the troll's necklace

The troll was unsure what to do with the magic invulnerability necklace. The land was at peace, even the townsfolk and the formerly murderous dragon. The troll thought that the necklace was a a truly great gift which must only go to the worthiest person. Cautiously, he informed the king of the spared city to send forth their greatest warriors. Some were indeed very brave and strong, but something was lacking. There is a kind of courage that only comes out of weakness and being scoffed at. So, the troll beseeched the king to send out his daughter the princess to be trained as a warrior. The king agreed and was surprised at his daughter's eagerness to be trained for battle.

The troll took the princess to his cave and explained to her the nature of necklace. Yes, it would keep her alive no matter what, but that was not enough for victory. She needed to learn a variety of weapons, potions, magic spells, and disguises in order to be victorious and truly reach her potential. Above all, warned the troll, the princess must be very careful not to be corrupted by a witch. There were not many witches, but they were extremely clever, patient, destructive, and dangerous. The princess asked the troll how she might recognize a witch. To that, the troll said witches are masters of disguise, but they only speak to those that seem brave and powerful. Thus, the troll told the princess now warrior to be humble and plain so as not to attract the attention of a witch. Being humble and plain is not easy for a girl raised as a princess, but she was determined. She heated up some oil in a frying pan, poured water on it, and let the hot, spattering grease burn and scar her beautiful face. This became her permanent disguise.

The troll was shocked but pleased at her determination and so saw she was truly worthy of the invulnerability necklace. It told her to venture to a city in the next country over and pose as a beggar. The wicked king of the city had a great vault which contained some unknown treasure guarded by magic. Only the wicked king had the key to open it. The wizard who was friends with the troll desired this treasure greatly and so pressed his friend for help. The troll, in turn, pressed on the former princess. This sort of thing is one of the dangers of friendship. Beware of friends. Sooner or later, they will want something from you. The former princess, unaware of these machinations, set out to the strange city and learn of its underworld. Now, it is hard to befriend criminals without being like them, so the former princess became a minor thief and spent some time in the city dungeon. There, she learned more about gambling, lying, stealing, and other un-princess-like things. Often, she wished to return to her easy life as a princess, but that was impossible now.

In the dungeon, she met an experienced thief, or so he said. He told her that in order to steal the key from the king, she must sing him to sleep while he is lying in bed. Even the most paranoid king does not keep guards in his room when a maiden is singing to him. As soon she sings the last note, said the thief, she must rummage for the secret key the king wears around his neck and immediately hide it on her person. The sleeping king will not notice it is missing, but she will surely be searched by the guards, unless she plans on distracting or seducing them as well. The former princess listened to the experienced thief's lessons with great care and practiced the necessary skills constantly until she was released. 

When she was let out of the dungeon, the marred princess worked her way into the king's castle. She started as scullery maid in the kitchen and came to know the names and habits of all the servants. By this, she also came to know the king's favorite food and drink. Later, she would sneak and hide at the entrance of the great hall to eavesdrop on the king's evening entertainment. From this, she learned that the king enjoyed poetry and harp music. For many months, she wrote poetry and practiced the harp until she could play it so well it was as if she had been born with a harp in her hands. 

One night, as she waited at the threshold of the hall, she could tell the king was annoyed and disappointed at the evening's entertainment. The king was once a proud and stout knight, but now with age, he was flabby, frail, and fickle, almost like an overgrown child. Aha, now's my chance, thought the marred princess. She remembered when she had been reluctantly pushed out the city gates to put a garland of flowers on the killer dragon, and that experience gave her the confidence to navigate this much less dangerous experience. All the more so since now she was wearing the troll's magic invulnerability necklace. Confidently, she took her place at the harp, and began to play a soothing, somber melody. Soon, the king's eyes began to droop, but he liked her music so much that he ordered his guards to bring the harp and her to his bedroom.

And so she played on as the king drifted off to sleep. When the coast was clear, she felt under his pajamas for the key, found it, and very carefully removed it from him. The hard part was over, or so she thought. It was the dead of night and the guards were patrolling, but still she crept toward the secret vault with the key. At last, she reached the vault, but there was no keyhole. But then, she saw a mirror in the wall with an inscription under it, which said, "SHOW ME BEAUTY". At first, the princess was heartbroken, as she had scarred her face on purpose. Ah, but the key! Surely the king who made the vault thinks it is beautiful. So she held the key in front of the mirror, and the vault groaned as it opened. Inside were heaps of gold coins and jewels, but above them all was a single frayed scroll, which she snatched before escaping the castle. 

the magic pen and the troll

After a few centuries in heaven, the righteous man became a bit absent-minded. He forgot about the magic pen, and one day it fell out of his pocket and down to earth. On the way down, it hit a flying dragon on the head, bounced off, and landed in front of a troll. For the dragon, the sudden blow was the last straw, and so it flew off to incinerate a village to vent its frustrations. You never know what random event will make someone snap. The troll picked up the pen and examined it. Trolls aren't the brightest bunch, and this particular one was about as sharp as a marble. Even so, it took the pen back to its cave and began to write with it, for once a kindly wizard had taught the troll how to write in hope of making it tame. Because the troll was simpleminded, it wrote the kinds of food it wanted to eat. To the troll's surprise and great joy, all the food it had written about magically appeared around him in the cave. The troll ate well and lived in leisure for a long time. 

Alas, the dragon became angry once more, and this time it decided it devour the troll. Dragons do not like the taste of trolls, but sometimes they eat them anyway simply out of spite. Some creatures are just ornery, and the only sensible thing to do is stay away from them. Anyway, the dragon stomped over to the troll's cave, but just before it was able to snatch the troll with its jaws, the troll wrote his wizard friend's name in the hope that he would appear and save him. Poof, the stunned wizard appeared, waved his wand, and turned the dragon to stone. This is the sort of thing that happens when you anger the wrong person. The grateful troll explained what he had done with pen and offered it to the wizard, who pondered what to do. The wizard realized the power of the pen and knew he would be tempted to misuse it. He told the troll to keep the pen, but only to use it for things it needed. If the troll was ever in doubt, it should use the pen to summon the wizard for advice. The wizard bade the troll farewell and departed.

The troll began to feel sorry for the dragon turned to stone but was also worried about changing it back. As a compromise, it used the pen to first shrink the mighty dragon to the size of a chicken, then bring it back to life. The shrunken dragon looked up at the troll with an ashamed look. The troll had showed it more mercy than it had shown to many other creatures. The wheel of fortune often turns without warning, so it is wise to always follow the golden rule. The dragon asked the troll if it could stay in its cave, as it would not be safe roaming about in a land full of people eager to kill a dragon. "Well, that is your own fault isn't it", said the troll, trying not to add insult to injury. But the simpleminded, goodhearted troll took pity on the puny dragon, patted it on the head, and gave him food and a soft bed. The wizard had taught the troll the importance of mercy, and that the best way to defeat an enemy is to turn them into a friend.

The troll and the dragon lived comfortably and in peace for many years. Once in a while, the dragon would leave the cave and fly to and fro above the land, and report back what it saw to the troll. The dragon felt safe doing this because the troll had conjured a charmed necklace which protected it from harm. One day during its regular patrol, the dragon saw a great army marching on their toward the nearest city. Surely, they intend to attack and loot the city, and any other that come across, thought the dragon. The dragon wanted to warn the townsfolk, but knew it would not be welcome, and though it could not be harmed, the townsfolk might capture it and keep it prisoner. So the dragon flew back to the troll's cave and told the troll about all it saw. The troll wanted to help, but since it was not sure what to do, it summoned the wizard and asked for advice.

The wizard looked the dragon up and down. "Hmm, I think you have learned your lesson", said the wizard. "You should be returned to your original size. When the army is just outside the city gates, you should fly down and scare them away with your flame breath. The townsfolk will see that you saved them and you will be a hero to them." The dragon took off the charmed necklace, for it would no longer need it. The troll used the magic pen to re-embiggen the dragon, which flew off and did as the wizard instructed. The army turned tail and ran as soon as they saw the giant dragon shooting flames from its mouth. The dragon landed at a polite distance, turned to face the town and bowed down low, for it wished to show it was humble. After much prodding, a very nervous princess exited the city and put a garland of flowers on the dragon's head. At that point, the townsfolk thought things could go either way, so they hedged their bet. But to their relief, the princess was neither eaten nor abducted, and there was much rejoicing. 

The troll was pleased with the outcome of his good deed, and the wizard remarked that the troll had grown much wiser, a rare achievement among those ignoble creatures. There was still the question of what to do with the magic pen. Someone else would get it eventually, and the wizard wanted to make sure it went to the right person. And so, the wizard told the dragon to swallow the pen, and to only regurgitate it if someone told it a riddle it couldn't answer. Dragons, of course, love riddles, so the pen was sure to stay in the dragon's belly for a long time. As a reward, the wizard said the dragon could eat anyone who asked it a riddle it could answer. Thus, it would be ages before anyone used the pen again, and that person would need to be both brave and clever. The troll thought of what to do with the charmed necklace, but that is a story for another time. 

the devil's pen

The devil went to his workshop and pondered an infernal design to compensate for his latest failure. You can't keep a bad man down, as the old saying goes. Aside from the wisdom of ages, he had a vast assortment of diabolical tools and materials, as well as the labor of his many demon minions. How long he toiled, who can say. The devil rarely rushes as he has all the time in the world. At last, his work was complete. He emerged from his workshop with his most fiendish contraption yet: a cursed pen. Most things written with the pen would come true, and people would believe any words written by the pen. The devil walked the earth in search of the best victim, as he always does. He came upon a poor farmer and chatted him up. "Here my good man", said the devil to the farmer. "This magic pen will solve all your problems", said the devil and explained further what it could do. Now the farmer, though poor, was no fool. He knew not to trust the devil but thought that maybe he could play with fire without getting burnt. He curiosity got the better of him, and he traded his soul for the magic pen. 

The farmer wasted no time. He wrote down all his wishes as fast as he could think of them, and most of them came true. He became a wealthy, respected, powerful king. But soon enough, he hungered for even more. So he set out to change everyone's beliefs. The pen couldn't make him God, but it could convince people he was. And so the formerly poor farmer wrote down that he was God on a piece of paper and showed it to all the kings and priests he could find. In short order, he was the emperor of earth, the most powerful man who ever lived, and had control over life and death. Alas, the pen would not make him immortal, and as he aged and drew closer to death, the devil came to visit and taunt him, saying that not only would the formerly poor farmer die and go to hell, but also his blasphemy would cause chaos and send countless others to hell. For if everyone believed a certain man was God, and that man died, then that to them would be the same thing as God being dead. All hope and faith would be gone from the world, and the devil would have the final victory.

What was the former farmer to do? He decided he would use the pen to conjure the most righteous man in history and then give him the pen. He spent his last days describing his successor's many virtues, and that very man sprang from the page as soon as he set down the pen. In the final moments of his life, the former farmer instructed the man he had just manifested on the nature and abilities of the pen and urged him to undo his mistakes. The devil came to collect the former farmer's soul and taunt the successor. However virtuous the man might be, he was sure to do evil even by accident, the devil said. The conjured man ignored the devil's insults, which is of course the wisest thing to do. He sat down at a desk and began to write. First, he made sure that he would be safe from harm and have a long life in good health. This is most reasonable thing anyone can wish or pray for. He also made it so no one, not even the devil, could take the pen from him. Next, he would carefully write about how his master had been mistaken. This was tricky since everybody in world believed the former farmer had been God, and that with his death, God was dead. The righteous man traveled the world and showed everyone he met little bits of truth he'd written with the pen. 

One such bit was "a man who dies cannot be God". As he showed this to more and more people, the blasphemy spread by the former farmer began to wither. Even so, the world had become full of evil, worse than it's ever been. So he used the pen to make the same phrase appear written in the sky with clouds. This miracle was enough to set the world back to just about the way it was before the pen had ever been used, maybe even a little bit better. At this, the devil stormed up out of the depths of hell and demanded the pen back. Now the righteous man was in a bind. If he gave the pen back, the devil would just give it to someone else, and the same thing would happen. The pen was indestructible and would never run out of ink. For you see, the devil always plans ahead. It was no use to hide the pen from the devil either. Fortunately for the righteous man, he knew the devil could not steal the pen, else he would have done so already. Still, the righteous man would not live forever, and so he needed to come up with a plan. Would it work to conjure another equally righteous man and give the pen to him?

The righteous man thought about what to do for many years. He had built up a following as a minor prophet, with just the right amount of authority and number of followers. It's important not to overdo things. Most evil is just good taken too an extreme. As more time passed, he felt the end of his life was near, and he was still unsure of what to do. At that moment, an angel came and whispered in his ear. Angels rarely interfere except to nudge things in the right direction. The righteous man used the pen to do one last miracle. He made it so that it would be written in the sky with clouds: "Write only with ink!" This was clever because people are naturally contrary and tend to do the opposite of what they're commanded. And so it came to pass that a great many people, including all the ones the devil could tempt, stopped writing with pens and invented all other sorts of writing implements. The righteous man died and took the magic pen to heaven. That is the only place safe from the devil. At this, the devil gave up trying to get the pen back, and it was no use to make another one. 

the lamb and the devil

Long ago and far away, there lived a little lamb with its flock. Though the rams were strong protectors and the shepherd kept a watchful eye, the lamb heard many tales of wolves devouring sheep, and so was miserable and afraid. One night, when the moon was full, the poor little lamb woke up from a nightmare where it was being chased by a wolf. "Oh, how I wish I was a wolf and safe from harm", said the poor little lamb. The devil, who is always nearby when such things are said, appeared at once and patted the little lamb on the head. "Your wish is my command", said the devil, who then snapped his fingers, and poof! the lamb was transformed into a wolf. "You best run now into the woods before the shepherd sees you", the devil warned. He laughed as the lamb-now-wolf ran into the deep, dark woods. 

It ran until it found a small cave and crept inside. It was tired from all the running and soon fell fast asleep. When it woke in the morning, its stomach was growling. As a lamb, it never wanted for food, for the green grass of meadow stretched for miles. Now it had to hunt and kill in order to eat. Soon it caught a scent and followed it until in pounced on a rabbit. "Spare me and I will grant you a wish", cried the rabbit. But the ex-lamb was starving, and so it tore the rabbit to bloody pieces with its fangs and gobbled them up. Days turned into weeks, and the lamb-now-wolf had all but forgotten its former life. It grew large, strong, and fast from hunting and soon became the most fearsome creature for many miles around. 

Eventually, it grew so bold that it began feeding on sheep from its former flock. When the shepherd came to chase it away, it mauled him badly. Though the shepherd survived and gave the wolf a good beating with his crook, he wanted to kill the wolf to keep his flock safe. He went into town and hired a hunter. The hunter was eager to earn the bounty and bolster his reputation, so he set out at once into the deep, dark woods where the wolf lived. When night fell, he built a fire and roasted some meat, as he knew the scent would attract the wolf. He put out the fire, hung the meat from a tree branch, and climbed up the tree to wait. Sure enough, the wolf came. As it reared up to grab the meat, BANG! the hunter shot the wolf dead. But the wolf still had the soul of lamb, which flew up to heaven. No creature as gentle as a lamb ever goes to hell.

The lamb was greeted by Saint Peter at the pearly gates. He scolded the lamb for being wicked, but the lamb protested it had been tricked by the devil. Saint Peter said that everyone knows only a fool makes a deal with the devil, and the lamb was ashamed. He told the lamb it could not be allowed into heaven, but it was free to wait with him outside the gates. Saint Peter patted the poor little lamb on the head, and the remorseful lamb lay down at his feet. After some time, the lamb remembered the rabbit and asked Saint Peter about it. He told the lamb that the rabbit was an angel in disguise sent to help. Now the lamb felt even worse, though a bit relieved since he did not actually kill that time. Saint Peter reminded the lamb that blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. 

Time passed. The devil is not allowed in heaven, of course, but he sometimes visits Saint Peter. When he saw the lamb, the devil taunted it by saying those who wish to prey on others will inevitably become prey themselves. The lamb wished it had learned that lesson before meeting the devil, as we all do. The devil offered to take the lamb to hell for a visit. Saint Peter warned the lamb not to go but added that the devil has no power to keep a lamb in hell. The lamb was curious and foolish, and so followed the devil into hell. It was worse than anything the lamb could have imagined. There was lake of fire, demons with pitchforks, and the screams of unforgiven sinners. The devil asked the lamb its opinion, and the lamb stomped its hoof and said it didn't like the place one bit. 

The devil beckoned the lamb to follow deeper into the underworld. He pointed up, and there chained on the wall was a miserable wretch. It took some time for the lamb to recognize the poor soul as his old shepherd. The lamb asked the shepherd why he was there. The shepherd replied that he had fallen into evil after getting a taste of violence when he fought a wolf. "I became a robber and roamed the land preying on innocent travelers", said the shepherd. "One night at a tavern, I got in fight with a hunter. I stabbed him and then was hanged for murder." The lamb explained how it had been tricked by the devil and that it had been the wolf that the shepherd beat. 

The devil told the lamb the hunter is down here too, for he became proud and quarrelsome after killing the wolf. "So you see", said the devil, "I got all three of you to send each other to hell." The lamb became angry but remembered Saint Peter's words. The lamb told the hunter that if he could grab on somehow, the lamb would drag him to the pearly gates. But the hunter's hands were chained. The devil laughed, for these are the moments he lives for. The lamb told the hunter to chew off his hands to get free, then bite the lamb's tail and not let go. The hunter did so, to the devil's amazement. Then the poor little lamb began dragging the hunter all the way up out of the depths of hell back the way it came. As it passed the shepherd, the lamb cried "don't worry, I'm coming back for you." At this, the shepherd began gnawing his hands off to get free. Now the devil was really getting worried. All his clever work was about to be undone!

So he summoned his demons who poked and prodded and burnt and whipped the hunter in hope that he would cry out in pain and thus let go of the lamb's tail. But he held fast, and the lamb slowly but surely dragged the hunter all the way out of hell to Saint Peter at the pearly gates. Saint Peter could hardly believe his eyes. The lamb told Saint Peter he was also bringing back the shepherd. And so once more, the lamb descended into the depths of hell, with all its fire, smoke, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and let the bloody shepherd bite his tail. And the lamb dragged him out of hell as the devil and all his minions did their damnedest to make to make the shepherd let go. Once more at the pearly gates, a stunned Saint Peter said all three had earned their place in heaven. The lamb was about to enter when it remembered the screams and sad faces of all the other damned. And so, to this day, the lamb is dragging sinners out of hell one by one, just to spite the devil. 

Cute Lamb Needs Attention

the long dusk - part 6

Preface

The is history my father wrote of the great famine as he experienced it and recorded in his diary. Here and there, he makes references to things from the Before Time which may not make sense to today's readers. In these instances, I have added my own explanatory notes in [ ]. 

***

October 1, 2027 - Manatee Springs, Florida

Dozens of refugees from Cedar Key came through with news of an attack by El Jefe and his army. Estimates of the number of troops varied, but all said El Jefe commands at least a thousand, all armed with guns and riding bicycles and horses. A few days before the attack, a rider came through with an ultimatum to either surrender unconditionally or be massacred. The rider was chased away with jeers. Cedar Key was a fairly large, prosperous settlement when I visited it, and there is only one way in or out along a road on a narrow strip of land. Even so, El Jefe attacked in such great numbers that their defenses were overwhelmed. The townsfolk fought back as best they could and inflicted many casualties before they were wiped out. Many young women were captured and violated. Others fled in boats and made their way here. We're happy to have reinforcements, but now fearful we are El Jefe's next target. Sure enough, a few days after we heard the horror stories of the refugees, a rider with a white flag slowly rode into camp. 

It occurred to me that in addition to making the ultimatum, he was also scout and would report back on our defenses. I went out to stop him before he could ride all the way to our inner stronghold at the spring. The rider was a young man about 20 years of age. He was lean, strong, and had a mean and proud look in his eyes. I guess he had delivered many threats before. He told us that his majesty, El Jefe, is the strongest warlord in Florida, and all that he and his men desire are theirs for the taking. Surrender everything now and receive some mercy, he warned. If we fight, all the men would be would be killed. He paused for our reply. I grabbed him and other joined in. We tied him up so he would not report back with what he learned about our defenses. If he was sent out to threaten us, then the bandit horde is already on its way here, and when their scout does not return, they will move to attack us. So we lost nothing by capturing the scout. We decided that anyone who could not stay and fight or did not want to should retreat a few miles to the north by following along the river. 

We sent out a small group of scouts to see if they could locate El Jefe and his men. It wouldn't be hard. If their army was as large as the refugees said, their campfires would visible at night from a distance and the sound of hundreds men talking would carry a long way. In the meantime, we lit many more fires than usual at our village to exaggerate our numbers. Our scouts returned and told us the bandit army was camped in Chiefland, some six miles away. We decided it was best to attack them by surprise at night. Starting at sunset, we began marching out in little bands of five or six. We marched past their camp and then circled back in order to surround them. Once we closed the circle around them, we began moving toward the center. I don't know who fired first, but once the shooting started, there was a lot yelling and some of the bandits tried to flee. Of course, they had to run toward us if they wanted to escape, and all were quickly cut down. The shooting tapered off as dawn approached, and we again started moving toward the center. 

There were many dead, but more were wounded. Since they couldn't be helped, they were disarmed and left alone. If they refused to be disarmed, they were killed outright. Others were playing dead or hiding in tents. We ended up with hundreds of prisoners, including El Jefe himself. Everyone gathered around as I prepared to execute him with my pistol. There was no good reason to let him live, and if I hadn't done it, someone else would have, and my reputation would have suffered. It was over quickly. I asked him if he had any last words. He just gave me the finger and I put a bullet between his eyes. That was the first time I killed anyone. I didn't feel great about it, but I didn't feel bad about it either. He was an evil man, and only death would stop him. I sawed his head off with a hunting knife to keep as a trophy.  

There was a discussion over what to do with the other prisoners. Some suggested mutilating them in some way and letting them go. Chopping off hands or gouging out eyes would be messy and take a long time. On the other hand, doing so would let them serve as living warnings that my tribe is not to be trifled with. Others suggested that we enslave them as whatever work they did was work we didn't have to do ourselves. I was against slavery for moral and practical reasons. There were also some who thought the safest choice was to just kill all of them. In the end, I decided on a compromise. There was roughly one captive for each one of us, and I had already killed mine. The prisoners were huddled in a mass and we were in a circle around them. One by one, I went to each prisoner and led him to a man in the circle. I then told the man to make his choice about what to do next. And so, some were killed, some mutilated, and some enslaved. At the end of the day, we had about 100 slaves. I knew slavery was more trouble than it was worth, but to argue against it then would have been futile.

The mutilated ones were let alone to wander off as they wished. Some just sat down and buried their faces in the hands; those that still had both hands. Like me, a many men returned to camp with human body parts as war trophies. I can't blame them too much for doing what I did. It made the ones who took slaves seem merciful. The enemy dead were left to rot. We cremated our own fallen warriors nearby and made a cairn to mark the spot. From the enemy, we captured many weapons, much ammo, hundreds of bicycles, and a few horses. Most of the horses ran away during the battle. We might be able to catch them later. We set the horses to plow more fields for vegetables and potatoes. We also captured a number of wineskins, and drank from them to celebrate the victory. It reminded me of the need to get a brewery going. Beer is one of the pillars of civilization. What we did to El Jefe and his men is also part of civilization. It still bothers me how it conflicts with what we say about ourselves. 

November 1, 2027 - Manatee Springs, Florida

I have questioned the captured scout at length. He calls himself Huerfano, meaning orphan. Although he has no reason to lie, he also has little incentive to tell the truth. Even so, by reading between the lines, I can separate fact from fiction with some confidence. He said that El Jefe got his start in the Miami area. The collapse there led to a particularly brutal civil war. Part of it was due to the prevalence of drug gangs, but Latin machismo was also part of it. El Jefe was able to unite Cubans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, etc. on the basis of La Raza, or the Hispanic race. Spanish became a kind of prestige language spoken by the elite while English continued as a lingua franca, albeit with many Spanish words mixed in. According to Huerfano, El Jefe defeated several rival warlords on his way to the top of the heap. At times, he could even be charming and was always generous with the spoils of war so as to build the morale of his troops.   

    

In our council meetings, there is a growing faction which suggests we should strike out to raid and conquer. The best defense is a good offense as the old saying goes. I and others recommend a porcupine strategy of making ourselves are hard target so we can safely build up our numbers. We all agree that the general rule of history is expand or die, so at some point, we will need to fight wars with far off enemies. The aftermath of the battle has led to some social factures. To heal them, I put forth a motion that we not take any more slaves and the ones we do have are to be freed after seven years. The ban on future slavery was overturned, but there was a strong consensus on freeing all slaves after seven years. Freed slaves would have a choice of joining the tribe or being exiled. There is no point in forcing resentful former enemies to be a part of our group. We all agreed it was far safer to get rid of them; violently if necessary.

Likewise, the issue of torture and mutilation arose. It was agreed that we would not engage in such atrocities again, though it was officially allowed to take anything property from a slain foe. Cannibalism was strictly forbidden. As for war trophies, it was restricted to the taking of teeth and skulls. Only those who fought in at least one battle could take teeth and wear them on a necklace. Only one skull, ideally of the enemy commander, would be taken for each victorious battle, and it would be displayed in a common area with the skull of El Jefe. Speaking of which, I decided that should be the one who preserved the skull since I had taken his life. First, I gouged out his eyes. Then I boiled his head so the flesh would come off more easily. His brain oozed out of his skull's eye sockets. When only the bone remained, I placed it in a small shrine located so that everyone who had to use the spring would walk past it. In this way, they would be reminded of our victory and the need to be vigilant.

The crops are doing well, though we will probably have our last harvest of the year soon. The weather is turning colder again, though not nearly as cold as it was in January back in Crossville. The pagans built their own shrine decorated with the miniature stuffed animals from the aquarium. The animals have been named and associated with deities, though I have not bothered to learn much about the new mythology. From time to time, I kneel before the shrine and leave an offering of a small fish. This gesture satisfies the pagans without angering the Christians or inciting ridicule from the non-religious. We pride ourselves on both freedom of religion and a lack of religious conflict. I hope it stays that way. As another ceremonial gesture, we made four extra large pirate flags and mounted them on the Chiefland water tower. It's the tallest structure around that can be climbed easily. It marks our territory and serves as a warning to would-be invaders. I like to say never bite when a growl will do. That's the rule in nature.

Our slaves seem to have accepted their lot in life and for the most part behave. Here they are safe and well-fed at least. They are banned from handling weapons, but otherwise have few restrictions. A few have been killed for refusing their masters' commands or for trying to escape. This harsh punishment keeps them in line and also reduces the slave population to the most compliant. I look forward to the day when there are no more slaves, but I suspect it is a long way off. Slavery was the norm for most of history. At least with our tribe, slavery is restricted to enemies captured in battle. They can neither be bought or sold. That at least keeps a lid on things. Those desirous of slaves must become adept warriors and go into battle. Amongst the young men, there is a growing desire to fight wars, as the veteran warriors have the most beautiful wives. Prostitution exists in our tribe, but is frowned upon. Young men and women, with encouragement from their elders, are marrying with the goal of raising families.  

As for myself, I have chosen to abstain, at least for the time being. Being celibate grants a measure of prestige, especially if a man has easy access to women. I do want children of my own someday. Until then, I am satisfied with teaching the young about constellations, plants, and animals. As far as I can tell, just about all the fertile women in the tribe are either pregnant or caring for a baby. In the coming years, we will need many teachers to educate them. It is my hope that the young people I teach now will carry on that work. The best monuments are living, breathing ones - the people you help and the lives you touch. Even if I end up without children, my legacy will be secure. I take solace in that.

the long dusk - part 2

Preface

The is history my father wrote of the great famine as he experienced it and recorded in his diary. Here and there, he makes references to things from the Before Time which may not make sense to today's readers. In these instances, I have added my own explanatory notes in [ ]. 

***

February 1, 2027 - Crossville, Tennessee

My mom died today from lack of insulin. Although my dad and I saw it coming, we're both still shook up. Neither of us is strong enough to dig a grave, and no one else can be hired to do it. So we used gasoline to cremate her in the backyard near where a few of her pets are buried. During my occasional forays from the house, I've seen smoke from fires here and there and wondered what was going on. Now I know they were most likely funeral pyres. We set my mom's pets free. I suspect they will either starve to death or be eaten soon. So it goes, as one of my favorite authors wrote. 

I really wish I had spoken more with friends and relatives when the power was still on and phones [telecommunication devices used instead of carrier pigeons and pony express riders] still worked. Technology made it easy for people to stay in touch even if they lived long distances from each other. American communities and families weren't very solid to begin with. I only knew the name of one of my neighbors. My dad is about all I have left now, and his health is not great. I promised him I'd stay with him for as long as he's alive. He said I should head elsewhere when spring comes regardless. 

On the one hand, I regret not having a family of my own, but on the other hand, I'm glad I don't have to worry about feeding and protecting them as so many other men are forced to do now. The herd is being thinned, and only the strong will survive. I managed to raid a lot of beer from the various gas stations and liquor stores in town. Beer has plenty of calories and was used as a survival food in previous eras. One thing's for sure though, it's going to be a long time before the breweries get going again. I guess if I really want alcohol, I'll have to make it myself or buy moonshine from some guy in the woods. 

Dating won't be the same, and no woman will want to have kids until there's enough food again. We'll have to forget about birth control and bunch of other stuff until the population recovers. On the whole, I expect the US to regress to a 19th century standard of living and population for at least a few decades. Will slavery return? It's impossible to know now, but I expect the world's population will decrease by about 90% this year. So many scientists, engineers, technicians, doctors, professors, etc. will be dead, and the survivors won't have the manpower or the knowledge to get civilization going again for many years.  

Another military convoy came to deliver fresh meat. It's probably the last shipment we'll get. Just about everything of any survival value has been looted. All the fuel is gone from the gas stations. At least half the town has fled for the coasts or some other greener pasture. I'd have fled too already if not for my parents. I was about 50 pounds overweight on doomsday, so I've been able to get by on less food than most. With enough water and vitamins, a person can live for a long time and decent health with little food. I remember reading that during WW2 [the largest war ever fought with over 50 million of deaths] the city of Leningrad was under siege for almost 900 days with very little food coming in. People survived on bread mostly made from sawdust and it was common for people to die in the street and be left there. I haven't seen any corpses besides my mom's so far. That makes me lucky. 

I'm glad I lived to see the peak of civilization. We really had something amazing going for us, and most didn't appreciate it enough. People have started burning books and furniture to boil water. It's a shame we don't have a fireplace or a kerosene heater to keep the inside of the house warm. I suspected the books in the library would get plundered for fuel, but when I went there, not much was missing. I don't know if the internet [like a library, but with vastly more information] will ever be back, so I took the books from the library I figure have the most survival value. I got books on first aid, wilderness survival, and gardening. I saved an atlas of the world and one of the US. Paper maps are suddenly much more valuable again. I hope most of the books don't get burned because we'll need them to rebuild. 

March 1, 2027 - Crossville, Tennessee

My dad died last week, probably from a heart attack. He was on a lot of medications, and they all ran out last month. At least his death was quick. I cremated with gasoline him next to where my mom's ashes lay. I wished I'd told him and mom how much I loved them more. I wish I'd been a better son. I wish I'd had kids of my own while they were alive so they could have more grandchildren. All that seems trivial now. It gets above freezing during the day now, but it's still unseasonably cold. I wrote obituaries for my parents and made a pile of stones on the ground where I burned their bodies. I used some of my mom's angel and bird figurines to decorate their grave. More than anything, they wanted me to succeed in life and be happy, so I figure the best way to honor them is to survive any way I can.  

I've been surviving off fish from the lake, beer, and vitamins. I've also lost about 40 pounds. It's a good thing I looted more vitamins when I had the chance. Is looting to stay alive a crime and everyone else is doing it? We survivors are going to have a hard time establishing law and order again. I still haven't eaten any dogs or cats yet, but I have shot some birds with my .22 rifle and eaten them. I also did it to let people around know that I'm armed. I never leave the house without a pistol in my pocket and a rifle slung over my shoulder. I haven't had a bath or washed my clothes since January. When it gets warmer, I'll bathe in Lake Tansi. I've been answering nature's call outside for over a month now. It's a good thing I went on lot of camping trips as a kid. 

Before the phones stopped working, there were rumors of cannibalism. I can't say I fault anyone for doing so, assuming they weren't killing people for food. I haven't seen a kid outside since early January. I wonder how many of them were mercy-killed and eaten or are dead now from something else. From what I've read about famines, mortality is much higher for children because they have weaker immune systems. They same is true for the old. I suspect that the vast majority of the people alive now are between the ages of 15 and 50. 

When the weather warms enough, I figure I'll head for the gulf coast of Florida [a province of the former United States of America] by riding my bike down I-75 [a major road connecting big cities] through Atlanta [a once great city home to millions of people]. Pretty much the only goods aside from the fact that I'm alive is that I've picked up some news broadcasts on my survival radio. It's a good thing it's powered by a crank. I suspect most of the batteries [miniature sources of electricity] are dead, and there won't be anymore for awhile. Even if the factories were running, all the batteries are made overseas. 

My generation and my parents were foolish to rely on foreigners for things as essential as batteries, fuel, and medicine, among with many other commodities. Sure, it was cheaper to import than make it ourselves, but it made us extremely vulnerable to supply chain disruptions [it seems the world economy was vast, prosperous, and interconnected in the Before Time]. Oh well. There's no way we could have known doomsday would happen. Many people thought that the world would end because of global warming caused by pollution from factories and cars. I expect most of them have frozen or starved to death by now. 

The trip to Florida is about 600 miles. I figure I can easily ride about 20 miles a day, so it should take me about a month to get there. Following the interstate means I can take shelter in nearby buildings along the way and maybe forage from any abandoned vehicles on the road. I worry somewhat about bandits, but they'd be more interested in finding food than robbing people. In fact, I think by now just about everyone still standing has settled in somewhere relatively safe. I wonder if there'll be anyone left in the cities I pass through. 

I went through town the other day to check things out. The library and the used book store had been stripped of most books. Paperbacks [a kind of cheap book] are easy to burn and there are a lot of them. Or at least there used to be. Of the books left, I saw some Bibles, encyclopedias, and classic works of literature. That gave me hope. I checked my apartment to see if my book collection was still there, and it was. It's too bulky to take with me, but I have a good memory and can recite a summary of each one. The only book I plan on taking with me is called The Cartoon History of the Universe. It doesn't weigh much and is jam-packed with knowledge. It was a gift from my grandpa's collection, and I greatly enjoyed it as a child.  

I've lived in Florida before, specifically the Gainesville area. Gainesville is home to the University of Florida. There's bound to still be books, lab equipment, chemicals, etc. Other survivors and I can team up and use that stuff to rebuild civilization. But that comes later. My plan is to settle in Manatee Springs State Park [there used to be a system of nature preserves called parks]. There are many animals there including deer, armadillos, alligators, fish, turtles, and a variety of birds. I'm not sure how much wild game will be left, but certainly some, especially in the gulf which is not far away.   

I finally gathered the courage to visit the farm near my parents' house after I saw a man watching a small herd of lambs graze. He had a rifle in his hands. I had my pistol in my pocket. I blew on kazoo to get his attention when I was about 100 yards away. He turned to face me, but did not take aim. I held up some fish I'd caught and a small bandolier of rifle ammo. He mentioned me to approach, and then led me inside. 

He told his story and I told mine. They were similar tales of suffering, death, and isolation. He said that he had been planning on hanging himself soon. I suggested we eat together at my place and have a few beers. He took some food from the cupboard for us to share. I could barely hold back my tears. Sharing a meal with someone is such a basic part of being human. He told me his name, but preferred to be called Bud, so that's the name I'll use here. 

I told him about my plan of migrating to Florida, and he insisted we go together. There's safety in numbers. He even had his own bike. We still needed to pack and prepare supplies like salted meat and dried fish. We would sleep in turns so one could keep watch of the others. It turns out Bud and I were both Army veterans and that added to our camaraderie. I suspect that a disproportionate number of survivors are veterans. And criminals. 

The Fable of the Sun People and the Ice People - non-racist version

Below is the original version:

[Story of the Ice People, and Sun People] Told by Dr.Umar Johnson

That story is an awful thing to tell children. It's racist, silly, and wrong. Here's my version:

***

Today, there are people spread over the world, but long ago, that was not so. Everybody lived in the same place now called Africa. It was mostly hot and dry, and people lived by hunting, fishing, and gathering wild plants. As time went by, there were more people, and so they began to spread all over the world: hot places, cold places, mountains, valleys, plains, next to rivers, by the ocean, and on islands. Everywhere they went, they came to have their own language and their own ways. But overall, people were mostly the same everywhere. There were good people and bad people, tall and short, smart and dumb, good-looking and ugly, and everything in between. 

The people who settled in Europe, we'll call them the ice people, because they had ice in the winter. The people who stayed in Africa, we'll call them the sun people, because it was sunny and hot there most of the time. As time went on, the people in both places switched from hunting and gathering to farming and herding. That meant more food, so soon there were more people in both places. The difference was that Europe was smaller, so it got crowded faster and people fought more. There was also fighting in Africa, but not as much because it was less crowded.

A few hundred years ago, the ice people started building big boats and sailed across the oceans to places all over the world. They were searching for more land to settle. The sun people did not build big boats because there was plenty of land already where they were. One day, the ice people sailed to the land of the sun people. By this time, the ice people had gotten very good at fighting, taking land, and bossing people around, so that's what they did to the sun people. Things went on like that for a very long time until there were some wars so big that the ice people finally got tired of fighting and let the sun people have their land back.  

Even though the ice people and the sun people still sometimes fight, most of them want to get along because they remember how bad things used to be. 

***

The above is also an oversimplification, but it's way closer to the truth than the original fable. 

The best story for teaching children about how racism is dumb and wrong is this:

Dr Seuss' The Sneetches Full Version YouTube

oh no, not again

 

cool night air

old soldiers just fade away

Sex Pistols and The Muppets-Friggin In The Riggin

Starship Troopers (1994) - Recruitment Officer

 

Darmoktoberfest

TNGs Darmok but the alien meme language has subtitles

R & R

shoulder to shoulder

 

Victory of the Saints on Chalupa Prime

 

Derpetology: Hired Raygun - part 1

stranger than fiction

My favorite sci-fi short films from DUST

THE SKWOIDS (aka Good Business)

Sci-Fi Short Film “Final Offer" | DUST Original

Weird short stories by Fernando Sorrentino

There's a Man in the Habit of Hitting Me on the Head with an Umbrella | East of the Web

There's a man in the habit of hitting me...

The Chastisement of the Lambs is also a good read.

Short story from Fernando Sorrentino | SYNCHRONIZED CHAOS

Bizarre Novellas by Ladislav Velinský

The Weird and the Wonderful DXIII: Bizarre Novellas by Ladislav Velinský

The End of Dr. Snobin's Immortality is one of Velinsky's best:

Hélice 35 interior final.indd

https://www.revistahelice.com/revista_textos/n_35/Velinsky-DeathSnobins.pdf

Hero and Angel - a fairy tale for grown ups

warning: contains adult themes 

Once upon a time, when the stars were young and the earth was new, the world was filled with monsters and magic. One day, young Everyman met with Wise Mentor, the old man of the village. Wise Mentor told Everyman that he was really Hero, who was destined to perform many great and valorous deeds. So Hero ventured forth, cruel dragons he slew two by two, awful tyrants he deposed, and won many epic battles. Unbeknownst to Hero, many of his feats were made possible by a clever and kind young woman who had admired Hero from afar for many years. Because she helped those in danger, she was called Angel. 

Satisfied with his many conquests, Hero returned to his village to meet once more with Wise Mentor, who told him that there was still one feat Hero had yet to accomplish. "Go deep into the mountains" said Wise Mentor "and there you will meet the most awful and terrible foe there is. Be warned. No Hero has fought with it and lived." Hero laughed and said he was not afraid and boldly strode deep into the mountains while Angel followed, stayed out of sight, and kept careful watch of him. At last, Hero reached a giant cave filled with a low and awful roar. 

He strode into the cave and announced that he was Hero, and that he was ready to face whatever beast lurked within. An evil laugh came from the shadows and filled Hero with dread for the first time in his life. A massive creature loomed over Hero and hissed "I am Evil Lord Death the Unconquerable. Gilgamesh, Achilles, David, King Arthur - I killed them all and I will kill you too!" At this, Hero shook with fear and ran for his life. In deep despair, Hero wept. Angel came and asked what was the matter. 

Hero said that Old Mentor lied to him. Angel said no, Old Mentor had only said what Hero needed to hear to complete his journey. Then she urged him to return to the cave an avenge himself of Evil Lord Death's insult. In a white-hot fury, mighty Hero drew his sword and charged into the cave with a heart-stopping battle-cry. For three days and nights, Hero and Death battled across the heavens and earth. Mountains crumbled, oceans boiled, and stars were knocked from the sky. 

Then when Death was losing by about twenty to nothing on points, he shouted at Hero to stop, for Death had Angel in his awful clutches. "Let me win or I kill Angel!" hissed the awful fiend. Hero dropped his sword and Death took him. Death released Angel who rushed to Hero's lifeless body and began to sob. "Silly girl" said Death, "when you get tired of crying, drink this poison and I will make you my bride." 

When Death turned his back to leave, Angel threw the poison bottle at his head, and Death, wounded and annoyed, grumbled and limped away. The people buried Hero in a magnificent tomb and Angel kept a lonely vigil there for many days. When he last ember of hope began to fade, she uncorked the poison bottle. There was a beautiful full moon that night, which she gazed on in wonder. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Hero, now ablaze in glory. "How did you survive?" she asked in shock. "I didn't" said Hero, "but heroes never really die, and angels sometimes walk, and every night when the moon is full, you can meet me here until the first ray of dawn." And so for the rest of her days, Angel spent every full moon with Hero until she awoke in the next world.

THE END  

visual aids:

THE BEST - US Marines TV Recruitment Spot - Ever Produced

A monolingual Irish speaker tells a story;

Monolingual Irish Speaker

A popular song translated to Irish:

Síoraí Spraoi - "Cheerleader" le OMI as Gaeilge

The 4 ways a story can end

At the end of a story, the main character(s) will either get what they want and need or they won't. So the 4 possible outcomes are: 

1. get what they want and what they need

2. get what they want but not what they need

3. don't get what they want but get what they need

4. don't get what they want or what they need

#1 is the most common ending. Disney's Aladdin is a good example. Most Disney movies have such an ending. 

Kafka's The Metamorphosis has a #4 ending. 

Finding examples of #2 and #3 are exercises I leave to the reader.