Folklore, Myth, Fantasy, and Science Fiction
Perhaps collected or told by Dr. Uranus, these stories and reflections
sometimes cross the boundary of art and science,
of cognitive illusion and real phenomenon.
sometimes cross the boundary of art and science,
of cognitive illusion and real phenomenon.
Uzmalrom's Cave
He stood upon the balcony, the wind wailing like wraiths around the cold mountain. Uzmalrom had built his tower right into the mountain and had moved parts of the mountain back until it was like a stone hand curled around a black staff. Tall and skeletal, the priest was as robed and cloaked as the Grim Reaper--and he might have been happy with the comparison if he could access the folk images. For though his hoarded knowledge was probably the greatest on the planet, few scraps remained of the old cultures. The servants of Uzmalrom zealously searched for remnants, sometimes finding a few pages, the odd picture, or the extremely rare piece of magic. Even in quiet moments of sheer beauty like this one, looking down upon the realm, Uzmalrom felt a hunger to know more. He was driven to fill the tower with more scrolls and books, and his mind with greater knowledge and lore.
The view down to the fields and villages below was indeed beautiful, the City State of Lak visible in the distance. Behind the mountain, visible from the topmost point of the tower was a tarn, vaguely shaped like a hawk with outstretched wings spanning a mile with the tail-feather contour merged right into the base of the mountain. The forest surrounding the tarn was said to be enchanted, and every few years, Uzmalrom discovered barbarians scouring the terrain for magical items in their relentless zeal to rid the world of all magic.
Uzmalrom felt the familiar tightening in his stomach that always came before meeting with the oracle--not quite of fear or hope, but still a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. The ritual stages of the encounters always helped to ease his uncertainty. He did not go empty handed, for he had a new item to place upon the altar. As he descended the stairs into the heart of the mountain, he gripped the new hemisphere tightly. The smooth surface of strange material that composed the half globe was cool in his fingers.
Continued in Blog
He stood upon the balcony, the wind wailing like wraiths around the cold mountain. Uzmalrom had built his tower right into the mountain and had moved parts of the mountain back until it was like a stone hand curled around a black staff. Tall and skeletal, the priest was as robed and cloaked as the Grim Reaper--and he might have been happy with the comparison if he could access the folk images. For though his hoarded knowledge was probably the greatest on the planet, few scraps remained of the old cultures. The servants of Uzmalrom zealously searched for remnants, sometimes finding a few pages, the odd picture, or the extremely rare piece of magic. Even in quiet moments of sheer beauty like this one, looking down upon the realm, Uzmalrom felt a hunger to know more. He was driven to fill the tower with more scrolls and books, and his mind with greater knowledge and lore.
The view down to the fields and villages below was indeed beautiful, the City State of Lak visible in the distance. Behind the mountain, visible from the topmost point of the tower was a tarn, vaguely shaped like a hawk with outstretched wings spanning a mile with the tail-feather contour merged right into the base of the mountain. The forest surrounding the tarn was said to be enchanted, and every few years, Uzmalrom discovered barbarians scouring the terrain for magical items in their relentless zeal to rid the world of all magic.
Uzmalrom felt the familiar tightening in his stomach that always came before meeting with the oracle--not quite of fear or hope, but still a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. The ritual stages of the encounters always helped to ease his uncertainty. He did not go empty handed, for he had a new item to place upon the altar. As he descended the stairs into the heart of the mountain, he gripped the new hemisphere tightly. The smooth surface of strange material that composed the half globe was cool in his fingers.
Continued in Blog
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The Future is not written yet…
Like The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, these dreams, visions, and archetypal patterns are only food for thought.
Imagination and storytelling can help us tap into our subconscious thoughts, feelings deep within our hearts, and even the better angels of our nature.
Like The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars, these dreams, visions, and archetypal patterns are only food for thought.
Imagination and storytelling can help us tap into our subconscious thoughts, feelings deep within our hearts, and even the better angels of our nature.