Mystic of Sodom: Flowered Moon

Two years have passed, and yet, I’ve learned so little. They say sorcerer is synonymous with secret, but the expression speaks so little to the absurd tasks filling my days. However, he would balk at the word ‘sorcerer’, a man of the unknown sciences, he calls himself. I, the would-be apprentice, follow each task to the letter. Even now as the soreness and pressure grow at my base on this languish walk home. The earlier excitement already faded to a memory. Constant repetition made all singular instances bleed into one.

The path turned from pavement to dirt a quarter kilometer back, but the clear bright morning gave a little joy to the jaunt through the woods. My first trip here had made the thicket seem perilous, but now provides comfort. Gnarly trees warped by some long forgotten storm. Their giant shapes told an ancient quality to this domain. Animals, which avoided humans at all costs, walked unperturbed, but you kept your distance if you had sense. My younger self was frightened to near death at just one of those sites, and I hadn’t even reached the river yet. Twenty-six at the time, my immaturity still brought embarrassment to me now. The memory floated into mind at odd times. I was too old then to let fear rule over logic. If nothing else, the ‘Scholar’ corrected that. That fearful delusional trek into the unknown changed many things.

Envious of the rushing river, my legs could not move more quickly. The discomfort had reached its max at eyeshot of the rickety bridge. The closeness to the cottage always brought anticipation for a choir to be done. Ten minutes separated me from some sleep and sanity.

Basil stood outside the door with Laelaps at his feet. Laelaps, the pup that resembled a wolf more than any dog, was born just after Anthony’s fixture here. Anthony, who was appearing just this moment from the path with a smile and slight exhaustion under the eye. The water wheel along the house told the seconds passing with each splash.

“Good morning Scholar,” the greeting was formal as the man searched Basil’s face for his current disposition.

“Good morning Anthony. Did you bring the flower?” Laelaps sprung to his feet with the greeting and darted in some unknown errand himself. Anthony toyed with the buckle in his bag pulling forth a napkin containing the delicate flower.

“I tried my best, but it is early in the season…”

“Good enough,” Basil said to shutter unnecessary excuses before they meandered. “For the other task, how many this night.” Basil did not need Anthony’s confirmation with this duty. Hidden skills alerted him the moment of accomplishment but not the exact precision that would invariably affect their work.

“I received 4 men, but only two left their seed.”

“I was hoping for more, but it is sufficient. Let’s be on with it.” Anthony nodded as they walked to the workroom. Glass cylinders and jars lined the wall, filled and unfilled. A fire flickered in the corner with some concoction in process. A plethora of tools laid over nearly ever surface, but Anthony eyes focused on the small stand by the long stone slab table. The stand held a few instruments he wished it did not. The long table had a shallow indentation perfectly sized for a human body. Without prompting Anthony stripped his clothes, he knew the process. Basil washed his hands in preparation.

The fire’s light caught the sheen surface wrapping Anthony’s genitals. Where another man would have a flaccid dangling form, Anthony’s was encased in a cage of sorts. Fixed by a ring that wrapped around the base and his testicles. A sun-symbol protruded from top but below the navel. His sore bottom held a metal form protruding from his sphincter. He felt the tip of the form making sure it was still sealed.

“Leave it in,” Basil said with his back still turned as he washed his hand. Anthony had come to expect his unnatural awareness. He stopped caressing the tip of the object within him. He laid on the table bare, except for the confines around his genitals. Eyes closed, Anthony waited for what came and the sleep to follow. Basil followed with an oil dispenser, and set it on the stand with a bowel. He pushed Anthony’s thighs apart and bent his legs till the soles of the feet were flat. His hands reached for the logged instrument as he placed the bowel beneath. Delicately, it was removed with Anthony giving a sigh as small drops of seed dribbled out. “Release it all.” Anthony’s hole compressed and contracted forcing the liquid forward. The bowel stood a quarter full as Basil retrieved it with care to make sure no drops were lost. There was barely enough for his purpose. He pulled a skewed rod that looked made of bone if not for its odd shaped with three bulbs along its length. Dosed in oil, he probed Anthony’s hole with it. Anthony’s various grunts reiterated the soreness there. He finessed it forwards and backwards with it slowly sinking into the mans body. He turned his attention to the fluid in the bowel. Potions, scattered on the stand, were mixed in, except one. The undiluted potion fed to Anthony directly. Basil had to hold his nose and mouth as he cringed from the unpleasant taste and smell until he swallowed. He release to his hand to fill his mouth again with the just made solution. Anthony cringed at it, but Basil made it understood not to swallow, just yet. He marked a few protruding veins from the neck to the groin with the residuals in the bowel. Anthony’s face was in a bizarre contortion, clearly reviling the substance. A single crystal like form, shaped like a praying man, laid on his navel.

Basil pressed the sun symbol of the cage. It glowed as the contraption undid itself. The slick surface retracted like a foreskin folding up into the ring, which then unwound itself into the sun symbol. Only the symbol remained, fixed into Anthonys flesh, an unusual attachment. The glow flickered out as Anthony stiffened at the opportunity. Oil was dribbled on the phallus, and Anthony writhed with sensitivity. The figure bobbled on Anthony’s abdomen until Basil reprimanded Anthony and reset it. Then, with steady motion, Basil began with both hands to grasp at the Anthony’s excitement and the rode protruding into his body. In tandem, they worked to drive Anthony to the ritual’s conclusion. The solution in Anthony’s mouth nearly entirely consumed by small swallows of saliva to keep breathing. Time tipped against them, but the solution had to hold until the end.

Anthony’s breath quickened. His body twinged, consuming the rod within him deeper, and pressed forward his anatomy in Basil’s hand. Basil increased the motion but retained the genteelness. Gobs flew as Anthony shook, and Basil aimed the flow at the figurine barely upright. It glowed with a hue similar to dusk light. Anthony’s contribution drawn into it as if by gravity and consumed with the crystal praying man, not nearly a drop remained.

Anthony lost consciousness, his head turning as the eyes wound close. The glassy haze appeared before surrender to the basic necessity of rest. Energy is consumed and transferred; never destroyed! To understand the mechanics, you had the practice of being the vessel.

Basil removed the skewed rod still inside. His hand tugging it jokingly as if uncertainty to remove. Two subtle movements and he relented dislodging it. Anthony had done more than his share last night. The praying man conserved once more in storage. The brick wall hid a safe, lined with copper. An intricate contraption of a nine point star severed as the lock. Each turn produced the most unsavory sound as the star’s points rearranging themselves.

Carried to a bath in the main quarters. The reflective sun symbol hung on Anthony’s flesh, even after the rest of him dangled. Restored to some measure, he woke in a daze. Basil staid with him until its completion lest he fall asleep and drown. The inexperienced wore themselves with each transfer. There were so many things to account for the energy within you. Matrices of matrices, it took time to know which needed adjusting and when. After that, you could figure the degree. The stumbling walk led from the bath to Anthony’s room. An L-shape and impractical room was spacious with broad windows. Basil pulled the blinds as soon as Anthony laid in the bed, the covers undone. At the very last chore, he illuminated the sun symbol letting the contraption fold over Anthony’s being once more. The flower, picked just this morning, hung in the room upside down from the ceiling, a pace or so from the bed. It was luminous in tandem with the much brighter sun sigil’s glow. The petals gave a soft pale shine as they folded in again under gravity. A flowered moon orbited a body, which orbited a star, all in pull.