Danarel, the Conjurer and the King Stork

Some who may receive a copy of this letter don’t know who is Danarel. Discreetly, I inform everybody that he is my guardian angel. When it was more or less clear that I should come into being, my mother, the CONJURER, who was also a first rung ESPER (extra sensory perception), a TRUE BELIEVER, and THE LEADER OF THE PEOPLE, did something that had zero chances to succeed. She was desperate. She knew that age and situation, the Second World War was on the way, would not allow her to have more than one child. She also sensates that the package coming, me, will be a quite violent guy, not very easy to raise. Also, she felt that things may go from bad to worse. They did, the Nazis left so to say but the Communist regime that came after was no less ferocious. Also, she knew that in the best of cases, the final run, read DEATH, is rarely peachy and quite impossible to predict for anybody even for her. So, my mother did what a Conjurer was not supposed to do and asked for something for her, or close. She asked Danarel to be my guardian angel. She knew of him and she truly admired him. Now I have the story from my mother, but she never told it clearly or entirely. It came in fragments and was going back and forth. I have to put it together from little bits. The chances of having Danarel as a guardian angel were close to nil. Danarel was a SKY COHORT COMMANDER of amazing power, involved in tough fights against EVIL.

He should never fancy taking care of a puny individual. Against all odds he accepted. Yes, he knew that the Conjurer was something special too and that she did many good things for many people still having a perfect family life, but more than anything else he was fed up with the SKY general policy. He was for eradicating the EVIL of the world. The sky-upper command, found his attitude BOTH vigilante and extremist, while the fashion was already of CIVIC RIGHTS activists for whatever issue. They, the sky command, were for a CERTAIN DIALOGUE if you know what I mean. As a result, Evil runs today the world. Look for example the stupid POPE, fawning and pawning like an old COURTESAN but avoiding raising the voice to defend his flock any time that it is butchered a little bit and clumsy covering the ECCLESIASTIC PEDOPHILE TRADITION.

So Danarel was happy to leave the stinking I MEAN SINKING ship for many thousand years… Angels have time… After things may change or not… Nobody saw him for sure, but there are some reasons to believe that without looking mean, his severe glance was enough to give tremors to the most courageous. Also, it was advanced that he could take various appearances at will. I was told that once an Inca colonial artist took a glimpse of Danarel, painted him in a mild stance on a wood panel, and died again. Some people doubted the facts, but the deceased pretended that if BORN AGAIN is possible, DEAD AGAIN is also livable. I got a copy of the work.

I don’t want to say too much about the Conjurer, after all, she was my mother but I feel compelled to say that all my life I was tremendously envying her. Green with jealousy I may say. Everybody listened to her, nobody was ready to pay attention to what I had to say even if I would pay for that…. You have to imagine, the Conjurer a tiny individual who from early childhood had a central position within the brotherhood, with her parents, her teachers, her schoolmates, in the university, among the people of her town, for the people of her party and more than with anybody else – with her husband and her son. All this without making the smallest effort, without jockeying for a second just by being herself she got the first rank and full attention. I agree she had a finely modulated voice, was a great orator, pompous and dramatic here and there, and was thoroughly sincere. She was very seldom going into a contest but when it happened she could reduce the antagonist into a useless commodity in less than a small minute. She was very sharp and quick, and simultaneously very proud and humble if somebody can understand that. But intelligent people are at ten dollars the dozen, not? People came to take counsel from her, seemingly to get some bits of advice. In reality, they believed that the Conjurer could bend fate…Not too much, let’s be serious, a little bit can help too…she never said that she could, she would be simply horrified to think of that, but the rumor was running…tiny, tiny, she was throwing a HUGE SHADOW…the only explanation that I can think of it is that the Conjurer had a PURE HEART, like Sir Galahad, you know from the King Arthur knights, and that should have been the source of her power…I cannot see something else…

Now my parents, the Conjurer, and my father told me how I came into the family. They said that the King Stork brought me. Let’s face it, I am an atheist, an evolutionist, and a total skeptic, but I am not going to argue with my parents whom I adored and who did everything for me. So what they said, that it is, what it was. Do you want to give children accurate functional glandular explanations? Feel free. I don’t care. We belonged, my parents and I, like the Little Prince, to another planet. I forgot the name.  I was brought home by the King Stork and period. So, Danarel, (I had never seen him, you better don’t try, it may burn your eyes, SEE what happened with the Inca painter) took the ticket with my family name and number to King Stork who had the shakes, because he was accustomed to receiving tickets from little cherubim and not from a warrior angel. The King Stork, is very elegant and stuff, always a black tie and barely stirring his wings. He is a slider moving like the softest breeze upon the perfumed moonflowers, but this time, I may say he went like a bullet. They flew together to the Lake of Babies and the King Stork caught me with his big red beak while Danarel was watching him closely. It was not a good feeling, for the King Stork even though Danarel did not mean evil.

To be more exact the conservative Danarel kept the scrupulously monogamous and thoroughly fusional King Stork in high esteem, while sadly reflecting on the fragility and the promiscuity of the human relationships.
Then, they flew straight to my parents’ house without exchanging a word on the way and delivered me in pristine condition. I was shouting like hell just to signify my arrival, otherwise I felt fine. My beloved father was patiently waiting on the border of our orchard when the two mighty fliers dived towards him and a relaxed King Stork with infinitely more kindness than you can expect from a predator bird, laid me down in his arms. I calmed on the spot and I widely turned on the valves to let in the mighty flow of love that was coming from him and which remained eighty years after the occurrence and forty-five years after his passing away, the source of my power, of my will, of my identity, and of my total mental freedom. I spit on the Zeitgeist for example, when I feel it false, that means most of the time, but that gene was coming from the Conjurer and not from my father who was a hopeless utopian socialist. A lawyer by training the Conjurer was asking for hard stone evidence and argued that barking alone is not proof. Notwithstanding the differences, harmony and commitment were total between them and I knew at once that I landed into an iron-clad family.

The Conjurer with the full accord of my father gave me the name of D.D. to honor my guardian angel. What my angel did for me during my lifetime, I am nearly eighty now it is not necessary to tell for the moment, but it was a lot. Do you need more details you can try to get them from the King Stork, who is still alive. High-ranked storks may often live forever. He has a glorious nest near Harman a fortified church in Transylvania, (Herman was by the way the name of my father.) Interferences, circumstantial or not, are always appealing! Confidentially, I tell you that the above-mentioned volatile is not only the King but also the Sire of an impressive population of storks who built nests near his. I caught five in my snapshot but they were more!  They all are his descendants at various degrees. Try to humor the dignified King with a pair of fat bullfrogs. Why, now being an old man I write to Danarel especially? Does he need it? He knows the story! The reason is that I want to be sure that somebody in the world will listen to what I have to say. And because I see through the words, through the behaviors, through the people, through the minds, through fads, and the fashions, through the customs and the fears, through politics and hearts, through history and culture, like somebody who gazes through a transparent, clean mountain brook…I feel compelled to tell to whom want to hear that there is a lot of EVIL out there, that Jean Jacques R. with his “original goodness” was a fool, and that mankind is mad. If you are alert and if you have a mighty angel protecting you, you may go out of the mix, unharmed as I am TILL NOW! Good luck!