Curiosity turned into passion. A passion to explore the unknown.

“No. I read.”

From Guest Contributor John Lane

Amidst all the trimmings that the gardeners of our reality have deemed inappropriate for existence, all the strange treasures from lost histories, only one thing interests the Thief.  Despite its quiet profile, it’s the one artifact that promises to fracture the Thief’s world and reinvent it anew.  Gingerly, the Thief opens the chest….

A scroll, written in ancient Aramaic, tells a story.  It tells of a world where Mashup Month was never possible.  Where thegooddoctor rose, put on his man-panties, and never enriched my weblog with delightful synergies of truth and fiction.

The Thief places the scroll in her bag.

Deep beneath the museum, the Thief discovers a cavernous warehouse – the burial ground of suppressed truths.  Searching the labyrinthine storeroom, the Thief moves past the delicately jointed skeleton of a thunderbolt hanging from the ceiling and the limestone fossils of clouds, dense with capillary beds.  Past tall shelves laden with jars of preserved fetuses that link man, not to primates, but to a race of loping salamanders.  Past photographs that prove mountains are the work of one very prolific man, now over 4000 years old and living in East L.A.  Suddenly, the Thief stops short before a modest little chest….

The Museum of Natural History is closed.  In exhibition halls, the deposed kings of the earth hold eyeless court over rooms emptied of all visitors.  All visitors save the Thief.  Quickly passing through Pleistocene and Cambrian periods, the Thief opens a utility closet.  Behind mops and brooms is another, older, door.

Stay out late enough and you’ll hear the wisps of whispers as bold men speculate on the apocrypha of natural history.  They say the Historians have protected their version of nature.  Somewhere, they’ve hidden the artifacts and evidences of the world that contradicts them.

The Thief opens the door.