[Bleedingwhiteash] New post at Nott Road Blues

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Posted by Michael Jas. Murray:
The Secret Teachings of Professor V.

   "You guys don't fuck around, do you?"
   The Professor shrugged his shoulders and gestured toward the table
   beside him. "What do you think?"
   David's eyes wandered from the Professor to the table the man had
   indicated, nervously taking stock of the objects strewn upon it. Among
   them were the inevitable implements, the toys that had become canon.
   There were flails whose supple strands were adorned with tarnished
   brass studs. Riding crops and spiked leather collars lay beside
   ball-gags and handcuffs. There were, of course, plenty of ebony masks.
   One monstrous beauty was covered in glittering steel nails that David
   guessed had been lovingly polished and sharpened in anticipation of
   his arrival. There were also objects that not only lay outside of
   David's recognition, but also any attempt his imagination made to
   grasp their purpose. These were twisting monstrosities, implements
   adorned with countless clamps, straps and spikes curved at seemingly
   impossible angles. If they were meant to be toys, the game utilizing
   them was an alien one. The entire fetishistic wealth, both familiar
   and foreign, glistened blackly in the sparse candlelight that
   illumined the room in which David and the Professor sat. In a room
   populated by dancing shadows, the toys shone as polished darkness.
   David returned his gaze to the Professor, both relieved and
   disappointed by the innocuous figure sitting before him.
   "Are you the only daddy the Clover has?" David asked. The
   disappointment crept into his voice despite his best efforts to
   conceal it.
   "That I am," the Professor said with a hint of amusement. "Why do you
   ask?"
   "Just curious." I guess I expected more. If the rumors were to be
   believed, the Professor was one of the best masters around, a sexual
   genius. David had expected a muscled giant oozing with youthful vigor,
   a man both monstrous and beautiful. The Professor was neither. The
   figure who sat before David looked almost frail, a scarecrow of a man
   whose t-shirt revealed scrawny arms that ended in vein-ridden hands
   and bony fingers. Two beady eyes hid behind thick glasses. And the
   Professor was hardly young; David guessed the legendary sexual maestro
   was in his early sixties.
   "Let me ask you something, David," the Professor said softly. "Why do
   you want to do this?"
   "I heard there was nothing like a night in the House of the Iron
   Clover," David answered, trying to avoid the gaze of the Professor's
   icy eyes. "Playing with you guys is supposed to be the best sex there
   is."
   The old man raised his eyebrows.
   "So you came here for sex?"
   "Well, yeah, I mean, that's what you guys do, right?" David shifted
   nervously in his seat.
   The young man had the feeling that the meeting had become some sort of
   interview, an interview he was failing abysmally.
   "There are probably some things you should know about us," the
   Professor said. "First off, I don't play with endorphine junkies. I'm
   not here to help people get off. This isn't butt-sex in the bathroom
   at the club, David."
   "No, no, I didn't mean that," David said, his voice becoming
   desperate. "I came here because I heard that you do things
   differently, that you make it spiritual."
   "Oh. You came here for a spiritual experience?"
   "Well, yeah," David said.
   "What do you mean by 'spiritual,' David?"
   "I-" David frantically grasped for the right words, worried that the
   Professor was growing disappointed with him. "I, well-"
   The Professor sighed.
   "This isn't working, is it David?"
   "No, I guess not," the young man admitted.
   "Let's try something else, then, shall we?" the Professor suggested
   gently.
   "Like what?"
   "Well," the Professor said, "how about I tell you a story? A myth, if
   you will."
   "A myth?"
   "Well sure, after all, I am a professor of religions. Telling myths is
   what I get paid for." The Professor laughed softly. "This particular
   myth was given to me by an old student of mine, a curious little
   fellow who ended up hanging himself."
   "I'm sorry," David whispered.
   The Professor waved a hand. "That's neither here nor there, David.
   Suffice to say his nightmares caught up with him. So, anyway, may I
   tell you my story?"
   "Sure," David murmured, relieved that the Professor had apparently
   given him a second chance.
   "Well, then." The Professor lit a cigarette, taking a drag and
   exhaling a smoky cloud that further hid his already shadow-obscured
   face. Shadows, smoke and candlelight twined about each other and
   danced before David's eyes. The room had become almost painfully
   intimate, endowed with all the cloying warmth of an overdose. After
   taking a second drag and exhaling,
   the Professor began to speak in the reverential tones that priests
   reserve for their mantras.
   "Before the midnight pulse beat the rhythm of the world, before there
   were people to offer sacrifices and saints to receive them...

                                     *

   ...and before the Celestials learned the intricacies of sorrow, Father
   Sun fell deeply in love with Lady Moon. The lunar maiden possessed a
   beauty unsurpassed by any other denizen of the firmament. Her
   delicate, flawless limbs were adorned with the finest quicksilver
   robes, garments which shed a radiance not unlike the chilly, soothing
   light of her eyes. His heart ensnared by her loveliness, Father Sun
   begged her for her hand in marriage.
   "My love," Father Sun rumbled, "I will give you anything you desire if
   you become my bride. I will slay the rainbows and craft you jewelry
   from their bones. I will gather the stars to pay you homage in song.
   Do you want the Horizon itself to call you its queen? I shall do all
   of this and anything else you desire if you will accept my proposal of
   marriage."
   Lady Moon looked gently upon the heroic Sun kneeling before her, his
   bronze body and blazing eyes shining with the virtues of a hero.
   Smiling upon the Lord and his earnest love, Lady Moon laughed sweetly
   and gave her reply.
   "My Lord, your handsome frame is more precious than the scintillating
   bones of rainbows and your words of love far more enchanting that the
   music of the stars," Lady Moon declared with her lilting voice. "These
   are all that I demand from you, my dearest. Of course I shall be your
   bride. I have only one favor to ask of you, my betrothed."
   "What is it? Ask and I shall provide it," Sun cried.
   "I ask only that you prevent your brother from attending our marriage
   celebration," Lady Moon said, kneeling and taking her lover's hand.
   "Please, my lord. I ask only this."
   Sun's face darkened and his smile faded.
   "Most beautiful Moon, I cannot do this. My honor and my brilliance are
   one and the same, and it would be shameful of me to forget my brother
   on my wedding day. Please, my love, ask anything else of me but do not
   ask that I disgrace myself."
   Moved by his passionate words, Moon kissed her intended's forehead and
   responded, "Very well, my dear. However, if you must invite your
   brother, I beg that you find him and demand that he behave properly at
   our nuptial banquet. If you can assure me of this, my love, then I
   will marry you."
   Without a single word, Sun embraced Lady Moon and set off in search of
   his itinerant brother.
   Sun first sought his brother in the burning grounds, those ghastly
   places littered with the charred remnants of his brother's bloody
   feasts. Sadly, the Lord found nothing but the sugary stench of burning
   flesh. Undaunted, Sun searched the alleys and the gutters where his
   brother drank and sang the songs taught to him by the Dead. The echoes
   of those unholy songs remained, and yet Sun's brother was not to be
   found. Finally, after spanning the Heavens and the Earth, Sun found
   his brother sitting naked in the dust of an abandoned switch-yard,
   crafting a necklace from leather and rusted railroad spikes.
   "Greetings, brother Fire," Sun said, bestowing a fraternal smile upon
   his sibling.
   "Greetings, oh brother Sun," Fire whispered. Fire returned his
   brother's smile, brandishing the iron nails which served as his teeth.
   "Have you come to meditate and sing with me?" Fire asked hopefully.
   "I am afraid not," Lord Sun said. "Rather, I have come to inform you
   that I am to be married. My betrothed has requested that you attend
   the banquet arrayed in your finest attire and that you conduct
   yourself with the noblest of manners. If you can promise me this, you
   are welcome to our nuptial feast."
   "Of course, of course, my Lord," Fire said. "The unpleasantness of
   wearing clothing and the burden of proper conduct is always alleviated
   by the promise of a feast. I give you my word that I shall behave."
   Satisfied with his brother's reassurances, Sun departed and began the
   preparations for his wedding feast.
   Fire laughed as he adorned himself for the celebration. Finishing his
   necklace of leather and iron, Fire placed it around his neck; he was
   amused by the way the crumbling metal contrasted with the glistening
   darkness of his obsidian skin.
   "Well, I have my jewels. However, I do not have my music. Any man who
   lacks music would be poor even if he were to possesses an ocean of
   jewels," Fire proclaimed, and remedied his deficiency by tying a
   cluster of silver bells around his penis. Dancing, Fire giggled as the
   bells tinkled obediently.
   "Of course, one must also have modesty," Fire said, and wrapped an old
   cloth around his emaciated waist. Stained with the blood of countless
   victims, the simple loincloth matched the orange of the railroad
   spikes hung about his neck. Content with his attire, Fire began the
   arduous journey to the kingdom of Sun.
   Waylaid by numerous adventures, the mercurial Fire was late for the
   marriage ceremony. He did, however, arrive in time for the banquet.
   Upon entering the temple of his brother, Fire was greeted with a
   vision of opulence. The glittering marble walls of the temple were
   adorned with scintillating fabrics, glimmering with colors glimpsed in
   only the most feverish of dreams. Benign smiles upon their faces, the
   radiant bride and groom sat upon their golden thrones and looked
   lovingly upon their guests. The stars themselves played their harps
   and violins, the ethereal notes of their music cascading from their
   instruments as silver sparks. Couples adorned with the finest jewels
   danced to the heavenly music, waltzing gently in each other's arms.
   None of these wonders impressed Fire as deeply as the banquet tables,
   all of which groaned beneath the weight of the sumptuously glistening
   meats they held. Crying in delight, Fire ignored the disgusted looks
   of the other guests and began to gorge himself upon the wealth of
   delicacies before him. Lord Sun grimaced at the display but remained
   silent, refusing to desecrate the auspicious day with angry words.
   It was then that Fire looked up from his feasting and was seized by a
   vision even more beautiful than the food set before him. Lady Thunder,
   Mother Moon's younger sister, caught Fire's eye. Whereas Mother Moon
   was delicacy and grace, Lady Thunder was supple voluptuousness, a
   masterpiece of curving flesh adorned with dusky skin. Smiling broadly,
   Fire ran to Lady Thunder, intent upon wooing her.
   When Thunder saw Fire approach her, his obsidian skin dressed in blood
   and iron, she cried out in terror. Fire was undaunted; he knew that if
   he could dance and sing, he would be able to seduce her. As he began
   to undulate, Fire was distracted by the melodious music of the stars
   which, devoid of the syncopation he adored, shrieked unpleasantly in
   his ears. His feet tripped over each other and Fire fell upon his
   face, meeting with the derisive laughter of the revelers.
   The humiliated Fire leaped to his feet and tore the foreskin from his
   penis, throwing the bloody piece of flesh at the stellar orchestra.
   Surprised and disgusted, the stars ceased their playing and the
   banquet hall erupted into a cacophony of screams. The infuriated Lord
   Sun drew his flintlock pistol, but Mother Moon stayed her husband's
   trembling hand.
   "Please, my love, do not sully the sanctity of this temple and the
   memory of our marriage with your brother's blood. Banish him if you
   must, but do not kill him."
   When Fire heard Mother Moon's gentle admonition, he grabbed the
   nearest bottle of wine and fled to the safety of the burning grounds.
   Alone among the host of smoldering corpses, Fire drank from his bottle
   and attempted to soothe his aching heart.
   "Why did Thunder spurn me?" Fire cried, shedding his crimson tears.
   "Am I not beautiful enough for her?"
   "Comfort yourself, dearest Fire," the bottle in Fire's hand said,
   chuckling gently. "There is no need for tears. You failed to charm the
   young lady because you were not given the chance to dance and sing.
   You must find her when she is alone, and she shall submit to your
   desires."
   "Perhaps that is so," Fire told the bottle, wiping the tears from his
   face. "However, where could I possibly find her alone?"
   "Ah, an easy enough problem to solve, my beloved!" the bottle cried.
   "Each day Lady Thunder goes to the edge of the Horizon to bathe. Her
   modesty prohibits her from bringing guards to protect her. "
   "Thank you, dearest friend!" Fire laughed, and took another swig from
   his comrade.
   The following day, Fire journeyed to the edge of the Horizon and
   waited for the woman he loved. Seeing Thunder approach adorned in
   nothing more than her own flawless skin, Fire began to sway his
   serpentine limbs. Entranced, Lady Thunder paused and watched the fluid
   darkness of Fire's body as it spun and writhed. Smiling, Fire began to
   sing:
   
                            Come on over, lover,

                          Spend some time with me.

                        I've got nearly everything,

                          A woman wants or needs.

                        I wear rings and fancy shoes

                        I won in bets; I never lose.

                 I've got starry nights and moonlit rings,

                     And songs that only dead men sing.

                         I've got hopes that hung,

                         I've got dreams that died.

                 I've got boats to sail and trains to ride.

               I've got dogs that snarl and birds that preen.

                    I've got broken glass and gasoline.

                     What more could a young lady want?

   Lady Thunder smiled gently, captivated by the display. However, when
   Fire went to embrace his beloved, her nostrils were tickled by the
   metallic smell of blood upon Fire's breath. The musical spell was
   shattered. Screaming, Thunder tried to shove her amorous suitor away.
   Spurned, the dancer's lust became wrath and hunger. Fire wrapped his
   bony fingers around Thunder's neck and strangled her until she lay
   limp in his arms. Having choked the breath of life from her frame,
   Fire sank his curving teeth into the moist warmth of her flesh. The
   murderer gorged himself upon the meaty curves he so passionately
   admired, feasting upon Thunder until he attained blissful satiety. All
   that remained was her skull and a couple of her bones.
   "It is a pity that there is no way to salvage her beauty," Fire
   murmured as he examined the remnants of his frenzy. "If there were
   only--" his contemplation was cut short by a tickling in his throat.
   Coughing violently, Fire spat up Thunder's bloody hymen.
   "I have a most wonderful idea!" Fire cried. Stretching Thunder's hymen
   across the base of her skull, Fire secured the taut skin with a couple
   of rusted nails.
   "A most fantastic drum!" Fire giggled. "Far more entertaining than any
   woman!"
   Fire banged upon upon his new toy with two of Thunder's bones. The
   drum echoed with the lady's voice, a voice as supple and as dusky as
   she had been. Laughing in delight, Fire began to play upon his drum,
   making the Heavens and the Earth shudder.
   It was not long before Father Sun and Mother Moon heard the sound of
   Thunder's screams as they echoed through the sky.
   "My lord, my sister sounds distressed," Mother Moon said. "Please go
   and find whether she is well."
   "As you desire, my queen," Lord Sun replied, and departed to
   investigate. His search led him to the burning grounds, where he found
   his brother playing his grisly new drum.
   "Hello! Hello, dearest brother!" Fire cried, his lips dripping with
   blood. "Have you come to play with my beautiful new toy?"
   "Fire," Lord Sun said, "Where is Thunder? I heard her cries."
   "She is sleeping in a deep, hot cave."
   "Whose skull is that you are playing upon?"
   "It is merely the skull of one of my many victims," Fire answered.
   "There is no need to trouble yourself."
   "Whose skin is that stretched upon the skull?"
   "It is mine," Fire said, and revealed his recently circumcised penis.
   "Fire, whose voice is calling from that drum?"
   Fire began to laugh. "You are too clever! This skull is the remains of
   Thunder and this skin is her maidenhead. She sings so beautifully, my
   brother! Do you wish to dance with me?"
   Howling, Lord Sun drew his pistol and fired, only to miss his nimble
   brother. Pursued by the wrathful Sun, Fire fled to the Great Tree and
   scurried down from the Heavens, devouring the Tree as he descended.
   The Tree reduced to a smoldering stump, Lord Sun had no way to follow.
   The Lord sheathed his pistol and returned to his kingdom to inform his
   wife of Thunder's lamentable fate.
   Unfortunately, having destroyed the World Tree, Fire unwittingly
   exiled himself from the Heavens. Sorrow entered the murderer's spirit
   when he realized there was no way for him to return home, and he began
   to weep violently. Fire began to play upon his new drum to provide
   himself comfort, producing music which echoed the pulse of his
   wretched heart. All of Heaven and Earth resounded with the shuddering
   rhythm of the drummer's sadness. Their souls moved by the music, the
   Celestials learned sorrow and wept violently. The cosmos itself heard
   Fire's song and convulsed in mourning.
   Suddenly, Fire's body was seized by the music he played and he began
   to dance, spinning and leaping in a burning frenzy. Looking down from
   Heaven, the Celestials glimpsed their fallen brother through their
   tears and were struck by the beauty of his motions. All of the
   intricacies of blood and heat guided Fire's limbs, and the Celestials
   felt the pain of their hearts drain away as they watched his ecstatic
   writhing. The stars sang with joy at the sight and the cosmos itself
   began to dance, slowly spinning around the shattered trunk of the
   blasted World Tree.
   Only Fire was bereft of solace. Distracted from his wild dance by the
   shrieking of the stars and the spinning of the world, Fire looked down
   upon his new drum and renewed his weeping. As his tears gently tapped
   upon Thunder's hymen, Fire's sorrow was dispelled and his lips
   contorted into a joyful smile.
   "Of course! Now that Thunder no longer has her maidenhead, she will
   undoubtedly be less prudish! Why would she bother to defend her
   virginity when its symbol now adorns my drum?"
   Fire laughed gleefully...

                                     *

   "...and hopped the nearest freight train, riding it down to the
   Nightside in search of his beloved." The Professor concluded his story
   and took a sip of wine; his throat had obviously been taxed from the
   long narration.
   "Well?" the Professor asked, startling David from his reverie; the
   darkness of the room and the flood of images evoked by the myth had
   inspired something of a light trance.
   "Well what?" The young man rubbed his sore eyes and sat up in his
   chair.
   "What did you think about the myth, David?" The Professor's voice had
   hardened; the gentle reverence had become impatience.
   "It was, uh, interesting," David said, grasping for words. He had
   found the little story repulsive, but doubted the Professor would look
   upon that opinion favorably. "Interesting" would have to suffice.
   "Well, I'm glad that you found it fascinating, but that's not really
   what I wanted to know. What do you think the entire thing meant?" The
   Professor's brows furrowed and his lips curved into a slight frown.
   David's mind struggled for some sort of valid reply; it had become
   obvious that this was some sort of test. Unfortunately, the young man
   was short on answers. What was it the Professor wanted to hear?
   Averting his eyes from the old man's impassive expression, David
   studied the array of sex toys. The weird menagerie of serpentine whips
   and nightmarish masks lay together in a chaotic jumble. Each object
   shone with the light of a dark jewel, each strap of leather glistened
   wetly with fluid darkness. In the dim illumination of the candlelit
   room, the Professor's implements appeared almost sacred. Each brass
   stud twinkled like a jewel, each sharpened steel nail glittered like
   silver. The young man wondered what they would look like painted with
   his blood.
   "They look kind of religious, don't they?" David muttered, staring at
   the toys. The warm air had become oppressively hot, suffocating the
   young man's thoughts and voice until both were choked into whispers.
   Feels like I'm drowning, David's mind murmured dully as it sank,
   speaking to him from out of the depths.
   "I tend to think so, David. But the sacred isn't cheap." The
   Professor's voice echoed down into the pit. "The Tree of Life has iron
   leaves. It's watered with our blood."
   David dragged his hazy eyes to the stern face of the Professor and
   noticed the candlelight shimmering fitfully upon the old man's
   glasses, a frantic dance that all but eclipsed the pale blue eyes that
   lay behind. The Professor took another drag off of his cigarette and
   exhaled, sending runners of smoke writhing from his mouth and
   nostrils. The world became a cavern of heat and confusion.
   "Well David, what does the myth mean?"
   "I don't want to know," the young man whispered.
   "I know you don't, David."
   David nodded silently and pushed himself to his feet. The failed
   initiate turned his back on the Professor and crawled up out of the
   sweltering cave, leaving to find a gentler dream.