The Hall

I walk into the room where I assumed I would later perform for the Gorgon. It's a large space, more hall than room. The walls are covered with tapestries of unknown age. They give off a faint, musty smell.

The dark oak tables where we would later feast with the serpents are long, old, and well polished. The matching benches are worn and, in places, slightly rounded out, evidence of the countless, covered bums that have sat there. I smile to myself as I think about those ancestral posteriors.

White candles are arranged at equal distances along the table. They are not the new fangled, non-drip types, but rather older ones that build their spilled wax as castles around the ancient, green tinted bottles that served as holders.

I walk out of there feeling awed by the magnificence and character of the room. If this is the place, and I'm not sure that it is, where we are to feast with the serpents, and perform, then I have to quiet the nervous butterflies that are disturbing my gut.

Vi
August 22, 2005