Bogdan

Bogdan sat on top of a small stool inside of his home, a hole built into a mountains side, gazing into the spot where a phallus, possibly magical, had suddenly appeared. The object itself was made of leather, the head composed from wood. It surely could not have been used for what it was suggested for, or perhaps it was a joke of sorts by the designers of the object playing at a game they only understood.

There was no trace where it came from, or more accurately who it had come from  because it had to have been a person who put it there or was it by some other means?  He thought of a line from some epic poetry from his native land of Serbia, a parable that seemed important for some sudden reason but the thought seemed to be put there only to intentionally distract him from his purpose. He had so many questions such as where it came from, who put it there, why did they put it there and why replace his hunting trophy with it?  How had they managed to get into his home? 

Cholera fear had swept the country and Bogdan had taken it upon himself to test some medicine out on himself. An accomplished botanist he was searching for a remedy outside of the normal means.  Strangely enough the object was covered in the necessary ingredients that seemed unobtainable anywhere in the world as far as he had travelled it, this was the cure for the cholera outbreak. He knew that perhaps being locked away for so long had started to drive him mad in a way but there was no denying the cure, the missing phallus nor his madness.

He had stashed away the Agara plant, having reserved this for a special purpose, obtained from the grave of a wicked priest, the plant had grown to enormous potency and had been known to enable remarkable abilities.  He removed the planks of the wood floor with a crude metal device, something that he had tested multiple times, each practice run quicker than the last to see how long it would take him to remove the nail.  He had to get the object back and he could only formulate one possible means to find the culprit, he was only thankful that he didn’t run into that bastard Mungo Park but that was a story for another time.   

Bogdans head began to ring, he had all but prepared the concoction and consumed it in some miraculous fashion, his magical paraphernalia swirling in his vision.

He suddenly felt like he was being torn apart from the inside and now he was cursing the drink, it was nothing so subtle as the other substances he had experimented with.  This one came on strong, but after the initial rush of pain he found himself inside of his room.

He seemed to be peering through a veil, his vision constricted to another plane, was attempting to push him back where he belonged. The amount of energy that was required to hold the flux of material existence and the power of light at bay was indeed powerful.  He thought he had heard some knocking on his door, he thought it to be the plague authorities and laughed at the idea of such a ridiculous notion before sliding into the light. 

Dearest Bogdan,

Today I write to you as a friend to tell you as a warning of what is to transpire as a result of your medical thesis. Several of the colleagues have been speaking in private about your demise.  I send this letter to you as a resignation on the surface but also know I hold  your work in high esteem, praising your findings on Mungo Park and the fauna you experimented with is an extraordinary discovery and worth investment as others may surely attempt to profit from it, I only hope this letter reaches you in time. 

2

      Bogdan awoke to the noise of gunshots firing but these were not the noises of gunshots that he was used to, these gunshots were quicker, they were unlike anything he had ever heard.  

Despite his weapon being no match against the heavy artillery he faced Bogdan went for his own flintlock, something that he had learned to fire quickly, having been accustomed to the true flintlock, the matchlock and the wheellock.   

Suddenly there was the feel of a barrel against his temple accompanied by a hard smack on his head, sending Bogdan into oblivion.

   Bogdan awoke with a splitting headache, he was blindfolded but Bogdan could sense that he was surrounded by men with weapons.  More importantly, he was sensing  the very object in which he was seeking to obtain, feeling it’s primal energy wanting to copulate with the source of its ancient raw energy, desperate to get back to source. The object had not managed to bond with Bogdan for a lengthy period, now it sought out its precious sustenances which even its master would not satisfy.

The tribe, his captor, he sensed, were speaking in sign language, deducing this by the fact that he hadn’t heard them speak, remnants of their gods on their fingers. 

The tribe did in fact speak  in sign language as did their ancestors. However some of the tribes had begun to abandon the way of their predecessors, no longer speaking primarily in sign language, having adopted a combination of sign and guttural noises.   

The phallic like object which the chief of the tribe seemed to wear as a mask had taken on a new tone, it was no longer funny but enigmatic and threatening.

Bogdan would have likely laughed at this so it was likely good for him that he was blindfolded, the tribe possibly finding such a reaction insulting. This led Bogdan to wondering how laughter would be considered in this society, his musings taking him up to the destination of the tribe who seemed disappointed by his indifference.

The ropes from Bogdans bound hands were suddenly cut and he was pushed into an arena.

 3

     Black oak stem is what the maze had for wood however so much more grew from it in profound beauty mingled with the omens of death.  Deadly nightshade, hemlock and cannabis is what the maze was made of.  In the center of the maze, high on a platform made of the same material was the chief of whom wore the phallus made of these same materials, the materials Bogdan needed for the remainder of the cure, the final ingredient concluded with some alien species of fauna. This display was due to what seemed to be an insult from Bogdan himself, the chief felt degraded, perhaps his stature threatened by the man who had stolen his ceremonial garb and returned it so flagrantly.

Bogdan began to make his way through the obstacle which seemed to last an eternity but before long he began to realize that the space he was walking in was becoming more restricted.  Panic began to engulf his imagination. Thoughts of him having to tread this path, sidestepping through the narrow gate as he was suffocated was more than torture so he did the only thing he could think to do in such a situation, he began to eat the very thing that was killing him. Bogdan tore at the walls, fist full of fauna in between bloodied fingers.

     Bogdan awoke suddenly on the floor of his room with the phallus on his face.  Above him stood his colleague who grinned heavily, he who had written the warning letter. Despite the bleak situation he seemed to have managed to keep his flare.  In fact the situation was much more bleak than Bogdan knew, his colleagues had all in fact died from the illness, only the two of them remained.

It was not long before Bogdan had set up a chemistry set, working with mathematical precision and occulted knowledge the skills necessary to bring about a cure for the awful ailment, a cure Bogdan would receive no credit for.