FREE ONLINE NOVELS...............................................................................................BENYAN'S FREE STORIES
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Just as restlessness sets in, the van pulls into the camping ground and spews its contents out into the forest. Tumbling youthful flirts of girls and boys giggle down a soft and sensuously-green embankment. They find that a path winds down the side of the valley; and into the heart of the forest, where tinkling shenanigans of streams babble out their story for all to hear: falling,
falling - we're open and lost - fresh Marvin marvels at the way that at each look, the green seems to get greener and greeener. The sheer green of it all becoming overwhelming . . . euphoric . . . cloying with raw emotion. |
Gasps... swells of feeling gather inside . . . breath caught up in the
heart with the effulgence of greeen. In a stumbling awe-struck daze,
his feet manage to walk him down deeper into the valley, his whole body,
mind and soul under the control of some electro-magneto-psychic field
of forces. His passive awareness a passenger to the journey. The path
and river meet and cross over at a Waterfall called the Madonna and
Child. It's cascades fall from over an hundred feet, with tall ancient
rocks on either side. The ever changing green of the forest gathers
around the cool of the bubbling pool. A comfortable verdant nest around
a sacred shrine of Natural birth. A warm crevice in the lush body of
the Earth's heart.
Marvin looks up and notices two of his fellow trippers: Wolfgang hanging from some distance up the waterfall by one hand. Jo stands behind him, she grins at him; they are both quite high. With a sudden start Marvin remembers the two golden rules of LSD: 1: You cannot fly. 2: Don't introspect, or >look inwards< i.e. stay out front in the world. |
To
distract himself from their precarious arrangement up on the towering
waterfall, Marvin turns his head in a moment of insane vertigo, and
looks at the ground, where he finds an onion plant; which is promptly
uprooted in surprise. He digs his nail into the onion flesh. As the
green-white-ooze tingles a golden little bite on his fingers, he senses
a most peculiar vibrating through the fingertips. Prying further - he
uses both hands to peel away at the onion, layer after golden glowing
glistening layer . . . until, penetrating to its core, he destroys it
completely, and flings the remaining pieces in all directions.
Marvin's hands and arms begin to burn with onion juice; biting into his skin until he screams out; "Help I'm being eaten by onions!" more in surprise than in agony. Negos rescues him by plunging his arms into the water to wash them. But somehow for what seems to Marvin like a very long time, the tingling gets sharper, like thousands of tiny fragments of glass penetrating his skin. Then it subsides. Gaze into the falling water; falling, falling, then crashing as it hits the bottom; and now gently flowing past his fingers, and the rock beneath them. The maroon moss suddenly moves - it breathes - pulsing alive with a golden tingling touch... and then the pulse seems to echo through the rock; which lives so conclusively, beating and throbbing beneath his frail figment of form. For a moment Marvin is lost in the eternity of rock... |
How many moments are in eternity?
Patience is one moment balanced on the pinacle of eternity. Laughter is eternity encapsulated in one moment. Marvin looks at the waterfall as the river flows through him, the feeling of lostness intensifies in a timeless cascade. He becomes enthralled by the fact that each drop of water plunges for only a few moments, yet the waterfall itself remains constant for centuries, if not millennia. The rocks are so ancient, and yet his life is barely noticed by them; a mere scampering human who imperceptibly blinks past them in one micro-instant of an existence. Marvin's perception of time seems to stretch and flex uncontrollably. His soul straining at the limits of his bodily perceptions. His very sense of self, becoming likewise warped through time. And space . . . |
Predator.
Tiger on all fours . . . . pacing over the rock; quickly, intently.
He sees Wolfgang who now sits with his back towards him, and so Tiger
begins to stalk. Tiger notices that Wolfgang is quite plump and will
make a good meal, his teeth tingle at the smell of flesh. And the oddest
sensation: the sense of sight is profoundly different . . . where movements
can now be traced more easily, and the internal visual picture of the
world can now see many more different movements at one time. The entire
arc of vision is wide enough to observe half the forest at one glance.
He is able to somehow focus clearly in many places at the same time...
and the body becomes so aware as to be constantly alert... skin prickling...
ready for any sudden movement. He lopes forward with true feline vanity.
Majestic. Beautiful. Perceptive. Insatiable life. The Earth is soft beneath my caressing paws, as I pad-pad-pad beneath the shadows of bright-wet leaves. Eyes flicking from side to side to side at every bird-flit or leaf-tinkle - watching for a movement that is more substantial. Aromas of fresh growth, afterbirth; blood-of-a-monkey-feast . . . Gunpowder! Stop. Ears flatten, and legs crouch lower to the ground. Listen for man-chatter, or any other banter. The man-smells are manifold - the gunpowder is old, but there is a newer human smell - different to the usual sweet and sweaty stench of man-flesh. |
Clattering
a little way off pricks up my furry orange ears - and pads are quickly
in pursuit of this newest game. What strange smell? Yes - certainly
human, but so clean . . . Hmmm, tantalising unknown tremors on the tips
of my teeth infuriating me, tingling my desires, promising the taste
of dreams; delicious as the sound of screams. Aah there it is - towards
that shaft of light that illuminates the drinking pool. The Earth is
indeed generous when she delivers her meals at a jungle pool. Allowing
for a good drink or even a swim afterwards. Brushing against the bark
of a tree, running the ribs smooth - sensuous just for me. Hmm, and
there she is, purest purrs of furious furs, just for free.
What a sacred pleasure this beast is, her young brown skin, almost naked from fur. Just a smooth neat wrapping, presented in the softest shredible skin. The earth has offered its most edible meal, which is sooo delightfully naked. And those young limbs, well-fed and plumpish with such thin bones that soon will easily crumple, like dead leaves. Yet look how well she moves. Each pace is perfect placed, easy graced. Aah, such a kill this will be, and she will squeal when my soft nibbles burst her fleshy bubble, and the warmth of her thick blood fills my throat. Aaah such treat, such pleasure sweet. My tongue will swallow her fear, her spirit, her girlish glee. It almost seems to be a pity, but never was such a meal, ever quite as pretty! |
Up
the side of the waterfall, Marvin sees Negos and wanders over to him
. . . he is writing something on a piece of paper . . . Marvin is perplexed
because he can't read it, nor is he able to speak, he just makes meaningless
sounds. Its an odd feeling to realise the sense in not making sense,
and continuing to do so all the same. . . then a brief moment of hysterical
laughing somewhere, and suddenly a peculiar popping sensation, like
when descending in altitude or pressure, where one's ears and mouth
equalise with that feeling : pop.
Marvin can sense a peculiar >chime< coming from somewhere off the path. It seems to be calling a tune that sounds vaguely like words, vaguely like a name; but it rings with the sound of tiny bells from within his spine. Listening beyond the sound, almost as if he has earphones plugged directly into his nervous system. Marvin hears the rhythm of another being resonating through his core; and it is summoning him; beckoning, and taking him. Marvin looks to Negos, and it feels like he can hear him thinking. It feels like ESP ? ! ? - Marvin is stunned by the clarity, and also the intensity of the communication . . . unlike talking with idea -words, its more like their minds leak into each other uncontrollably. He feels an intense moment of discovery that people are not locked into their bodies in the manner he had previously believed. |
Marvin
slips inside himself, and falls out, into some else-where-ness. Some
other awareness, elseness, weariness. Astonished!
Marvin is a young girl naked by a pond; feminine, young and beautiful.
. . But oddly he can see the back of himself, with the sense of vision
of a stalking Tiger . . . Impaled
upon his own insignificance, he retreats off the rock, down to the depths
of the mud below, watching the river of time past flow.
The water seems not to be falling really, more like clawing its way downward; pulling at the rocks, fighting to the bottom to join the icy glitter of the pool. With a sudden explosion, billions of brilliant lights of water splash his face . . . something slippery slimes between his fingers... brightly illuminated, brownly beautiful; mud-in-a-muddle-puddle. The ooze pulses in his hand, breathing its life energy, tingling the fingertips, so that they feel as though they may burst with some weird cold flame. It feels as though his very being is slowly melting away - plunging inwards through the mud, below the bottom of his world, and the bottom of his mind. And something clicks together, and he realises that he is about to undergo, some sort of transformation, and utters "If I am going to do this, then I'm going to do it properly", as he strips his clothes off, and prepares to enter into the icy waters of the wintry flashing pool. Having not had a swim for many years. |
And
then an intense all-consuming fear passes over him, and Wolfgang takes
the shape of the devil, with a wry wicked grin, and goatee-bearded menace.
Marvin freezes in an obliterating fear, that he had never before felt.
All at once his mind conspires him to believe that everyone around him
is about to catch him and kill or castrate him! He tries to flee in
a wild senseless panic, then feels suddenly trapped . . . as an enormous
shadowless white-winged form settles over him. Its immense unimaginable
power, beauty, intellect and compassion, surround him as his struggles
weaken. He succumbs.
In an explosive blast, voices loud and clear burst through his mind, too quick or too intense to be understood because they're not words at all, but more like images, ideas, thoughts, or even bits of consciousness. Flashing past him like a torrent or fountain in all their horror and splendour. All his hells and realities, figments, fragments and masks; deceits, lies and guilt washing up over his scattered and decentered unfocussed awareness. Rocks breathe beneath his naked feet, and the forest alights around him; each bush or tree, or even leaf, has its own inner light, its own living soul; each leaf >giggles< with warm anticipation at every move made, seemingly transfixed by his movements, as though they are watching a fireworks display. And it feels as though the top of his head has become nakedly open, and the layers of his selfhood begin to be stripped away; before the almighty embrace of the ancient, and wise rocks and stone, and living leaves; and the momentary flickers of drops of water tumbling down the waterfall. |
He
is taken through a kaleidoscope of life, though somehow not even realising
the majority of it. Yet the trees happily consume all which he does
not, detecting the flashing display of etheric fractals emanating from
the core of Marvin's being. He becomes shakingly aware of a Divine presence
within. It feels like a mighty half-seen Angelic force above and behind
his mind; a warm life force surrounding him; Saintly and soulful, helping
him as he faces himself
in all his naked truth. Answering the endless questions that rattle
through his head, answering their confusion with perfect clarity.
Often, the Angel gives answers before the question is properly formed in his mind. Often giving answers to questions that follow on from questions that haven't even been asked yet, long before they even begin to vaguely take the form of words. The Angel imbibed the knowledge into his mind at such a rate that he could not quite see even most of it completely, but caught large glimpses of truth that emanated inside him, available to ponder and explore even long after the ACID left his system. This truth was not in words, but rather in idea-forms, not really even images. It was as if the knowledge was always >within< him, but now it flooded his mind-vision with such a force that overwhelmed his ability to understand it, making him feel quite ashamed of his ignorance. Yet still this ignorance was being lifted in a swarm and flurry of awakening. And now he could gaze at truth; although always with a sense of trepidation; and watch its precious bejewelled substance wash over the strands of his mind. |
And
more shame or pain filled him as he saw himself, fists raised above;
pounding, again, again, feeling his face mush and squish beneath his
fist; then suddenly the pain is in Marvin, more potent, and with it
comes the mocking laughter that sinks its talons of humiliation into
the spirit, hard and callous as the face is pounded. And the lesson
of the futility of war relearned again, yet it is now magnified to the
pointlessness of eternity, for ultimately, if one fights, it is only
oneself who one defeats. Then Marvin notices Jo, and it is as though
behind her body is an enlarged reflection of her inner core; as there
is behind him - and as he looks around, each of the others also has
enormous reflections behind them, guiding their movements - reflecting
their vibrations - sensations, essences . . . and the back of his mind
talks to the back of Jo's mind even though both merely look at each
other. He feels the inside of her mind with an inner ear; it feels as
though they interact behind the face.
Their two personalities, the Butterfly and the Dragon dance a cosmic conversation that resolves and revolves around an existence so beyond this lifetime that they are as long lost friends delighting in the changes that a few aeons might have made on the Spirit of any particular Soul. The rocks and trees and brightly lit plants saw much more of him than he himself could. Awareness. All thoughts are not as private as we like to believe. They are real. And all our thoughts mingle and interact with each other, though we may be completely unaware of this happening, as most of us have our etheric eye closed. And so remain locked within our own inner chrysalis. |
Laughing
wafts softly, playing in and out of the sunbeams that stretch and straighten
in the warm sunshine. Marvin awakens in a young boy's body, about ten
years old, and he feels that he is amongst his tribe who are adorned
in simple grass skirts, or loincloths. All around, the warm green jungle
glitters in the sunlight. And then he realises that they're laughing
at him, and he sees Wolfgang, who is the Chief or Patriarch of the tribe
laughing loudest. Marvin realises he is lying on a woman's lap who feels
like his 'mother', (though not his real mother), and he feels her sense
his tenseness, and she says "don't worry it was just a dream",
and she pats his head . . .
Now he is an adult, again in a jungle scene, but can see the others who are also tripping as if they're far away. Yet, there is some slightly visible barrier separating them. They are wearing what looks like strange clothing, that clings to their bodies . . . strange for him, for he is used to wearing a loincloth, and not jeans and T-shirts like them. Marvin is consumed completely by the greenest part of the greenness. And they are aliens, and He is the Soul at the centre of the Earth. The Entire Earth in all its purity, and they are the invaders, the bringers of conflict, war, pollution. And so the Angel asks if he has got anything to say to the aliens. And so he says to them "Get the fuck off my planet!" in a calm detached sort of way. He feels as though he is the only living entity on the planet, besides the conflict / evil / city / stench / pollution. |
It seems though,
that he is one of many planets, just a local little rock in the Galactic
neighbourhood. And that all planets only have one real inhabitant;
or that is the way it used to be, because for now he feels invaded,
and alienated from parts of himself. As the shadows that hang on the
world, still hang upon him . . . heavily as a thick and over-humid
sullen atmosphere. Alighted yet uncomfortably on edge. He is back
at the waterfall, and |
A
giggle at the thought of death complete; utter annihilation. What an
impossible concept. Its like saying "I am dead". How can it
be true if I am saying it? "What
now?" Marvin asks the Angel. It answers that he can forget the
whole thing happened, write it off as a bad trip and carry on with his
life the way it has been. Or he can choose. Choose to believe, and make
a difference to himself and to the world. The choice is handed to him
as simple as the difference between up and down. It would be ridiculous
to ignore the feelings within.
Where he had lay down defeated, he now stood up with purpose. He observed Karma, something he had previously denied, living in a world of survival of the body only, so morality had not mattered, only survival counted. Now that immortality lay bursting from his insides, all the backlash of suppressed destruction had to be reckoned with; destruction which he had caused in a futile bid to survive as a body. Now that the fear of bodily death had been conquered, he faced his shadow; the dark side of the self, which can never be conquered because it lives only in the past; but one can find peace with one's shadow, and see it for what it is: a shadow, something which is behind you, if you face the Sun. And the larger portion of the burden of guilt / fear / shame, seemed to be suddenly surgically or spiritually removed by the Angel. An odd sensation like a tick of the mind had been pulled off his being, in the form of doubt and materialist death dogma, and all its attached residue of pain, horror, persecution and spiritual decay. It felt as though a dead part was cut a way, and all doubt as to the immortality of his perfect soul was lifted with it. |
He could feel
a type of Knowledge within, which was perfect. He could not doubt
this for it stared back straight in the faceless core of his being
with all the honesty of the Divine, shaming him at every second turn.
It felt as though he briefly glimpsed God. And the knowledge gained
was that our human souls being immortal and transcendent, are originally
born in a pre-temporal reality, and we are therefore strangers everywhen.
Earth is Because we are
strangers we are not completely at home anywhere either, in exchange
for this we are immortal as far as this particular Universe is concerned.
The Angel sang to him a mind-to-mind psyche-song, singing how likely
it is that we may suffer from celestial parasites, half-formed bits
of semi-consciousness that feed off us, and make us forget what we
are, and fight wars, and cause misery to ourselves and one another.
For this
we are to use natural herbs to cleanse us; and especially the seven
leafed herb of peace and knowledge. And the more powerful psychic
activators are to be used by the more brave and capable amongst us
to perceive the hidden workings that lie within the conscious fabric
of the world. |
And
the Angelic Being imparted the meaning of evil:
All life is full of joy, only the most noble of Angels can remain Angels in the pits of hell, but pain and torment are only faults in us by virtue of our incapacity to see past them. No pain is as real as we make it out to be. Even the most persecuted, still have the choice to have a soulful inner chuckle at the mindlessness of those that torment them. Which is worse? To be the victim or the persecutor? If one is the victim, then be glad to know that one can teach the tormentor dignity by not showing fear, and giving them the word or the look or the prayer of truth. For evil was put in the world for us to pursue and conquer; it gives us our moral and spiritual momentum. Yet be aware, for a spiritual war is not a war of blood, except the blood that bleeds from your soul. Have faith and know that you are right. And if one is the persecutor, then one has gained as well; for by facing our fault openly, we will always be able to learn what is then right in the light of the darkness; as long as one wants to. This is the fruit of the tree of knowledge: That good is good, and evil inspires good to be better. Whatever harm befalls you, look to it again with new laughter, the child's laughter within you, and you will see why evil has befallen you; and what lessons it will teach you, and be ready not to fall into it again. Use it to grow. This is the power of learning - the meaning of evil. Without it we could not transcend and cast our past away; without it we would stagnate; without it we would not be the Creators that we are becoming. |
Evil
burns within us, it lures us and taunts us, and we chase it with ever
increasing magnificence; we are its prey, and it is our passion. Only
once we see this; will it
cease to be our master. Yet then again, we will still chase it, for
what else can we do?
"Wait" shouted Marvin as he ran after Negos and Wolfgang, the feeling emanating from his footsteps, how his life must change to dance the etheric dance of impossible virtue. Life would change, the past would always be the past, but somehow he could now be free of it, for he looked to the future. He walked now beneath a different set of rules; good and bad seemed easier to know. Accepting the power of the intuitive mind as equal to the rational. In this way the good / bad distinction disappeared, and he was instead left with the concepts of good and better. This felt like new laughter; perfect laughter; the sound of Angels that reside forever within. These Ancient stone voices, bare witness to the eternal immortality of his soul. Death will be as the blink of an eye between beautiful sights. And life born with these gifts: Patience: a moment in all of eternity. Laughter: eternity in all of a moment. As dawn broke through the darkness and edged its golden green way through the trees, the world seemed normal; and so he tramped into the forest to seek his shoes, for although he did not really need them, (feeling a new sense of non-attachment to things) what else could he really do but go and find them? |
Yet to find two shoes in an enormous forest could take most of the morning;
if they could be found at all. He felt a tinge of despair, but then
a moment later felt the new laughter, and decided to enthral himself
in the search with thorough delight. Another moment, and he looked up,
and there immediately lay one shoe. Strangely and joyfully he walked
on and found nothing, then for a moment thought 'what if it is lost?',
then remembered the sound of the Angel laughing and this echoed to become
an amusing thought of having only one shoe; he then looked to his right,
suddenly, there was the other shoe, lying innocently before him. Then
he heard a sound, and looked to where the others were, and they pointed
to a large brown cow. 'Come and look' they called.
But he was filled with shame and could not approach the cow, because he would be afraid to look into its eye, as the claustrophobia of the cattle-truck and the horror of the abattoir filled his thoughts. And so instead of letting the emotion override him, he breathed easier and decided never to again eat the creature that had nurtured him by giving to him its mothers milk from its maternal breast, as if he were its very own offspring. The Sun seemed to shine warm for the first time in a long time. Marvin became suddenly aware of the fact that despite all his previous beliefs, that the change brought about in him was not because of something in the LSD, though it somehow played the role of a catalyst. He knew that he did not need the LSD again to experience any of the truth which he had just experienced. Another oddly paradoxical feeling, but considering what had just happened, paradox was beginning to look like the natural order of things. |
The feelings of
guilt at having his own sin and ignorance revealed to him, still ached
at his heart. Even though he had never killed any warm blooded creature,
not even a rat or bird; just having been a meat-eater was enough to
feel pangs of pain throughout his insides.
THE BEGINNING . . . |