Marc Lee part 2.

» Posted on: September 20th, 2016 by admin


Upon reaching the Capital Marc was led swiftly across the square and on in to the basilica, through cavernous hallways, museum like by way of their assortments of transparent boxes, and not dissimilar to the citadel he had visited on Titan, though seemingly without the reptile warden. Now within the dying Hierophant’s chamber he unveiled the winter Incantor from the folds of a shawl, regaled him with his troll of the distant morning star, clear-sniffing the crisp sands of a desert world where one day he may return, and was paid with a carton of chemical-free cigarettes. Later that evening, Marc and the Mad Banker would toast unto the future Hierophant, fat upon roasted pear.

There woven between the pitchlessness, lupine crowned night, in a castello cellar corner, in a qliphothic cranny, Marc spied a triangular doorway; then soon after found he had passed through, descending, undaunted, the winding  stone steps toward the subterranean Capital below. Here the pixelations of the parking metres peered back at him and  a great pyramid assumed the Barycentre. Therein Marc floated. The eye’s presence was ever pervasive inside. Unable to obliterate this annoyance, Marc decided to make himself even more so ubiquitous as to contain the eye within a globe composed of his multiple selves. Soon after his phuba transformed, becoming a golden caduceus that bore him back to the jagged paves that scaled the terrestrial Capital above. And hereon our intrepid hero capsized the scoured smirks tessellated upon the perps and cast them and their zap-happy handlers back down in to the Serbonious sludgesome bog from whence they first splattered forth. The resultant vortex plunged then sputtered as it collapsed, lifting the innocent life once tattered. Back and towards the Greenwood Marc and Our Lady turned, shining amongst the field crops the more; experiencing, experiencially, votives of sheer gnosis.

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