The Vanishing of Father Hessmas and the Appearance of Host the Mother

Two shadows met in the basement of a 22-story skyscraper and conversed in an all too human tongue. They were human and in an unlit corner they cast a spell of shadows to distant eyes. One was a female’s and the other a male’s for one’s laughter chimed and the other’s giggled.

The beginning of the conversation was inaudible.
Upon sharpening of the auditory sense, he seemed to reply:’re right, I don’t believe in god but... in goddess I do. I but take it you do!
You mean that in plural? No, I don’t. I mean... in god I do.
You mean in plural?
For urban folks we are rather tribal!
Humor me, darkly!...
So too was the ending of it.

In a celestial sphere – the heavenly abode, a timeless dimension, take your pick – stood Hesse the Forgotten also known as Tsar Hesse, alongside his rangelic companions Topsy and Turvy, and observed. Time and events merged there and in a blink dispersed. If your dimension locked and unlocked, having nothing better than a human mind you had your perception paralyzed in seconds unless there had been an intervention of some sort.
He’s my archetype. I don’t know if she is… perhaps she’s an inter-archetype! Or they both are.  Lkoioifaskljl kfjasljfio lgklasjl!
We once did elope from here if my memory serves you right... or twice! Oijlfa kuioufol ajkljgoiasu ljaklsjdfio!
Stop being timeless, said Hesse a little worried. Even a small event needs much scrutiny. It’s a solace I am not part of it.
Searwsliocdrds kgeredarabcxcvad. We are, confronted Turvy, so did Topsy, but she put it are we.
I am, but sans control.
Somewhere amid the pile of symbols a form stirred, but could not move, like from a pile of memories a thought would. What fibers it was made of, you could not say. The texture of its life, you could not feel. This much was certain, since it was partly formed, that it was held captive by more than one violent form as two thoughts would one. It stirred again but stayed there again.

The house of Turve had a peculiar shape to it as if it were a bell hung from atop. On the right, a footpath from Leizure Woods led to it and on the left it connected itself to the two-lane in the front. Turve appeared on the doorstep clad in a T and a V upside-down, looked up into the clear blue sky, took a deep breath, frisked his left pocket (his pipe was there), and his feet very gently took the stone path to two-lane. His barefoot kissed the ground, one step then another. The scattered sand tickled its nerve endings and his mind formed a thought: Does walking barefoot make one appreciate nature better, he puzzled. Shit he said as if ashamed of an invisible mole. He stretched his neck back; his sight followed a shooting bird up to front. The lane looked abandoned; a zebra crossed a little further. He thought: It would be splendid to ride it. How some desires never fade with age! Silly me, he said.

Athena like a statue alive sat on the bench of Mira’s Hit and Run seven’s ground cross-legged and fingers crossed. She ran her fingers through the fur of Tyger who was neither belled nor leashed observing the lion at one time and the lamb at another and meowed every time there was less silence than usual. Her Dig Pad vibrated and upon touch it read: I’m on my way. Don’t you walk out on me! I never stood you up!! Late *x* She grabbed Tyger by her belly, stood her on her lap, and blew the fur that danced to a warm wind of human source. See a flying rat? She addressed pointing to a bat. She bounced from her lap and on hinds chasing, fores clapping went after an infinitely faster bat. I am forgetting bells, she remarked in her mind.
Who’s got a draw board on poles at the center of a playground, Latisha quizzed as she strode and sat on the wooden bench beside its only occupant. Hai, Atie. Sorry if late.
Hi, Late. Never mind. It’s Rie with a hand of his own on a play-board, Athena cleared the air with a smile. She forgot she smiled and smiled again.

Fifteen or so years ago. A few girls all, except one, in frocks gathered one fine morning in the Please-Do-Steel Orchard (thus read the board). The skinniest of them all held a guitara and it appeared she couldn’t wait to lay her hands on it. They stood in a circle and the healthiest of them all (every single one of them were but this one had an additional weight to her) whose familiar name was Feline cleared her throat and said: Here in this borrowed space our sisterhood decreed. We shall forever bond together. I shall never squeal on you over a talking cat, a golden apple, nor the sweetest boyo. Every one taking their turn said I shall Never Squeal on you. Athena who unofficially made sure every one said it forgot she said it at all and said it again. The strings were heard. We shall sing our favorite song said Latisha, and they sang Here Is a Story Untold and a Path Less Tread by a frock band called Love and Buckets. Nafish said more than once that’s not her favorite – and Turve affirmed, though once, it is his – but joined the singing unhesitant. Later she said I think I like it now. Feline pulled her not-so-long-stick from behind her shoulders and fell an apple, took a bite, passed it along so that every one took a bite. Belli said hmm! It’s yummier than yesterday’s. Then they went ahead and played Hit and Speak in that orchard that was corner to corner illuminated by sunbeams in its extravagance.
The same day, but in the noon, a bunch of boys had a fellowship in the same orchard in a different spot…

Doing what!... And the kiddies around... they, is it flip-flops on his feet, eying to get hold of it! Latisha quizzed again, her back against the support, hands across her chest. The T that she wore read I’m not What I’m Inside. She smelled more of honey than a bee ever would.
They’re taught... He’s writing, I assume, how to form a contrary sentence from the preceding one, Athena cleared again, bringing her hands over, cupping her crossed leg’s knee. She wore a crimson three-fourth, smelled more of sandalwood than its carrier ever would.
So do I hear Rie found yet another subject of affection to cut his teeth on? I bet he bites it to its resurrection. Do I guess right I’m conversing with his all too benevolent tutor, Latisha smiled a corner and took a glimpse of her companion’s blushed face. She always enjoys it if it’s a blush of expression, instead of a gloomy stare, after a tease or a prank.
Hah! vibrated Athena’s cords.
They looked into each other’s eyes reading signs and one thought in succession yes, maybe, no and the other maybe, not yet, yes.
The eyes disconnected and fell into staring blanks. Athena wanted to worry about Tyger even if she couldn’t.
Latisha brought her legs up on the bench, hands across her ankles, chin between her knees. She studied a lamb that was unsuccessfully attempting to wake a sleeping lion. There was silence. Athena un-cross-legged, leaned back, studied the snoring lion, feeling a pimple on her temple with a finger. Silence ensued.
Look at him! How does he do that? Latisha broke the silence. Tyger having returned from her venture, held the bat by its ear between fangs, and having displayed the prize caught unscathed, let fly of it.
It’s her specialty. It’s... it’s a her, Athena proudly replied and corrected.
How on... on Dom does he... she, oh! Do it, queried Latisha.
Patience, right? She spots a bat, you find her on hinds first, then on hindsight she pretends to attend to the details on the ground. The bat always swings by. She lets it go a few, reckons its range, in one of those returns she crouches and leaps, and on her leap to landing you see she’s got what she leapt for, Athena explained as briefly as she could.
Such a trickster she is, Latisha approved.
Tyger wandered off again. The unavoidable silence fell in again.
Are we here to talk about that thing I think you want to talk about, Athena broke it this time.
Atie, Latisha came to her feet, it’s something you got no clue to. Nope, not that yet, and broke the ice. She stretched her back and then her neck. Shall we take a walk or pretend to look for Tigress as we do this?

Turve walked past the hedge. Right, he cried leaning on the bench with a hand, the other holding the pipe stretched out indicating here I’m. Right turned, smiled, made a V out of his middle and index fingers, then wrote another word on his play-board. The kids, as he turned, looked at his turning head and then his flip-flops.
How many twos thought Turve. He sat himself on the bench the wrong way and searched for dry weed. He reached out and plucked some, and sighed as he realized they were half alive. The shine is erratic for a pleasant day he heard a voice say.
It’s dim-to-bright as if the weather-lady turned the low-voltage-day sign on, Turve agreed.
I’m to do a bit, then will wind up. Do stick around, Right requested.
Will do. But have you a convex on you? Might do to dry leaves and lighten up, Turve asked, pipe on one hand and weed on the other.
Sure, here you go, Right handed it over and looked into the sky. Can crawl if walk you can’t!
Turve smiled, ...and go you up and hurry. And De-Will flip-flops says you lost your mind as the day broke!
Piss off, will you. Forgetting footwear is all, Right snapped and hurried. It was ordinary to barefoot the street, not flip-flop it.
So, can you tell who’s the opponent noun, Right asked the kids. The board read:
She who is maybe a goddess says she must worship a god
Sir, aren’t it supposed to be a it or an what. You doesn’t say a word a he, a she, or a who! A kid inquired.
You give respect to be given it. It you don’t want it, you don’t oughta, answered Right.
That will be all; we call it a noon, said Right and began folding the stand and the board.
I’m afraid, Sir, not yet, said a kid. The rest stood by the sayer.
...Well, you can go ahead and do what you want on your own, permitted Right, can’t you.
Not really! This here thingy on your feet need a release, the kid said, and a one-way trade done right here and now, confidently.
...But, this is a De-Will flop, he stuttered, ...flop. Then upon reflection, sure, you got it. How will you then... I mean, you’re five here.
Leave that to us, a voice said, and: I told you it is, and: It’s the opponent noun.
No, no, said Right, think further.

The first time Turve smoked a pipe – which was five years ago, he had it between his lips all along between puffs imitating a madman – after three lungfuls, smoke in his nose and eyes, he projectile coughed the pipe flew a mile. This time around, you stood there – the floating whiteness unveiled the dimension whence through the fraction of a gap Topsy sprayed the Antitoxin Dust – and saw him doing the same, but he sneezed in paroxysms. This stuff is too filthy for me, said Turve who by now gathered his audience. This fella is so unpredictable, said Topsy to her audience, and you thought you hallucinated her.
Time and time again haven’t I told you bite a Logic Mushroom, Athena rebuked him.
…And so that makes me throw up and sick to my wee fragile stomach, Turve said still sneezing.
All the same, better-off-weetotaler. Since when has empowerment meant illogic experi-mentaion, she stressed throwing one of her tantrums.
Listen, Domans, the internal herbal baptism of smoke, said Right, is providence for creative activity in my humble opinon if not for a wanker’s recreation.
Said he who so effortlessly loses who knows what, Latisha said puffing out of Turve’s pipe.
The so-called free Domans rot in their self-made so-called paradise, cursed Athena. Tsk…
The four began walking. When Turve saw the bunch of kids baring their teeth for him, he broke from the group having had a thought flash in his mind.
There’s a game you never woudhaf imagined you could play, Turve addressed the kids. Game or not?
Tells us it involves loads of funs or nots, blurted the kid who held one of the flip-flops.
Aye, not loads, said Turve. Loads and loads of it!
The others buffalo-walked to where this deal was happening and stood encircling the remote dealers.
Oye, us does no deals for nots nothings, said another kid firmly.
Then you asks us whazit that yous wants, offered Turve a prize.
The kids had eyes that observed a nothing for a something, and one of them said: This thingy on here cedar missy’s foots. Another said: And ones thats on the maned missy’s.
So it happened, after Turve’s endless persuasion on how critical the deal was, Latisha bereft of her sneakers and Athena of her sandals, they all walked the rest of the way barefoot.

I believe I’ve done my best in picking the toys up best suited for you venture, Right said satisfied. His secret lab the four entered looked more a rest room, or a lab converted into a rest room, than a lab.
You could make an orchard if you did sell these thingies, said Latisha with a big grin.
I haven’t even begun, began Right, and it makes me wonder what damage it would do if it gets up there!
…or you could be one of a few who’s giving same imagination forms, said Turve.
Precisely, but that’s beside the point, said Right. The point is what I want to do with these.
...and with your ever shape-shifting perspective, Athena challenged.
I tone down and stay grounded, and you of all people know it, Right defended himself.
Sure, my young man stays when I chain his feet down, came Latisha to his aid, smiling.
Athena wandered about and came to the corner where the Planet Pad was. She waved Latisha for the aid.
You remember from those days, Right addressed Turve, the Funny Dreadfuls we get from across the river? They come as a fruit-shake too much expensive these days, some of them quite impressive still. Wait… he stammered, …this villain called Rodentman who lives in a sewer. Remember?
Faintly I do, said Turve, ...who’s mistaken for a hero. Who... hmm, fights an ascetic and all?
Exactly, continued Right. This fictional guy who’s a pauper sells destructive goods to masses to gain wealth and fight the authority. It gives me creeps... the masses own new means to destroy its own authority.
It’s just fiction, Rie, consoled Turve.
Temple, screamed Athena. Wow! It’s spectacular. Where is it?
Earth, said Turve with a pitch to it from where he was. ... but, keep it down, will ya?
Cons-piracy crap, chided Turve, and at once left the room.
He always... always goes cranky after he says it, regretted Athena. So, this is that Silent Blue Ball From Far Away so close, and she left a big sigh of relief, running her finger on the Pad making an imperfect circle.
Turve showed up again, collected his goods and said, I want us a moment by the hall, to Latisha.

The first night passed sleepless, Turve keeping watch all along it, and nothing happened, so did the second and likewise. The days he was either out wandering or at Right’s. This was the third night and the optical illusions he experienced at the last hour of last night magnified, then he stopped fighting his lids and fell fast asleep, the needed arrangements set up in front of him. The Rare Pipe was sat on the glass stand and its vicinity had an air of strangeness to it but in the dark minimized. In a while, there was heard a thud and a patient struggle but in his depths of sleep he thought he imagined them and grabbed the cushion tight and on the couch further into the night slept. A few hours into daybreak, Turve had his biological alarm ring and the first thing upon wake he saw was a partly dressed-up stranger on the couch opposite. He said: silly me, went on to put the kettle on, turned it off for lukewarm water, took a cloth, wet it, and wiped his face with it. Then he took a manicure, trimmed his eyebrows for there was neither mush nor beard to; took another cloth, held it by the tap, and wiped his face.
Is it Mr. Claws I’m trying to wake up?
...aawwe... I prefer Father Hessmess, young man. Mister?
Turve. As you wish. Thanks for your patience.
Rather, I envy yours. I had sleepy hands... now I have it again.
You may let go of the pipe, Father. I have need of it still.
If you say so, Master Turve.
Is it you who locked the window?
Am afraid so.
Well, before I up-trap you, I want things made clear. Is it a grave error to change the course of a custom?
I’m afraid not so. Only to destroy it would be.
Turve unchained him and said: You may well be my guest here a few days more.
What damage do you intent to cause, young Turve, may I ask?
Nothing earth-shattering. Don’t ask. You’ll know when you’re no more a guest.
How many unlocked windows did you lock yet this year?
This was... was supposed to be the first.
Good. And why?
The shape of the house was welcoming.
Pleased to.
…and by the way, do you cook?
Huh!... as best as a man can.
Grand. Because Da’s craptured. Ma’s hunting this time of the year put up in a tent.
You mean your Ma cooks?
You know the salad, like. And that’s all me needs. Make yourself at home, and if there’s a habit do shower, after the tea and all.

Fifteen hundred years ago. The Dom was at its Bright Ages. Its art flourished, streets were filled with high-bred horse manure (it smelt never better they inscribed), women looked taller and had more flesh on their bones, though men were tough to marry off. The women ruled but the men were consulted. In the Lordess’ Court gathered the officials and four men were brought in concerning an allegation.
The hours ahead are busy, hence may I address all you men as one, began the Lady in robe.
Very well, Highness, said in unison four voices.
Did you or did you not take invaluable fruits off the houses you are accused of have taken?
I as accused have, Highness.
... Why have you?
I have in order to begin a custom, said three of them. I have in order to marry off my son, said Sr. Legloves. And I may humbly add I began the custom in question the year before only to glorify the Highest of our Gods Tsar Hesse, in a voice of patience.
The three were persuaded they do not do it again for Sr. Legloves is its inventor and that he alone shall carry it on unless the custom is halted for any, mysterious or natural, reason in which case a noble soul might substitute it.

In the dead of night, as the Dom slept through its weariness, dwarfed shadows of purpose moved here and there, aiming for the windows open.
During the day, two of out four Sanity Clinic had their shutters down on which the board, in porcelain, read Clinic Full with Thought Patients. A florist owner walked the distance holding a package that read Gift from Claws, dropped it by the lane, correcting his pajamas read the sign, added to it Without Me!, stood there motionless until a Sanity Carrier picked him and tens of others gathered there up to the next clinic.

In the Quarters met the head, Noseitall, chief, and lead. The head said in a troubled tone, this is beyond belief, and brought her fist between her upper lip and nose, atrocious, crying shame, left a sigh of horror, it’s no longer taken. What? It’s kept. Centuries of magic undone! Who did it! What did it!! How on Dom did it happen?. What’s been happening these few days? Ms. NoseItAll cleared her sore throat. Head addressed her, track the trails down, bring a dustbin down, chase a ghost down, I DON’T CARE. This is what I give you, with her spread hand held between her face and the addressee’s, and that is five precious minutes. Noseitall took the Chief with her and the Chief took the Lead with him. They gathered in her quarter and drew trails A and B and pinned it on the wall. The Chief took the Lead with him. In his quarter, he said to Lead in a quiet tone, she’s mighty right, Claws doesn’t visit houses in order rather one in this street and one in another. She’s also right that there must be a pattern to his visits. I must be right to assume only these many houses were visited before his evaporation. And guess what!...

At Turve’s, Claws was doing the dishes listening to Concubine Free. Turve showed up in the kitchen. He looked accomplished but weary.
I hope you liked the fruit cake for breakfast, Claws acknowledged him his presense.
Very much, and everything else, Turve said much obliged. It’s been dandy having you around.
You say it like I’m off, do you? Said Claws partly relieved.
You catch a drift like it’s flu, humored Turve. Very much, and at this very moment I would add if I may be so rude.
Claws nodded his wise head. He came towards Turve wiping his hands off and said, Young Turve, I’ve been meaning to ask you this before I leave. This is that your Old Man, you do not look so convinced that he was craptured, are you?
Turve felt his heart skip a beat. He felt his whole being shrunk to emptiness. He cracked knuckles and brought them to the back of his head and pressed his skull. Then he rubbed his forehead and said, See, I want you to leave, I got a prep to do, without meaning it to be harsh but not knowing at the moment how else to put it.
It’s... it’s fine. You see, I’m talking like I’m seeing you for the last time, said Claws, in a tone of empathy, and asked, May I have your Pad, Turve?, stretching his hand out.
Turve gave his Dig Pad to him and remained calm.
Any time… any time you want to talk, you know where to find me, Claws said, as he scribbled on the Pad. And he left the place through the window he came, leaving it open.
Turve unlocked the window and stayed in there for an hour that felt like a day.

There was a bang on the door… another bang… Turve pretended he didn’t listen… then a creak-crack… Turve fought in his mind opposites in the form of yes or no to shoot to the back door… a clank… then came an illegible noise. The door was smashed down. Amid its ruin stood a man with a sinful mirth on his face. He behaved as if he was all by himself though he had a team of four SNAT’s about him. So here is my prize – the Dom’s rotten genius, in a voice of thunder. Here I come to show you daylights in a dark room, he cried. Turve having anticipated the breach haven’t anticipated such a breach and its chief. He stood there overwhelmed by the weight of the event preceding this than this, he forgot his weapons if he had them. A fist came like whirlwind and met his chin; he let his passions go and screamed ahh... feckkk. Another met his abdomen, he thought he died and a part of his life in the form of blood splashed from his mouth. He fell to his knees and wished he had more hands than two to comfort his violated parts. There he thus stayed until an unnatural light caught his sight. Or for that matter the rest of the town’s.

The apparition’s original intent was to pay a suspended visit over the Brotherl, a wise madman later said, but it was sighted by a kid at Sell Your Steal located at the east corner, by a girl reading Kiss or Spill on a terrace at the west corner, a pet dog chasing a sleepy panther at the north corner, all the cats slept they said, a man about to enter the Unusual Bookstore at the south corner all to whom – and those who stayed outdoor, every single one indoor came out driven by a spontaneous go – it was a personal visitation. Every one gazed the Mother like through a giant life-screen, absent 6D glasses, with naked eyes. Masion peed his pants the six-month kidney stone. Paresh wept his tear glands dry first time after sixteen years. Aliban gave up her born-polygamist belief. The 70-year-old born-blind Nadia saw light, colors, and truth. Bimanan took an oath when he grows up he will not become a Brothern. Turve holding his breath and pain almost crawled to the street, knelt, took a glimpse of the Face, got up on his feet and thought I will never kneel again by force or will and I found my true self. His tears of joy emerged and he smiled like a baby would cry. He was no more pained that day.

Latisha caught the scene in front of her uncle’s house where she at the moment was in front of which was Athena’s. Their eyes met in sheer disbelief and both thought for a second it was a shared REM dream. Athena, captured by a sensation of rare occurrences, it was known as whaw, that ran from her bosom to knees, said W…H…A…W, turned hyperactive in no time and before a violent act fainted. Not because she had prayed all noon, and the past few, and binged on everything on sight but because she couldn’t remember how to spell Mother when she saw a real one, or the too-real a one.

It’s open, screamed Latisha at the top of her voice hearing the knock on the door. She had herself on the rocking chair as relaxed as she can be.
Miss Latisha Bhavani, inquired a visitor upon entry.
You’re beholding, Latisha presented herself head up from its rest. What brings a young lady and a lad in uniforms to my presence? From the corner where the kitchen was came a clangor that made her shout, What are you up to, Dad. When did you last cook coffee? She turned to the visitors and fixed her attention on them that indicated the suspended question mark.
You’re wanted for the mischief of the eve, said the lady sternly. So-called mischief, added the lad.
I am looking for the 6D Pad all over, sweetheart, said dad appearing in the hall. He grew an expression of What witnessing the uniforms. ... and did you tell me we got guests for supper?
I think I did not, said Latisha, the visitors paid attention to her dad’s appearance, and she ran her fingers successively over her hands as if feeling her second skin. Then said, do I have the right to inquire on what grounds?
On mysterious grounds, Miss, said the lady dismissively. On your feet, she added, and put your hands together, approaching her with her chest up. Latisha did as told. And she had her hands cuffed.
Now what, she asked with an unheard of politeness.
To the Chamber, where else, the lady answered. Is that... sweat on your face? She asked mockingly.
...Oh! Shit, well, I honeyed my face... and I must wash it off before late. Allow me, please, requested Latisha.
The lady smiled a corner and said, you may be allowed it but not do it, knowing full well the possible dangers of the captive on her feet, cuff un-cuffed. Find a cloth and do it, she led the lad.
Dad came to the aid, at an opportunity asked the lad if he would be willing to find the missing Pad which the lad politely refused, but the lady would not let dad do it and only the lad, during the process of which Latisha gestured dad to go in, feeling the wet cloth on her face. Do be back in time for dinner, said dad.
Latisha studied the street unblinking as she was let out of the door, the next moment closed her eyes and imagined Athena praying, then she unblinked again. Am I gaining my divine-or-crap femininity, she thought. Listen, she begged turning and facing the lady. I cannot be taken this way, holding her captors hands with her cuffed hands.
Her dad called out from the portico. The lad and lady turned to look, at the precise moment in a matter of few seconds the captive did this: she let go of her grip, rowed her uppers in the air, the cuff was out and on her fingers through the camouflaged slippery second skin; she second skinned and cuffed the captor, gripped the lady’s wrists, brought a lower up, kicked her enough on her belly; the lady flew a few steps back, the skins on this side, she shoved it in her pockets: the captor cuffed.
I said be back for... dad stopped shy of dinner.
The lad stood frozen at the turn of events.
This occurred: Latisha took right and ran, clumsy at first, gathered pace and lifted a pole off the shade tent of the Music Muse shop, then another, and turned back as if ready to run backwards.
Get her by her dirty pony I said, screamed the lady. The key... where did I...
Latisha did a quick sprint, javelined a pole that hit the ground two steps short of the approaching lad, the other end finding its mark on his head. He fell confused which bought her a few seconds.
Then she did this: she turned holding the other pole and shot like an arrow to the end where was a ten-foot wall, slowed her pace a bit, vaulted herself, caught the top of the wall, stood on it and looked the lad gathering his pace; the loose brick under her feet gave way, and with the brick to the other side she fell.
The lad reached the wall, said damn. One moment he thought he go pick the pole up, the next he was climbing the wall. On this event, and observing more akin to this, an anthropologist later would remark: Boys climb walls or trees not to compete with girls but because they like it.
Latisha landed on her fours, and it ached. While she collected her faculties, she heard: ain’t you a nasty piece of work. She came on her back, and he had already jumped. She brought her leg up, hip flexed as if unwelcoming an unfaithful lover. The lad, despite his calculations, crotch-landed on her leg – he whined like a stoned bastard, but more determined in his action than his looks suggested – and gripped her throat. He said, bittersweetness, it’s sadness you can’t grip on me with your softness like I can on you with my... triumphantly, and tightened his grip on her. Her throat choked, her lungs fought for air, and her hand was elsewhere. Phatt came a sound, and it was stone against bone. She kicked him away, leapt on her feet, brick on her hand. The lad, as he tried to stand up, screwed his face and by the looks of it he had his medial collateral torn in two, and he would soon be braced and won’t run for weeks. Latisha dropped her weapon, still breathing hard said, only a wanker whines, mother-oriented.
The lady found the key and pleaded with dad to uncuff her but he wouldn’t do it unless the Pad is to be her priority.
Latisha, recovering still, wobbly on her feet hit by vertigo, but after a few paces, toward the twilight through the wood – like Adma, her Great Mother – like a fierce deer fled.

Turve walked leisurely to the nearest SNAT Quarter. Albeit what occurred and what he just did took the edge off of his agony, he was beginning to worry about what may transpire after this; nonetheless, he told himself this is the way I do it and put his mind to it.
May I be granted a visit to the Head, he asked the official.
I am afraid she’s extremely busy. I may be at your service, he was answered.
See, this is of utmost importance, Turve said half-heartedly. The Chief and his team is cuffed and locked up in a spot only I can tell where.
You mean... what? The official stammered in disbelief.
My system needs a pep up, Turve intruded, I may do well with a fine drink, wearily and dragged himself to the nearest chair.
The official alerted the rescue team, and Turve was provided a Purple Hit.
...and, Sir, I did it, Turve revealed sipping the drink and added ...I turn myself in.
There were two officials now who took no offense to the One captured. Turve continued, I offered the Chief a twin Hessmas band. He refused. I could only convince him to sit on the chair. I offered the bands to the team that they were pleased to wear. And the chair was a lock-if-you-get-up one, he said looking at one official. to the bands, you can guess, looking at the other official.

I’m coming, said Athena, hearing the knock. Tyger kept going round and round her feet, it took her half a minute to get to the door. Coming, I said!
Where the feck is Turve, came a voice that was catching its breath for the thousandth time. It was Latisha’s, and she stood there with her Pad that was dialing Turve. She showed it to her host and snapped, what’s happening? The nerd won’t pick it up... too... huh… you busy Miss Cat-taker. WHAT IS HAPPENING?
Athena’s granny showed up and went right back in.
Late, won’t you step in? Athena said in a voice that pleaded. See all the mess in here? Tyger went berserk after the incident. He has been since he woke up.
Latisha went straight into the kitchen, grabbed a Get-Your-Aid, sipping it she said, like you did, chicken. Only with you it was before. Where. Is. Turve. She snapped again.
Unlike it was to be, he turned himself in, said Athena biting her teeth. He couldn’t explain himself to me. It wasn’t like I was approving of it.
Oh! I see. The sneaky cat bells itself and can’t say why it did, mused Latisha. I’m the rat-taker that said run catty run.
Are we going to do something about it? Athena asked, a little worried seeing her companion’s musability.
It’s not we, affirmed Latisha. I am. You stay put. And if you don’t, and try something like your better-to-be-half, I will knock you unconscious as you spell Mom backward.
...Then I want you to call Rie right away, said Athena. He would want you to. It was I who brought it about in a manner of speaking.
So much for your binging, Atie. Did you call me after Turve called you? No. You want me to call Rie. Why should I? said Latisha, to which Athena responded in empty mute winds. Rie isn’t supposed to be in it, neither are you. If this much isn’t clear as a mountain to you, Hess save you. Then Latisha left.

In the Head’s Quarter, Turve sat in the middle surrounded by its occupant besides NoseItAll, and Chief. The Team that was cuffed just had their say and left, everyone with a smile of approval for Turve.
...Do I need to answer right away, said Turve, or if I can take some time to? Clear-headed, you know.
Mister, there’s not a moment to think, said the Chief.
You may as you like, said the Head, throwing a glance towards Chief in the passing. And remember it’s not what we want you to do with us, rather what you want to.
Turve, neither grim-faced nor smiling, said, I will think it over.
Those inside heard a commotion and the locked door began to shake. When they looked through the one-way see-through, they recognized a violent being whom Turve knew for Latisha. She was iron-shafted and her aim was the latch, all the while a crowd around her trying to pacify her but every time failing. The chief, to capture at least one worthy catch, hurried to the door, opened the door, and screamed – the shaft took his foot for a target – and limped like a ton weighed down there. Others came to their feet, as Latisha said sorry not looking at Chief, and Turve said, Late, you’ve got to go easy now. I’m just fine.
Latisha screwed her face as though her mate was a vermin, and stood there shaft in her hand.
Clear it here now, said the Head, unmindful of Chief’s misfortune. I need to have a word with this fine lady here. Turve gestured he will wait outside. The lady, having catered to the lad in the Flesh and Bone Clinic, entered the Quarter, as the others walked out.
You say it as is, or you know where you go, said the Head, and the lady had a big smile on her face.
For what it’s worth, all that you know already is what was, said Latisha without a fiber moving in her face.
So, it was your 6D Pad projecting the apparition, said the Head playfully. Incredible!
Latisha nodded her head in approval, yes, and yes.
There you go then, said the Head. You know where?
...No. I haven’t a clue, puzzled Latisha.
Why don’t you explain it to her, said the Head to the lady. After all, she was to be your catch.

The next morning, the Chief in his abode found his House of Love replica missing but found a Pipe on his stand. He demanded his spouse he be taken at once to the Sanity Clinic. Turve in his abode found his Pipe missing but found the House of Love replica which brought him warm memories, and how he missed Tops. He made up his mind at once to reconcile with his old buddy who, he thought, had he been around these events would have taken a different turn than it now awkwardly have.

Fifteen hundred years ago. Two men met in the shade of a backyard.
I have not words to thank you for what you have done for me, said one of them.
It’s for His glory, Sr. Legloves, said the one who only the last day presented himself as Legloves to the Lordess beside three others.
You may be immortalized even long after you’ve left the Dom and craptured, said the perpetrator. I may be free to carry on the Custom that I began which you aided in your grace.
All for His glory, said the man. I am to leave Dom this very night. You shall be in my prayers as I shall be in yours.
For His glory, said Sr. Legloves. I shall once in a year take what is not ours but His as a symbol.
A gust broke and with it storm clouds brought a heavy downpour. The Dom flourished.

In the celestial sphere, Host the Mother sat on her throne in a long time which had been vacant ever since a constipation of consciousness down below. Tsar Hesse discussed his altered centrality with his companions both of whom firmly said he must reconcile with his other self.

Two shadows met in the basement of a 32-story skyscraper.
I am to Hit and Run, said a voice that had a stoic tone to it.
I am to SNAT, said the other, in a voice that never forgave itself from that moment on for a long time.


Why This and Not That!

This is by and large to hone so use-less a skill - narratives, dialogues, and all that falls between...