Chapter I:  Tower of Constance

Chapter I: Tower of Constance

A Chapter by Glen Yumang Manese
"

Prosper must choose his faith in God and science to bring back memories of the only person he’s ever cherish. Given tools to change time or become a memory himself. What does he elect to do?

"




Years and decades have passed.  Almost at the turn of two centuries and still, mystery behind the gates and walls of this sacred place safeguarded from the outside world.  Here’s a detailed account from the previous undertakers.  Only my time seems to be passing like the rest of them.  One fascination remains different from the others.  I wrote down the passages of time.  A legend is just that if told from person to person.  This is truly more than a verisimilitude love story.  A vindication of life is a journey.  We choose our own battles and find ways to conquer them.  Let me unfold the adventure.  Real virtue is behind facades.  Cenotaph lurks within a distant footpath beyond the jagged rocks towards the waterfall and sandy beach.             

 

Words inscribed to the outside entrance foyer, before the doors, each line carved into black granite stone and layering the meaning in white coral letters.  The last spoken words of love for his mortal wife laying down all his will to give her everlasting peace, but letting goes in his desires of life.  He would live to the age of ninety-nine.  On the signing at the end of his words would be two nines.  Significance is number ninety-nine.  Image was not a test of time, but an enduring freedom to outlive even the extreme situation.  In which, someone would one day uncover the history left behind through his hardship, everlasting sleep, and be put to rest, unbounded, untouched, but one day to be with her in the stratosphere of heaven.

 

There’s a passage below the inscription would read:

 

Only time knows the silence that lies before me in my eternal sleep secrets which thus far cry out a bird’s hymn to notes so far ago as recall of a lapse departure weeps personality lives afar when in doubt without translation to discoveries jealousy controls not in my peace speeches clear in thought process lavender to a scent of mulberry.  Tsinkiand sheets of satin release my visions upon the eye’s sphere to dreams in being with you.  Orifice exhales excess vapors of carbon to part oxide breathing the oxygen of wind’s pure earth.  When temptations are ill, will to subject that taking death early is an option.  In mourners’ black crow calls my exile.  Tragedy wills no one’s birth and Hades fires’ claim my respect.  There is no end, without a new beginning.  99.

 

Substance of ninety-nine lies within the grand entrance doors and so begins a new chapter in his life to continue forward, until his passing to humble himself and tell the story of his family and beloved wife of Constance in the elaborate design of an artisan.  An eternity of pearls encrusted the very name on the walls and his seems washed away by time, but erosion would leave a blurred letter, K, just one letter, K.  How such a person would enters?  There is a lock on the door.  Given three clues, written ninety-nine, her name Constance, and a single letter K of his name remain in question.                        

 

Tower of Constance faced in a southeast direction at five o'clock, seemingly.  Statue of Constance, much smaller he built on a waterfall cliff slightly higher in the distance due west of the tower.  Circular ring wall of white granite stone would border the statue.  A bronze gate would open to the courtyard of the main area with the inscription of Carpe Diem etched in Latin. One can hear the sound of a dawn chorus upon entering.  On the ground, such architecture of the zodiac in delicate detail of precision in black porcelain and the images of each printed to creative art.  As if alive to add much mystery to the structure and taking the time to consume with visionary clarity from the top of the circle, each molded in silver, but interchanged in gold.  Colors bring the place to give much thought.  Work of the man in his days, out living the memory to the very end as the movement sends the view to the statue.  Constance’s eyes were hollow with a vertical line in the center of each eye as tear drops fell down her cheeks in pearls.  Image in white seashells, her red coral hair blowing aimlessly into the opposing wind seemingly, and her hand pointed to a valley, a crypt that lay to rest both of them in the open fields under some magnificent oak tree lays their true names?

 

In leaving the courtyard, one’s eyes can envision a variety of roses growing mysteriously in plain sight on the inside and outside polish black granite walls as the gate closes behind me.  Click of the sound would cause an event to vision such a structure, another dedication of the amplitude in his solitude mind.  Artwork is a timeless treasure to be adorning, a definite place remembered, and cherish in a perception of his portrayal.  Adding serene in the aspects of a dedication that life is quite present and not dying.  Time is an illusion here.     

 

Sunlight still lingering to full mass, in venturing to the valley due north, looking at the view of mastery in the infinite landscape of gardens, walkways, fencing, and terraces to each location, discovers the crypt, and name of the untold man, the artist behind his mystery, and name.  Undercroft was the oak tree, but strangely enough was not just the size of the tree, seems different types to form the oddly curved design of the branches grafted the seed planted here.  If one looked behind the trunk and branches, the leaves in the distance hid a mystifying aviary. Another dazzling spectacle of trees adored the walkway to the sight.  Each tree grew a variety of fruits, not just a specific kind on different branches.  On a stone tablet imprinted on the ground were these words:

 

In my heart, lay sorrow and joy with the many tears flowing that give birth to this hollow ground, but grow within two people into one will be this place, my Constance and our lives, which not given to be a complete circle.  One day, could my life be put to rest beside her tomb in a moment of time?  A remainder of the stars, do not fall into a collapse dismal madness.   

 

Does he speak in riddles?  This was not their burial place, but that of his unborn daughter.  In fact, Constance’s tears were for a child conceived and short-lived, but taken and buried in place here for his unnamed daughter.  Did the oak tree symbolize her remembrance?  Seems more a symbol of his daughter, then an actual sanctified site of burial.  There is no tombstone to signify such a deposition.  More an added way to keep the cryptic hidden and out of thought.  Again, at the end of the inscription would be the double nines.

 

Did she have a name or would that be edited to keep unknown?  Another stone tablet would read these words of the significance of her name and testimony:

 

Kālī, an angel above and below will be your place, but may your branches reach the sky and hold no limits, but that your wings guide an entry back to the untouched lands?  A life called Kālī, but a daughter bared the seed to grow into a sentiment of nature.  Temporal keeps your essence suspended.  Life is a given.  Death factors not, but a submission to bequeath freely.    

 

A surprise launch of a bald eagle would emerge from the branches of the oak tree.  Startling my attention, quickly climbing to the top of the tree, and get a better view of the bird of prey. My eyes linked to the movement of the white head and dark bodied creature. She flies over the entire circumference of the land. View of her sight showing the path of the next clue to awaken the answer. Shadow the eagle within the sun, dives into the ocean to catch a bounty and flies to the area of Constance’s smaller statue, which faced east toward the tower.  Landing to the location of my awaited answer as the sun begins to rise at full mass from the height of the tree a better view of the tower. Importance of the location had to do with the building of the terrain. In climbing further up the branches and finding that a carving was left on the upper trunk of the tree marked, Kāla, since the location is pointing to the north star, Polaris, at all times, that in fact the tower moves like the rotation of a clock, down to the seconds, minutes, and hours of the Earth.  Tower of Constance slowly revolves the other statue to alignment.  On the waterfall cliff slightly more at an angle to reflect the sunlight rays, give details on the hollow eyes of the smaller statue of her image, and reveal the keys to the real crypt in the opening of the tower.                 


Light from the sun would show through her eyes, the letter K, in Constance’s name would be the clue to opening the loose stone embedded in place. Vertical lines would make the letters c into letters k.  How does one open the lock?  In going back and investigate the statue further to find her other hand pointed at a stone in the wall of the tower.  Although, quite a distance to see and take into interpretation a few calculated conjecture.  In coming and leaving once more to glance at the marvel of the spectacle in view.  That her eyes held another wonder as water begins to flow with the first drop hitting a seemingly bottomless well and the circle begins to fill with her tears.  Seems each day just as the sun comes to peer through her eyes, the sorrow of night begins to take the mood into dusk.  In making my way back to the tower, by moving slowly across the stones the hidden key laid in waiting for centuries.  Exactly, nine bricks to the west and nine bricks east, right back to the same location with no results from the entrance doors, but completely west to the first brick to the right door, though these bricks were made of hardening diamond composite and designed to look like bricks in nature.  A certain cover-up detected only, after a closer examination of the deception.    

 

If one had found the oddly shaped star key by mistake to the tower and had pressed the right letters, the doors would not open due to the alignment was out of position.  Precision must take into perspective the exact hours, minutes and seconds of the Earth’s true time of 23.56.00.  Another counter move to understand the complexity of the procedure.  Decisive moment lies within a turn, a revolution, and a click of the dial as the pieces come together on the doors.  Lock and key was specially threaded backwards to turn east, instead of west and the secondary dial on the star key with all the combinations was another countermeasure in entering.  By turning the dial completely to the left would align to opening the lock, only after going nine clicks to the left, nine clicks to the right, and spinning the dial completely to the west, until the dial stops would the cycle be complete.  Only when the eyes of Constance are shining on the letters c turn to letters k.  Can the entirety of the unsolved be witnessed?  Mystery letter K was not a mystery, but a way to lead a misrepresentation in entering by making the erosion look like erosion on purpose and was the name of their daughter, Kālī, by looking closer the other three letters are there, only concealed in camouflage to blend more with the color of the doors and the unique way of naming his daughter, but in the astronomic dawn of morning this could easily be mistaken and at the top of the doors would read in Latin these words:

 

The Feliciano family is just beyond these doors.  A defeat, which wills no surrender and a life that, will live without them, but a life of my worth fills the land of their memory, forever.  99. 

 

This would explain the signature of 99 at the end of the inscription on the outside foyer that 99 is the artist’s name by using two backward letters p as the authenticity of his signature and another way to distract attention of revealing his work, but these letters were also not present from the beginning.  After deciphering the clues to the opening of the tower, would they reveal themselves for the first time? 


Openings of the jade whale fin handles on the doors seem to take the world at a standstill as they protrude almost magically from hidden lacks inside the door walls, just like the letters of the inscription on the top of the arch.  When the sequence of the key and lock presented themselves.  In a striking moment, silence, pure, silence, and then a rushing gust of air fills the chambers from inside and automatically the mammoth fortified bronze doors open for the first time in centuries.  Darkness would now meet the light of the outside world, as the protections of silver shields on the circular windows around the tower slowly slide down and open to let the last sunlight rays penetrate the inner structure.  Light from atop of the dome would glow within certain areas of the inner structure.  A peaceful radiance rekindled never felt quite at ease in a place of tranquility, just at the same time to hear and feel a tremor beneath my feet, but looking behind me to see in front of the tower an opening of the earth and releasing a fountain of unimaginable size, a breathtaking view as the windmills to the east in the distance begin to spin in unison, seems to be the source of energy to powering the tower and her surroundings.  This would act as a counterweight to the enormous doors to open into the tower, again an added measure of security and many fallible ways to keep this place sacred through the sands of time.  In certain locations of the land would also rise bronze torches from the ground and light the coming of night.  Smell of natural gas ignited to give the beauty of the flames swirling like fireflies in the sky, above to the crown of Constance’s hair and various torches around the circumference of fields in the distance.  Image of Cancer and Pisces would emulate, as water begins to release into the air, and feeling the mist of water as the gentle wind blows the droplets from the fountain.  In opening the doors would trigger a switch to the rise of his hidden secrets, yet to unfold back in the mysteries of such an artistic realm by admiring the panoramic view of the spectacle and turning once more to the enigmatic entrance, to the tower.  After entering, the doors begin to close automatically and the star key is visible on the inside of the structure.  Spinning rapidly for a few minutes and coming to a complete stop.  Then again, slowly moving again like a circular clock.  As if igniting an unknown presence in the conclusive scheme of the occurrence.  A certain protective element within the design of this inhabitance.

 

This was to be their intricate domicile, yet ghostly empty.  Scenery was elaborated and the floor was a complete mosaic of marble stone within the axis, a motion picture of Prosper and Constance, as if alive in the present.  A rose stood between them as the thorns showing a shield of protection, but a symbol of Kālī, their daughter not forgotten within the rose stood a heart to unify all of them together in harmony and all are smiling without a glimpse of sadness, but pure joy.  A bitter life he lived, but not a sign of guilt or remorse.  One of many of his family to rekindle a moment in a picture, which challenge even time could not stop.  Ageless in the magnitude of the mural in delicate pieces.     

 

In standing at the center of the mosaic would be three circular chambers dedicating one to his wife on the right and another to the left for Kālī though their crypts were not in the rooms. Questioning the importance in the central vault, which remains closed?  Doors of this chamber are marked with golden dragon handles inlaid in silver and faced mirror image of each other with diamond eyes.  Above the doors are gargoyles to the left and right.  In the center of them is a guardian angel looking lifelike in nature.  Writing inscribed in a language of hieroglyphics on the portals of precious metal doors.  Center room is a mystery, yet granted the key, but in due time the chamber will release a significance of the structure.  Coming back to the area of guarded interest, but can only for a time relish the other mysteries, yet to be awakening back to the present time.


In reaching Constance’s dwelling would have curved dark glass portions’ doors, marked with her name in jewels of jade just above the arch entry way held by two huge tremble clef pillars etched with starfish and sand dollars.  In opening the dolphin jade handle doors, the glass would change from dark into transparent and catch the attention of the eyes, sending a chill feeling in the spine.  White coral and seashells adorn every aspect of the area, but he would mold again an image of her beauty at the center of the room in detail of a woman in a wedding dress and the statue containing a replica of Constance, the train of her silver mesh dress spiraling within the realms of infinity.  Auburn locks of red coral flowed with such grace to her mid drift in the blue sapphires of her soul.  Stunning look seems alive with each blink of the eyes. An illusion transforms the beauty held in such a lady, but describing of the poetry in motion to detail, as one would encircle the circular boundary with each delicate step.  Floor was an artwork of the world in the dance of Prosper and Constance as his statue is bending down on one knee and holding her left hand with the placement of her ring in the dress blues of his uniform.  Diamond on the pedestal of her ring glowed like a mirror with perfect clarity, but on the wall would have a passage written in these words:

 

In a moment one eye opens to realize my destiny and the other blinks so you may see my path that in releasing my rights to see my trust, but giving to you my other to know no doubt within us.  So the story of our lives continues the river’s flowing endless edge, but in keeping to this promise pledge, each day my view becomes one’s visual.  A camera follows my film to make a movie lasting the test of time continually between the worlds that convey our lives to the end.  In spinning, the reel of the scene to be our times spent from the first reaction of the first day in the many ways to our garden of an Eden’s unaltered display, the notion of blind pleasure through the land, which covers so vastly a treasure.  Warmth of the sunlight rays into the moon’s ever glowing passion of uninterrupted dismay sharing the distant look above the sky’s stormy stardust questioning nothing that bides both of us knowing within one heart beats yours of overpowering symphonies moving with your ballroom’s grace into the night’s commanding company, pacing and prancing the melody of the electrifying unison to the carefree touch, caressing each other’s compassion feeling the northern breeze of the chilling Arctic passing in a stride of the peaceful Pacific avoiding within our foot work the rugged terrain of the lands as the effortless artistry becomes more into the Atlantic’s hand whirling within the axis of the world like his princess to his lord stopping within the percussion’s last hymn, breathing and exhaling the final twist of turn, but to bow at last and take your limb to kiss the hand of my faith.

 

The dance seems forever like music to my ears, as the last words inflict a sensation to the mind.  A lever would catch my attention at the end of the words in releasing the outcome for all eyes to see the full effect of the dance like poetry with real imagery.  A projection would open from the top of the ceiling and portray a hologram on the wall of their wedding day, in the exact moment to absorb the reality of all those present and the theme to which the poetry could balance into one memorable event, but never dying on the walls of Constance’s chamber in the words left in reliving the moment once more and share the reflections of their lives, which endured their treasure in a capsule of time.

 

In closing the doors of Constance’s room, again the glass would change from clear to dark. Entering the area into the mirror entrance of Kālī, and opening the short-lived life of her realm as the sliding curve mirror doors open automatically to reflect the light into her dark temple striking feelings pull the mood into a different understanding.  Light would be prisms around the other mirrors positioned around the chamber a heartfelt pounding to the mind as statues of angels encircled her tomb.  In the center on a pedestal was a circular dark pearl color sphere and the mysterious secret held within the object.  Light would reflect her name engraved in crystals on the sphere.  Ground glowed like charcoal waiting to die out, but remained constant in view as the sounds of a baby’s cry and laughter blend once more.  Here on the walls would read these words:


Heavens cannot will away the innocent soul of your youth.  Fall is not the maker to grant your faith to this earth.  Soul is given, but would never be abandoning to the gates, which await your acceptance as the angels guide the path to your blessed world.  This place holds your memory and so eternity traded to the price of your precious life.  Previous are just some reminders to comfort a father’s heart as my mind foretells the brief time with such beauty, a beauty of your mother a spectacle of the warmth, which these words that speak not so softly a tone from within the openness of the hardened heart, until the final speech makes peace to the maker of your birth, can my curse hold no more tears against my heart?  Release the thoughts from the mind to clear my focus as one granted death and the other life, two for the price of one.

 

Ending would put to question the reality of another sibling or not?  That in continuing the storyline and answering the questions to thought, but in leaving the gloomy air of Kālī and exiting back to the main corridor with the mystery still of the other child not noted in the writing of such words of his daughter, Kālī, as time continues to tick away the hours of their lives.  Only question and answers evade the mind for now of what lies ahead.  There was a name on the very top of the oak tree with Kāla.  Is she in fact the child in the mosaic and not Kālī, after all?  Why would he chose to leave out her out of the equation lingers in the air.  Unless they were identical twins and representative of one child is actually a symbolic of two.

 

            In time, yes, time is all he had left of them, but such passion to immerse a man giving his life and devotion to family.  A wife cut short and a daughter not given even a chance to life, but such humbleness in looking from above the stain glass dome was even more an elaborate sight as if an aide memoire of them looking down at him.  That of his wife, Constance and daughter, Kālī, guardians of a place, full of life, but none found in view.  There was a single circle of clear glass in the center looking out to the sky above as a gesture he would one day join his family, but also a light passage to bring life to such a place.  Light would also peer from angles around the crown of Constance’s head projecting rays on different parts of the inner structure. 

 

Quintessence of life far went, but a sparkle to the heart on the pristine floor, an end never dies without a beginning each day brings life to this abode.  Walls seem to go on as far as the eyes can see with brilliant white seashells beyond seashells a beauty almost blinding to create colossal imagery and innocence so over powering the senses.  Artistry, precision, and envy brought out of nothing, but a will in his heart and mind within death brings life to such a place.  Agony has a price to pay for the brilliance taken in truer form of an ingenious motif.  That rest in the confines of the structure of an exquisite transformation.

 

Dominance of the spiral staircase and the abundant optical crystals embedded into each step as they protrude individually from the walls.  Circle is leading to the never-ending cycle to the very top of Constance.  Copper railings swirling in pure platinum and atone in gold rope captivating the lifeblood to the meaning of true devotion, embroidery of their names on the rails in platinum being the symbol of Constance and the gold of Prosper though a band of diamonds was in the center of both, a view of a man’s will to call pricelessly.  The rails present a certain vibe in their glow.  A cogency about the blue light within the spectrum of the color trap in the interior.

    

Life of Prosper was not completely alone.  A tragedy seems evident in the end, but in order to understand the full meaning seems to open his whole life, before the fall.  Happy times, the time line, reverse the order, and understand his world, before this event and conclusion of life with his loved ones.  Spiral staircase has exactly ninety-nine steps and the same age of his passing, seemingly as if he knew the time line of his mortal death in the making of such an event to unfold from the mind of his determination into the present.  How did he know the time of his death?  Time is flowing away.  Each step has a story to tell of their world in his memoirs.




© 2014 Glen Yumang Manese



Author's Note

Glen Yumang Manese
Prosper must choose his faith in God and science to bring back memories of the only person he’s ever cherish. Given tools to change time or become a memory himself. What does he elect to do? Time is a constituent breadth. Prosper puts on his eyepiece. Turns the hour glass upside down again and closes his eyes. Where he wants to go is all in his imagination. Only as creative as he would like the experience come to life. Existence does not play into make-believe. How exactly, did he find this ancient device is quite a mystery? Secrecy is not a secret, if anyone else had found out of his whereabouts. Seclusion from the outside world. In the safe haven deeply guarded by his nanotechnology security mechanisms. He’s found the elixir to out-live aging. Effects of cancer and illnesses no longer apply. An immortal living among mortals. Now, a question arises to unfold before him. Does he share his knowledge to better all God's creatures? One hour at a time, the grains of powder pour in the other ampoule. What does he choose to do with deific prodigy? Life is about to awaken him and his family, after a long hiatus.

My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register




Featured Review

Glen, you are really serious in book-writing! I am amazed of how you have written this chapter. It's quite long but you still stay tuned. You are so talented. You made a vivid imagery of the Tower of Constance through narration. Since it is like a legend/myth, it gets attention from the readers. But like my suggestion to other story-writers here, any story would be better when there are dialogues like putting "life" to the character/s. Another is that, you can emphasize the inscriptions by italicizing the paragraphs, so that they are different from the rest.

You write seriously and from the heart. Keep it up, Glen!

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Glen Yumang Manese

3 Years Ago

I believe this was better done with narration just for this chapter...but as the chapters reveal the.. read more



Reviews

I thought this was really good. Hope to read more.

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Glen, you are really serious in book-writing! I am amazed of how you have written this chapter. It's quite long but you still stay tuned. You are so talented. You made a vivid imagery of the Tower of Constance through narration. Since it is like a legend/myth, it gets attention from the readers. But like my suggestion to other story-writers here, any story would be better when there are dialogues like putting "life" to the character/s. Another is that, you can emphasize the inscriptions by italicizing the paragraphs, so that they are different from the rest.

You write seriously and from the heart. Keep it up, Glen!

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Glen Yumang Manese

3 Years Ago

I believe this was better done with narration just for this chapter...but as the chapters reveal the.. read more
Pretty epic word play at use here. Pretty epic indeed, but try not to go walking into too much epic words because the story can get lost behind it all.

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Glen Yumang Manese

3 Years Ago

Thanks for taking interest...I tone this down a bit as the chapters unfold for the reader...I'm just.. read more
Reading this, I can't help but envision a world feeling very much like that of "Myst"; a single man in a deserted world filled with grand architecture, grieving for meaning in solitude. interesting example of indirect story telling by omitting any dialogue, save the thoughts of the man, which even then sometimes blend with the voice of the narrative itself. As sentence structure and syntax goes, it feels determinedly poetic. I feel that this is especially troubling at time, with several sentences running so long they take up 5 or more lines. I shall certainly read more, though. Not so much of a review, as a comment.

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Glen Yumang Manese

3 Years Ago

Thanks for your input...Myst...uhmm...I will have to read more in that...I want the narrative to be .. read more
Softly and slowly unfolds the tragedy, while a mystery still hangs there. This is written very skilfully. The mystery and significance of '99' and the unborn Kali; these are interesting elements used in the plot-building. Only, I felt there was too much of description of the surrounding and felt you could add more characters on the scene. Some conversation maybe. Then, the style used is different and beautiful.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Glen Yumang Manese

4 Years Ago

Rana --- first...thanks for taking the time to read and review...Chapter I...this was done with the .. read more
Rana

4 Years Ago

Hmm, I see.. Like, doing it the way they do it in documentaries.. Show around and then go with the p.. read more
Glen Yumang Manese

4 Years Ago

Yes...I believe you got the drift now...and the story will unfold...you will get to meet the charact.. read more

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

105550 Views
6 Reviews
Added on July 8, 2014
Last Updated on October 26, 2014
Tags: Chapter I: Tower of Constance


Author

Glen Yumang Manese
Glen Yumang Manese

Follow me at Twitter tag: @glenyumangmanes, Tampa/Pittsburgh/Makati, Philippines



About
Me in a nutshell: I am currently, done with my first book of verses: The Onyx - Vena Amoris. Friesen Press finished in December and is out for release before the holidays at the end of the year 20.. more..

Writing