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ee. Returning to Shulon.


I am Trainman.

Journal: Three hundred years are six Jubilees.


I am still trying to identify just who the Watchers are. I can only refer to descriptions I’ve read from other sources in the modern era. Documents where validation of facts can be questionable.


“The duties assigned to the angels in connection with mankind are numerous. They brought Adam into the Garden of Eden and afterwards Eve (iii. 9, 12), and instructed Adam in tillage in the Garden (iii. 15). They report to God all the sin committed on the earth (iv. 6). The order called "Watchers" descended in the days of Jared to instruct the children of men (iv. 15), and afterwards sinned with the daughters of men (iv. 22). The angels showed to Enoch all that was " on earth and in the heavens " during 294 years (iv. 21), and conducted him into the Garden of Eden (iv. 23). They bound the fallen Watchers in the depths of the earth (v. 6) ; took to Noah the animals that were to enter the ark (v. 23).”[1]


By, The Trainman.



Enoch’s Return to Shulon.


                My provisions are low. The spears, gone. I only have the hatchet. No water. No herbs or grain. I have some berries and some leather string. That’s it.

                Somewhere, I received a cut on my arm. Quite painful. I don’t know where it happened. Or when. But I was instructed by Edni before I left Cainan on how to care for such wounds, should they occur. Stiches. Stiches unlike what I’m familiar with.

                So using Edni’s technique, I locate a mound of ants. Red ants. By choosing just one in the pinch of my fingers, I place the head and pinchers still intact on the body of the ant, just over the cut on my arm. The ant clamps down in a fury at first touch to my skin. Thus, closing a portion of the cut with his mandibles’ bite. The ant does not let go. Ever. He will remain clamped to my skin until he dies. I pinch with my fingers and snip his body off. Done. The war for an ant. He won’t let go. I do this again and again. All along the length of the cut on my arm until the entire cut is stitched with fury ants. It’s painful, but it works.

                I follow the path back to Shulon. Quietly. Going against the better judgement of Oil Rag, I am driven to speak with the Shulon warriors, and their leaders. To make peace with them and perhaps enlist them in resistance. The resistance that Oil Rag longs for. Perhaps some of them will listen.

                Climbing the rocks, I take a shorter route to Shulon. Instead of going around the rocky mountain, I go over it. I can save a day of travel that way. North by north west. A straight line to Shulon. I presume Oil Rag returned back to Cainan. I can meet him there later. For now, I must return to Shulon and speak the warriors on my terms.

                The rocks crumble. I sense intimidation, a predatory presence. Watching. Sensing that something or someone is watching me. This is forbidden land. Perhaps I am the only man to ever climb these rocks in many moons. The hairs on the back of my neck; standing. Danger is near. I stop. Listen. No movement. No sound. Silent threat.

                The way back down is precarious. A cavalier descent is foolish and dangerous. The way up is slow and meticulous. I become vulnerable while climbing. So awkward. Noisy. To the side I see the same. Loose rocks. Poor footing. Careful ascension is the only reasonable choice.

                I continue up the steep mountain. The sparse vegetation thins. The rocks are dry, brittle and hot. I’m thirsty. My muscles shake under duress. This steep climb taxes my endurance. I slip and fall; violently. Everything happened so fast. Slipping. Falling. Bashing every rock on the way down. I knew I was going to die on the rocks below. But a strong hand grasps my arm and pulls me to a ledge. A large crevice. An entrance to a cave. The mouth of which overlooks the steep cliff that I climb. I am drawn to an upright position at the edge of the cave by strong arms. The man’s feet are huge within sandals.

                He views my arm. The stitches made from ant mandibles. The cut has reopened. Blood flows. He tears a strip of his robe and covers the stitches. Wrapping the cloth around my arm to reduce the flow of blood. He takes a vile from a satchel he wears and produces some white power. He pats the powder to the cloth around my arm. I feel a numbing. That powder is some sort of treatment that works fast. The pain subsides. Almost immediately.

                I look up at the man’s face who just saved my life. He is a Shulon. However, he has no weapons of war. Only a staff made of some natural wood; sanded smooth. There are stones of many colors embedded in the stave. Set in a row. They glow. I look beyond the Shulon and the cave expands. A trail leads off into another area. I hear water dripping. “Drink?”

                He stares at me. He speaks a foreign language to me. I understand it not. He continues. My thoughts flash words of ones and zeros. I see binary and X’s and more binary written in chalk on black iron squares. Digital signals. I hear chirping gibberish and water; dripping. Then I comprehend words. “Drink. Sleep. Travel. Shulon is near. After you sleep. Then we enter.”

                I rested on the dirt floor of this cavern. Refreshed from the drinking water and the coolness of the cave, I slept. No dreams. I slept for an undetermined amount of time…



Unfriendly Escorts.


                Later, I awake to the sounds of crickets. Their chirps do echo in the cave. Dripping water and cricket chirps. Many crickets. So many that the chirping becomes a steady buzz. I am awake. How else would I notice the chirping? I attempt to rise. My hands are tied. My feet are tied. I hear talking nearby in another segment of the cave. Their voices echo. Then I hear a loud slap. I sense the pain of a man; slapped. I struggle to my feet and shuffle to the edge of the nearby chamber in the cave to see what’s happening. There are several Shulon warriors and several men who are attached to a long horizontal bamboo pole. By the neck they are attached. Captives.

                I duck out of sight. I’m not interested in confronting these warriors. My thoughts once again flash words of ones and zeros. Seeing binary and X’s and more binary of chalk on black iron squares. I hear chirping. I turn, and there is the Shulon who saved my life. Standing behind me. He says, “Do not struggle. Do not resist. You cannot enter Shulon without an escort. You would be killed. Allow yourself to be tethered.”

                Reluctantly, I comply. I enter the chamber and the Shulon warriors examine me. They speak the to the Shulon who saved my life and then proceed to fasten a noose around my neck. The other end of which is attached to the bamboo pole along with the three other captives. They then untied my hands and feet. I am simply tethered to the other three. I can only go where they go.

                I sit with the others in silence for a time. The warriors go out and come into the cave frequently. As if they’re waiting or looking for something before leaving the cave. Free use of my hands is good. I see a dagger on the cave floor. No one is watching me. I slide my foot over to the dagger and drag it toward me. I quietly slide it under the bandage that the … the Shulon who saved my life… Wait. He didn’t tell me his name. I’m just going to call him the Shulon Medicine Man. I don’t know what else to call him. So, the dagger is uncomfortable under the bandage, but it’s concealed and secure. Hidden from view. I feel uneasy about trusting these Shulon. I don’t know why I am tethered like this. I’ve no plans escape.

                After a time, all the Shulon gather in the cave chamber and begin chattering among themselves. They are discussing something which I cannot understand. Like casting lots. They point at the four of us tethered together. Then one Shulon takes the lead rope of the bamboo pole and motions for us to get up and follow. We all comply.

                These three captives. These three tethered with me are bruised. Beaten. One of them appears to be severely wounded. Blood is spattered down his shoulders. From an ear. His ear had been bleeding. I wonder why that Shulon Medicine Man dressed my wounds on my arm, yet does not attend to this man who is obviously in pain. Part of his ear is missing. He shakes. He staggers a little. He’s obviously tired, perhaps exhausted. Yet no one pays any attention.    

                We follow the Shulon lead through the various chambers of the cave and proceed along a descending path. The cave walls which have to this point been mottled and gray are changing color. The gray is turning to red and then to black. The flickers of flame on the torches that are mounted along the cave walls are changing color as well. From yellow to red. I make a guess that the color change is due to some sort of gaseous influence to the air. I sense an odor. Not an aroma. An odor of some sort of gas. The way I understand it, flames burn blue if the ratio of fuel to air is correct. A yellow flame is a symptom that the flame is not getting enough air for complete combustion. What makes the flame red? I don’t know. Perhaps lithium or strontium. Silver white metals. But what is that concentration of gas?

                We continue descending down a winding narrow path in this cave. The further we go, the more difficult it is to breath. Getting hot. Dizzy. My vision, blurred. And then, the captive in front of me, the one with the bleeding ear, collapses. All fall as we are all attached by a noose to the same bamboo pole. The dagger slips from the bandage on my arm and slides to the cavern bedrock. The medicine man notices it. He looks directly into my eyes, yet without uttering a word. I pick up the dagger and slide it back under the bandage; keeping my eyes on the medicine man the whole time. He does not protest, or intervene.

                My satchel; gone. My food? My supplies? No food. No water. No nothing. Just a bandage, a dagger and a coat of skin. That’s all I carry. Still dizzy from a lack of fresh air, we help each other to stand and continue down the path at the tug from the lead Shulon warrior.

                As we progress down this path, we’re joined by other Shulon warriors. They also lead groups of captives. All tethered to bamboo poles. Just like the one I’ve submitted to.

                As various paths join from time to time, the cavern walls are widening. The main path is getting wider. More traveled. The cavern chambers we pass through are getting larger. Many more warriors join the main road in the vast cavern. And many more captives; all tethered; all being led to somewhere.

                I hear the sound of drum beats. I hear chatter. Chirping. Crickets and dripping water once again. The chants grow louder and louder as we progress toward the frenzy. All of the captives I’ve seen to this point are men. Similar to me. Similar in height. Not tall like the Shulon. Not bearing beads and marks of color on their bodies.

                We enter a very large chamber. The walls are filled with the bones of men. Attached with fish-like netting to the walls. Altars, fires, stalls of some kind; like a market. Many people. All chattering in this foreign language. This chamber is filled with women. Shulon women. They stand by primitive stalls, like open half domes. They peddle items for sale. Curios. Little figures carved from wood or bone. Beads. Powder. Cloth. Everything appears hand-made. They exchange the items for sale with the Shulon warriors and other Shulon who are dressed in robes like what the medicine man wears. These women exchange the items not for money, but for human ears. The warriors I noticed carry small pouches. These pouches contain the ears that they trade. For… whatever the women are selling. What do the women do with these ears?

                All of us captives on the bamboo poles are being led from every direction through this market area. The Shulon warriors weave us through the crowds. This market is not our destination. We progress forward through the crowd. The drums getting louder still. The chanting. The chirping. It nauseates me. The air is fowl.

                I notice a different structure. Still made of bamboo, but square, not round like the other domes. This bamboo structure houses different women. They’re not tall like the Shulon women. Not painted like the Shulon women. And they are not free. They are painted blue. Patches of smeared blue paint all over them. And streaks of white. Many of them are half naked. Some have coats of skin. A few with dingy robes or rags. These women; all confined behind a fenced area of the market chamber. Sharpened spikes at the top of the fences. They’re either being sold as slaves, or they’re being used by the Shulon for pleasure and sexual entertainment. Exploited for sure. I hear all the chatter but I can’t decipher the language used. Of the women captives, distress and fear is in their eyes. Some of them with fresh tears. Some beaten. Others I silent fear.

                Now surrounded by literally hundreds of captives as we pass by these women, led by Shulon warriors, all headed in the same direction. Toward the drums. Toward the chanting. Toward death? Sacrifice. …That’s what’s happening here. Human sacrifice. One after another. The captives are sold to the highest bidder. One at a time.

                I was pushed onto a platform and the bidding began. Various Shulon elite were bidding on me. A barbaric auction. Humiliating. I would become a slave to one of these Shulon. Or worse. There were several women bidding on me. Upper class Shulon women? That’s my guess. Because the robes they wore, no matter how scant, were superior in design and sleek fit. Finer quality than all the other women I had seen. What’s my destiny?

                Initially there was a lot of chatter and much bidding on me. It went back and forth between several men and these two women. Then as the bid went up, the field of interest narrowed. It was now between several Shulon warriors and one of the women. They were bidding higher and higher for me.

                I resisted the hands of the auctioneer as he squeezed my jaw. I did not want to show my teeth. I did not want to submit to slavery either. The Shulon auctioneer struck me with a switch. He wanted to inflict pain without harming the merchandise. Me. One of them came close. She stared. I don’t know if she approved or not, but she bid higher than the men. It seemed to be enough. I waited for their version of “going once, going twice… Sold!” …But then I saw the medicine man. The one who had guided me here. And he bid.

                This made the woman furious. She raised her bid again. But the medicine man out-bid her. She flaunted herself at me and moved closer. As if I could influence the bidding? As if she were seducing me to select her? Quite confusing this was.

As if it was my loss that she did not win me as a slave.

                While this was happening, I focused on the medicine man. What is his motivation? Why did he bring me here? To purchase me legally? Is this their culture? Would I be a sacrifice to their gods? Would I be a sex slave? Or a house servant?

                My eyes were attracted to something in the distance. Among the crowds, I saw a man. The torso of a man with a man’s head and arms. Golden hair. Long matted hair. He had four legs. Like that of a horse. I could hardly believe my eyes. A centaur? A Nephilim? A male. He wandered the crowd unnoticed. No one seemed surprised. Except me. This was a surreal moment for me.

                The medicine man was now in charge of my destiny. He won the bid on my soul. I was released from the platform and another man was forced on to that stage. The bidding resumed immediately. The bidding for a human slave or sacrifice.

                After the exchange of what looked like white powdered marbles, some sort of money, I was given over to the medicine man. He immediately proceeded to return to me my satchel and hatchet. Through all the commotion and chatter of the next bidding, he held the back of my head and pressed firmly with the palm of his other hand against my forehead. I did not resist. The medicine man chanted some words and then turned to watch the bidding take place. As if I were free to go.

                I felt my forehead. He had inserted, burned, or placed some sort of insignia, mark, or sign on my forehead. An indication of something without explanation. I remained with the medicine man. I needed to know more about… What just happened?

                I felt a tug on my arm. The woman whom the medicine man had out-bid was pressing against me. For that attention I turned to her. Her eyes were dark. Ebony marble. She had paint around her eyes and she wore heavy jewelry. Silver. And turquoise. Her hair was black and thick. Her lips were painted. Red. She spoke to me. “Come with me,” she said.

                I looked at the medicine man for a reaction. He appeared not to care. I was no longer of interest to him. He gave no directions or explanation for this encounter. He expressed no concern over this woman’s gestures. I felt permission was not needed, so I followed the woman.

                We were moving away from the market. We passed by an area where the destiny of a man was forced. His destiny was now short-lived. He was provided to the … to the... to the what? An executioner? Whatever they call the Shulon man who performed a human sacrifice on this captive. A priest? That’s hardly what I would call him. But this was an obvious religious ceremony of sacrifice to whatever god it is this Shulon nation worships. The tortured man was beheaded. His heart torn out. And the stench was horrible. Death surrounded me. Embraced my soul. This man just perished before my eyes. I was very troubled. I heaved. Many headless bodies surrounding that… that alter of sacrifice.

                The woman leading me made a quick exit from this area, passing by without delay and I followed her rapid descent down an exterior path that led to the open sky. Trees. Birds. Blue sky. Fresh air. But the sky was different. The clouds. They were living. This was not sky at all. I was still underground. I was in some strange world I’d never seen before. An underground world of myth. The sky was living. A ceiling of spirits. It was real. Or was it?



[1]  The Book of Jubilees or The Little Genesis. Translated from the Editor's Ethiopic Text and edited, with introduction, notes, and indices by R. H. Charles, D.D. Professor of Biblecal Greek, Trinity College, Dublin. London Adam and Charles Black. 1902. Retrieved 5/30/2016: Introduction. Ivi 16. Angelology and Demonology of Jubilees. http://www.forbiddengate.com/Jubilees.pdf

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