The Stone shops, and houses, buildings and archways, alleys, cobblestone streets of Tangier, the hills and walls, and the coastal sea next to its city-dwelling, some of the old structures from the days of the Moors, Dr. Nutt had went back to Tangier in the year 1999, having visited it in 1997 and liking the climate. Previously he had visited Algiers in 1998, when he had his run with Agaliarept, Henchman from Tartarus, Lord of Five Legions. Again he was on a tour, vacation from his work at the Los Andes Space Station high up in the Andes of Peru.
He parted his group, just inside the Kasbah, to go out on his own, as often he did. He liked to feel his feet on those old cobblestone streets. Should you have stood on the upper wall of one of a two or three story building, you would have seen a yellow lighthouse overlooking the sea, the plateau streets below the hills, to the upper part of the city proper.
The Journal Notes of Dr. Nutt:
"The group I was with came to its end in the Kasbah, the sea was in full view. For me I ended up hidden somewhat between stone structures only its black reflection, its shadows and still air came from the faint crack stones in the alleyway I found myself in, below my feel I heard a buzzing as it the smoothness of the stones were talking. My friends were looking I presume someplace on the Cliffside of the upper part of the city, this was my second trip to Tangier, the first one was three years ago, in 1997, it is July 1, of 2000 A.D., now, I'm in my hotel making these notes up for posterity. Anyhow, as I stood in the alley, I was thinking of looking for a café, I was hungry for fried fish, but the oil that came from the streets indicating such a dish was putrid. And now the buzzing under my feet, with several cracked and misplaced cobblestones, as if they were being separated on purpose by the discipline of whatever was pushing against those stones. It brought back the memory of that diabolic creature I witnessed a few years back, with the horse head.
"Heat was swallowing up from the stone buildings on all three sides of me, it was hard to breathe, the sunlight beating down on me, I was bare headed and felt sleepy; it was as if I was like walled in next to a furnace, and the earth cracking open under my feet per near roasting them to hotdogs: like splintering flaks of fire coming out. What was its cause? As I looked up under that flood of blistering sunlight, falling from the sky, the heat was even greater where I stood still without movement. Matter of fact, it was hard to move, a strange red glare come from the several cracks now, and the stones were hot as the fires in hell. I could hear small waves lapping from the sea, my shoes per near as hot as the stones, I moved a little closer to the shaded area of the buildings, to avoid the heat. I could feel my temples swelling, then I kicked open a small hump of stone displaced. When I came nearer to see what was under it, I didn't think of what might come out of it, perhaps now thinking it could have been my undoing.
"As I stood there so stiflingly from the heat, big flies were bussing from the crack, coming out and settling on the outer-side of the cobblestones as if testing their wingspan, or winding up for flight, red-eyed flies the size of my thumb, some larger than the tip of my thumb. It all rather alarmed me. I began to feel squeamish, and thought of leaving quickly, the buzzing of the flies were jarring on my ears, but I feared if I moved, they'd attack me. I've no idea how many there were, a 100,000-thousand or more I presume. I called them devil flies, but were they from that monster who called himself, Lord of Five Legions? From the depts. Of hades? Or just a nest of huge and ferocious flies from the guts of Tangier's sewer-system?
"They swarmed around me, and gave me what I called ironical indifference, gazing hard at me, like bates, what held my attention was their heads and eyes, I had an odd impression I was being scrutinized, on a superficial view."
Now that I think of it sitting here in my hotel room on the edge of the bed, pen and paper of the account on the pillow next to me, the so called devil flies provided me with one thing, if anything, besides being scared half to death, should they attack me with those regretful little fangs, the humblest of pleasures, life's past events how, how I loved to laugh, and take my walks, and visit friends, and have a hamburger, near death does that you know-you think of the human condition, that you don't have control over all you think you have. They could have taken me by the throat and choked my breathing, made me vomit out the rest of my life. My one idea, "Get it over with quick." A phenomenal consciousness of this will stay with me forever. And it made me think the irrationality of life is inevitable. We must live in part with the philosophical notion of the absurd, is alive and yet to be defined, all around us. I wanted to call disease control, but what for, they'd be gone, and most likely the official's would come up with potentially multiple meanings from experience.
They, the giant flies looked at me dispassionately. This fearful sight was irrevocable, try as I might, I couldn't breathe right during that long, forever long moment, it ordeal, and they left as if they had another mission. But what I thought at the time was I didn't have a dogs-chance to run, escape, that it was a change in a thousand to get away, my heart echoed in my head. Metaphorically speaking, inside my head a dark wind still is blowing.
By and large, we have little to no control over things, irrationality of life is inevitable. Here I find flies, giant flies, what does that tell you, and what does it tell the person I want to tell? It tells him I live in a world of the absurd. What does that mean? It has a multiple meaning, we all live in the sphere of the phenomenal, for each time I come to this part of the world, it is like the underworld turns its back on its own bay to bother me, and it comes symbolically, it takes away for a moment, my freedom of being at ease. Agaliarept, plagued me a few years back, like a Gestapo, and now the plague-stricken flies. And once again I am bound to silence. I am better off gazing up and telling my story to the stars and moon. Should I tell the authorities, or my comrades at the Space Station, of this unspeakable evil? It's really not a question, a statement-question at best, but should I, what would be their point of view? You'd think I'd cause an epidemic of madness, but no, they would be speculating on my sound of mines, and detachment at world would follow, criticism, they would say, "It's a doubtful case, where are the flies now?" Perhaps they'd say, he's under stress and has turned to religion, and things God is sending a plague. The psychologist might say, he has lapses into unreality, he was dreaming, day dreaming. You see where I'm at?
We live in an incomprehensible universe, with and little men who try to be transcendent gods. They are arbitrary and capricious, so I say nothing, why? Not out of pessimism, although I do distrust per near everyone around me, not knowing who to trust, but out of fear to be exiled.
#5060/2-8-2016
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