Cup Poured Out in Offering
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The ulitimate sacrifice.
What will you give of yourself to achieve this greater desire?
"My right arm. My eye-teeth. My soul.. it's yours if you but demand it!"
But that is too easy, Magus. Anyone can give those things and they're but a paltry trade in comparison to what you seek. So.. what will you give me?
What will you give of yourself to achieve this greater desire?
"My right arm. My eye-teeth. My soul.. it's yours if you but demand it!"
But that is too easy, Magus. Anyone can give those things and they're but a paltry trade in comparison to what you seek. So.. what will you give me?
I've laid my hands to the talking board, round and round the planchette seems to move itself in endless, winding spirals and figure-eights. At least two of the cardinal rules broken, to be sure. And yet, I am drawn to press on. For I must have this knowledge.. this power.
"What will you take in trade? I have nothing greater to sacrifice than my own soul."
There was no answer. The planchette ceased to move for greater than an hour, despite my continued supplications.
"Please! I must know!" Again.. a gnawing silence, to the point it nearly vexes me.
On the opposite end of the table are two cups standing side by side. Each filled with wine, one is for myself. The other.. belongs to Alexandra. My wife of less than six months. To say that I love her is an understatement, for she is the nearest thing to my soul, and the only person whom I have ever allowed to come so close to me.. ever since the Great Plague of Faltha.
"Tell me! Tell me what I must give, and it is yours!"
It was then in that deep foreboding silence that my answer came. Not in the movement of the planchette beneath my fingers, but in the spilled cup of wine. Alexandra's cup. A deep red claret poured out in libation to the floor below, never to be tasted of again.
"What will you take in trade? I have nothing greater to sacrifice than my own soul."
There was no answer. The planchette ceased to move for greater than an hour, despite my continued supplications.
"Please! I must know!" Again.. a gnawing silence, to the point it nearly vexes me.
On the opposite end of the table are two cups standing side by side. Each filled with wine, one is for myself. The other.. belongs to Alexandra. My wife of less than six months. To say that I love her is an understatement, for she is the nearest thing to my soul, and the only person whom I have ever allowed to come so close to me.. ever since the Great Plague of Faltha.
"Tell me! Tell me what I must give, and it is yours!"
It was then in that deep foreboding silence that my answer came. Not in the movement of the planchette beneath my fingers, but in the spilled cup of wine. Alexandra's cup. A deep red claret poured out in libation to the floor below, never to be tasted of again.
