Nathonius

The Tale of The Northern Sun (a true tale)

It has been far, far too long. My last post was . . . ages ago. Do you forgive me? If you never want to check this weblog again, I fully understand. But for those of you who have a glimmer of forgiveness left in your profusely bleeding hearts, please allow me to explain the reason for this lengthy absence:

Unable to reconcile the earlier question of the mermaid, (see the entry "Do Mermaids Have Butts?" --Jan 6th-- for further info.) I wandered out onto my porch and gazed inquisitively at the sunset. As the sky's blue canvas deepened to black and the stars began to emerge, I noticed a second sun rising in the northern sky. Naturally, I assumed I was lying to myself--or just seeing things. Yet, upon looking again, the northern sun was still there, red and distant, an angry torch mocking my baffled mind. I was utterly bewildered and moderately agitated, so I went back into the house for a glass of yak milk to calm my nerves. When I went into the kitchen my agitation increased, for my Yak was nowhere to be found. I yelled for the milking boy, he did not answer. I bellowed for my yak, she gave no reply. In fact, no one at all gave any reply. I suddenly felt very alone, as if my whole estate had been deserted, as if I had unkowingly stepped into a time portal and been transported to a cold, lifeless future.
Not knowing what to do, I sat on the floor and stared at the ceiling--and that is when I was struck with an overwhelming feeling, an insistent pull from upstairs. Something was directly above me, I was sure of it, and though I've never been much of an intuitive, I followed my heart around the corner and up the spiral staircase that lead to the guest wing. All of the doors on the second level were flung open, and a thin layer of dust blanketed the creaky wooden floor. I was absolutely apalled. This was, after all, the guest wing. My servants knew better than to leave the guest rooms open and exposed to a drafty and inexcusably dusty hallway. Thomas-Lou, the Butler, would have chopped heads had he come across such a spectacle! Once I had managed to overcome my shock, I noticed that one of the doors was indeed closed. It was the door at the very end of the hallway, the door to the lounge. Of course! It was, in fact, the guest lounge that was directly above the kitchen. This was the room I had been drawn towards. Yes, yes . . . it all made sense. I began to calm down a bit. Perhaps Thomas-Lou was sick and the servants were slacking off. No need for alarm, I probably just hadn't been sleeping enough. The milking boy was probably in the guest lounge throwing darts, letting his little sister feed the yak while everybody played cards and gossiped. Yes, I was silly to think that my whole estate had been abandoned. I had been letting my earlier conversation with the mermaid get to me too much.

. . . or . . . had I?

I can't write more now. The experience I've been through the last few days has been . . . well, let us just say I need to take my time to process it. Shall it continue . . . ?