Telling the Truth about Immortality III

Introduction

I think we’ve covered
the abstractions on what role
the immortal & the supernatural
can play in modern myth.
So, I’ll try not to re-explain myself
though,
I will be drawing
from those abstractions
for our current examples
& if I’ve been unclear previously
on the abstract potential
of these themes,
I hope these examples
will prove to illuminate
my prior meaning.

Let’s not, however,
put too much weight on our examples,
as they are examples
& examples alone,
& not to be taken as concrete guidelines
of genre, method, or style.

I will be continuing in the stylistic vein
of the last two pieces.
The space of the work is for play
it is unstable
& sometimes confusing
but never without intention.

You, the reader,
are tasked with differentiating
the hard logic from the whimsy,
& though they speak of each other
it should be clear
that some texts
are purposed to invoke
a shift in your emotion
or cognitive path
to the liking of
me, your author.

Morals of Chaos

Accepting
that immortals are supernatural
& myth’s are moral works
which utilize the supernatural,
then any moral work
which includes immortals
has a high likelihood of riding
under the banner of mythology.

With that in mind,
an immoral work
which includes the undying
cannot hope to be called mythology,
& has to settle for
Modern Literature
or
Video Game.

For that reason
& for our combined ease
I will be utilizing the institution of Myth
in name & function,
to reference the artistic environment
in which immortals,
are most commonly portrayed.

For this foremost
should be about Morality
& its artistic language
if only because Morality
is a product of the Mortal condition,
we can assume the immortal
is outside of the Mortal condition
& so
the borders of it’s Morality.

A.
The Moral has too long served
as an excuse for Mythologers
to abandon reason
in discussing the Immortal.

If we can deny the Immortal
it’s freedom from Morality
we can thusly apply
Mortal reason to it’s actions.

This results in the historical & present
framework of modern Myth.
i.e.

Some unlucky Mortal Man
draws the scorn of a raving Immortal

Our Immortal unleashes
some Supernatural device
to smite our Mortal Man

His farm is raised by fire
& he is turned into a dog
& escapes only to be shot
under the accusation of being ravenous
His body is struck by lightning
setting the whole woods ablaze

& every year around the same time
our immortal returns
with such disgust for the wretched humanity
that wronged him all those years ago
that he attempts to burn the forests again
and watches the rodents scurry away

& that is why we do controlled burns
to this very day

B.
When we remove the Immortal
from the clutches of Morality,
a different scene unfolds before the reader.

We lose the ability to assign Mortal Reason,
to their actions
& Our Myths
must find their Moral by some alternate route.
i.e.

Our Hero lives a fine life
got a farm, a couple of horses,
some dogs to keep out the rodents
a lovely wife
for whom he tenders every affection

They’re no trouble in town
their kids do well in school
keep their noses clean
& mind their ‘p’s & ‘q’s

They live in isolation
on a plain along the forest
nearest neighbor is 60 miles away
visitors are few & far between

When our Hero purchased the little farmhouse
it had been abandoned for almost 50 years
& that was near 15 years ago now
but that first year was a hard one

They we’re clearing the land
working long days
the two of them just recently married
building pens for the horses
turning the soil
in the hot sun
day in & day out
& at nights
our Hero slept recklessly
remembering the time before his wife arrived
when a vagrant had forced his way in
while our Hero slept

The villain was drunk & smelled like a railcar
stumbled around noisily
seemingly unprepared
for the few pieces of furniture
our Hero had brought
from his grandmother’s home in KY

He was making such a ruckus
that our Hero was torn from his slumber
& slowly walked the dark hallways
shotgun held to his shoulder

In the dark he ran head on with the intruder
& they both fell back
but our Hero was quick to his feet
& had his gun upon the trespasser
who squirmed & began to weep

Our Hero held his killing shot
despite the fear in his heart
& then the vagrant began to speak very quickly
slurring all his words,

“He hadn’t known no one
to take up residence in that home
in all his years,
he was only passing through”

His only mistake in hoping for the usual shelter
the vacant home had always provided,
he cried louder & pleaded
& our Hero,
with mercy calming his quivering heart
ordered the man back into the woods

Soon after our Hero got the dogs,
picked 5 from a cardboard box litter in town
& his wife arrived
doling out unending tenderness on the puppies
as if in preparation for their one day family

The following Summer
was as hot as it had ever been
the ground was dry
& our Hero’s first crop
had been a bust
having underestimated his workload
& ending up
planting too late

The house felt like an oven
& most of the crops that survived the heat
& the drought
went to market to pay the mortgage
& fund the budding operation

They were hot & hungry but happy
& one night they put the dogs out
& made love on the quiltless bed
falling asleep naked & sweaty
until our Hero was once again jarred from sleep
by the dogs barking as if in frenzy
he ran outside
naked but armed

The dogs had cornered another boxcar refugee
chasing him up the old birch
at the edge of the fence

Our Hero had to discharge a round
to regain the pack’s attention
he shooed them back into the house
wishing they’d stop their fussing
before waking up the wife
but he could hear them
carrying on as loud as before
as he walked back to the old birch

The hobo was still there
clinging to the branches
& had to be convinced first of his safety
before he’d allow our Hero
to escort him away
so, our Hero talked him down
& was leading him out the fence
when he heard his wife
calling from the open door

Our Hero turned just quick enough
to see the pack charging in formation
the biggest at the lead

Our Hero could not calm or deter them
the pack ran the drifter back up the old birch
but the drifter could not outrun them
& the lead dog tore into his leg
hanging there by the teeth
the flesh uncurling from the calf

Our Hero discharged another shot
into the Heavens
the dogs scattered from him
& the intruder fell to the ground

He yelled to his wife to call the ambulance
& he stood there naked
between the dogs & their prize
he was naked still when the ambulance arrived
& the police with it

They had to put down the dog of course,
couldn’t be avoided in these cases
& our Hero did so honorably
& that was the last time the county cops
came out to the farm
but that was 15 years ago now
& if its mentioned at all
its between cops & over a cup of coffee
the story of a naked farmer
fighting off his own dogs
from devouring the man who aimed
to rob him

Life was good as it could get
our Hero established himself well
the dark days of struggle long in his past
& then the fires came

Later the weathermen would claim
strange atmospheric conditions
as a result of global warming
kept the rains away for too long
& the ground was dry
& the air felt like sparks
& a large scale fire was bound to happen

But it threw the small county into shock
our Hero’s farm was the first to go
it was only assumed
that they had been engulfed in the flames
& with all effort still tied up
in controlling the blaze
& the panicked townsfolk
it took a day before the authorities
could make it out to the remnants
of our Hero’s homestead

An old cop arrived before the EMTs
he’d remembered the place
maybe he responded to the call
maybe he didn’t
but he remembered the story well enough
& he expected to hear
the howling of the dogs
but it was silent as he drove up to the fence

He got out of his car,
cleaned his glasses & straightened his hat
looked up to see running towards him
a large dog covered in soot
looking rabid & confused
& he didn’t have to think
his heart leapt into his throat
& he fired three rounds into the animal
& stood upright, shocked,
& suddenly without purpose
he reached for his radio with a shaky hand
he had to call it in
report the situation
he reached slowly & unsure
& as he got his hand on it
it suddenly blared with warning
the wind had caught the fire
turned it around
& threatened to engulf everything in sight

C.
You glare at our little Hero’s story
& you cry out,
Where are my God’s,
My meddling immortal foes?
Where are the webs they’ve woven in time?
Where is the myth,
& where is the storyteller?

We return to our definitions
& our previous work

Myths
stories that a particular culture
believes to be true
& that use the supernatural
to interpret natural events
& to explain the nature
of the universe & humanity.
-wiki

Is our Hero’s story entirely unbelievable?
Is there no culture
that our Hero could’ve arisen from?
No one that could not relate,
in some way,
to his plight?

& of the Supernatural?
Was there none?
No reason beyond man’s comprehension?
Nothing criminally improbable?

Where there is smoke, there is fire
& our immortals must play some part.

We know
they are beyond mortal understanding,
their actions are the Supernatural.

So,
we follow the trail from the unexplainable
& we find our immortals there.

But,
what, of our Hero’s tale,
was beyond his own comprehension?

If,
we give our Hero any credit,
then it is easy to assume
that his own choices
were within his comprehension
(most of the time)
thusly,
under his own volition
& clearly of quite natural origins.

So,
that only leaves
every other thing
in the universe.

D.

Now,
the landscape of our Mythology
is transformed.

&
it still is,
if not more,
conceivable now
that our Immortals play a part
in the world of our Hero.

The Mythologer is freed
from the rational world
of conceivable outcomes
to inconceivable circumstance.

Mortal Man remains pet
to the will of the unconscionable
but rightly
with no sensible answer.
i.e.

Baby talk
The locking of a pen
The over-feeding
The starving
Firm reassurance
Unfathomable love
&
Un-seeable neglect

If everything beyond
our Hero’s comprehension
is logically the work
of some Immortal being
whose existence itself
baffles all of Mortal man,
our Hero’s story
is still a battle against an inescapable fate
wherein he trudges through the dark
battling invisible opponents
& fearing every thing but his own will
may already have in it
some unconscionable intent.

Our Morals are Morals of Chaos
Our Wisdom not born of Reason
Our Wisdom is born of a kind of Madness

Of the quiet Lunacy in accidental revelation
while wrapped in a veil
so tight & so thick
that most of your life is spent

kicking & screaming
& wondering if you’re alive at all.

Our Morals must speak of liberty
from unneeded suffering
in a world
where nothing is within our control.

Frankly, those Morals of Chaos are exhausting.
Come back for part IV, Methods, tomorrow.