the phantom vaper chapter 1 the bad beginning
many moons before the candle of melancholy was lit thus igniting the flame of ignatious, the loyalist, a legendary spirit was prophesied. its gender? neutral. its purpose? unknown. all that was alluded was that which the forefathers could not disclose publicly for fear of the spirit multi-dimensionally invading the minds of the subjects below. the spirit would arrive with the death of the flame which bore the name of the loyalist. a nefarious tune would fill the air. a pungent odor of varying degrees would permeate within the offenders’ nostrils. and when it left, all that would remain in the shadow of the spirit’s absence was a perfectly plumed “O.”
the proletariat lived in fear of the spirit for a multitude of fortnights. there was nothing the capitalists could do to subdue the lesser beings who roamed at their toes like worms in the dirt, so grief became their subduer as well. society fell to ruin and all that remained in the dust were cowering creatures of a newly shrouded darkness. and in the chaos, without hope of salvation or permanent destruction to ease the quivering, suffering fools of their plight, the flame of ignatious, the loyalist, which was alight upon the candle of melancholy for eons, was extinguished.
and so, just as it was prophesied, as the flame succumbed to the hooded god whom comes for all mortal souls in the apocalypse, within the wisps of smoke which filled the air, as the marijuana smoke fills the lungs of the squires of kings, a small spirit emerged from within. as if burst forth by a sudden climax of sorts, the spirit erupted into a phantom and was set on the world hence. gone forth to set the world on fire.
TBC...
ch2.
“Go forth and set the world on fire.”
Master says it every day. Master engraves it on every pamphlet, in the red lettering it sits proudly ensconced within the superficial brochures. Master says it at the end of every speech, and leaves it at that. Master’s phrase is safe because it is a mere phrase, and functions as such. Words, not actions.
Yes, words to provoke actions, but they are simply just words. Liberalism does not have a home in these words. Businessmen use it as a motivator to win at their downtown game; Athletes use it to discuss their daily biddings and life pursuits; Libertarian twitter users cite it to justify the fiery conflict they are the impetus for.
Every individual had their own notion of this. Even the Phantom.
Fire had eluded him for so long. It was what he had always said when asked, “why vape?” Yet, the truth is that he had eluded it so. An experience so gruesome, so unbearable, so traumatic... he could never be in the face of a flame again.
“Never again,” he would whisper as he walked by the benches near the academic building, as he watched the students inhale their cigarettes.
“Never again,” he would verbalize audibly as he stood hundreds of feet away from the bonfire. Too far for them to hear him... Too far for him to see them.
“Never Again,” he would scream at the top of his lungs at the sight of matches in the depths of the forest.
“Never again,” he would hiss silently as his roommate lit her bong, quickly slithering back into the sanctity of his room, its delightfully incombustible confines.
Never again. Or is it so?
TBC...