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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2131 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr Naked
Rating: NC17/AU
Pairing: everyone and then some more
Disclaimer: I was smoking some really good stuff when I came up with this.
Betas:Hannelore_K

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Part III – Just Like You Imagined
Chapter 31.

Paul enters first through the door, because he was the one who created it, and we follow. But we stop right there, at the entrance.

It’s not a room. It is something resembling a garden. Right in front of us is a small pond reflecting a gray, cloud-covered sky. The water seems crystal clear, but the bottom is covered in mud. But what makes us remain there, startled by this new place are the ruins – fragments of brick walls, white marble columns, some standing, some floating on the still water of the pond - and statues, statues so old, many of them missing their heads or hands. Everything in this place seems to be motionless, as if this garden is a slice torn from the real world and frozen like that for eternity. Because it is a garden, or a park – trees, grass, all sorts of plants in a million shades of green, yellow, and even red.

“What is it?” Flake is curious about the start of a smile forming on my lips, as we begin to walk on the edge of the pond.

“One would normally expect of a luxuriant garden, with orchids and many tropical flowers and palms and parrots and … instead, a park surrounding ruins on an autumn day,” I explain, and I have to confess that I like this place with its surreal and somber beauty.

“That stupid lizard is doing everything to keep us away, throwing us through parks and all sorts of shit,” Richard mutters, and lights himself a cig.

“At least we’re still together,” Paul replies behind me.

We reach a narrow, metal bridge across the small pond. As we walk on the small bridge, a gust of wind plays through the leaves of the trees. On the other shore of the pond, we find this path, like an alley, covered by white gravel. Each side of the alley is guarded by tall trees with slim white trunks and leaves – some are green, others are yellowed by the autumn. Between the trees there are bushes and plants like climbing ivy, mingled through their branches. On my right I rather guess than see the existence of a spring along our path; it is so hidden by all that wild vegetation, that only its whispering waters signal its presence to us.

And our walk takes hours, endless hours on that alley, among trees, bushes and ruins, odd constructions, but even more awkward – the statues. Some of the statues are very, very old, covered in a green and dark yellowish shade, others quite new, their white marble still glowing in the daylight. These statues depict all sorts of warriors, of all heights and sizes, of both genders, wearing different types of weapons, from the most simple to the most sophisticated ones. At one point, through a breech between trees and bushes we see a field covered by short and very green grass. But what makes us wonder are the army machinery - tanks of all sorts, canons, missile launchers and catapults, and all of them, absolutely all are made of marble. And, just like the statues, they seem to have been crafted by a very talented and gifted sculptor with a very good eye, because they have all the details in their places, making me think that they weren’t sculpted in marble, but they were turned into the white stone by magic. Both the statues and the weaponry look so realistic.

“Why waste time doing all that and desert them in a park or whatever this is?” Olli asks.

“Maybe they aren’t deserted, maybe they are only made to look as if they’ve been scattered here, everywhere.” Paul answers.

At the other side, at the horizon behind the field we see the dark silhouettes of the mountains.

“This is getting weirder by the minute,” Flake comments on a very irritated tone. “Do we have to walk to those mountains and climb them? Maybe we’ll find a door and…”

“If we’re near the Beast’s castle or whatever, I was expecting to see fields covered by the bones of those who came to fight the Dragon and get the Sun back,” Richard interrupts Flake’s angry remarks.

Richard seems unbelievably calm. I turn to look at him.

“Maybe these statues are those who attempted to get the Sun back, and those are their arsenal,” Richard adds, and he points toward the field with two fingers holding his cig.

We all shut up suddenly, as if each of us is crossed by this chilled shiver that pierces my spine.

“That means we’re near Dragon’s lair and, as Flake said, we have to climb those mountains. If it really lives in a castle on the top of a mountain, as I saw in those pictures.”

I turn and look at the field covered by the weaponry turned into marble. I look at the rows of mountains – why does it have to be so much beauty right next to the disgusting stench of death? Yes, Richard must be right again, those are warriors turned into stone. And maybe that’s how we’ll end too, I think, watching the white mist detaching from the arched back of the mountains at the horizon.

I don’t want to be here. Maybe I should turn the page. Yes, turn the page. Now!

*

“What the…?”

“Till, what happened?”

“I turned the page, what do you think?” I reply to an annoyed Flake and I start walking on the small path taking us to the peak of the mountains.

A lush green field covers that particular portion of the mountain. It is warm and sunny; the skies above us are a deep, clear blue.

We keep climbing until we encounter a small, but very cold mountain spring with crystal clear waters. We stop there; we put on the ground the backpacks we’ve been carrying since we left the ship and rest a little. I look behind us, to the foot of the mountains covered by green forests and fields. Afar, on the horizon, I see a white glitter.

“That must be the Ocean,” Flake says near me. “I think that spot there is our ship.”

“How come it was so cold there and here is summer time?” Christoph asks.

“Don’t bother trying to make any sense out of all this,” Paul tells him.

“Nothing has made any sense so far,” Olli adds.

Richard doesn’t comment; he lights himself another cig and puts on his backpack. Time to get going!

For a few hours we climb the mountain in silence; we’re tired already, we need all our energy. We get to a small pass through the mountain that has to take us to the next peak, the highest, where the Beast’s castle is. We leave the sunny plains, with rich green grass and colored flowers, intoxicating us with their warm perfume.

On the other side of the mountain, though, a frozen gust of wind slashes our faces, as if waking us all up to the harsh reality. From there starts the white snow, glittering and burning our vision; the slippery ice covering the black rocks with glassy layers. And the wind is getting harsher and howls like a pack of hungry wolves. It is collecting snow and pieces of ice, twirling and spreading it into our faces. It is like an invisible huge hand trying to push us, to make us fall from the rocky side of the mountain.

“You fucking lizard!” Olli yells, surprising us all. He stops in the middle of the path. “That’s all you can do, you stinking reptile?” The ice storm is lashing our skin, bruising and cutting our faces.

But the wind howls even louder, as if Olli’s reaction has made it even angrier. We remain still, though, barely standing, but on our feet. So the wind spreads and whirls the snow and the ice, forming this white shivering wall in front and behind us, a wall taller than the tallest of us.

Like to an unspoken command, we all feel the triggers of our flame-throwers; we group and we start walking toward the wall in front of us. When we get near it, three silhouettes detach from the wall; three warriors made of snow and ice standing in front of us, threatening, with their swords. I turn my head – behind our small group there are three other such warriors, positioned to fight.

In this moment I hope that the flame-thrower hasn’t frozen because of that ice storm and the cold. Yet, I raise its barrel, pointing toward the snow warriors. All six of us get even closer to each other, back against back, as we watch how even more silhouettes are detaching from the ice and snow walls, to form giant white warriors, with swords drawn out.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Richard spits through his teeth, and he turns on the flame-thrower. “Take this!” And his scream is swallowed by the howling wind.

In the next second all of us turn on the flame-throwers and aim at the giant warriors of snow and ice. In the beginning, this seems to have no effect on them, but soon the long yellow tongues of the flames are starting to melt the swords, the helmets, and the warriors themselves.

That seems to give us more courage; suddenly it’s like we don’t feel the lashes of the ice storm, and our limbs don’t feel numbed anymore as we start advancing, while melting those monsters of ice and snow. The raging wind above our heads howls and spreads the remaining silhouettes, throwing bits of ice right into our faces, smashing them against our bodies as we are struggling to stand up against its sharp drafts.

But it looks like we’re not to be spared that easily. The wind calms its blasts, bit by bit, until it stops completely. We remain still, grouped, between the mountain’s rocks. It’s starting to get too quiet, as if everything is entering a coma. Only the sun above us is heating mercilessly, as if threatening to burn the world with its rays reflected in the mirror created by the ice.

Then the Earth starts to quiver and grunt as if a massive part of it is getting dislocated.

“Oh, fuck!” I hear that horrified whisper near my ear.

The tall rocks surrounding us are changing their shapes, slowly, painfully, and turning into human forms.

“We’re doomed!”

“You can say that again!” Olli replies behind me.

They are huge, their skin keeping the gray-blue of the rock along with the texture, they are growing long beards, they are wearing helmets and they are armed with swords. They are bearing shields also, even if, considering their height and strength, they don’t need them.

“The page, Till!”

I look at Flake. Yes, how could I forget? The page.

“Turn the page!” Paul repeats Flake’s words.

Flame-throwers wouldn’t be of any help in this situation.

Turn the page! The page! Turn the page!

I squeeze my eyelids, hoping with all I’ve got that it would work, that it is the time to turn the page. The mountains are shaking so bad, I can hear the rocks on the tops of the cliffs crumbling, falling dangerously close to where we are; and the sinister grunting and moaning of the Earth as those creatures are emerging from the stone is becoming a deafening continuous thunder.

The page! Turn the page!

*

I open my eyes as if awakened violently by the silence. Right in front of me I see the bluest sky of all skies. On my skin I feel again the heat of the summer sun. I am lying on my back. I push the ground with my palms and I stand up. And I remain still, stunned.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 30
- 31
- 32
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)