Part Three
By John Pirillo
When last I stopped the interview, Lord Graystone had been talking with me about how his father and mother had met when he went on an archaeological expedition to the Demon City, which had been raised from the depths of Kwan Chi, an island off the coast of the mainland of the Chinas by a dark wizard for the purposes of using its inhabitants to terrorize and control the populated world.
In retrospect I have to admit that's a lot of information I had no idea about. So the idea that I am creating these people is not fitting the pictures I get getting from them. However, I should also say that in a further interview with Einstein and Tesla, (That one's still in the burner.) I learned the possibility of overlapping realities. Not in the sense of dimensional overlap, but rather mental. Meaning that it's possible that I created the Baker Street Universe from my side, but that from its side, it created me and this world. Boggles the mind. But Tesla, who is an avid reader of spiritual literature, along with Professor Challenger, Conan and Harry Houdini, as well as his good friend Einstein, all think along the same lines that perhaps the Creator...invisible intelligence...whatever you want to call the Divine Light that has created everything from the beginning...perhaps it gives us the free will to also create ourselves in a sense, not just in the sense of building a life of experiences, but perhaps also in building actual worlds to experience within.
Again, it boggles my senses to comprehend the size of such a notion, so instead I will fall back on the pretense of just being an Interviewer, and record now on paper what the next section of our interview was.
"Lord Graystone." I began in our next session. "You mentioned you had a father and mother who met in the Demon City, which had been raised from the depths of Kwan Chi, an island off the cost of the mainland of the Chinas."
"Yes. That's correct."
"May I ask then how he was able to survive such a raising and the further decline and dissolution of that island which you mentioned to me after my recording device powered down?"
"You may. His expedition was a military one, as I hinted. Seeking to root out the evil that was being raised there before it could become a solid foundation for power consolidation by that Dark Empire that sought control over the Europes and especially the Britains at that time."
"I see. How large an expedition?"
"Ten men, my father and...Another man, one you've read of, I'm sure, in your own literature."
"Who might that be?
"Solomon Kane."
I blanched for a moment. "How's that...?" Then I stopped myself.
Lord Graystone, the Jungle Lord, gave me a friendly smile. "Be possible? Not any less than that I exist and you exist from my viewpoint, that is. You see, Mister Pirillo, on our side of the universe, the Baker Street Universe as you have so aptly titled it, you are legendary as well."
From that point I must admit I was not only surprised, but flabbergasted. Me legendary? In order to absorb the immensity of that statement, I pushed on past that remark. "Ten men, your father and Solomon Kane."
"Yes. Solomon was a great man. Is a great man."
"Was and is?"
"He lives."
"Where?" I asked, almost afraid to get the answer.
He gave me a sly smile. "I am not at liberty to disclose that information at this time."
I sighed. "Well, I suppose that's fair."
He nodded his head, sealing my agreement. "Unfortunately, for the ten soldiers, none of them returned alive."
"What happened, if I may ask, of course?"
Lord Graystone sipped at the tea I had refreshed for him. His eyes sought inwards a moment, then he leaned forward. "By the time my father and Solomon reached the depths of the island, the evil that had slept there had been released, as all feared, which is also why Solomon insisted the Queen send no more than the ten."
"Why any at all?"
Lord Graystone looked sad for a moment. "Great men sometimes have to make great sacrifices. Without those brave souls Solomon and my father could never have reached the Dark Temple in time to stem the flow of evil that was flooding the island and soon the world."
"I bet that would be a great story to tell."
He nodded his head, his eyes misty a moment. "I believe it would. Bloody well would." He lapsed into a bit of cursing. He sat up straight again. "I apologize for my boorishness."
"Most certainly understandable." I told him. "More tea?"
He glanced at his empty cup and I poured more. I shoved the honey bear closer to his hand. "Excellent honey to sweet it if you've never tried it."
"What is honey?"
Then I was in shock again. "No honey bees?"
"What bees?"
I explained to him what they looked like, how they flew and spread pollen to help fertilize and spread plant life. He smiled. "Ah, I see, you mean dragon flies then."
"Flies?"
"No. Not the common fly. Dragon flies. They are the same size as your bees, well, perhaps about twice as large. They have no stingers, but they can bite quite nastily. They spread the pollen of our world."
I had a lot to think about. A nice bit of information to add to my own stories, and with it being real, would add depth to the story telling as well.
He added the honey after fumbling with the bottle for a time. He almost popped the lid off with his fist squashing it, but I caught him in time. It would've burst showering him and his splendid outfit with honey. I might have lost a new friend had that happened.
He thanked me, when I showed him how to open it, and then smiled. "So simple. I must tell Wells and Verne about this so they can make more."
"How well do you know those two?"
"Oh quite well. The Lady Shareen and I dine frequently with them and their wives in Paris, when they are there."
"That must be very interesting."
He laughed. "Oh, you don't know...what's the American term for it...the third of it."
I didn't correct him, but I did laugh with him, and not at him.
"Now, back to your father. How did he meet your mother?"
His eyes sought inwards for a time again, and then he said. "He did not meet her. She met him. In a vision."
My turn to be surprised. "But if they only met in a dream..."
"Only not just in a dream. It only pointed the way to her. You see she was to be sacrificed at that time to the evil being unleashed."
"I'd like to hear about that."
He suddenly went very solemn. "I'm afraid I must end our interview."
He rose to leave.
I scrambled to figure out what I had said wrong.
Finally, he turned to me and smiled. "It's not your fault. The fault lies in me. I am still too close to the deaths of my parents. May we continue this interview another time?"
I inclined my head.
He headed for the balcony and before he leaped off it, turned back. "Death is not what you think, Mister Pirillo."
And with those final words he leaped off the balcony. I ran to see where he had gone, and saw him swinging from ledge to ledge like a monkey on branches, until he landed on the ground below. He looked up once to see if I was watching, then nodded his head and leaped to the building nearby and began climbing it as effortlessly as a monkey climbs a tree.
And so I end this third portion of our interview, hoping that you are as eager to hear what he disclosed next, as I am to tell it.
Until then, I remain
Your friend, author and interviewer
John Pirillo
P.S.
Part Four of this Interview will be here tomorrow. Watch for it! How the father and mother met and under extremely dangerous circumstances!
No comments:
Post a Comment