Notes from An Alien

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Friday Fantasy ~~~ Number Ten

~Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai~

Minotaur of The Shadows

~ It was the same old story—Good against Evil

Minotaur's Mountain

Image courtesy of valium88 at

The mountain was a majestic upthrust seeming to touch the highest clouds.

They said Titan worshiped the sun, living at the peak of the mountain.

They said Minotaur lived in the shadows, inside the mountain, surrounded by a maze of tunnels leading out.

The people in the ring of villages surrounding the mountain’s base were ordinary, industrious folk.

They had their faults but persisted in their ordinary, industrious way

Air Handmaiden was an Unknown.


Titan seemed to have lived on the mountain forever.

People were uncertain about when Minotaur had arrived.

Air Handmaiden knew the Truth


Jasbran had discovered the first tunnel, which led to the Minotaur’s first seizure of people—ten from five villages.

Naturally, folks prayed to Titan for aid.

Naturally, Titan seemed not to answer


Over the years, 99 more villagers joined Minotaur in his lair.

Over the years, many attempts were made to climb the mountain and attain Titan’s abode.

Finally, on the eve of Sanbluian in the year of Tacnos-549, Jasbran’s grandchild, Thenon, reached the peak.

He didn’t see Titan but proceeded to make his herbal infusion on his camp-stove, poured the first cup over his head, and prayed:

“Oh, Titan, Master of the mountain!

“Come to our aid!

“Help us fight the Minotaur and bring our people back to their homes !!”

His thoughts ended the prayer with, if they still live

The moons had risen, the air was frigid, and Thenon saw a strange cloud.

It was drawing nearer, descending toward where he stood.

As it approached, he thought he saw a body forming from its vaporous substance.

Yes! — an ethereal being alighted in front of him and said:

“I am the Handmaiden of the Air.

“I have told Titan of your prayer.

“He begs your indulgence as he prepares an answer.”

Thenon tried to speak—wheezed out the words, “I—I thought Titan lived here

“He does but you can not yet see him.”

“Wh—What must I do?”


She disappeared—a mere cloud-form remained

Thenon sat by the camp-stove and shivered.


More than strange

A sudden sleep enveloped him and he dreamed


Titan was there, magnificent in His effulgence.

“Thenon, I give you greeting and avow your courage, yet wonder if you have understanding.”

“Titan! I am speechless

“Perhaps not—yet, listen.

“Minotaur is as tenuous as the Handmaiden, formed of thoughts—thoughts ill-beseeming the folk in your villages. If you have found your full voice, tell me what you think.”

Thenon cleared his throat and said:

“You say the Minotaur is not real, a phantom of our thoughts?”

“Not your  thoughts, dear Thenon. You came to Me, the others stay in the villages, cringing in fear.”

“Is the Minotaur not to be feared?”

“You understand yet keep yourself from knowing you understand.”

Thenon wondered

“Thenon, cast back in your mind. Recall the actions of your people. Do you see them gathering together and fearfully retelling the stories of the Minotaur’s rampages?”


“Cast yet deeper. See the co-incidence of their most fearful gatherings with Minotaur’s attacks.”

Thenon played-out the scenes in his quivering mind—saw the connections

“Very good, Thenon. Now descend and bring this awareness to your people.”

Thenon awoke.


Air Handmaiden was with him as he made his way to the base of the mountain.

She filled his mind with Words, Sentences—Verbal Remedies.

When he reached the first village, she was gone and he appeared to have just been soaked by rain.

He met with the people and told them of his Dream on the mountain.

Few believed him.

He shared the Proofs from the Handmaiden—few understood.


Thenon now lived in the forest beyond the villages.

He had the Handmaiden as an occasional Visitor.

He had his memory of Titan.

He had the weight of the reality of how long it would take to convince enough people


The people ever so gradually replaced themselves.

The children listened to Thenon—understood the power of imagination

As Thenon began to reach his terminal age—approached ever-nearer the True Realm of Titan—he nearly glowed with the realization that the end was near.

The end of Minotaur—the re-beginning of a Clean, Ordinary, Industrious Life


As Thenon’s body died and his spirit ascended towards Titan, he knew that, eventually, the People would evolve beyond ordinary, maintain their industriousness—as long as they remained Clean
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Friday Fantasy ~~~ Number Nine

~Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai~

The Minotaur’s Maze

~ People called me a Minotaur, but that is only because I had the head and tail of a bull… Minotaur

I was really nothing like the Myth—well, not really

I will share what Lie Swallower has written of it


There was a family in the Gagieo Valley with many children—twenty at last count.

Most folk called the family Kin.

Then, there was Kith—all of Kin’s so-called acquaintances and friends.

Kith became jealous of Kin—jealous of all the children, some say

My name is Cleudiona but people call me Lie Swallower, ever since my friend Xiethan had the God of Throble give him the head and tail of a bull—

Well, let me start more toward the beginning by sharing some of the reports of our local Scribe


~ 5th of Selvan

Kith has claimed there is a monster roaming in the woods of Sarjei.

Kith has also claimed this monster has the head and tail of a bull.

I will be attempting to look into the matter.

~ 10th of Selvan

I have not been harmed.

It is true that a creature with the head and tail of a bull is in the Sarjei woods.

I saw it but did not stay long.

It seemed to be crying

~ 21st of Selvan

It is true.

Kin has sent their eldest child into the woods—into the deepest part—the Maze of Threl.

Kith has claimed the child has been eaten by the creature.

I did enter the woods again but nearly lost my way at the entrance to Threl.

I am not sure how to validate the claim of Kith.


This is Lie Swallower again.

Right after that last report by our Scribe, people began to call my friend, Xiethan, the Minotaur.

Naturally, this made the fear of folks climb to a peak.

Kith tried to call on the King of distant Buisonmai to send troops to kill the Minotaur.

The King refused.

Kin would not talk to anyone and they sent another child into the Maze


I must go even further back in time

My friend, Xiethan, was a first cousin of the father of Kin.

They both had a high degree of what I can only call Spirit.

Not the spirits of the idols that Kith sell—some real power that can not be seen but will be felt by folk who are sincere of heart

About a year ago, Kin’s father sent Xiethan on a mission to the Throble mountains.

This was when Kith were still accounted as friends and acquaintances of Kin.

Yes, it is true that Kin’s father scared Kith—they could not understand why but I think it was because of his Spirit

Yet, they acted like all was well—until Xiethan went to the mountains.

It was all so confusing

Kith began to put some of their larger idols around the home of Kin.

People began to avoid dealing with Kin.

Kin’s father announced that the departure of Xiethan was a solution for the problem.

Now, two of the Kin children are in the Maze and a third has just left to join them


I had to interrupt my tale to make a venture into the Maze

Some of Kith had surrounded the Maze and it took me nearly a full day to slip in unnoticed—they clearly wanted to harm me

I am now back and must admit I still can’t understand what is happening

I visited with Xiethan and the children of Kin.

All were well, though Xiethan is not what he used to be—not only because of the bull’s head and tail

The children are just fine—happier than I have ever seen them.


Sorry, another interruption—I had to rally a few of our stronger men to protect Kin—Kith is becoming completely unmanageable!

Oh, twelve more of Kin’s children are in the Maze

I will return as soon as possible………


This is Xiethan.

My dear friend, Cleudiona, called Lie Swallower, is dead

My normal body has returned but I am a very confused man

The children are all safe

The children are full of Spirit

I was merely a Pathway for the Spirit of the God of Throble

Almost all of Kith is dead

Some from insanity, some from attempting to kill others, some from becoming lost in the Maze

Cleudiona died while protecting me and the children from Kith

My cousin, Kin’s father, has been trying to explain what has happened

Some of it makes sense, most of it seems extremely unreal

I trusted him when he sent me to the mountains

I still trust him

He says it is the working of Spirit

He says the God of Throble had decided there needed to be more people with Spirit and Kin’s children were the ones best able to handle it

All I did was sit there, mostly crying

The children would come to me, touch my head, and declare they were of a new Mind

I don’t know

I feel it all may be just a Myth………
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Friday Fantasy ~~~ Number Eight

~Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai~

The Scribe and The Sun of Truth

~ He was running for his life. 

The Sun was falling and he had to get to the Ocean before he was engulfed in Its Flames.

Just as he reached the shore

He woke up.

Ninevas sat up on his cot and spoke to the Dream:

“Mercy! I hear your command yet know not how to comply

He waited for confirmation

No voice, no evidentiary animal sound, no alteration in his humble surroundings

“Bedevilment! I am cursed

Ninevas was scared to shivering.

I did not wish that Dream… I do not want that Dream

After he rose from his cot, he took the Sacred Stone from his pack and said:

“I hear you Sun Benthos.

“I hear but do not comprehend.

“May I be led to Your Wisdom.”

He returned the Stone to his pack, slipped on his robe and sandals, slung his pack to his shoulder, and splashed his face with what remained in his cup from the last evening’s drinking bout.

“The wine’s dream it is

“I am not worthy to dream of Sun Benthos

He had the last of dawn to roam the foothills before he began his work for Stenrus.

He left his tent and walked softly past the others’ dwellings.

Why should I have this Dream?

None will believe me, none will help me unravel its meaning

The Chronicles had it that, when the Sun Benthos returned to Earth and sought Its rest in the Ocean, the World would end.

Ninevas was not of the Priests, nor the Masters.

Ninevas was extremely distressed and wishing with all his might to be rid of the Dream.

A scribe does not dream of the gods!

He wove his way through the struggling bush, retraced his steps past his tent, and headed to the magnificent adobe home of the Masters.

Removing his sandals at the entrance, he met Bilbras, the Masters’ cook.

“Bilbras, have you a short time for a query?”

“I have no time, there is no time, I have an impossible task.”

“You are the Masters’ cook. No person of mid-rank excels you in creativity.”

“It has nothing to do with my abilities. I am to prepare a Feast for a Visitor and there are no extra supplies. Do I ask the gods for grain? Do I pray for rain to water the dying crops? The Masters will thrash me when they have less to eat

“Dear Bilbras, I leave you to your challenge. Is Anthrase in the dwelling?”

“He is.”, said Bilbras as he strode away.

Ninevas regretted his plight but Anthrase was the only possible soul who could understand

He will not speak to me and if he does he will report me to the Masters

Ninevas was in a well of depression—surging with frenzied feelings.

He scoffed at the idea of approaching Anthrase and went to Stenrus’ rooms.

Stenrus was surprised to see Ninevas arrive early but gave a crooked smile as he said:

“Ninevas, you may earn your keep today. Sit and write.”

Ninevas snatched his papyrus and pen and sat.

“The salutation shall be, Oh, Worthy Milkas, we greet your arrival with anticipation of your showering us with your Wisdom.”

Milkas was a Master from the coast region of the Sea of Abjuration.

He was loathed by Stenrus but had lands, not so ravaged; and animals, not so skinny; plus, solid gold.

Ninevas recorded the missive and copied it for the Masters’ Book of Affirmations.

Stenrus applied his seal to the papyrus, summoned a runner, and instructed him:

“You shall carry this at speed to the approaching Personage of Milkas. Meet him at the village of Silras or be hanged!”

Stenrus turned to Ninevas as the runner departed:

“Stay in the dwelling. Partake of a small portion of food. Return here at mid-day.”


Ninevas sat in the kitchen munching on a flat cake.

Bilbras entered in a rush, arms full of small sacks—the reward of his earnest begging at every dwelling.

“Bilbras, have you heard who it is you will feed today?”

“I have no need to know. I have work and I have embarrassment—begging food for the Masters! What is the world coming to?”

“The world is—”

“Yes? You are saying?”


“Good. Stay out of my way.”


When Ninevas returned to Stenrus’ rooms, he sat in his place and pondered while waiting for the Master to return.

Things are bad to worse

The Masters demanding Bilbras obtain food from the people—robbing them of what the Masters allocated for their nourishment

Perhaps Milkas can offer help


The Feast had finished and Stenrus had returned with Milkas. The Masters’ discussion was aiming towards conclusion, Ninevas recording every word; though, his impression of Milkas made it hard to concentrate; and, Stenrus’ lack of manners toward a guest were dismaying him.

After Stenrus indicated Ninevas’ immediate job was done, instructing him to make a copy before sunrise, Milkas addressed him:

“Ninevas, I require your services for a turning of the glass, no longer than that.”

Ninevas felt an unaccountable thrill in his heart.

Stenrus bid them away to the common room.


As soon as they were seated, Milkas said:

“Your Dream is Truth, Ninevas.”


“I am Revealing Myself to you, Ninevas. You will record My Words.”

Ninevas felt a strength filling his agonized frame—he had no true awareness—he wrote uncomprehendingly.

A timeless time later he heard Milkas say:

“Please, read what you have written.”

Ninevas read:

“Hear me, oh people.

“I am the One you long for, the One who fills your dreams and the Dreams of your ancestors.

“I bring you what you most need.

“I offer you Truth.

“Your Masters are ill-equipped to aid you—they live from stealing your birthright—they are palpably misguided.

Ninevas read to the end then fell into a swoon.


He woke to Milkas’ ministrations, supping a liquid of heavenly sweetness, gathering his wayward limbs into a sitting posture.

“Ninevas, who do you judge me to be?”

He heard himself say:

“Thou art Sun Benthos.”

“Yes, I am the True Sun, the Fire that quenches the Sea of false knowledge; and, you are the first to believe in Me.

“You feel not worthy yet I heard your prayer:

“‘I hear you Sun Benthos.

‘I hear but do not comprehend.

‘May I be led to Your Wisdom.’

“Be happy, Ninevas. Today you shall serve Me well and gain infinite blessing.”

Ninevas swooned again.


The sun was approaching its setting as Ninevas woke.

He had no doubt, no fear.

His Dream had become Reality and he had a Mission.

He felt the Prescence of Milkas though His body had departed.

He went from dwelling to dwelling, reading out the Words of Sun Benthos.

Some believed, most thought him insane, one rushed to the dwelling of the Masters.


Stenrus roared:

“Scum !

“You dare to usurp our rule !!

“You repeat the words of a raving lunatic and bring iniquitous shame on yourself !!!

Stenrus struck Ninevas in the face with such force that he slide across the floor.

“You shall be burned alive.”


The fire roared around him.

His flesh bubbled and his bones snapped.

His mind was clear and his heart joyous.

He greeted the Sun of Truth in His Holy Dwelling—far beyond the cares of the earth
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Friday Fantasy ~~~ Number Seven

Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai

And The Lowly Shall Rise

664px-Night_Griffanmany-arms-691692-mEvery soul had taken flight, but one.

The people of the village ran, terrified, into the hills—the Outcast, Fremqul, walked down the steep path from his hideout in the hills.

The people had been warned about the HydraWoman approaching the village—Fremqul didn’t have a clue.

He did wonder at their mass exodus but decided the Sun was, quite surprisingly, blessing him.

Plenty of time to ransack their huts—find those gems they hide away

There was no value in the gems for Fremqul but to stare at them and watch the Sun play in their depths

He had been banned from the village twenty years before—made an Outcast by the people, turned himself into a Berserker—none being able to stop him when he had worked himself up for an attack.

He worshiped but two things—the Sun and the gems that so loved the Sun

No need today for the crazed running and wild gyrations he used to avoid the villagers’ spears, no need to get in and out quickly—he strolled toward the village, thanking the Sun.

He approached the Headman’s hut, sure of finding the most gems in this most elaborate dwelling.

He was right—left the hut with gems dripping from his hands.

This was when he heard the wailing


He ducked back into the hut, threw the gems he had into a basket along with six more handfuls, rushed back out and saw the Monster floating rapidly towards him.

Then HydraWoman stopped advancing, turned, and hissed horribly, her multitudinous arms flailing.

Fremqul spotted her worry—Tusker, the giant Boar.

She looks afraid What in Sun’s name is happening?

Fremqul then noticed the trail of blood and the spout of crimson issuing from the Boar’s back.

Boar can’t die…? blood poison for HydraWoman?

The Boar was snorting at the Hydra and the Hydra was spewing a green gas as she hissed—the gas, in fact, capable of killing the Boar.

The standoff fascinated Fremqul. He slowly circled the Headman’s hut, positioning himself to watch and, hopefully, not be noticed

He had never actually seen Tusker or HydraWoman—certainly had heard about them as he grew up

Blood stopping Hydra. Gas holding off Tusker

He decided the confrontation was really none of his business and slowly began a backwards retreat toward the hills.

Tusker backed away from the Hydra and made a wide circle that began to look like it might end up between Fremqul and the hills.

Just as Fremqul got to the path up, Tusker had arrived in front of him, facing the towering Hydra.

Damn! Blood and gas both deadly Rushing up hill dangerous

He froze to the spot and began to pray aloud:

“Oh! Sun Father!
I am a gross sinner!
But, I am still Thy child!
Please, protect me!!”

Tusker and HydraWoman were still locked in mutually repelling confrontation and Fremqul didn’t dare move

Silly man, shouting a prayer Damned lucky they hate each other so

He began to wonder at Tusker’s coming round in front of him but suddenly had something else to contemplate.

He heard the screech and felt the battering wind from the wings

Griffin! Servant of Sun!!

The HydraWoman rose to meet Griffin in the air—Tusker turned and faced Fremqul.

Shit! Now what?!

As if everything that had just happened hadn’t already swamped his mind, Fremqul now heard Tusker speak to him:

“Man. My blood can in no wise harm thee. Fables about me hide my truth.”

“You are talking to me

” I am and you must listen, carefully.”


“Have I ever killed a human?”

Fremqul had a bit of trouble thinking about what he had learned of the stories about Tusker, with all the hissing and screeching above him, not to mention his having to hold fast to a rock outcropping to avoid being knocked over by the blast from Griffin’s wings.

“Give me a minute

“We have only a short time. Griffin can hold HydraWoman off but not banish her. We must do that. Again, have I ever killed a human?”

Fremqul’s mind began to focus.

“Did you say we have to chase off HydraWoman?!”

“Yes, we must. A third time—have I ever killed a human?”

“Uuuh Can’t remember I think, perhaps not?”

“True. One other question. Is Griffin your friend?”

“My— Say, Mr. Tusker, why the questions? Are we not both in a dangerous situation? I have heard that Griffin hates you

“He does but he hates HydraWoman more. Again, is Griffin your friend?”

Damn! What in holy hell is happening?

Griffin and the Hydra were rising higher as their screechings and hissings came louder

“Man, if Griffin is not your friend, we are both lost. Griffin, though mighty, might eventually tire, HydraWoman vanquishing him—then her gas will kill you. Though, HydraWoman may tire for a bit—then, Griffin kills me.”

Fremqul had no idea he would say his next words:

“Griffin is in truth my friend—I love Sun and Sun is Father of Griffin—I love gems and Sun loves gems. Griffin must love gems, so—”

“You have gems?!”

“I do”, said Fremqul as he opened his basket—Griffin’s wind blowing him over, the gems twinkling to the ground.

Things changed quickly.

HydraWoman’s green gas stopped spewing.

Tusker shouted, “Throw the gems at her!!”

Fremqul was beyond questioning—repeatedly slung handfuls of gems at HydraWoman.

Remarkably, she ceased her attentions towards Griffin and caught all the gems in her countless arms.

Tusker, still spouting a fountain of blood, rushed the Hydra.

Her feet began to boil as Tusker’s blood flooded them.

She sank into the boiling, legs then body then head, all in a frenzied roiling.

Soon, there was nothing left of HydraWoman but steam, which dissipated quickly in the wind from Griffin’s wings.

The Boar’s bleeding stopped.

Griffin landed between Fremqul and Tusker.

Not surprisingly, Griffin spoke:

“Fremqul, my friend, you have saved the village from the Hydra and you have saved the Boar from my vengeance.”

Fremqul fainted.


The people of the village had watched the drama from high in the hills and were now standing in a cluster around Fremqul’s body.

The Headman knelt down and shook him.

Fremquil woke to what he immediately reckoned as his executioners.

The Headman smiled at him and said:

“Do not fear. All is forgiven. You have saved us.”


Fremqul stayed in the hills but stopped being a Beserker.

Why try to frighten and steal from the village when they freely brought him all he would ever need

He never saw Tusker or Griffin again.

He had all the time in the world to stare into the depths of his gems and pray to Sun
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Friday Fantasy ~~~ Number Six

Copyright, 2014, Alexander M Zoltai

The Terrified Warrior

He was the bravest they had.

He was hiding in a cave and trembling like a child

He was well familiar with the adage, “Courage is action taken in spite of fear.”; but, in his horror-stricken state, his courage had evaporated.

The monster was rampaging near the cave—twenty towering feet of stone-like muscle and very little brain—raised-up from Hell and angry at everything

The man’s name was Trellon Gravuos.

The People had bestowed on him the title, Trellon The Dauntless; and, dauntless he had been, in countless wars against the Oppressors to the north—saving his People, single-handed, from rape and rapine.

He had been a marvel in battle—swift, precise, deadly—seemingly impervious to being wounded; though, he had more scar tissue than smooth

Here he was, cowering in the cave—mind flaming with fear.

The monster had no name—had never even been imagined by the People.

Not far from the cave, the Shaman, Mirzan, was praying for all he was worth—beseeching the Avatar, Haiminsos, for aid and assistance.

Haiminsos appeared to be unavailable

Mirzan forced himself to walk down the cliff-path to the cave, using all his stealth to avoid confrontation.

At the cave entrance, he had to squeeze through the only opening left, rocks from the monster’s violent disorder piled high.

He called in the near-dark, “Trellon?”.

Muffled whimpering


A swallowed gasp.

Mirzan stumbled toward the sound, found Trellon, shook his quivering body.

“Trellon, for the sake of all that is Right, wake from your dire dread!”

Trellon began to sit up from his fetal-clutch.

“There’s a good soldier, Trellon, sit and breathe; deep, deep

Trellon spoke in a whisper:

“Mir— za—”

“Trellon, wake from this! Speak your fear!”

“Mirzan I don’t understand……

“Of course you do, Trellon. There is a giant Phantom out there, powered by the Wizards of Terlonzaas; and, you are damaged—in body and soul—damaged but not dead, Trellon. Let me help you.”

“Make it go away!”

“Trellon, dear soul, the Wizards have learned my weakness as well as yours. I am a Shaman of the Earth. This monster is of the Mind. I need your help.”

“You? Need my  help??”

“I can make your wounds less painful. I can enkindle more strength from your body. I cannot fight this monster. He is from your own mind

My mind? You blame this abomination on me!?”

“There is no blame in my heart, Trellon. We all are in this crisis and the Wizards have discovered long-hidden fears in your deepest mind—fears we all carry—fears as strong in you as your courage is strong. This is your battle, none else can fight it You must conquer yourself

“Mirzan Mirzan, I do not understand

A rock rumbled down the cliff and blocked the narrow opening in the cave mouth, killing the meager light.

“Trellon. Listen carefully. I can deal with your body, I can deal with the rocks blocking the entrance. You must deal with the monster of fear in your mind!”

“H— How?”

“I will invoke the Avatar, Haiminsos, but you must help me.”

“Help you……

“Yes, you must pray to Haiminsos, pray with all your might for clarity of mind, pray for deliverance from this fear.”

“I shall try

“You must do much more than try! You must succeed! You must scrape-up your Faith and Trust, call-up the feelings of all the victories won in your name yet aided by the Good Grace of Haiminsos—focus on Gratitude, concentrate on Thankfulness—shout-out your Plea!”

As Trellon began his earnest, nearly screaming, chant, the monster began battering the roof of the cave—dust, in gagging sheets, raining down.

Mirzan was murmuring in a heat of Invocation

Dislodged fragments of rock fell with the dust, both men beginning a struggle against terminal choking

A light began to shimmer in the cave, a tingling warmth invaded the limbs of the supplicating humans.

Trellon, though continuing to howl his chant, lost his mind—traveled to his past—saw the river bank and the horde of children from the north, creeping and sneaking through the water, drooling green waste, eyes vacant

The force of the image brought his mind back to awareness, impressed on his heart the unreality of the memory, caused a shock of discovery that dissolved the old nightmare, bringing a surge of energy, erupting with the release from decades of hidden dread at a mere child’s dream.

He rose in the glow of Haiminsos’ Presence, joined hands with Mirzan, and bellowed:

“Be gone! Return to your masters! You are no longer mine! Give them  the horror you rain down from your mindless existence!!”

They were engulfed in a mind-crafted blaze of flame, hot as magma, swirling against the rocks, bursting the bounds of mere earth, focusing a column of passion toward the monster.

The Phantom roared its worthy death—turned to blackest cloud—rose above the cliff and rushed north
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