Delicately, my mind was selecting a muffled tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding me?

I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a feeling call it, or second-sight; I've heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of credence into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and numbness was there. I didn't' sense any danger in the moment, in the moonlit figure, sitting on the rocks, lurking, looking out into the deep. I did get an awareness of cramps in my stomach though, like centipedes nibbling at it-from all corners-at the pink and red flesh of my internal organs, stinging their poisonous little fangs into them.

I stumbled about in the thick foliage, lost in its prickly overgrown wild plants and mud, and god knows what else; in corollary, I came to the edge near the sea, over looking the aquatic, edge of the cliff, it was many years ago since I had been here. I zigzagged through the last of the bushes, carefully now, it was the rim of the cliff, and then got I into a clearer opening. I could only hear the noises of shifting waters now-the waters below me, as clattering waves hit, and splashed against the overhang-the sea cliffs, directly in front of me. It was but a few seconds after dark, behind twilight, yes indeed, it had disappeared, swallowed up by an agitated night.

Inscrutability always appears to bring with it a limitless amount of threat, does it not? A rhetorical question at best, sure it does, and that figure on the ?the tide was becoming more calm, the rocks were mammoth, and overlooking the sea, jagged and with fangs. The wind gentle over head, not like a few minutes ago, I mean it just unexpectedly evaporated. As I was about to say, the shape, silhouette on the huge rock, is still looking into the sea; it is like he is locked into a trance, or that I am but a worm to him, and too insufficient for him to pay any attention to me. He seems to be talking to himself, or perhaps some sea monster, just kidding-but he's talking to someone, something, and his head is pointed downward, down, down toward the sea. Save for the fact I am not in an illusion.

A fishing boat, no, no just a vessel of some kind, not sure why I said fishing boat, how do I know, it has lit, a light on its deck, I suppose it's a deck, it is far off in the distance. I walked now, aimless I think, can't see much in front of me, lest I end up in the sea on top of that damn monster I can't see, only to find out it is real. Oh well, some shadows just left the moon a bit more exposed, but it gave me a little light. In September it is chilly here, I swear that stature has something to do with this mysterious evening. Here off the coast of ? my bones are chilled.

If you were to ask me: '?what are you doing out here?' I couldn't tell you, I'd not have the answer, 'doing out here,' what? Maybe that figure on the rock knows-he must be but a hundred yards from me now; perchance I'll find out soon enough, and so will you. I mean it is night, but not all that late. Conceivably I was drawn out here. I was visiting a friend, you could say, but only after I arrived. So what provoked me to take this little trip (again)-your guess is as good as mine. I have been to places around the world that seems to draw on a persons soul, agitate his pulse to the point he has to or he goes into-and ends up at, wherever he does-in this case here.

"Aye, good Master," I heard (a mumble) "?take the lot as it is?" this is what echoed back to me, the wind, yes the wind pushed it back into my ears from the spot where that unfamiliar person is, that figure on the huge rock looking, just looking into the?what I assume, the sea, a black hole in the sea, yes indeed, that is what he is doing, looking into a black hole into the sea, for some odd reason, I can see that now, or could, it just faded away, as fast as it came. Evidently, something else was, or I should say, is thriving.

-The form was looked proud with a ting of arrogance. I asked myself, now being but several yards away: 'does he have an inkling of my presence?' Who concentrates so hard, I mean look, he is asking the water of the sea something? Perhaps someone; I get the feeling he has lost something, and wants to bargain for it back-death brings out many wishes in man and beast: and he looks to be both. Or is he planning something; he is huge, awfully massive. I'll take a few more steps, a yard now, he should turn around I'd think. I'm sure he can feel my heart beating, I mean hear it beating, I can hear it myself.

Again and again I say should he turn around towards me he'd see me, then what? Now he heard me mumbling my thoughts, he starting some incantations as well. A pathway to what I asked myself-, now what, I'm right behind him, three feet:

"I'm U?mak, and below me, is the Minister of Doom, and there are many and various, ways to die, he has on a bone-skull plate, carved into it, seventy-two ways to die. He brings one plate at a time to me, shows them to me. I am forced to look as he mocks me. Doom has a funny sense of humor. He will I fear, play with me for ages. He says I must select one, and knows I can't. He gathers my voice and echoes it down to whoever is under the crust of the earth-as they laugh at me. Which way has been chosen me, I know you have second sight?"

I was mortified, he turned around and I almost lost control of my physical functions (he was: gloom incarnate; a demigod, or so he looked), and well, lets not get into it. Anyhow, he knew I knew and he wanted me to tell him what has been chosen for his death bed. So that's why I was brought here, didn't know, and the fingers of doom as well as the City of Death would not tell him, perhaps for a long, long time and this would be his death until he begged hell and Doom itself to tell him; I was his messenger. I stared into the blackness where he had been focused, where he was looking into or at, and I couldn't see what he saw, but what I did see was his death?his death,

"What do you see?" asked the demigod.

"A being with wings, putting rocks over your body. You are in a desert, chained to the earth under you, and the rocks over you, you cannot move."

"What death is this," he asked me.

"The living death," I chokingly said.

"Will I be conscious," he asked.

"Always!..."

Note: Written 8/12/05/revised 8/19/05 (by Dennis L. Siluk)

In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza

U?mak ' s Acu?tica

Con delicadeza, mi mente seleccionaba una melod?a sorda, fuera del espacio muerto oscuro vac?o rode?ndome?

Yo vi una forma sobre una roca, no seguro de qui?n era; yo ten?a un pensamiento sensitivo ll?malo un sentimiento, que siente ello, o la segunda oportunidad; hab?a o?do eso antes, no seguro de si quiero poner mucho cr?dito en ello, pero as? sea, la sensibilidad y el entumecimiento estaban all?. No sent? ning?n peligro en el momento, en la figura iluminada por la luna, sentada sobre las rocas, estando al acecho, buscando en la profundidad. Realmente consegu? una conciencia de calambres en mi est?mago pienso, como ciempi?s que mordisquean en ello - de todas las esquinas - en la carne rosada y roja de mis ?rganos internos, picando sus peque?os colmillos venenosos en ellos.

Tropec? sobre el follaje espeso, perdido en sus plantas espinosas crecidas demasiado salvajes y el fango, y Dios sabe que m?s; en el corolario, vine al borde cerca del mar, mirando sobre la acu?tica, al borde de la roca, hac?a muchos a?os ya, que yo hab?a estado aqu?. Yo zigzagueaba a trav?s del ?ltimo de los arbustos, cuidadosamente ahora, esto era el borde de la roca, y entonces consigo yo en una apertura m?s clara. Yo pod?a solamente o?r los ruidos del cambio de las aguas ahora - las aguas debajo de m?, como el golpe de olas que hace ruido, y salpicando contra las rocas sobresalientes del mar, directamente delante de m?. Pero esto era unos segundos antes de la noche, detr?s del crep?sculo, s? de verdad, esto hab?a desaparecido, tragado por una noche inquieta.

La impenetrabilidad siempre parece traer con ello una cantidad ilimitada de amenaza, ?verdad? Una pregunta ret?rica a lo mejor, seguro esto es, y aquella figura sobre la marea? se tornaba mas calmada, y las rocas eran el mamut, pasando por alta mar, dentado y con colmillos. El viento apacible sobre la cabeza, no como hace unos minutos, pienso esto, justo de improviso se evapor?. Como estuve a punto de decir, la forma, la silueta sobre la enorme roca, todav?a esta examinando el mar; es como si ?l esta bloqueado en un trance, o que yo soy s?lo un gusano para ?l, y demasiado insuficiente para ?l para prestarme cualquier atenci?n. ?l parece estar hablando con el mismo, o quiz?s alg?n monstruo de mar, solo bromeando - pero ?l se dirige a alguien, algo, y su cabeza dirigida hacia abajo, abajo, abajo hacia el mar. Salvo el hecho no estoy en una ilusi?n. Un barco de pesca, no, no solamente un nav?o de alguna clase, no estoy seguro por qu? dije el barco de pesca, como lo conozco, esto ha encendido, una luz sobre su cubierta, supongo esto es una cubierta, est? muy lejos en la distancia. Anduve ahora, sin objeto pienso, no puedo ver mucho delante de m?, no sea que yo termine en el mar encima de aquel monstruo maldito que no puedo ver, s?lo averiguar si es verdadero. Ah bien, justo algunas sombras dejaron la luna un poco m?s expuesta, pero esto me dio un poco de luz. En septiembre es fr?o aqu?, juro que la estatura tiene algo que ver con esta tarde misteriosa. Aqu? fuera de la costa? mis huesos est?n enfriados. Si usted me preguntara: ?Que esta haciendo Usted aqu?? Yo no pod?a decirle, yo no tendr?a la respuesta, haciendo afuera ?qu?? Tal vez aquella figura sobre la roca sabe - ?l debe estar s?lo a cien yardas de m? ahora; esta posibilidad lo averiguar? muy pronto, y usted tambi?n. Pienso que ya es de noche, pero que no todo tan tarde. Evidentemente fui dibujado aqu? fuera. Yo visitaba a un amigo, usted podr?a decir, pero s?lo despu?s de que llegu?. Entonces que fue lo que me provoc? tomar este peque?o viaje (otra vez) - su conjetura es tan buena como la m?a. He estado en sitios en el mundo entero que parecen utilizar el alma de personas, agitar su pulso hasta el punto en que ?l tiene o ?l entra - y termina en, en cualquier parte donde lo haga - en este caso aqu?. " Siempre, buen Maestro", o? ( un murmullo) "?Toma la parte de como es esto ?" esto es lo que reson? a mis espaldas, el viento, s? el viento lo empuj? atr?s en mis o?dos del punto donde aquella persona desconocida esta, aquella figura sobre el enorme roca mirando, solamente examinando dentro del - lo que yo asumo, el mar, un agujero negro en el mar, s? de verdad, es lo que ?l hace, examinando un agujero negro en el mar, por alguna raz?n extra?a, puedo ver que ahora, o pod?a, esto justo se desvaneci?, tan r?pido como vino. Evidentemente, era algo m?s, o yo deber?a decir, es prospero. - la forma estuvo mirando orgullosa con un tintineo de arrogancia. Me pregunt?, ahora estando a varias yardas de distancia lejos: "?Tiene ?l una indicaci?n de mi presencia?" ?"Qui?n se concentra tan fuerte?, pienso mirando, ?l esta preguntando al agua del mar algo Quiz?s alguien; consigo el sentimiento que ?l ha perdido algo, y quiere negociar para que ello regrese- la muerte entrega muchos deseos en el hombre y la bestia: y ?l mira para ambos seres. O ?l esta planeando algo; ?l es enorme, terriblemente masivo. Dar? unos pasos m?s, una yarda ahora, ?l deber?a girar, yo podr?a pensar. Estoy seguro que ?l puede sentir el latido de mi coraz?n, pienso oyendo el latido, puedo o?rlo yo mismo. - - ?Una y otra vez digo que deber?a ?l girar hacia m? me ver?a, entonces qu?? Ahora ?l me oy? mascullando mis pensamientos, comenzando algunos conjuros tambi?n. Un sendero que yo, me pregunt?-, ?ahora que?, estoy a la derecha detr?s de ?l, tres pies: - "Soy U?mak, y debajo de m?, esta el Ministro de Destino, y hay muchos y varios, modos de morir, ?l tiene sobre una placa de hueso de cr?neo, tallado en ello, setenta y dos modos de morir. ?l me trae una placa a la vez, me los muestra. Me fuerzan a mirar mientras ?l se burla de m?. El destino tiene un sentido gracioso de humor. El me har? temerlo, el jug? conmigo desde hace siglos. ?l dice que debo seleccionar uno, y s? que no puedo. ?l une mi voz y lo repite abajo a quienquiera que esta debajo de la corteza de la tierra, como ellos se r?en de m?. ?Qu? camino ha sido escogido para m?, s? que usted tiene la segunda oportunidad? - "Estuve mortificado, ?l gir? y casi perd? el control de mis funciones f?sicas (?l fue la penumbra encarnada; un semidi?s, o as? el se ve?a) y bien, no entremos en detalles. De todos modos, ?l sab?a que yo, sab?a y ?l quiso que yo le dijera lo que hab?amos escogido para su lecho de muerte. Esto es entonces por lo que fui tra?do hasta aqu?, no conoc?a, y los dedos de destino as? como la Ciudad de la muerte no le dir?an, quiz?s por un largo, muy largo tiempo y esto ser?a su muerte hasta que ?l pidiera al infierno y al Destino mismos para decirle; yo fui su mensajero. ?Mir? fijamente en la oscuridad d?nde ?l hab?a estado concentrado, o donde ?l examinaba, y yo no pod?a ver lo que ?l vio, pero lo que yo realmente vi era su muerte ?su muerte, - "?Que ve usted? " pregunt? el semidi?s. - "Un ser con alas, poniendo rocas sobre tu cuerpo. Usted est? en un desierto, encadenado a la tierra bajo usted, y las rocas sobre usted, usted no puede moverse". - "?Que muerte es esta?", ?l me pregunt?. - "El infierno, " ahog?ndome dije. - "?Voy a yo estar consciente?", pregunt? ?l. - "?Siempre! ... "

See Mr. Dennis Siluk's books and travels at his website: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com