lacy dress concoction.
Greta, she knows me pretty well… and knows what I like. She knows when I’ll be into something or if I would be into it for the wrong reasons. She kept me grounded for a while and always has my best interest at heart… so I trust her least. In the meantime, as of the days of Adam and Eve, peace was lost, so forth they ate the forbidden fruit and realized their nakedness, they started blaming saints and each other, introduce conflict to their young’s and sadly, invented murder. All of their descendants, including us, Anselm and Greta had followed exactly what somebody is talking about; their paradigm, negative proof, and unenthusiastic case in point.
I lay blame on others for my own wrong choices, as she becomes angry when I don’t accept her guilt. Greta forsakes me for her disgruntlement as she breaks apart families, churches, communities and nations of same souls of sane minds, she can’t make apace as she’s preoccupied with placing the vicarious liability on my kaput periphery. “Can I get a hug from… my prince?” She said with loss of demanding voice. She bore the blame for all of us, the mankind, and the critical unit of Adam’s blood on his cross. She is now recruiting followers, who having received her forgiveness, wants others to take delivery of it as well. If I accept her remorse and grace by her name, will I lose my desire to withhold it from others?
And when I live in peace with her, will I still be eager to make amends with others?
Can I both give and be given the gift of atrocious longevity this winter?
“I am conscious Greta, I could feel your skin.” When presented with something new, usually, my first instinct was to approach. But every novelty is different. Some cause the opposite reaction. I have to pay attention on when I felt the urge to withdraw instead, and obey my hunch. “I thought you wouldn’t get out of that boat… talking, like this.”
I have been with my Greta and my humanity for ten months now, so do I have to trust everybody on my team? She all had known me very well. “It’s great to have a group of people around you, which you could trust.” She said, in cold blood, Greta flees herself from a reversionary hug that chokes her off. “You are the joker… I know that from the moment I saw you eating mud, cause’ no one can fool the Queen Bee.” She smiled with embittered adherence, “She had drones that can hear everything from the very moment you stab that not-so-innocent Maui with your own teeth… to plotting a trap to suffocate Damian with a game of beer pong. I know why you’re doing this to us Anselm, I know you are thirsty for flesh and hungry for blood… but that doesn’t mean it could define you. It shouldn’t be. I lied to you because I care about you, and not… to hurt anyone, including you.”
My secret is out, what should I do next? I walked passing her towards the stairs made of rubble stones in the Pantheon. I’m not indifferent, I’m just troubled, though I’m not supposedly taken as a young man, and the country had to believe what they should believe. I’m dark, I’m white. I’m a killer, I’m a saint.
She won’t be here if she’s the only person who hold doubts, and because of that, she’s the one I could easily kill off if I don’t come happy with a resolution. “Someone fell in love with me before… the self giving love that I dreamed of, that warm connection that I longed for and that pious sense that I want. Yet, who am I to forsake that, I loosed my grip and blown that chance to be happy. I wish that I did my best to save those wonderful feelings.” I kneeled close at one of the rear pillars. “Perhaps the only thing that I could possibly do is to be nice, and glad, or in high spirits. That somehow, I found something that is lovely, because when the time comes for me to find the right person; I would be ready… to face a wonderful opportunity to be complete, again.”
She lazed beside me who already climbed at the front closed doors of the bleach capitol, like those marble scaffoldings, in which they called in part of these broken spaces, some statues. “Love isn’t about finding the perfect person. It is about loving an imperfect person perfect, because love… is all about sacrifice.”
“But you made me crazy!” I shouted, turning around and facing her small face. I noticed that everybody looked at me like I’m into something harebrained, that I’m talking to myself. And then I remembered… that she was a ghost. “You made me believed that I could do everything that I could possibly want, like I’m a superhero. You made me crave power, fame and money. And you made me kill your grandfather, that innocent Lanter!”
“Who raped me!” She slapped me without any given warning. “I was honest to ask you and to share something about the curse of the dolls, I begged you to steal those rag dolls of my family just to give it back immediately… on Lanter’s cabinet. Yes, I do hate you because what you did to my grandfather is unforgivable but I have to, I have to forgive you because I have to, even though I don’t want to. Even though saying these phrases makes me under the weather. You stowed those dolls to give to your sister Abe and to me as a peace offering. You ran at the forest for a week, we never knew what happened to you out there. But when you came back, something had changed, you know that those dolls have a curse, that whenever it was stolen, the spirits of our ancestors had to kill it’s protectors. Lanter had died because of that. I was loyal to you Anselm, I told you everything and you had seen everything!”
“And you hated me because of that.” I said, and then I plunked up.
“And I forgave you because of that.” She said, she tried to embrace me, yet I cannot feel anything. Just meek rostrums of cold fake some.
I had killed someone, and I certainly wanted to. I may have a disorder, but I am not lunatic.
In a reverse world filled with gloomy, down in the dumps mediocre nonsense corroborating a go nowhere state of grievances, persons of interest are attracted to my exceptional measly like moths to a flaming lamp.
This is her story.

I know that this will hurt her; still, I should embark from her bleak, insensible grasp. “I’ll give you ten months to think, and to join my team. And if that time is over, I’ll dispel you forever. More books, fewer receptions, Boutros… Boutros, Greta.”
Then and there, I rode a bus… that is destined to go to Washington D. C.
Never mind others, never mind yourself more.


NEXT CHAPTER… Episode 66: Eye Need A Miracle.

ANSELM and GRETA- Episode 64: Every Five Minutes


The usual text messages in the morning had been filled with agonizing silence. Those calls of laughter’s in the afternoon had been sufficed with appalling awkward puns… and that little lifts of joys when you think that there’s someone special, smiling, warmly… that you expect to came at your doorsteps outside your porch every cold, lonely nights.
The last thing you know, you’re invisible… and invincible, to all of that good ol’ stuff that comes your way. That numbness and that bleak space in your heart had been filled with irrelevant hopes of effervescent thoughts that maybe, all of those good times may come back in succession.
But it’s over… completely done.
“Eben… Eben! My head hurts, where you are!” Maro tried to recall the happenings of the past six months, yet it was a complete abstract. In all that has happened, to him, he had been just. He had acted faithfully… while we all did wrong. To his surprise, it was Ian Moone who greeted him, a “Happy morning to you my dearest cousin.”
The hardest thing is when he doesn’t understand, right, even if he tries all his best to know everything about you.
And the worst thing is when you both don’t understand each other’s own superficial words. “Did you have coke? Or just plain weed?” Ian handed a tray full of New York bagels and a coffee mug with lot and lots of cream bubbles. “It will help you sober up. Oh by the way…” Ian tried to feel his pocket thought there’s nothing on it. “Let me get that for you later, its still on the mailbox.”
“What’s the best thing? Is it when you discovered that you need to accept that you won’t understand him but you still love him no matter what or when the loyalty that blinds the two of you had faltered by dishonesty that was brought by loyalty?” Maro asked, with the silver tray resting between his soiled thighs. “His word was in my heart like a burning fire shut up in my bones… I was weary of holding it back.”
Ian grunted while staying a drilling eye contact to this perished saint. “Jeremiah chapter twenty, verse nine… are you still trying to ask a question my dearest cousin Maro?”
“Am I?” Maro said, yet it’s more of a respond to his own inquiry. “You always tells me that you envy those things that I have, that I have enjoyed my life so much that it sometimes hurts, that I don’t deserve it whatsoever. I love adventure, so for me, having this comfortable life in a way prepared me to be hungry. I’d rather run into the woods trying to survive, than to be trapped in this kind of society where the sun never persist in rising. It is weirdly similar, to action movies, it is an extension to the emotion of dying hard, though I’m not afraid of much… yet I’m pretty bad at being fearless. In such, I made myself stand.”
Ian didn’t listen to most of his words. Though he’s the guy most likely doesn’t listen at such mellow sentiments of those people who have lives to live. He is born cynical, believing in himself, and with a tiny pinch of magic, irrelevant and often tan not, insensitive. Born as much as a Beachwood tree, Ian could be expounded in one word… heartless, still there was something that makes his core melt into tiny bits of diamonds… it is, arts. “On the right wall, that was the only thing that I envy about you.”
“The feeling of Picasso…” This takes even Maro aback, “On the right wall, which is my only pleasure. My only one… I couldn’t give you that.”
“For sure you won’t. You’re superficially incapable of such.” Ian smiled bitterly, “Of course you won’t, that number is maleficent, from Picasso’s Rose Period… those circus performers from Paris knows that they we’re too precious to be held by me, I’m Ian Moone… I am no one. Dishonest and fearful, sometimes fear is not as important as hope… that fear is definitely not as strong as determination. Today is best played conservatively. Many of the risks aren’t worth taking. I used my head as an instrument and I’m not that impulsive. That painting is not an enough prize for me to compete. If there’s nothing to win by battling, I don’t fight.”
“But in your heart…” Says Maro. “You had set apart us, your family… you had always been prepared to give us an answer to everyone who asked you to give them reasons, for the hope that you have… you do this with gentleness and respect.”
“Who does not? Who does not lie in everyone’s face?” Ian said before he enclosed the door, but before he went unremembered, he grappled something on his teal colored robe’s deep pocket. “Here’s your letter.”
Ian throws a blue envelope on his bedside. “I thought you never… I guess… then you lied.”
“I do it on a daily basis.” Ian stepped his foot for the tenth time, until he hesitantly turned around. ”if you could see it… it’s from Craig.”
What has a head or a tail, but no body?
A coin…

RSPECTING BOYS IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN TELLING HIM THAT HE’S BEAUTIFUL. That same day, he read a letter from the most undesirable person in which he never wants’ to have a conversation with. Yet after he divulged word by word, phrases to phrases, on every character that comes out on every paragraphs on that piece of tinted paper, Maro didn’t fell asleep for nine days. On the view deck of SS Tarny, docked at the Newport Beach, California, he revealed what Craig conveyed on his letter. He was talking to me in prayers, thinking that I could sense his agony, but I was busy hauling the ropes on the yacht so that we could be safe.
“He wanted me to see what real courage is.” Says Maro, still, holding Craig’s letter. “Instead of getting the idea that a man could have a gun in his hand, without having to point the pistol on his forehead, he wanted me to go back on Menlo Park, in Northern California, though he had lost it all… he wanted me to go back to his side.”
“You lick before you begin… do you always have to do that?” I said, asking myself why I had said that. I took the sweaty felt letter, entranced, I lifted it up with trembling hands… crumbling the piece of paper and giving it back to him eventually. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Maro.”
“I’m no glad.” Says Maro, while starring at the blank pale colored sky, he said, “I haven’t dealt with anything as common as libel or some kind of sorts. I rarely win, he rarely does. I see it through that no matter what, I couldn’t be his company. He couldn’t hurt me, he lends me with secrets, but I do despise the pity of his voice. Yet, I do love the smell of his skin.”
“What are those secrets Maro?” I said, without noticing that I was already seating beside him. “Do you want me to have a pinky swear?”
Surprisingly, he subjectively discarded the paper out to the chary waters. “I know that you could only fall in love once, other feelings for love are not actual love. Attraction, aroused… so it’s either of the two where you have fell. I find the last one interesting,“ Unknowingly, he kissed my bare mouth, calumny dissipated the jaunting schismatic derision between us, subservient to the lampoon of a down-casted rotund of opprobrious unbecoming. I had a judicious sensation that all of my wounds had been healed. All of the scars, all of the rotten skin of a dead man speaking… my face, arms, feet and everything that could be scorned, contempt, disdain or mortified… was restored to its priggish prominence. “You could heal wounds, an angel could only do such… are you, a guardian?”
Maro took it with a silent nod of thanks, “As much as I wanted to say yes, I couldn’t… because I’m a ravenous falcon, with a man’s legs and feet. I’m a Fahrenheit, Anselm, I’m a Fahrenheit. I could heal people, just like you… though I’m still living.”
Spouting insults and physically attacking people, I got tired of winning the games, pretending that I was weak and helpless so he would ignore me. It turns out, that he had an exceptional ability to kill time, and break down silence. “Would you make me remember why I was sorry for you?”
“Yes, I could.” Says Maro, with a distinguishing gaze. “Sonoma had died, my aunt Sonoma Silver, the famous runway model from New York, the city of dreams and golden apples. While she’s partying in Elvis Presley’s Graceland State, on a fashion show event… she gauged to find a resting place on one of the jungle rooms of Elvis’s Mansion, to drink wine and smoke cigars. While seating at the frame of the windows brink, she was pushed to her death by an unknown perpetuator. That’s why I decided to go back to our house in Menlo Park, to see my family, to know the truth and to be there when the last will and testament of my aunt has to be pronounced. Whoever did this… that person will pay.”
“How did Craig know all about this… stuff?” I asked in pain.
“He is my father Anselm, he is also an Incubus.” Maro walked passed me, he opened his wings like an angry eagle. “Just like your father.”
I just don’t like spiders… they’re always up to no good. I never trust them no matter how big or small they are. They’re always going to crawl inside your head and plant baby spiders or some kind.
And I thought he was a spider. That’s how I sense him. I could use a turkey sandwich right now, but in the grand schema of life, I’m hungry for a diversified revenge. As an actor, I like playing different kinds of characters from kissing them one by one and making love with them two by two.
Going on different sorts of journeys, I told myself… going to bed with him is just a small price to pay.
I already forgot why I’m angry at them, the Wilkinson Brothers, but I always did… and I always will.


NEXT CHAPTER… Episode 65: The End Game.

ANSELM and GRETA- Episode 63: This Is The Captain Speaking


READING EDIFIES MIND, TALKING RIDICULES SOUL, thus… melancholy, is just a rubbish comfort from poison apples of rotten trees.
It is where, in the hidden place, my father shall protect me. It was a passion, which is energy. Feeling the power that comes from focusing on what excites me, I hoped it could be a lesson to all… that if you wouldn’t fight for something that you want, don’t sob at a corner.
You can’t licked a fodder with a spilled glass of milk from a cow that is running around the barnyard.
Because nothing in this world had been accomplished without a passionate soul… that is why…

I always find beauty in madness.

THE BURNING BOAT FESTIVAL, in which every September 19 of the harvest year of the witches, the State of Oregon celebrates a carnival combining parades, pageantry, folk drama and feasting that had been usually held in Lincoln City, in which faces the Pacific Ocean.
Probably originating in pagan spring fertility rites, it was a riotous dissipation with the Spanish Bacchanalia de Saturnine. During the middle ages, the witches attempted to control the celebration, but when the then Pope Pious VII served as a patron, the worst excesses were gradually eliminated… as the witches had since inclemently included on the burning galleon.
Coherently, the Silver Mirror, the only way to get in and out of the Reverse World… had been placed by the people of Lincoln on the ship with the rest of the city’s possessed possessions; TV sets, black bags, framed pictures, notebooks and journals, toys, dolls, letters and other stuffs they believed, will be transcended into the heavens once it’ll be chaffed into tar by the smoke and heat.
Notwithstanding, when we came back to the real world, the ship was about to sink, as the flares are about to increase its royal control in progression. “We wouldn’t be killed by the Vestal Virgins, but the fire are trying to kill us softly!” Tristan uttered between coughs.
“Just like the old times.” Paradoxically, Greta caught up with our flying phase, eclipsing a temporal power over the Silver Mirrors, accompanied by a recovery of her prestige. “You will be killed here, with me. There will be no happy ending to your fairytale my love.”
The monarchist’s reaction on the wake of our revolution later emerged as a conservative development… making us mouth bounded and fearful. Still, the Reverse Air of the different world where we came from… freed to respond to her renewed spiritual authority. Increasing vigor, I fortify my gift of tongues. “Never before had popes, been quiet so active in moral and doctrinal know how’s… and great encyclical teachings than you have Greta. How did you turned your morality and become a wrathful creature?”
“You are asking me on how I became a witch?” Greta reaffirmed her stand by walking through the fire, straight towards my direction. “You walked around Graceland and looked at the people, and you’re wonder why they are here. In a mean way, and in a curious way… you had been surrounded by angels all throughout your awkward existence, yet they didn’t see your cruel nature. And why me Anselm, why did you made me fall when your about to ruined my soul? You ate my heart like a lion in the circus, but I still loved you throughout all of this journey, because the only thing that I want from you right now is to be on my side and hold my hands, while I’m beginning to feel the fire burning my skin.”
“You will be burned alone on this boat Greta.” I stole the Sword of Valor on the hands of Richard the Guardian and like a witch hunter, planted it on her defiance chest.
The people of Lincoln City thought that it was still a part of the festivities. Introspectively and intelligently, the angels escorted us beyond the walls of people… caught between trying to live life and desiring to run from it, I was tempted to navigate my way back through the uncharted territory of the Vestal Virgins; the Reverse World.
When all of us required a perfect song, Greta can’t stay on that burning boat forever, standing on the fingers of life, offering a matchless standpoint of smoke and sea on fire.

EQESTRIANISM, IN WHICH THE CIRCUS BEGAN, has been relegated to a subordinate viewpoint in the circus world today. Yet the circus stanchly incorporated in the show a three and a half hour somersault trapeze which is now performed by two clown aerialists, doing a forward putting the boot in routine on a high wire walk.
Jugglers perform on the backs of galloping studs, swaying on tight ropes and balancing on moving crystal balls. Animal acts are more during than ever, and unusual shindigs like tigers riding on a rhino and trained giraffes on a hippo could be seen.
Abandoning on the big top, the players roofed down the air conditioned arena, from a moment, they had entrained their vitality, still one of the clowns tripped over the high wire and into the freezing ground… enough to fall with a considerable impediments.
Thus, attaining a long appreciable vertical extent of attention from the viewers, the narrow filaments of slanted stairs appeared as teal, fairly a uniformed veil in the sky, as the boys came down, except Lok, who’s still in hostage by the Speaks.
Timothy, Maro and Raphael fairly rectified who’s the clown, yet the medics became thicker over time, as the rescuers moved him closer at the entrance… the three were shocked to see that the Joker was smiling at them while the rescuers wiped his face with a wet tissue.


NEXT CHAPTER… Episode 64: Every Five Minutes.

ANSELM and GRETA- Episode 62: Shut Up And Kiss Me


THERE ARE THREE STAGES IN ATTRACTION CYCLE; physical, mental and unconditional. You know its love when there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ll be with this person forever. Still, there is greater feeling than love… and that is revenge.

When you think that you know him… you think you don’t.

“Everyone is the Joker.” Aidan said in the third half of the circus performances. Among them is the flying trapeze, appearing in a one piece garment worn by many circus dancers and artist today and partnered with the traditional white faced clown. Before this, some queens had performed with caged animals in menageries of lion kings. But such acts had suffered from space limitations and could not be seen easily by them, saturated at the upper box of the bleachers. “Isn’t this fun Lok? Look, we’re here in this together, watching a funny performance of the cirque, on this air conditioned space… just like the old times?”
“I’m not here to poke some square with you cray-crays, I’m here to know the truth.” Lok had become more aware of the whatever form of air on their upper atmosphere, rising sufficiently to cause ice crystals to form.
“I know who could better answer your inquires.” That is Stephen, who went alone to Salem because I was gone, and Stephen hangs around with Aidan, who hanged him when he was a child, and Aidan is still crazy, and Aidan’s mom sent him to a catholic school, wearing orange awkward glasses. Moving closer, they were just like kind of watching people, not really watching, but more of staring at the circus. Normally, he was very shy, yet Stephen seemed like the kind of guy you could just walk up to a Cirque de Soleil show even though you were seven years younger and not popular, “911.”
Seated beside a very pretty boy next to him, Lok started to chain smoke, when he started to have a good look at him, “A very typical American format.”
In all these acts, the clowns on the rings played a prominent role, interrupting their performances with acrobatic comedy and wisecracks’ with the ring master, and thereby providing the riders and their mounts a needed rest.
The difference is… Lok, couldn’t dance at these dancers, as a pressure of a knife at the arterial and venous ends of his capillaries on the side of his stomach miffed him to the peeved.
Resulting in the movement of bodily fluids of red down his chair… but angels couldn’t die right? They already died once.


NEXT CHAPTER… Episode 63: This Is The Captain Speaking.

ANSELM and GRETA- Episode 61: Sadist Ratchet


MIXED METAPHORS MUDDLE MEDLING MINDS, I’m thinking that I’m the only one who had angels to protect me, and we all did, yet I’m just a one third of a triplet… a comparison to a thief of joy.
To popular belief, the grass isn’t greener on the other side. Both are burdens as much they are gifts.
And considering that David changed my face using a spell binding act, looking for words and phrases the creator used to describe peace and pacemakers, as an adult to be… I continued to enjoy being with the angels, seeking their advice and honoring them.
Which of the angels’ statements about my brothers particularly impressed Richard? Did he saw the enduring influence for good that my biological parents can have on their children? Think about Craig did on raising the twins for separating the triplets at birth.
Reviewing the guardians’ statements about my twin brother’s Terrance and Tristan, why didn’t I thought that their guardian angels Richard and Syfert saved them from the fire on their mansion and the gunshot that we thought killed Tristan. But we found out that it was all, a false doctrine. I think that we represented the most peculiar aspect of any family that has ever lived upon this earth, or the Reverse World… I should say, all seated in a triangle… father, mother, and sons.
Listening in breathless anxiety, to the teachings of an angel named Richard while fighting the witches of Salem, no jar nor discord disturbed his conjuring patience, as tranquility reigned in his midst, here to fore, exceeding with a more definite idea that anything which can be taught is could be saved, we might stay our minds upon something Richard, Angelus and Syfert said in a mute signal to each of us.
They housed Tristan and Terrance in a secluded place to join in prayer, that the creator would deliver them from the awful influence of Brigit, but before they could get a sufficient distance to be secured from interruption, Tristan stand upon his feet running from the wilderness of West Virginia. Without a blessing from the angels. To be cut off with a horrid curse… of the Joker, trifling him to play as his brother Terrance.
Upon giving them one word of parting counsel, Belle cried out, “Let us…” Said by Belle Canto, getting down upon her knees, praying to remove the cramp and other distress from her son’s Tristan, Terrance… and myself, “Be together again.”
“Oh my mother!” Said by Terrance, they did so, but without receiving any benefit through the stillness of the moment, it grew worse. “The castle, its burning… we shall return, back to sweet ol’ Graceland.”
We soon came to the resolution of appealing, again, to the guardians for mercy and to rise for one another, as the castle begun to loose its hold, and in short time afterwards, the angels’ sprang on their feet and exclaimed, “We shall go back to Graceland.” For I have seen an open vision which I saw as a hole in the sky.
To spare our lives, the guardians behold us again, in their flesh of their backs… flying, by means of assisting us when the shadows of death encompass us.
But the love of Greta upon me are kept coming back to haunt me. For the few remaining daughters of the Vestal Virgins illustrated in white gowns and broomsticks came to jostle us when the news came to them that the Sons of Graceland were to be taken away by the angels into salvation.
The messenger, Greta Saint Claire, told them that if you ever saw the Son’s of Graceland alive, “You girls have to go with them, as they have to be killed.”
When we came within the cracks of the sky, they could go no further, because of the angels, with they were surrounded with over a million wings. As there is no gentleman here who could assist them through the light, spines divine… those knees they work just fine, because it isn’t a bane that’s worth banishing.


NEXT CHAPTER… Episode 62: Shut Up And Kiss Me.

ANSELM and GRETA- Episode 60: Panto Frames


THE CIRCUS CLOWN amuses the audience by easing their tension produced by the perilous feast of high-wire trapeze performances.
These clowns assume bizarre characters and garb roles to win attention. A circular performance arena was used where a spectacular pageantry of trained elephants has awed the circus audiences, when the elephants first appeared tonight, as the spotlight was accompanied by brilliantly plumaged performers with the streak of strobe lights.
It was the nineteenth leg of Cirque de Soleil’s Fandango World Tour. Early circus programs were devoted largely to trick horsemanship in which riders had to keep within bounds of the spectator’s view, bestriding two galloping horses, while two clowns riding with their one foot on the saddle and the other on the horse’s mouth… balancing their head downward on a pint bottle placed on the saddle while firing a pistol on some distant target.
These were just a few of the sensational feasts exhibited by the circus, while the Wilkinson Boys are trying to find Timothy on the sea of faces seated inside the coliseum. In the second half of the showcase, costumed riders performed pantomimes in horseback and graceful Pas de Deux with attractive girls, engaging in a more acrobatic style of equestrianism that included somersaults from one horse to another. Some formed human pyramids while riding several horses… like the boys who find themselves scattered all over the place looking for two separate people.
One is a Singaporean-Arab, and the other is a lady with a make-up.
You may in some measure realize in what fathom are you right now Lok, but you still have to answer your phone. “Did you find any of them?” asked by the curly haired guy.
Unreliably, Maro spoken with a lost thought. “I can’t Lok, there’s too many of them…”
“What!” in unbelief, and in grief, I must say that it was no ordinary feeling to endeavor a few lines of measure to ascertain his resolves. Seeing that the Joker manipulated the whole audience to wear the same kind of clothes as Timothy: white sneakers, a bright yellow bangle, and huge transparent white framed ray-bans. Too KPop to be described.
They say that conspiracy is the eye of the beholder, yes, they were right. “Ouch! Watch your steps moron.” It is a moron, or more of a lunatic. I could assure you Lok, that I feel a disposition to act your case in a manner that I will meet the approbation of the circus, yet the romantics were making a great age as the female race becomes their own trick riders… who leaps over broad bands of cloth and banners, through paper covered hoops of balloons. Firing the imaginations both on the audiences and on the Reverse World’s Walter Peak.
Another type of acrobatic trick riding known as Voltige, where the rider leaps off and on the moving horse, eventually, and the performers dissociated themselves from the dramatic element of these two boys with white face paint and all. Illuminating their stage, Lok grapples the arm of the guy that shoved him. “Aidan, won’t you say that you’re leaving soon. There’s so much fun out here.”
And you know Aidan what would be much, much funnier; if you try to act your age and try to defend yourself more from these bullies.
I will not be here forever to be your guidance…

“YOU FROM THE VERY BEGINNING, since we came here at the Reverse World… that this tie up with Brigit will never be a pleasure one, because she’s a crazy lady!” Terrance argued with his twin, well… his other twin brother, Tristan, on the corner of the hall, watching the legions of Angelus and the angels from heaven, detriments the castle and the witches that they could grove with their wings. “She couldn’t win this fight. She will never be, because the circle had been assimilated six months ago…”
Brigit turned around and walked sternly towards their corner. “What did you say?” She grafted Terrance’s throat, which made him bleed as nuts as ever be, as her sharp fingernails digs itself on his skin. “What are you saying about the expression circle? The expressions spell!”
“There is more than sex that could make us believe your lies Brigit!” Terrance presented a powerful sermon upon the storms of mischief of the moment. “Remember your nineteen sacrifices huh? It had been broken.”
“Some of them had been already saved by Anselm.” Tristan testified. “And some of them had been saved by Lok. That’s why the walls that you’ve built for defense against your own witches from the fissures of Hades’ Limbo had been turned down, and the breaks on the Pearly Gates of Hades will be closed… any minute now.”
“You know that I wouldn’t let my plans go down that easily. For centuries I planned this, cause’ the only thing I yearn for is revenge for the women of New England. This land treated us like rubbish and killed us like rats!” She grabbed the two of them with her sanctimonious strength towards the Lepricon’s Pot of Gold. “Say goodbye to this mundane.”
Reaching a critical point, an angel from heaven issued a sword on the witches’ heart, constituted a mankind of moral agents, and giving him power to choose the good from evil, to seek after that which is light, by pursuing the pathways of holiness in this life, which brings peace of mind. “My name, is Richard. The angel who protects Tristan.”


NEXT CHAPTER… EPISODE 61: Sadist Ratchet.

ANSELM and GRETA- Episode 59: Cats Don’t Like To Be Touched


“MY HUMBLE AUTHORITY, AS A SOURCE OF MY STREGHT, how glorious were my feelings when I met the faithful and friendly band of virgins… women and men alike.” The sweet and innocent Brigit told us, entering the vaulted receiving area of the castle’s front royal hall. “Here we are, enjoying the fruits of our labor.”
The twins consummately reflect the two castles. Mean in preponderance, disrupted with similarities and significantly meager with artistic resemblance. But there was something frightful inside the forbidding hall. A Golden Pot, something a Lepricon, or two, can affably accommodate.
They dragged us like an animated coins of gold while we could watch the ladies jugs of smelted gold towards the colossal vessel. On what their purpose on doing that is had to be known, a man must have the discerning of the chaste, as before I stated, to understand the cultures of the witches, and how I’m going to do obtain this gift if there are no gifts to be understood? And how can these glories be ordained without revolution? I ascended into the Reverse World, yet I couldn’t fight. I should always save hyperbole until I really need it.
How the men had to be chosen; by a divine communion, or a more divine appointed ordinance? I can’t talk, I couldn’t ask a single question, and I couldn’t yield some heinous succor. I’m avoidant, helpless to extreme. Gisele was right indeed… excessive ambition is just as debilitating as apathy.
Distrust can be as harmful as blind trust.
Love gives you happiness, and that happiness is danger. Beware. Through the medium of the witches, Brigit influenced by the spirit to control the Vestal Virgins bid the departed’s consequently. They were enabled to unravel the dead and unlock all things pertaining to the Nineteen Sacrifices for the Expression Spell. To make sure that all the Vestal Virgins with their loyalty, from then and now, their sisters will be resurrected… for the welfare of the witches’ lair, and their society, in reproduction and sustenance.
Their mysterious and mischievous operations while trying to palm themselves upon the power of their religious garb, which is Brigit, are disturbing enough to make my eyes roll. They’re the only ones who could bid the future of men. And its agencies.
Nobody in this world was ever born to love moderately. We always did, in every age, in every gender, and in every race. Yet there’s seems to be a luck of negligence pertaining to the Circus Maximus; it’s Witches and the Vestal Virgins… as the spirits of their all kinds have been manifested from every centuries and almost amongst all the descendants of eve who gather themselves with white cloths, in front of my mother and I.
I could see a vision of myself on the molted gold filling the sage and ignorance of the Lepricon’s Pot Of Gold. But who has to do it? All are eloquent to be that green gentleman.
Yet there he is, around the Blue Men in Blue cloak, Alastair in stare, on the golden platform. Like some vultures ready to devour their prey.
Actually, everything around this castle are in golden color, separated in peace with the ones who wear white, blue, green, yellow… and us in red, painted by bruises and blood.
Who could drag us into the daylight? We answer this with a statement that no matter what, there’s no man who could do this without my hands made of crystals. Even me, without this hands there is nothing, compared to this girls, the beautiful creatures… the fairer ones.
And then the witch, in red spoken, “By possessing intelligence which is more than human, and having unfolded through the centuries, the mysterious operations of his devices, the black sheep will be… the ultimate sacrifice.”
Because the grass is only as green as you make it to be, as I have noticed before, the great difference in difficulty lies in the ignorance of my vocabulary, unlike six months ago when I’m still alive… and can nourish myself with the soul destroying knowledge that could be find in books in horrid colors. For nothing is a greater injury to man than to be under the influence of these women.
I couldn’t get what she is saying, until Brigit pulled my hands into the pot of boiling gold.

THE WILKINSON BOYS JUST KEPT WALKING. Lok had a way of brisling quite sometimes. I guess I should have mentioned that Kaycee said that Lok’s parents are divorced now. But I think I shouldn’t, Kaycee doesn’t have manners to have any credence, since she is a liar, a witchy-bitch and used my brother Jeremias to be close at the brotherhood.
And it had been six months ago when we’ve last seen her downtown, sacrificing herself for Brigit’s mission. Jumping at a bridge on the Lake District. But before she plunged, she said that only seventy percent of marriages stay together when they already loosed a child. I think she had read it from a magazine somewhere.
Yet how could it be? Lok’s parents could only have one child and it was him.
I understand how Lok thinks, I really do. I swear. He will find his Black Brothers, we are from perfect but we keep our happiness close. “Timothy, followed the botch inside the coliseum, hey, don’t shove me!” Maro said as they pushed themselves through the crowd. “This looks like a Justin Bieber concert. Someone’s stepping on my feet! Watch-out man!”
The circus performances started… the majority of the circus acts including trick riding, tumbling, juggling, and even the exhibiting of wild animals had been done. However, there is one distinct act that Lok is waiting for.
The clown on the ring.

“THEY SHOULD FIND A SEAT. Welcome to the circus my lovely young Vikings!” The lying spirits are going back and forth from the great manifestations of saving hope, both false and true for Belle and I, with visions of singing presiding. “I’m here to fetch my wife and my loving sons of anarchy… Terrance, Tristan… and Anselm!” Danny almost reckoning the iron gates, said while entering the castle with his Keanu Reeves impression.
Tristan pointed his fingers at Danny, spoken too harshly from the impulse of the moment, in as much as I wounded his feelings. “Get him!”
In the wilderness among the witches of false witnesses. Providence may call us, as the mob attacked my dad standing on the arch entrance of the winter-wood of the Reverse Salem, here in the Sonoma Castle.
I am determined that neither heights nor depths, principalities nor powers, any other creature nor things presents a salvation for Danny, until I could see face to face a testimony of unremitted surety of confidence, as I believed that Angelus is a man of truth. When I told him anything, as he has told me everything, that he placed an equal sanguine in my world. For he told me that I could just believe that I’ll do know when I’m in disdain, that he would came as my guardian angel in white dove wings, holding a cobalt shield and a congruous sword. “It is my disposition to forgive and give, to bear and to forbear, I ended a long suffering and patience with follies, foibles, weaknesses and wickedness of the Circus Maximus towards the world of human kind.” Angelus on his greatest edict while a fire throwing blaze was being treatises into him. For he, Angelus is willing to stem the torrent of all opposition, in tempest and storms, in lightning thief’s and thunderstorms of the sea while he juggles the antimony of the wilderness by land… among mobs of false witches. Wherever in his providence may call, as his shield of protection and the sword of valor.
However, the cup had been dunk. The will of the witches had been done. We say it is my privilege to be delivered from the powers of adversaries… which will brought us into the liberty and again, take their stand among the witches from the unfeigned cracks of the curtains of Hades, commend them to the most height, to be diligent… in humility. Confessed to be real.
Their repentance is genuine. Once again, returning prodigals given by the right hand of God who holds the keys of the pearly gates of the east of eden.

More angels to come.
Send me all your angels.

NEXT CHAPTER… Episode 60: Panto Frames.