And what of 22, you might rightly ask? And who did Esmerelda turn out to be? Not to mention the stange bookseller and his wife...and what about the Emerald Tablets and Lone Star and... ...well...suffice it to say that Marie Negre was transported safely to the Chanel Boutique, where the effects of a sleeping draught were allowed to wear off as a team of esoteric high priestesses prepared for our lady of the Emerald Isle a suitcase jammed full with a pair of shoes, a purse, a dress and one suit, all done in scarlet, naturally, each bearing the blazon CC that was crafted by a true Leo Queen long ago - a logo containing within its double-C center a perfect vesica piscis, just as a signature should be! By the time our 22 awoke, she found herself traveling on a train, rubbing her head, the chic new valise courtesy of Mademoiselle Coco at her side...and a letter waiting on her lap. Wasting no time, the Black Popess revealed the envelope's contents - a most curious map and a note that read: My wife and I were glad to make your acquaintance this afternoon as we had both previously heard much about you through our underground connection, the Parisian flower seller, Madame Blanche. The sketch book is yours to keep as is all the finery from the Rue Cambon. The map ~ ah the map ~ traces the route of your next adventure ~ a trip south that will take you from Stes.-Maries, to La Baume and finally to the Rose Meridien of Monsieur Dali's Perpignan. In Stes.-Marie, search out Sarah the Gypsy, for she will know her own, Madame Esmerelda (yes, Monsieur Victor Hugo did have a very good reason indeed for the heroine of his Notre Dame romance to be a gypsy)...in Ste. Baume, seek only Her...in Perpignan, you will find what a master once called the center of the Universe for X does mark the spot. Please forgive the intentional kidnapping, as you were not meant to see Notre Dame this time...Miss Olivia has retrieved your papers, and they are safe. As for the unhappy bride, qui sait? Madame Petrenelle and I very much doubt that the Prince of the Shortshanks will wish a union without the promised documents, however, we leave this speculation in the hands of the Fates. We also took your tiny knife, the dagger found on your person and replaced it with a small token of our esteem ~ remember well, Madame that in the words of the great Voltaire, your pen is your sword ~ remember your friends Nicolas and Petrenelle, also, when you write your story of the Magdalena ~ for we are with you always, through all the mornings of the world. Le Maître Flemalle "Flemalle, eh?" 22 laughed, reaching into her trousers pocket to see what she had been gifted by the duo of supposed legend. Soon a pen was produced - a beautiful black pen of Mt. Blanc extraction ~ a sign that was not lost on our heroine of the Emerald Tablets. Thus, the Black Popess did in fact journey much as Three Wise Men of the Magoi had once done long ago to the Shrine of Sara the Egyptian, surrounded by a joyous gypsy entourage, a Romany escort that somehow knew to lead her to Ste. Baume, a lonely hermitage situated in a wilderness setting, high atop a hill. Glancing up to the spot of the shrine, knowing full well the climb would be difficult, the new Esmerelda reached down and removed a pair of red kid Coco Chanel stilettos, entrusting the shoes to an older lady of the faithful Zingaros before setting out on a very personal pilgrimage. Impressed with 22's foresight, the old woman returned with a pair of green sneakers and a smile, motioning for Marie Negre to don the old running shoes, which she did, not even bothering to ask from where they came, somehow already knowing the answer. For a Voice beckoned and she began to climb towards the cave...a climb more arduous than any she had experienced in her life...a road that led to the Rose...a Rite of Passage that cannot be explained, rather only experienced by those of pure heart...by those who within their souls carry the mystical seeds of Cathari flowers. Later, much later, a spiritually renewed Black Popess thought long about the unexpected journey that had ultimately led to a small hotel in Perpignan, the spot in the center of the world where the divine Dali and his wife Gala had planted a Rose Mercedes and a Cosmic Egg in a town square, and decided to compose a Secret Journal, an allegorical tale that might better prepare her for the final test still to be taken, a precursor to the myriad of lessons left to be learned. A short treatise on Sekhmet's power and the Law of the Universe - the One Law that sees all and knows all and cannot be denied - the One for all and all for One law - a fable inspired by Aesop and La Fontaine, and perhaps the Puss of Charles Perrault, now that your narrator thinks of it... Oui, drink to zee Black Kitties.... Copyright © 2001 - ad infinitum cybersybils.com All rights reserved. Back to the Château