I quote this from another thread I started called "Questions regarding short story":
Well, I have decided to put the story up. I want to emphasise that I was not aware of any of these issues being part of my conscious or subconscious at the time. I am new to this forum, have never been on any other forums like this before and, at the time, 10 years ago, thought I was just making up a story. I was in a town that I didn't particularly want to be in, waiting for my boyfriend at the time, and to entertain myself I decided to try out writing short stories. I wrote 9 or 10 in about a month - most of which were not at all like this one. But this one I am putting up has kept coming back at me over the years and now that I have started reading some of the articles and messages on this site, it seems even more strange to me. I am not a writer, nor do I consider myself to have any particular creative talents, that is not the reason why I am putting this up. I am putting it up to see what explanations might arise as to why I wrote it. I personally think that I must have somehow picked up certain ideas or concepts from somewhere, they swilled about inside me and were thrown out like a dream in writing.
Please also note that all the names were made up, I picked them because I thought they sounded appropriate. It will probably seem hard for anyone that reads this to believe that I didn't know that the words "Arcadians" and "Ixthus" had any real significance to them. It certainly seems strange to me that I used them without knowing any meaning to them. It is only since that I have become aware that there are attached meanings to these words and to this day I don't really know much about either words.
I also feel a bit wary to put anything I've written up but well, here it is:
PART 1: DUBAIJI
The plant was a relic from the Arcadian era, dating back to around 8500 BC. It was one plant that had been largely overlooked by botanists – they had studied its form and nature of growth but not much beyond that. The botanists of today refer to it as the Ixthus plant and not its proper name which is Dubaiji.
In Arcadian times, this plant was highly revered and to have one was not only a question of honour but also one of immense responsibility.
The Arcadians had never come across any difficulties and it was impossible for the other tribes to war against them due to the properties of this plant, which the Arcadians understood completely. Due to this, a large part of the present day population are actually descendents of the Arcadians and the language remains spoken, though in mutated form, by a few. However, the majority of Arcadian attributes, traditions, characteristics have been forgotten completely.
The Tulin society, a small group of people from various countries, fascinated by the history and development of society since the Arcadians, retreated to the Andes to study together the Arcadian era and the Dubaiji plant. This society was originally formed by a man who had been working in the Vatican and had found some drawings and writings of the Arcadians. He had stolen these and retreated to Paris, where he spent several years deciphering the pictures and words.
It seemed to Francisco that the Arcadians were primarily interested in Alchemy and that the majority of people dedicated their lives to this. It was not particularly clear why, though the effects of the Dubaiji plant perhaps explained some of the reasons why.
The effect of this plant, when mixed and prepared in a certain way, still not completely understood by the Tulin Society, would produce a perfume that when smelt had several reactions in humans. It would arouse a strong desire for peace and provoke a deep sensation of empathy. If the perfume was highly concentrated, it would open the individual up to the psychogenetic fields, or the “collective unconscious”, as psychologists call it.
The effect of this upon the individual and the whole was not yet determined, nor was it clear to what extent this was possible; whether it was possible to see into the future as much as it was possible to see into the past.
The Tulin society planted several Dubaiji plants in various places, a few even in cities, and are, as far as we know, still carrying out their searches in some remote part of the Andes.
PART 2: WHAT PLACE DWELLS FOR THESE BEINGS?
“What can we do to help them?” Father Sergius said to his daughter, “I’ve tried so many things but nothing seems to calm them down, they’ve been hiding away in the top floor of this church for 3 years now, they don’t want to go out, they get restless staying here, everything upsets them – noise, silence, light, dark, warmth, coldness. It’s like they’re permanently ill, they can’t die, they can’t live.....oh, it’s so horrible...”
Father Sergius was a kind man, he had agreed to help the Wayanis when he met one of them four years ago. In those days, the Wayanis lived in a disused warehouse in the suburbs. Father Sergius had found them by sheer coincidence, he had been doing some evangelising in the suburbs when out of the corner of his eye he saw an incredibly beautiful flower growing, it seemed, in the most hostile conditions for flowers. A curious man himself, he walked over to examine it. He was bending over it studying its petals when he’d suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He’d turned round and was startled by what he saw: it looked like an extremely thin and malnourished man covered in a dark and dirty moth-eaten cape. The two had stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Father Sergius will never forget this moment and what he had seen in the creature’s eyes. He saw pain and suffering as he had never seen before, and at the same moment he felt his heart burning as if on fire. Father Sergius, who had seen much suffering in his life and had always managed to maintain at least a certain amount of composure, broke down and began to cry. The creature stayed with him, hovering anxiously over him while he curled himself into a ball, clutching his knees and trembling. The Wayani then turned Father Sergius’ face towards him and gently wiped his tears and they looked at each other once again and in this instant Father Sergius recognized two things: that the whole of his life experience and learning would not enable him to help this being but that, regardless of this, he would devote all his energies into helping him.
The Wayani never spoke much about anything, neither about where they were from; nor what the roots of their pain were; nor what intentions they may or may not have had.
It was very hard for Father Sergius as he desperately wanted to help them. But he did not know how to and nor did they; all he knew was that they had about ten bottles of a pale blue liquid that they would administer to one another when their states of being became particularly agitated. He did not believe that this blue liquid helped them in the long run as, after the effect wore off, they became even more restless. Father Sergius had once forbid them to take it but Jaramo, the one he was closest to, began turning a sickly yellow colour and choking as if to death. Where this liquid had come from was not known to Father Sergius, but one thing was clear to him: it was running out.
PART 3 of “WHAT PLACE DWELLS FOR THESE BEINGS?”
Have you seen those creatures?
They lurk and skulk in darkened corners
Grasping tightly to a blanket
That half covers their face
From fear.
Their eyes have a manic, frantic look
Searching, seeking, suspicious eyes
Pendulum eyes, sweeping
Round and round to see
What’s about.
Sullen are their faces
Grey in colour, dirt on their hands
A molten grime on their clothes
At night they shiver and prance about
At day they sweat profusely and droop
Like withered plants
At first they sip from the cup of oblivion
And, within a short while, they are taking
Gulps, as fast as they can, only
Coming back for gasps of air.
Their minds bending over, for the breath of life
And the sweet poison of death.
What place dwells for these beings
Who are neither comforted by day or night
And yet who move in continual circles
Like the sun and the moon and all
The seasons?
“I can feel them walking about at the top of the church, each movement they make registers inside me, I know their pain.....they don’t know about me though, no, not yet, they haven’t transgressed that far and besides they’re not even aware of anything yet....Oh, of course, I should perhaps introduce myself. I’m Tomas – I’ve been wandering these parts a lot longer than you could ever imagine, I’m from where they’re from, from where everything is from in fact......the thing is, hmm, how can I put it? It’s like a cycle, you know, like egg to larva to caterpillar to butterfly. Basically, this is what happens in life and there’s no point trying to rush the stages before you’re ready to move on. Which is what they did.....they haven’t dealt with anything they should have done...they were eager to bend the boundaries of space and time before they could have even conceived of the consequences. Not that they were without reason to escape and explore other possibilities but that’s beside the point quite frankly...”
“Ergh,” coughed Father Sergius, “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“Yes, I was afraid that might happen,” said Tomas, “I have difficulty in communicating in words, you see, it’s a form I’m no longer used to. It’s too slow and lacking in vital expressions and I tend to just rush in an attempt to get it out all at once. I’m sorry, would you like me to start again?”
“No, it’s alright,” answered Father Sergius, “I don’t mean to be rude but I’m more interested in knowing whether they’ll get better, can you help them?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” said Tomas, “You see, aside from all their bending time and space which has distorted and confused their minds, they’ve also been playing around with a very strong chemical which they got from the Arcadians. But, unlike the Arcadians, they did not use it wisely. They were greedy for knowledge and to know the insides of people’s hearts – their desires, fears, pain. There is nothing bad about that in itself but as I said, things go in stages and they were not ready for that either. The knowledge crucified them. The Arcadians had made an antidote for this – the blue liquid you see them drinking – Azeyote, it’s called, which means oblivion. It’s not really strong enough and only has a temporary effect of short duration thankfully. The Arcadians were not stupid.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Father Sergius, “why do you say “thankfully”? Surely, it’d be better for them to be free of this pain?”
“Well....yes and no...True, they can’t go on forever in this extreme pain but no, it’d be useless for them to be in this oblivion...it’s not healthy, you see, it’s a great hindrance in fact...they’re merely slowing down the process they were so eager to rush, they’ve totally screwed it up and unbalanced themselves.”
“But won’t they be damaged for good? Jaramo looked awful when he stopped taking it”
“No, but they’ll be in agony. They can survive it though.”
“So, why are you here now?”
“Well, once they’ve stopped taking the azeyote, I’d like them to consider an inhalation of the essence of Dubaiji, the Arcadians’ chemical.”
“But why on earth do you want them to do that when this was precisely what got them into so much trouble?” asked Father Sergius.
“They haven’t seen far into the future yet.”
“But won’t that destroy them again? Surely there’s only more pain and destruction ahead?”
“For a long time, yes, and then, well, it’s quite extraordinary, things begin to be....”
“What?” asked Father Sergius.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out” Tomas looked at him, winked and went on his way, humming a little melody to himself.
Well, I have decided to put the story up. I want to emphasise that I was not aware of any of these issues being part of my conscious or subconscious at the time. I am new to this forum, have never been on any other forums like this before and, at the time, 10 years ago, thought I was just making up a story. I was in a town that I didn't particularly want to be in, waiting for my boyfriend at the time, and to entertain myself I decided to try out writing short stories. I wrote 9 or 10 in about a month - most of which were not at all like this one. But this one I am putting up has kept coming back at me over the years and now that I have started reading some of the articles and messages on this site, it seems even more strange to me. I am not a writer, nor do I consider myself to have any particular creative talents, that is not the reason why I am putting this up. I am putting it up to see what explanations might arise as to why I wrote it. I personally think that I must have somehow picked up certain ideas or concepts from somewhere, they swilled about inside me and were thrown out like a dream in writing.
Please also note that all the names were made up, I picked them because I thought they sounded appropriate. It will probably seem hard for anyone that reads this to believe that I didn't know that the words "Arcadians" and "Ixthus" had any real significance to them. It certainly seems strange to me that I used them without knowing any meaning to them. It is only since that I have become aware that there are attached meanings to these words and to this day I don't really know much about either words.
I also feel a bit wary to put anything I've written up but well, here it is:
PART 1: DUBAIJI
The plant was a relic from the Arcadian era, dating back to around 8500 BC. It was one plant that had been largely overlooked by botanists – they had studied its form and nature of growth but not much beyond that. The botanists of today refer to it as the Ixthus plant and not its proper name which is Dubaiji.
In Arcadian times, this plant was highly revered and to have one was not only a question of honour but also one of immense responsibility.
The Arcadians had never come across any difficulties and it was impossible for the other tribes to war against them due to the properties of this plant, which the Arcadians understood completely. Due to this, a large part of the present day population are actually descendents of the Arcadians and the language remains spoken, though in mutated form, by a few. However, the majority of Arcadian attributes, traditions, characteristics have been forgotten completely.
The Tulin society, a small group of people from various countries, fascinated by the history and development of society since the Arcadians, retreated to the Andes to study together the Arcadian era and the Dubaiji plant. This society was originally formed by a man who had been working in the Vatican and had found some drawings and writings of the Arcadians. He had stolen these and retreated to Paris, where he spent several years deciphering the pictures and words.
It seemed to Francisco that the Arcadians were primarily interested in Alchemy and that the majority of people dedicated their lives to this. It was not particularly clear why, though the effects of the Dubaiji plant perhaps explained some of the reasons why.
The effect of this plant, when mixed and prepared in a certain way, still not completely understood by the Tulin Society, would produce a perfume that when smelt had several reactions in humans. It would arouse a strong desire for peace and provoke a deep sensation of empathy. If the perfume was highly concentrated, it would open the individual up to the psychogenetic fields, or the “collective unconscious”, as psychologists call it.
The effect of this upon the individual and the whole was not yet determined, nor was it clear to what extent this was possible; whether it was possible to see into the future as much as it was possible to see into the past.
The Tulin society planted several Dubaiji plants in various places, a few even in cities, and are, as far as we know, still carrying out their searches in some remote part of the Andes.
PART 2: WHAT PLACE DWELLS FOR THESE BEINGS?
“What can we do to help them?” Father Sergius said to his daughter, “I’ve tried so many things but nothing seems to calm them down, they’ve been hiding away in the top floor of this church for 3 years now, they don’t want to go out, they get restless staying here, everything upsets them – noise, silence, light, dark, warmth, coldness. It’s like they’re permanently ill, they can’t die, they can’t live.....oh, it’s so horrible...”
Father Sergius was a kind man, he had agreed to help the Wayanis when he met one of them four years ago. In those days, the Wayanis lived in a disused warehouse in the suburbs. Father Sergius had found them by sheer coincidence, he had been doing some evangelising in the suburbs when out of the corner of his eye he saw an incredibly beautiful flower growing, it seemed, in the most hostile conditions for flowers. A curious man himself, he walked over to examine it. He was bending over it studying its petals when he’d suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He’d turned round and was startled by what he saw: it looked like an extremely thin and malnourished man covered in a dark and dirty moth-eaten cape. The two had stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Father Sergius will never forget this moment and what he had seen in the creature’s eyes. He saw pain and suffering as he had never seen before, and at the same moment he felt his heart burning as if on fire. Father Sergius, who had seen much suffering in his life and had always managed to maintain at least a certain amount of composure, broke down and began to cry. The creature stayed with him, hovering anxiously over him while he curled himself into a ball, clutching his knees and trembling. The Wayani then turned Father Sergius’ face towards him and gently wiped his tears and they looked at each other once again and in this instant Father Sergius recognized two things: that the whole of his life experience and learning would not enable him to help this being but that, regardless of this, he would devote all his energies into helping him.
The Wayani never spoke much about anything, neither about where they were from; nor what the roots of their pain were; nor what intentions they may or may not have had.
It was very hard for Father Sergius as he desperately wanted to help them. But he did not know how to and nor did they; all he knew was that they had about ten bottles of a pale blue liquid that they would administer to one another when their states of being became particularly agitated. He did not believe that this blue liquid helped them in the long run as, after the effect wore off, they became even more restless. Father Sergius had once forbid them to take it but Jaramo, the one he was closest to, began turning a sickly yellow colour and choking as if to death. Where this liquid had come from was not known to Father Sergius, but one thing was clear to him: it was running out.
PART 3 of “WHAT PLACE DWELLS FOR THESE BEINGS?”
Have you seen those creatures?
They lurk and skulk in darkened corners
Grasping tightly to a blanket
That half covers their face
From fear.
Their eyes have a manic, frantic look
Searching, seeking, suspicious eyes
Pendulum eyes, sweeping
Round and round to see
What’s about.
Sullen are their faces
Grey in colour, dirt on their hands
A molten grime on their clothes
At night they shiver and prance about
At day they sweat profusely and droop
Like withered plants
At first they sip from the cup of oblivion
And, within a short while, they are taking
Gulps, as fast as they can, only
Coming back for gasps of air.
Their minds bending over, for the breath of life
And the sweet poison of death.
What place dwells for these beings
Who are neither comforted by day or night
And yet who move in continual circles
Like the sun and the moon and all
The seasons?
“I can feel them walking about at the top of the church, each movement they make registers inside me, I know their pain.....they don’t know about me though, no, not yet, they haven’t transgressed that far and besides they’re not even aware of anything yet....Oh, of course, I should perhaps introduce myself. I’m Tomas – I’ve been wandering these parts a lot longer than you could ever imagine, I’m from where they’re from, from where everything is from in fact......the thing is, hmm, how can I put it? It’s like a cycle, you know, like egg to larva to caterpillar to butterfly. Basically, this is what happens in life and there’s no point trying to rush the stages before you’re ready to move on. Which is what they did.....they haven’t dealt with anything they should have done...they were eager to bend the boundaries of space and time before they could have even conceived of the consequences. Not that they were without reason to escape and explore other possibilities but that’s beside the point quite frankly...”
“Ergh,” coughed Father Sergius, “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“Yes, I was afraid that might happen,” said Tomas, “I have difficulty in communicating in words, you see, it’s a form I’m no longer used to. It’s too slow and lacking in vital expressions and I tend to just rush in an attempt to get it out all at once. I’m sorry, would you like me to start again?”
“No, it’s alright,” answered Father Sergius, “I don’t mean to be rude but I’m more interested in knowing whether they’ll get better, can you help them?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” said Tomas, “You see, aside from all their bending time and space which has distorted and confused their minds, they’ve also been playing around with a very strong chemical which they got from the Arcadians. But, unlike the Arcadians, they did not use it wisely. They were greedy for knowledge and to know the insides of people’s hearts – their desires, fears, pain. There is nothing bad about that in itself but as I said, things go in stages and they were not ready for that either. The knowledge crucified them. The Arcadians had made an antidote for this – the blue liquid you see them drinking – Azeyote, it’s called, which means oblivion. It’s not really strong enough and only has a temporary effect of short duration thankfully. The Arcadians were not stupid.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Father Sergius, “why do you say “thankfully”? Surely, it’d be better for them to be free of this pain?”
“Well....yes and no...True, they can’t go on forever in this extreme pain but no, it’d be useless for them to be in this oblivion...it’s not healthy, you see, it’s a great hindrance in fact...they’re merely slowing down the process they were so eager to rush, they’ve totally screwed it up and unbalanced themselves.”
“But won’t they be damaged for good? Jaramo looked awful when he stopped taking it”
“No, but they’ll be in agony. They can survive it though.”
“So, why are you here now?”
“Well, once they’ve stopped taking the azeyote, I’d like them to consider an inhalation of the essence of Dubaiji, the Arcadians’ chemical.”
“But why on earth do you want them to do that when this was precisely what got them into so much trouble?” asked Father Sergius.
“They haven’t seen far into the future yet.”
“But won’t that destroy them again? Surely there’s only more pain and destruction ahead?”
“For a long time, yes, and then, well, it’s quite extraordinary, things begin to be....”
“What?” asked Father Sergius.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out” Tomas looked at him, winked and went on his way, humming a little melody to himself.
