The Tablets

Excerpt: #5 File Under: #Autobiography

My face was glowing.

Unbeknownst to me, as I descended with the Literature, the glory of what I had just experienced was literally written all over my white face. The earthquakes and thunders had stopped, though the thick smoke and black clouds were still restricting my breathing. I carefully made the descent.

There had never been such a comprehensive set of mandates. My heart was ballooning, the exhilaration made me tremble. I was amazed that I hadn’t feinted, or died. I nearly tripped on a cliff edge as I tried to clumsily ambulate with both hands full. The stones were heavy and lacked grip. Smooth and polished, exactly as The Words they contained. The crowds were waiting for me. As I progressed further and further downwards, thoughts racing, that’s when I first heard rumblings of the party below. Tambourines. Dancing. Celebration. But they were so fearful a little over a month ago… Was it a “Moscanovski Welcome Home” party or something? I wasn’t even gone that long…

I finally reached the bottom. That’s when I saw it. Oh no.

The stones smashed hard and heavy against the desert floor, crushing The Words along with them. Shame on the people. Is there no respect? Are The Words not worth waiting for?

Moscanovski

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***Americano?***