As the young chemist rode the Long Island train for the umpteenth time, the inexorable march of the eons embraced her thoughts weaving a tapestry of past regrets and missed opportunities. "Nothing novel," she murmured to herself, as her impending destination loomed in the distance. Yet, for an enigmatic cause that eluded her comprehension, the moment her foot graced the platform, an unfamiliar sensation permeated her very being. It coursed through her, an intuition surging through her very bones. Rather than adhering to the familiar trajectory homeward, a force, both intangible and undeniable, compelled her to veer off her routine path.
While wandering like Helen Keller with a divining rod through the back streets of historic Huntington village, she stumbled upon a weathered inscription in a moonlit cemetery that beckoned like a siren's call.... The mystifying word "Pistachio," an arcane incantation etched in a tomb stone, dated one eleven nineteen eleven, emitted a throbbing, ethereal glow under the moon's melancholic gaze. It had to be a sign, she believed. She yearned for guidance, for it felt as though the very cosmos had whispered a nebulous summons meant only for her to decipher. Yet, the riddle lay shrouded in the unfathomable depths of the universe's puzzling utterance, leaving her to question the significance of "Pistachio" in this chapter of her life.
The following morning, the answer revealed itself as she reached deep into her coat pocket and found a pack of Big Red chewing gum. A light bulb went off. The connection was clear – Pistachio Gum! Intrigued by such an immediate kooky thought, she turned to her computer to check if such a product existed. To her astonishment, it did not. From that moment on, she poured her heart, soul, and worldly possessions into unraveling the enigmatic elixir's mysteries. Months passed like fleeting breaths, but her skills as a chemist ultimately led her to create a peculiar paste – a strange alchemy that would transform into the elusive Pistachio Gum. In the dawn of this endeavor, hope shone brightly. She forged alliances with industry giants, and orders for her gum surged through commercial channels. But the relentless strain of Long Island living took its toll. Through a series of serendipitous events and personal transformations, she found herself settling into a tranquil villa on a Hawaiian island, free from the tumult of her former life.
Yet, as quickly as stars converge in the night sky, her fortunes disintegrated. Distributors abruptly severed ties, citing plummeting sales and harsh critiques. An avalanche of unsold Pistachio gum became her burden – a gaping chasm of unrecoverable investments. As if conspiring against her, affliction struck. Shingles, a cruel malady, enveloped her in torment, trapping her in her own frailty.
Staring into the solitary vastness of the Pacific, a spectral specter of her former self, her mind was haunted by that luminous epitaph. Was it a cosmic decree or mere phantoms conjured by the caustic maw of regret and despair? Ultimately, the answer ceased to matter. What remained was the grim acknowledgment of a mistake, a commitment to glean wisdom from the bitter dregs of folly. A vow etched in the annals of remorse drove her to tread more cautiously in the treacherous terrain of future investments, to abandon reliance on signs from a capricious universe, and instead heed the murmurings of her inner tempest. A harsh tutorial, seared into her soul, left her scarred but resolute, resilient in the crucible of her suffering. Then, in an unexpected twist of fate's unfathomable design… the cosmos contorted once more. Stepping outside to retrieve the mail, she beheld a fiery harbinger of doom hurtling from the heavens. Was it a celestial rogue or a fragment of the international space station? Her iPhone's panicked alarm blared loudly!
"BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO HAWAII. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."
Panic besieged her senses. She rushed indoors, clutching whatever fragments of existence she could find, joining the frantic exodus to safety. Amid the chaos, the weight of her losses – wealth, health, and perhaps life itself – burdened her psyche. Yet, amidst the maelstrom, an eerie tranquility washed over her, as if all that had transpired before this apocalyptic juncture had been reduced to mere illusions. She and her forlorn companions concealed themselves within a subterranean sanctum beseeching the heavens as a thunderous roar enveloped them. The walls trembled momentarily before yielding to silence. Discussions of future actions and assessments saturated the underground atmosphere. – a plan to endure in the face of oblivion. They resolved to wait for a while, to weather the storm. Upon emerging from their safety cocoon, she glimpsed a tableau of rebirth – a second chance to construct a new existence, to rebuild the fractured edifice of her life. And so, she did.
She rallied her fellow survivors, breathing life into the embers of their existence in the hazy shadow of the missile's destruction . Amid the radioactive tempest, a revelation unfurled – an enigma concealed within Pistachio gum. Those who had chewed it displayed uncanny resilience in the face of mutating chaos. Initially dismissed as folly, her research unveiled Pistachio's innate defenses – antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties shielding the body from radiation's ravages. It wasn't limited to the gum alone; the Pistachio tree bore elixirs that could defy radiation's malevolence. A Pandora's trove of revelations beckoned, and she, along with her comrades, embarked on the cultivation of Pistachio salvation. They harvested its medicinal bounty and broadcasted its redemptive potential. In the annals of radiation medicine, a beacon of hope emerged – a testament to a daring decision, seemingly foolish, that evolved into a revelation of extraordinary dimensions.
As a side note:
Many years later, (on the serendipitous date of one eleven eleven), she found herself back on Long Island, waiting for a train. In a eerie and gruesome turn of destiny, she choked on a pistachio nut, lost her balance, and fell onto the electrified third rail. Unable to be rescued in time, the oncoming train ran her over, turning her into an indistinguishable amalgamation of crimson and calcium on the remorseless tracks. Nevertheless, my esteemed colleagues and fellow chemists, do not succumb to despair prematurely. For amidst this unsettling situation, a solitary, unblemished pack of "Big Red" chewing gum materialized from the carnage, as if it were the devil's own calling card.
A delightfully macabre souvenir of her tumultuous journey.
credits
from Artificial Tales Of Gleep and Whimsy (Vol. 1),
released November 1, 2023
Sarah Storyteller : Voice
JT : Emergency Voice, Keyboards, Programming, Drums
"Surrender" - recorded at Suburban Hermit Studios II, Stony Brook, NY
"Piano & Drums" recorded at Suburban Hermit Studios II, Stony Brook, NY
Voice: Recorded and Mixed at Suburban Hermit Studios III, Ronkonoma, NY
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