Tag: Things Man Was not Meant to Know
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Homecoming
She scowls at the lights burning in the windows of the estate, annoyed at herself for her surprise. The building had been half ruined after the incident, abandoned; she chides herself at her foolishness for supposing it would remain so. The location was too good and the remains of the house too intact for someone not to have bought it.
It was your fault, a whisper says and she shakes her head in denial.
Her bare feet make only the faintest whisper as she creeps through the shadows beneath the garden wall; there is a spot she could climb, but but she rejects it as too risky, too much danger of being silhouetted against the rising moon and the iron blades and broken glass which topped the wall are doubtless still there. Farther on, there...
Let Me Tell You a Secret
The city is old, a place of terrible, unnumbered crimes where darkness and blood have seeped into the brickwork. Railways and subways and sewers lie atop plague pits and temples to forgotten gods. A rat’s maze of half-remembered tunnels threads in and around the channels of buried rivers. Glass and steel are rooted in the brick and stone and mud of an older city; leering stone faces peer from the walls of underground parking garages. There are courts and alleys that are not on any map; mere cracks in the brickwork that burrow behind the glass facades. Dingy, tattered places unknown to the rush hour hordes that stream past twice a day.
She wakes and the dream of the city dissolves as she stirs. There are so many cities in her dreams....
Cracked
The cracked walls are covered in writing. Names, dates, places, comments, obscene graffiti, drawings, nonsense words in half a dozen scripts and twice as many languages - all connected by lines that swoop and swirl and form dizzying patterns that seem to disappear into the flaking plaster if you look at them the wrong way. Or perhaps, if you look at them the right way.
The mad girl rocks herself, thin arms clasped around boney knees as she studies her handiwork. “It connects.” She mutters to herself, “It all connects. Just like last time.”
She tilts her head, listening. “No.” She says, “They don’t know. They don’t want to know.”
A pause, “They only know one name. Just one. They don’t know all the names.”
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Once Upon a Time
“Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to the mind, when it has once seized on it, like a lichen on the rock.” Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Once upon a time, there was a young woman who went to school to learn magic. She was very bright and learned very fast and her teachers were happy with her. Perhaps she was not as wise as she was bright, for she wanted to know things her teachers would not teach her.
So the young woman read books she should not have read and learned things she should not have learned and she went places that her teachers had forbidden and she did things that we can not name. Her teachers clucked their tongues and shook their heads, for it was not the first time this sort of thing had happened.
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