Chapter 16: FRESCOED CEILINGS
Gathering myself, I came down from forty feet in the air, finally. I was tired of flying and levitating, so I floated down unto my feet at the start of all the empty land, and the instant the bottoms of my porcelain feet made contact with the ground, the ground itself came alive, as if it was breathing, as if I set off some invisible alarm.
I was startled.
I was nailed to the ground where I stood, panting. The land itself rumbled. And what presented itself before me was extraordinary.
A huge infrastructure began to rise from the ground. Gigantic dust clouds rose into the air; monstrous dust clouds that reminded me of smoke…
Two gigantic pieces of its inner frescoed ceilings, and the concrete ceiling itself, divided into two sections (adorned with Egyptian hieroglyphics), slammed into each other without causing any damage.
Smoke, thick, with a long twenty foot train, snaked around the building. Flashes of blue lighting thundered from its core. I felt like I was at Harris Field on Campbell Drive in Southwest Miami-Dade watching the Fourth of July spectacle, and realized that there was a world beyond the repression of life faced for many that couldn’t seem to catch a break, no matter what walk of life ye bought thy shoes. Try wearing thy bed sheets as thy attire so thy bedroom indiscretions didn’t follow in thy footsteps. A closed mouth didn’t get fed, but an open mouth wound up pregnant instead, and I was talking about myself, and the weakness of my flesh, another obstacle I had to conquer.
I was used to sleeping with the richest and wealthiest of tycoons. Those type of wealthy men hadn’t even heard of Wal-Mart.
Sometimes ye had to yield thy opponents if ye expected a U-Turn in thy life. I wished that was the case right now. If I could cause the Wolf Tribe to yield, expecting a U-Turn and reversal of their decision to make war, instead of love, the ancients would hang my gorgeous picture in a gilt frame and place metal grooves unto the nail beaten into the marble wall with invisible frescoed art enticing the flesh, right next to the most tyrannous vampiric Queens in vampiric history.
And there were only two Queens.
Armona (the Old Order)
And yours truly. Me. (The New Order).
Once the infrastructure was together, like a huge Transformer taking on its alter ego form, the All-Seeing eye [blinking, gazing, glancing and staring] was at the top of the infrastructure, a breathtaking affair with many columns, and humongous spiral stairs leading into the earth, and the dark, and the deep.
Just then, as I approached the fifteen foot glass double doors, with twenty four karat gold handles, I was hit with the gift of melody and song, that left me bewildered and confused.
I spun in circles; pressing the palms of my hands hard over my ears.
Kleopha’s dreaming! came the voice, and that couldn’t be right because the voice that filtered into my ears wasn’t the voice I heard earlier, that urged me on.
Kleopha’s Soul was dreaming through Armona’s eyes.
Out of the blue a whiff of a foreign scent invaded the perfume of the atmosphere, radiating from my exhausted body.
I was instantly on guard, leaning back on my right leg, extending my right arm in front of me while slowly twisting my hand like a renowned belly dancer, raising my left arm, artfully, like I did this for a living, and I hadn’t a chance in hell if I didn’t stay on my senses.
My babies were asleep.
I knew they were.
They were floating inside of my womb.
Beautiful orange and reddish hues shined on my children; on the opposite side of the darkness that sheltered and protected them, penetrating the deep. But the light of the abrupt jerk of my muscles, the instant evil presented itself, would catapult me towards its heart, and rip it from its chest before It could harm my unborn.
This wasn’t a way to live.
I thought my life was harder when I was a vampire.
When I get baptized, would my dilemmas and problems intensify? Would the Devil tempt me with my heart’s desire, exposing my inner most secrets and sell it to the highest bidder for half of the market value?
If I was a lover of men, and wanted to take my pick, at my convenience, and for leisure, only, and I gave my life to Christ, would the Devil send more exotic men my way, the cream de la crème, to tempt me back into promiscuous sin?
Would they be the best the earth had to offer? Men that came at a price, and men that charged a fee just for conversation.
Since I was abandoning thirty-nine billion dollars and my seat on the throne as acting Queen Mother, claiming my name was Alicia Chay, I had some things to think about, and some things to consider.
Was I ready to hand my power over to my anal-retentive Council? If I did it’d be doomsday in record time. I was already flawed for making decisions in another woman’s body, in another woman’s skin.
I must confess that Armona’s body felt good on my blemishing soul, bleeping, vanishing, disappearing, spoof poof spoof went my spirit; I was trapped, abused, used and confused. I sung the blues, reshaping golden arches and hues.
Was I of other various, random colors?
How could I possibly do Christ’s will if I, my soul, inhabited Armona’s body, keeping the bitch, I meant the has-been Queen under systematic control?
The one overthrown and buried inside my biological flesh by yours truly, the body I became familiar with, too familiar with, mind ye, for my own good.
Superbly, I swam throughout her pores like a security blanket floating on an ocean of thy choosing. Elegance was the texture when I explored her body before I betrayed her…
Let it go! The voice commanded me, and I still held onto unwanted grief. Hell, I was a simple woman; now I was seventy five percent human. And I had to wonder would my new life, after I was reborn and became a full-fledged human for the first time since I was born Kleopha Achieng, be a complete waste of time?
As a struggling evangelist that had to get a nine to five job, reduced to peasantry, must I have enough glee and happiness to comply with God's commandments despite outside interference when I target others that art losing faith in Christ?
Was I required to inform them of my vampire past, and to tell them how I came into the knowledge of Christ, even though I would be scraping table scraps for dinner, burdened by bill collectors like ordinary people?
You’d think by dumping the old principles I believed in, sometimes worshiping myself, for the new journey I was on would be overbearing, but for now it wasn't.
Ye was totally converted through the mustard seed of faith living in thy black heart, in that microscopic crevice just to the left of thy left ventricle, that ye hadn’t known lived in ye, ever in thy life, until ye met Doneshius…