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warning ! All of my writing is intended for adult over the age of 18 ONLY. chronicle may hold in substantial or even extreme sexual content. All people and issue depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or utter is purely cooccurring. action mechanism, state of affairs, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not read the dispute between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any nation, state, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please block reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if recognition of right of first publication and statement of restriction of use is included with the article. This story is copyright ( c ) 2012 by The Technician ( Technician666 @ Gmail.Com. )

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It was dark and frigid and rainy and lonely as I drove north on a little used two lane highway that wound its twisted way through the timbered foothills. The reason I was in my car driving 90 naut mi in the middle of an October night was because a man whom I had never met, Doctor Nathaniel L. Sorensen, had summoned me to his death bed.

That may vocalize like an odd way of putting it, but it is exactly what his grandson, Earl, told me when he called me just before ten o'clock tonight. `` W, '' he began, `` I have a very strange favor to ask of you. My grandfather has asked me to foretell you. He says to tell apart you that he is dying tonight and he is summoning you to his death bed because you are the only one who can understand the storey he has to tell. Is there any way you can come up here ? ``

Earl was a rather famous astronomer and professor. Like his grandfather, he spent his nights staring at the empyrean - well, actually, in Earl 's display case, he was usually looking at monitor that gave him a numeric or visual histrionics of what his giant array of radio scope were seeing as they gathered information from the skies. His grandfather, affectionately known by his match as `` Night Sky Nate, '' had actually spent many, many nights staring through the eyepiece of giant telescopes located on distant mountaintops all over the world.

What the elder Dr. Sorensen had to distinguish me, and why he thought I was the lone one who would empathise, was a complete closed book to me. I had never met the man. I had never spoken with him. I had never communicated with him in any way in my entire lifetime. I knew of him only as Earl 's grandfather.

Earl and I had become ally when we met on-line in an electronics treatment forum. We were both occupy in removed electronic control circuits. He was, of path, interested in meliorate ways to keep in line his telescope. I was interested in better ways to see to it ... shall we say, more interest facial expression of human behavior. One of my avocation is several electronic devices that stimulate the body for the design of painful sensation, joy, or control.

One academic term, Earl asked me outright what I actually did with some of the ascendence circuits we discussed. I told him, `` You would be shocked ... pun intended. ``

He answered, `` You would be surprised what it takes to shock me. '' And then added `` ... pun understood. ``

He then asked me to come across him in a common soldier chat room and gave me a tie-in to a way on a different web site - a site that I knew well. The chat elbow room emplacement was on a very private BDSM site that catered to the tastes of those who liked mechanically skillful partial to their slavery and discipline

In answer to my un-asked question, he typed, `` I spend my lifetime looking for patterns in the sky. I recognized the convention of your situation - what abbreviations you use and do n't use, things like that. The same practice shows up on several sites under several unlike login name calling. ``

I made a mental note to myself to reckon into ways of masking that weakness in the future, and met him on the new site. It turned out we had more in usual that just an pastime in control condition circuits. Earl became one of my very discreet customers. He was also a big fan, and sometimes helpful editor, of many of my stories. Evidently he must have said something about me to his grandfather, because now the dying doc was summoning me to his death bed to learn, and perhaps write his story.

What a super-intelligent, apparently straitlaced astronomer who spent most of his life staring at the stars might hold to say that I had n't heard many times before was a mystery to me, but deep in my gut I had a feeling that this closed book was well worth exploring.

When I got to the hospice building next to the hospital, Earl met me at the door. He said flatly, `` Nate says he is going to die tonight. '' Then he shrugged and added, as if in explanation, `` It 's his natal day. The doctors do n't cerebrate so, but his father predicted his own destruction, and so he thinks that he knows when he is going to die also. He says tonight is the night. ``

Since I was entering a hospice expanse, I was expecting to find a very frail and decrepit old man, but when I stepped into to the room, Dr. Sorensen was sitting up in his bed reading an old field of operation diary. `` seminal fluid in W, '' he greeted me. `` You are probably wondering why you are here. ``

'' That is more than an understatement, '' I replied.

He motioned me to a chair that had been placed at his bedside, closed the notebook, and folded his hired hand over the masking as it lay on his lap. `` Let 's begin at the outset, shall we. ''

He looked and sounded just like a college professor about to start a lecture. I should n't have been surprised at that. He had, at one time, been a very striking professor as well as a renowned astronomer.

'' Actually, let 's start up before the beginning, '' he corrected himself. `` My father was born on April 20, 1909. In case the significance of that date escapes you, that was the day that Haley 's Comet passed nigh to the solid ground. He died on February 9, 1986, again as Haley passed near to the earthly concern. He always said that he was going to survey Mark Twain 's illustration and 'come in with the comet and go out with the comet .'He did. ``

I must ingest looked somewhat baffled, because he looked up at me and added, `` It 's all share of the story. Be patient. I 'm getting to it ... I 'm getting to it. ``

He smiled, took a deep breathing place, and started anew. `` I was born on October 21, 1930. The import of that date, of which I am trusted you are incognizant, is that ... ''

I interrupted him and finished his sentence with `` it is the visor of the Orionid meteor showers. ``

It was his turn to look storm. `` A student of the stars, are we ? ``

'' No, '' I answered, `` but Earl is never useable from Oct 19 through 23 because grub of old comet are falling out of the sky. ``

'' All comets are old, '' instructed the trade good Doctor, `` they are the left-over debris from creation. And the chucks do n't return out of the sky, the earth merely passes through the comet 's lead of debris. The particular proposition comet that causes the Orionids is none former than my Church Father 's old friend, Haley, itself. '' He laughed as he added, `` That means that I am a potato chip off my Church Father 's comet. ``

His laugh soon dissolved into a coughing fit. When it subsided he continued, `` I came in with the cow dung and I am planning to go out with the chip. The cancer MD say I have another few calendar week or even months, but tonight is as good a nighttime to die as any other, and I might as well continue up the family line tradition - - - but commencement I have to recite you my level. ``

He paused. But this clip he did n't laugh ..., and he did n't cough. Instead he went very quiet with his eyes taking on a very, very far away look. I had seen that looking before - usually in combat veterans. Psychiatrists call it `` the yard international mile stare. '' Whatever computer storage was flashing through his mind was very powerful and highly traumatic. It was very quite in that elbow room as we all waited for him to give way the silence.

After a few import, he sighed, took a deep breathing place, and continued, `` I need to tell you some affair about the arrows from Orion 's bow that I have never written down for anyone except myself ... '' He held up the notebook computer. `` ... and I have never shown anyone this field daybook - not even Earl. No one would hold believed me, and if I had ever published any of this, I would have been laughed out of academia. ``

'' Earl has shown me some of the things that you write. '' He looked at me over the top of his glasses. His eye were now a very bright blue. `` I think you will interpret ... and I am sure that you can recount my story to the world. I no longer care what my fellow prof think of me. They can put it down to death-bed lunacy ... .. but it is the truth ... .. the absolute, god-awful, source-of-myth-and-mysteries truth. ``

He paused to open the field journal that was again resting beneath his handwriting. `` W, I want you to accept this when we are through here. Everything is written down in it ... even the original Gaelic. Maybe you can pass it on to person who might be around in 2025, or even 2063. ``

He again looked at me over the top of his glasses and raised his eyebrows as if to ask if I was ready. I nodded and he began, `` On my nineteenth natal day, October 21, 1949, I was stationed overseas with the navy as - what else - a weatherman. My interest was astronomy, not meteorology, but the Navy had enough navigators and as the recruiter told me, 'Stars do n't affect ships at sea, tempest do .'They wanted violent storm witness, not star gazers and my enlistment option boiled down to being a weatherman or a ship 's James Cook. ``

He gave me a very wry smile. `` I have always been a dreaded Cook, but I can scan a thermometer with the best of them. A snag in the Navy would pay for college, and besides, it was right after the war and the selective service was still in post. They had n't drafted anybody since '47, but I figured it was better to eat Navy chow for a few class than risk being drafted into an infantry squad if affair heated up with the Russians or someone else. ``

'' In any case, everything worked out pretty well. I ended up with a cushy post on a hillside in Ireland near Birr Castle. The Earl 's peachy lookout had been dismantled during 'The Great War ,'but it was still a place fertile in history for someone like me who was occupy in the asterisk. ``

He looked down a bit sheepishly. `` I 've never told Earl where his public figure came from. I wanted him to be named after the man who designed and built the great whirring rook scope and first saw proof of whorl beetleweed. But I could n't remember the proper name of the third Earl of Rosse. So, when my daughter was considering what to advert her first of all son, I suggested 'Earl .'''

He looked up at the cap as though he was watching the distant beetleweed in his mind. Then he shook his head as if to acquit his idea and bring himself back to the present. `` Anyway, there I was smack dab in the middle of the Emerald isle with not a whole lot to do except take temperature and barometric readings a match of prison term a day - and there were four of us stationed there to do that. I made a lot of inadequate day stumble around acres to kill time and watch more about the Celts. ``

'' In a little, topical anaesthetic museum in a nearby townsfolk, I came upon some Gaelic manuscripts that the proprietor said talked about the Orionid meteor cascade, or as the Celts called them, 'The Arrows of Hunter .'I took it into my school principal to translate those text file and spent most of a month 's pay to buy high quality copies of the original. ``

'' Erse is a beastly speech communication with too many varsity letter and not enough words to really make sense in English, but I did my right with a lot of supporter from a couple of topical anesthetic Irish learner. What intrigued me most was a warning I found buried in the text that said not to go walking on the fen during the meteoroid cascade because 'when an arrow from Orion 's bow falls to the ground at mid-darkness on 'Dark Night'the doorway of the King shaper will open up .'''

'' At least, that 's what I thought it said. A local anaesthetic scholar, who had been teaching me Gaelic, told me that 'King Makers'should be 'Queen manufacturer'because the Celts did n't make Kings. They had fairy - Queens known for their mantrap and their daring and their physical ability. Brave generals who had won neat struggle would be rewarded with a night or two in bed with the Queen. That not only served to provide motivator to the superior general, it also provided brave education blood for time to come faggot to rule over the Celtic clan. ``

'' This same scholar assured me that 'Dark Nox'was a reference to Shavnah. If you transliterate the tidings from Goidelic into English letters, you end up with Samhain, but he was adamant it was pronounced, 'Shavnah .'He was especially adamant that Gerald Samuel Rawson Gardiner had gotten it wrong when he pronounced it 'Soween .'''

'' Shavnah is the original basis for what eventually became Halloween. It is the night of the world-class darkness of the Sun Myung Moon following the Autumnal Equinox. My tutor noted that the Romans took the holiday back with them after they ALMOST capture Ireland around 45 CE. They moved it to Nov 1, and the night before became known as 'All Hallows Eve ,'or 'Halloween .'In today 's calendar, Shavnah is somewhere in the first 21 mean solar day of October, not on October 31. ``

Dr. Sorensen paused to let all that information sink into my very confused skull. `` In 1949, my birthday ..., and the peak of the Orionid meteoroid showers, fell on Shavnah, as it did in 1968 and 1979, and will again in 2025 and 2063. '' He gave me a very cryptic grin and went on, `` I was back on those hillsides in '68 and '79, but I will have to lose 2025. ''

Another shake of the capitulum brought him back to his story. `` In '49 it was a very clear, very dingy night, and the meteor display was phenomenal. Looking up at whiz that you would never see in the light defilement that exists today, I could clearly see the full outline of the mighty Hunter and watch as arrow after pointer seemed to leave his bow and flash lamp across the night sky. Then one of the 'arrows'fell to earth not more than a few yards from where I was standing. I 'm indisputable that it was nothing more than a speck of rubble or a very humble pebble by the fourth dimension it hit the ground, but that close, the fanfare was nearly blinding. ``

'' As my eyes began to readjust to the darkness, I thought at first that the flash had damaged my retinas. I was sure that something was wrong with my visual sense because I could not believe what my oculus showed me. Standing there before me was the most beautiful adult female I had ever seen. She was tall, with a torso any Olympic jock would die for. Her deep-copper-colored hair wound around her organic structure nearly to her feet. Her nipples were bright pink, and stood stiff and upright in the cold, night air. The pilus between her pegleg was a brighter shade of copper-orange and curled tightly against her crack. ``

'' I shook my head as if to elucidate an odd delusion, but the nude woman remained standing before me and began to set about me. As she walked slowly toward me, she said softy, 'There is not much metre. The threshold remains open only for a short piece. We must realise a female monarch before the energy dissipates .'At least, that 's what I think she said. She was speaking a very foreign form of Goidelic, and I had enough fuss trying to realize the local version. ``

'' She pulled me into her implements of war and began tugging at my clothing. Soon we were both lying naked on the squashy dirt of the Irish people fen. Our dear making was frantic, she, from a need only she could understand, and I from my lustfulness for her nearly consummate body. In just moments we were lying still, entangled, breathless, sweaty, and spent. ``

'' 'We have made a Queen ,'she said to me. 'Now we can drive our time and truly enjoy each other. You may squall me Eve .'I did n't hear until later that Eve was spelled A-o-i-f-e ''

'' We made love all night. I was 19, and that was possible for me then. In the dayspring, we returned to my apartment together. I was shirtless, she was wearing nothing but my shirt and coat. It was scandalously little for that day, but would not even be noticed today. I was n't sure how I was going to explain her to my roomie, let alone to Mrs. O'Malley. ''

'' Mrs. O'Malley, our landlord, was an extremely fastidious, short old Irish lady who 'did n't put up with any shenanigans in her position .'She was sitting on the presence porch as we came walking up the path. ``

'' I was still trying to fancy out what to say when Eve spoke to her in Gaelic. Mrs. O'Malley 's eyes went full and she crossed herself rapidly various times. 'Of form, deary ,'she answered .'I will put you up in the spare way until we can make the arrangements for the wedding .'''

'' As Eve walked up the steps and went into the house, Mrs. O'Malley pulled me divagation and said to me in her heavily lilted English, 'So, Nate, me boy, you just had to go wandering on the fen on Dark Night when the arrows were shooting, did ye ? Well, the door opened for ye, and you were chosen. Now you 've gotten yourself a poove Godhead for a wife. Aoife tells me that the female monarch has been made, but understand this : You be thoroughly to her, and the leprechauns will envy your fortune. You treat her wrongly, and you will begrudge those in the deep pit of hell .'''

'' I was deeply in lust, if not love for Eve. Mrs. O'Malley 's words overcame any hesitancy on my piece, and I answered her ,'I love Eve. Of course I will marry her, and I would never treat her wrong .'''

'' Mrs. O'Malley answered, 'Aye, you will marry Eve. She will wait for you and you will wait for her. That is foretold in the stars and written in the Harlan Fisk Stone. But I was speaking about the female monarch. You love her and resurrect her right or my emotional state will trail you down when I 've gone beneath the sod ..., and you will see a position of me that no one above the K has ever seen .'''

'' I married Eve about six weeks later. A very aged priest conducted the ceremony far out in the countryside in a very old church that seemed to be almost in dilapidation. I expected something close to the church 's measure wedding ceremony, but instead of the habitue book, he used a very, very old leather bound volume that appeared to be written totally in ancient Gaelic with elaborate calligraphy on every Thomas Nelson Page. He spoke most of the service in that same, unknown form of Gaelic that Eve had spoken and I had trouble following a lot of it. When we got to the vows, he repeated each statement in English for my benefit. ``

'' 'Eve ,'he said, 'you have come through the door and select this mortal man. Will you love him in the time you have together and waitress for him until the pointer call him domicile ?'''

'' She answered, 'Aye .'''

'' 'Nathaniel ,'he said to me, 'you have been chosen. Do you assume your chosenness ? Do you promise to carry the king to her pot and making love and protect her for as long as you live ? And do you assure to wait for Eve until the dark on which the arrows call you back so that you may be together forever ?'''

'' I answered, 'Yes, I do ,'but I really had no musical theme what in the hell he was talking about. None of it made mother wit. I just assumed that they used some strange, antediluvian spousal relationship ritual in that orbit. ``

'' I found out what it all meant the following July, when Earl 's mother was born. '' Dr. Soren Peter Lauritz Sorensen 's eye clouded as he continued. `` Roisin was to be our only child. Eve died in childbirth. Or at least that 's what the doctors said. Eve had told me a few mean solar day before, with bout in her heart, that after the child was born, she would have to be going home, but she would wait for me there as she had promised. Her grave accent is on that hillside where I first met her. By her postulation, it is marked only by the shamrocks and wild flower of the heath. ``

His voice was thick as he continued, `` I raised Rose on my own - not easy for a man going through eight or so eld of college to get a doctorate. She had a fiery spirit that matched the color of her hair, and in another age, in another seat, could very well have become a on-key Queen. ``

'' Instead, I made sure that she was properly educated at the in force colleges and universities in the earthly concern. She lives out eastern United States and is now the headland of one of the top lot 500 companies. The chair in her power is a design based on the commode of the Celtic pouf, Medb, a mythological warrior queer of ancient Ireland. A portrait of Medb in full battle armor hangs behind her desk. I do n't experience where she got that painting, but the artist painted Medb to look very much like Eve. ``

Another looking at at me over his glasses, `` It would appear that the CEO 's of our prominent society are the Billie Jean King and Queens of today and rose wine has fulfilled her destiny in today 's world. ``

Then he slumped slightly forward. It was as if he had expended the last of his energy telling me of the queen Makers and the queen he helped to bring into our macrocosm. He said softly to no one, `` Our small Rose has become a world-beater. ``

We could almost see the life flowing out of him. With great campaign he raised his point. `` Tell my narration, W. Tell it so masses will think. recite it so someday on an Irish whiskey fen, another Queen Maker can step into our world and a proper man will be waiting. Maybe she can stay longer for him than Eve did for me. Tell my story. Tell the story of Aoife, the Queen Lord and Queen pink wine whom she brought into this world. ``

With that his head lolled fully forward. Almost coincident with his terminal words, the elbow room was filled with a flash lamp of light accompanied by a loudly kick just outside the window. A nurse came rushing into the way, `` Is everyone all right ? '' she asked. `` You wo n't believe what just happened. A little shooting star hit the ground right next to the edifice. I was afraid it might have broken the window, it was so close. ``

'' Everything 's fine, '' I answered. All eyes followed mine as I looked back at the bed, `` That was just the door opening so Dr. Sorensen could go back to a hillside on the heath to be with his beloved Eve. ``

We all stood around in the elbow room silently as Earl softly said his final goodbyes to his granddad. Most of what he said was too quiet for me to learn, but at one dot I could clearly him say, `` I should stimulate believed you, granddad. We could have gathered the entirely fellowship to be here tonight instead of just me. But I guess you wanted it this way. I hope you told W everything you wanted him to say. ``

When he was finished and we were all starting to go out the door, I paused and turned back to the bed. I addressed the organic structure lying in the bed, but I was actually speaking to a spirit that was probably now walking the heath in Eire with the woman he had loved - and waited for - his entire life. `` Do n't vex Nate, '' I told him, `` I will tell the world the story of Aoife, the Queen Maker. And if I am still above the sod, I will be on the fen that surrounds Birr Castle on Dark Night in 2025. I know that I will be too old to be chosen - if I had ever been desirable of that - but maybe, just maybe, the threshold will unfold near me, and you and Eve can tell me more of the story of the Queen-makers. ``

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