The Fall of Atlantis and the Rise of the Pyramids


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Life doesn’t stop when it revolves around another. Pluto means compulsions. Compulsions are drive from another life. My dear you were a champion. We were the best of the best in a time of great unrest. We were deemed fit for salvation. We were deemed for competition. We were deemed fit for training.

When the world fell into the sea, all who were left was a select few, and you and me. We were carried in crafts, away from our homes that no longer exist. Brought into a new world, where the only oceans were that of grasses, and the only temples were bland. The people were rustic, diverse, and unclean. You ended up being viscously mean.

We were training to build a monument that would last through the ages. Building something to free them of their cages. To open unbelieving eves to what is possible. We were learning how to open minds to the skies and our ties to Earth. We were building the pyramids. One breath at a time.

And so, we arrived confused and alive to the place beside the Nile, which looked much like Kansas today. When I emerged from my pod about fifty meters from yours, I saw a village and dirt roads. The people settled here because of the water that erodes and feeds the crops. They ran amok, for there were twelve strange spheres that had landed around their town. The leaders came down and met me. I was versed in the language, for I was a temple priestess before in Atlantis, and they taught the indigenous languages of Earth.

They knew of the project. The star people had arrived a week before. Bringing medicine and education on water dispersion. There were sixteen huts built off to the side, for the new people to reside. Me and you being two. The other candidates being ten, and our teachers were four. Our teachers were sky people. The lions, the Lyrans, that were left. There were other project going at the same time, in different places, with different species of sky people leading.

You emerged from the pod after I had received the news, and you were shaken. You had just lost your home, your family and friends, just like me, but the news hadn’t hit you yet. I knew because as my pod left the temple, I was conscious and watched the flood happen. You had apparently been unconscious and it needed to be explained. The only place that showed devastation was your eyes. Cool as a cucumber to those untrained in energetic signatures.

When everyone had come out of their pods and walked to the center, we were informed of a feast at nightfall. It was recommended that we take time in our huts to process the disaster. I went to mine and cried. My Shishna, grandmother, watched me rise and cried tears of joy before she died. I knew that Atlantis was due for a fall, the businesses replaced the temples. The only place for people to gather was the opiate lounge. My temple was one of the last that had enough funding to survive. Most people kept hybrid animal slaves, and treated them with distain. The knowledge that had given rise to our success was largely lost to the populace, and used against our best interests.

By the time night fell I was looking emptily out of my window. Hopeful for a new future, a clean slate for humanity. Heart-broken that my sisters were not taken with me. However, I understood why. I walked with my head held high, because I was still alive, to the gathering house of the village. It was a 15 meter by 30-meter structure, with the long side open. The kitchen was on the left side and was about five meters wide with open fires and cookware made of stone. The remaining ten meters to the right were set up with a few large circular tables that sat eight. You arrived late and sat across from me. There was some chatter, how are you handling the news? What did you see? Where are you from? What is your name? We went around the table.

Birds, small deer and root vegetables were served with spice rubs. It was delicious and I was very hungry. You were too, and we smiled at each other when we saw the other with a voracious appetite. Just because the world ended doesn’t mean that people don’t need to eat. The ridiculousness of it all made nervous laughter circulate around the table. Yours was by far the most impressive.

The meal was served with a psychotropic mushroom tea, and spring water,  and by the time the Lyrans arrived and began to speak, I was seeing color with speech. “You have all been hand-picked for this mission. It is of the utmost importance. There will be trials. We will teach you everything that you need to know to flourish, but only four of you are expected to survive. Be centered. Be strong. Walk lightly. We meet at sunrise on the hill.”

It was the height of summer, and so sunrise was now only 7 hours away from my guess. You seemed to be enjoying the tea and stayed to socialize, and I was charmed. You asked me to stay for a while. We talked for a half an hour or so before I insisted on going back to my hut. The majority of students followed my lead. We would be training after all, sleep is necessary to function optimally and learn.

The next six months were spent in a predictable routine. Sunrise meditation and lecture followed by a light meal. Discussion and questions until the workouts at noon. By two months we were moving rocks with our minds as well as our bodies. From afternoon to evening was free time for study, reflection, tutoring, and seeing the town and getting to know the people. We were quite popular. You made yourself a hero, helping those in need. I spoke mainly with the elderly women of the town. They chewed a special bark and played a numbers game with pebbles and a grid. I became quite good at it and learned many secrets. Sarah, another student joined me and we would laugh for hours. After the evening meal, you and I would walk a lap around the settlement and banter about differing theories and theologies.

The testing began midwinter. Again, there was a feast and special tea. Again, there was an announcement from our teachers. “There will be eight trials. They are as follows, Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, Lions, Birds, Snakes, and Spiders. May you all learn what is necessary about yourself to thrive.” Our discussion that night was somber. We were both very skilled in our training, but I told you not to be cocky. There were only four of us expected to survive. I only prayed that we would be included among those four, but I knew that either you or I would not make it. We made love for the first time that night.

I slept uneasily after you left my hut, imagining the Earth trial to come on the solstice six days away. Our training would be more specialized for the trials, and I was guessing more intense. In the morning I found that to be correct. There was a sickening competitive air among the candidates. Drills. Our only weaponry was our minds.

On the day of the first trial our teachers stood on the hill. We went up one by one. I went seventh, you went fifth. There was no communication allowed during the trial. I sat in the gathering area where we had feasts and meditated until it was my turn. When I rose to the crest of the hill, there were three of my teachers standing, and one was cross legged on the ground. Sit across from me. I did. She said that the objective was to catch the purple pebble. She let me hold it. Thankfully it was similar to the pebbles I played the game with, and I was familiar with the energetic signature of the stone already. When I handed the stone back, she nodded at me and said lets begin. The pebbled rose from her hand and plummeted into the ground. I could sense it moving, almost hear it, in the ground. I remained still and listened. Looking for any kind of pattern so that I could get ahead of it. It would pop above the surface and come at my head and body, which I dodged with ease. When it went for my left ear, I heard it whiz and caught it a centimeter from my ear, where it would have went straight through my head. I simply plucked it from the air. The trick was to gently and abruptly disturb its course.  Very well, said my teacher, you will move on. The third person who went to the trial was not seen at the evening meal.

The next trial took place six and a half weeks later. We were training in the river for the majority of it. They were training us to form water into floating spheres, then into more complex and beautiful mandalas. One day, you started an altercation with the teachers. How is making mandalas going to help us survive? I was disappointed that you couldn’t see the practical beauty in learning the intricacies of water prana. The day of the trial was similar to the last, but we walked to the river rather than the hill. I went sixth. The teachers objective was to surround our head with water. Ours was to hold a mandala for three seconds. When it was my turn I was nervous, even after hours of meditation. When my teacher said start, something clicked into my mind. Let them drown me. I can breath oxygen out of the water through my eyes. It ended up being easier than I imagined. Very well. I survived. You survived. One did not.

The training for the wind required that we learn to first hover, and then to fly. This was my favorite time. The wind and I chatted in my meditations and I excelled. You also did well in this regard, but would lose focus and plummet during a brag before getting your mind on track again. Some in the class could barely travel a hundred meters. On the day of the trial we met at the top of the hill again, my teachers and I. The objective was to touch a cloud that the teachers made about five hundred meters high and bring it down to the surface intact. Again, I passed with ease. Again, one did not make it. You passed with ease again, but your bravado was getting more intense and unbearable. I started cutting our laps short under the guise of needing rest, you were so socially involved that you barely noticed, or cared. I was in mourning for the excellent students lost, for the family lost, and for the society I had once been a part of. You seemed to forget your humble roots of thievery.

The fourth trial was the one I was most looking forward to. Fire. The tool that made man, man. I had spent many hours meditating on the candles and lamps at the temple, and I knew flame well. The elements were something I came into this training more familiar than most, which gave me and edge. During fire training I began giving extra tutoring in the afternoons to those who were struggling. I wanted the rest of us to make it out alive. I was not accepting the rule of four, which you seemed to get some sadistic pleasure out of. We learned to start and extinguish a flame without lifting a finger. How to make fire move and shrink with nothing but our will. We learned how to caress fire without the burn. By the end of our training everyone could start and hold a flame in their palm. On the day of the trial we went one by one into a valley, the nine of us who were left. The objective was to survive being engulfed in flame, and then shrink it into nothing. I found pleasure in being surrounded by the heat, and took my time lowering the flame. Sarah, my dear friend, did not survive this one.

I spent that night in my hut and did not come out for the evening meal. I stared at a loss into space. Not wondering why this was happening. Not broken from everything that had happened, I was numb. This is when I fully committed to the mission. I knew that Sarah’s life was not given for nothing. Our teachers loved us and taught us about the process of the afterlife, including reincarnation. I knew I would meet her again. She came to me as a spirit, and gave me strength. You rudely interrupted my musings and wanted to celebrate another test passed. That was our first fight. I demanded that you leave and speak to me again only when you learned the value of a life. I did not speak to you again in that lifetime, although you approached me. The students were divided, of the eight of us left, four were joyous and blown away by their “superpowers” and four of us were humbly and quietly accepting of our role in this new age. I knew now the four who would survive and the four who would not. I was grimly looking forward to meeting the other extra-terrestrial species who would proctor the last three tests.

The first test of the star people was from our own teachers, the lions.  At breakfast there was an announcement on the day of the trial. “These next four trials will sort the grain from the weeds. They will test not your abilities, but your spirit. They will be some of the greatest lessons in your entire existence. If you do not make it through one of these trials, there will be at least three lifetimes of karmic lessons so that you may understand.” For this trial we went into the temple, one by one. When it was my turn I took a deep breath and readied myself for anything. Our teachers had always been caring, but they were not soft. This would not be as easy or natural as the elementals. The room was lit with torches, and my teacher was sitting in the back of the room, facing the door, eyes closed. “Welcome Francesca, please sit.” The objective of this task was to read only the thoughts that my teacher was sending, and not the grotesque background in his mind. If I miss-stepped it would mean learning a terrible truth that would drive a human mad. I was very okay with not knowing his secrets, and we had a pleasant, and silent chat about what the final mission would be after the trials. I left feeling queasy, entering another’s mind, even with permission, always gave me the willies. The last person who went did leave the temple, only to walk straight to the kitchen and impale himself with a knife. She did so without a word.

The next day our teachers left, and the bird star people arrived. They asked us politely to fly as a group and get to know each-other. It was delightful. They were our teachers for the next six and a half weeks, and we were taught inter galactic etiquette. There is a strict code of law that must be followed when meeting another species. This is to show that both members are going to abide by inter galactic law. First, each party states a brief introduction. There are three questions allowed after that. If there is no agreement after the short exchange of words, the more powerful entity will defeat the lesser entity. For this trial there was a special guest present from the stars, and he was in charge of deciding if we were polite company or not. An insult would be our demise. He was a great elemental from another planet, similar to our Gia, and about fifteen feet tall. He was a cross between the plant and animal kingdom. Our banter went as follows:

“I am Dromka of Gilliad, I balance life and death.”

“I am Francesca of Atlantis, I serve the Great Goddess.”

“Are you small?” he asked.

“My size is relative to my surroundings. Are you powerful?”

“My power is equal to that of a planet. Are you peaceful?”

I replied “I cherish my piece within the whole”. I then asked, mostly out of curiosity rather than curtesy, taking a risk, “Do you have a favorite creation on your planet?”

“Bold of you to ask, I do, and it is myself. How does my appearance affect you?”

Taken aback, I decided to be honest, “You are terrifyingly awesome.” He laughed. I paused to listen to the music of it and formulate my last question. “Why does your planet have a God, and ours a Goddess?”

“Child, gender is semantics, we all come from source.”

And that was that.

The bird star people seemed to be glad of the one who did not make it this time, you survived with ease. I took repose with the women of the village and spoke to them of the great mysteries I was learning. I confessed to them my love for you and my anger, as well as the sorrow I carried. Most of them did not understand my melancholy. To them, I was a saint or more. I began teaching them small things in return for counseling and company. They were suspicious of the snake people when they arrived. The snake star people were figuratively and literally cold, which made many uneasy. I liked their bluntness and felt they were trustworthy. They taught us human behavior. It was like psychology, but much more inclusive and advanced. They had seen and studied the rise and fall of many civilizations. They proved their points my manipulating us and predicting our reactions. Their trial was one that some Christian sects still practice today, snake handling. The morning announcement, “The snake will reflect back to you the behavior that is in your heart”. I was worried because I knew my heart was in turmoil. I spent the waiting time doing heart chakra healing.

When I arrived in the dimly lit temple, there was a woven basket with a lid. I was told to lift and kiss the forehead of the snake. There was no time limit. I hummed as I entered the room, intuitively using frequency to calm the snake before I lifted the cover from the basket. He rose curiously from the basket and looked into my eyes. We simply stared for a long while. I think there was telepathic communication, but the language was so ancient and forgotten that I only knew what was being said by feel. When the snake bowed, I gently lifted him from the basket and kissed his head. This is the trial that you did not survive. Respect was a concept you weren’t well-versed in. I was not surprised. I was saddened, because I knew it would take you much longer than three lifetimes to learn.

All that was left for me when the spider star people arrived were the friendly women and the mission. I was mostly okay with that, but there was a deep anger inside of me that started to brew. It was simply unfair that I had lost everyone. I was grateful for the education, but the blood spilled to grant it seemed unnecessary and cruel. The spider people were known for their cruelty, and I was uneasy through our training. It was about balancing dictatorship and freedom. Freedom is only possible within a framework, and that framework must be followed or there are consequences and loss of freedom. As for the test, I decided not to mull over what it might be.

On the day of the last trial, the remaining five candidates gathered for breakfast. “You will need to use your judgement and find a punishment that fits the crime of an individual in the town. If the town does not agree with your verdict, you will be spun in a web and given to us.” This task required a knowledge of the people we had been living with for over a year now, and their culture. It was a dead win for four of us and a dead loss for the one who thought that he was superior to the natives. It was the only public trial, and took place where the feasting did. The five criminals were brought to sit at one table, the spider sky people at another, and the five of us at the last. My criminal had stolen and slaughtered his neighbor’s chickens. He was known to be very lazy, and too fond of drink. He kept a small garden and stayed in a hut away from town with plenty of space. My verdict was that he would supply a chicken for each family at the winter solstice, about twenty chickens a year when the pickings were most slim. I would teach him an efficient way to raise them as I had learned in Atlantis, and if he ever failed to deliver a chicken he would be publicly beaten on the solstice. The crowd approved because they liked chickens and they liked public beatings. The candidate who did not survive this trial sentenced someone to death, which was strictly against the culture we were residing in. Humans do not kill humans was one of their foundational laws.

The spiders left with their captive, and I was glad to be free of the testing. I was glad to see my teachers arrive when they returned and spoke to us of their travels. We were a closely knit family in a way. We were almost ready to build a monument that would last many generations. At this point, it was no longer a maybe. We would do it. It was just a matter of going through the process. The first pyramids would be built with collaboration, willpower, and a love for life. I was lucky to be a part of it. You, however, were not so lucky. I hope that you find life’s lessons and take them for what they are. I hope you realize your piece in the whole, and in that you find your peace. I Love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.

2 responses to “The Fall of Atlantis and the Rise of the Pyramids”

  1. johncoyote Avatar

    I enjoyed the story dear Brigid. When we lose our freedom. What is left?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. brigidfaye Avatar

      When we lose our freedom, dear John, what is left are old patterns of abuse and scarcity,


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