Notes from An Alien

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Friday Fantasy ~ Number Thirty-Three

The Holy Man and The Evil One

~  It seemed he had been with them forever.

The Holy Man

Image Courtesy of Leroy Skalstad ~

The Holy Man was with the people of the forest but not of them.

He had arrived in the memory of the Elders but was much older.

He tended to their ills and, sometimes, gave wise advice; but, most imagined he had wider powers.


The people of the forest had, many times, tried to elevate the Holy Man to the station of Ruler but he had consistently refused.

They were guided and maintained their organized life through the decisions of an elected group of Elders.


Sometime after the ninth recorded sighting of the conjunction of Isfer with Aknam, one of the men began training a raptor.

He had discovered it lying wounded and nursed it to health.

He had received many wounds from the bird but had, eventually, dominated it to the point where it did his bidding—hunting for him and even threatening others for him…


The Elder’s Council had warned him that he was acting against Nature; and, when one of their meetings with him had been disrupted by the raptor’s repeated threatening swoops, they went to the Holy Man.


The Elders approached the hut while the raptor continued its diving threats.

The Holy Man came out of the hut and the bird flew off…

The most ancient Elder, Smerzan, addressed the more ancient Holy Man.

“Versuln, we came to you for your wise guidance yet your appearance has sent our problem away.”

The Holy Man chuckled and said: “Smerzan, the problem is not the bird. It is the Evil One who has dominated its Spirit.”

“Belrun is not evil, Versuln, he is just consumed with himself.”

“And, what has consumed him, Smerzan, if not the Evil One?”

“The Evil One is not part of one of the people.”

“Smerzan, you know I am much older than you and have traveled from remote lands.”

“I do…”

“I have watched many peoples, seen the ways they follow, noticed a new Phenomenon that permits what you call the Evil One to merge with the minds of certain kinds of people.”

“How can a Force like the Evil One merge with a person?”

“All Forces can merge with people but most people have never noticed…”


The Elders sat with the Holy Man for many hours.

They learned that he had much more knowledge than any had even imagined.

He educated the Elders in the complexities of the mind.

He made them aware of the Phenomenon he had observed—the new Power that was growing in peoples from many different lands—he called it Esteem of Self.

He instructed them in the progressive development of all Peoples—an Evolution of abilities that would bring great rewards as well as grievous tests.


As the moon rose, Versuln, concluded his session with the Elders:

“Belrun is a special person—you will notice more such people as your children grow.

“His specialness is the ability to think things that others have never imagined—he is a Creative and he needs your love to help him devote his singular abilities toward the improvement of the people, not centering them on his own desires.”


Versuln stayed with the people for many more years—helped them with the new Creatives.

Then, one day, when Isfer and Aknam had once again reached conjunction, he called the Elders to him.

“I must go from you now.

“You will develop as a people—achieve success and failure—attain new heights as well as discover dangerous depths.

“Be patient with those who abuse the Forces they discover—love them with a mighty love.

“Others like me will come to your people when your failures have overbalanced your successes.”

Then, the Holy Man vanished…

Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai
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Friday Fantasy ~ Number Thirty-Two

The Befuddled Blogger

I didn’t think fantasy could exist in this world of digital money and vanished dreams…

I couldn’t believe that an unfinished story could just disappear, like a puff of mystical smoke…

I’d been on a roll—about a quarter of the way through the first draft of a story about a mysterious man, “…dark on the outside yet full of light.”…

He was looking for a Monster that gored the young ones and ate their flesh.

He was just about ready to confront the Monster…

And, the story disappeared.

I know how to use a word processor—I had automatic saving set for one minute—I was manually saving at each critical turn of events…

I used the search-for-file function and came up empty—empty at first of desire to write, then empty of the need to worry—try again…

Began a fantasy in the modern world—saved a bit of it—wrote more, saved again—closed the word processor—went looking for the new story and found it—am writing it now—saving again………

Closed the processor, opened the file—here it is…


What happened?

Where did the “real” fantasy story go?

Why is this Real fantasy happening?

Perhaps I should just publish this piece on wondering about a 21st Century mystery and let that one about the Monster roam on the endless plain of conjecture…

Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai
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Friday Fantasy ~ Number Thirty-One

What Is This Mystery?

There is a creature—seemingly ageless—capable of compelling…

It roams all places—through plains and forests, over mountains, and across the seas.

No one knows its name but it visits all peoples.

Its form becomes what is necessary for each individual; though, many folk see it as the same creature.

There are few reliable records of its nature and accounts from individual people can vary upon retelling.

Here are the few fragments we can offer that have any semblance of believability.

My name is August Valli and I am the banker of Rancelle township.

I first met the creature when I was but fifteen years old.

It appeared before me, as best I can recollect, as a friend of mine—Gregor—but not really him…

It changed as I spoke to it, became a darkness, compelled me to follow it down the river bank into the water, where I met a beautiful woman…

August was found in the water and three people did see him talking to the air…

I am Mary of Capilan village and I help the nuns with their duties.

I was startled awake one night last year by a fear that I sensed before me, but only its outline, like a man with no body…

He spoke to me and compelled me to follow him from my home.

I was strangely trusting and found myself, in the morning, in the basement of the church.

Mary was found in the church’s basement—behind a locked door…

My name is not important but you can find it out from anyone in Vauxain City—I was their Chief Magistrate…

The creature is real, as real as rock, but takes on forms to suit its prey.

I met what I thought was my wife returning from shopping but it was far too early—no shops were open and I’d just left her, sleeping in our bed…

She greeted me as usual and compelled me to follow her to the Hill of Remembrance where we had a picnic breakfast…

That gentleman, one Peter Swan, was found in a stupor on the Hill of Remembrance…

I am Bressilia Vougette from Hespas.

I knew the creature for ten years, in three distinct forms—my son, my mother, and a man from a foreign country.

Each appearance seemed completely normal until it suddenly became a void—a felt presence that could not be seen but compelled me to do things I can not mention…

We include Ms. Vougette’s words only because of the fine reputation she holds in her community.


It may be wondered why the few accounts we present as marginally believable are so short.

This is how we received them—they all seemed willing subjects, eager to tell their tales, yet what you’ve read is all they said—each falling deeply asleep after their last words…

What follows is a statement from a man whose opinion we could well distrust, except for the remarkable fact that each of the people whose brief accounts we have shared have met with this man and vouch for his understanding of their experiences.

He was able to have each of them tell him much more than we here record but he will not release his records.

His statement:

I am a Psychologician—capable of determining the inner states that lead to what commonly is called hallucination.

These people are quite normal and are only displaying what all people experience but never admit to themselves.

What they say in their stories is true.

This is all we can report…

Even though we have barely begun a proper analysis of this phenomenon, and even though we have a statement from a proposed expert who in fact did gain the approval of certain people as trustworthy, and even though we may doubt much about these experiences, we are compelled………

Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai
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Friday Fantasy ~ Number Thirty

White Wizard ~ Black Wizard

As he traced the last line of the sigil on the cave wall, it began to glow…

White Wizard - Black Wizard

Image Courtesy of Afonso Lima ~

He meant no harm—had never meant harm—was only taking these actions to protect the people.

They called him the white wizard and his forced retirement was about to end…


At the edge of the forest, another wizard invoked the spirits and cast his enchantment, feeling a thrill of triumph.

The elephant would fly to the forest kingdom and destroy the log-palace—the people would be groveling in their subduction and clamoring for his help.

He stroked the trunk of the beast and thought of the weak-willed white wizard—off in his cave, still licking his wounds…

He made a shrill whistle, calling his beloved bat.


He knew a direct assault on the black wizard would fail—had failed him those nineteen moons ago…

He knew his nemesis would strike in darkness—knew the animal the evil one would enslave with enchantment.

He’d chosen his defending animal with care—smeared the poison on its teeth, assured it would find its mark…


As darkness approached and the elephant’s airborne and appalling sounds reached the people’s ears, the King was cowering in his inner chambers.

All bemoaned their fate—all had lost faith in the white wizard…


The moon rose with a strange haste…

No sounds in the forest, not even the frogs…


A chambermaid of the Queen, on her terrified way to find an herb—forced to leave the palace because the plant must be plucked in moonlight—was frozen by an apparition—a tortured trumpeting coming from an impossible elephant, soaring above the trees…


The white wizard held his defending animal before the glowing sigil—informing it of its mission—then, released it to its task…


The elephant hovered over the palace, terrified in its ensorcelled plight, terrifying the people with its otherworldly screams—the black wizard drooling in his mad control of the people’s fate…


In the cave, prayers were ascending—supplications of intense longing—pleas for otherworldly Aid…


A small animal flew through the chilled night air…


The elephant was straining against its imposed suspension—legs thrashing, ears flapping wildly, trunk whipping the air…


The black wizard didn’t noticed the bat alighting on his shoulder, didn’t feel the bite—his body slumping from the poison…


The elephant was freed from its spell—its frenzied motions imparting a momentum, carrying it just beyond the palace to crash into the lake.


No one believed what had happened…

Still, as is natural, they repeated the story down through the ages…

And, as is natural, they appended a moral:

“The struggle of good against evil is only won when evil defeats itself…”

Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai
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Friday Fantasy ~ Number Twenty-Nine

The People’s Dilemma

The Healer prayed to the Mighty Spirit.

People's Dilemma

Image Courtesy of Carlos J. de Pedro Jim�nez ~

The people wandered the lanes of the town, confounded in their souls.

There were the Mountain-folk and the Forest-folk; and, the Healer between

Both Folk had founded the town—miracle of cooperation—yet, they now knew not how to communicate

The Healer called a gathering of the wisest of each Folk, began with an invocation:

“Oh, Most Mighty Spirit, give us Thy Guidance.

“Resolve our Confusions.

“Display Thy Mercy.

“Remove this Misapprehension.”

The wisest of the Mountain-folk stared at the wisest of the Forest-folk—neither knowing what to say

The Healer asked the oldest of the wise to speak their minds.

None knew how to communicate their thoughts

The Healer brought forth two crystals—handed one to each of the Ancients, Mountain-Seer and Forest-Oracle.

The Healer mimed that they should blow on the crystals then exchange them.

This they did

They stood, silent

The Healer retrieved the sparkling stones, handed each Ancient the other’s crystal.

The Mountain-Seer opened her mouth and heard a word come from the Forest-Oracle.

The Forest-Oracle opened his mouth and heard the same word issue from the Mountain-Seer.

The word was Acceptance

The Seer and the Oracle wept as they embraced.

Then began the earnest Talks—the sharing of the oldest Stories—the work to find common ground.

None knew, neither the Healer, the Seer, nor the Oracle, none of the other folk, yet knew the Words, True Civilization.

Their descendants, for ages, struggled to learn the Words, learn their deepest Meaning

People learned words that could lead to True Civilization, then forgot what they knew.

Over and over, they learned, then forgot.

Over and over, they forgot, then fought.

Histories were written but none contained the Story of The People’s Dilemma—none remembered the miracle of the crystalline exchange of Acceptance………

Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai
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