Date:         Thu, 10 Feb 1994 01:38:12 EST
Subject:      Another from neil
 
Passing this one from the Internet netherworld from Neil. Hope y'all like
it....
 
        This is the beginnig of the biggie. I'm going to resurrect
LeCroix.
        Post the next two or three messages to all, and enjoy
 
          Here we go folks. Something I've been playing with  for
     a while.
 
 
                       The Book Of Revelations
 
          On  a  bright and starry night, five beings  who  might
     have been enforcers but weren't, walked down a dark  hallway
     in  an old abandoned monastery somewhere is New York  state.
     They  were  all empty-handed save one  who  carried  (almost
     tenderly)  a  pill bottle of what looked like ashes  in  his
     right  hand.  They  moved slowly, out of  a  combination  of
     reverence and fear for the being they were to meet. Stopping
     before  a high oak door they knocked, more out of  obedience
     then necessity, and waited for a reply.
          The door swung open. A light, almost musical  voice
     sounded in their heads.
          "You have his ashes?"
          "As  many as we could find Mother" this was the one  in
     the  center of the group. "The fire destroyed most  of  what
     was  usable, and it took the better parts of our talents  to
     gather even enough to fill this container."
          "Never  the less, it will have to do. It will  do!  Now
     go! You have served me well, and I will not forget."
          The dark cadre moved as one to the door and bolted down
     the  hall. When they had gone, the owner of the "voice"  had
     emerged from behind a tapestry. She was (or appeared to  be)
     no  more  then a child of ten. She was radiant  in  a  white
     dress  like something out of a painting by Manet. Moving  to
     the  center  of the room she seemed to  glide,  rather  then
     walk.  Her eyes were bright, and seemed to twinkle with  the
     punch  line of some infinite joke. She picked the  vial  off
     the floor and popped the cap with an easy gesture,  reminded
     of  some  line about a childproof top.  Then  she  carefully
     knelt  on the floor, spread her dress about her, and  gently
     poured  the ashes into a hollow she'd made in her  lap.  She
     reached behind her head, and removed an ornate gold hairpin.
     Smiling,  she extended her hand over the pile of ashes,  and
     pierced  her thumb. Anyone expecting blood would  have  been
     disappointed (or maybe shocked into silence) for out of  her
     finger  poured  a light of the purest white.  A  light  that
     behaved like nothing in the realm of science. It flowed like
     lava,  spilling  into the pile of ashes in her lap.  A  pile
     that  now seemed to glow with a life of its own. It was  not
     as  small  as it was moments before. It seemed to  grow  and
     strive  to take form. First, a skull, a deaths head  resting
     incongruously  in the white folds of the girl-beings  dress.
     Then  the  rest of a skeleton spread across the  floor.  The
     neck, the chest, the arms, and all that followed. There  was
     more.  The  nerves,  like  finely  stranded  thread  running
     through sinew, providing the glue that held the form
     together. Then the organs. The heart with its slow,
     centuries-old beat, now stilled. The eyes, white balls
     starring out of lid less  sockets and a tongue, that seemed
     almost to lick non existent lips, as if in anticipation.
 
        End of message one.
 
 
                        Neil