daunte cullpepper necklace

Chapter Two: The Moreton

John was not the bedwetting type. His nightmares as a child were fairly conservative when he compared them with the other children, during little lunch at primary school. His main fears consisted of odd shaped characters and personalities that sought to twist his mind. One extreme case was Mr Squiggle. It wasnrsquo;t so much as having a pencil for a nosehellip;as it was the fact that it never seemed to run out of lead. No great sized pencil sharpener to blow, or wax, or surgerize such an appendage. The talking blackboard gave him chills, as did the news that Mr squiggle was a man from the moon. But the freaky side of things for John, was Miss Jane talking politely to these strange characters like she grew up with them. John needed a week off school the very first time he watched the show. The ldquo;upside downrdquo; drawings spun his mind. He couldnrsquo;t go outside his house for a month without searching for the strange people who were in on it too. You knowhellip;those people sending the doodles in to the show.

But this was no upside down world John found himself to be in. It was the same modern society he went to bed knowing. Last night, although a terrible night sleep, was just an ordinary night. He would go to bed at a decent hour of the night, and dream or not to dream. What may have been slightly unusual for him though, was the congestion of wax in his ears that clogged his hearing, even during his woken hours. This substance at times seemed to hum to him. A pulse came from it, calming, relaxing and meditative. Alien in particular language, yet familiar, as if it spoke from his own motherrsquo;s womb during incubation. A lullaby almost, that throbbed through his veins and drummed an echo of visions and stereophonic vibrations.

A dense mist came seeping through the door of the apartment. Soon John could not see one inch in front of his eyes. This was not so easy now. His breath shortened and quickened. He should see now, only through the palms of his feet. Stretching forward, tentatively as a cat, searching for a layer of familiarity, he planted one foot in front of the other, guided by the shape of the crack within the floor. Itrsquo;s texture was earthy. A soil like substance protruded through the winding crevice, almost moulding to his feet as he stepped. A sticky residue gripped his foot, embedding onto his soles as if they were the lost dead cells that once belonged to him, now re-igniting the chemistry and unity of the ever changing body.

Soon this newly invented style of walking became like first nature to John. His movement glided across the ground before him, as if hovering upon a magnetic rail. His feet felt light. His senses were numb. His dependency was now totally mutualised by this force from beyond. Not the fog itself. This was dense and solid. He had the feeling of anticipation that accompanied a large banquet with relatives and friends. Where he was heading, he knew, he would not be alone. But, for nowhellip;it was him and only him, and the beyond. Then, through a tunnel of light breaking through the fog up ahead, he could see it. It was deep and congested with magically familiar characteristics. Its arms were many and reached outwards. They sprayed as if searching through space with ownership and absolute assuredness. Each part belonging to the other, but individual in magnitudes and intensity. A spiritual awareness surged from the solid trunk from which they grew. The dense quality once again struck awe inside of John. This object of massive life was upon him. The great moreton bay fig.

By Michael Taylor.
daunte cullpepper necklace, daunte cullpepper ice, daunte cullpepper college, daunte cullpepper biography.