Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #109: Spiritual Perspectives: "Qualities of Light."

Saint Ives, Cornwall, UK

The story "Qualities of Light" is what I consider my best story. What makes it that? Why do I think of it that way? All the things that I try to do and want to emphasize came together in that particular story. It embodies the values to which I hold; I managed to express them in the space of about 25 pages and do it with good style and in well-written paragraphs. There are times in the life of any artist—I've had this happen when I do music as well as in writing—when everyone comes together and, for some reason, you do everything well. So it was, at least in my estimation for this particular piece of fiction.

Sossity

It drew on two ongoing characters of mine. The secondary character, Sossity Chandler, appeared in many of my early stories. In fact, I published thirty-eight stories about her. She is a musician, a guitarist, who, after six years of struggle, failure, disappointment, and barely getting by financially, makes it big. The story "Qualities of Light" comes at a low point in her career, when she has landed in London after the collapse of a tour with popular rock singer Geri Muir. Sossity had hoped her opening for such a well-known figure in the music scene would boost her own career. Then Geri collapses and must be hospitalized for drug abuse, and the tour is cancelled. Sossity ends up in London and decides to live for a year and try to connect to the music scene in that city. But London is expensive. She looks for a place to stay and, answering an advertisement for splitting rent with someone, meets Heather Alabaster.

Anglican Nuns

Heather became another ongoing character. I've written stories about her and an as-of-yet unpublished novel with her as the main character. She is about as different from Sossity as she can be. She is a nurse and plans to be an Anglican nun after she finishes her nurses training. Very religious, straight-laced, a virgin, she stands in contrast to the rather loose behavior Sossity often exhibits. But neither of them has enough money to rent rooms in a house, so the two unlikely women move in together, truly an odd couple, and begin a year together as roommates.

"Qualities of Light" begins when they have lived in the same house about three months. Heather takes the train to the town of Saint Ives, UK, where she will be interviewed and, if she passes the interview, will be admitted next year as a postulant at the convent there (a postulant is someone who thinks she would like to become a nun but has not yet taken any vows; Maria in The Sound of Music is a postulant). Sossity goes with her.

Of course, Heather is nervous. The fact that Sossity is with her makes her even more nervous. When they encounter some of the nuns who will interview her on the streets of Saint Ives, she wonders what they will think of her for going around with Sossity, in her shorts and halter top, telling them she plays jazz and blues in nightclubs and bars. Sossity also takes up with a young man she meets (as she often does), which vexes Heather. She becomes judgmental and critical and increasingly alienated from her friend, thinking she may spoil her chances of being admitted to the convent.

Sossity, in the meantime, manages to get some gigs playing and local bars and makes quite a bit of money from the jobs and tips. She works hard, since the two women do not have money and don't know where their money for rent and food will come from next month. Sossity even busks on the streets. Heather goes about the business of preparing for the interview. She becomes uneasy when one of the nuns asks her several questions about Sossity and seems unduly interested in her. Heather catalogs Sossity's moral failings, noting that despite her many affairs with young men, she too is religious, always goes to church, and behaves most devoutly when there. Heather writes her off as a hypocrite and hopes being identified with her does not hurt her chances at entering the cloister.

Heather is admitted. She also finds out why one of the sisters asked so many questions about Sossity. One of them heard her play Celtic music in local pub where she went with her brother, whose daughter was getting married the next day. It was an outdoor wedding and their harp player backed out at the last minute. They ended up hiring Sossity to play and are thrilled at her ability and that she agreed to fill in for them.

After this, Heather has an epiphany:  a moment of realization such as one finds in James Joyce's stories. She realizes how judgmental, selfish, and rude she has been to her housemate. Sossity, who has worked incessantly to earn them money, supported and encouraged her in this trying time, and believed in her, has acted more the Christian than the convent-bound Heather.

On the way back from the wedding, heading for the train station. Sossity is elated. She has made enough money to sustain them for two months. Heather begins to cry. This scene follows:

On the way down, Sossity caught the expression on Heather’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

Heather fought back tears. “Sossity, sometimes I get glimpses what a vain, selfish pig I am—how judgmental and full of pride I can be. I often wonder why God doesn’t strike me from the face of the earth.”

“There are better candidates for that than you. I’d say I’m pretty near the top of the list.”

“I wouldn’t say that at all.”

Heather has realized how far short she falls of the Christian commandments to show love, grace, and gentleness. Sossity has taught her a spiritual lesson she very much needed to learn.

At the beginning of the story, Sossity is reading from a tourist manual that mentions how the city of Saint Ives has always attracted artists because of the "qualities of light" seen there. Heather has learned that there are different qualities of light—different ways of manifesting goodness and of doing good. Her narrow focus has caused her to fail to see light in someone else. As a nun, she will need to revise her thinking on how she evaluates people and to judge not lest she be judged.

The story appeared in Eunoia Review. Read it here.

For more titles, see my Writer's Page.

 I would love to hear your comments.

Happy reading.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #108: Imagining Song: "Suzanne"

Cover for the single of "Suzanne"

Music informs my writing. I am a musician, I play guitar, mandolin, and banjo, and I perform locally. From the onset, my writing has explored themes related to music. From one of my earliest publications, "Son of a Preacher Man" (after an old song by sixties singer Dusty Springfield) to "What Debussy Wrote for the Guitar," to my novella The Last Minstrel, music has motivated my imagination. In 2013, I got the idea for another such story, "Suzanne."

"Suzanne" became a best-selling and signature song for folk artist Judy Collins. It was written by Canadian songwriter, the late Leonard Cohen and has been recorded by more artists than any of his other songs ("Hallelujah" included). Cohen's is also a poet, and his song lyrics reach the level of poetry at times. "Suzanne" always intrigued me. It's about someone who is in love with Suzanne. She lives in a house by the sea from which you can see the Statue of Liberty; a lot of what he (I assume it's a guy narrating the song) says about her is enigmatic. They apparently have a live-in relationship. But the lyrics say, "You know that she's half-crazy, and that's why you want to be there." The chorus is enigmatic. It repeats (and is the only rhyming line in the poem), And you want to travel with her and you want to travel blind / And you think that you can trust her, for she's touched your perfect body with her mind.

The guy stays with her for some reason, something she gives him. It has some other lines that are hard to interpret. Here's another stanza of the song. Speaking of Suzanne, it says

… she shows you where to look amid the garbage and the flowers.

There are heroes in the seaweed, there are children in the morning.

They are leaning out for love and they will lean that way forever

While Suzanne holds the mirror.

I puzzled over the lyrics for years. My interpretation is that Suzanne is speaking the two middle lines. In other words, she is indeed "half-crazy," perhaps from drugs. The two lines are her half-crazy talk. But the narrator of the song stays with her for some reason. I think—again, my interpretation—that he too is so burned-out, disillusioned about life, and so rootless that he finds something appealing in Suzanne's insanity.

So the story: Sossity Chandler is filming a video beside the Ohio River. She stays behind to enjoy some privacy, goes for a walk, and runs into a girl who recognizes her and says she's a fan of her music. Sossity accepts an invitation to go into her riverside cabin. The girl has a guitar and requests a song. Sossity plays her first hit and most popular song, "Cloud Shadows." The girl, named Deidre, says she listened to her music. The song "Cloud Shadows," she says, always sends her messages and helps her read what is written in the clouds.

At that moment, her boyfriend appears. He and Sossity talk in private. He informs her that Deidre is recovering from a breakdown due to hallucinogenic drugs. She is improving, he says, noting that a year ago she was "stark, raving mad." Sossity sympathizes. When they go back inside, Deidre is painting. She is an artist of considerable skill. Sossity talks with her, says she likes her art (which is indeed remarkable) and says she would like to see her again. She feels a pang of guilt then:

Sossity felt disgusted by her words and the patronizing tone of her voice, which sounded like how she would speak to a small child. Deidra Bennett was a woman and human being, not someone to whom you must speak in slow, deliberate phrases so she could understand. “I like it a lot. Your art is beautiful. So are you. Can I come back and see you sometime?”

Consulting more with her boyfriend, she promises to get them tickets to a small concert she is doing in Philadelphia in a few months, Deidre cannot handle big crowds, her boyfriend says, but a small venue would be fine. It would help her get more in contact with the exterior world. She asks Alan, her boyfriend, what he does for a living. He replies: I take care of her. I had a job in marketing for a firm in Philly. After I met her, I left to live here. It’s a better deal than what I had. And, of course, I love her. 

The content of Cohen's song is repeated and done as a variation in my story.

Sossity leaves. Once again, her status of a celebrity singer has brought her in contact with the truths of human existence—with the drama that plays out over the word all the time but of which we witness so very little.

The story appeared in Foliate Oak. You can read it here.

For additional titles, see my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #107: Magic and Mayhem: "Leviticus."

Saint Augustine

I don't write a lot of horror, and I've explained why elsewhere, though I can give a capsulized version of why here. I don't believe evil is ultimate. The old teachings of theologians like Augustine of Hippo and Thomas Aquinas, which I encountered in younger days, proposed that evil has no ontology; that is, it has no real standing in the universe but is a twisting and perverting of something else, something that has a legitimate place in the scheme of things. The Seventeenth-Century poet Robert Herrick put it this way:  "Evil no nature hath; the loss of good / Is that which gives to sin its livelihood." Evil is not a thing to itself but rather another thing modified and stripped of its good, used for a purpose other than its original purpose.

Most horror writing sees evil as ultimate. My story "Leviticus" combined these ideas.

Marcie has been dumped by her boyfriend. The girl he left her for, Eloise, taunts and mocks her. She wants revenge but is not so foolish as to try to harm the girl. Her sister tells her "Maybe you ought to talk to Leviticus." Leviticus was a girl in her school who practiced magic. Marcie remembers that some people who claimed to practice magic or be in league with evil power, but Leviticus was a legitimate, bona fide practitioner. Her lifestyle made people either scornful or afraid of her. Marcie befriended her, though she never asked, in all their years in school together, for Leviticus (whose real name is Carol-Lynn) to do magic for her. She arranges to meet her old high school friend.

Leviticus

She is surprised to see that Leviticus no longer dresses in black, like in the old days. She also runs a boutique Marcie has shopped at. But she does do magic. When Marcie tells her what she wants, Leviticus begins to question her motivations. Not liking her moralistic tone, Marcie stomps out of their meeting and goes to the library. Leviticus appears there and warns her against getting a book of spells and trying to do magic herself. "Not a good idea—kind of like trying to teach yourself to use a nuclear reactor," her old friend tells her. Leviticus agrees to help her.

The plan involves sending a monster to kill Eloise—though Leviticus makes it clear that she cannot kill anyone. Marcie remembers a time when a football player who circulated rumors that Leviticus had gone down for the whole team suddenly died. She clarifies: “I didn’t kill him. I simply opened the door to justice. Through his desire to hurt, he had weakened his resistance to the forces of evil who always want to destroy us but are held back by certain forces from doing so. He was vulnerable. When I do that kind of magic, I only weaken the protection people like him have. The results can vary.” She promises to send a monster after Eloise. But Marcie will have to participate in the project.

rakshasha

Leviticus says she will send a rakshasha, a demon from Hindu lore. Marcie must stand in a magic circle and be careful because the rakshasha is violent and will try to kill her if it can. She successfully sends the creature to get Eloise, but then complications set in. Two hours pass. She must relieve herself. Finally, when things get unbearable, she reaches outside the circle, retrieves a decorative jar she has filled with marbles, pours them on the floor, and uses the it as a receptacle. When the rakshasa returns, however, it attacks, choking and biting her. The creatures are venomous. Marcie sees that the marbles from the container have rolled to a low spot on the floor and covered up part of the magic circle. The poison from the rakshasha begins to work. She kicks the marbles away, reforming the magical protection and driving off the demonic creature. But the damage is done. Darkness closes over Marcie's eyes and she reflects on the irony that last thing she sees is a container sitting on the stairs full of her own urine.

She wakes up in the hospital. Leviticus is there with her. She was able to rescue Marcie and counteract the poison. Leviticus also informs her the creature debilitated Eloise and then slowly tortured her death. Marcie feels satisfaction that she has her revenge. But she also realizes that she should have made the focus of it her boyfriend, not Eloise. Leviticus asks if she wants to learn magic—a thing she had offered to Marcie in their school days but Marcie had declined. Now she agrees. She wants to learn to magic to get back at her boyfriend. She will become an apprentice. Leviticus will be her teacher.

The story appeared in the UK publication Sanitarium. You can get a copy of it here.

For additional titles, see my Writer's Page.

I would love to hear your comments.

Happy reading.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #106: Revising Myth: "The Sleeping Beauty.

Princess Aurora, the Sleeping Beauty in the Disney film

Revising fairy tales is a major movement in writing these days. Some of it comes from feminism. The lilting, passive princesses of the old tales, and their Disney counterparts in the cartoon adaptations of them are now fierce warrior women. Simpering characters like Snow White, who dreams about her Prince showing up someday now leads an army in an attack on her evil stepmother's castle. And some of the revisions of fairy tales come from unanswered questions. How did all the evil queens and stepmothers get to be evil? What were the lives of the Seven Dwarfs before Snow White showed up and after she left? What kind of Queen did Cinderella make once she married the Prince and took up her rule of her kingdom? These sorts of questions brought about the concept for my story, "The Sleeping Beauty."

Snow White leads an attack in Mirror, Mirror

That is a familiar fairy tale and one that was made into a popular cartoon by Disney Enterprises. The point I used for the construction of the tale was that the King decreed that no one in the kingdom could own a spinning wheeling under pain of death. A little harsh, in opinion. I mean, maybe smash the spinning wheel, fine the person or give them ninety days in jail, but don’t kill them. And in my story, they had extended the prohibition. Anyone who brought a needle or any other kind of sharp sewing implement near the Princess died. The main character of my story, Whitney, works as a seamstress in the palace (and also as a whore, a thing that is the usual secondary occupation for commoner women who work there). In a hurry to finish sewing some garments, she sticks a needle in sleeve of her dress, something she does to save time while sewing, and hurries to see Princess Aurora. The Queen sees the needle and sentences her to be hanged. As the guards carry her away, the King intervenes, saying that since she knew the decree and disobeyed, she must be a traitor who meant to harm the Princess. He orders the guards to give her a traitor's death.

Punishment for treason in the ancient kingdoms was to be hanged not to death but to semi-consciousness and then to be disemboweled (if you saw the film Braveheart, this is what is done to Wallace). Whitney is taken to a dungeon cell to await her fate. A man comes in, whispers that he will save her, and tells her he will have to act like he is raping her, which was the only way he could get into her cell. She begs and pleads as he makes loves to her. After he leaves, she is led to the gallows. He is the executioner.

He manages to fake her death through an elaborate ruse. After she is hanged, he puts a bag of cow intestines beside her and appears to pull them out of her. He takes her body to a small village where his wife and many other families live. They treat Whitney for hypothermia and for the damage to her neck and shoulders from the hanging. When she recovers, she learns that the executioner's wife, Tamsin, is the witch Maleficent and has repudiated magic. She also learns that the curse on Princess Aurora is not a curse but a blessing to keep the Princess from becoming as evil and corrupt as her parents. Tamsin enlists Whitney to help the curse that is a blessing take effect.

By Tamsin's magic, she is transported to the castle. She tells the Princess what is going to happen. Aurora is defensive but then admits that she knows of the evil her parents have fallen to and willingly pricks her finger on a spinner wheel Tamsin has magically supplied. Whitney also serves as conduit for eight serving women who were killed by the King and Queen for bringing sewing implements close to the Princess. The women, in the form of superhuman ghouls, kill the King and his guards; the Queen leaps from a window to her death to avoid them. Knowing justice is done, they transform from ghouls to angelic-appearing being and disappear.

An underground insurgency that had been waiting for the proper moment arises gains control of the kingdom. The people support them and they prove just and benevolent rulers. They place Aurora in a sleeping chamber to await the kiss of a prince, which happens six years later. Aurora offers Whitney a place in the palace, but she declines the offer and returns to Tamsin's village, marries, and chooses a quiet life. Aurora and her husband rule their kingdom justly. So, I guess you could say everyone lived happily ever after.

The story appeared in a print journal, Mystic Signals, Issue #24,and is available. Get a copy here.

For more titles, see my Writer's Page.

To read a revised story from the New Testament, get a copy of The Prophetess. A young girl is possessed by a spirit and is a prophetess. How did she become possessed? What was the dynamic of her ability to tell fortunes? And how is she finally freed?

I would love to hear your comments.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer, #105. Ferity and Civilization. "The Feral Girl."

Ancient statue of Romulus and Remus nursing

Stories of feral human beings—human beings who grow up without the amenities of civilization or even of human care—are something we have always found fascinating. The Romans had, as a founding myth, the story of Romulus and Remus, two baby boys who were abandoned in the woods and raised by a she-wolf. They grew up fierce as wolves, and Romulus went on to found the city of Rome, which had as its symbol, a wolf. Millennia later, Tarzan, raised by apes, would become a well-known figure in fantasy culture. And on occasion, stories of children raised by animals crop up—some dubious but some apparently confirmed.

In "The Feral Girl," I exploited the old idea of children taken from civilization and becoming wild once more. The influences were many. I had written and published a story some called "Ferity," in a now-defunct magazine, Earthspeak. In that tale, a highly successful CEO spends time in a friend's cabin out in the wilderness and experiences a certain amount of ferity, which in this story is simply feeling close to nature and to natural rhythms and currents. She returns to her job more in touch with her primal instincts, more able to function effectively in the wilderness of the corporate world. This story shared some of that idea, but it dealt with a child, not an adult. I had listened to a book on tape called Outposts by British author Simon Winchester, famous for his books Krakatoa and The Professor and the Madman.

Outposts was about the remnants of the once vast British Empire. Remarkably, there still is a British Empire, but it mostly consists of small islands in remote places around the world. Winchester visits and writes on these sites. In one part of the book, he sails in a yacht to some remote islands in the Indian ocean; one, Diego Garcia, that was seized by the British. The British built a joint monitoring base there with the Americans and evicted the local population. Winchester sails there, his boat is impounded, and he has various run-ins with bureaucrats and military personnel before finally being towed out of the area and told not to return.

Island in the Chagos Archipelago

In "The Feral Girl," the main character, Geoffrey, is sailing with his girlfriend, Edith. They stop at one of the islands in the Chagos Archipelago, near Diego Garcia, knowing they are in a restricted area. Geoffrey paints and the two of them enjoy the unspoiled environment. Soon, however, they realize they are not alone. They find droppings that look human and eventually see a child, naked, furtive, and elusive, near them. Thinking she might have survived a ship wreck and is traumatized, but not wanting to call the British authorities because they are there illegally, they make a successful attempt to befriend the girl, who eventually allows them to feed and clothe her. She is particularly attracted to Edith, the basic need of a child (she looks about eight) being the love and care of a mother.

The girl, whose name is Sophia, eventually trust them and opens up to them. She begins to talk and tell her story. They learn her family was sailing about the area. Her father, she says, was "making a movie" the island. She survived (none of the others on the boat did) and, they later found out, had lived alone on the island for fourteen months. Edith, who in her teen years had gotten pregnant and given her child up for adoption, bonds with Sophia. As they expected, the British navy does show up, recognizes the girl and are astonished, and tow them to the main base on Diego Garcia.

US/British base at Diego Garcia

There they learn more.  The film father had been making a film was critical of the British government and their deportation of the native population from the islands. Their boat was caught in a storm and all of them perished save the girl, who had survived on the island. She has relatives, Geoffrey and Edith are told, who are flying out to take the girl with them.

Edith thinks of Sophia in terms of the child she bore and has never seen (she will not be allowed to contact the child for another eight years). She knows, of course, that seeing Sophia as a surrogate for the child she lost will not work. Still, her pain is apparent to Geoffrey. They meet the parents. The father is a Member of Parliament, so they know it would be pointless to make a claim of custody. The family, though, seem to be decent, compassionate people and Geoffrey realizes it would be wrong to show them rudeness or contest their claim on Edith. After a meeting, Sophia leaves. Geoffrey and Edith are escorted out of the territorial waters of the Chagos Archipelago and told not to return.

They sail off, hoping the best for Sophia. Edith aches for her loss of long ago. The sea around them quiet and stretching out in all directions.

The story was published in an online journal called The Feathered Flounder. I can now find no record of it. I wrote a blog on the story, "Ferity." Read it here, You might be able to order a copy of "Ferity" here. The link works but I'm not sure if the offer is still active.

For more titles, see my Writer's Page.

Some great summer reading would include The Sorceress of Time. A warrior princess is fighting a battle with treacherous invaders and with her own fear and uncertainty. She will find the key to the future--and to her doubts--when she visits the past.

I would love to hear your comments.

Happy reading.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #104: Encountering the Supernatural: "The Harbor Seals."

In the story, "The Harbor Seals," I returned to my ongoing character, Sossity Chandler. I have published over thirty stories about her and the stories take place at various times in her life, so I have constructed a character biography that I often consult so I don't contradict things. In this story comes at a time in her life when Sossity is having what we call a "celebrity melt-down." She has risen from obscurity to become a superstar celebrity with a string of number-one hits, a popular band, a husband and two children. Then her world collapses. Her husband leaves her after an affair with one of her best friends, who was a roommate in college. Sossity begins to drink and engage in outrageous behavior. She ends up in jail for a couple of DUIs and has her driver's license suspended. She almost dies from a drinking bout that brings on alcohol poisoning. Or course, the public revels in her suffering. She then emerges from court with a disagreeable divorce settlement that splits custody of her children in such a way that she does not see them for long periods of time.

A friend of hers, Daya, who has had a spiritual awakening in her life a few years back, lets her stay at a remote cabin on the coast of California. Sossity takes several bottles of whisky and goes to be alone, to write down some thought—and to get drunk.

She gets drunk, but also is impressed, in her sober moments, with the beauty of nature. The place she is staying is known for the harbor seals that live along the shoreline. She sees them in the morning light. Thought not feeling particularly creative, she does respond to their presence:

 She hoped to write but had only managed one haiku in four days:

the horizon moves

a seal’s sleek form on the beach

ebony alive

Not the best haiku ever written, she thought, but when you’re stone-staggering drunk you can’t expect to do a whole lot better.

Sossity also learns that a pack of feral dogs has been killing the seals and sometimes attacking bathers and campers in the area. She drinks herself into a stupor one night.When she gets up in the morning, she finds the feral dogs have come through the door to Daya's cabin. Terrified, she screams, shouts, and throws anything she can find at them. They snarl and bark, but her efforts finally drive them away. Rattled, she sits down. Noting how messy she has allowed the cabin to become, she straightens the place up, showers, and dresses in new clothes. She goes down to a place called the Harbor Inn. On the way she passes two harbor seals who stare at her with curiosity.

At the inn, she meets two people, Anjani and Vasava, who look to be Bengali. She invites them to sit with her. They are, they say, from across the Indian ocean and have heard of Daya, whom they describe as "a venerable holy woman.” Anjani plays and has brought along her guitar, a beautiful old Gibson that is a collector's item, which the couple say they found washed up on a beach and repaired and restored. She plays what she says is a folk song of her people. Sossity replies that it is one of the most beautiful songs she has ever heard and asks if Anjani will teach it to her. She replies that Sossity will remember it.

In the midst of their conversation, Vasava abruptly tells her that her resolution to make things right is a good one. Sossity replies that she has "said some stupid things." Anjani says she understands. Her people, she says, "have suffered much through the ages.  We have been killed and hunted, our lands have been taken from us, the environments we live in fouled and destroyed.  We have survived by patience and by living close to nature.  The song that appealed to you so much was a hymn that praises nature but that also evokes the flow of her order and her embrace."

Sossity plays some of her songs on the Gibson guitar. A crowd gathers. Her fans comfort and encourage her. After she has finished, she goes to her car to get a notebook and write down Anjani and Vasava's address. When she returns, they are gone. She finds Anjani's guitar and this note:

Sossity—we are sorry we left without saying good-bye, but we needed to go. The guitar is yours. Keep it as a token of our love. We want you to have it. Play it and remember all we talked about. The two of us are returning to our people. Remember us, despite this rudeness. You will find healing with patience, as we have. You will thrive and grow by your allegiance to doing what is right. You think you were the loser for doing what was right. Such is not the case. You are stronger and closer to being a truly holy woman yourself with your pursuit of what is in keeping with propriety. When you play the guitar, remember this.

                                                                        ----Anjani and Vasava

She looks for them. She does not see them. But she does see two harbor seals flippering their way down the back and sliding into the water. When they are gone, the tune they hummed for her returns to her mind. She will eventually record it as the lead song to a new release that marks the beginning of her comeback as an artist and her return to stability.

The story was scheduled to appear in Stupefying Stories but the journal went on hiatus and the tale never was published. This is the first blog I've written on a story that never got into print! I'll have to start submitting it again.

For additional titles, see my Writer's Page.

One of the best "Sossity" stories I've written, and one of my earliest publications, is "The Snow Demon"--a horror story reprinted by Zimbell House. Get a copy here.

I would love to hear your comments.

Happy reading.

Dave's Anatomy: My History As a Writer #103: Religion and Outer Space: "Antigone"

One of my earliest blogs was titled "A Funny Thing Happened on the way to Dagobah . . . or, How Science Fiction Got Religion" (read here). Early science fiction writers like Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clark, and a host of lesser lights depicted the future in outer space as devoid of religion. In their stories, religion is simply gone, a relic that has passed off the scene along with mule trains and triremes. The supreme expression of this assumption was a story by Lester Del Ray called "Evensong," in which a desperate being is fleeing from pursuers, finds a planet where he thinks he is safe, but then is captured. Quoting from that blog:  His benevolent captor tells him he will be taken to a planet where he will be well-treated and have a nice home. The creature whimpers pathetically, "But I'm God!" His captor returns, "Yes, but I am Man." The story appeared in Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison. You can read it here.

So it was and still is in some science fiction. But the funny thing that happened was that science fiction suddenly became laced with religion. This was first apparent, at least to me, in Star Wars, where we learned about the Force, met the Jedi (who were rather like Shaolin monks), and encountered Yoda (whose name sounded like Yoga and who greatly resembled a Zen master). Religion, banished in the 1950s and 1960s, suddenly made a rather spectacular comeback.

Antigone, from the play

My story "Antigone" happily inhabits this new world where to talk about religion is okay. In my science fiction world-building, various religions thrive. The Mervogian races worships the "holy light" of the Besrid nebula. Numerous planets kneel before the Goddess Robinna. Earth, of course, has transported its religions into space. Some alien races have accepted earthly religion. The Barzalian and Golorian planetary systems have converted to Roman Catholicism—the Barzalians expressing the Catholicism of Saint Francis, the Golorians that of Cortez and the Conquistadors. Other religions exist in various places. Again, quoting my own writing, The human race … has always had religions. To assume religion will simply go away because people can fly into space seems a bit specious. And to assume other civilizations would not have religions is equally specious.

"Antigone" takes place on a colony planet that is part of the Earth-led Terran Alliance. In my world, the predominant race of the Terran Alliance, the most populous and influential, is the Indian race. The most common religion is Hinduism (though there is a significant "European" minority and all races have equal status). On Planet Antigone, a cult has grown up that worships the figure of Antigone. It draws mostly from the European population of the Indian-dominated planet, but attracts people from all faiths. They have Temples, icons of the goddess, and many converts. The government is tolerant, but the Thebans (followers of Antigone, who came from that city) are militant. When the government begins to develop a grove that Thebans consider sacred, they revolt.

Thebans: Antigone worshipers

Their revolt is well-planned. They surprise the army, win some initial victories and, as terrorists often do, take hostages. One of the hostages is Asha, the wife of Lorac, an army officer who is the main character of the story. She is a doctor.

The military counterattacks. They find the followers of Antigone are not well-trained. They are, however, led by a formidable military commander named Evangeline Müller. After some fierce fighting, the Terran military manages to surround the main force of Thebans. A group of commandos infiltrate the camp and find out the Antigone worshipers are in collusion with a hostile race of beings, the Housali, who are supplying them with arms. They also find out why many of the Theban militants claimed to have seen Antigone. The Housali have selected a young woman to impersonate her. They have done plastic surgery to make her look like images of Antigone. They also give her mind-altering drugs that enable her to project mental energy that induces a peaceful, ecstatic feelings in anyone close to her. The Thebans believe their blissful, supernal feelings come from being near the goddess. They are ready to give up everything and to die for her.

The Terran military also finds a Housali ship, with cloaking capabilities, moored in the middle of the Theban camp. And Lorcan sees the captured Asha. He controls his desire to liberate her.The Terrans seize the Housali ship and rescue Asha. She is quiet. After a while, Lorac realizes the Housali have sexually assaulted her.

Using the ship's monitor, they find the location of Evangeline Müller and capture her. The revolt dissolved without her leadership. The Terrans also capture the Housali woman who impersonates Antigone.

The aftermath of the revolt brings stern retribution. Insurgents are punished with death or imprisonment. The woman who impersonated Antigone is acquitted of all guilt because the Housali forced her, a slave, to participate in the ruse. Evangeline Müller is tried for treason and sentenced to be hanged. Lorac goes to her to tell her that neither he nor Asha bear her any ill will. She has been told that the guards who will execute her are planning to conduct the hanging in such a way that she slowly strangles to death. Lorac knows the soldier assigned to do the execution. She pleads with him to intervene for her so he will make it quick. Thinking of all the suffering Müller has caused, and what happened to his wife, he is reluctant but agrees and successfully intervenes on her part. When she is executed, she dies instantly. Asha is asked, at the last minute, to participate in the autopsy that certifies her death.

At the end, he and Asha pay a tribute to her. They realize how people are caught up in falsity and how all of us are vulnerable to deception. The ceremony they perform indicates Evangeline has been forgiven. The planet is renamed Gargi Vachaknu, after a Hindu sage. Worship of Antigone is severely restricted, though not forbidden.

The story appeared in Fiction on the Web. Read it here.

For more titles, see my Writer's Page.

Coming soon:  the sequel to my vampire novel, Sinfonia: The First Notes on the Lute. Read the first book in the series to prepare you for the second one.

Happy summer.

Happy reading.