Presentation on theme: "The Kraken of Konstantiniyye: A Novella in Two Parts By Sam Chirtel Mentor Anne Eakin Moss Invocation Perhaps you can make some sense of this. I am a young."— Presentation transcript:
The Kraken of Konstantiniyye: A Novella in Two Parts By Sam Chirtel Mentor Anne Eakin Moss Invocation Perhaps you can make some sense of this. I am a young man of a young race and you are old…so old that the Old Ones themselves are mere larvae before you. So old that even the Great Stillborn Giants obey you and cry “Father!” at your approach. Your wings span Creation…covering the countless things-for that is how you must view such ephemeral creatures as men or black suns-which daily vanish into the aether with only you to witness them. Retreat from the sterile embraces of your favorite children for but an instant, and hear my plea. I have…my mind has been stretched and my heart has been broken, you see. It is hard to say more. Master, I mean to speak to you of the Kraken. Below the twin globes of the Sultan’s head and the majestic cloth crown above it, a body ballooned to the size of a small house and sank a strong foundation into a soil of jewels, bulky grey and white boxes with shining flat faces, artisanries and artifices in a thousand different materials, coins with innumerable male, female, and monstrous faces…a pile of treasure to challenge the gods’ boundless archives, many times the wealth I had devoted my short life to acquiring. Pieces of the glittering filth clamored over and bit into the Sultan’s hills of flesh, and I could find no clear boundry between his body and his booty. The Kraken awaited in Byrsan’tum, where man’s ancestors went to revere their elders’ idols. The city that sleeps beneath itself. He knew many such vaguaries and repeated them all. He began to walk. Here my story begins. Its tip was a noble pike, surely forged to lance cataphracts and support the heads of deposed hierophants. The point begat a voluptuous triangular sillouhette that curled slightly at each end of its base. I felt that hear I behld the perfect mold which the vain gods had sought to propagate in debased form as the accursed Cuttlefish and their bestial brethren. Here was a creature of pure fluidity and contemplation, one which glided silently and elegantly over the land to inspire its denizens’ dreams instead of tumpling loudly around its little peaks to keep them from sleeping The entire world erupted into the Kraken, each stone of the City melting back into the flesh of its founder, my last sight the impossible black wave about to envelop me. Time strained, broke, then began to rewind. The Kraken rises everywhere. He is here for you now, Master, wherever your paradise lies. You must embark with Him. You must hunt the Spirits of the Deep Sky… The Kraken spoke. Acknowledgements Those who have helped me with this project are without number. However, I am particularly indebted to my many literary idols, my mentor Anne Eakin Moss for showing me how to read Dostoevsky and so much more, my parents Charlotte Levy and Stuart Chirtel for greatly assisting me with editing, illustrations, and photography, and to the Woodrow Wilson Fellowship for enabling me to pursue my vision free of worldly constraints.