Onki & Anauj (and the Prison House for Angels)
Onki & Anauj
(and the Prison House for Angels)
Ø
Six-million BC
(4500 BC?) Onki woke up in the bright sunlight. The Sun warm with its rays of light shaped into a rainbow showered over the horizon. The warmth of the sun seemed to wake up the cocks, for they started to sing their regular desert song, and the desert echoed back to them, it was a new day.
The African sun gently rested gently over this small village where Onki lived. Outside the house was a cactus garden where little lizards ran to and fro, as free as the day and night were long.
Onki’s mouth opened wide—a pleasant yawn, he looked out his window, there he spotted a rainbow which was full of colors, but it was the horizon he was looking at for the most part. Then he looked at his long time friend in the other room through his open bedroom door, Otitoyoc, as he slowly awake. Then he noticed Anauj, his mistress-human wife, who was dressing, putting on a light red garment that extended to the knees, a belt gathered at the waist, it had loose sleeves (similar to a tunic, almost like a dress). Then she began painting her eyes and lips; he starred at her naked-shapely and pleasing body a moment, as she bent her over, a well-formed frame he thought, as she was putting on her camel skin sandals.
She was slim, dark silk-like, wavy long black hair, greenish eyes that often seemed to change to a light blue, she was sixteen years old. Onki was over six-million years old.
He looked at her shapely lips; the lower one was bigger than the upper one. And her bronze skin glowed with youth, he wanted to touch her again, but he had her last night for five-hours. She was worn out. As did his friend, make love to her also, both taking their turns until she passed out with pain and pleasure.
Onki could hear the shifting of the desert sands outside his bedroom window it was like music to his ears, like drums humming and pounding—making the heart and soul, ignite, for it was his way of adjusting to the morning; he never really needed to sleep, nor did his friend Otitoyoc, they were different than Anauj, they were superhuman (paranormal) beings, who came one day, and inhabited this small desert village.
Onki was thinking of far-off days, the long (almost forgotten) past; of the great songs he and his angelic comrades sang within the shadows of the stars, and throughout the heavens. But that was a very long time ago. The songs had since evaporated to within the sands of the desert, the shifting, whistling sands from the winds of the desert, where the lizards made their abode—that is where they now were buried.
It was Anauj, quietly walking out of the bedroom, barefoot, silent with no smile; Onki could hear her. She dare not anger either one of the angelic beings, and so she tried to walk in a straight line, not to make too many sounds. For they could be gracious, but if angered, it could cause a catastrophe (and she did not want any misfortune).
She knew there was some kind of death-curse connected to them, that haunted them inside their somewhat humanistic shell shaped supernatural bodies (huge, nine-foot bodies), for they awaited the day, and scanned the night skies, they would look into the heavens wondering…but she never knew what for, was someone coming (she often contemplated)?
As time passed, she never could figure out the many names they whispered among themselves, accept for one which was called, Ura’el, he was the one they feared the most would appear out of nowhere, come someday. I guess it was another superhuman being; she came to accept, somewhat like that; but moreso she frequently thought of the one who would send this being called Ura’el, that would be the one to fear.
She was young, but quickly learned, it was not natural to have such powers within human frames, they wanted to be worshiped, and could not be killed by any warrior she knew of, and they needed no food, or sex, but took it for pleasure anyway. She didn’t know the whole of it, but was wise enough to keep her fear silent, as they did, concerning this Ura’el being.
This morning Anauj readied the kitchen table as usual, and started to cook as she did each and every morning from her brick oven. The brick floor was warm, and everything seemingly tranquil.
Onki’s and Otitoyoc (both each others sidekick) looked at one another oddly, a strange feeling came over them, as if their senses were picking up something, but not sure what. A danger sign, than out of no where they both started to think about the pledge they made to one another long ago; both agreeing to do this adventure together, no matter what the consequences. They swore an oath to it. To leave God’s realm (their abode, the one they had lived within for eons), and to find this new world called earth, where pleasures was not of heaven, but of flesh—at the time a mysterious and curious phenomenon to them, and to many more angelic beings like them. This was something unknown to the angelic race, prior to God’s creating human flesh, on a material world. When they found earth, along with twenty-three others, they committed the unpardonable sin of cohabitating with the human species, again, part of the oath all twenty-five took, one for all, and all for one; for they new this was a species God created for other purposes, not for their pleasure. But it was tempting, and God had hid it from many of the angels, for good reason of course (and so, like a treasure, unfound for centuries, they came upon earth).
Onki discovering the humans were weaker, and they the stronger, took advantage of the moment (and understood quite well now, why God had kept this a secret from certain angelic beings). As he whispered to his friend, “…we were the first beings, not them” (showing a bit of sourness) but this was true, they were among the first angelic beings God created. And they would be the first to face His judgment. And so, as the breakfast was being readied, they continued to stare at one another, heart pounding, as it did day in and night out, living in fear; their thoughts emerging, for they were over six-million years old, they new one another quite well.
(Offspring) Onki had one child, called Iamuot, he was a hybrid, of short statue, born in the desert of Djurab, by Ahounta Diimdoumalhaye, Anauj’s mother who died while giving childbirth to his son. Anauj was quite young back than. For Onki took her from her original husband whom he killed with a blow to the head, the child was now eight-years old. Anauj took on the responsibility of the mother, Iamuot being a kind of half-brother. But the child was a little different than most of the children of the village. And for that reason he was called the “ape-man [from the dry desert].”
As Iamuot grew up his teeth remained small, he kept a short looking face, and like his father, Onki, had a prominent brow, ridges to be exact. He walked upright, but with a slump, his arms and hands hung to his side of him as he walked, looking, or resembling at times, looking as if he was about to lose his balance quickly, although never did completely.
(Iamuot) Outside the front door Iamuot squatted down to go to the bathroom looking up at the dark cloud encircling his home. While his dog came sniffing him, and wanting to be patted, he noticed a burning flame high in the sky near some clouds—he pushed the dog away to get more focused, he called to called to his mother to see this strange phenomena.
As she opened the door, at that very moment, a lightening spear flashed through the sky, a rod of fire, it soared through the atmosphere striking the house, making the house tremble, and its foundation of mud and crumble, as if they were dust. The village of seven-hundred inhabitants (humans) were shaken to havoc running every which way, scared the sky was falling in, “Fire from heaven!” yelled some of the folks, as twenty-five angelic beings stood erect outside the crumbled foundation of the house.
As the house continued to burn, its insides, the earth started to erupt; sucking into its crevices, and deep holes, everything in its path, one could see dead bodies all about. Anauj stood starring, with a flat affect, as if it was God sent. Onki looked at her, I mean looked at her looking, deeply looked at her into her, perhaps for the first time, and she smiled, and that was a far and in-between facial expression, for she had not smiled it seemed but a few times, and that was to appease them.
Onki hissed at here, unconsciously, but before he could strike her (which was on his mind), the broad and huge being heard something, crackling, it was of iron or steel, it was chains, he was being bound, died, tighter than a python snake can squeeze the life out of a man, tied and retied in knots.
The other twenty-four angelic beings were frozen in fear, said Ura’el to Onki, as if they knew one another, “You will be bound a million years, one for each one of your sins, in the Prison House for Angels, deep within the Universe along with your followers.”
Across the desert, houses and farms, and hunting sites were burning; smoke filled the skies—with black smoke. The animals, pigs, camels, vultures, snakes, rodents, and rabbits, and dogs and cats, all dying of fright, some falling into sink holes, others being swallowed up by the movement of the earth. The world was coming to an end it seemed. And Anauj just stood there as if to wait for her master’s call, wanting to go with Ur’el, for it was the only safe name she had ever heard; she kept that smile on her face now, and Onki could take it off. Ur’el looked at her, his warm eyes told her many things, they told her the Almighty God had read her heart, heard her words and a morsel of faith, and echoed up to his throne.
Said Onki, with a shout, breaking the moment “Kill ME!—do not let me have to count the days and nights and hours alone in nothingness!” but there was no conversation between prisoner and the protector, Ur’el.
Said Ur’el to Anauj, softly, “It is a tiny moment in time…no more than that, it will pass, and be buried deep within man’s unwritten journals, maybe just maybe, another world away, in a different time cycle will uncover some of this. But go, find a husband, leave the dead to themselves, and the scorpions to the desert. Create a new generation; I come from the One God, He is the one who sent me. I will see you at another time.”
Having said that, more angels appeared, grabbing the other twenty-four, and binding them with chains. As Onki was taken away to the Prison House for Angels, far-off in the Universe; and as they took him, one could hear his hard and emotional breathing, his beating of his limbs, his nostrils hissing, his body shaking. Onki’s child was dead as was all the hybrids of which twenty-five were children, sixty women, and forty men. And so this is how the saga began, and how an old one ended.
Note: originally written in March in 2006, St. Paul, Minnesota. Reedited 3/2008 for publication, while in Lima, Peru
(and the Prison House for Angels)
Ø
Six-million BC
(4500 BC?) Onki woke up in the bright sunlight. The Sun warm with its rays of light shaped into a rainbow showered over the horizon. The warmth of the sun seemed to wake up the cocks, for they started to sing their regular desert song, and the desert echoed back to them, it was a new day.
The African sun gently rested gently over this small village where Onki lived. Outside the house was a cactus garden where little lizards ran to and fro, as free as the day and night were long.
Onki’s mouth opened wide—a pleasant yawn, he looked out his window, there he spotted a rainbow which was full of colors, but it was the horizon he was looking at for the most part. Then he looked at his long time friend in the other room through his open bedroom door, Otitoyoc, as he slowly awake. Then he noticed Anauj, his mistress-human wife, who was dressing, putting on a light red garment that extended to the knees, a belt gathered at the waist, it had loose sleeves (similar to a tunic, almost like a dress). Then she began painting her eyes and lips; he starred at her naked-shapely and pleasing body a moment, as she bent her over, a well-formed frame he thought, as she was putting on her camel skin sandals.
She was slim, dark silk-like, wavy long black hair, greenish eyes that often seemed to change to a light blue, she was sixteen years old. Onki was over six-million years old.
He looked at her shapely lips; the lower one was bigger than the upper one. And her bronze skin glowed with youth, he wanted to touch her again, but he had her last night for five-hours. She was worn out. As did his friend, make love to her also, both taking their turns until she passed out with pain and pleasure.
Onki could hear the shifting of the desert sands outside his bedroom window it was like music to his ears, like drums humming and pounding—making the heart and soul, ignite, for it was his way of adjusting to the morning; he never really needed to sleep, nor did his friend Otitoyoc, they were different than Anauj, they were superhuman (paranormal) beings, who came one day, and inhabited this small desert village.
Onki was thinking of far-off days, the long (almost forgotten) past; of the great songs he and his angelic comrades sang within the shadows of the stars, and throughout the heavens. But that was a very long time ago. The songs had since evaporated to within the sands of the desert, the shifting, whistling sands from the winds of the desert, where the lizards made their abode—that is where they now were buried.
It was Anauj, quietly walking out of the bedroom, barefoot, silent with no smile; Onki could hear her. She dare not anger either one of the angelic beings, and so she tried to walk in a straight line, not to make too many sounds. For they could be gracious, but if angered, it could cause a catastrophe (and she did not want any misfortune).
She knew there was some kind of death-curse connected to them, that haunted them inside their somewhat humanistic shell shaped supernatural bodies (huge, nine-foot bodies), for they awaited the day, and scanned the night skies, they would look into the heavens wondering…but she never knew what for, was someone coming (she often contemplated)?
As time passed, she never could figure out the many names they whispered among themselves, accept for one which was called, Ura’el, he was the one they feared the most would appear out of nowhere, come someday. I guess it was another superhuman being; she came to accept, somewhat like that; but moreso she frequently thought of the one who would send this being called Ura’el, that would be the one to fear.
She was young, but quickly learned, it was not natural to have such powers within human frames, they wanted to be worshiped, and could not be killed by any warrior she knew of, and they needed no food, or sex, but took it for pleasure anyway. She didn’t know the whole of it, but was wise enough to keep her fear silent, as they did, concerning this Ura’el being.
This morning Anauj readied the kitchen table as usual, and started to cook as she did each and every morning from her brick oven. The brick floor was warm, and everything seemingly tranquil.
Onki’s and Otitoyoc (both each others sidekick) looked at one another oddly, a strange feeling came over them, as if their senses were picking up something, but not sure what. A danger sign, than out of no where they both started to think about the pledge they made to one another long ago; both agreeing to do this adventure together, no matter what the consequences. They swore an oath to it. To leave God’s realm (their abode, the one they had lived within for eons), and to find this new world called earth, where pleasures was not of heaven, but of flesh—at the time a mysterious and curious phenomenon to them, and to many more angelic beings like them. This was something unknown to the angelic race, prior to God’s creating human flesh, on a material world. When they found earth, along with twenty-three others, they committed the unpardonable sin of cohabitating with the human species, again, part of the oath all twenty-five took, one for all, and all for one; for they new this was a species God created for other purposes, not for their pleasure. But it was tempting, and God had hid it from many of the angels, for good reason of course (and so, like a treasure, unfound for centuries, they came upon earth).
Onki discovering the humans were weaker, and they the stronger, took advantage of the moment (and understood quite well now, why God had kept this a secret from certain angelic beings). As he whispered to his friend, “…we were the first beings, not them” (showing a bit of sourness) but this was true, they were among the first angelic beings God created. And they would be the first to face His judgment. And so, as the breakfast was being readied, they continued to stare at one another, heart pounding, as it did day in and night out, living in fear; their thoughts emerging, for they were over six-million years old, they new one another quite well.
(Offspring) Onki had one child, called Iamuot, he was a hybrid, of short statue, born in the desert of Djurab, by Ahounta Diimdoumalhaye, Anauj’s mother who died while giving childbirth to his son. Anauj was quite young back than. For Onki took her from her original husband whom he killed with a blow to the head, the child was now eight-years old. Anauj took on the responsibility of the mother, Iamuot being a kind of half-brother. But the child was a little different than most of the children of the village. And for that reason he was called the “ape-man [from the dry desert].”
As Iamuot grew up his teeth remained small, he kept a short looking face, and like his father, Onki, had a prominent brow, ridges to be exact. He walked upright, but with a slump, his arms and hands hung to his side of him as he walked, looking, or resembling at times, looking as if he was about to lose his balance quickly, although never did completely.
(Iamuot) Outside the front door Iamuot squatted down to go to the bathroom looking up at the dark cloud encircling his home. While his dog came sniffing him, and wanting to be patted, he noticed a burning flame high in the sky near some clouds—he pushed the dog away to get more focused, he called to called to his mother to see this strange phenomena.
As she opened the door, at that very moment, a lightening spear flashed through the sky, a rod of fire, it soared through the atmosphere striking the house, making the house tremble, and its foundation of mud and crumble, as if they were dust. The village of seven-hundred inhabitants (humans) were shaken to havoc running every which way, scared the sky was falling in, “Fire from heaven!” yelled some of the folks, as twenty-five angelic beings stood erect outside the crumbled foundation of the house.
As the house continued to burn, its insides, the earth started to erupt; sucking into its crevices, and deep holes, everything in its path, one could see dead bodies all about. Anauj stood starring, with a flat affect, as if it was God sent. Onki looked at her, I mean looked at her looking, deeply looked at her into her, perhaps for the first time, and she smiled, and that was a far and in-between facial expression, for she had not smiled it seemed but a few times, and that was to appease them.
Onki hissed at here, unconsciously, but before he could strike her (which was on his mind), the broad and huge being heard something, crackling, it was of iron or steel, it was chains, he was being bound, died, tighter than a python snake can squeeze the life out of a man, tied and retied in knots.
The other twenty-four angelic beings were frozen in fear, said Ura’el to Onki, as if they knew one another, “You will be bound a million years, one for each one of your sins, in the Prison House for Angels, deep within the Universe along with your followers.”
Across the desert, houses and farms, and hunting sites were burning; smoke filled the skies—with black smoke. The animals, pigs, camels, vultures, snakes, rodents, and rabbits, and dogs and cats, all dying of fright, some falling into sink holes, others being swallowed up by the movement of the earth. The world was coming to an end it seemed. And Anauj just stood there as if to wait for her master’s call, wanting to go with Ur’el, for it was the only safe name she had ever heard; she kept that smile on her face now, and Onki could take it off. Ur’el looked at her, his warm eyes told her many things, they told her the Almighty God had read her heart, heard her words and a morsel of faith, and echoed up to his throne.
Said Onki, with a shout, breaking the moment “Kill ME!—do not let me have to count the days and nights and hours alone in nothingness!” but there was no conversation between prisoner and the protector, Ur’el.
Said Ur’el to Anauj, softly, “It is a tiny moment in time…no more than that, it will pass, and be buried deep within man’s unwritten journals, maybe just maybe, another world away, in a different time cycle will uncover some of this. But go, find a husband, leave the dead to themselves, and the scorpions to the desert. Create a new generation; I come from the One God, He is the one who sent me. I will see you at another time.”
Having said that, more angels appeared, grabbing the other twenty-four, and binding them with chains. As Onki was taken away to the Prison House for Angels, far-off in the Universe; and as they took him, one could hear his hard and emotional breathing, his beating of his limbs, his nostrils hissing, his body shaking. Onki’s child was dead as was all the hybrids of which twenty-five were children, sixty women, and forty men. And so this is how the saga began, and how an old one ended.
Note: originally written in March in 2006, St. Paul, Minnesota. Reedited 3/2008 for publication, while in Lima, Peru
Labels: "Antena Regional": The best of 2006 for promoting culture
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 10:38 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home