And as a motherless fawn, upon a time I went up the side of the mountain; the scent of its spices rolling in my nostrils. It was the spikenade, the myrrh, the camphor and the oranges, yea, the sweet and fragrant plant-things that clingeth to the spirit. They harboured me as unto a worldling’s bosom, whose love was all too beset by a covetous streak, and it did threaten to suffocate me. The scented wind eastward blew.
Behold: at the halfway point did I see a fey pond, as deep as a lover’s eye, as blue as a prince’s paradise-bird; it was enclosed by blackened stones. Of a sudden, from its centrepoint did bubbles arise; to my shock and surprise a ghoul sputtered forth.
The ghoul, who was wretched, said unto me, O traveller, thou who goest up the side of the mountain: lend me your hand! Though thou verily seest a pond of pure water, and inhalest a fragrant air, thou knowest not the secret truth of the world. Hearken unto me: this whole world is aflame, and stinketh of rot and rancour! Deliver me from this fiery, putrid pit; I beg of thee!
And I was taken aback by the ghoul’s complaint, and understood not what he spake. Fearful that I might catch his contagion, I said unto him, Clearly we inhabit different worlds, for mine perceptions deceive me not; before and around me is insooth a paradise. The scent is sweet to mine nose, and the sight is a feast to mine eye. Thou art a ghoul, and I a human. How could I possibly deliver thee?
The ghoul, who was wretched, said unto me, Ah— thou art correct; thou canst deliver me not. I would but plague thine innocent perceptions. Then I pray of thee one thing: peerest not too keenly into the secrets of the world; lest thine perceptions turneth bitter like mine own.
The ghoul sunk back into the depths of the pond, and all was still again. I was resumed to the beauty and the wonder of the spice-laden mountain.
That was long ago, and I am full of days. And though I have since been before many beautiful things, somewhere along my life did the veil begin to slip. I understand now what the ghoul did spake, for my eyes burneth like hot coals, and my nose carrieth the whiff of decaying flesh.
– Orion J. FACEY