The Twelve Days of Christmas (iv)
Day One - Day Two - Day Three
Dramatis Personae… Vesper (the protagonist), Evensong (his love), Vesper’s Broken Body (the trials and tribulations of seeking love), William Shakespeare (love as weakness), A Dagger (strength of mind), Belial (Nazi General & arch-demon of Hell), Azazel (Nazi soldier & demon of Hell), Balder (trainee demon of Hell & chef), Four Calling Birds (war, famine, pestilence & death), An Apocalypse (an apocalypse), A Christmas Tree (Hell (love gone wrong)).
Day Four
352nd Branch
Ting!
A dull chord echoed up and down a wooden stairwell. Vesper, panting, stood against the wall and clutched his wounded shoulder. He was covered in burns and blood treacled from his neck. He’d been climbing the stairs for hours. Through each and every doorway was the tree, engulfed in fire. The heat in the stairwell was becoming too much to bear. He sighed, miserably.
"Nine days," he muttered to himself, "nine days before this is all gone."
"Ay, 'tis true," said a voice.
Vesper looked up in surprise, to see a man dressed in fine (albeit singed and bloody) clothes.
"Uhh," said Vesper.
"I beseech you, my lad, be not afeard. I am, for the while, harmless to thee."
"Who are you?"
"I am Will Shakespeare. And who are you?"
"Vesper."
Shakespeare approached Vesper and clapped him on the back. Vesper grimaced in pain.
"Welcome, Vesper! A pity that our meeting is so sick in fortune! You seem a fine fellow to me, an’ if you be not a sprite. I see something in your eyes which I would fain call friend."
"You do?" said Vesper cautiously, remembering Vasuman, "What might that be?"
"Marry, 'tis the spirit of love, you poor sot."
There was something genuine in this man’s eyes, thought Vesper. At any rate, he was stuck here with him – Vesper had to rest. He’d lost a lot of blood.
"I am in love, yes. Her name is Evensong."
"Then we are brothers in this awful thing."
"In what thing? Hell?"
"Hell! Hell is but a fly to a god, when set against the evil lust of the blood we call love."
"But what do you mean? Love isn’t evil. At least, I don’t see love as evil. How can it be?"
"Thou art as fresh to this game as lilies are to souring. My own heart has oft importuned in love, more times than I can recall. It has not been a joyous time."
"That doesn’t make it evil, Will. Perhaps you’ve been unlucky?"
"Nay, 'tis not fortune's auspices that govern love. To be in love is a weakness nonpareil in all the domains I have traversed. My entire life, I wrote sad and merry tales of love and its bitter sweets. I have composed sonnets to its praises and its follies. If I could but see the logic of it, forsooth! What chance hast thou? Mayhap 'tis a failing of mine own, but I should second guess that. See here, where art thou going?"
"To Heaven, to find Evensong."
"Then surely thou art a dog in madness! We dwell in the fourth day of twelve of an apocalypse and you are journeying to Heaven!"
"I have to see her – I haven’t seen her in so long. If I’m going to die, I want to touch her once again. Just once. That’s all I ask."
"Well that's a small price! Look at you, scorched and blood-stricken, you are with sickness so enfeebled, yet you quest to touch a wench before you die! And the culprit in this demented plan? Love! Tell me with open eyes that this is not an evil beyond comparison!"
"I love her. When I see her again, that love will give me a gift far greater than anything else I’ve known here."
Shakespeare shook his head, smiling.
"You speak my own thoughts. In hearing that I'll call you brother and fool."
"But… You think love is evil?"
"Ay, 'tis the greatest of evils, that lets its nature be known, and laughs as still we kneel at Lucifer's painted toes. I, too, am in love."
"Is she in this tree, also?"
"With your own true love, in Heaven, I'd venture. I journey there too. No, I fully see my folly and also believe what you have just heard from my lips. So by my former lecture and advice, shall you know your folly, my lad."
"Your words have touched me, Will. Maybe we’d fare slightly better if we travelled together?"
"No. We make these journeys alone. My own intentions and yours will make us testy rivals and lead us astray. Cupid paints us blind and so we grow selfish towards the end."
"Oh, I’m sure we’d remain friends-"
Shakespeare unsheathed a long dagger and looked down at it. His face grew cold.
"Brother, I'd take a pound of flesh from closest to your heart, if that was the first or last thing between me and my love."
The words hung in the air a brief moment.
"Then I shall leave you."
"Wait, while we still call each other brother, let me hold the handle to your hand. Take this with you!"
Shakespeare proffered the dagger. Vesper looked at it cautiously.
"If some monstrous creature of the Undertree comes between you and your Evensong, lay this bright steel against its throat and tug loose its hold on life."
Shakespeare chuckled. Vesper took the dagger from him.
"Take strength from it. You will need it. Love is a weakening force. And I have been weak for so long."
"Then you keep it - you need it more than I."
"Nay, my lad, I've no use for it. I have chanced upon a long-ranged device."
Shakespeare brought out what looked like a small machine-gun.
"To say the sooth, 'tis stronger than a dagger. Now off with you, sprightly, may love enter your sails and carry you up! God knows when we shall meet again, but our dismal scenes we needs must act alone. Fare thee well, Vesper!"
Vesper left up the stairs.
Day Four
201st Branch
Balder was a very good chef. So good, in fact, that he’d been ‘acquired’ from Purgatory, by Hitler, to serve the troops of Hell. His food was renowned the Tree over, especially when it came to Christmas dinner. As it was, he was now walking through a large mess hall at the top of Hell, carrying a plate of Christmas left-overs through the thronged crowds of demons, familiars and ghouls that surrounded a long dining table. He plopped the plate down between two Nazi soldiers.
"More turkey?" said Balder.
"Oh, delightful!" said Belial.
She took up her fork and stabbed more food onto her plate.
"Come on Az, dig in. Balder makes the best turkey this side of Purgatory, isn’t that right Balder?"
"It is true, Lady Belial." said Balder.
"Az! Take some food, sweet pea."
"No thank-you, ma’am." said Azazel.
"Oh 'at ease', Az, for the love of god, 'at ease'!"
"Sorry, Belial. I’ll just have some stuffing, thanks." said Azazel.
Balder wasn’t very good at making conversation with the other demons yet. Although a powerful ex-angel in his own right, he felt a bit awkward in Hell.
"So, how is the apocalypse today?" he said.
"Oh!" said Belial, in shock and with her mouth full. She carefully chewed and swallowed daintily before continuing, "sorry I didn’t see you behind me still! Well, yes indeed, the apocalypse seems to be going well. The Calling Birds went out today at 1400, I think? Az?"
"Yeff, fourteenhumbrethours," said Azazel, his mouth full of stuffing.
"Calling Birds?" said Balder.
"Oh Balder, you tease!"
Balder’s face remained confused. Belial smiled, sweetly.
"You Norse gods... Haven't a clue, have you? The Four Calling Birds – they are the protectorate of Heaven and eventual bringers of our destruction. As we speak, they are flying to Heaven and will stay there, circling the tree, protecting god and his ilk, until the time is neigh to bring this tree to a halt. Then we shall see their power."
"Birds have no power. They are for cooking!"
"Verynithcetoo," mumbled Azazel between mouthfuls.
"Oh do behave, Az! And no, Balder, these birds are not for cooking. If you saw them, you’d know that."
"Very well, Belial."
"I do so admire the way you angels never argue. Don’t you find Hell to be trying your patience just a little, hmm?"
"Not yet, Lady. In fact, it’s quite refreshing to be out of Purgatory and in with the real sinners. The chaps in Purgatory are such brown-nosers."
"Oh, it doesn’t bear thinking about!"
"No. In any case, it will all be over soon."
"Absolutely, Balder."
"Can I get you anything else, Lady? Some of my bûche de Noël, with rum and praline filling?"
Belial turned, rapt with delight and put a hand on Balder’s arm.
"Oh, would you?"
"Certainly."
Balder turned and left.
Dramatis Personae… Vesper (the protagonist), Evensong (his love), Vesper’s Broken Body (the trials and tribulations of seeking love), William Shakespeare (love as weakness), A Dagger (strength of mind), Belial (Nazi General & arch-demon of Hell), Azazel (Nazi soldier & demon of Hell), Balder (trainee demon of Hell & chef), Four Calling Birds (war, famine, pestilence & death), An Apocalypse (an apocalypse), A Christmas Tree (Hell (love gone wrong)).
Day Four
352nd Branch
Ting!
A dull chord echoed up and down a wooden stairwell. Vesper, panting, stood against the wall and clutched his wounded shoulder. He was covered in burns and blood treacled from his neck. He’d been climbing the stairs for hours. Through each and every doorway was the tree, engulfed in fire. The heat in the stairwell was becoming too much to bear. He sighed, miserably.
"Nine days," he muttered to himself, "nine days before this is all gone."
"Ay, 'tis true," said a voice.
Vesper looked up in surprise, to see a man dressed in fine (albeit singed and bloody) clothes.
"Uhh," said Vesper.
"I beseech you, my lad, be not afeard. I am, for the while, harmless to thee."
"Who are you?"
"I am Will Shakespeare. And who are you?"
"Vesper."
Shakespeare approached Vesper and clapped him on the back. Vesper grimaced in pain.
"Welcome, Vesper! A pity that our meeting is so sick in fortune! You seem a fine fellow to me, an’ if you be not a sprite. I see something in your eyes which I would fain call friend."
"You do?" said Vesper cautiously, remembering Vasuman, "What might that be?"
"Marry, 'tis the spirit of love, you poor sot."
There was something genuine in this man’s eyes, thought Vesper. At any rate, he was stuck here with him – Vesper had to rest. He’d lost a lot of blood.
"I am in love, yes. Her name is Evensong."
"Then we are brothers in this awful thing."
"In what thing? Hell?"
"Hell! Hell is but a fly to a god, when set against the evil lust of the blood we call love."
"But what do you mean? Love isn’t evil. At least, I don’t see love as evil. How can it be?"
"Thou art as fresh to this game as lilies are to souring. My own heart has oft importuned in love, more times than I can recall. It has not been a joyous time."
"That doesn’t make it evil, Will. Perhaps you’ve been unlucky?"
"Nay, 'tis not fortune's auspices that govern love. To be in love is a weakness nonpareil in all the domains I have traversed. My entire life, I wrote sad and merry tales of love and its bitter sweets. I have composed sonnets to its praises and its follies. If I could but see the logic of it, forsooth! What chance hast thou? Mayhap 'tis a failing of mine own, but I should second guess that. See here, where art thou going?"
"To Heaven, to find Evensong."
"Then surely thou art a dog in madness! We dwell in the fourth day of twelve of an apocalypse and you are journeying to Heaven!"
"I have to see her – I haven’t seen her in so long. If I’m going to die, I want to touch her once again. Just once. That’s all I ask."
"Well that's a small price! Look at you, scorched and blood-stricken, you are with sickness so enfeebled, yet you quest to touch a wench before you die! And the culprit in this demented plan? Love! Tell me with open eyes that this is not an evil beyond comparison!"
"I love her. When I see her again, that love will give me a gift far greater than anything else I’ve known here."
Shakespeare shook his head, smiling.
"You speak my own thoughts. In hearing that I'll call you brother and fool."
"But… You think love is evil?"
"Ay, 'tis the greatest of evils, that lets its nature be known, and laughs as still we kneel at Lucifer's painted toes. I, too, am in love."
"Is she in this tree, also?"
"With your own true love, in Heaven, I'd venture. I journey there too. No, I fully see my folly and also believe what you have just heard from my lips. So by my former lecture and advice, shall you know your folly, my lad."
"Your words have touched me, Will. Maybe we’d fare slightly better if we travelled together?"
"No. We make these journeys alone. My own intentions and yours will make us testy rivals and lead us astray. Cupid paints us blind and so we grow selfish towards the end."
"Oh, I’m sure we’d remain friends-"
Shakespeare unsheathed a long dagger and looked down at it. His face grew cold.
"Brother, I'd take a pound of flesh from closest to your heart, if that was the first or last thing between me and my love."
The words hung in the air a brief moment.
"Then I shall leave you."
"Wait, while we still call each other brother, let me hold the handle to your hand. Take this with you!"
Shakespeare proffered the dagger. Vesper looked at it cautiously.
"If some monstrous creature of the Undertree comes between you and your Evensong, lay this bright steel against its throat and tug loose its hold on life."
Shakespeare chuckled. Vesper took the dagger from him.
"Take strength from it. You will need it. Love is a weakening force. And I have been weak for so long."
"Then you keep it - you need it more than I."
"Nay, my lad, I've no use for it. I have chanced upon a long-ranged device."
Shakespeare brought out what looked like a small machine-gun.
"To say the sooth, 'tis stronger than a dagger. Now off with you, sprightly, may love enter your sails and carry you up! God knows when we shall meet again, but our dismal scenes we needs must act alone. Fare thee well, Vesper!"
Vesper left up the stairs.
Day Four
201st Branch
Balder was a very good chef. So good, in fact, that he’d been ‘acquired’ from Purgatory, by Hitler, to serve the troops of Hell. His food was renowned the Tree over, especially when it came to Christmas dinner. As it was, he was now walking through a large mess hall at the top of Hell, carrying a plate of Christmas left-overs through the thronged crowds of demons, familiars and ghouls that surrounded a long dining table. He plopped the plate down between two Nazi soldiers.
"More turkey?" said Balder.
"Oh, delightful!" said Belial.
She took up her fork and stabbed more food onto her plate.
"Come on Az, dig in. Balder makes the best turkey this side of Purgatory, isn’t that right Balder?"
"It is true, Lady Belial." said Balder.
"Az! Take some food, sweet pea."
"No thank-you, ma’am." said Azazel.
"Oh 'at ease', Az, for the love of god, 'at ease'!"
"Sorry, Belial. I’ll just have some stuffing, thanks." said Azazel.
Balder wasn’t very good at making conversation with the other demons yet. Although a powerful ex-angel in his own right, he felt a bit awkward in Hell.
"So, how is the apocalypse today?" he said.
"Oh!" said Belial, in shock and with her mouth full. She carefully chewed and swallowed daintily before continuing, "sorry I didn’t see you behind me still! Well, yes indeed, the apocalypse seems to be going well. The Calling Birds went out today at 1400, I think? Az?"
"Yeff, fourteenhumbrethours," said Azazel, his mouth full of stuffing.
"Calling Birds?" said Balder.
"Oh Balder, you tease!"
Balder’s face remained confused. Belial smiled, sweetly.
"You Norse gods... Haven't a clue, have you? The Four Calling Birds – they are the protectorate of Heaven and eventual bringers of our destruction. As we speak, they are flying to Heaven and will stay there, circling the tree, protecting god and his ilk, until the time is neigh to bring this tree to a halt. Then we shall see their power."
"Birds have no power. They are for cooking!"
"Verynithcetoo," mumbled Azazel between mouthfuls.
"Oh do behave, Az! And no, Balder, these birds are not for cooking. If you saw them, you’d know that."
"Very well, Belial."
"I do so admire the way you angels never argue. Don’t you find Hell to be trying your patience just a little, hmm?"
"Not yet, Lady. In fact, it’s quite refreshing to be out of Purgatory and in with the real sinners. The chaps in Purgatory are such brown-nosers."
"Oh, it doesn’t bear thinking about!"
"No. In any case, it will all be over soon."
"Absolutely, Balder."
"Can I get you anything else, Lady? Some of my bûche de Noël, with rum and praline filling?"
Belial turned, rapt with delight and put a hand on Balder’s arm.
"Oh, would you?"
"Certainly."
Balder turned and left.
posted by Juliet is Bleeding... | 11:56 pm
