In the plains and frozen frontiers of Moiromma, by the mountains of the far and grayer side of the planet, along the frozen waterways of northern Moiromma, under the weary eyes of Siren, grieving eyes of siren, grieving for the loss of her friends she left in the depths of the underworld of earth, in the Gulf Stream of Hades on a vessel, where she was drifting for months with her comrades and drowned herself trying to escape its forbidden waters; thus, she was grieving for the loss of her mother Jokaneen in addition, who was captured and brought to the vaults of Hell, and incarcerated until she lost her existence. Now she was born of her mother, young yet, but full grown, and on the land called Moiromma, a planet of mostly glaciers, and permafrost, and ice, underground tunnels, and to the south, cells of Moirommalit’s. But this far north, where she was, it was mostly uninhabitable. It is where she showed up suddenly. She was now standing on this frozen arctic planet, in silence, this ice planet in the galaxy her mother was morn into. She now was born into, now with no weapons, no resources, starving: she had imprints of all her mothers’ memories, her DNA, and plus some. She was a commander for a day, in the underworld, fighting the henchman, she felt great, the henchman called Agaliarept: who was more prudent than what she thought he’d be. She figuredduring those months in the gulf waters, they’d all starve to death, and why provoke anymore problems on the docks of hell, when the sea would take care of them. Thus, he gave in to her wish, only to get rid of her, and her twenty, doomed warrior souls; and wherever they went, he could care less. But he never figured on resurrection on her part.
Regrettably, there was a new fate to face, she stood there naked in the arctic winds, looking for friend or foe, for anyone would do. The gray pale dawn was all she had for light; she heard her mother’s voice, like she had heard it many times before; she heard it in her minds-eye.
‘The old man, see the old man, Kenaj.’ The voice stopped, and she tried to search her memory banks to find out who he was, she did have all her data, all her memory: her mother’s memory. But it was hard to retrieve in this frozen north side of Moiromma.
‘Seek out Kenaj, by the great barrier sea, beyond the canyon,’ said the inner voice of her mother to her mind. She was in the canyon she noticed: beyond it, the word ‘beyond,’ seeped into her mind.
“Yes, yes,” she said out loud, as if her mother could hear.
As she swiftly went through the short valley, she found herself on a cliff, not a steep one, but one where there was a lake of sorts, frozen, with little lakes on top of the lakes, as if it thawed out in the afternoon and froze during the nights. Then she looked about, and a glacial mound was next to her, which evidently must have made the lake she presumed. And she stood there naked, as an old man down by the lake was trying to catch fish, looked up, up at herstunned, but not overwhelmed. And when he took his second look at her, there was a trace of gaiety on his old mind, on his old wrinkled face, but still a bit handsome. He even looked like he had a bit of piety in his eyes.
“Well,” he said, and before he could say another word,
“Are you Kenaj?” asked Siren.
“Do you know Kenaj?” he asked.
“I know his name, my mother whispered it to me in my mind, and she was killed in the vaults of Hell, killed for good.”
The old man stood in shock; he knew now who she was, who her mother was,
“You mean Jokaneen? You look a little like her, I mean reassembly so.”
“Yes, yes, of course, my mother knew you that is why she asked me to seek you out.”
He hesitated, seemed to dispute with himself, and looked about.
“Come, take this fur,” he gave her his top fur coat; he had another one on underneath that one.
“Yes I knew her well, I liked her, did her wrong; I wanted to have longer life, and couldn’t wait. That was 150-years ago. I’mI thinksomewhere around 225-years old now. An old man according to earth time, but here not so old; but you see I am from earth, I am the old Archbishop of Brugge. When I came to Moiromma, about 100-years agoand that’s a long storyI came from Asteroid-Ice Cap where your mother left me, well, I found my way here. And I suppose I can help her daughter out. I did really like her, and I like you.”
Siren was much taller than he, and had more body muscle than the old man, but he were likeable, and seemed sincere. But why live way out here, when there was more civilization southward, this was a dying question that she was hoping to ask, and get answered.
“Come into my home, my stone home, with a six-foot ice ceiling, with wooden chairs. I have the only wood I think on Moiromma left. The floors were stone and wood, with furs on them, much better than what he had selected from her memory banks from which her mother had had to live with. But humans were creative if anything, and so she knew that again by way of the selective memory banks of her mentor mother.
The Ice House
The cave like home had several rooms to it, and as I had mentioned, a six foot thick ice window for a ceiling. It was bluish ice that faded into light see-through ice, older than Kenaj; perhaps 500 to 1000-years old, was the blue parts.
“I had a dream of your mother, not long ago, a good dream; I guess I’ve dreamt of her a lot. I wish we could have remained friends. Her ghostly residue is in you, and it seems to be haunting me.”
He noticed she looked much like a soldier, an Amazon type soldier of the old Greek days, when Troy was dominate on the planet called earth.
“You are so very young and beautiful, and I hope you possibly know the word: beautiful?”
She smiled, and the femininity came out of her,”Yes, it is a good word, thank you.” She responded.
The Ice House: Kenaj
Once inside the domicile, he quickly looked side to side, in a low voice said, “Tell nobody I’m here…ever!”
“I’ll do as you ask,” said Siren,” sitting down on a wooden chair. It was to her unique, the wooden chair she had not seen one before, “This must be a rare thing to have a wooden chair on this planet?”
“Yes indeed,” responded Kenaj, adding, “At night there are creatures here and they rumble along noisily over the rough like cobble like paths going onto the glacier: the one right to us, they are giants, ten foot ice rats, and the others are ten to twenty foot ice worms. And they can be very dangerous.”
As she sat looking about, while Kenaj paced the floor. He lit a candle; fire was also an exclusive commodity, as was wood on Moiromma. He hesitated for a moment; he heard the rumbling of a worm above him, and the knocking of the giant paws of the rats.
“That must be the creatures you’ve just mentioned,” stated Siren.
“Worms and rats, Yes, we are really on the safer side of the planet. On the southern side, the Moiromma cells, the gypsy type cells are more dangerous than the creatures. Over on that side they all want to kill you for no reason, here they want to eat you because they’re hungry like you. Thus, you have a better chance of survival here: if you can outsmart them.
The youthful Siren examined him attentively. She had a lump n her throat, not sure what to do, or what her next move was. But as she looked up, she saw a shadow, dark shadow moving over the ice ceiling. It was the worm, a big worm. But the ice was thick, and Kenaj didn’t seem to be alarmed over it, hence, she remained calm.
“The ice is six-feet thick,” said Kenaj, with a friendly smile, “if that worm sticks around, we’ll have dinner, its 300-pounds of blubber with thin pieces of meat throughout its system.”
To Kenaj, the young woman seemed striking; very lovely. He took off his coat and robs, she had the fur coat on, politely, and she did as he did. Monkey see monkey do, I suppose you could say.
“Should I give you this?” she asked, holding her coat out for him to take. He took it, shut the door, locked it with a second door, and put an iron bar across it. He had already put her coat up against the wall on a hanger.
“You must be hungry?” he asked Siren, pulling out a fish from an ice pool in an open room not far from his room. It had legs on it, and he pulled them off, telling her, they’d scratch her as she’d try to eat it, and they were not worth the trouble. They both ate a fish alive.
Siren studied the man quite seriously now, she looked at him again, and again, he was now a bit strange to her. He went to the bed in the main room [likened to a studio apartment], and lay down. She found herself aroused; she followed him, and lay beside him. Then something happened she had no name for, and it wasn’t sleep. She seemed neither surprised nor curious, but rather, overtaken by the emotions she was going through as he laid on her. Then she found him moving off her, and falling to sleep, and wanting to wake him up for a replay, but didn’t. It was all innovative for her.
The Old Man
The old man had tried to go out in the early morning, still a bit ash dark, to find that worm that was casting its shadow over his domicile, thinking it would be resting thereabouts, and catch it off guard; in doing so, Siren when she woke up, seeing the door open a ting, not seeing the old man, she put on her fur coat, and did as the old man had done, went outside to check the surroundings. ‘Ugh,’ she screeched out, seeing the old man’s torso lying on the ice. His other body parts were nowhere to be found. She picked up what was left of him and brought his remains into the igloo type house. She had remembered her mother telling her: Moirommalit’s were cannibalistic, and flesh was good to eat, but for some reason she could not eat him, she had made love to him, her mother had informed her in a dream, this is what took place, and it seemed wrong. She was learning she was a combination of a few different types of beings, and earth had implanted some of their morals, or values or whatever they may be inside her. As well as Moiromma and Hell itself had taught her much, and Asteroid Ice-cap was in her general genetic make up: where to her knowledge, her mother was from originally: she having the blood of both Moiromma and the Asteroid colony.
Now she was in a strange would indeed, one she did not know much about: oh yes, her mother whispered much into her ear, and imprinted much into her system, her genetics, but experience was lacking.
Notes by Rosa: Episode #28: note: the original 26-episodes were written in April, 2004, in Lima, Peru, or in route to Lima, via, by air: and one in Equator, of the 26. The 27th was written in December of 2004, in St. Paul, Minnesota, USA. All revised between July and September of 2005. Four episodes were then written July of 2005, called “Project: Space Tomb,” which was indirectly retaliated to the Moiromma series in the sense of its presence in outer space, but like Episode 27, it was not meant to be part of the series, and was made part in the sense the author needed to use it for the story. But episode #28, was created as an extension to the 26-episodes, specifically for those who have especially liked the series, which the author has noticed several internet sites picking up on them, and sharing them with the public. So it would seem this is being written by demand.
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