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     | |      c   o   m   m   u   n   i   c   a   t   i   o   n   s     | |
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  ...presents...               The False Prophets
                                                         by Lady Carolin

                      >>> a cDc publication.......1994 <<<
                        -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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 |____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|

     For weeks she gathers the necessities for her spell, the things which she
will use to weave the web of the future around herself.  Blood from the heart
of a freshly killed newborn babe; the liver of a goat; the eyes and ears of a
marsh frog; the wings of a bat; a pinch of lavender; blood culled from the
prophetess herself during her woman-time, under the light of a full moon.  All
these she now binds together with heat and water, on this dark night upon which
all will be revealed.  Stirring, stirring.  The boiling, the bubbling, the
mists which rise above....

     At last it is done and the seeress prepares herself for the ritual to
come.  She purifies herself with baths and lotions, oil, hot red wine.  She
purifies her dwelling with sage, washing the floors (where she will sink to her
knees in trance) with the blood of a cow.  She drinks of the cow's blood, then
of the mixture she has stirred, watched over, blessed on this day.  She lights
a candle - white, milky, the wine of cows, for purity and clarity of vision.

     She prays to Cow and all who worship Her for the vision, the stolen
glimpse of the future yet to come.  She has sensed rumblings, seen threads of
space and time tearing apart slowly here, there.  Grave portents warn for the
future of her people and Her followers.  She must know; She must show.  And
thus it all begins.

     The prophetess screams as the first wave of the vision hits her.  The
impact, the force of it is greater than any she has felt; instead of sinking to
her knees she falls to the floor, prone with the terrifying visions inside her
head.

     She sees a great turbulence and tribulation; the fabric of space and time
rending itself in a bloody apocalypse of treachery and lies...  deceit, evil
blasphemy, and treason filling the land in a gory battle.  Cow fighting against
cow; worshiper against worshiper, forsaking all which had come before.  She
foresees the end of the world as we know it.  It burns bright, hot and painful
in her heart of hearts.  To see it beforehand, to witness the backstabbing, the
wounding of those once called friends, makes the prophetess cry, sobbing so
harshly that rivulets of blood pour from her eyes.  She dreads to see more, but
she peers further beyond the veil.

     She sees mercenaries, missionaries of purported bovine worship; false
evangelists seeking only fame and fortune.  She hears the rumblings of a great
vehicle; a mechanism from the future, barreling down to rape the virginal
present, to alter the past of its ancestors.  She sees the blessing, the
message of Cow being perverted, stolen, rewritten to other ends.  "Ye are not
among us!" she screams, still in the throes of the trance.  "Ye are not one of
us!"

     She watches the world end, due to those who would steal from the future to
serve themselves.  She vows never to query the gods again of the future; never
again to lift the curtain; never again to weave the webs.  And yes, this is to
be her last rendering.  The vision has been too much for her; the body of the
prophetess has been fatally weakened by this her excursion into the future; the
life force of the seer is ebbing away. 

                            *     *     *     *     *

     The king sat with her as she lay dying.  He came to attend her at her
bedside, her deathbed, not only in the holy communion of Cow, but also to hear
the words of truth she would reveal to him, to receive the mysteries she would
share with him, these last few sentences before her breath was gone; before she
rejoined Our Mother Who Is The Earth.  She leaned to him, whispering into the
ears of the king.  "Trust not these false prophets!  The future must be left
alone, to its own ends, to its own beginnings.  Beware the seed of demons!"

     Her last breath had been expended with the warning to her liege.  The
sight went out of her eyes; the life went out of her limbs, her silver soul
fled from her body.  The king sobbed with the sure knowledge of what was to
come. 

     And then all was dark, and evil....
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  .ooM   |Copyright (c) 1994 cDc communications and Lady Carolin.           |
\_______/|All Rights Reserved.                               05/01/1994-#251|

