Atalik's Poem by Chipka
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No AI - This artwork was created entirely by hand or with traditional digital tools.
Description
He followed the Poet for three days, beckoned forth by a finger, by the wind, by a lisp on the wind. Beckoned. For three days, he followed…
He never knew why the Poet had summoned him; it was a dream, and the nature of dreams had always been to end before resolution. And so the dream ended, and he came awake in the cloying damp of bed-sheets and sweat, and the sound of breathing not his own. At times, when dreams still held him, he shuddered at the possibility that some wild succubus had entered the room and crouched—like a child’s nightmare—beneath the bed, or in the quarter-opened closet. But there was no succubus.
Dmitriűš made sleep-noise and Atalik smiled at the sound beside him, and at the memory of what they’d done. It was a nightly occurrence now: a tempest of passions and sweat, naughty provocations and wordless entreaty. It was flesh and blood as nightmarish as life and as ideal as any dream. It was what Atalik wanted, and it came—so shortly after a Hell in the shape of an old woman who knew too much and cared little for it. It was what he wanted, but it took torture to achieve, and he remembered the monstrosities he’d faced: reflections of himself in the distorting mirror of his own animal needs.
But now, things were different and loud with nocturnal, amatory racket accompanied by the thump-thump-thump of the old lady downstairs, tapping her ceiling with the handle of her broom. The noise, as Atalik understood it, was her desire for a calm night’s sleep without the racket of Sodom interrupting her nights. He understood, and blushed whenever he saw her. He smiled, now, as Dmitriűš shifted. He felt the brush of Dmitriűš’ toes against his shin; a glancing, clumsy caress born from sleep at odd angles.
He smiled, and wondered at the Poet calling him for three nights now. He shifted from bed, catching his weight on naked feet as night air chilled the sweat on his flesh. He padded to his desk. There was moonlight. There was blank paper. A pen. He sat. He tried to write, but all that came were random words with little connection to the old Poet beckoning him forward.
He returned to bed, and fell asleep with the scent of Dmitriűš’ sweat-tinged hair in his nostrils.
***
Atalik is one of those characters who will probably have a lot more to say and to show in the upcoming months/years. He’s one of those characters evoked whenever I hear a particular piece of music, or see something that reminds me of Agara. I have to admit, a country that is also a clock is quite an interesting place, and the people who live there must be intriguing as well. Atalik, a poet and a mad fictionist is most-likely the perfect lens through which to see Agara, or at least its capital city of Pekkur, and so I suspect that Atalik will be with me for as long as Agara graces the past/present/future pages of this gallery. When I finished the story, “Atalik” I had no idea that he and Dmitriűš would be successful in their rather shaky amatory venture. It seems (days? months? years?) later that they are. At least for now.
The actual photographic element in this piece is a tiny bit of the roofline as it appears from in front of my friend, Svetlana’s apartment. She lives above a courtyard, and so her views are always interesting, and at times, claustrophobic. On nights when the moon transits above roof-shadows, things look moody, brooding, and occasionally spooky. I miss that element of life in Prague—that casual spookiness, and that I suspect, is the main inspiration for the creation of a country like Agara, and its citizens like Atalik and Dmitriűš.
As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and hopefully you're having a great weekend full of all sorts of fun things.
Comments (21)
Poets and Prague-spooky views and a pair of lovers---everything necessary for a wonderful story!! I can read this kind of stuff forever!!
I love the story, and your art piece is gorgeous. It's moody and just the tiniest bit alien, as befits a tale of Agara. Beautiful mixture of elements, creating a stunning result. I always love your 2-D work. More, please?
real cool stuff
Oh my yes...Chip, I think this must be your alter-ego, and I so envy the rich visions you have percolating in your head!
A very mysterious tale. And it is terrific how you can move the narrative so quickly without sacrificing detail or atmosphere. And I am very intrigued by the secrets of Agara which seem to weave though all of its members and material assets. So that's always an effective hook which never disappoints. What's really eerie is the striking resemblance the imagery has to an experience called the 'dark visions'. An uncontrolled moment of direct mental contact with alien (well, maybe alien) thoughts that are of far greater potency than those of a human receiver. Thoughts not necessarily malevolent, though some are and the experience can be crushing when that occurs.
Great to read this next instalment, most enjoyable! The image is incredibly elegant!
I can only agree with Tara. It was a mysterous but great story and I so like the image too. Amazing what your fantasy can create.
SUPERBE !
superb story and image!
beau recit!!
superb story and fantastic image....Bravissimo..!!!
He has found sweat and passion, noises to make their neighbors wonder (he wanted that, but now he blushes), but not the fantasies and nightmares for his pen. And the Poet beckons, but to where does he beckon? Dreamlike episode of Atalik's journey. I look forward to more and to seeing if it is a life changing event for the two of them (for good or ill) or a momentary diversion. Wonderful mood and descriptions. Beautiful image. Lovely branchlike pattern, elegant design and beautifully simple and powerful photographic image. The language and the symbol, have the look of ancient and mysterious knowledge, which fits hauntingly with your story.
I love the style of your writing and I love that this writing is accompanied by an image. Your writing consists of tiny glimpses that just leave me wating more and thinking of what that more might be. It is wonderful! Thank you!
intimations of callings beyond the tale, mixing of dream and 'reality', yet rooted in beautiful physical contact & senses & smells. Atalik inhabits both worlds, in your words, as easily as one would breathe. And the interference from the woman below is another wonderful element thrown into the mix. In many of your tales, there is a mix of several worlds, some concrete flesh, some in the dream realm, which mix so naturally we don't even want to ask which is which, but accept that they all belong together. And the Poet-calling is tinged in a sense of both destiny and also call "back" to some place inside himself. And then, your visual is so intriguing. I haven't followed all your writing from the beginning, unfortunately, but this red "character" (or letter) seems like a design with great meaning. And there's something middle eastern or Indian about it, exotic, sweet to the scent, and mysterious. And your open window with the crescent moon is dripping with a feeling of moment, symbol and hidden meaning. Simple but very eloquent, and the writing in the image---which I tried to read and can only partially (how it should be, I think)---makes it all seem a mysterious message. A mysterious enticing "snapshot"---word & image---which, like all your vignettes, intimates worlds beyond and still takes us to here & now. Very sensual too, another masterful vision from you. (And thank you so much for pouring so much fine feeling into my gallery. I agree with you about museums, they are giddy wonderful places w/ wild & wonderful juxtaposition---as bill eloquently pointed out too. It's so nice that they're hearing the heartbeat of the world now. Thanks for your wonderful insights!)
this is really outstanding, Chip! a masterpiece, and, according to my modest opinion, one of your best postings, although they are so often good that it's difficult to choose... This os a perfect blebd of calligraphy (in its literal meaning of beautiful sign)and image.
Outstanding work my friend.
Yes, their is a hint of mystery in your art and prose, and always so sensual. CC
Your writing is always compelling, but in this case there's a nicely appropriate poetic style to your prose that really appeals to me. I found myself reading this several times. I especially like the fact that you are explicitly sensual, without ever crossing the line into being explicitly sexual. The result is something highly tasteful, and yet charged with eroticism. Your montage is starkly beautiful too. At first glance, I saw a very nicely cropped image of an Egyptian pyramid, captured with the moon. The truth though is actually no less romantic! This complete package is my favourite of your work so far. Truly superb!
I really like the style of your writing and I do like this image a lot, it's such a fascinating combinating balanced and mysterious at the same time
This is a very beautiful and very nice!
gorgeous work and your writing is fabulous as always ..I wish I could write like you do but I have zero talent in that area