Archepolis by Issac Pilgrim

Summary: Just a little dream-story I might finish some time.
Rating: No Rating
Categories: Fiction
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 06/21/09
Updated: 06/21/09

Archepolis by Issac Pilgrim
Chapter 1: Archepolis
Author's Notes:

In a dream I first saw the primal city. I had first read of it in Issac Pilgrim's blasphemous yet strangely beguiling "Anatomy of Antiquity", that compendium of all that is curious and hoary, and also detected hints as to its nature in the writings of Volney, Shelley and Praxcodotus. The haunting "Liber Crepusculum" mentions it in the same breath as Nineveh and Yebboth, and Scoloverious, in the first book of his tremendous "Primagenia" writes abstractedly of Archepolis, that has been called nameless by some. Thomas Burnet conjectures, in an obscure letter to Woherius Glecher, that the legended ur-city may have been involved and anannihilated utterly in the noarchian cataclysm.
But Archepolis is the name I heard whispered from afar while I slumbered fitfully in that accursed boarding-house on M_______St. To the cunning, the ambitious, and the mercenary a city such as the one I had been compelled by penury to seek out would logically prove a great opportunity for advancement, but to one such as I, to whom haste and competition are anathema, and who's principle pleasure and sustenance lie in scholarly pursuits and the harmless indulgence of a taste in the old and the outre, metropolitan life had atrophied my humble poetic ambitions, and corroded my confidence to the point where I no longer had the courage or inclination to even maintain my presence at the dockside warehouse where I had found employment. Enervated and disillusioned, sleep never overtook me in my rancid cot without the assistance of the cheap, sickly-sweet wine I had taked to purchasing each evening as an anodyne. For to the truely sensitive, sleep never comes easily.
And so that night, while my body lay sodden and inert, and while a cacaphony of sottish hilarity shook the rotting frame of that sordid bunkhouse, I descended from the Cerontian hills to wander through the blossom-festooned streets and fountained courtyards of Archepolis.
Archepolis! Compared to which Topkapi and Babylon are but shadows and adumbra! Any earthly city of such density and magnitude would have thralled her denizens in perpetual gloom, but the highest domes and towers and minarets of Archepolis were fashioned all of marvellously tainted glass and crystal, so that the rays of the sun poured down upon the people in ineffable chiascuros and cataracts of rainbow. Through alleys illimitable I idled and gaped, and when the citizens of Archepolis accosted me, and inquired whence I had come, I feigned dumbness rather than name the prosy city of my origin. Then, the women of Archepolis draped my in a robe of flowers gathered on the purpureal slopes of Cerontak, and the children in a dancing ring led me on, ever on, through a madness of masonry...

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