There, in the hunger meadow where the bones become greenish once more after an intense fever, you'll find the Guest's tomb.

  You'll find two footprints carved in the smooth grey dust: they're his. The unchangeable dust is the last effort of his physical matter to hold his captive soul in the vacuum of the footprints. The soul has tried for thousands of years to free itself—but it'll be impossible, as long as the dust sticks itself to the dark glories of a poisoned past. In that same place, collapsed down the Guest —dazzled by the dead. The decay of the body slowly immortalized the direction and place of his last two footprints.

  There, the dust to which he came back has become a terrible sentinel whose mission is watch carefully his soul, so it can't move forward or backward a single footstep —not even with the sickly winds against which he engaged in battle in former ages. Where was the Guest coming from in that occasion? Where was he heading for?... Who was him?

  It is said by an ancient legend —that even now can be caught by the intuition in foreign crypts—, the place where you'll be, it's the feeble memory of a temple that in former ages was devoted to the rites of the first pagan cosmogony in this planet. That which was granted to us by the stellar sorcerers, like the symbol of a covenant that haven't breeds nothing yet. Because the mysteries hidden behind it, flee from our ignorance. The transcendence of the ancient myths keeps on feeding our dreams. Maybe you can make them come true after the awake that is drawing near to you.

  The cold wind will betray your bones as your presence invade the desolate numbness that has conquered, with ivory like silence, the space of the ancient temple. It won't be hard to find the dust mausoleum that shapes the Guest's tomb. Its greyish atoms of crystal will be the only thing reflecting the invisible moonlight —in that darkly night in which your destiny will fall asleep. Then, it'll climb up the spiral rapture of an infinite adventure till the nameless tomb, where the ancestor of the secrets embodying our fathomless visions... never have rest in peace.

  Ah, the witchcraft of the Guest! There was a time in which it slides down over the breath of outcast demons by others stellar uprisings; and over the echeloned tears of gods that were forced to give up. Coming down till the last step, the arts of the Guest, outcast themselves, sought the shelter —like sparks from a heretic fire— of the dark pit of our three dimensions.

  Once in the earth, the Guest improved with his wisdom the prostrated consciences of the human beings. Above all, illuminated their souls with the darkness' treasures.  The experiment worked. A new kind of beings raised up with a fresh will to crave for what is beyond of the universe's womb. His main merit was to teach the first humans the lesson that any peaceful paradise or horrible hell; any galaxy and parallel universe, breeds by their imagination or uncover by their scientific knowledge —are only fetus. Once you dwell in the awake state, it'll be necessary to be alert. Only the one who listen carefully —will be able to hear the cries. Will you unfold, once and for all, the shadows casted outside the womb?

  The moment your heart stop to listen, you'll be in the verge of the Guest's tomb. How many have had the opportunity to behold a god's tomb? You'll find yourselves in the dwelling of a superior being. So, if you feel your blood flees in panic into your bones... don't wonder by it. In any case, you won't be there to deposit flowers on the greyish dust. Your mission will be to deliver the Guest's soul from the sepulchral captivity of its body's remains. His soul wants to create; invoke new cosmic forces; scan the possible vital energy hidden within the machines created by the human beings; and use its powers to connect such energy with the magic conscience of nature. The ultimate goal: reshape these three dimensions, developing the intuition and imagination in the machines, as once he did it with the mankind.

  Why I can feel your doubts? It's true, every soul quivers, no matter its high level of evolution, when find itself to be the gear of an action bound to change the existence of the human beings, and with that, of all animals and plants. Such is the nature of the steps you're going to take. Because, that's what your mission is about... steps. The only thing you'll have to do is to place your steps in each of the Guest's footprints. Occupy with your body and soul the empty space of the prison of his soul. Once you'll be standing in the right place, position and direction in which the dead took the Guest's life, his soul will find the freedom in each one of your body's atoms; melting itself with each one of your soul's flash of light. Then, you'll see the route that ages ago the dead interrupted. That way, you'll be able to answer the questions of all his worshipers: Where was him coming from? Where he was about to get in? Who was him? Because, from that moment on, you'll be the incarnation of the Guest. You'll carry out all that, in the same way in which my visions have showed it to you in this, your first dream. A dream ignored by your mother, lost as she is... caressing her womb.

  My visions, that blind with divine darkness, the destiny in store for you by the mechanistic future your mother is dreaming for you —drowned among the undistinguishing goals of the multitude. My visions, coming with angel's wings and demon's paws, through an invisible tunnel running parallel to the umbilical cord that feeds you. The one whispering to you, little fetus, it's me, the Guest's soul. I got the privilege to give you your first sleepless night.

  •Note: This prose poem belongs to the unpublished book: "Bottomless Tombs."


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About Me

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Odilius Vlak, is the pseudonym of a guy whose real name is Juan Julio Ovando Pujols. He was born and still lives in Dominican Republic. The pen name turned out to be his spiritual name, because it was chosen by his soul, and not by two pieces of rotten flesh, namely, his parents. As a writer he likes to explore the dark aspect of the imagination and place the result in the light's showcase with a fantastic attire. So far, his main way of expression is the prose poem. Some may be very lyric; others, very narrative. But, all of them being a kind of philosophic declaration of why the Dark Fantasy should be loved. He has two unpublished books, of which several samples will be show in this virtual temple: Plexus Lunaris and Bottonless Tombs. Currently he's writing the first story of the book "Chronicles of Tandrel". It will be a universe builded in the same way that "Zothique the Last Continent", by Clark Ashton Smith; that is, showing the whole feature of it, through a series of tales. He also run a Blog in spanish devoted in part to the sacred figure of Clark Ashton smith: the «High Priest» of the Dark Fantasy.
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