Into the Obsidian Forge

After a month of slumber Arcadia has rissen from hibernation, licking its mottled fur and stumbling out of the earthen burrow constructed in December.

Here’s yesterdays warm up, and some superfluous commentary:

This past month I’ve been so tied up at work that the idea of paving the driveway to my blog has been the last thing on my mind. During a visit to a neighboring human settlement i was spotted by the resident master race and marked for collection. I have now been assimilated into the their fold of creatives and hooked up to the machine. I lay, submerged in a cocktail of nutriments and preservatives, with needles and tubes piercing my body at odd angles. I am but one of several glands in the body that is the machine, excreting creativity as harvesting-drones scurry by to collect the brimming containers my fellow glands have filled during the night.

I wash my hands of the words that tumble out of my mind and onto this blog – most of them anyway. The fact is that this is the good kind of pain. It’s like breaking bones to regrow them. Hopefully stronger. I suspect that they are reshaping my mind into a more capable, consistent processing unit. One that is not riddled with borderline disorders.

I’ve been held up by a rigorous series of trails, most of which were by fire and some of which featured brimstone – even the occasional patch of sulfur. Sitting atop their lofty pillars, the local deities judged my every move, watching me with ashen faces while jotting grimly in huge tomes resting on their laps. The gauntlet will be closing tightly over the next weeks, funneling into my inauguration into the hive mind. I steel myself, and I leave you this message – just in case.

- SF