LOBA

For almost two years, the corpse of the crow remained on the forest floor,

its flesh, purged of its purpose to defend the bird’s innards from the perils of

the outside world, whether it be illness or other beasts or otherwise,

started to dissolve away from the crow, exposing his bone-white rib cage,

the osseous edges of his round eye sockets, and the skull before his black beak.

The skeleton of the crow eventually became what remained of the bird who

ingested the head of Mimidae, which was now liberated from the dark

passageway that was the crow’s throat, but now was also now just a bony skull

with moist, glossy plumage — a feature that was also being shared with the bones

of the crow who, in his last act in life, had ingested the hummingbird’s head

in a pitiful attempt to gain more gumption and rationale to improve his deceits.

The great mother goddess Ürt was pulled by her wheeled horses towards the

warm, bright realm of all-seeing Sån, hot daughter of Faír, and back towards

the dark domain of Mun the foot-born, from the fair noblewoman Chôstes,

with the rosy-fingered dawn flying before Mother Earth in between, several times,

when, as raging waters obstructed by a barrier of boulders of enormous proportion

in the course of time burst out of small slivers between the stones prior to

liberating itself in a robust, aggressive flood crashing to the ground, consuming

all in its path, so did the foul stenches from the crow’s corpse liberated themselves

in a robust, aggressive flood flying through the air.

The fetor flying through the air attracted many flies, their minuscule transparent pairs

of wings grinding against one another—that is, the respective pairs of minuscule transparent wings found on each individual fly, not all the insects miraculously rubbing one of

their own wing sets against those of another fly—producing the sound of a

chainsaw’s mechanics functioning, if only in a higher pitch.

The flies appeared as tiny black dots that speedily appeared at the scene

and vanished from view with the haste at which they originally appeared,

consuming as much of the dwindling nutrients from the corpse of the crow

as their microscopic mouths could consume.

With many days and nights, the final remains of the crow, now just

a few small piles of squalid feathers, glossy and disheveled, dissolved

into nothing, leaving no trace of the existence of a crow who had

consumed the hummingbird’s head in an attempt to be more adroit.

Meanwhile, in a different part of the forest, occurring at the same time,

pristine Pîur, fair daughter of Uáter and Uáter alone, born of no one else,

traveled down all the way from the peaks of mighty Jóli, through the

vast firmament that was the all-encompassing Scaîfadér, made equal

to mother Ürt and whose severed penises serve as the pillars of the world

as a result of his intense lust for the earth mother, as foretold way back

in the first book of the series.

Clean Pîur went to the forest to hopefully try to remove an in-grown nail

from her big toe. Lifting her leg up and placing her foot on a nearby

rock, the goddess of purity, as if you were somehow unable to decipher

that from her name, retrieved from the space of hammers her pair of

nail clippers to alleviate the swollen dactyl of her foot.

Not too far from where the goddess was trying to remove her in-grown nail,

Loba, from the local village, was collecting some plants for her home while

her husband was out hunting food and game for the village. Loba had a

loving husband with whom she bred some small children. She enjoyed

engaging in informal small talk with her tall, female friends, the other

wives of the village who preoccupy their time with sustaining the needs

of the men, their husbands and brothers and sons, who are so needed for

sustaining life in the village by hunting animals for food and armaments.

The sight of a dark emerald plant, distinguishing itself amongst the verdigris

grass on the forest floor, caught the eyes and consideration of Loba. The villager

developed a thought in her head almost immediately, as if a blinding strike

from the whip-like tail of terrible Tõndurǔr, the evil storm beast birthed by Èr,

reached the ground and completely annihilated a tree in a fiery explosion.

The thought from Loba also caused allurement to run through the dark maidens,

the trio of sisters the Feìts — clay-holding Ïestùr, life-writing Nao, and and clay-

solidifying Cómin — rulers of all lives, human, god, plant, animal, soft drink.

The thought that bolted into the mind of Loba, the thought that produced feelings

of enticement towards the sinister Feìts was this: The noticeable plant growing

from the emerald grass-coated surface of the forest, from the mother Ürt, appears

to be very easy to pull up and remove for Loba to collect for her village.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength amounted to nothing; the vegetation remained confined in the ground.

Loba was loaded with determination to retrieve this growth, so she decided to try again.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength amounted to nothing; the vegetation remained confined in the ground.

Loba was loaded with determination to retrieve this growth, so she decided to try again.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength amounted to nothing; the vegetation remained confined in the ground.

Loba was loaded with determination to retrieve this growth, so she decided to try again.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength amounted to nothing; the vegetation remained confined in the ground.

Loba was loaded with determination to retrieve this growth, so she decided to try again.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength amounted to nothing; the vegetation remained confined in the ground.

Loba was loaded with determination to retrieve this growth, so she decided to try again.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength amounted to nothing; the vegetation remained confined in the ground.

Loba was loaded with determination to retrieve this growth, so she decided to try again.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength amounted to nothing; the vegetation remained confined in the ground.

Loba was loaded with determination to retrieve this growth, so she decided to try again.

Bringing her body earthward by bending her knees all the way, both of her hands

grasped firmly the bottom of the plant, where the root of it was breaking free

from the grassy surface, and, using all her strength and might, attempted to pull

back upward, struggling to loose the plant from the surface of the forest floor.

All her strength, finally, freed the plant from the field of emerald blades.

However, doing so caused dark-haired Loba to fall onto the forest ground’s surface

intensely. While struggling to pick both the plant and herself back up again, her

eyes fell upon, for a moment lasting the length of time it would take for a bluejay

to flutter both its azure wings a single time while taking a mighty glide through

the great blue sky, the unadulterated daughter of Uáter reaching the apex of the

process of removing the curved portion of her toenail growing against her inner

muscular tissue and nervous system.

The goddess had finally removed the offending portion of the epidermal plate

upon her lower digit, giving a sigh of relief upon doing so, and tossed the curved

portion of the plate aside, now forever to be lost and forgotten somewhere in the

wood, when her holy gaze suddenly encountered that of Loba’s.

The maiden of the village quickly turned away from wholesome Pîur, but the time

for forgiveness and mercy had already decamped. Wrath had engulfed the heart

and the mind of the goddess of purity, with fear swallowing the thoughts of Loba

in a similar manner. The winds had blown all around the daughter of Uáter,

convulsing the lengthy branches of the trees, swaying the small shrubberies.

Pure Pîur, her once friendly eyes now radiating with terrible bright illumination,

stared down dark-haired Loba and picked up a small handful of blades of grass

from the forest floor, her glowing gaze never once moving away from the fearful

face of Loba, who fell upon the ground while retrieving a plant for her village.

“INSOLENT FOOL!” the cleanliness goddess vociferated, her single voice sounding

like hordes of people were yelling her words in a thunderous manner simultaneously,

“YOU DARE DISTURB ME, VIOLATE MY PRIVACY, AS I CARE TO PRIVATE MATTERS?”

Weak little Loba opened her mouth by a small fraction, hoping to explain what had

just occurred and that it wasn’t her place to impeded on a Jólian goddess attending

to her own matters, but untouched Pîur, clouded by rage, interrupted the village

local before she could get a word in edgewise, continuing, “NOW YOU WILL SPEND

YOUR REMAINING DAYS AS A FILTHY, NOMADIC CREATURE OF THE NIGHT

FOR WALKING IN AS I TRY TO REMOVE AN IN-GROWN TOENAIL!”

With this, Pîur threw the blades of grass in her hand with all her might, and they

landed on dark-haired Loba, cursing her with horrific alterations.

In the following days since this incident with fair Pîur, Loba had become destitute.

Her husband and children shunned her. She was exiled from her village and forced

to live in squalor in the desert. Loba, as punishment for disturbing the Jólian goddess

of cleanliness, was forced to attempt to make ends meet by looking around for men

with whom she could sleep for the night in exchange for some financial compensation.

There wasn’t a king or chief around who wanted Loba for the night in all of the yellow

desert, so she had to settle for some men of a lesser economic background. 

The mornings

after she made herself a man’s, the male would only pay a small amount of money for the

deed, leaving lacking Loba only just a minute fraction less insolvent than before.

The great mother goddess Ürt was pulled by her wheeled horses towards the

warm, bright realm of all-seeing Sån, hot daughter of Faír, and back towards

the dark domain of Mun the foot-born, from the fair noblewoman Chôstes,

with the rosy-fingered dawn flying before Mother Earth in between, several times,

and Loba, once an attractive young woman from the village of the forest, developed

considerable physical alterations upon all her body.

Her long black hair, once straight, now became disheveled, always looking as if

she had just awoken from her nice bed, although she now slept of the desert sands.

Where eyebrows of average size once lay now expanded beyond their original width,

with many extra hairs now protruding their borders, and the two almost connecting

with one another by means of an extra spot of bushy hair.

Hints of facial hair and stubble started to develop upon her countenance. Her clean

armpits now had thick blackness coming out of them, as well as out of her ears.

An overgrowth of bodily hair completely enveloped her pad melons and her clam.

Strands of black hair had grown all over her once bare body - her limbs, her chest,

her stomach. Where pearl white teeth once resided now were bony structures in

her jaws colored likewise to the pedal of a sunflower.

Pus-infused boils and bleached blue bruises were sprinkled all around her flesh,

with many boils congregating around both her sets of lips and her ring cavity.

Loba’s previously white eyes were now clouded in blush, with jagged crimson

vessels crawling along all sides of her viewing orbs.

Loba was now also giving off a repugnant aroma from all areas of her bosom.

The fetor flying through the air attracted many flies, their minuscule transparent pairs

of wings grinding against one another—that is, the respective pairs of minuscule transparent wings found on each individual fly, not all the insects miraculously rubbing one of

their own wing sets against those of another fly—producing the sound of a

chainsaw’s mechanics functioning, if only in a higher pitch.

The flies appeared as tiny black dots that speedily appeared at the scene

and vanished from view with the haste at which they originally appeared.

Only men slightly better than her, economically, would only lay with her for the night,

and even then, the men were extremely desperate to cure their libido and would

do whatever would be needed to alleviate their intense lust.

These were the new days and nights that befell and awaited Loba, being cursed

by the pure, clean Pîur after disturbing the goddess while she was removing an

in-grown toenail from the side of her holy digit.

However, there was an additional piece of the goddess’ curse on Loba, apart from

the now foul woman’s poverty. From since the goddess exercised her authority to

defend herself against the village woman who briefly bothered her to the present,

destitute unhygienic Loba would spend most of her nights as an escort for men

who rectify their lack of riches with their intense need for coitus.

But there are a fair amount of nights when sleeping with a man is impossible.

On such nights, it’s when the sky above appears engulfed by black Naít,

daughter of rayless Dãrc, regardless of whether the soft, cotton clouds,

born out of the Theorgy, as referenced in Book I (I think), are totally

covering the sky, just mere wisps of chalk dust above, or completely absent,

when foot-born Mun can be seen in all his glory, as a large pale white orb.

Whenever the complete Mun can be seen up above to men, illuminating the

dark night, Loba’s body begins to be altered, changing to a form different

from her human appearance. Every single yellow tooth in her mouth elongates,

creating sharp incisors. The plates on her fingers and toes, both totaling to

a single score thicken and turn more knifelike. Her head and limbs achingly

and sluggishly stretch and swell these fearful modifications.

New bones sprout within her lower backside, stretching her muscles tissue

and flesh to form a pointed, meaty tail. Her nose and mouth expand from the

physical limits of her face. Loba screams and cries out in severe discomfort,

but the voice turns not into her own. Instead, she is only able to roar and snarl

in a grave, monstrous voice, a fierce bellow that would cause terrible twins

Fìr and Tred, daughters of dark Dãrc, the son of the great, board Ürt, to fondle

the hearts and minds of even the most gallant of the most militant warriors.

Loba’s many body hairs protract in equal rate as fresh hairs protrude from

her drawn-out skin, as if they were in a competition to envelope any bare

spots on her before time ran out. Loba’s ears also shifted from the sides of

her head to the top sides of her head, growing more triangular.

On these nights where Mun is in full attendance when all-giving Ürt is being

pulled by her wheeled horses through the obsidian realm under the control

of the foot-born, this egregious, terrible transformation, as punishment for

bothering the clean goddess, the daughter born of Faír and only him alone,

when she wished not to be disturbed, would befall destitute Loba.

In her act of pestering unadulterated Pîur, black-haired Loba also ended up

being the progenitor of one of the most formidable and abhorrent monsters

known to all man. The species born of the accursed Loba are now known by

humans’ tongues as Jîumån-Úolbs; Loba is now known by man as the first-

ever created Jîumån-Úolf brought onto the earth, made to torment men.

FAÏRI

Meanwhile, in a different part of the forest, occurring at the same time,

Ãrt, one of the beautiful Tots, she who blesses us peons with her gorgeous

artwork ever since her birth, equal to intelligence to her mother, cerebral Úit,

a Tot without whom we never would have great sculptures of the ones on Jóli,

never have beautiful frescoes portraying the majesty of the gods and all that

the ones above create, and never have any printers that function properly,

had set her eyes upon the cocksure young maiden Faïri.

The woman would refuse to yield the praise she received from her painting skills

to one of the primordial Tots, the ornamental goddess. It was as if no equivalent

to Mèsenchér birthed not during the Theorgy but instead in the deathly realm of

Onsîn was unable to alleviate the curse, self-inflicted, that was Faïri’s pride.

All in the wood knew that her parents were dead, as her mother, Gũtenbürg,

a woman of the lower class who was recognized secondarily as an exquisite

painter of frescoes depicting scenes of nature’s natural splendor, was more

generally notable for being incredibly lax and of extremely easy virtue.

Lebïdo, son of Ěnguer, not only caused a spark of lust to go through Gũtenbürg,

but a massive conflagration, a wildfire of desire roaring through her body and

spirit, ever since she came of age. She would sleep with many men on many

nights, practically the pace at which broad Ürt would, by her wheel-hoofed

horses, be pulled to the dun realm of foot-born Mun and back to the luminous

area of Sån, the terrible and mighty sun, daughter of Faír, who sees everything,

flying between the realms in the rose-fingered dawn.

The result of one of these coital occurrences turned out to be the birth of Faïri,

who would not only be come to but ultimately surpass her mother when it came

to the skills of fresco painting, as given to both of them by the ornamental Tot, Ãrt.

The man who would be the father of Faïri, out of the many who laid with Gũtenbürg

remains a mystery to men on earth, as, during her many loose engagements, the

mother of Faïri eventually contracted the pox, with all the men with whom she

laid also catching the fatal disease. Mysteriously, Faïri, talented in the art of

fresco painting but never giving thanks to the Tot of the arts for her gifts, had

never once contracted the pox, not even at birth.

Not a single person in the village knew why this was so. It seemed very likely that

the dreadful Feîts had a different story planned for Faïri, daughter of wanton Gũtenbürg.

In polar opposite of her deceased mother, Faïri was known only for her sensational skills

in producing fresco paintings that sang praises to the Jólians above, that told tales of

heroes from centuries past, that depicted the gorgeous fauna found on mother Ürt.

Many visitors - fellow villagers, people who lived elsewhere in the forest, those who

resided in the desert far away, and even varying nymphs - arrived to witness her hand.

Women went from wild Åridd to the wide woods to witness the work of Faïri.

Men abandoned alpine Rôqui, and their families and friends, to observe her art pieces.

Numerous nymphs, enticed by wishing to witness the woman’s nimbleness, exited

arborous Máshong, or even departed the tropical paradise of Kaläsaa, wrapped in

many streaming rivers, to admire her frescoes and to see her production process.

So agile was her hand, controlling the pigments, selected from the dear broad Mother

and mixed with water, falling upon the moist, virgin plaster surface, the average viewer,

having no idea about her pride, her lack of gratitude for the daughter of Úit blessing her

and all of us with the Tot’s mighty skills, would think that Ãrt had instructed Faïri in

true frescoes. She instead would only deny it, thinking that her talents came from her

mother and herself, chagrined to share her fame with the gods, saying this about Ãrt:

“Let that cunt contend in fresco-making with me; and if she proves to be more skillful

that I, then shall I forfeit and renounce my decorative capacity!”

This Ãrt heard, and arrived to Faïri’s neck of the woods, camouflaged in thinning gray

hair and wrinkly, spotty flesh, and carrying a staff to help support her aged limbs.

She developed a raspy voice, what was raspy and faltered when she spoke,

“Old age is not the root of all evil, lengthy lives bring experience and knowledge,

so you must not disregard my speech: There is nothing wrong with gaining praise

from your fellow humans, when your lively, dexterous hands stroke the mashed

earth pigments against the moist plaster. Even so, you should not deny the blessings

from Ãrt, and you should pray to her for her forgiveness, as she shall offer forgiveness

to you, should you ask her.”

Faïri, scowling at the goddess wearing a disgusted countenance - that is on Faïri’s face,

not that of Ãrt - and replied to the daughter of Úit, barely controlling the anger in her

tone of voice, “Silly old hag, used up and worthless in your arthritic age! Advanced age

is not a blessing, but a bane, most especially for you! If the gods have indeed blessed you

with a daughter and a husband for her, then let them reap your words’ rewards. Within

my mind and soul, I believe firmly in my beliefs, and you don’t have to believe that your

beliefs are beneficial to you, for I am rigid and stone-like in my beliefs.”

You, dear Ãrt, retained then, and still do today, all the knowledge of everything you learned

in your immortal life, even when in your elderly disguise, yet after listening to Faïri’s response,

your understanding of her mixed up verbiage was as though you were actually geriatric.

Irked at the goddess’ confusion at her spiel, Faïri responded, “Get ye gone, harlot! Unless you

actually wish to prove your claims correct by engaging in a contest with me, to see which of

the two of us is able to produce the most pulchritudinous portrait for a true fresco wall.”

The daugher of Úit, made by herself unrecognizable to Faïri and any passersby, accepted the

latter’s offer. The mortal woman also tossed her hat into the ring, sending her down a doomed

path towards her own destruction.

And, at once, did both choose their positions, close to one another in the forest, creating their

colorful pigments from the stones and dirt produced from the dark mother, from the crushed

ivory bones, drooly saliva, and discharged crimson blood from many nearby animals who were

unfortunate to cross the painters’ path, and mixing these materials from the blue, clear fluids

featured in neighboring lakes.

The two of them then used more of the earth’s natural dirt and sand and mixed them together

with the lakes’ liquids, rubbing their fingers through the substance, stretching it out with their

palms to smooth and extend the plaster into a large flat surface best suitable for frescoes.

Beloved Ãrt was forced to take her time in this process, compared to youth-bodied Faïri,

resulting from her elderly veneer featuring wrinkled skin and a weaker body. Upon the

completion of the formation of the plaster, the twain females, with great speed to paint

the wet surface of the virgin plaster before it dried totally, spread their pigments.

Hastily moving their arms, using reeds to blow out powders, and ordering some extra brushes

off of Amazon whenever they needed new ones, the two painted the plaster, with pitch black

charcoal interlacing with crushed beige stone, liquefied gray pebbles mixing with moist minerals,

and smashed blades of grass and discarded leaves from trees forming colors as emerald as their

original vegetation source.

As the flint blades pierce the air with their fierce sharpness but not so much with their handles,

so were the varied pigments, each from a differing source and blended with one another, mingled in millions of shades and hues to create gorgeous colors, each contrasting with one another,

portrayed, in those lovely, vivid paints, stories from the ancient days, long ago:

Ãrt recreated her triumph of the valley of Sítadêl, following the contention of the name

it should receive. All the Jólian gods were present at the scene, residing on elevated thrones,

and all their bodily features were illustrated so exquisitely and colorfully that each one could

be identified individually. Sån sat on her throne, appearing as a high queen of those gods.

In the valley, Ãrt was seen competing with her sister Pôetrï about what kind of store

to develop in the valley. Pôetrï, presenting her case to the gods judging the contest

between the two Tots, magically split the earth open, bringing through it the kind of

good-selling establishment she wished to place in the valley: a Cybernetik Electronics

store, selling technological pieces, including phone chargers, TV remotes, and toy RCs.

Lovely Ãrt produced with her godly gifts her thoughts for her kind of stores.

She wanted to place not an electronics store, but a fast food joint, known to

the tongues of men, women, children, plants, animals, clouds, rocks, mountains,

bacteria, plastics, and other varying material as Burger Queen.

Her Burger Queens, should the gods allow them to be sanctioned, would produce

hastily comfort food and drinks for people to consume - thick, juicy cheeseburgers

coated with aurelian cheese slices deliquesced all over the surface of the meat;

cold, refreshing juice made from pulverized fruits and berries and imported

high-quality beverage temperature devices; frosty ice cream shakes flavored to

vanilla or cocoa beans that would be incredibly refreshing on a steaming summer day.

The cuisine of Burger Queen, made extremely cheap and on the fly without putting

a person or their family into total financial ruin, would be as healthful to consume as

a whole lengthy tree branch sprouting holly berries and leaves, coated in a lethal neurotoxin.

The Jólian gods had to consider all the information with which they were presented by

the daughters of Mêmorí to reach a decision as to what to place in the valley of Sítadêl.

Pôetrï’s idea for a Cybernetik Electronics store seemed it could be profitable in the long

run, selling necessary parts for devices and radios. Ãrt’s plans for a Burger Queen appeared

to be resultant in equal profiteering, especially being less costly to uphold, but the cuisine

seemed rather unpleasant, and not only that, she was proposing a fast food joint instead

of a shopping center.

Even so, the gods of Mount Jóli judged that the Burger Queen as an investment outweighed

the Cybernetik Electronics as a better gift to man.

Faïri, of dear Ankulanto, first painted the story of Suscrofa, as seen in the start of Book II.

She painted the woman falling on her knees, her feet and hands altered into bone-like

hooves, her clothes and hairs turning into a coarse bristly fur.

Using the pigments of moistened and crushed stones and plants, Faïri then painted,

in her mighty heavenly glow, all-seeing Sån revealing her true self to the woman

who treated her kindly, while in a human disguise, offering her a bed to sleep in and

milk and orange juice in the morning, transforming Suscrofa for her transgressions.

On the moist plaster, Faïri painted the small inn in which the transformation occurred,

using bashed gray pebbles to recreate the stone walls. All the people, gods, and scenery

were painted in their own separate, suitable colors, with each hue, tint, and shade

fitting with one another yet the millions of colors used also standing out strikingly.

Inspecting her competitor’s work and still having the appearance of an aged woman,

Ãrt could find no flaws whatsoever in Faïri’s fresco. Her elderly body showed no

emotion and a vacant stare, yet on the inside, wrathful Ěnguer, son of Faír, took

hold of her heart, the Tot’s emotions akin to all the world’s volcanoes erupting

simultaneously in the middle of a lengthy, all-encompassing, gusty, showery storm.

Wearing an evil smirk, Faïri gloated to the goddess, “Well, it should be obvious who

the winner of the contest is. This contention merely confirms my original claim of

my belief of believing firmly in my beliefs, and you don’t have to believe that your

beliefs are beneficial to you, for I am rigid and stone-like in my beliefs. Now, get

lost! Advice your goddess to come here yourself so that she may confirm my beliefs!”

The second the human finished, the remaining barriers of the goddess’ emotions,

already thinning and crumbling severely, had only the strength of an ill ant remaining.

“Ãrt arrives to you now!” And with that phrase, she got rid of the form of the old woman

and revealed her true form, goddess. All arrogance that was still impregnated in her

was aborted upon seeing the Tot. Faïri was dragged onto the ground by evil twin sisters

Fîr and Tred. All color disappeared from her frightened flesh, as quickly as the all-engulfing

sky bathes in the rose-fingered dawn and, upon the glorious sunrise lighting all the world,

dissolves back to its bright cerulean tint.

Ěnguer’s own natural rage had now totally immersed the daughter of Mêmorí just as

the way a leaf freshly fallen from a tree branch landing into a puddle from a recently

departed rain shower would not be immersed by water.

Ãrt, ferociously filled with flaming ferocity, destroyed the finely-painted fresco by

Faïri, rendering the once gracefully-painted piece depicting Suscrofa’s punishment

by bright Sån for the human’s transgressions into a pile of mutlicolored rubble,

with the surface of the plaster containing the charcoal blacks and browns and grays

born from the pebbles mixing with the rough, pale hueless innards and backsides

of the once untouched substance.

The Tot of the arts turned to the terrified human and stated, making no attempt to

even calm down or create an artificial presentation of stoicness, “Insolent harlot!

If you wish to make fucking pretty pictures, that you shall make such pretty

pictures all your Us-damned life, for all Us-damned eternity!”

With these words, giving the woman no chance to speak, the goddess punished

Faïri. The human’s body started to elongate unnaturally, her once soft human

flesh started to turn into solid plastic, her mouth and head enlarging with the

former being barely opened yet extending with her skull, her whole body losing

any hints of roundness and gaining more bulkiness, numerous trays for paper and

pathways for ink cartridges formed in her once organic body.

Now in the form of massive and separate yet attached black plastic box-like structures,

her natural sheath and organic ring stretched into two gaunt horizontal slits, placed

a further distance from their original perineal span and developing dark gray plastic

trays beneath the two exit slots on the newly formed box.

No body hair was found on her; her facial and other body parts had vanished;

her limbs had been absorbed into her new large and dark form, wherefrom she

now produces many ornamental items like funeral booklets, business cards,

flyer advertisements, calendars, funerary pamphlets, and other kinds of booklets

based on the needs of paying customers. Since then, Faïri, as a printer that works

mostly but sometimes breaks down and needs maintenance, makes pretty pictures.