Descending Road - THE BARD SANG AND THE TALE UNFOLDED by Dana W. Paxson

THE BARD SANG AND THE TALE UNFOLDED

1551 4D

He grieved, drawing vat-softened nails again and again across his chest, ripping furrows in his pale translucent skin until the keepers outside the vat flooded him with sedatives, and fed soothing scenes through his biomask.

He awoke from the stupor, delved through innerspace into the open sectors of the Great Archive. A huge cuboidal honeycomb, endlessly recursive in scale, the Archive loomed around him in shades of violet and blue-vein, its guidethreads calling their names to him in bird voices. One sang death; he seized it. Stories plucked the strings of his search; seeking escape, he plunged through water-membranes into the music of an ancient tale:

…From there he strode homeward, clutching mauled flesh,

Great belly groaning, gross with fat man-haunch.

Sun rose, at dark daybreak; men shouted murder,

Croaked woe and wrath, from drink-sanded throats;

Grendel‘s great swath rived Hrothgar‘s halls…

An eater of men. What an interesting idea. Tyll‘s throat constricted. He floated in the warm medium of his innerspace, and listened; the bard sang and the tale unfolded, marbled and spiced with hot and urgent blood.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	THE BARD SANG AND THE TALE UNFOLDED 1551 4D He grieved, drawing vat-softened nails again and again across his chest, ripping furrows in his pale translucent skin until the keepers outside the vat flooded him with sedatives, and fed soothing scenes through his biomask. He awoke from the stupor, delved through innerspace into the open sectors of the Great Archive. A huge cuboidal honeycomb, endlessly recursive in scale, the Archive loomed around him in shades of violet and blue-vein, its guidethreads calling their names to him in bird voices. One sang death; he seized it. Stories plucked the strings of his search; seeking escape, he plunged through water-membranes into the music of an ancient tale: …From there he strode homeward, clutching mauled flesh, Great belly groaning, gross with fat man-haunch. Sun rose, at dark daybreak; men shouted murder, Croaked woe and wrath, from drink-sanded throats; Grendel‘s great swath rived Hrothgar‘s halls… An eater of men. What an interesting idea. Tyll‘s throat constricted. He floated in the warm medium of his innerspace, and listened; the bard sang and the tale unfolded, marbled and spiced with hot and urgent blood.