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<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nVernacular is used to reflect the blue people\u2019s language. Those on the earth. Presumably blue. Sing it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI begin with a song, like always.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnother one, Grandfather?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes. And why? The tale. It is better than saying: Once there was\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201c\u2026I agree Grandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLook up, my young Ayon. Look up and see the dark sky. A place a plenty where Grandfather and Grandson lie. Or are awake like you and I? Speaking of things away from here, but also speaking of the stories so nearby. For ahead of us is the great Mon. You asked me where they\u2019ve come upon this night where we tread light and speak. Behind us our home so meek.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs that what it is, Grandfather? What is it? All hollowed out and bare. The Mon does not have any hair.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt is bald my son, his head so wide. We could fit our entire family in and live inside. But your father or your mother would shriek in fear. If the Mon heard music from another time and space. It would beam out as fast with quickening speeds as if in a race. For the Mon only know the sweet sounds that soothe or the rhythm and boost of a melodic tune. But here it is dead as can be, taking up much space in our tiny sea. But we can still see from where we stand. How large and immense it once had a land. Not planet, not sun, kept it alive. But the deepness of Celeste did it reside. Though true that its home was space. Where other Mon lived away from chase.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow do you know so much about them? My Grandfather, my grandfather?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOnce I was young and have seen so many things. Including the Mon in order and pleasance. But then came to them a menacing presence. With cargo en-casements, they came to their clutch. This is what the Mon called their family whom they loved very much. They took them and found ways to bring them in order. And forced them to find pathways and traverse the forbidden border. These devils and demons who called themselves the Vant, made certain to learn what the Mon would want. To be left alone was peace to the Mon and live with their own. But the Vant would not have it and wanted much more. They beat them and tore some in from of their kin. They found ways to hurt them and commit atrocious sins. An error the Vant made was ignoring their power, for though the Mon are gentle and tend to cower. They do have a point where they have great strength and sent the Vant far away from the Lower Cosmos with impossible length. Yet some, Vant still survive, and I am sure found him. And went inside the Mon to secrets within. For upon the entrance so sacred and pure. Anything dark would destroy it for sure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs that why his eyes are no longer there? I can\u2019t see anything, and neither can he. What did they do to him? How can this be?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMust we go closer and tell you more. Because what happened to the Mon never happened before. Someone knows how to fell the behemoth. Who only wants to live with no one beneath it? No person or thing, living or dead. The Mon wants to live alone instead. With only their family near them to behold. That they have no heart is what I am told. But without that, they tend to fear, their love for all things who bring them to tears. But not only that as I have said before. It is music, it is music, and music galore. For a good song, it will take you to the galaxy\u2019s end and if you are nice to it, it will be your friend. To see the rivers of stars from here to there. The Mon will take you on a journey ever far. And brings you back home for the sound of a human guitar. For they will ride the great nebulae far off and distant. Taking you to many places you never dreamed that will make you miss it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLet us go, Grandfather. Let us go with haste.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy young son. My young son. It is no longer there. For what you see before you blocking our view. Is the shell of the Mon that will not renew. However, soon we must leave and run away. Because the other Mon will know and try to find the corpse. And return it to the clutch with great remorse. Though they do not seek vengeance nor plan to attack. We will be here to see their anger because restraint is something they lack. When losing one of their own and they find us. We need to take hiding. We must. We must. Let us warn your mother, our kin. For the Mon will be full of fury, deep within. It will take time for them to heal from this tragic loss and return to deep space at any cost. In mediation and planning they will remember them. Til a time. Til a time. We hope it does not happen again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo. No. My grandfather. I hope not too. It is a terrible thing. And an awful thing to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSome people only want the great Mon for one thing. Not to be a friend. Not to be a good neighbor but to only use them for fun. But there are others like the Vant that may use them for sport. With that my son, off to home, we should go. For when the Mon sets in the sun, it will begin to glow. Signaling its death to any Mon near here. And bring the rest, to a peace so clear. Grab my hand young son and we shall walk home. But know that the Mon are never alone. For we may think we are here for no reason. But for anyone who believes that there is also another. Who knows, it may be that there is one greater. A guardian to the Mon. Maybe to all to grant life favor.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI am now afraid. We will never get home?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo not worry my son, we are never alone. Your father is coming, I can see him far off. No doubt worried we must tell him the tale of how the Mon fought off a Vant to no avail.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow is it Grandfather a creation so big could fall? If at any time. If at all?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAs I said to my son, it has no heart. But its trust in all, it cannot part.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow can it be that that is the case? If that is true, isn\u2019t that a waste?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt depends my son on how you think we are here. Some say it is by accident, others say it is clear. That there is one is much larger than anything ever before. Has opened each and every door. To create and to mold the young and the old. To bring about even the Mon into the fold. Of all life beyond and all life close to us. I think you know we must go home. We must. For though there is no music to be found, when a glowing Mon shines its light, the Mon will come flying with great might. For when they travel to us seems forever, but it is true they barely feel it, almost never. They stretch and they bend, they envelop space and time. Hold on! Hold on! I can hear a chime. A closing rising moan and deep beckoning groan. It is them. It is them. We need to get home. We only have minutes and seconds from now. The Mon will appear. Go on. Go on. Run to your father. Run now. Run quick. For the skies will show the Mon here together, here now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI will. I will. What are you going to do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI am behind you. Now shoo. Now shoo. Go, boy. My son, run. For there will be no fun. If the Mon finds us when we see the sun. Because it will rise at the same time they arrive, and know of our planet. Will we survive? The moaning and announcements are deeper and deeper. The sky will open as they descend. Hurry, my Son. Grab your boy before we see our end.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is with that the old man of Lyhurion turned his head up. One by one the Mon came taking up residence in the sky viewable to every eye. The father grabbed the young boy and called out to his father.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHurry, Father. There is time. Before they come down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI am alright my boy if I don\u2019t make a sound.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Old man stayed motionless until the Mon lowered close to the ground. Near their fallen family. Near what they found. The Mon\u2019s mourning was loud. It was sincere. They absorbed what was left of their kin, until it was gone. The Mon returned to space. Ever leaving Lyhur alone. It was the last time the Old Man heard them moan. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Photo credit: Pexels<\/p>\n\n\n\n “These devils, these demons, who called themselves the Vant…” Vernacular is used to reflect the blue people\u2019s language. Those on the earth. Presumably blue. Sing it. \u201cI begin with a song, like always.\u201d \u201cAnother one, Grandfather?\u201d \u201cYes. And why? The tale. It is better than saying: Once there was\u2026\u201d \u201c\u2026I agree Grandfather.\u201d \u201cLook up, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":290,"featured_media":19284,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"_wpas_customize_per_network":false},"categories":[244,1298],"tags":[1203,1297,1213,1212],"class_list":["post-18459","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-artist-spotlight-2","category-lower-cosmos","tag-forbiddenpanel-2","tag-lowercosmos","tag-sci-fi-2","tag-shortstories"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/forbiddenpanel.com\/PanelCast\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/07\/pexels-photo-6216240-2-edited.jpeg?fit=500%2C827","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1opIU-4NJ","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":18538,"url":"http:\/\/forbiddenpanel.com\/PanelCast\/lower-cosmos-mons-pleading\/","url_meta":{"origin":18459,"position":0},"title":"Lower CoSMOS-Mon’s Pleading","author":"John Hartranett","date":"October 26, 2024","format":false,"excerpt":"\u201cI know little of the earth, Ronnie Talbert. 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Is that how you arrived?\u201d Credit: Kai Stachowiak \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHello!\u201d \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Milmurt said outside of the large round spiral vessel, nestled into the white and gray ground. Yellow perch trees with their jagged leaves waved in a calming wind. 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