Tag: writing

The Tanah–Beginnings, Chapter Eight

[The following is the ninth of many posts–here is the first, here is the second, here is the third, here is the fourth, here is the fifth, here is the sixth, here is the seventh, and here is the eighth–about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

Though Rawmios found success as a teacher and performer, he was still haunted by the painful memories of his wicked family. It was obvious to him, from his reputation all over Nawaitos as a gifted teacher, that his mother’s description of him–as feeble-minded–was a perfidious lie. It was a big lie, an absurd lie.

Rawmios came to realize that much of what we know isn’t really the truth, but just a human construction that claims to represent reality (for what do we really know about anything?). Therefore, if the human representation is harmful, and has been proven invalid, then it must be replaced with a better, healthier construction that is closer to reality. Rawmios had to take all of the lies his family told him about himself, and wipe the slate clean.

He would take all of the family’s cruel misrepresentations of him and replace them with their honourable opposites. Since he had been deprived of these virtues, he now had the right to claim them as his own. If he had possessed all of the vices the family claimed he had, he had acquired those vices only by power of suggestion. Now he would use power of suggestion to acquire the opposite virtues.

Therefore, since his mother said he was feeble-minded, now he could believe himself to be gifted in intelligence. Since his father taught him to believe unquestioningly all of Lorenzos’s teachings, and to be intolerant of any heretical changes to them, now Rawmios would be free to change any of those teachings that were clearly wrong-headed. Since his brothers called him vile names, he would claim the sweetest of names for himself now. If he was once called selfish and absorbed in himself, now he was selfless and concerned more with others than with himself. If his sister called him weak and cowardly, he would now be brave and strong.

Fashioning a new identity for oneself is never easy, so Rawmios reinvented himself with the powerful aid of meditation. He would not stop meditating until he had fully remade himself.

During meditation, one is always assailed with distractions; so was Rawmios. The distractions came at him like an army of demons, assaulting him with his old painful memories. Rawmios was determined to conquer them all, and he did. He did so by looking at the demons, right in the eyes, and saying these words: “You demons are all liars.” At the sound of these words, the demons all fell.

The demons regrouped, and started a fresh assault. But this time, their weapon wasn’t pain: it was pleasure. They would distract Rawmios with images of naked women in lewd poses, with thoughts of Rawmios’ music and poetry–what he had yet to finish, and would eagerly finish–and with thoughts of how pleasurable it would be to tell his family, “You are liars.”

Rawmios was determined to reconquer the demons, and he did. He did so by looking at the demons, right in the eyes, and saying these words: “The pleasure of a clean slate is greater than the pleasure of naked, lewd women, greater than finishing my music and poetry, and greater than cursing my family.” At the sound of these words, the demons all fell.

Again the demons regrouped, and they started another assault. This final time, their weapon was neither pain nor pleasure: it was to alert Rawmios of his responsibilities. They reminded him of his work as a teacher, and of how his students lacked him. They reminded him of his responsibility to his wife, who lacked him. They reminded him of the listeners of his music and poetry, and of how his listeners lacked him.

Rawmios was determined to defeat the demons, and he did. He did so by looking the demons straight in the eyes, and saying these words: “My students won’t lack me for long, my wife won’t lack me for long, and my listeners won’t lack me for long. Patience is indispensable. When I return to them all, I will give my students a far greater teaching than ever before; I will give my wife a love far greater than ever before; and I will give my listeners music and poetry far greater than ever before. So well will I benefit them all that my brief absence will be quickly forgotten–so quickly forgotten that my absence will seem never to have been. You demons are all liars: be gone with you!” At the sound of these words, the demons all withered and died.

Rawmios had finally wiped the slate clean. All of the bad conceptions of who he was had vanished, exposed for the lies that they all were. His pain was gone, and he had a new vision of his life.

In his vision, he saw a spark of light coming from that Higher Reason, which underlies all things. That light entered Lizas’ womb on the night that Reynholdos Sr. impregnated her. The light added a weight to her pregnancy, such that she’d describe it as if she was about “to give birth to an elephant.” So painful was this pregnancy, which she’d never wanted, that Lizas found herself hating the unborn child. Giving birth to him was particularly painful, but when she looked in his eyes, she loved him.

It became clear to Lizas very early how gifted her new son was, but she didn’t want Reynholdos Jr., Gionos, and Catyas to envy the boy. Though the boy showed aptitudes in music and storytelling, she ignored them. The dark seed of an idea grew in her mind, one of mastering the boy by making him seem the opposite of what he was. When this unnatural urge took root in her mind, the mother in her died to the boy, replaced with a smiling witch.

Though the family was wealthy, Lizas didn’t want Nitramius, as he was called then, to be any better than a common worker. She delighted in how powerful she felt, an unextraordinary woman dominating an exceptional child. She misled Reynholdos Sr., telling him the boy seemed half-witted. They had doctors examine the boy. The doctors told Lizas of the talent they saw in him, and she lied to her husband, telling him the doctors said the opposite. She was afraid of her boy achieving greatness, while the children she preferred were seen as mediocre. He was educated with less intelligent classmates, and not allowed to go outside the city in which the family lived. Nitramius was lonely and miserable.

Four times, though, he secretly left the city and found people who recognized his abilities. The first time, he sang before some people, and they loved his voice. The second time, he gave some poems to be published in a book, and they were loved by many. The third time, he acted in a short play, and he was praised. The fourth time, however, a man gave him a needed criticism: “Nitramius, you do not commit yourself to your art. You want to do everything, yet you achieve almost nothing. You need to learn how to focus, instead of dreaming.” This was very true.

He knew he needed to leave home to achieve his ambitions, but with so little confidence in himself, he was afraid to. Needing to improve his image as an artist, he bought the black silk jacket. What happened soon after has already been told, and this was the end of Rawmios’ vision.

Now that the slate was clean, he knew his mission in life, to use his talents to help others, not just to glorify himself. Rawmios had to teach others, who have also been hurt with demonic lies, how to remake themselves. Those taught to hate themselves had to remake themselves, as Rawmios had, so they could now love themselves.

In his vision, Rawmios also came to realize much in the ouroboros, the Ten Errors, and the Cycle of Decay–much that hadn’t been seen before. He saw Three Unities: the Unity of Space–that a Higher Reason permeates everything, that all is one; the Unity of Time–the only real time is now, for past and future are human constructions; and the Unity of Action–all actions and concepts exist with their opposites close by, and these opposites’ relation to each other are that of a circular continuum, like the serpent biting its tail. Head and tail are opposites, thus showing the relationship.

This last idea was the most exciting one for Rawmios, for now he could justify the remaking of bad self-images into good ones, for the sake of his followers. This was how he could help humanity. He left his place of meditation, and he went into the city to teach any who would listen.

Commentary

All spiritual growth comes from realizing the lies and illusions we have about ourselves and the outside world. In Christianity, the Devil would have us believe, in our lust, greed, pride, and anger, that we’re animals–unworthy of having God’s love. In Hinduism, we’re deceived into not seeing the atman that links us with Brahman. In Buddhism, we don’t see our Buddha-nature, because of illusory maya, and because of the lie of having a self.

Rawmios’ vision of a divine spark of light in himself, giving him all of his talents, is not egotism in him. It is another mythical expression of this same joy, found in all religions, when we sense our closeness to the Divine. The cruelty of the abusive family, lying to the boy about his capacities, giving him a pejorative name, and restricting his movement all symbolize how all of us, born into an illusory material world, fail to see the unities underneath all the differences perceived by the senses. Seeing these unities, we all find our spark of light, our inner greatness.

In reading this story, one must wonder if, again, there was a common mythical root from which it and the legendary life of the Buddha came. The poem below again expresses, in visual form, the erasing of illusions that cause sadness, to be replaced by truths that bring happiness.

Eyes^^^^^^^^^shut,
………….we do………….
…….not see what…….
…ails……………….us….

Erased,^^^^^^^^^^^

…………………………..ills
…..can be replaced…..

Souls^^^^^^^^^with
open^^^^^^^^^eyes
……………go to………….
what………………….lies
…….in lands joyous….

The Tanah–Beginnings, Chapter Seven

[The following is the eighth of many posts–here is the first, here is the second, here is the third, here is the fourth, here is the fifth, here is the sixth, and here is the seventh–about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

The ten precepts were indeed relaxed in the land of Spirus–too relaxed, in the opinion of a man named Lorenzos. He was a soldier in Spirus’ army, and he had a wife, Maryas, and two sons, Reynholdos and Ottos. The boys were born several years after their mother and father left Spirus to settle in the land of Canudos, which was north of Spirus.

Lorenzos left Spirus out of distaste for the country’s moral laxity, as he saw it. He was troubled by a need to have the highest ethical standards possible, without reaching the excesses of Puritos. In search of answers, Lorenzos meditated diligently. One day, he had a vision.

He saw a large serpent biting its own tail. Underneath was a sign that read:

THIS IS THE WAY THE WORLD GOES

Then Lorenzos’ eyes followed the body of the serpent from its tail to its head. When the vision disappeared, he had an answer to his problem.

The Ten Errors would be interpreted no less severely than this: we journey to the serpent’s brain and eyes, but avoid its nose and teeth. This means that reason and vision are the ideal, but indulgence in appetite, sensual pleasure, and violence causes self-destruction. Thus, Mad Thinking is lustful, violent thinking; Being Dazed by Images is indulgence in spectacles of lewdness; Scurrilous Language is obscene language, but harsh words are necessary to correct a child’s wayward behaviour; and family harmony is maintained by strict loyalty to one’s parents.

Spirus would never accept the severity of Lorenzos’ interpretation, and his vision of the serpent inspired another idea: those who migrate grow stronger. That is, one leaves the old way of life to start a new one elsewhere, like passing beyond the serpent’s bitten tail to its biting head, passing from weakness to strength. Therefore, he and Maryas went to Canudos, and had their sons there, also.

Lorenzos applied his philosophy with especial strictness on Reynholdos, since he was the first-born son. Reynholdos, though, thought of his father as if he were a mad dog from all his fierceness; indeed, Reynholdos imagined himself almost sacrificed for his father’s philosophy. Still, he never complained, nor was he embittered. He admired his father’s ideals and vision so much that he carried on the same philosophy with his own children, not altering an article of it. Lorenzos had had the revelation of the serpent; Reynholdos had had none. Who was he to amend his father’s wisdom?

Believing Canudos to be the land in which his father’s wisdom would flourish, Reynholdos would stay there, teaching his father’s philosophy to all; and he married a woman, Lizas, who had migrated to Canudos from Angulos with her mother. He and Lizas had three children: two sons, Reynholdos II, and Gionos; and Catyas, a daughter. They were very happy together for nine years.

Then Reynholdos begot another son by Lizas.

His name was Nitramius. Lizas chose the name, for it means “alien.” Indeed, this is how she saw her new son, for she had not wanted any more children after her daughter, Catyas. Reynholdos was indifferently happy about a new son, for in his mind, the more children he had, the happier a father he was. Lizas, however, was irritated at having to suffer through nine months of discomfort, all to have a child she’d never wanted. Nitramius’ siblings were born the one close after the other, in yearly succession; but Nitramius himself came five years after Catyas.

Though Lizas was annoyed with this new son, she looked into the eyes of the newborn babe and felt a mother’s love. Thus she loved and hated him. Out of these conflicting feelings came an unnatural urge to dominate the boy. Having worked as a nurse for many years, she was acquainted with matters of illness (her mind was also haunted by these matters). Seeing mildly erratic behaviour in the boy, and ignoring his prodigious intelligence, she told the family that Nitramius was feeble-minded. His siblings, naturally jealous of the attention he was getting, eagerly believed their mother, and hated the boy all the more.

They were relentlessly cruel to the boy, and his mother indulged them, for she wanted Nitramius to be timid. He thought of his family, and most of the people of Canudos, as mad dogs, for the neighbours of his family were no less cruel when they saw his family’s cruelty.

Nitramius ws artistic and intellectual, but his family ridiculed his ideas, calling them childish fantasies. Though they despised him, he refused to despise himself. As a young man, he once bought himself a beautiful, long, black silk jacket. It was expensive, though, and his family was angry with him for buying what he could not afford. Creditors came after him, and his brothers beat him for his extravagance. They threw him in a ditch, and left him for dead.

Instead of returning home, Nitramius tended to his injuries himself, and when he was well enough to move about, he used what money he had to find transportation out of Canudos. His travels took him to the land of Nawaitos, to the east of Canudos. In Nawaitos, he became a teacher, and quickly paid off his creditors.

Though at first Nitramius had difficulty adapting to his new home, he soon found himself able to feel as though he was one of the locals, despite how obviously different he looked as a foreigner. He met a girl there, they fell in love, and got married. They would not have children, though, for Nitramius was afraid that he would be as bestial to them as his own family had been to him. He saw the evil in his family, and he wanted the line to end.

The notion of his family flourishing in a great nation was agreeable to him, though, and his reputation as a teacher, philosopher, and singer grew as well. When seen in his black silk jacket, he was always approached with questions. With a new family, a new country, and a new-found respect, he could fashion his identity anew. If his family thought he was dead, he could consider them dead, too.

With a new identity came a new name. Tiring of the feelings of loneliness and isolation he got from being called “Nitramius,” now he would call himself “Rawmios,” meaning “on a high hill.”

The memories of his cruel family–his distant father, his lying mother, and his violent siblings–still gave him pain, though; and when he wished to start artistic projects–music, plays, poetry–he had few resources. Still, Rawmios used these shortcomings to gain the sympathy of the people of Nawaitos and beyond; for he would use his example to show how others who suffer can escape and thrive. Thus, in helping others, he helped himself.

Commentary

The ouroboros, perhaps borrowed from the Midgard Serpent of Norse myth, is used here as a symbol of the dialectical relationship between all opposites. It’s expressed here so perfectly: one extreme, as it were, biting the other, and every point in between is part of a continuum coiled in a circle. Such is eternity, and the yin/yang-like relationship of all duality. Neither Lorenzos nor Reynholdos Sr. could see that symbolism, though Rawmios would.

People do get stronger from migrating. Lorenzos and Rawmios did. Lorenzos’ weakness was in thinking he could be severe and avoid violence, but he didn’t avoid it…nor did his son or grandsons. Reynholdos Sr. couldn’t see the harm in his father’s thinking. Rawmios could; he wisely left family and country, and he thrived.

His father’s error was seeing no error in parents. Rawmios could see parental error, and thus he shunned parenthood. The error of seeing faultlessness is an example of the relationship between opposites in the ouroboros–truth in paradox.

Rawmios’ wearing of a long, black, silk jacket suggests the possibility of a mythical ancestor of a myth as also expressed in the Biblical story of Joseph and his ‘coat of many colours.’ Below is another poem presented with visual cues to reinforce meaning.

People who stay
in their country, like grass,
with the wind sway together.
They grow very little
and move even less. But the…one

who won’t lay
himself down–like an ass
that leaves slack its short tether
and idly will whittle
away its few years–but will…………….run

far away
from his nation, its crass
souls, and familiar weather
–his patience grows brittle–
will elsewhere shine, bright as the………………………sun.

The Tanah–Beginnings, Chapter Five

[The following is the sixth of many posts–here is the first, here is the second, here is the third, here is the fourth, and here is the fifth–about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

When Queen Vita, her son, Prince Invidios, and his brothers and sisters arrived in their boat on the shores of the port city of Logos in the land of Nodos, they saw a most astonishing thing. It was night-time, and many members of the population of the city were seen to be walking in their sleep. The banished former queen and her sons and daughters came closer to the local inhabitants of the town, and her family could hear the Logosians talking in their sleep, too.

The sleepwalkers were reasoning amongst themselves, why they should have the right to things they had been denied by their king, a most repressive ruler named Despotes. The foreign family felt a strong urge to meet this king and his family, since they were used to the company of royalty. Invidios had a second reason for wanting to meet King Despotes: having been exiled by a similarly tyrannical ruler, King Patros, he wanted to kill the Logosian king, and rule in his stead.

The exiled royals slept in a humble inn for the night, having difficulty adjusting to such meagre accommodations. In the morning, the innkeeper gave them directions to the king’s palace. On their way there, they spoke to some of the Logosians and learned why their king was so severe: an oracle predicted his murder “by one in his own land” (by this, it was interpreted to mean, murdered by one of his own people). The severe laws were meant to protect the king.

Vita and her family also learned that the people of this city had a special talent for reasoning: the king himself was born in Logos, and was considered peerless in his gift for philosophical argumentation (or sophistry, as many of the people of Nodos would prefer to say). All of the people of the land of Nodos were famed for their roving curiosity and searching thirst for knowledge. Vita’s family were most impressed with these Nodosian traits.

When they reached the palace, her family were warmly welcomed, for it was obvious to all, from the elegance of their clothing, that they were also royalty. King Despotes showed an uncharacteristic openness to Invidios and his family, for the king assumed that no foreigner was destined to kill him. A sumptuous feast was prepared for all the nobles, local and foreign, that night; Vita, Invidios, and their family enjoyed the first meal of the sort they had been accustomed to since their banishment from Vestis. As he enjoyed his food and wine, and gave dissembling smiles to the king in their conversations at the great dinner table, Invidios busily planned out the murder of Despotes in his mind, for killing had become easy for him.

On the way to the palace earlier that day, Invidios had met a local apothecary and bought a potent poison. During the carousing after dinner, he put drops of the poison into the wine glasses of all the royal family when their backs were turned. By the next morning, when it was discovered by all that the king and his heirs were dead, Invidios and his brothers staged a coup. Its success came from Invidios’ ability to justify his regicide in a rousing oration. He told the people of Nodos that, under his rule, they were now all free of the tyranny of the dead king!

Invidios, as the new king of Nodos, quickly began to replace the harsh old decrees with newer, lenient ones. He easily won the love of the people for this, and their new-found freedoms caused their sleepwalking to end. King Invidios wanted a world combining the license of the rule of his father, Agnos, with the cultural sophistication of Vestis. The Nodosians, with their love of wisdom and yearning for new freedoms, would eagerly embrace this blend of ideas.

The sexes were equal, father-kin was replaced with mother-kin, and multiple lovers were available to all. Being naked in public was permitted, and in such a hot climate as Nodos was in summer, many–particularly the young and physically attractive–enjoyed this freedom. The surviving nobles of Nodos lay with Invidios’ sisters, and their children grew gigantically tall and proud.

King Invidios enjoyed his new power, but not its burdens, for scores of people came to him complaining of various injustices they’d experienced. It was incumbent on the king to be the judge of numerous trials, and he grew weary of it. Becoming increasingly indolent, he decreed that a crime would no longer be deemed so if good reasons could be given for committing it. He called this principle “going beyond good and evil.” This would reduce his burdens, but corrupt his entire country. (It was during this time, six years since he’d become king of Nodos, that Vita died. She was given a lavish funeral.)

Among the offences first to be made legal by justifying argument were these: relieving oneself in public places, on the grass and roads (public toilets were insufficient, and making enough for all of Nodos would cause a rise in taxes); and starting fires, including burning trees and grass (for warmth during the bitterly cold winters).

From this absurd reasoning, justification for worse vices ensued: greed was commended if it drove commerce and improved the economy; lying was permitted, for Invidios was dishonest in showing friendship to Despotes, and for a Nodosian to lie was to honour his king and saviour from tyranny; adultery was permitted, for Invidios gave everyone sexual freedom the very day he became king; murder was permitted if the victim gravely offended his killer, or if the killing was motivated by envy (besides, to kill was to emulate Invidios’ killing of Despotes, and this act would thus honour the new king); stealing was allowed, if one was too poor to feed one’s family without doing so (besides, Invidios stole Despotes’ crown); employers were allowed never to give their workers a day of rest, for continuous business would improve the economy; sons and daughters were permitted to be unfilial to their parents, and vice versa, if they had been mistreated; scurrilous language was allowed if one had been sufficiently offended or wronged; being hypnotized by images was considered good, because it is aesthetically pleasing, especially after much hard work; finally, the beliefs of the mad were tolerated on the grounds that they were “alternative perspectives.”

The result of these new freedoms was, of course, social chaos. The streets and parks reeked of excrement; forest fires were rampant; property was destroyed or stolen; honesty was rare, in business or among marriages; the blood of the murdered flooded the land; family discord was common; workers felt like slaves; speech was rarely civil; greed was deemed good; and madmen were the new philosophers.

One Nodosian, named Medias, lived with his wife and their three sons, each of whom had his own wife and family. They lived on a high hill, away from the fetid filth and fiery wildness of passion of all the other Nodosians. This family of farmers was a wise one. They lived quietly, humbly and peacefully–happily isolated from the wickedness of their compatriots.

One night, Medias dreamt of a huge wave of water submerging all of Nodos. He knew this was a portentous dream from Priff, the water Crim, for in Medias’ wisdom, he knew of a Reason higher than that of King Invidios, a Reason that reacts to excess with opposing excess. He said to his family, “The flood will clean away the foul filth of our corrupt nation; it will quench Crim Nevil’s fire and wash away the blood of Nodos’ victims. It will also kill all the wicked. So that we, too, are not killed, we must build a boat large enough to hold all of us and our animals.”

“Should we not warn the rest of the people?” asked his wife.

“They will not listen,” Medias said. “They err as unconsciously as they did when they walked in their sleep under Despotes’ rule. The first king was too rigid; this king is too lax. We need a ruler who follows a middle path.”

When the Nodosians saw Medias and his family building their boat high on the hill, far from the water, they thought him mad. Still, his madness was tolerated as an alternative wisdom…and it was.

A huge tidal wave approached the port of Logos, and the people with all their reasoning ability could not save themselves, for in their licentiousness they wandered all their days in oblivion, as if still sleepwalking. They were the first to be submerged, and the rest of Nodos followed quickly after. Medias and his family had finished making the boat just in time, and they and their animals were all safe inside it when the water had reached the top of the hill.

As the boat floated on the water, Medias and his family looked out the windows to see the drowned men and women of Nodos, many of whose bodies moved under the water as if they were on the land, walking in their sleep. They even saw the bodies of King Invidios, his sisters, and their huge sons and daughters.

After several weeks, the water receded, and the boat lay conveniently close to the hill where their farm was. Even more fortunate for them was how their farm was never touched with the water. Medias thanked Priff in his prayers. As for the rest of Nodos, all the excrement and blood were washed away, the fires were quenched, and the wickedness of the land was gone. Now the family could start anew.

Medias started with some new moral precepts, neither lax nor severe. These ten things were to be avoided:

THE TEN ERRORS

  1. Mad thinking
  2. Being dazed by images
  3. Scurrilous language
  4. All work and no rest
  5. Family fighting
  6. Murder
  7. Adultery
  8. Theft
  9. Lying
  10. Greed

These were written down and remembered throughout the generations, their meaning and interpretation extensively commented on.

Commentary

The many absurdities in this story, as well as its obvious derivations (a mix of flood myth with Moses-like moral code), show it to be allegory, not history. Is the land of Nod–Nodos–a land of nodding off to sleep or of wandering–the fusion being sleepwalking? Do such a land’s people err without knowing what they do? Is this not the essence of a wicked society?

Its kings are wicked: indeed, all leaders are so when they are too severe or too permissive. The wicked often have reasons for what they do, but these reasons do not excuse them for their wrongs. With the excesses of a tyrant come a clamour for reform, for freedom. When the freedoms from the new ruler cause chaos, decadence, putrefaction, and the fires of unruly passion, purifying waters must wash the filth away. Only rule in moderation will be a lasting rule.

Note the shifts from extreme reason to extreme unreason. This is yet another manifestation of those waves that go from one extreme to the other, a recurring theme throughout the Tanah.

Below is yet another of those concrete poems, translated and rendered as best as we scholars could to approximate the desired visual effect while retaining the meaning as accurately as possible.

Heads
of state must not grip tightly
their
poor
people; or
they’ll nightly
voice……..their
hatred…………in
their…………..dreams,
and…………………march
on………………………..kings
in……………………………killing
teams.

Heads
of state must not hold lightly
laws
and
morals; or
else, nightly,
thoughts….that
should………remain
in…………………dreams
will……………………..crawl
and prey with……..brute extremes.

Heads
of state
must ponder rightly
middle…….rule;……….so
men………………can………….nightly
lie…………………….in………………..bed
with…………………pleasant………….dreams,
and………walk
with……………thoughts
that………………………have
calm………………………themes.

The Tanah–Beginnings, Chapter Four

[The following is the fifth of many posts–here is the first, here is the second, here is the third, and here is the fourth–about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

Years went by, and King Patros’s son, Prixos, became a man. He would be the king’s rightful heir and successor…except other members of the royal family would have had things otherwise.

The king loved Prixos dearly, and indulged the youth to excess. When the family rode in their chariots across the island of Vestis to see their subjects, Patros and Prixos were always in the first chariot, while Queen Vita and her sons and daughters had to follow behind in their chariots. So had it been for twenty years, along with numerous other privileges that the king and his son could enjoy, all at the expense of Vita and her children.

One day, she complained of this to Invidios, her sullen first-born son. “Though I do not regret ending your father’s feckless rule, I can no longer endure the injustice of my new king’s sway. Before, I could roam about freely; now, I must be escorted everywhere either by the king or by his ten eunuch guards. Before, I could enjoy as many lovers as Agnos did with his thirty concubines; now, Patros’s eunuchs guard me against a pleasure he regularly enjoys, while Agnos’ concubines–once honoured for their love and devotion to the former king–are now disgraced as naked whores, to be enjoyed by any common man on the street for a small sum of money. Those women are never even given the money; their procurers take it all. Many of them have grown old and withered, and they are still not given the dignity of clothing. All of them would rather kill themselves than go on as they do, but none has a knife.

“As for the rest of us women–me and your sisters included–we live lives hardly less wretched than the former concubines. There is a wealth of learning in the libraries and universities, but our sex is discouraged from touching it. Though society is improved with such erudition, during Agnos’ rule the men were as ignorant as the women, and thus our sex at least had no reason to envy men. Now we do. We are disenfranchised and scorned.

“And what is the king’s reason? He asserts that it was I, and all the women of Gymnos (this island’s former name, recall), who debauched King Agnos. King Patros says that the female form, when unclothed, tempts men to lust and to look away from nobler pursuits; but it was Agnos’ decree that everyone, nude, should freely procreate. Though I never questioned the wisdom of his command, I did not inspire it, either.

“I swear to you, my son, King Patros has done us all wrong, including you and your brothers, by instituting father-kin throughout Vestis, thus denying you your natural right of succession. While I prefer the maturity of our society now to the infantile rule of your father (assuming he was your natural father), we must amend our society to embrace full equality for the sexes. The only way to ensure that will be for you to succeed Patros as king, not his son Prixos, whom I now disown for your sake. I am too old to bear the king any more sons, so if you kill Prixos, Patros will have no choice but to accept you as his heir. This will set a precedent in the law that will force all of Vestis to return to mother-kin, and women will have their rights restored. Will you kill the boy, Invidios?”

“Yes, Mother,” Invidios said. “With pleasure. I’ve always hated Prince Prixos. Not only is the treatment of Vestis’ women unjust, but also religion is practiced unfairly, and the latter is the doing of Prixos. He and his father (never mine!) have instituted the worship of a Sky-father god, to supplant our Earth-mother goddess! This god is to have animals sacrificed to him, emasculated as my wretched father was! The prince justifies this cruelty to animals by saying it signifies the death of a man’s animal nature in order to grow in the spirit. He has always scorned my cooking of vegetables as a sacrifice to please our Earth-mother goddess. When I explain how the cooking signifies the heating of the passions and instincts to inspire a man to action, the prince scoffs at me. I will no longer endure his arrogance! I will gladly kill him–for both of us, Mother.”

The next day, Invidios went with Prixos to sacrifice a goat at the top of a lonely hill. Though he told Prixos he was willing to embrace the new Sky-father god religion, Invidios found a thick branch, broken off a nearby tree, and waited for the prince to turn his back. He then beat the prince to death, and buried the body. “I killed a man to save your life,” he said to the goat before setting it free.

A farmer witnessed the murder, informed the king, and showed him where the body was. Denying her son’s guilt, Queen Vita demanded that King Patros acknowledge Invidios as his prince and successor to the throne. The king, knowing her tricks, refused this demand, and banished not only Invidios from Vestis, but his brothers and sisters as well. He even repudiated his queen, and announced his plan to marry a young princess from the land of Pudios, a neighbouring country of Gnosius, and part of its empire. She would bear him sons to succeed him.

The former queen and her sons and daughters, all disgraced, sailed on a boat away from the beloved island of their birth, never to return on pain of death. The boat eventually reached shore, and the family settled in the land of Nodos.

Over the years, King Patros, with his bashful new queen and his new sons by her, enacted new laws, even stricter than before, on women. Now they were forbidden any form of education, whereas before it had merely been discouraged. Women were warned to be silent in matters of politics, for fear of a repeat of the incident with Vita and Invidios.

Here we see the cycles of life once again: when the victims of injustice act too rashly, pushing for change without due organization and preparation, acting before the time is ripe, their own impulsiveness turns against them, and they suffer all the worse for it.

Commentary

One will note parallels between the Invidios and Prixos narrative and the Cain and Abel story. These two myths seem to have a common ancestor, one based on the foundation of a city, requiring a human sacrifice so the dead one’s spirit will be a protector of the new city. Another example of such a myth is that of Romulus and Remus, the former having killed the latter on the foundation of the city of Rome. One can also see in the Invidios and Prixos narrative, as in the Cain and Abel story, an allegory of the conflict between nomadic shepherds and settled farmers.

In any case, the story is trying to teach the moral of avoiding rashness in making changes of any revolutionary sort. If done too quickly, without sufficient planning and care, one may find one’s plans backfiring and resulting in a much worse oppression than before. Thus we see the wavelike movement from injustice to a far too sharp return to justice, then a swing right back to the original injustice, or an even worse kind.

Here’s another, admittedly awkward, translation of one of the ancient poems, again with the visual effect, preserved as best as my team of researchers could do:

Throwing

sticks

too hard

only makes them

return harder.

A soft

toss

suffices.

My Short Story, ‘Together,’ Published in the Anthology, ‘Piece By Piece’

I have a short story called ‘Together’ that has been published in this anthology, Piece by Piece: An Anti-Valentine’s Day Collection, Short Stories, Poetry, and Prose, from Dark Moon Rising Publications. It’s available on Kindle ($419) and Paperback ($15.99) on Amazon. It will soon be available on Godless and the Wide Link.

My story is about a young woman with a drug habit who is, on and off, being possessed by the ghost of someone who has recently killed himself, over her having broken his heart. Or is she? Is she just hallucinating, and is she the one whose heart has been broken from having been abandoned so many times in her life, driving her to drug abuse and madness?

Other great writers with poetry and prose in this anthology include C.S Anderson, Devin Anderson, Alison Armstrong, Pixie Bruner, Sonya Kay Bruns, Jacqueline Chou, Michael J. Ciaraldi, J. Rocky Colavito, Dawn Colclasure, Linda M. Crate, Tony Daly, Quinn Rowan Dex, Ursula Dirks, H.L. Dowless, Julie Dron, A.M. Forney, Michael Fowler, Lindsey Goddard, Megan Guilliams, Kasey Hill, Bryce Jenkins, Emily Jones, Toshiya Kamei, Katherine Kerestman, Joseph Lewis, LindaAnn LoSchiavo, J.C. Maçek III, Brianna Malotke, Xtina Marie. Shane Morin, Jason Morton, Sergio Palumbo, Pip Pinkerton, Rick Powell, John Reti, Kevin Robles, Bissme S, Cassandra O’Sullivan Sachar. Matt Scott, ReNait Suka, Robert Sullivan, Michael Errol Swaim, Rob Tannahill, Malachi Edwin Vethamani, Jacek Wilkos. amd Amanda Worthington

Please come check out this collection of great writing. You’ll love it! 🙂

A Poem of Mine Published in the ‘Sleeve of Hearts’ Anthology

I have a poem, ‘Apples,’ published in the Sleeve of Hearts poetry anthology, presented by Weird Wide Web and edited by Lindsey Goddard. It’s published on Amazon, but if you want to show solidarity with the Amazon strikers, you can also find the book on Lulu.

Other great poets in the anthology include R.J. Allen, Devin M. Anderson, Alison Armstrong, L. Bachman, Erin Banks, A.J. Brown, Pixie Bruner, Anton Cancre, J. Rocky Colavito, Dawn Colclasure, Kirsten Noelle Craig, Rebecca Cuthbert, Josh Darling, Dawn DeBraal, Loki DeWitt, Gabrielle Faust, Ian Gielen, Reyna Gillette, Jyl Glenn, Lindsey Goddard, Simone Goddard, Sophie Goddard, Megan Guilliams, Sheila Henry, Kasey Hill, Josephine Jasper, Bryce Jenkins, J.L. Lane, Suzie Lockhart, J.C. Macek III, Mark Mackey, Benzo Monroe, Jonathan Moon, Shane David Morin, Jason Morton, Conner Muddiman, Nora B. Peevy, Rick Powell, Rie Sheridan Rose, Sumiko Saulson, Leigh Savage, Elodie Shayne, Raz T. Slasher, Tommy B. Smith, John Claude Smith, Judith Sonnet, Kurt Swaim, Michael Errol Swaim, Rob Tannahill, Jezzy Wolfe, and Amanda Worthington.

Here is what some people are saying about the anthology:

Go get your copy of this great poetry book today! 🙂

The Tanah–Beginnings, Chapter One

[The following is the second of many posts–here is the first–about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

  1. Waves everywhere, that from the lowest, rise to the highest, then fall to the lowest, rise high, and fall low, everywhere, always, these are Cao–a never-ending ocean.
  2. Cao is one; the Pluries are many. The one breaks up into the many, all of which then drop into the ocean.
  3. How does the one become the many, and how do the many become one?
  4. The Crims make Cao the Pluries, and they make the Pluries Cao.
  5. One Crim, Nevil, is fire, heating another Crim, Priff, water, into a third Crim, Weleb, air. Nevil leaves, thickening Weleb back into Priff, then freezing Priff into the last Crim, Drofurb, which is earth, or stone, or ice.
  6. The fire of Nevil also brings the light of day, Dis, and the heat of desire, Hador. When Nevil leaves, what remains is the cool or cold of calm, Calt, and the darkness of night, Noct.
  7. These eternal flows that move everywhere–up high and down low and back up, from one to many and back, from cool to hot and back to cold, from water to hot air and back to cold and ice and stone, from the dark of night to the light of day and back to black, from calm to desire and back to calm–all of these are Cao, all are the Pluries.
  8. The waves of Cao flow from Drofurb to Priff, and from Priff to Weleb by the brightness and heat of Nevil’s fire of desire, then Nevil fades away, bringing Weleb back to Priff, then Priff to Drofurb, darkening, cooling, and calming. The waves move Noct to Dis, and back to Noct. The waves flow from Calt to Hador and back to Calt.
  9. These ups and downs, highs and lows, heating and cooling, desire and calm, light and dark, night and day, ice to water to vapour to water to ice,…these are what is all of the world.

[The text breaks off here.]

Commentary

The above verses express not so much a beginning of the universe as the beginning of an understanding of its basic building blocks. The poetry in the original language has a rhythm that evokes the rushing waves of the universal ocean in a way that English cannot effectively render, unfortunately. We can get only a basic sense of the pendulum swings of the primordial opposites: up and down, light and dark, night and day, solid to liquid to gas, passion and calm.

As explained in the translator’s introduction, the imagery of the verses give off that sense of the dialectical thesis, negation, and sublation as given in the undulating movements of t, s, n, s, t…etc. The purpose of this emphasis on the wavelike movements of all opposites is to give the reader a sense that these undulations are the foundation of everything–the secrets of the universe.

The Alien Buddha’s Best of 2024 is Published!

The Alien Buddha’s Best of 2024, which includes Chapter Eight of my novella, The Targeter, is now published on Amazon.

Chapter Eight of my novella is a reverie of the titular character, ‘The Targeter,’ actually named Sid Arthur Gordimer, who is drunk and high on a combination of marijuana, ecstasy, and ketamine. His thoughts drift back and forth in his reverie of being a prince in a mansion watching half-naked strippers dancing to electronic music in a party, then of being in a royal palace with Indian music. 

His parents, the king and queen, are pressuring him into taking on the responsibilities of the crown…but of course, this is all just the reverie of a drunk, stoned man. Outside of Sid’s apartment, in the real world that he’s trying to escape with booze and drugs, a war is going on. Bombs and gunfire can be heard outside. The war has the potential of going nuclear, and he in his despair cannot face it sober.

He knows he’s no saint, and no prince. He’s a goner.

Please check out this collection of the work of so many talented writers (check the list of names on the back cover, if you can enlarge it sufficiently). And please check out my novella. If you like Chapter Eight, you’ll love the rest of it! 🙂

The Tanah–Translator’s Introduction

[The following is the first of many posts about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

The manuscripts translated here were discovered in archaeological digs in northeastern Europe ten years before this writing. My colleagues and I have since been at work deciphering and translating this ancient text, a laborious, painstaking task that is still far from finished. These manuscripts, fragments full of lacunae, constitute only a portion of what has been unearthed; the translation of more texts is still underway, and ongoing digs just southwest of the Baltic region are expected to yield still more texts. This current publication is meant only as a taste of what is to come.

The manuscripts were found among the ruins, relics, and skeletons of an ancient Slavonic tribe; the writings are dated at about the first century CE. We say the tribe was Slavonic, but the language is far removed from that. In fact, the written script is unlike any known anywhere on Earth; one of our translating team even joked that The Tanah, as these writings are collectively known, is the product of extraterrestrials!

Now, the language seems outlandish, but the cultural attitudes expressed in that language reveal The Tanah‘s undoubtedly terrestrial origins. As one reads through its chapters and verses, one discovers the usual ancient, pre-scientific assumptions and prejudices, which skew and limit the expression of The Tanah‘s otherwise formidable wisdom.

The writers of The Tanah assume, for instance, that women’s main use of its spells should be to augment their physical beauty, help them find a husband, and acquire power and influence through ‘feminine wiles.’ Since its spells are of a paradoxical, dialectical nature, women are advised to use them to gain power through taking on a ‘submissive role.’ Curious.

Still, a surprising thing about The Tanah is that, in spite of these ancient presumptions about the world (a flat Earth in a geocentric universe, the chauvinistic belief in the superiority and centrality of the tribe owning The Tanah), there are also ideas about the world that, interpreted metaphorically, seem uncannily to anticipate certain insights in modern physics.

Examples of such scientific anticipations include what the texts call “Cao,” the undulating, unifying oneness of the entire universe, and the “Pluries,” the same atomic unifying reality that Cao is, but expressed in the form of an endless shower of particles, coming down like rain, hail, snow–some kind of precipitation. Since The Tanah is all to be read as allegory and metaphor, rather than as literal history, Cao and the Pluries could be understood to symbolize particle/wave duality.

Now, despite all of this apparent predicting of scientific ideas millennia ahead of their time, the texts are still essentially poetry, using the most vivid and striking imagery. Our translation does the best it can here, but as with any, much is inevitably lost in translation. There are nuances and multiple meanings in so many of the words of the original language that their ‘equivalents’ in English–or in any language, for that matter–can never bring out. Indeed, to cover all of those extra meanings of each word would require commentaries several times the size of the original texts and their translations.

The word “Cao” alone means so many things at once. “Oneness,” “infinity,” “universe,” “sea,” “ocean,” “waves,” “fundamental,” “void,” “chasm,” “nothing,” “everything,” and “all,” among many others. Similarly, “Pluries” can mean “particles,” “atoms,” “rain,” “precipitation,” “tears,” “snow,” “hail,” “sand,” “dust,” “ants,” “germs,” “plurality,” etc. The language these texts is written in is a most eccentric, idiosyncratic one. In reading any image used in the poetry and narratives, one must pause a moment and consider every possible association to be made with said image, just to begin to grasp the meaning of it in its fullness and totality.

If the reader finds it jarring to know that “Cao” can mean “nothing” and “everything” at the same time, he or she should bear in mind that this mystical concept has dialectical, yin-and-yang-like qualities. The imagery of the waves of the ocean that are associated with Cao suggest a dialectical shifting up and down, back and forth, between all the pairs of opposites, including every level between those crests and troughs, thus to embrace all things in the universe. This is an everything so comprehensive that it even includes nothing.

Cao represents that everything as understood as a oneness, whereas the Pluries represent everything as a plurality. Attempts at etymologies of these two mystical words suggest that “Cao” may be cognate with a composite of Greek Chaos and the Chinese Tao, though this latter derivation seems a bit of a stretch, given how far removed geographically Chinese culture and language were from where these texts were found, as well as the fact that “Tao” is modern Mandarin, not ancient Chinese. Still, Cao has both the mystical properties of Chaos and the Tao, so while the associations are probably just coincidental, they’re also fortuitous and appropriate.

Similarly, a speculative etymology of “Pluries” implies that the word is cognate with a combination of the Latin pluere, from which we also get the French word pleuvoir (“rain”), and the Latin pluralis, plures, and pluria (“plural”). Again, though, as with our speculative derivations of “Cao,” the surety of these etymologies is rather shaky and limited, given the geographic region from which we’ve found these texts. One would expect a Slavonic tribe to use a language more directly connected with actual Slavic roots. Then again, what is so fascinating about these texts is how mysterious they are: is this language an alien one after all? The written script is unlike any found on this Earth, as mentioned above.

So anyway, Cao and the Pluries are the source of all creation in the universe, as a unity and as a plurality. Not only does the natural world come from these two sources, but the supernatural, and all of magic, derive from them, too, hence the inclusion of many spells, which invoke Cao and the Pluries, and their creative power.

Cao and the Pluries aren’t the only ‘deities’ (if that’s what they are to be called) that are invoked in the many magic spells of The Tanah. Four particularly important ‘deities,’ or rather ‘basic forces,’ which is a better translation of dvami, are what the manuscripts call the “Crims” (krimso). These are the four elements: Priff (water, the first and most natural element to emerge from the watery Cao and Pluries), Nevil (fire, the first spark of passion and desire [Hador], causing the light of day [Dis] to emerge from the darkness of night [Noct]), Weleb (air, a thinning and diluting of all matter to near nothingness), and Drofurb (earth/stone, a return to the condensing of matter, yet going beyond liquid to a freezing [Calt] and solidifying of it).

Note how the Crims can be paired into dialectical opposites, with Priff and Weleb, then Nevil and Drofurb. The first two are everything (i.e., near Cao) and nothing (or near nothing). The latter two are the heat of desire vs. the cool of calmness. These two pairs of opposites move from the one to the other, then back again, like the crests and troughs of the universal ocean that is Cao itself, dialectical shifts from one extreme to the other.

The ensuing narratives also demonstrate a cyclical, dialectical shift from one extreme to its opposite, then back again, with every intermediate point expressed, too, in a shifting back and forth between opposites of many, varying manifestations. A journey out of slavery and into freedom, a mass exodus of a people out of an oppressive nation in which the masters pursue the slaves, reminds one of the Moses story.

A discussion of how to use the spells ethically versus unethically comes next. One must exercise discipline and responsibility in using the magic, for good, knowledge, and enlightenment; warnings are given against using the spells for selfish ends.

Again, in The Preaching and Proverbs, it is advised to use restraint and to be responsible in applying the magic. There is an urgent sense that warnings must be given repeatedly in The Tanah against using the magic for evil, since the writers correctly anticipate their warnings to go unheeded most of the time.

I find it fortuitous that the name of this collection of manuscripts sounds, however unintentionally and unwittingly, like a double pun, first on the Tanakh, or Hebrew Bible, with its laws and injunctions as to its moral use, and second on the Buddhist concept, given in the Pali tongue, as taņhā (“thirst,” “desire”). There’s no reason to see an etymology of tanah coming from such divergent languages, of course; but imagining such wordplay in the two words seems apt, in spite of such an improbable intention, given The Tanah‘s dialectical shifts back and forth between ethical and unethical uses.

The Lyrics are a series of verses that are magical incantations for the purpose of achieving a vast array of fulfillments of personal desires and wishes. Many of them involve causing harm to people in various ways, such as capturing souls and imprisoning them in jars, or when releasing them, they become ravenous beasts. Others involve various ways of taking control of people’s bodies, or taking a soul out of one body and putting it into another. Since such spells can be, and typically are, used in abusive ways, it is easy to see why so much is said elsewhere in The Tanah about refraining from the temptation to use these spells.

The Amores are a series of spells meant to aid the user who is in love, or who lusts after another…or many others. These spells aid in such things as maintaining youthful beauty, shaping one’s body into a more pleasing form, ensuring pleasant body odours in all the crevices of the body, preventing pregnancy or the transmission of venereal diseases, and using mind control to manipulate a love object into loving one back.

Again, warnings are repeatedly made in The Tanah to be at least extremely careful in the use of these spells, if not to refrain from ever using them, since in the use of any of them, not only is there the risk of harming the object of the spell, there’s the risk of harming the user of the spells, too, in the form of bad karma.

One way the spells work is through achieving one goal by way of its opposite. The spells thus exploit the dialectical unity of opposites. So, for example, if a woman wishes to have absolute control over a man she loves, she can do so by, ironically, being excessively submissive to him. This tactic has been used many times throughout history according to The Tanah, usually by women, and the beauty of this use of the spells is that they won’t work karmically against the user, since he or she has already exploited that opposite that would otherwise come eventually to plague the user.

The key to understanding not just the magic spells, but the entire philosophy, mythology, and cosmology of The Tanah as a whole, is to grasp that the whole universe must maintain a sense of balance. If things shift one way, they must shift the other way sooner or later. Those who fail to understand this sense of balance are typically those who misuse the spells for selfish ends. The shifting out of, and then back into, balance by means of opposing directions is the basis of understanding the Troughs and Crests of history, dealt with in the section of The Tanah called “The Future.”

Troughs, when the waves of Cao are at their lowest, represent the bad times of history. Crests, Cao’s waves when at their highest, are history’s good times. The next two books, having these titles, deal with these prophecies of good and bad.

Since the good prophecies are grouped together, as are the bad prophecies, rather than arranging them as alternating with each other, it is difficult to know which prophecy–good or bad–represents the end of the world. And since, as has been noted above, these prophecies exist in the form of allegorical tales rather than straightforward narrative prose, it is even more difficult to tell if the tale representing the apocalypse is a happy or unhappy one.

There is also a group of apocryphal texts, ones of uncertain authority, but which have been considered wise and instructive for the responsible practitioner of magic. These are also allegorical tales.

Now, as a closing note, a discussion of the verse styles should be given, if only in passing, since only a thorough study of the ancient language, beyond the scope of this translation and commentary, can do justice to the goldmine of literary, poetic beauty of the writing, as well as the multiple and nuanced meanings that are sadly lost in translation, as noted above.

Indeed, our English translation inevitably obscures, for example, the muscular metric rhythms, which can only ever so occasionally be approximated in the English, though we’ve tried our best. As for the imagery, we’ve managed, more often than not, to be able to bring out its structured use, with regular patterns of thesis/negation/sublation, usually given in a wavelike pattern of t-s-n-s-t…and so on in the same way.

As for whether or not the user of the magic spells needs to worry about their potentially adverse effects, well, we translators haven’t seen such effects…not yet, anyway.

Garrison Mauer, PhD, Professor of Religious Studies, McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario, December 2024

‘The Devil’s Playground’ is Published!

The Devil’s Playground: A Horror Charity Anthology for Drug Addiction, by Dark Moon Rising Publications, is finally published on Amazon, in paperback and ebook forms! It will be published on Godless on December 8th.

My short story, ‘Serene,’ is one of the stories in the anthology. All proceeds donated will be for To Write Love On Her Arms, an organization to help people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide. The theme of all of these stories is drug addiction and its self-destructive effects. 

If one were to read this story as well as my story, ‘NIB,’ in the horror anthology Symptom of the Universe: a Horror Tribute Anthology to Black Sabbath, also from Dark Moon Rising Publications, one might find a number of similarities between the stories. There are crucial differences between them, though. In ‘NIB,’ the female drug dealer is in love with the narrating protagonist, who has a fear of sexual contact due to childhood trauma caused by sexual abuse, and he uses drugs to forget his pain. In ‘Serene,’ however, the female drug dealer is luring men into enjoying her drug, taking advantage of them while stoned, and deliberately killing them if they reject her love. Both stories, ultimately, are allegories on the seductive yet destructive nature of drug abuse.

Many other great authors have stories included in this anthology (check the pic at the top to see all of their names), so please, check it out! I’m sure you’ll love the stories, and you’ll be helping out an important cause! 🙂