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Nightmares in Human Shape

  • Posted on April 17, 2014 at 12:46 pm

It seems never ending, the lessons we can learn from Fairytales. But often, villains look human for the most part. A few are even more human (and handsome) than the prince himself! And we are expected to remember that fact. Because it’s truth. Often, in real life, villains are human shaped, and kind, and manipulative, and every bit our friend until suddenly they aren’t. It’s rather interesting how that works, don’t you think?

The evil stepmother, or in some cases just mother, is always human. Although she might be a sorceress, or an evil duchess, or even an evil old witch, she’s still human. And her magic isn’t the only thing she’s got going for her. Our trusting naivete allows her to actually trick us into believing she has the best at heart. How sad is it, when we see these heroines fall for it time and again?

The childhood friend can sometimes become this. Someone we’ve trusted for so long that we barely have to think anymore about the oddly ominous things they say. They’re close to our heart, and dear to us, so we can’t believe that they’d do something wrong or evil or indecent in any way. It makes sense, doesn’t it? That this person would ultimately betray us. Usually out of a form of jealousy. Either of what we have, or of someone else’s new closeness to us. How strange that we should see this most ugly of human emotions on the faces of those we trust.

The greedy leader is worst, though, because often, we are too small, too singular to actually make a difference against them. But sometimes, we manage. Sometimes, we can call enough people together to actually gain a voice, to actually shout out “WE WILL NOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” and step out of whatever chains this horrid person has put upon us. It’s always nice, then the searing freedom earned.

All of these archetypes call out to us to be defeated, to be broken. Because they are us, only twisted, us, but broken and wrong and just… not right. They are us at our worst, and we must always put forth the best will we have to avoid becoming such foul villains. We hate them because they remind us of our own humanity. They wear our faces in the dark, and we can see, so easily, the path that it takes for us to slip down and into their shoes. Never once do we realize that by seeing them as they are, we are choosing not to become these beasts, these wolves in sheep’s clothing.

So continue writing, drawing, showing these enemies in front of us. How else are our children to recognise the threat when they have never been taught not to trust blindly. How can we protect the princesses of the future if we do not teach them that anyone can possibly be an enemy? I, personally, prefer the adventure of not knowing, and of believing the best in those around me. Sometimes I am hurt, but I always get back up, stronger and surer.

Kraken in the Deep (or monsters just out of sight)

  • Posted on April 13, 2014 at 1:42 pm

There is a Kraken in the Deep. Monsters that dwell just out of sight, out of mind, and reaching out across nightmares with tendrils so pervasive that it seems almost as if they interlace the entirety of those dreaming worlds. They range the backdrop seeking, moving, while unnamed, unthanked actors fill your mind with dreary, drowning, dizzy thoughts, and you are paralyzed. These actors are the dead, recently disposed, none of which could move on before being trapped here between your thoughts and those horrid creatures, in the Deep. In the Dark.

Few set foot there, fewer still survive it when they do. Certain people thorughout the history of time have managed, but always they come back… twisted, not quite right. Not just in the head, either. Some come back with twisted bodies. One limb out of proportion, one limb rended too high or too low. The whole thing is beyond human comprehension, but perhaps that’s why the Kraken seek us out. Their minds need ours. Need that tantalizing transcendent thought process that allows us to ignore the lacing of their tentacles wrapped around our lives. Perhaps they crave what we have, life, love, adoration, notice, notariety. If this is the case, then why do they not speak in tongues other than whispered threats veiled beneath the sweet candy seduction of the world?

Or perhaps they are simply feeding. Like a frenzy of sharks, tearing us mind from mind, limb from limb, perhaps that is why they gather at the edges of our periphery, of our notice. Like Alice flailing down a dark hole, perhaps we too, are children lost in a garden far too dangerous for our comprehension. These creatures in the dark, these beings that dwell in the Deep places of the world. Perhaps they like us. Perhaps they wish us peace. In death, in dreaming, in desire. But that may not be the case. Long have their appendages scoured our minds, reaching in and finding new places to poke and prod.

These places, they fill up with seabrine and deep anguish. These places they deposit their stories next to Poe’s raven and Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s dream. Places impossible to reach with a normal hand. Places that one cannot possibly experience alone, ever, never. These places, they fill up with sorrow and world-ending-heartbreak, or perhaps hunger. These places, are where dreams are made, dreams that taunt, tantalize, torture. These are the Deep places, in our mind, and in the world, and in the bits just out of sight, we are broken across them like waves on rocks, algae clinging, seaweed choking us in these newer, deeper places. We drift, along these currents, and perhaps that is where creation comes from.

Perhaps, we are simply the Eve to a new Adam. Perhaps these creatures need us more than we know.

Or perhaps they just want a good show with their dinner.

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