Disclaimer: just my own clumsy bow, in reverent allegiance to The Twilight Queen.
AND IN-BETWEEN, LAY A MEADOW
-(| BOOK 1 |)-
LITTLE RED PRINCE
I
I Was What I was
I was born from the shadows and my father was called Night. I had sprung from the hollows of a womb most unhallowed. Newborn to be evil by right.
I was a thing of Red and Black: blood-Red my skin; Pitch-Black my eyes; Red the blood I had to drink to feed some life to my pit-hungry eyes. Ruby rivers pooled Obsidian Black in all my limbs and in my silent heart.
For years and years I had lived and thrived in the deep chambers and the caves of my father's palace underground. And though eons had passed and not decades, I looked, still, not older than a human child of twelve or thirteen years of age.
Just like the other fiendish kids my age, I played terrific games, and pulled horrible pranks. I knew all the hallways and found the nooks and cracks where I could hide, and plan, and stage the subtle moves and next attacks I'd launch on unsuspecting adversaries, be they coven of play-along enemies, or the next door retired Old Hag.
I was a prince among the Horned, the Hoofed and the Forsaken and one day would be Ruler of the Savage Garden. Little Red Prince, indeed, of nooks and the hallways should be Black King of the Soul-less one day. I was the son of Night and of the Dark Goddess, I was born to be damned and un-blessed.
II
Pride
I was also a thing of spite and sensitive pride.
And so, one day, pride pricked more stingingly by longer and sharper barb of jest and jibe, I'd responded a bit harshly to older and venerable ancient in monster monster garb.
Father stepped in as an umpire and deemed it fit to act most dire to teach inconsequential scion one thing or two 'bout rank and position. Harsh punishment was bestowed upon the tender skin of my bottom, so that my overgrown ego could humbly fathom - though Prince I was, and would-be king - how low my stool now was at the heel of his throne.
Intent on not stooping one notch lower I reigned in my temper, refrained from usual tantrum and found refuge in that other kingdom of my own.
I roamed the maze I so well knew to find a place, a hidden nook, where I could lick the shameful wounds inflicted to my pride, extract the prickling hooks currently hurting my red hide, and perhaps – perhaps !– have a good cry since I wasn't yet too high – or old – to be above being a child.
III
Little Lord of the Moebius Ring
or Underground lost-boy
Thus I erred and limped along all night – and night down there could mean some while – still fuming, ready to pick a fight, have a go at anything to vent the pent up bile, when suddenly I realized I'd lost my way...
... and started freaking out.
I ran this way and then ran that, turned back, only to face a cul-de-sac, and found no-one on the deserted tracks to help the helpless wanderer except the odd spidery lone ranger and a couple of dumb old bats. Not a soul – or so to speak so far below – to help poor me, their future king, out of his pointless tread-milling along the loops of a Moebius endless ring, and point, obligingly which way the lost kingling should redirect his princely steps to hit safely again his much-missed homely den.
To think I 'd bragged so loud about how well I knew each of these sombre bowels! Hell! Was I small! Little Indeed, and so low.
IV
How Low Do You Think You Can Go?
Someone somewhere apparently decided that was still a place too high for me, my ego and my pride to stand.
And so we took a dive.
I fell – ungracefully – through space, and splashed – quite painfully – into a lake.
The water was cold and dark – colder and darker in fact than the dark things and the cold I'd ever seen and felt in Dad's household. It went at my skin like so many vicious pins, and bit and tore my flesh apart to bury frigid fangs into my absent heart. It sucked the marrow of my bones and all the blood, only to leave my limbs all sore my body limp and without core. The hideous flood numbed and froze me all over, and sucked me right under - so impossibly far! - into a pit of coldest tar.
The lake closed its clammy arms and clasped its cage all around me, opened its icy-toothy mouth...
Waters reached out, and parting to kiss me, ...
swallowed
.
me
.
whole
...
...
...
Songs (just hints)
BOOK I
The Washing of the Water, Peter Gabriel
I/ Jumpin' Jack Flash, The Rolling Stones :-: Born To Be Wild
II/ I See a Red Door, The Rolling Stones :-: We will Rock you, Evian ad version (ou OV by Queen)
III/ They Stone You, Bob Dylan :-: It keeps you running :-: Help, The Beatles
IV/ Down in a blaze of glory, Bon Jovi :-: Cat People, David Bowie :-: ( counter-tone) Octopus's Garden, The Beatles / Ringo Starr
