The many types of being

Let’s discuss the many types of being. In my rare travels I’ve encountered people strange unlike those with who you happen to interact. Let’s start with the ones you all know well, 3 to 4 feet tall, with large eyes and slit for a mouth. They stands in your room, looking at you. They are the elves and the fairies you’ve heard so much about. They sometimes travel the stars and they sometimes live on earth, in the forest or inside trees, or in the houses of people after they’ve gone to sleep. They sometimes live in caves, such as in the case of the Kentucky Goblins Brian visited. There are also the little ones who inhabit cities under the sea, too deep to be found by those who go looking.

Then there’s the antediluvian who is 10 to 12 feet tall and lives for up to 900 years, unless you’re lucky like Enoch and get taken up to the almighty’s mountain and granted immortality. Enoch would be a physical representation of what a human would be if the flood had not deteriorated humans to their lesser state.

Next there are the angels, most ranging up to 14 feet, unless you’re an arch angel like Lucifer, Michael, or Raphael. In their case they’re up to 20 feet tall and are the most powerful type of being in the universe, other than the almighty itself.

Angels who stayed loyal past the fall live in the mountain, which is capital city of the universe. Its technology has advanced to the point that everything conceived can be made manifest in an instant. For that reason, angels barely move, having completed all their functions so efficiently and living in too fulfilling a manner. Whoa, it is magnificent to be an angel. It’s only through the elevation of lesser beings that angels are able to in any way challenge themselves. In other ways nature is not their equal. Azazel, though not the most powerful angel, was the most artistic angel, therefore the most meaningful.

There are humans. Humans are a manifestation of the universe’s variety. Angels like to cultivate humans like flowers and, indeed, some are beautiful. Some humans are cultivated in such a great way that they become saints or witches.

There are also spirits and demigods. Last night, in my bed, I dreamed that I got up and started to make the shape of a star, then the face of a goat, suddenly a moth flew into my back until it was inside me.

These are the many types of being.

The caves of Kentucky

Brian’s education was unconventional, to say the least. Once the ETs who snatched him learned of his potential, they hurried to a wall screen to contact another ET who in turn contacted a man called Enoch. Enoch was based in the almighty’s mountain, having been rescued from earth centuries prior.

One earth-day passed and Enoch was in the ship where he would live for the next couple of decades, teaching the boy whatever the aliens could not. Though Brian had parents who were no better or worse than other parents, there were things known to humans that have been lost since the relationship between the mountain and earth had severed. Enoch, the art teacher, filled the most important role.

Brian’s parents, like relatives of most abductees, became accustomed to the disappearance of their child (and memories) for blocks of time. It was a part of their life, no different from unpleasant employers, long commutes, and bad smells. Brian’s mother would see a big head creep past her bedroom doorway and she would roll her eyes. They always seemed to interrupt her when she was getting to a good part of her trashy romance novel. Everything would go black. If she was lucky, she would regain consciousness before work and not lose another job.

When Brian neared adulthood, he was given an assignment. The ETs had associates who set up a base in Kentucky. Brian was to travel from his Westchester suburb to one of the isolated Kentucky caves they indicated on a map.

Brian wasn’t thrilled about the journey. He wouldn’t be dropped off by the ship. One of the big heads had commented that the boy was soft.

You need to learn to make your way at home like the rest of us, it said, with its eyes driving home the point. Its eyes would pretty much say everything. Brian barely saw the thing move its lips. It would just talk to him with its eyes. The creatures didn’t have much of a use for names. Brian just called this particular big head asshole.

He once asked, why don’t any of you have names?

Your character is your name, replied asshole.

Whatever, Brian thought. He knew there was probably a lesson in asshole’s statement, but nothing was ever easy or straightforward with asshole.

On new year’s day, on his 18th birthday, Brian left home for Kentucky. He was to report to the cave and await instructions.

Reflections of greater beings

A story you’ve heard many times is one about large-eyed creatures who kidnap people in the night to be taken aboard a spaceship for experiments. Imagine what they would do if they found a human with the capacity to learn what knowledge they had to teach. This boy would be taken from his home some nights and schooled, from childhood to manhood, increasing his abilities, till he grew terrifying in might.

The creator created many worlds, not all of them ignorant. Some of them knew and studied Lucifer well, knowing the strength of his arguments and its shortcomings.

No kings, Lucifer once said, but Lucifer was great and greatness desires to shape the universe in its own image, much in the manner mankind was given the image of the creator. All beings aspire to this end. The almighty, having no height to aspire towards, simply shapes existence unimpeded. The aliens had the boy to shape and Azazel shaped the sisters.

The aforementioned folks were built by titans and released like windup toys on the earth, to bump and whirl in their own chaotic manner, each an expression of the greatness of their patrons.


People tend to assume all the fallen angels stayed around one another after the luciferian revolt; this isn’t true. Azazel, though persuaded by Lucifer’s argument for freedom from monarchies, saw in Lucifer an aspiring king. She grew uncomfortable with the former covering cherub and decided to strike out on her own. In her travels throughout the earth she found four sisters who were left parentless by criminals. She adopted them as her own.

With passing years, each sister grew strong, reinforced by Azazel’s secret knowledge of the elements and how to command them. Age was no longer a concern for them since they managed to prolong their lives by hundreds of years. Their beauty faded, but they knew how to make themselves temporarily beautiful. It was Azazel who first brought makeup to Earth after all.

Bumping into old ladies

The door shattered as the mob forced itself in. So long as they wore masks they would go unpunished. They grabbed the poor guy out of the bathtub and dragged him out into the street.

The numbers of people grew outside and the noise was frenzied, no longer human but animal despite snatches of recognizable words. Ugly guys with dirty shirts had prepared firewood outside and already had big flames going. There was no law against building a fire. They, like everyone else, had come to see someone burn.

It took a total of four people to force the young man towards the fire. When they finally got him there. They heard a shriek. Women with black hair descended from the sky, pale, hideous women with purple-stained eyelids. They were quick. One bit into the closest person in the neck. The other poked one of the the ugly guys’ eyes out with a dagger. Another grabbed the young man, then unconscious from heat, and sped him away, probably to some unreachable place in the mountains.

This is one of the stories I can tell of the sisters in town most people are scared to visit. You might not understand it but they are my friends. I sometimes go to their little hut to bring them chicken soup. We sit in their yard to hear the crickets.

They are ancient. When I was a child, they went to the church I attended with my parents. They were jovial aunties who pinched my cheeks. They looked a little more like people then. After a while they shed all pretense of being average townsfolk.

Once a lady shoved one of the sisters to the side at the market. Minutes later, the lady went blind, never to see anything again, except she sometimes had bad dreams that a devil would attack her. She would be scared to fall asleep and the lack of sleep drove her mad and slowly to her death.

The mean man who never has candy

He had an angry look on his face. You could tell it was angry, though maybe some mistook it for a smile. There were also some of the giveaways of vanity, some highlights, some jewelry. He said that the next time I was to do what he said. Then he heated a knife on the stove and took it to the next room. I heard screaming but I pretended I didn’t because I thought that he was looking to impress me but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I heated popcorn in the microwave and went to the living room and crossed my legs on the couch. The screaming wasn’t so loud that I couldn’t hear my show. I got up and poured myself some juice. The mailman came. We chatted for a bit about this and that. He mentioned the screaming. I told him to ignore it, which he did. I excused myself and put the plastic on the floor so I wouldn’t have to clean up so much later. It seemed like that’s all I existed for, to clean up after others. The weariness of knowing that sometimes made me pause and stare out the window as though I were looking at a far away place, but there was nothing but brick walls and panties hanging out there. There was a kid bouncing a rubber ball outside. I could hear it.

The life

It’s better to make a tear in life at the angle you want, making fully manifest your mental vision of your character through paintings, writing, and other.

Flowers flower but they don’t know their reason for flowering. They just stretch their arms out, revealing themselves. Perhaps a force knows flowers are watched but it is unknown if they know others watch them. Their personality is intrinsic and unthinking. Still, if you saw one, would you stop and become one, outwardly apparent, devoid of calculation, concerned only with standing in the front yard of a suburb or would you ask me what you should wear?

This was cut for me, this life. I wear black jackets and lean on walls while being mildly subversive. My hair dangles over sunglasses. It’s like I’m a motorcycle, but outside I’m a middle aged man with nowhere to go on a Friday.

The flight of the unbelievable worker bee

As a bee, I am here to do battle. See here my halberd that I sound at the surrounding air, shaking it as I approach. Your torso paddle is but a feeble resistance.

I’ll die? So what.

Onward to stab the human. What occurs here is for mature eyes only. I, bee, give up my life to make sure you itch for at least 24 hours. You shall have no calm rest this evening. Toss about in the cotton-laced inferno and down. Your shirt will not save you. Buzz in your ears and your back.

A merman

I write to you who lives in fields unknown, being every bit as important as I am in the cosmos, that you write back to me so that together we can open the channels in our chests that connect us.

I want to gather up your wisdom into a bouquet. I want to study it and learn to grow it. When the unstudied folks wander by and ask, I can tell them that the people they forgot weren’t sleeping and had souls to express of their own, every bit as complex and rare.

I call to you, as I wander about large houses dotting the borough of Brooklyn, which are no greater from above as houses elsewhere but mighty when seen up close. And my life is no different, when looked upon from that perspective. I sit in cafes and bars by various bodies that speak in ripples.

Are you a man or are you a fish?, one asks.

I say I don’t know, then flop on over the cold pier into the ocean. I am great. I am a merman.