Pages of an Eldrich Memory found off Old Route 66

Eldrich, an adjective that Merriam-Webster's Dictionary defines as, Something Strange and Unnatural especially in the way of Fear. It is a word found more commonly in the passages of Poe or Lovecraft and certainly not one of the more everyday Vocabulary. Let us pray that remains the case. In any case I believe it fits the mood of the following Narrative I discovered adventuring down Old route 66.

There are places in time that attract oddity, stories gather around them, drawn like old skeleton keys to a magnet. Even as these places collect the dust of the tales we ourselves add to them, buried deeply beneath the dirt, blood, and sand of history are legends more Ancient then our Native Ancestor's once knew. Tales only whispered by the local Devils such places are named after. This story was given to this Wizard by one of these older Djinn still living in the Canyon known most appropriately as El Diablo.

Canyon El Diablo waiting just off of Route 66, can be found 23 miles from the town of Winslow, Arizona. The same town once included in a certain ballad by the Eagles. The Serpentine Canyon makes its rest at the foot of the Ghost Town of Two Guns where many a ghostly outlaw still makes camp.Black hats gun ready every Sunrise and Fall. Nearby, hiding at the head of the Canyon is the haunted fort and cavern known as The Apache Death Cave, a place the rightly deserves it’s very own column in this Warlock’s Grimoire. About 7 miles distant we have famous Barringer Crater, where a Meteor hit Earth roughly 50,000 years ago. I mention just a few of these surrounding mysterious in highlight of old adage saying all stories are connected, but where do they begin?

I met the Djinn we will call Kass'mik, as he laid like a snake on the canyon rocks basking himself in the rapidly sinking Sun. The Old Spirit seemed to find a poetic revelation to his own life in the Suns fading rays. Reptilian in nature, Kass'mik had failed to shed more then a few years layers of scaly skin, this amounted to a flakiness akin to Old Mens Wrinkles. His body, arms, and yes legs were especially long as his Reptile nature would hint. With long fingered hands ending in Claws now broken, dulled, or entirely missing, testament that his best days under the sun were not numbered, but over.

His head like a crown remained gleaming with the shine of a young Black Cobra. Skull like in its nature of smoothness and form, aside from what appeared to be ceremonial scarring on each angular cheek. The Djinns eyes shimmered with an inner fire when they finally opened from sunnied rest. Greeting this sorcerer with the gaze of a Medusa that held me transfixed like stone, Paralyzed before secret prayers freed my spirit. Centered now by an experienced faith, I created the proper circling and began listening to the clever spirits stories.

Speaking with a Spirit is an experience that I might shed some light on the nature of. It is as if time slows down as thoughts, feelings, and natures collide. The Islamic Prophet is said to have journeyed to heaven and back in the same time it took for a lamp to fall from table to the floor... Like a dream sipped waking, no Magic Mushrooms required. Meditate, practice it deeply daily and you too will achieve the extraordinary. I believe this, and belief is everything!

Kass'mik recalled a story more interesting then any of the others. In a language hissed as much as spoken, I saw a great Iron Scaled Dragon the length of the Canyon breathing Lightning, it rose with a thundering roar from an ancient slumber.. With each breath in came hurricanes and out came storms. It was a Demon of a primordial Era where Fire and Ice met in a Maelstrom of Creation. This name forgotten Adversary had risen to battle in the heavens against Titans half remembered as Gods when the Pyramids were rising from the Banks of the Nile and the Tower of that was Babylon was just a kings Dream. This Storm Breathing Engine of Destruction and War fought over worlds along side other Monstrous Colossi of Chaos. Against Pandemonius Throng were aligned an army of angels and gods, names forgotten.

The War of Ancients lasted many years, both sides locked in an eternal stalemate of destruction. Between this clash of God's and Demons, the ancestors of both Man and Spirits hid together wherever they could having been driven from their Fantastic Cities that we only remember by legends and Dreams. The desperate Survivors of this apocalyptic time prayed within there dens to who ever might listen God or otherwise.. The singular Prayer being for an end to their suffering.

By Prayer or simply time spinning the wheel of fate, a great warrior rose among the Gods. Chasing the Monsters from the sky with Arrow and Axe, the warrior hunted and sealed each away. Like the others, our Demon Serpent was put in retreat as the balance between gods and monsters was finally broken. Flying back to it’s former bed the beast was struck by Magick Arrow and sent crashing nearby to where it once made rest. As Kass'mik shared, this ancient creature continues to lay where it fell so long ago. Broken and beaten, but still living if such Primordial beings can ever be called alive in the first.

The Great Beast is buried deeper then can be dug, locked down by old Magick’s set in place by the Warrior, knitted into the land itself. Ages ago when Kass'mik was but a youth, the land would shake and quake by what his Mother would say was the grinding of the Ancient Chaos against it’s Chains.

The Dragon has been quiet for so long that even the among the Spirits few hardly remember. Kass'mik knows it is still there, still waiting. He can feel it and anyone who pays attention can. It has a way of pulling things closer to it, the Chaos. Old as time it waits listening for those chains to loosen. With those final words there appeared such a contented smile. Was it the smile of having a burden weight lifted or one of devils mischief, I could not be certain. Kass’mik closed his eyes in time to soak up what little remained of the sunset and was unresponsive to any further probing.

I do not believe the Kass'mik survived that cold nights wind... Things Synchronize that way in the realm of Magick so often that any Practitioner inevitably questions the nature of Fate and Fortune. At the end of the day Kass'mik was able to give us the half forgotten tale, as I have related it to you my readers.