Finding Calvin Pt. V – IV - L’Ego, mon Ego (Update 3/27/26)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Finding Calvin Pt. V – The Golden Horde - IV - L'Ego, Mon Ego
Past
Circe’d greebling
He reconfitted
But with his
weaving
He felt un-pitted
Now on slated
And
concealment lifted
A provocation
Another visit
But
in
his visage
It
was no misses
A clenching
toddler
With
midnight witness
And
through his tottered
And
through
betwixting
He
pinched
the
owl
A
prophet’s
minting
For
past
pine’ d
facings
Mandiculating
Topsy-turveyed
It
clenched frustrating
But Janus-facing
The Okame’d
baby
Held six degrees
To Calvin baking
Though
momentary
And disappearing
It cruciated
Subliminal
layerings
Past aprophenia
And incohering
A martyred
Maria
A master mirroring
An ignormaus
A
sheep he’s sheering
A Judas goat
A query not querying
He
broadens his scope
Panoramically leering
An identical foe
100 yards he’s peering
For under the umberage’d
Some mimic or demon
That brandished ram’s wool
And the spear he was squeezing
As Calvin honed it honed
So there was no way to deem it
But as Calvin reached for a rock
The
mimic’d bluffed before weaving
(Because there were no rocks
where the mimic mimic’d)
Calvin prepared for an encounter
But the mimic quickly vanished
Beyond the varied arbored
Where many stood highly vantage’d
Aft the cobble’d stone rustled
And Calvin intuitively managed
Like an eagle spreading its wings (?)
Atop the Eiffe’d in Paris
For with his topped torso
Bending with spear aptly planted
Phalanx’ing armpitting and elbow
He found the on-rusher’s larynx
Still just with back exposed
And one eye for the gauging
The last containermates froze
As there was none for the taking
So faster than a stone’s throw
Into the near-abridged shading
But the shadowed pine cones
Hid the unknown decollating
Was it a friend or a foe
Was it something for feeding
Was it his glowering host
Was it the reason he’s keeping
Finally reaching the castle
And its preceding open clearing
Footing the earth-embattled
A Roman feat of engineering
The wedging’s furlong’ing furloughed
And times ten for the weaving
Beyond its debarked overgrown
He kept to the kempt sunlit preening
Suddenly a far-off horn blow
Crowning the threshold for believing
As an above red stag abello’d
Foreshadowing barbican’d leanings
Reaching the densely stacked stone
And the gatehouse absent gleaming
He peered the lancet semicircles
Crescent’ing beyond his sight’s ceiling
Stumbling
on a side door of strong Oak
Sturdy but aged with weathered
impittings
He wedged his spear where the butt-jointed
crowed
Using his farmer’s strength and spear as a jimmy
Warily
entering the mural artichoke’d
He ventured forth toward the
gothic red nascing
That glimmered upon his hunter’s pole
And
murder holes found above and adjacing
There
was a silence unbespoke’d
An intent only further emanating
Following quavered rustles to and fro
Concealing for
an Adorno’d unsheathing
Suddenly a distorted undertone
A
mocking malevolence self-betraying
As Calvin’s recollections
would be unstowed
Refracted and reverberated for the reframing
"isn't that your mascot?" (Sarah, Powder Privilege)
“A lizard found in a king's palace?" (Wellington, A Trans Blend)
“but I think, more than likely, he is retarded” (Xao,The Rise)
"We should Baker act him" (Sarah, power privilege)
“Shh...perhaps one greater than Paul is now here” (Derivation, Bloom Twice)
Calvin
knew he could not waffle
Amid the demonic pancaking
For
through was his only known hope*
Among the sunlit masticating
The
impish snickering died down
Then a strangled Cthonic muffling
An
eminence only further pronounced
By
the knavish precedings of lesser beings
Suddenly
a voice accented and sotto’d...
“I
like to play games too” (Lamington, True Blue)
Here's what happened:
- he feels insecure
- he's visited by another vision
- He thinks he sees a toddler walking between trees staring at Calvin clutching an
owl by the ankles--and, for a brief moment, the toddler is wearing an okame mask
between trees before disappearing ( perhaps the toddler would be wearing pampers, or perhaps Scottish
garb....ooo, maybe he's
wearing a little kilt!.)
The vision is about Baker Brian's haunting and the owl, or "prophet", from his tower dream.
-
he makes it to the castle
- he enters a narrow mural hallway with murder holes and a red illumination from, presumably, the way forward
- he encounters demonic taunts (I imagine them tuning their voices to mimic distorted versions of his past interactions, but with an undertone of impish'ness present )
- he thinks he hears one greater still
Calvin’s known circumstance has changed with the appearance of the baby: he is no longer traveling through the phenomenon feeling clandestine, but one that has been reflected within it
I wanted to be as nondescript as possible with the mysterious killings and beings. This provides flexibility going forward as there is more then one possibility going forward
*$* - On a separate note: From an outside perspective, it could be seen as irreverent to write anything this provocative, or anything like Coup De Tarte. But I liken it to a father watching his son play T-Ball. He doesn't think that his son is mocking baseball, but that his son is trying to understand how the game is played.
In fact, it's actually a jab at Calvin for all of his Bundt cake and donut excursions.
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