buvium

[buvium]

The Frost between us

Were feelings and emotions a language?

Were they part of a complex flow of information that made events, memories, and wishes associated with ideas of a measurable quality or quantity interpretable for other creatures.

Could these feelings and what they 'said' about sensually perceptible or spiritual content send something through time and space that went far beyond our small part of existence?

I wondered that, was weak and trembling.

I exhale a cloud of steam, I almost vomited.

Tears.

I saw something

what was mostly hidden.

My life …

Cold sweat.

Then she came back, had washed her hair in the lake and was only covered with a thin layer of fabric, which gave my imagination a stimulus.

I thought I was strong and honest. I did love her, but I didn't feel it.

It was just chemistry, researchable, empty.

A ghost touched me and poisoned me.

The words.

'THAT is how it is with you weak people', had struck me like an arrow made of ice through my chest, broken in it, its splinters contaminated my blood.

Oh, what a curse!

'What is love?'

Your question was threatening. I saw a switch in her,

which switched on reactions in me whose functions were intended for analysis.

'Nothing, I just had a dream. It's all good, my love, 'lied as Frost began to freeze my heart.

What did I become, what had I become?

An insatiable nothing burned in my chest.

I lost the sense of her charm, of her soul

only the sensual remained.

It was on top of the world and the world on a spoon …

'I'm losing you', I sobbed, ran away, didn't look back, didn't say why, didn't know me anymore.

'Dearest! DEAREST! ​​'

Her voice reached me, but the love in it was just a vibration, the meaning of which did not open to me.

Reproduction?

We were still children ourselves, but we were married.

What for?

Indifference.

I had decided to put an end to myself before the ice in my veins completely absorbed me, I still wanted to feel it when my life was drawing to a close, going.

What did I lose then?

I had a knife in my right hand and knelt on the floor, trembling, vomiting, but it was just a wasteland inside me.

'WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME ?! '

I raised the knife, pointed it at me, swallowed, groaned again.

It's time …

Suddenly, a determined grip jerked me around with her hand, took the knife away from me.

My love fought against me, for my life, I didn't want to cause her any harm, not more.

'Why are you holding me up ?!' I gasped, not clear in my thoughts for a long time.

What I felt was a secret.

Illusions.

'Please don't hurt yourself. I don't know what's wrong with you, but if you want to do something …

… so do it with me first! ‘She yelled at me.

I had a syringe in my hand, inserted it into the vein of my left forearm.

I was in a shabby shack and my sweetheart was with me.

I destroyed us.

I pleaded into the distance as I pumped the liquid into me.

I, I, I yes fucking I …

Had we both already traded our feelings for each other for something that had made us obsessed?

'We have to stop doing this, dearest!'

We looked each other in the eye – rocked in the intoxication – we closed them.

Sad.

That was the answer.

'Oh you!'

[buvium]

NO USE FOR A SENSE – A psychedelic Dream in Twilight

It was a dreary autumn day, gray was everywhere. It was cool.

I wandered through a village made of glass.

It was on the way between the dark woods and the hill country fair. Within a few days it was created, indeed grown.

I only looked sporadically to the left, only briefly to the right, it didn't touch me excessively.

Far deeper in my heart was a message that I found in a bottle by the river.

Then I had entered the daydream there, left reality behind me.

I just wanted to forget about them.

This changed the environment and the perspectives from which I looked at people, a room

without the third dimension, an awakening on the other side.

Death was still further in the background.

Black clouds grew around a blazing light that I did not fully understand

The time had not yet come.

Then a woman came towards me in the middle of a thick cloud of fog.

Her look was sad, but also hardened,

as if she lost what she was feeling and had come to terms with it.

'Turn back, don't let the nightmare take root in the bottom of your heart.'

She stared at me blankly, what I was allowing myself and how I thought I knew.

I explained to her what I knew and didn't even have to tell everything that it was enough

it was enough, and her hearing opened up to me.

'So what did you do to set your heart free, what's your secret?'

She had become curious, I wanted to be helpful, to share my experiences.

Was there a secret?

But then I saw my heart right in front of me. It was still gray itself, it was still dark.

I didn't say that.

But I didn't want to lie either. That had become important to me, I was too open.

I couldn't fool it anyway.

When you dream everything is much closer than when you are awake in the conventional reality disappointed by unsatisfactory events, had to wander.

'Hop in! I have an airship, I'll call it if you want. Should I?'

She shook her head and then looked down.

Her boat had sunk, her light went out, her warmth froze, her life blown like a cloud of dust, eaten by the wind.

'I don't know how to help you, I only know the dream and that's it.'

She assured me it was okay, ran off, fluttered away.

What did I see in her that she touched me like that, brightened my day when she was so gray herself, just like me?

The message had trickled away.

'My heart?'

I sat in the airship. It went to the hill country fair.

There were gray clowns, gloomy attractions, a choir singing desperate songs

a merry-go-round that went backwards, a roller coaster that never came back.

But everyone laughed and celebrated here.

A dwarf with raster braids smoked a pipe and drank herbal wine.

I sat down with him. We got along well, we talked, partied for no reason.

We only knew that, didn't we?

[buvium]

Oddguy appeared in existence as a child in some meaningless and nameless world, alone in the dust. When this boy become a youth he became enthusiastic about circuses, fairs, games, fun, parties, gambling, street art etc. He loved illusions and tricks, fireworks and then, yes then ... he discovered his talents. He managed to create a wonderful circus for himself. Now he was the head of his 'psychedelic circus'. Oddguy pooled imagination and experimented with ideas. The result was a genius who couldn't stop thinking of miracles, fun, and joy – his passion. The audience came from many worlds and was enchanted by Oddguy's show. He had fulfilled his childhood dreams. The enthusiasm for everything that was classy and effective fun was inextricably linked with the now grown-up Oddguy. But it so happened that he gathered a group of personalities around him to add a new dimension to play and pleasure.

They became organized and the restless spark of desire for power stepped into their mentality. One night everything changed.

He saw that he was being steered like a doll. In a dream vision, he claimed to saw 'gods who just played with him, like he had fun with all the colorful miracles.

Oddguy realized an organized network of people above his life, playing games in which he was a character, a puppet, a game piece. He literally, 'shocked out' of this vision, his anger was rising, shades of hate darkened his soul.

He decided to take control over him back into his power. His campaign began. He never spoke about. Soon it was no longer harmless jokes, but Oddguy and his secret society kidnapped people and other creatures and let them play against each other.

These were mortal games.

They also had a growing army of tricky assassins, soldiers, and hunters. The 'Players' were born. Led by a questionable fallen 'angel' in war for his lost freedom. No one knew his indention, his vision stayed a secret. His enormous energy made him find a long life, soon he was looking for immortality. He could attack now. His ambition had been transformed into power to go against the authorities behind the horizon. The players became one of the worst archenemies of the world – collective 'Nimmerend' (Neverending).

The day will come, when he will face his masters to cut off the strings.

[buvium]

When they had perfected the Internet, they have created a universe of virtual reality. People stepped into and was absorbed as a person, active in several avatars at the same time, while the soul was allowed to sit back, the abundance of interaction between people, beings and intelligent machines could simply do what it wanted. So far … Only one main supervisor, had interwoven countless algorithms and supervised the most immature generation that had ever walked on earth. Many people were continuously online, living a utopian existence that they could continue to build if they wanted to. Things were perfect. I was happy all the time, and made friends. We traveled through the Cyber Net. They had sold it as the paradise truly achieved, where one respawned when the body died in the machine where it was safely stored, while all the attention in the Cyber Net just kept playing. One simply created artificial vessels, instead of biological bodies. No one cared about the bodies we left behind. As much as the brain was manipulated with chemistry and fine electrical vibrations, it was never real emotions that were felt in this reality simulation. They used drugs, new chemicals, were invented to make you believe you were in heaven, while in reality you had become a slave to this stuff and technology. Being in ecstasy was never enough in the end. Imagine: Artificial dirt is not enough to have a sane soul. 📷 That's when I got out. I built myself a 'spaceship' in the real world, which I had practiced many times in the Cyber Net. It was the purest agony to endure the withdrawal symptoms and real effort, but my will returned with every breath, with every prayer I sang, shouted, whispered, addressed in different languages to the true God. When I flew away from the earth, I was alone in the spaceship, because no one wanted to come with me. They didn't even listen to me when I talked about true life out here, let alone leaving the world through space. A cosmos revealed itself to me, which produced simply inexpressible variety on every level of its eternal existence. I became healthy over the years, processed the many traumas, lived long enough to see much. One day I landed on a planet with a bizarre desert stretching across its surface. I first had to 'fall asleep' and start dreaming. When I awoke among dear living beings, I realized that they came from everywhere in the cosmos and had also left a life behind that has been, like mine, the true waking state. I had been in deep sleep all my life. Feelings became more and more real, and I lived so directly on the threshold of paradise that one day I simply entered it and forgot this weird, crazy life with all its absurd twists. So those words are what I left behind and send them as far and in as many directions I was able to.

[buvium]

Mr. Quim wandered through a complex and winding corridor. His path formed involuntarily, spontaneously.

Everything around was disintegrating, it was noisy, 'voices of the invisible' were flowing into each other.

The whole world was a huge building, now it was as if an army of demolition machines was going over it.

Quim staggered, reality and dream planes became a chaotic mess.

Lightning flashed, this bizarre annihilation had a personality. All the evil was its laughter, its irony, its anger.

Enigmatic—it hid its true face from Quim.

Obfuscated malice, or righteous retribution?

Mr. Quim felt guilty, but he takes courage and looks for an exit, a last way out.

That's when he sees a light.

'Is that a portal?' he gasps, his face full of wrinkles of despair. Now his eyes shone as a mirror of that exit.

He rushed through it.

It was silent, so unspeakably silent.

The surroundings had nothing for the man to perceive through his senses.

Quim was in a state of the highest tension, a world had just perished around him.

He concentrated, he cried, it emptied his mind.

But he was not in despair, because his feelings had been shut down.

What else was he now?

Was this the true death?

He has a lot behind him, but somewhere something is throbbing.

His consciousness was still smoldering away.

[buvium]

Postapocalypse 4 - Burning Paradise

Post-apocalypse 4 - Burning Paradise

  She had flown away as a little bird, recognized him, touched him deeply, had been familiar with him in the past few days.

  He soon decided to climb a tower after choosing an unknown fate, but first he had to meet Larika again and persuade her to leave this dead world with him.

  But what if it was all just an illusion, an out of control desire?

  He had been wandering in corridors under the ruined city for some time.

Predators, monsters, wild waves in his mind had met him, but he kept searching, ever further ... but dreamed of giving up in silence, of ramming his sword into the ground, sitting next to it, just turning to dust?

  His eyes could vaguely see his surroundings. His senses were flexible

the perception trained.

But they showed impulsive moods the further he went down here.

  They distorted reality and caused fear.

Was it really just images of the subconscious?

  There were more questions than answers in this devastated world.

Even when new life sprouts, Harlekim wondered,

the eternally youthful one, how the apocalypse could have come?

Who, what was he himself in these tragic circumstances?

He had been researching the purpose of his derailed life for a long time.

  The world was crying and he heard that.

  Days of uninterrupted wandering underground had made Harlekim weary.

His will had grown weak.

Escape should never be the driving force of a life.

Even if everything had turned its back on this world, there was still something to be done here.

He didn't think he deserved a break, he was afraid not to move again afterwards.

  His mouth was dry, his head was rustling, he was getting hungry.

He was strong to accept hardship, but he was still human.

  The eternally youthful was not picky.

Fruits, mushrooms, the contents of old tins, an animal to hunt.

A campfire and someone to take a meal together, engage in conversation of the eternal winds and colors, coming closer to a gentle and passionate woman with a strong heart and agitated mind,

wild and restless like him - that's what he longed for.

  But he would have just eaten a rat if they hadn't avoided him.

He also knew that raw rats tasted terrible.

  'There must be stairs, steps to the surface. But nothing.'

Where had he got into here?

Did these rails lead into eternal nothing?

  Suddenly, the ground shook.

...

Harlekim stopped and listened.

...

  'Something is happening!'

Then a glaring light blinded him.

It was everywhere.

Then he realized that it was a subway that was charging up there like a mad, raging monster.

  Unstoppable.

  Harlekim had to evade.

He pressed himself against the wall

kept looking into the light of the train.

He felt something, winced.

Then the train suddenly jumped off the rails.

It needed the full width of the narrow tunnel, and its kinetic force made it approach at high speed.

Harlekim's instinct for survival filled his blood with 'electricity'.

  But why didn't he do anything?

  "I have to be here ..."

His thoughts dissolved in the glow of the beam.

  The noise ceased, the trembling stopped.

That's how he felt.

  Suddenly, sat in a forest by the ocean.

He looked into the waves.

The sun rose, life awoke around him.

  This sunlight here was mild and gentle.

  He sat near his nest. His children slowly woke up

his wife snuggled up against him.

  He had returned to the days of his existence as a 'bird' in the woods.

The eternal youth felt an intimate warmth in the heart, and no pain touched him.

Was this his home, paradise lost?

  The song of countless other birds was a morning greeting.

A choir put a lovely layer on the soft light.

Vibrations merged into one 'voice' in the space of all senses.

  A distant noise scratched the door of that moment.

,NO! This door stays locked forever! ‘

  The waves were beautiful. Songs of untouched childhood were all that was there.

This feeling flattered Harlekim, who smiled at the beautiful seawater in the forest of the bird's nests.

But it kept scratching the door.

  The sun expanded.

Flames piled up.

The sun was approaching.

  'Where is my family? My wife, my kids - WHERE THE FUCK ?! ‘

They were gone.

The door to this 'room' slammed open, then closed again.

  "Wherever I go ... Whatever I do ... Let this sun carry me away, BURN! It's too late anyway. It was always too late for everyone because that moment would have come, no matter what one had ever done about it. "

  The ocean was steaming.

The forest became barren.

  There,

before he gave up, someone touched his shoulder. He looked back.

A person made of light.

"Father? I hardly recognize you. "

  The person put his forefinger over his mouth and pointed out a small bird fluttering excitedly near him. He chirped as if he were calling Harlekim, it was an urgent warning,

a call to awakening. All the other birds tried to flee. Some of them caught fire and turned to ashes and dust.

  Harlekim appeared as if from deep water, as if he had drowned but not died.

  He was standing next to the rails again, the derailed subway was unspeakably loud.

  "It is too late!"

There was no visible way to evade.

  Laughter rang out from everywhere.

  The little bird reappeared and fluttered past him. Harlekim looked after him.

    'Larika!'

It was the young woman he had rescued from the slave hunters a few days earlier.

At that time, she had turned into a little bird and flew away.

THERE! She showed him something and immediately disappeared again.

There was a small indentation on the wall. A door led away from here, it opened due to the air pressure that was created. There was a room behind it.

Harlekim sprinted there, jumped just quick enough through, rolled through the open door into the room beyond.

The train howled and roared skid through the subway, smoking and destroyed, the rear section directly in front of it coming to a standstill.

The exit was locked. It smelled like 'hell', smoke came into the room, Harlekim coughed, tears in his eyes.

  The screeching, rumbling,

The wreck sounded like a dying dragon after a hard fight.

  His steely body deforms in the heat.

  Harlekim slammed the door and sank down.

  He sat there.

  Larika the little bird had left him again.

  Time passed.

Complete silence.

Harlekim fell asleep

was torn out again by a disturbing dream.

He heard his heart beating fast, blood pumping into a circuit for an indefinite period of time.

He just didn't age, but violence or a crash like this could kill him.

Something had saved him.

Was such a 'luck' part of his non aging youth?

...

  Something was bubbling softly in this room.

An ancient lamp hung from the ceiling with a flickering light bulb.

Surreal situation ...

Harlequin fell asleep deeply.

[buvium]

Postapocalypse 3 - Shadows of the Ruin City

The time of the winds and the wandering beings had come over the northern land in twilight.

In the dry branches, leaves, in the rubble all around, in the inconspicuous areas, one could hear the life of the "backside" of this reality, which one never saw consciously, it had many answers ready.

Unfortunately, this zone was very thin, hardly existent.

Harlekim, the young wanderer, smelled something familiar in the swell of the air, a pinch of home.

He searched for people of his past, want to find back home, and he wanted to climb the highest towers to reach for that what was beyond this devastated world.

Why was he here?

He didn't know if he had ever been in this area.

Harlekim fixed a point in front of him.

'Was there a face? It called me. Maybe … a memory that will materialize as a new event? ‘

He wandered on.

A bird, like a butterfly, fluttered through the area, as his thoughts and feelings were superimposed with the developing spirit of the world, the game between soul and what it was experiencing took place involuntarily.

Much was hidden in Harlekim's heart.

The youthful-looking man approached a threshold.

He looked down at a wide plain, it spread out. There was a ruined city there. A legacy of bygone days.

And so …

In the semi-dark, the wind formed patterns in the fog.

It was once a metropolis here.

Yes, there must have been a splinter of what had broken in his hands a long time ago, but now it was missing.

The sky was covered with fields of leaden cloud.

Beings sang, danced, were innocent, saw countless lives, regardless of the time, in the colorful expanses outside in the collective of worlds called 'Neverending'. Her gaze spanned many ages.

Their voices were the atmosphere that spoke everywhere and softly moved the heart.

That is where the young wanderer longed.

But he had forgotten the way, had been cast out …

'What happened?'

For long years, he has wandered through a life full of adventurous dramas in the exile of a lost paradise.

The ruined city …

He had to be careful.

Searchers hunted about in the paths, gases, in the ruins.

Cities were like “spare parts stores” for the people in the wastelands.

Sometimes there was violence.

But more than that, the scattered people feared each other, were strangers to each other.

Harlekim moved skillfully between the damaged and broken buildings.

Technologies stood there in silence

they could no longer be understood.

Some things were still standing - including huge buildings.

A bird of prey circled nearby.

In this city, Harlekim saw the lower parts of huge towers, as they could be found in some parts of the world.

They pushed through the clouds.

The adventurer's path led to the stairs of a subway station.

It was damp here.

Roots and growths dug their way through walls.

Mosquitoes buzzed around, there were insects on the ground.

They were afraid of the young - looking man.

The spirit of nature had already planned its resurrection before the great destruction, had been torn into the abyss by the flames, the floods, from where it had been for decades,

rose again with all his might.

Harlekim heard loud voices coming from the metro.

Aggression and suffering.

He suddenly saw two armed people. A sturdy man and a tall woman with a fiery look.

Harlekim recognized her aura, hard and loveless.

They had a prisoner - in chains.

He could see through the mist:

'She is in danger, suffers so much, wants … to be free and is bound like hopelessness itself.'

The lonesome adventurer felt the pain of what was in the heart of the girl.

Tears, suppressed soul blood.

He didn't allow himself any obvious feelings. Not here! Not now!

It was already a war.

He listened from a distance, down here in the dark:

'It's still a few kilometers to the arena. We will break your will, for us, you will strike down everyone who is not up to you. And we know what you can do. Otherwise, you can humbly be used as a pleasure slave.

The people of Ragana will subdue your personality. Do you prefer that ?! No? Then go on! "

The tall armed woman bent over the seated, athletic, slim-looking girl, tormented her with threats and ridicule.

The girl had slumped.

Harlekim immediately placed an arrow on the bow and aimed at the tall woman.

He did not hesitate, was angry, even trembled with anger.

This fury struck the girl.

'That's enough!' He snorted.

Then he shot the arrow down.

It brushed the face of this woman.

'Damn it!' Snapped the young warrior,

ducked behind a fallen concrete pillar that lay at the top of a long flight of stairs down to the subway station, where the two slave hunters were with their prisoners.

The two hunters took cover behind rubble.

'What was that, brother ?!' The Slayer was angry, loud, and grim at the same time.

Your brother was calm.

The turquoise haired young man Harlekim planned his attack.

For the time being, they no longer tormented the young girl.

'That was the last time, you two bastards,' he hissed angrily.

Suddenly, a completely gray bird of prey with red eyes descended on Harlekim. He attacked.

The youth fought with his sword.

Again and again the bird attacked. What the fuck. Leave me alone!'

'Interesting fight. Let's see how the bird kills this guy!' the tall female hunter said.

The struggling boy suspected what was going on here.

Serpent vultures were rare, fierce comrades in arms.

"You have a telepathic connection."

When the vulture was farther away, Harlekim raised an arrow and shot it and again.

He purposely did not shoot it down.

The bird then departed.

The boy reached into his pocket, was well covered, and took out a flute. With it, he played a beautiful, penetrating melody. She was sad, filled the environment.

Harlekim sought the bird in the invisible world.

When he saw its aura, he responded to him with every note, established a connection with him.

He stroked the animal's spirit.

He made an effort.

'Heryl, what about you ?!' the hunter scolded, because his companion only hung on him with a 'thread'.

Harlekim was still playing the flute, eyes closed to physical space,

opened to the spiritual realm, where he began to control Heryl the bird of prey.

'That's … I'll get it! Come on, call the bird back. The boy confused him with this terrible music!' hissed the Slayer.

She ran towards Harlekim with a machete, who was sitting with closed eyes at his place in defense playing the flute.

Tears flowed down his face. The melody, and its power, had overwhelmed even him.

Just as the slayer was about to strike, the bird struck her face and clung to it

Harlekim looked through the eyes of the bird for a moment.

The angry Slayer shrieked, raged, grunted, grabbed the bird, tried to pull it away from her.

She kicked him.

The machete was on the floor.

The slayer's brother struggled in a panic to direct the bird away from his sister, but it didn't work.

Then he sprinted to her and wanted to help.

He had a pistol in his hand, but he didn't want to hurt or kill his bird.

'KILL HIM, DAMN!'

Harlekim quickly went to the prisoner, who was unguarded but weakened by the chains.

'Where is the key?', the youthful looking, wanted to know in a hurry.

'I don't know.'

Their eyes met only briefly in the hustle and bustle. Harlekim saw something familiar in her.

The slave hunter had grabbed the bird with his powerful arms.

His sister immediately grabbed the pistol and shot the bird.

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! NO!

But her face was full of scratches and blood.

Then she turned and aimed at Harlekim.

She shot.

"We don't have time. I'll help you." Said Harlekim to the young woman.

She saw more in him than just a strange savior, but said nothing about it.

The injured Slayer aimed precisely at the girl.

'No, you won't be happy!'

Suddenly, her own brother struck a blow with the machete, and she fell hurt to the ground.

She looked at him blankly.

'Be glad you're still alive, sister. You killed Heryl. ‘Then the hunter just walked away.

At a distance they stopped two young looking people.

Now they broke the silence.

'I am so thankful to you!'

Another shot was fired at the back of the subway station.

The hunters had treated them badly, injured them and humiliated them. The chains blocked her life force.

Much had happened.

'Do we maybe know each other?' His heart danced in his chest, his eyes wide open.

How long had he not heard friendly words, touched someone gently, looked into lovely eyes?

How long has it been?

'Please free me from the chains! Then I'll answer you. ‘

Harlekim's sword smashed the dark metal with its thin but sharp blade.

After a few moments, she smiled with renewed strength and looked playful and teasing into Harlekim's face.

'Larika, my name is. You are … Harlekim. It was a long time ago?' the expression on her face indicated that she was repressing the emotional wounds,

by remembering something that was associated with great joy.

'From where do you know my name? Say, where we once …? ‘

'She looked him seriously in the eye and nodded briefly.

"I'm just like you, 'eternal youthful one'! We know each other, yes, we've … seen a lot."

She stroked across his face.

He kissed her hand but didn't dare to do more. He was shy after all the lonely time.

With her mild expression, she was able to make him happy for a short time.

Suddenly:

'We'll meet again.'

Then she turned into a little bird and fluttered away, disintegrating.

"Wait! PLEASE! ” He called out of his heart but still too softly, already too late, the time had not yet come.

The eternally youthful sat on the floor and was exhausted, confused, and yet tenderly touched.

'Larika!'

[buvium]

[buvium]

They started a series of technological developments, with no end in sight: Technologies create technologies. A semi - artificial intelligence had been developed from a human consciousness at its core and extensive software. This maturing person got a sense of aesthetics, the striving for constant further development and the will to create a more complex and perfect version of itself with new resources and ideas. This was the bridge between a machine without identity and a personality that was composed of the individual characteristics of the people, who worked on the same project and were in constant dialogue and exchange. They did this through a network similar to the Internet. This flow of information interfered with decisions that were inspired by the willpower of all employees. They were part of the semi - artificial personality.  Their technological progress grew unfathomably fast compared to past civilizations. Networking and algorithms calculated an awareness. This attracted life forms from other parts of the cosmos who came from other times, from other realities and wanted to see this work of human progression. They watched this critically, because ... At its core, the spirit of the original founder still lived. He was a human artist who extracted ideas from his fictional stories and passed them on to science. He was now hundreds of years old. This is how he made his stories come true and more. His way of living as a ghost in his personal computer system was an old idea, but he used it in the 'Dream Ocean', a collective of visionaries and dreamers, ideas and conceptions, without technology, to find a way as a living being freely through existence could travel. He did this to be a moral authority to allow or prevent the decisions of the network and its progress. So he studied the spirit of higher minded beings, he searched for light. Of course, he had enemies who didn't want morality as a restriction. But: Then this place and everything to do with it would lose its heart and basically become a machine again that would pursue its learned instincts without identity, although humans work for it.

[buvium]

He hiked on the mountains that marked the border with the eternal twilight of the north. His view of the play of colors in the vastness of Neverending (Nimmernd [GER]) awakened an ancient atmosphere in him. His own way was to the north-west. Just there in the distance lay the vast wasteland. There was an epic landscape everywhere in the ruins of numerous cultures that this world had produced interwoven with one another, an independent nature emerged from it. High towers had grown a long time ago - here too. Elements were with light, creative power, the spirits of human civilizations but also of dark spirits entered a dynamic order, and yet the world up here was chaotic. Through these forces, myths and legends were realized from what was already there. They changed the past themselves and formed higher 'dimensions' from the subconscious of the world's mind, that lay everywhere in the wind, in the earth and in the traces of ancient civilizations. Reality had expanded. There weren't many people left in this world. But a people wandered around looking for the brightest light, the 'High Order' behind the twilight. A chosen prophet of great power and deep faith, was their protector, their shepherd. He got there safely through the tangle of superstitions and seductive powers that evil spirits wanted to obsess over people. The man who led the people knew about this man on the mountain in the distance, whose age was indeterminate, his body was eternally youthful. He had a lot to do. He first had to recognize his goal and continue to awaken his longing for light in order to escape from his melancholy and feelings of guilt.

And still he wandered around. His name was Harlekim, a warrior with a muddled memory with many stories to tell. Sad and gentle, strong and brave.

[buvium]

She sat in a red room in a cocoon, light breaking the wall in dreams. The young woman saw a being with a soul core in its hands.

She looked into the future in this way, through a passage in space and time.

The being floated, and undoubtedly its dream was more intense than the reality of the most minds that existed.

It exploded slowly in every direction of it,

Waves in the dream ocean beat against the cocoon to awaken the woman.

[buvium]

The sun was gradually going down. Dawn came. It lasted for hours in 'Rave' and brought with it a cozy atmosphere that was celebrated in a sophisticated way. Everything was full of pleasant, encouraging sounds that came from here through the shimmer of color from the vastness. A wind full of harmony created the atmosphere in which people met and were allowed to experience the intense feelings of twilight in psychedelic games, lively conversations and interactions with CyberNet, before they penetrated further into the mind. In that city the heart was challenged with a wide range of sensations to feel its way into the deep, mentally experienced myths. There one looked for oneself as a higher being and the collective of all residents of the wonderful city of 'Rave'. The bond had been planned centuries ago, but in the 'pure days' of high culture 'Raves' everything had risen to a high point. The 'Olympus of Mankind' was in operation, it worked. At last! The low voices warning of arrogance were faded out, the rulers had the city's CyberNet under control, there was no way to stray from the community's goal. Almost everyone on CyberNet was always online. It had become a religion to switch back and forth between the virtual universe of the mind and the physical world. Breathtaking sunset, lovely music, sublime technology ... numbered days ...

[buvium]

I don't use often Copic markers in these times. Most of my art is digital. But this drawing is done with markers and I like it.

Really, just a few minutes in CSP helped me to make it a little cleaner, then I loaded it up into the internet.

[buvium]

In the borderland between the realm of gloom and the human world, nature spirits, goblins and filth hung around. Between mountains of junk and ruins from bygone days, these beings had formed a sub-culture of twilight, the realm of which began on the surface of the borderlands and led down to the core of the world. Down there, where daredevil, tired of life, but also malicious beings had sought their home, a spark rose one day. Warriors and seekers rarely ventured there, even if one suspected unfathomable treasures. But now it was about something more important. One day a wanderer came through the shadows into the border country - he had been sent - saw a shining child floating over the ground, which seemed untouchable for the beings there. They just stared at it while the hero stalked his way with the plan to rescue that pure being from this inhospitable environment. But it had not appeared for the people above in the light, but was given a different task. It was a mystery to everyone, but a few out of the dirt reminded this quietly floating child of something that had been forgotten, something that they had lost and now longed for. Whispers. Old legends. Rumors. A rustling in the twilight.

[buvium]

There are fighters among us, they come from the vastness of the multiverse cosmos and have different assignments. They are concerned with safety, personal concerns and rescue operations, as well as exploring other worlds, civilizations and cultures. Their steps are quiet, their movements are gentle. Their hearts are fine and tender, their sensitivity is the tool with which they find their way so far in a foreign country. They are waiting on earth for an event. Nobody really believes it, but everyone knows it in themselves. The turning point is coming.

[buvium]

Postapocalypse 2 - The Shaman's Guitar Storm

It was in the north of the devastated world, in the eternal twilight.

Harlekim, a young-looking wanderer, had finally got up there.

Ghostly things drifted through the twilight. Echoes, stray cheers, laments of days gone by.

Everything that came to his mind took on a wafer-thin shape

only to be forgotten again.

The cycle of memories of this world was in motion, and so its interior interacted with the pale landscape.

He sighed.

The towers of the north jutted out dozens of kilometers. They were a cryptic message of creation that no man had erected.

They impressed Harlekim. Long ago he had made up his mind to climb the highest of them, when the right moment had come.

When the boy approached a rocky area, there was only one mountain pass, so he could get to the other side of the range of hills.

He wandered down a narrow path.

The fog grew thicker, but the path got wider.

Soft voices.

Creaking and splashing.

A small cavity, open at the top and surrounded by steep walls, opened up.

The apparently youthful adventurer with turquoise hair protruding from the hood discovered a settlement of barracks.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

'Strange, I feel the pounding of hearts. ‘‘

He walked slowly on, looked around.

'Everything around lies in this ghostly fog that apparently haunts me. He, too, has a being in him. But nature doesn't like me since a day I can't remember, ‘growled Harlekim.

The settlement was small.

All this had been built from the scrap of the old days.

Everyone in this world could bring either good or ruin with them.

People knew both, but had little reason to be optimistic.

Suspicious looks peeked out from between boards and holes in walls.

"I, … what to fuck? I see myself from the eyes of strangers. Their souls cry out for liveliness

they cry into me! "

He felt something alien.

He was armed, but that was anyone who didn't want to be eaten by all the other 'rats' in this 'evil cage of vastness'.

Suddenly there was a deafening noise, men, and women in combat robes and homemade weapons emerged from the barracks.

A man with an ugly mask had jumped into the center and stood facing Harlekim, in the middle of the way. There was a chain around his neck with the guitar clamped on it.

It sparked, little lightning bolts danced on the strings.

Guitar noises literally swept away the fog that was between Harlekim and the masked men.

Then silence again.

'This is a shaman or a Witcher! At least that's what he looks like.'

Symbols all over his clothes and ritual jewelry, tattoos …

He focused on Harlequin, whose face was peeking out of a hood.

The youthful-looking wanderer heard whispers in his mind, then the image flickered in his mind. His eyes suffered as well. He saw each other out of sight again, from someone else.

This time it was the shaman. He stared at him.

.

'What happens?' Harlekim struggled against it.

He noticed that the shaman wanted to seize his mind, was listening to him.

It was a strange feeling when another person got hold of the thought

as if worms crawled around in his brain, sucking his mind into insanity.

That was something that many people no longer noticed if it happened to them, but despite his emotional pain, Harlekim independent of corrupting forces and mental parasites.

The man in the mask could not

hiding his own thoughts entirely, they had given him away.

Resistance.

The youth tensed, his aura briefly lit up.

There were arrows pointing at Harlekim's head, and perhaps projectiles as well.

Flies danced carefree everywhere here. However, they stayed away from Harlekim and the shaman.

Harlekim's time was sometimes different from the 'ebb and flow' of this world.

Distant noise.

Pictures from yesterday.

The shaman spoke:

'Where are you from, boy?'

Hesitate.

'I don't know. I've been hiking too long to tell when it started'.

Their eyes met.

The guitar howled reluctantly.

'HMM',

the shaman snorted at this.

A piece of metal creaked directly above him. Harlekim winced.

'Say, where are you going, warrior whose days are uncertain? "

"I wander. I forgot my goal. What I was looking for has probably also forgotten me. "

The shaman growled.

'FOOL!'

Sparks danced and danced along the guitar strings, they were full of an unknown power. These were Steel strings …

'Are we done?!' Grumbled the young warrior.

'NO!'

They wrestled in the invisible world. The shaman struck a 'gate' in Harlekim's mind.

That unsettles the boy.

The shaman wanted something specific.

A bolt of lightning jumped off the guitar on Harlekim.

He opened his eyes and quickly drew his sword,

held it against it, ran towards the other exit of this settlement.

He didn't have time to shoot just one arrow.

The shaman uttered a primal scream, whereupon the warriors of the settlement ran away.

The approached the exit of the barracks settlement in the mountain pass.

The shaman stomped on the ground. It was dusty.

Then he hit the guitar.

A thunderstorm broke out, lightning flashed from the guitar. The air whirled around wildly. Excitement spread.

Harlekim held his sword protectively behind him. He hurled lightning back, destroying a support, and one of the upper barracks collapsed.

His strength was a mysterious force.

Arrows whizzed past him, then he screamed.

They hit his shoulder muscle. A sharp pain. Then blood. He ran on, didn't look back.

A mad, huge creature made of electricity rose above the shaman, who was pounding wildly on the strings.

It screeched. The shaman's spirit drove into the monster.

With a supernaturally fast sprint, Harlekim had left the settlement and the pass behind, and headed for ruins.

He touched his shoulder.

'AHH, DAMN!'

When he looked back, his eyes widened, his mouth opened.

Motorcycles whirled up the sand, they drove after it.

The screeching creature urged the drivers on.

They were like a dark legion.

When Harlekim entered the ruins, he saw an idol statue that had two heads, horns and wings.

He stopped suddenly and stumbled back.

Then the spirit of the shaman showed up again.

"It's back in my head!" Harlekim sounded desperate.

'HE is looking for me.'

The youth closed his eyes and ran blindly into the confusing area with the statues in front of it.

The shaman couldn't look through Harlekims eyes.

The noise quickly became quieter.

He felt, crouched on the floor, and concentrated.

He fell, took the strength of his surrounding, and pushed the shaman out of himself.

Then he opened his eyes again.

He checked on his injury.

It had dissolved as if it had never been there.

The adventurer closed his eyes again and looked inside.

'What did he try, to find in me?'

He peeked in hesitantly. It was a personal, forgotten secret.

The boy was frightened, suddenly opened his eyes,

closed them again, his eyes flickering.

Into the vastness, beyond, he was a bird between dimensions.

Then it landed again.

'Tears ran down his cheeks.

'Light? How long have I been here? "

The settlement, the motorcyclists, the being made of energy had disappeared from his perception.

It went completely quiet.

Only the wind whispered in the twilight.

In the distance, a lonely shaman with a guitar, awakened from a strange dream, was wandering to the east.

Harlekim wandered in the opposite direction.

They did not see each other.

Unfathomable twilight land.

[buvium]

The prose series 'Postapocalypse' has allusions to life, tragic angles, thoughtful moments, I create with it an atmosphere that invites to see images in your head that you will love, even if they sometimes shake.

The hero have an inner miraculous dream which never seems to end.

A lot of things change in unexpected directions, become personal and unique, where you wouldn't have suspected it at first and ... you can't control it.

It's an end-time drama with surreal and psychedelic reality.

Beginning with a fight, but the hardest struggle is that of one's own mind.

Join Harlekim, look into your heart!

https://buvium.tumblr.com/post/670243602776080384/postapocalypse-1