The New Death and others (12 page)

like moss upon a tomb.

They held his hands as firmly as

a baby in a womb.

Her fingers grew around his hands

until he stood enmeshed.

They gave no gentle, subtle stroke

but dug into his flesh.

Then hateful faces crowded round

and hands reached from the mud

and snarling mouths spilled vine-like
tongues

to gorge upon his blood.

The hungry mouths and grasping hands

of lady, lord and thrall

and others that the king had killed

for reasons weak and small.

For reasons weak and reasons small

and reasons now forgotten.

Adompha smelled the scent of death

heavy, hot, and rotten.

---

Thuloneah rose up from the ground

and watched Adompha die.

She wrapped him in her handless arms

and took him down to lie

forever in her lightless house

among the angry dead

to find no joy, just dark and cold

within his final bed.

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The New Magazine

In the year 20__ a new magazine appeared
which only published half-completed stories.

At last, every author who could never finish
anything had a place to submit. The stories were the ideal length
for those who always stopped reading halfway through.

Its major rival was the magazine that
published the last pages of mysteries. This was popular with people
who just wanted to find out who did it.

In the end the magazine which only published
the well-written parts of fan-fiction sent them both out of
business. It had no expenses, since there was never anything in
it.

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The Perfect Woman

Once upon a time there was a young man who
loved a young woman. For a while she loved him too. But soon she
left him. After a time he lost contact with her.

Then he decided he wanted her back. Many
times he thought he saw her. But it was always someone else. He
searched for her name on the internet. Either she had changed her
name, or she had no interest in facebook and the like. He even
looked through the phone directory. He wrote to the addresses where
she might live, thinking that ringing her might be too intrusive.
She did not live at any of those places, or did not want to talk to
him.

He is still looking. In fact she works near
his office, and he often sees her buying lunch or walking by. He
does not recognise her. She has aged as he has aged, but the image
in his mind has not. So the man passes her by without a second
look, as if she is nothing to do with what he seeks. As indeed she
is not, and never was.

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The Lamb's Speech

"O animal-lover," said the lamb

"Yours is a strange affection.

You eat the corpse of what you love

and see no contradiction."

"O animal-lover," said the lamb

"Yours is an awful kindness

that wraps itself in sentiment

and feeds itself in blindness."

"O animal-lover," said the lamb

"You wear our skin as clothing.

How may we tell your gentle love

apart from bitter loathing?"

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Legend: The Story of Kevin
Marley

Once upon a time there was a man named Kevin
Marley. Though Kevin loved his older brother Bob, Bob's fame put
Kevin under a lot of pressure. Everyone expected Kevin to be a
talented, free-spirited voice of a generation like his brother.
Kevin felt like there was a boring, small-minded and uptight man
inside him; a man who the world would never allow to come out.

One day Kevin was having tea with his friends
Chloe Hendrix and Dennis Mix-a-lot. They had the same family
problems he did. Suddenly he had an idea.

"I say you fellows!" he said. "Why don't we
record an album together?"

"But Kevin," Chloe replied. "We have neither
funk nor soul. We lack both beats and rhymes. Such an album would
be a travesty."

"Why, that's the entire point. When everyone
sees how vapid and plodding we are, they won't expect anything more
from us."

---

Across unnameable gulfs of space and time,
the demon stirred.

---

With such famous names it was easy to get
studio time and a record contract. Sadly the arts section of the
New Yorker
reviewed the three friends' first CD. They called
it a knowing deconstruction of the vacuity of celebrity culture.
Millions of goatee-stroking iPad owners bought it, and Kevin and
his friends became famous overnight. Soon everyone's expectations
were even higher.

"By Jove, Kevin," said Dennis, as they waited
backstage to receive yet another award, "your plan has certainly
landed us in hot water."

---

Dennis' words were truer than he knew. Barry
Hawking and Todd Einstein had been working for months on a glam
metal album. It was the crassest and most ignorant collection of
songs ever recorded. The liner notes misspelled 'boobs'. The two
musicians knew that, at last, the world would no longer expect them
to be serious intellectuals. But, only a few days before its
release date, Kevin and his friends took the world by storm. No one
paid any attention to Barry and Todd's album. Their work was for
nothing, and they swore to take revenge.

---

The demon floated in the void. Neither alive
nor dead, it waited. Waited for a mortal to speak its name.

---

"Right-oh," said Kevin, "We've only got one
more chance. This follow-up album has to be terrible."

"Yes, I suppose so," Dennis said glumly.

"What's the matter old chum?" asked
Kevin.

"Well...what if they're right? What if we
really
are
incredibly talented?"

"Chin up Dennis. Just because someone in your
family can do something, that doesn't mean you can."

"Yes, buck up," Chloe added. "Everyone says
we can do it. Well, we'll just have to show them they're
wrong."

"Gosh chaps, I suppose you're right. Why, we
could make...a disco concept album inspired by
Lord of the
Rings
!"

"That's the spirit. And all the songs could
be parodies of show tunes!" added Chloe.

"Those are good ideas," said Kevin, deep in
thought. "But we need something more."

---

Todd Einstein asked his brother Albert to
help. But Albert had just completed his Theory of Relativity, which
said that he didn't have to help his relatives.

"Ask Steven Hawking," he said. But Steven
Hawking was busy rehearsing for his poetry slam.

"Ask Richard Dawkins," he said. But Richard
Dawkins said his horoscope warned against starting new projects
this month.

"Bah! We've tried everyone in the university
Science Department," Todd grumbled.

"Why don't we try the Pseudoscience
Department?" asked Barry. So off they went.

---

Kevin frowned, and paced the studio.

"I just...there's a worse style of music. I
just
know
there is."

---

The Pseudoscience Department was on the other
side of the university, next to Economics. Their building was the
first one in the world constructed using the healing power of
magnets. It often fell down, but only because people didn't believe
in it. Unfortunately for the two friends the Department used
homeopathic teaching methods: the less anyone turned up, the more
everyone learned. Thus there was only one professor in the whole
building. Barry and Todd explained their problem.

"Well this is easy," said the professor. "You
have to implant ideas in their minds using ESP."

"Goodness Professor, we wouldn't have any
idea how to do that. Can you show us how?"

"Of course. First, what's the worst idea that
this Kevin fellow could have?" The two musicians thought for a
moment.

"Well," Todd said at last. "I'd say the worst
idea he could have would be to make an album where the music is
entirely samples of dogs barking, sped up and slowed down to make a
melody."

"Oh, and all the music is Christmas carols,"
Barry added.

"Very well. Now sit down, and close your
eyes. Try and picture him in your mind..."

---

"Remixes that are just the original song with
louder drums?"

"William Shatner doing spoken word?"

"No, no. Oh crumbs, something worse than
either of those."

---

"I think it's working!" Barry exclaimed. "I
can see them! They're in a studio!"

"So can I!" said Todd.

"That's it boys," the Professor replied.
"Focus your minds even harder. Think of the idea as an arrow, and
think of it flying into Kevin's head."

---

"Of course!" Kevin gave a cry of joy. "We
could make an album where the music is entirely samples of dogs
barking, sped up and slowed down to make a melody, and all the
music is Christmas carols!"

"Hurrah! That's a splendid idea!" Chloe and
Dennis cried.

---

The three friends kept the details of their
new album secret. They knew that if their record company found out,
they might make them change it. Or, worse, they could scrap the
project entirely. Then it would become a legendary 'lost album',
which the corporate suits destroyed because they didn't understand
it.

The secrecy created more expectation than any
advertising could have done. Fans camped out for days to be first
in line to buy it.

---

In the abyss, the demon's many eyes flew
open. It felt ecstasy beyond any in its million-year existence.
Someone was speaking its name, yes, and this was delight enough.
But it was somehow both one voice, and thousands. It was as if the
whole world spoke as one, summoning it into the world to destroy.
The demon's blood burned with power.
Woof-woof-woof-grr-rowf-grr-bark gave a groan of malevolent joy,
and began to manifest.

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The Construction Workers
of Telelee

Once upon a time, a delegation of the women
of Telelee went to the houses of all the guilds. They went to the
grand lodges of the blacksmiths, and the robot-makers, and the
menders of clocks. They went to the modest lodges of the urban
mythmakers, and the writers of signs with unnecessary apostrophe's,
and the sprinklers of insect parts in chocolate. They went even to
the tiny lodges of the consultants, and the promoters of synergy,
and the writers of mission statements (tiny, for the customs of
Telelee are strange: such trades are considered to be of little
use, and there are but a few who practice them). And to all the
guilds the women said the same thing:

"O guild of the city, you must do something
about the construction workers!"

The behavior of the construction workers was
indeed scandalous. Uncouth and obnoxious men, they would shout
things at female passers-by.

"I'm looking for a real commitment, and enjoy
giving massages!" one might shout, or "I work out regularly, and
would enjoy going shopping with you!" By so doing, they rendered
the women unhappy with their current partners, and created much
strife and discord.

"Indeed, this is bringing unhappiness into
the homes of all, and we shall try to stop it," said the
blacksmiths.

"We have to do something about these
guy's!!!!!" said the writers of signs with unnecessary apostrophe's
(in a strong Comic Sans accent).

"We've got to think outside the square. Don't
work
harder
, work
smarter
. Let's do a trust
exercise," said the consultants. But the women were happy with two
out of three.

Thus the guilds engaged in a campaign against
the odious construction industry. The urban mythmakers told
everyone that one time their cousin hired a group of construction
workers, and they totally stole his kidneys. Thus people feared the
construction workers, and would not give them work. The clockmakers
would only supply them with the clocks used by coachmen (and in our
world by airlines), so that they always arrived four hours after
they said they would. The tailors refused to sell construction
workers their special work shorts. Thus they had to wear normal
shorts, and their upper buttocks received no sunlight.

"Enough!" said the guild of construction
workers at last. "Giving women unrealistic expectations is the main
reason we got into the job to be honest. It's no fun any more." And
they all left to write novels about vampires. Thus the guilds and
the women met, to decide how they could find someone to do the
construction jobs, without ending up with the same problem.

"We can help!" said someone from the guild of
robot-makers.

Everyone agreed that was a fine idea. The
guild worked hard for many months, and at last supplied a robot
workforce. For a time, all was well. But one day a man was walking
by a construction site, when he heard

"Hey! Hey!" The man looked up, to see a robot
construction worker.

"Could an all-powerful God make an object so
heavy that He could not move it?" shouted the robot.