Wednesday, November 11, 2015


"What am I to do, yes, give me another beer, will you, "waking up. "This nightmare, soon to be ended, for sure."

"There you are, son" she says. Grandma found me. Strange, addressing me as son. I swing my beer at her, missing purposely, yet acknowledging my rage, starting to sob, breaking down, taking the end in the now. Pitying, overwhelmed and numbed.

Whagh, surrendering to the gauging of vomit, splashing, smearing the hard wood table, red cushion coated chairs and all compassionate grandma. "Burb," I feel better already. "Sorry, mom." Accepting, yet, raving at my indisputable grim destiny to come. I die, so what!

Monday, November 9, 2015


"What happened to you?" Cleo asked, walking in with a hot cup of tea in her hands. "You look upset."

"Grandpa just told me he wants to kill me in three months, and my grandma is my mother," I uttered.

"At last, the games have begun," she said calmly. "I'm Cleopatra from the second house. My family ordered me marrying you, helping you, killing your grandfather. He is more evil then you think. Do you understand what I'm saying here? "

I dug my face for the second time in the pillow, stripped from the last shred of remaining dignity. "Yes, you don't love me!"

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Wake Up

"So, you're going to kill ME? Just try, I dare you!" grandpa said.

"Heu," all I could utter, pressing my head deeper into the nicely fluffed pillow, hoping he would disappear, hoping to startle from the nightmare, eyes wide open. 

But, he sitting there, even more calm than I remembered, even more iconic than I wished, deriding the mere fact I am.

"Yes, I killed you're father and yes, I'll kill you!" he said. "Your dad didn't make it through the first gate, you knew that? The soft fuck, still swimming in the lake of fire, he sure is! Then I took his wife as mine, claiming ones again my regal inheritance, as I've done for the last 400 years, defeating ones again for the sixteenth time you-scum-semen-waste." 

Grandpa left the bedroom, mockery written on his hinterland, leaving me behind, devastated. 

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Key Holder

"Just sit down," Theresa said, "I'll explain what's going on as you have probably only three months left to live."

That caught my attention, death is something I always wanted to be, if just to annoy the old man. Now, I'm not so sure anymore. Life suddenly became dear to me, more precious than pleasing the old fool.

"You are the offspring of Cleopatra the seventh, you know her don't you?" I nodded as Theresa continued her story.

"She asked Ra to save her son, as she was to be killed. A sacrifice, you could call it, saving her bloodline, but with a twist. There can only be two descendants alive. You having a son means there will be three, doesn't it?" Not pausing, nor looking up to see my dumb face expression. 

"You got three months to claim your heritage, because on the last day of the full moon of the third month, you will go through the twelve gates of the underworld. You understand me? You're so-called grandfather will accompany you, and only one will come back. Got a question for me, do you? I didn't think so."

"In all of these books you'll find the key to stay alive, and kill the "old bastard" as you call him. A wish to come true! As the key holder, I will assist you on these last ventures. For so I have done with your late father."

Sunday, November 1, 2015


Theresa dragged her aged bones forth, out of the elevator, down the marble stairs. "Put you index-finger here," she said.

"Whoa, grandpa really got me now." Obeying her simple command slavishly, ancient marvel admiring, unaware the poignant to precipitate violently... "AUW"

"Must have past out, try to remember," I thought. Clearing my eyes vision with a hand rub, a salty metallic taste hit my tongue. Blood. Splashed blood, all over the floor. 

"Oh my god," I gasped   

"Pussy;" she deliberately articulated slowly," pick up the right-index phalange lying near your left foot. Put it back on your hand. NOW!"

I did just that, entranced by the mere accentuation of her voice. And it sticked, able to move my hand healed freely, as before.

"Welcome, young master, welcome to the twelfth house." Theresa said. "Let's have a look at your legacy, shall we?" pointing at the open vault, revealing the real library.

“In dreams last night
the heavens and the earth poured

out great groans while I alone
stood facing devastation. 
Some fierce and threatening creature 
flew down at me
and pushed me with its talons toward
the horror-filled house of death
wherein lrkalla, queen of shades,
stands in command.

There is darkness 
which lets no person 
again see light of day.

There is a road leading away from
bright and lively life.
There dwell those who eat dry dust
and have no cooling water 
to quench their awful thirst.
As I stood there I saw all those who’ve died
and even kings among those darkened souls
have none of their remote and former glory.

All earthly greatness was forfeit 
and I entered then 
into the house of death.
Others who have been there long
did rise to welcome me.”

"I love to recite the last praying words of the dying Enkidu," she said, smiling as I've never seen her smile before. As it was she who insisted on the building of this replica-gate four-hundred years ago.

"Yes, you heard right, 400 years ago." 

Friday, October 30, 2015


"Why did grandma want me to come to the library of Mortsel?" I wondered. Obeying her simple demand, she whispered, prompted nervously. 

"Yes," the beehive entrance of the rebuild outrages small town edifice was a marvel. Granddad, clearly inspired by a sanitarian neatness, I thought mockingly. 

Yet, overwhelmed by it's simple modern urban softness illuminated interior, openness created by the large ceiling ongoing window sections, expressing  vision and wisdom for those who read. "A basic enough concept," sneeringly gaping around me.

"Oh, there you are," Theresa whispered, "grandma told you'd be here speedily; curiosity hasn't killed the cat, yet!" She chuckled, slowly uprising from the latest library acquisition, putting the book aside, gazing to the back-lounge wall, not even rendering me a glance. 

"Still hobbling, are we?"I thought silently. Even at the age of four I identified her, the most wrinkled fossilized erudite ever. She still is, apparently. I looked over my right shoulder, following her lead.

An immense back-wall panel glided open, exposing the biggest library vault, EVER, I thought, leaving me baffled, in pure awe.

"The pussy goes first," she says.

Monday, October 26, 2015

House 12

Getting the luggage out of the taxi, Cleo stared at the drawbridge. I was proud to show her this masterpiece of modern art, entrance to my families save haven, as it has always been. Look, starting to sing to us in tremble high notes... Grandma knows we're coming!

Friday, October 23, 2015


"The mayor called, you should go home," the nurse said, "and the doctor can see you now, down the hall on your left," she continued.

"You've got a broken ankle," looking at the x-ray, not even looking up when I walked in the office, "rather nasty and complex," he added, hesitation, then stuttering, staring at my feet, "or not."

"Your wife, in her third month ... everything seems okay, the baby has no apparent injuries."  I smile nervously, as I was the cause of the car accident, not knowing how she would take my stupidity. Stubbornness actually, not able to stop when provoked.

Ferociousness kills when unleashed, but makes progress when reasoning fails. Thus, timing becomes of the utmost importance, a skill I have not mastered yet, apparently, honey. She got dressed, we checked out. I wonder where the rednecks remained, nurse naively staring at me, not being able to remember anyone else checking in last night.  

Sorbonne Tumbling two

Never expected you back so soon, before supper, take the week of, will you, you won't get a third audience, trust me.

The dean looked more serious, no need to explain. But I want to blame the chick, giggling away, showing her Sorbonne-tumbling-selfie-penis-shot, my penis. I tripped, the class-room-theater-stairs giving away, the depth of the abyss into fainting darkness, smashing face upon the student writing desk. Exam over, exit, ambulance ride, twice today.

Don't even know how I got to this Paris-midnight bar, heavy wood-nostalgia filled bent over, to squeeze in under the lowered dark-oak ceiling, accordion filling confined cel, myself surrendering walking together with a bottle of Johnny. And, oh my god, how could she, you're joking, not again. Abasing me in an overcrowded auditorium, wasn't enough, was it?

Her shiny black coal, reaching to her angel-wing shoulder-blades, hair, all too swiftly making way following her nodding nay-saying fairy, pail taint, exposing, the most intense radiant no inclusions revealing emerald green eyes. Warmest, softest, yet embarrassing heart-braking sensation hunching me out of my chair, hitting the oak beam, knocked out for the third time.

Cleo brought me the next morning to the emergency room. Smirking gazed how my war-spear being stitched, again, holding a cold-pack against my lumped skull. Well, I couldn't use a rubber in this condition, could I.

Never regretted this night, not even when I paid the dean another visit, three weeks later, to tell him, I impregnated the most beautiful student, the love of my life. The dean was in a meeting, it seemed, I was relieved of my academic duties!

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Sorbonne tumbles

Starting out most prosperous, a teaching job at the famous Sorbonne, financial law, a subject becoming all to easy for me.

Loosing it all in just three consecutive occasions.

Opening speech of the academic year, never done before, an assistant, me, giving a exposé on the stock-market deregulations. Sure to impress, awaiting the erudite attendees to be seated, sipping away on a coffee, biting, tasting the sacrifice roll-like cardboard cup-side desiccating my throat even more."Yes, I would love another coffee," and, "yes, I would love another coffee." stammering on every syllable pronounced upholding the leaderships-pose, burnishing control.

Well, almost shitting my pants, literally. Clenching my rectum muscle, barely made it to the toilet. Hopefully nobody comes in after me! Maybe, another piss, just in case.

"Sixty seconds," clamored a high-pinched electronic speaker voice sending a shiver all along up my spine, fulminating. Did I just caught my prick with my zipper.

The dean, called me the next day in his chambers, still chuckling. "Never seen before, sunny, never seen before, and I've been around a long time, now. Did the emeritus professor stitch you penis beautifully? Now bursting out in laughter.

Yes, I made it to the stage, uttering one word, "hello", then collapsing in a puddle of blood sipping out of my pants. "What are the changes, the zipper hooked a vain," Francine, oncology professor, said, urging everybody to calm down while tying of the wound, exposing my genitals to the most prominent attendees.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

F..CK, home AGAIN!

"No," Cleo yelled, "I'm pregnant." Seconds later a gun went off near my ear.

"Are you okay, honey?" Shivering and crawling, the scattered front screen broken glass scratching my hands, the obtrusive petrol fragrance first stinging my eyes, then cloaking, eclipsing the full moon. I was crying, mad as hell.

I recalled the rednecks at the traffic lights giving me the finger. Then, speeding the ancient Roman road, two-driveway wide, repaved recently, main access to Mortsel, a little village near Antwerp in Belgium, then crashing.

She was okay, but little did we know, the pendulum stirred, for the ninety-ninth time, again. Countdown has begun.

Only one thought emerged: "F..CK, home AGAIN!"

Friday, October 16, 2015

Prologue - Cleopatra

A sudden expected sharp thud of a knock on the door. Time slipping fast, decision urges, impounding all, no regrets because persisting to continue existing.

accept this offer
serving you
I'm willing
change fortune
and take me
Nea Isis

Cleopatra died. Not Octavius but an asp, ended the story. As for her children, what happened?

Only an inside in Cleo's last surviving pulse gives but a blink. Now, just one child survived, although erased from inscription and legend...

Until we pick up the actual tale, today... uniting the world ones again. For what, a king does best but to reign.