The Fifth Moon

13


Advance:

There is a drawing of power within the moon onto earth, and those on earth can feel this pull, and the unholy spirits that dwell upon the moon—occasionally dwell upon the moon, draw from the moon’s and earth’s inner core, power, and after five- consecutive moons, the power within the unholy spirits are at its most condensed and greatest point of commanding power’, and when they find a human participant—for whatever snares they wish to entrap their prey , they have the drawing power of the five moons, it is said only the most Godly of men and women, can resist its heave—meaning, the ghoul or demon possessing its power. This is one such case…and this is also in one particular area of Planet Earth, where these unholy spirits, unscrupulous, often come to visit, know as the Mosel Valley, which is along its river, in West Germany—and now we shall begin the story…


Eltz Castle, Night in the Mosel Valley


(1974) “I must talk to the dead,” Eva said. The old seer listened closely, she asked for one-hundred marks for her services.

Said Eva, “Is it death—, I must face to reach him, to go through?”

“Death, O death,” responded Ronda, the Seer, “death with a tear you may think is death, but it is not, and yes, you must taste it, flavor it, to get to it, to get to him.”

So the old seer (at Eltz Medieval Castle, in the Mosel Valley of Germany) laid her hands upon her breasts, The Duke, called the Lion, looking from his den of Saxony and Bavaria (AD 1192), just gawking.

Said the old Seer (with wide owl looking eyes), “You must not groan, when you go down to death, lest you wake them up and spoil your quest!”

“If the dead come to my aid, I will reward you with twenty-thousand marks,” said Eva; a nice sum.

In and out of the courtyard the old seer paced, swimming with thoughts, chanting; then someone started yanking on the iron-bell at the gate, a call to let them in, and the seer opened it, but no one walked through, not anyone visible.

The breath of dusk, sank over the valley, a dark reeking sickness came with it. And the old seer laid down, as it sank overhead, laid down holding her knees inward, close to one another, her hands tightly gripping them, her forehead bruised, as if something hauntingly had slapped her naked life form about. She whimpered quietly, covering herself with old fall leaves lying about, and then Eva knelt beside her. The moon had lowered itself; it seemed now to have acquired ripples, five ripples in all, to its rims, making it look like five moons, five eyes looking at Eva, one larger than the other, overpowering each other, ‘What an eerie and odd sight,’ she murmured.
The hideous night— was developing into crystal orange, purple ash, a thick watery darkness, laced with shady hues.

Both remained silent; Eva, waiting for the seer to awake from her solitary frozen like enchantment—wanting and waiting for answers and to ask questions, and for answers to questions, pertaining to her journey into the voiceless deep; it was funny she thought, so very funny, how the fall leaves that laid upon the ground, around the seer, now were leaping and jumping around her—as if dancing in a some kind of voodoo ritual, as if trying to spellbind her, the air—the tone within the atmosphere had changed, produced no wind: in consequence, Eva’s nerves were under agitation, anticipation, revelations.

“Is it time?” she asked the seer.

But the seer’s eyes were bolted shut, with blackness, and purple-black eyelids. Her pulse was nil: Eva stumbled and then stopped, and her body lifted, hands unseen lifted her, hands invisible once waiting were not waiting anymore, but were laid over her breasts and diaphragm—then an assault took place, many out of breath voices were over her young and tender fleshly frame; hot—burning sensations filled her flesh, she took on pain from her heels to her head—an agony she had never known, experienced, then this horde, this unseen presence withdrew, muttering as if it wasn’t the end to end, wasn’t ended —they wanted more…

and the shadows and shapes, ghouls and goblins, and imps and devils and demons—watching from a glimmer on the moon, now all, mostly all, but not all, moved, down, down towards the courtyard of the castle, moved under and within the walls of the Eltz Castle (the fortress), moved like blinking eyes to and fro—pacing, racing, lurking and loitering: moved from the glimmer and flicker and spark of light, lit on the moon’s surface: down, down, down, onto the castle grounds, as they trailed one after another to join their comrades in the courtyard, and thereabouts, and the old woman seer, who didn’t move at all—not yet, not one iota, not one inch, although bruised from head to heel, there she remained in her trauma like state, eyes bolted shut, her pulse nil...

“Ingles, speak English!” Eva cried. And the voice that muttered in German went silent
“I will take you down to shoal, to hell, to see your brother, who at one time was your lover….” (he knew more than she told)

Then another voice yelled, “The trailing familiar spirits want her too!”

Between the devils and the ghouls, and the demons and the imps, she had stripped and danced for them as they sang ungodly songs, all so she could be rejoined with the brother she so loved, had so loved, had died and left her heart broken—a suicide. And she danced and they sang, and she sang and they danced, and the seer remained in some kind of trance, unmoved, from head to heel, nil—like an old worn-out wooden floorboard.

And the ghouls asked Eva to sing and dance more, “No, I will not,” she replied, in defiance, and the seer’s eyes opened up wide, very wide.

“My dear child,” said her voice, her lips unmoving, “unless they are pleased…you shall not see your brother, you must endure more,” and she shouted this second time, the same as she did the first, but louder, “No, I will not!!” her flesh, from heel to head, scorched red from her attacks, her voice hoarse:

“I cannot!” said Eva, boldly, “I will not!”

A hand appeared, touched hers, and accepting this alien being for just a second, strange it seemed it undid her garments—in a whisk (those she had just fastened back on); also there were other hands concealed; she tried to stop the invisible hands: tears now rolled over, and down, and around her cheeks, lips, her face, but the male voice had no pity, just said in a chant:

“This is part of your contract!” Thus, naked, her beauty was taken again— but this time less willingly!


Eva’s Demise


The moon now bright, and as white as her skin: the shadows all leaped about her, as she wept; the husky spirit now ruled her. And the spirits continued to dance across her unclothed flesh.
Slender was her body, in the moon’s light, and the polluting, penetrating dance of the spirits—almost visible, but not quite, all of them seemed to touch her inviolability, as if she was a goddess…

Between brother and sister, she had lost her virginity, now at this hour of time an invidious virgin to the demonic world. The dead wanted her. The chant continued as the seer closed her eyes, bolted shut, with purple-black eyelids; Eva’s spirit almost broken, wailing inside of her once unnoticed hidden chambers within her second-self; her legs trembling, her thighs bruised.

She heard this certain voice again, the husky voice, the one that was trying to enslave her—more so enslave her than all the others, the one that came from the moon, the one and perhaps only one, that had the five embodied moons within him—its essence:

“Obey…!” the voice said— cold it was—with no pity, likened to the moons airless breathe—no infamy; and there about shadows paced, and as the evening progressed, everything that was unseen was forming a substance to its shapes (as if her eyes were developing some kind of fluid around the inner layer, the retina, and the lens seemed to thicken, and she assumed the optic nerve was working with her whole eye in some kind of conversion— and placing within her sockets, the eyes of the devil)—as if her eyes were drawing power—from that voice—whom had the power from the moons to materialize, and for her eyes to see those un-seeable damned beings, and that voice said:

‘Obey!’

Now with the moon’s light upon her, the shadows and shapes over her, flesh assaults continued—a beastly parade had invaded her, and she could see them all as if in a mist.


Refuge in the Valley


It rained eyes from the moon: shadows, watching shadows. Her body now gone mad; the seer still in her trance, Eva, now running out of the courtyard, down to the Valley by the river—the Mosel: shadows swaggering along in a long trail. She hid—on hands and knees, telling herself, ‘…if this is less than hell—by gosh, my brother must be insane by now,’ then she added, ‘his soul can live without seeing me.’ She had had enough.

The moon that had appeared to have been five was becoming one again, she noticed—perhaps the husky demon was losing his extraordinary power, and it was as if she was coming out of a trance herself, yet, she remained hidden half exposed behind the boulders and foliage.


Said that old sounding husky voice once more, “Show your face Eva, we got carried away, we’ve traded love and wisdom, for power and control, long ago, and it is hard to separated, sit aside, hard to let go of old enduring habits, we never meant to hurt you.” And as she looked above the stones, there was her brother on hands and knees, on a dog leash, barking.

She would not show her face completely, she had only the wounded woman in her to offer; desire for them, to fill is all they really wanted: and she was learning quickly, demons were liars and perverts, they had no such thing called pity, or mercy, they reacted instead of acting, reacted to lustful, and evil emotions, more than acting to their thinking, and because of this, they had to endure a craving to fulfill their needs. Eva had opened a window for the demons to come in, and they did, and it was self-interest they favored, not her interest in the least, they just wanted to find the edge, the weak point in her and then overwhelm her; but for her it was now too high a price to pay—the way she was thinking was: let the dead lay with the dead.

There the seer stood, eyes wide open, like a robot, android, looking at her, looking at Eva, as if looking through her, as a result, she said, “They cannot murder you, only make you endure them. Now you can go to hell with your brother if you wish. They will keep their deal, it is a contract, a bond; they have to, for it is written.”

But out of some kind of protest she said, but did not want to say, but said it anyhow, “Can I come back, will I be able to?” (As if she was having second thoughts as if it wasn’t over and her mind wasn’t clear on the issue.)

Then, her second-self, told her mind loud and clear, for the second time: ‘Realize Eva, devils lie, ghouls stretch the truth, they will simply keep telling you what you want to hear, postpone your interests, if you go, you’ll never return—demon: generalize, delete, distort, and call it complete and pure truth! And as for the seer, she is simple their false prophet, one that has many faces, born to be used.’

Said the seer, in a volcanic voice, “The child in you is dead, now dead, you were submissive, and there are more spirits that want you— willing to do whatever you wish, they have made you their goddess!”

And she thought, deeply thought, ‘…with them there is no opposing once in their hands, their grips; God forbid. When does more sin, buy anything worth while?’

She looked at the moon, it was only one, and she felt good, and she knew the husky voice did not have the pulling power he once had. Then the husky spirit dragged her brother by the hair, all around her, like a flying vampire, said the voice, in an echoing tone, “Did you know Eva when you laid in the courtyard your brother was among the many that put fire inside of you? He was a twin-snake on top of you, he likes being a snake.”

‘Oh,’ she thought, ‘if it is not desire they get fed with, it is hate they wish to have in place of it… or revenge, or cripple someone with hurt, and then say they are sorry, but only when sorry is no longer an option, it s as if they cannot help it.’

Eva knew there were many watching for the pleasure of it, many that swept over her, but had no idea her brother was one of the many, never thought he would have allowed himself to be one—and she noticed he nodded his head—‘yes,’ he was one, she needed no more confirmation.

Then the seer, just like that, disappeared, “Ah!” Eva said aloud, “she’s a ghost-seer, and so the old woman burns with lust also.”

((An Interlude thought: ‘It is all a game of deception, and the ghouls and demonic beings have been playing it from the beginning of time…although the demons are more proficient at it—it would appear!’) (For even King Solomon who had power over the demons, had to seek God’s wisdom in dealing with them.))


Said the old husky voice, “Ronda the seer will be back, the dead are ripe for this…she had you in her other form.”

Eva looking at the moon, there was only one, not five now, as they had troubled her before.

Said the old husky voice again, “Come, follow me, it will not burn, God does not look down in Sheol, so He will not see what is happening, it will be pleasure, with the door shut.”

But Eva hated this voice, this maddening horde of ghouls and devils, shadows and shapes, and all; now she hated her brother as well, hated them all the same—they were all equal, no innocence, for they were all near the same, if not the same—and she knelt where she had stood, and started to pray.

She prayed loud and clear with sobbing tears, wounded she was, yet she cried to the high heavens, past the moon. Half uncovered she cried, and the ghouls and demons and all the unholy ones, the awful spirits left her sides, was no longer by her, they could not bear to listen to prayers to the Most High, it burned them like fire, it made them crackle and crack from the inside out, throughout their bodies, like flickering fire, it scorched their unholy essence, psyche, core.

Shame and grief had burned up her love for her brother; and her being was now hollow, voiceless, “Let fire eat fire,” she cried, “I am alive like the dog, and the lions are dead! Let there be a season for everything, and let this season end!”

Hearing this, long black shadows shouted, mimicking her, and turned the valley into an empty echo: stillness, no wind: as if a little tornado had come and chased every shadow out in a last hurrah—as if an angelic power had swept them away, swept them back into bowl like crickets. And a voce said, “You called ahead of me?” (It was as if an archangel had heard her echoing voice.)



Half Moon

Chant of the Ghoul


The grinding of teeth of the shadows, ghouls, and demons could be heard in the dried-up sea-cliffs of the moon, all the way down to earth’s surface; had some one taken time to listen that is. The shadows and shapes and demons were drinking blood they had brought back from fresh graves upon earth, dancing and stomping their hoofs about the airless plateau, into the crumbling sod, and dust: drunken wits with desires came over them, as they continued their chanting and singing and grinding their teeth, gnawing at one another like wild beasts, rats, in a bloody feast, as they looked over the edge of the moon, waiting for a new participant, someone to open a window so they could crawl in and do their dirty deeds, and the husky demon was waiting for five moons to pass, again!


The Chanting Demon


There was tides, ripples, drowned around the moon, and the demonic being with a husky voice, called the Chanting Demon (the very one, Eva endured) sluggishly, cast his eyes down to earth, to the courtyard of the renowned Castle Eliz, in the Mosel Valley, his power had been zapped, he was regenerating. He whispered to Ronda the seer—transported via, telepathy, “Our lustful ears and icy fingers all await the waves and currents of a new message from you, and bring us someone who wishes to visit the land of the dead, we have loving spirits waiting!”


(And then you could hear him laughing so loud, it echoed from the moon to kingdom-come!)

(And that is how it was, during one season of the fifth-moon.)

Parts one and three provided here, part two deleted.


End of the Poetic Prose (Prose Poem)

Notes by the author:

“I have traveled up and down the Mosel River, (in what was known back in the 1970s as West Germany), and throughout the valley area; the castle I am referring to here is Burg Eltz, it is back in the hills on the other side of the Mosel River, probably the only castle you’ll ever walk down to. At your first glimpse, from the cliff, you can see it. It is far from the river and road, perhaps that is why it was not destroyed in past wars. It was build near the time of the Dark Ages, around AD 1160. Henry, son of the Duke Henry the Lion of Saxony and Bavaria lived there from 1129-1195. This poetic prose poem was written at Barnes and Noble, Part I: 2/15/2006, in poetic dramatic prose form. Part II: 2/16/2006 #1213; Part III: 2/17/2006: #1214 [Half-Moon, and Chant of the Ghoul. Reedited 8-1-2007; reedited 9-2009 (light introduction added, part three modified, part two deleted).