(no subject)
Mar. 31st, 2002 07:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
johnpalmerI posted a story about my feelings about Anna/Maenad's death. I had this image that just couldn't be denied, and when my instincts tell me to use something like that, they're usually right. It was posted to the newsgroup alt.callahans.
I'm not sure if anyone not in Callahans cares to read this, but if anyone does, well, here it is to read. (Unedited, I'm afraid, and there are some tense-changes (past and present getting mingled) that should have been edited, but, oh well.)
It had been over a week before John actually walked back into
Callahans, rather than poking his head in to mention a thing or two.
The feelings had been a bit too weird, and a bit too strong. The week
before had been an awfully good week... with a huge, glaring spot that
had been terrible news.
John saw the standard set of people hanging around, including
not-just-a-few mages, otherworldly entities, unicorns, dragons, etc..
Then he saw 'her'.
It wasn't a her, really. If John fell in love with men, it
would surely be a 'he', and had he been bi, it might have been
anything from his primary interest, to a being that flickered between
the two, to a hermaphrodite, to who-knows-what?
What was more important was the arrogant sneer of victory on
her face. The look that said "not only did *I* win, *YOU* lost,
decisively... and that's how I wanted it."
"A blessing, Reverand, in honor of Patrick, in honor of my
grandfather, Hugh, an Irishman to the core," John asked of Tom
Hauptman, who was serving drinks in this corner. "And," he said,
interrupting Tom's response, "I didn't call you a minister, I merely
said you were worthy of reverence, and if that's a blessing in your
hand, it's quite accurate."
John had started teasing Tom once in a while, finding reasons
to remind him that he still served a higher purpose in many ways, even
if he wasn't serving a church, or its parishoners. Tom, of course,
had never protested, but it was part of the game for John to pretend
that he was always about to.
"I was only about to remind you that Mike doesn't take
plastic," Tom said, startling John, who had already removed his credit
card.
"Oops. They've been getting a good bit of use, recently...
I've been doing a lot of productive shopping," John said, and replaced
the cards, and removing a slightly worn dollar from his wallet
instead.
"I was fortunate enough to have one of these," John said, as
the blessing arrived, "or, the closest we could make, with a dear
friend and beloved, recently, this time before the celebration of St.
Patrick. I'd been recounting how it was a much more fitting tribute
than - *ICK* - green beer. That idea, and the presence of Tullamore
Dew, made it nearly inevitable," John said, and Tom nodded. "It
helped dull the other aches, as well," John added, and a sad look
flashed across Tom's face, along with a glance at the being John saw
earlier.
John looked at the being again. "Is she - *IT* - who I
think," he asked, emphasizing the word "think" slightly. Tom nodded,
with his eyes revealing a bit of anger.
"We don't throw out guests who don't physically attack others,
and who aren't expressly causing troubles. And being an asshole
doesn't quite count."
"How about being a liar?" John asked, and Tom shook his head.
"If they get uncomfortable enough to leave, well... But we
don't throw them out. Or let anyone else," Tom said, with a bit of a
warning look to John.
"Tom... Would I ever do something like that," John asked,
looking as if he might be horrified. Tom didn't say anything,
probably because of the old saying dictating silence if one can't say
something nice.
"Well," John said, draining the blessing, "I think I have some
work to do. What?" He said, noticing Tom's intent to say something,
"Didn't I say that I wouldn't throw anyone out?"
He left before Tom could reply that, no, he hadn't....
John only left briefly, to get dressed in nicer clothing, with
his hair well brushed and his beard neatly trimmed. He stops,
briefly, to whisper to a few patrons, whose eyes widen a bit but who
nod afterwards.
Then he approaches 'her'. "The ever-present lover, and great
seducer, who draws all people into the eternal embrace," he whispers.
She turns, and laughs scornfully.
"I'll take you all," she responded. John smiled, and bowed.
"Then take me," he whispered, and grabbed her, and kissed her
deeply and passionately.
Observers could see something very strange going on. Just as
Death is, indeed, the lover and seducer of all, she responded to his
kiss. But at the same time, she seemed to be pulling back, in horror.
A couple of John's loves saw what he was doing with his
fingers, some heard that he was whispering; some saw that he was now
kissing her most seductively, and there was the occasional sigh, or
giggle.
"Tell me who you have," John said, out loud. "Tell me!" Then,
he started nibbling ever so gently at the base of her neck, while
drawing his fingers across every erogenous zone he could touch.
Amazingly, she made no pretense of desire anymore, but still could not
seem to pull away, though John was hardly holding on. And then, as
the seduction built to a crescendo, there was a noise that sounded
like a scream of rage mingled with one of triumph.
Beside John, another 'she' stood, and in front of him,
stood... Something. Something terrible and evil and foul. John stood
glaring at it for a while before speaking.
"*She* took something... But she didn't win any victories by
it. And you... You've won nothing, and have no one. Get out of here.
You have no place here."
The foul thing looked pleadingly at the being beside John, and
it was now clear that 'she' was, in fact, the true personification of
death... And very different from the feeble impersonation attempted by
the evil being that now stood before her.
"I am not the end," she said. "And I am not the destruction
that you want people to think I am. Begone, Despair.... For he is
right, you have no place here."
Despair (for that is what the foul being was) did not fade,
nor leave, so much as cease to exist, and John looked Death in the
eye, and she met his gaze. "I can't believe I put my mouth on that
thing," he finally said, and managed to laugh.
"It's brought you no closer to me," she responded.
"Is that good, or bad?" John asked, strangely sincerely for a
man who loved life so much, right now. Death laughed gently.
"You know that you will learn of my secrets only after our
love is consummated," she said quietly. "But for now..."
John blinked his eyes; for a moment, there was Death... And
then, there was Anna. And he grasped her in his arms, and held her
tightly, and she held him, and tears came once again... But only from
John's eyes, for Death ends the tears of the living, and can not give
in to grief. For a brief moment, the love of Anna became the love of
all life, and it's necessary end. But then it faded to Anna herself,
and then gave itself over to grief, for it's proper measure.
John ended the hug, and closes his eyes, and whispers, "Okay",
and then, Death, and the image of Anna inside her, is gone.
But Death's voice whispers to all who wish to hear it, "always
remember that Despair and I are *NOT* the same... For I give meaning
to life, and Despair only takes it."
John, still in tears, walks over to the bar. This time, Mike
meets him, hands him a glass of Tullamore Dew, and points to a quiet
corner where he can be alone for a while.
--
Everything I needed to know in life, I learned in kindergarten. Like:
Evaluation of the defensive, and retreat, possibilities of your position
is essential. Especially when an angry nun with a metal ruler is
approaching.
I'm not sure if anyone not in Callahans cares to read this, but if anyone does, well, here it is to read. (Unedited, I'm afraid, and there are some tense-changes (past and present getting mingled) that should have been edited, but, oh well.)
It had been over a week before John actually walked back into
Callahans, rather than poking his head in to mention a thing or two.
The feelings had been a bit too weird, and a bit too strong. The week
before had been an awfully good week... with a huge, glaring spot that
had been terrible news.
John saw the standard set of people hanging around, including
not-just-a-few mages, otherworldly entities, unicorns, dragons, etc..
Then he saw 'her'.
It wasn't a her, really. If John fell in love with men, it
would surely be a 'he', and had he been bi, it might have been
anything from his primary interest, to a being that flickered between
the two, to a hermaphrodite, to who-knows-what?
What was more important was the arrogant sneer of victory on
her face. The look that said "not only did *I* win, *YOU* lost,
decisively... and that's how I wanted it."
"A blessing, Reverand, in honor of Patrick, in honor of my
grandfather, Hugh, an Irishman to the core," John asked of Tom
Hauptman, who was serving drinks in this corner. "And," he said,
interrupting Tom's response, "I didn't call you a minister, I merely
said you were worthy of reverence, and if that's a blessing in your
hand, it's quite accurate."
John had started teasing Tom once in a while, finding reasons
to remind him that he still served a higher purpose in many ways, even
if he wasn't serving a church, or its parishoners. Tom, of course,
had never protested, but it was part of the game for John to pretend
that he was always about to.
"I was only about to remind you that Mike doesn't take
plastic," Tom said, startling John, who had already removed his credit
card.
"Oops. They've been getting a good bit of use, recently...
I've been doing a lot of productive shopping," John said, and replaced
the cards, and removing a slightly worn dollar from his wallet
instead.
"I was fortunate enough to have one of these," John said, as
the blessing arrived, "or, the closest we could make, with a dear
friend and beloved, recently, this time before the celebration of St.
Patrick. I'd been recounting how it was a much more fitting tribute
than - *ICK* - green beer. That idea, and the presence of Tullamore
Dew, made it nearly inevitable," John said, and Tom nodded. "It
helped dull the other aches, as well," John added, and a sad look
flashed across Tom's face, along with a glance at the being John saw
earlier.
John looked at the being again. "Is she - *IT* - who I
think," he asked, emphasizing the word "think" slightly. Tom nodded,
with his eyes revealing a bit of anger.
"We don't throw out guests who don't physically attack others,
and who aren't expressly causing troubles. And being an asshole
doesn't quite count."
"How about being a liar?" John asked, and Tom shook his head.
"If they get uncomfortable enough to leave, well... But we
don't throw them out. Or let anyone else," Tom said, with a bit of a
warning look to John.
"Tom... Would I ever do something like that," John asked,
looking as if he might be horrified. Tom didn't say anything,
probably because of the old saying dictating silence if one can't say
something nice.
"Well," John said, draining the blessing, "I think I have some
work to do. What?" He said, noticing Tom's intent to say something,
"Didn't I say that I wouldn't throw anyone out?"
He left before Tom could reply that, no, he hadn't....
John only left briefly, to get dressed in nicer clothing, with
his hair well brushed and his beard neatly trimmed. He stops,
briefly, to whisper to a few patrons, whose eyes widen a bit but who
nod afterwards.
Then he approaches 'her'. "The ever-present lover, and great
seducer, who draws all people into the eternal embrace," he whispers.
She turns, and laughs scornfully.
"I'll take you all," she responded. John smiled, and bowed.
"Then take me," he whispered, and grabbed her, and kissed her
deeply and passionately.
Observers could see something very strange going on. Just as
Death is, indeed, the lover and seducer of all, she responded to his
kiss. But at the same time, she seemed to be pulling back, in horror.
A couple of John's loves saw what he was doing with his
fingers, some heard that he was whispering; some saw that he was now
kissing her most seductively, and there was the occasional sigh, or
giggle.
"Tell me who you have," John said, out loud. "Tell me!" Then,
he started nibbling ever so gently at the base of her neck, while
drawing his fingers across every erogenous zone he could touch.
Amazingly, she made no pretense of desire anymore, but still could not
seem to pull away, though John was hardly holding on. And then, as
the seduction built to a crescendo, there was a noise that sounded
like a scream of rage mingled with one of triumph.
Beside John, another 'she' stood, and in front of him,
stood... Something. Something terrible and evil and foul. John stood
glaring at it for a while before speaking.
"*She* took something... But she didn't win any victories by
it. And you... You've won nothing, and have no one. Get out of here.
You have no place here."
The foul thing looked pleadingly at the being beside John, and
it was now clear that 'she' was, in fact, the true personification of
death... And very different from the feeble impersonation attempted by
the evil being that now stood before her.
"I am not the end," she said. "And I am not the destruction
that you want people to think I am. Begone, Despair.... For he is
right, you have no place here."
Despair (for that is what the foul being was) did not fade,
nor leave, so much as cease to exist, and John looked Death in the
eye, and she met his gaze. "I can't believe I put my mouth on that
thing," he finally said, and managed to laugh.
"It's brought you no closer to me," she responded.
"Is that good, or bad?" John asked, strangely sincerely for a
man who loved life so much, right now. Death laughed gently.
"You know that you will learn of my secrets only after our
love is consummated," she said quietly. "But for now..."
John blinked his eyes; for a moment, there was Death... And
then, there was Anna. And he grasped her in his arms, and held her
tightly, and she held him, and tears came once again... But only from
John's eyes, for Death ends the tears of the living, and can not give
in to grief. For a brief moment, the love of Anna became the love of
all life, and it's necessary end. But then it faded to Anna herself,
and then gave itself over to grief, for it's proper measure.
John ended the hug, and closes his eyes, and whispers, "Okay",
and then, Death, and the image of Anna inside her, is gone.
But Death's voice whispers to all who wish to hear it, "always
remember that Despair and I are *NOT* the same... For I give meaning
to life, and Despair only takes it."
John, still in tears, walks over to the bar. This time, Mike
meets him, hands him a glass of Tullamore Dew, and points to a quiet
corner where he can be alone for a while.
--
Everything I needed to know in life, I learned in kindergarten. Like:
Evaluation of the defensive, and retreat, possibilities of your position
is essential. Especially when an angry nun with a metal ruler is
approaching.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-03-31 10:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-03-31 11:33 am (UTC)