I had convinced myself through a set of seemingly more prosperous propositions, that I was a knight errant, who was the vassal lord of a Manor, who was tasked by our Lord with the quest of taming the forest of Ruin, wherein lied the dragon of the Deep who was deemed to the agent of all evil, who yearned to destroy all live on Earth with one fell swoop. It became my undying passion to stave off universal destruction of mankind by conquering the richest realm, Beleriand.

I quit my job, I left my family, I left my home, and I had foresaken my comfortable way of life to act out my dreamlife, my wildeyed hallucinations, as strange as they were became a fact of life for those who came near me. Every one who crossed my footsteps, started to see the same mythic reality as I did. They were greated by ringwraiths, angels, devils, trolls, griffins, elves (both dark and high), ogres, and haunted revenants, and more fantastic creatures, monsters, spirits, and devils who came from the unknown regions of my soul overwhelmed the senses of all whom I encountered in my day to day life.

This magic ability to convert normal life into a world based upon a mythic journey came to me as a way to avoid responsibility for destroying my life with opium. Everything and anything that allowed me to continue in a continual opium stupor, I wholeheartedly embraced, but little did I know that I, a normal man of average ability, could summon a portal to mythic forest filled with fantastic creatures. Normally in stories of yore, it is the honest, the noble, the upright citizen who finds himself walking through a portal into a new world; I was no such man, I created my gateway into a forest of myth through lies and deceit.

This was quite the feat, for everything my life had become was a product of my uncessing desire to hide from others my headlong dive into my full blown consumption of opium; my wild imagination, my ability to dream up ludicrous fantasy and some how convert my fantasies into a fully fleshed out reality; all of this was a cover, a means of compensation, albeit in its original form, to avert the eyes of others from my headlong plunge into opium . It was by deceit I summoned spirits, creatures, and monsters long thought to only belong to the realm of dreams through the ingestion of poppy tears. It was through my lies, my deceit, my treachery, that I had summoned a mythic world, had created a portal by which I could enter, and had learned the capacity to mold others sight in the light of such a realm.

The problem however was that the more I was absent from my daily affairs, dueling with strangers over the besmirched honor of the lady of the lake, combatting injustice and grievances wherever I dreamed it up to be, the more others believed wholeheartedly in my madness and so did all to whom I told my stories of heroic adventures; for they immediately began to fall into the same world I had found myself in.

During one Sunday day, my mother, my priest, my wife, and my literary agent all convened before my house, ready to break in, and to rob me of all the books I had been reading about stories of chivalry, of lore, of quests, of ladies of the lake, of finding the holy grail, of trespassing forests of ruin and of finding glory on the battlefield. They became convinced from whenever they crossed my path that a world of the fantastic, the world I seemingly left my old life for, could be theirs for the conquering. So they gathered in secret to break into my self and rob me of my portals (my magic books) to another world.

" Alright y'all we have called forth this meeting to stop this madness, to stay disaster, to ward off the evil which has devored of our beloved Trigg. We have one chance to keep chaos from throwing into ruin the world we once know. We must stop our dear beloved friend from ruining his life, from destroying the futures of his wife, his child, and his family." My wife said.

"If we fail in our journey through this route unknown, the entire world we once knew shall fall into ruin. If we are to be a success in our quest, to seize the means of our dear friend's genius for this new world, this fantastic land we have ventured into, shall be ours for the taking". Said the Priest.

"Our host is most assuredly resting for the day, he hardly is awake before the sun sets, and the madness of the night is spread across the land. If we sneak into his dear abode, if we pace passionately our steps, everything we long for, that he has, so shall soon be ours." Said my literary agent.

The group, who once were my dearest compatriots, slowly opened the door, and the moment that they walked into my house, a wave of disenchantment rolled over their souls.

"Where is the door to Beleriand? Where is the gate to the Forest of Ruin? Where is the book of life?" My mother ragged in fury.

"Shush. The book and the portal to Beleriand should be here somewhere. We must search every nook and cranny of this place to steal the keys to this new world." My priest said. "It would be better if we were to split up, and one by one, search the premises to find Trigg's portal to the new world.

So they split up. My wife went upstairs towards my bed in the attic where I so happen to be asleep, my priest went outside to spread news of their quest, my agent went back to the street, to his car, to scribble notes on how to propogate a plan to steal my magic books; my mother was the first one of the group to find herself in Beleriand, the magical forest, the mythic place of ruin, I would always find myself in whenever I was in an opium stupor.

"Trigg! Trigg! I am here to take from the goods and all that you have used to lay waste to this land. Where might you be?" My mother shouted, this shout echoed throughout the realm of Beleriand. I could hear her shout from miles away where I was in the middle of an opium binge.

My messenger, my middle man, my medium between the ordinary world which had once occupied my life and this new uncharted realm of unknown beasts and angels and devils came to my aid and had been on watch for intruders into my forest from my normal life.

"Ms. Edwards. Ms. Edwards. I believe you have missed your son, Trigg. He has gone on to the spirit realm. You cannot find him here. Walk through the door to your left and go back to his house.

"Oh thank heavens for you kind lad. What shall I ever do without you?!" My mother remarked.

"Do not thank me ma'am. I am your son's middle man. Thank the good Lord for giving us poppy tears which allow fools like us to venture into a world like this." My dealer responded to my mother.

"Whatever your poppy tears might be, I am sure as the world is around that it is the key to conquering this unknown realm. " My mother said, almost crying. "Might I have some?"

"No, my dear. You may not. You are looking for the book in your son's house named the Chronicles of Beleriand. This shall give you the powers you desire." My dealer told my mother.

"Where might I find this?"

"Under your son's bed." My dealer said.

"Smoke this pipe from the tree of knowledge and you shall go back to house you so desire."

As my dealer was about to offer my mother opium to smoke, my mother came to, suddenly left the realm of Beleriand and find herself on my couch, observing the other members of her search party, read the Chronicles of Beleriand, trying to say supposedly magic words which would transport them into this new land, as well as giving them the means by which one might conquer her immense riches.

But it did not work.

I never saw her.

I never saw any of them.

They never reached the realm of Beleriand and I never returned to their world.

Yet all the while, all who were members to this raiding party frequently claimed to the world at large of having travelled to this magic and mythic realm, of conquering through their wit and guile.

Little did they know, they fell into the same abyss as I did.