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Authors: Phillip Mann
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And everything was changed. I awoke with the knowledge that the gold of the God had entered my veins and that I had eaten the sun like an apple. I saw as though for the first time or like a man recovering his sight after a long period of blindness. I saw colors I had never seen before. The dark blue of the sky had a rich texture of crushed velvet and light swarmed in the sky like silver snakes. The brown world outside the walls of my tunnel ran with colors of earth: with red and gray and brown and cream. The green shoots of the small plants whose roots I had eaten glowed like flame. There was a small creature, a bit like a beetle and a bit like an ant and I had crushed it under my heel in my ecstasy so that one of its legs trailed. I picked it up marveling at the iridescent colors which patterned it. I could see moisture at the broken leg joint and I willed it to heal, saying, “I affirm the unity of all life.” I closed my eyes and when I opened them again the small leg was working like a machine hammer and the insect scampered to the edge of my hand and launched itself into the air and fluttered to the ground.
That was when I noticed the difference. My hand was no longer my hand. It was larger and luminous. I crossed to the side of the dome and peered at the clear plastic, seeking an image of myself. I saw a homed man. I reached up and could feel my horns, short and stiff and cruel and throbbing with new life. My feet had healed and were larger and golden like my hands. Wonderingly, I picked up my pack and few belongings and began to run away from that cross-path where tunnels met. I ran with the fierce energy of the bull that had entered me. I ran with the care of the gentle man in the dun brown habit guiding me for I would not willingly bruise any living creature.
Something eke. I was now running toward and not away from. Punishment became pleasure. I was not running home except in a new philosophical sense. I was not running toward my parents’ farm but toward the nearest outpost of the Gentle Order of St. Francis Dionysos. I had recognized that small man who met me on the way for I had seen his statue mounted outside the small dwelling occupied by the Gentle Order. It was St. Francis Dionysos.
Wulf: And the bull?
WILBERFOSS: The bull was part of him. And the bull was myself. My true nature. The stamp of the God made manifest. Life, if you like. The force of life. Kind and cruel and neither of these and both.
WULF: And did you really have horns and golden skin?
WILBERFOSS: For a time I did. I had them for as long as I needed a sign. Then, with my decision to join the Gentle Order they gradually faded.
WULF: And when you came to The House of the Gentle Order?
WILBERFOSS: When I came to the House I knocked on the door and I was welcomed and I told my story and I was accepted. And so my commitment to the Gentle Order began. The next day I was given the green habit of the postulant and I felt great relief as I drew it over my head.
WULF: Didn’t it get tangled in your horns?
WILBERFOSS: No. The outward bull was gone and had taken residence inside. Inside inside.
The effects of the liberating drugs were fading. Lily and I watched as Wilberfoss began to close down. His eyes which had held some sparkle when he spoke now became dull pools of pain and finally blank. The voice began to slur and the sounds transmuted into grunts and stops. The arms relaxed like dead eels.
But before he faded entirely he rallied and spoke clearly and urgently for one last time.
WILBERFOSS: Such was my youth. Such was my happiness. How could such happiness lead to such sadness? How could it be that I, who came to love all life and to hate all killing, should come to kill so many? How did I come to kill the God?
Wilberfoss stared at me and Lily as though we were sharks and
And everything was changed. I awoke with the knowledge that the gold of the God had entered my veins and that I had eaten the sun like an apple. I saw as though for the first time or like a man recovering his sight after a long period of blindness. I saw colors I had never seen before. The dark blue of the sky had a rich texture of crushed velvet and light swarmed in the sky like silver snakes. The brown world outside the walls of my tunnel ran with colors of earth: with red and gray and brown and cream. The green shoots of the small plants whose roots I had eaten glowed like flame. There was a small creature, a bit like a beetle and a bit like an ant and I had crushed it under my heel in my ecstasy so that one of its legs trailed. I picked it up marveling at the iridescent colors which patterned it. I could see moisture at the broken leg joint and I willed it to heal, saying, “I affirm the unity of all life.” I closed my eyes and when I opened them again the small leg was working like a machine hammer and the insect scampered to the edge of my hand and launched itself into the air and fluttered to the ground.
That was when I noticed the difference. My hand was no longer my hand. It was larger and luminous. I crossed to the side of the dome and peered at the clear plastic, seeking an image of myself. I saw a homed man. I reached up and could feel my horns, short and stiff and cruel and throbbing with new life. My feet had healed and were larger and golden like my hands. Wonderingly, I picked up my pack and few belongings and began to run away from that cross-path where tunnels met. I ran with the fierce energy of the bull that had entered me. I ran with the care of the gentle man in the dun brown habit guiding me for I would not willingly bruise any living creature.
Something eke. I was now running toward and not away from. Punishment became pleasure. I was not running home except in a new philosophical sense. I was not running toward my parents’ farm but toward the nearest outpost of the Gentle Order of St. Francis Dionysos. I had recognized that small man who met me on the way for I had seen his statue mounted outside the small dwelling occupied by the Gentle Order. It was St. Francis Dionysos.
Wulf: And the bull?
WILBERFOSS: The bull was part of him. And the bull was myself. My true nature. The stamp of the God made manifest. Life, if you like. The force of life. Kind and cruel and neither of these and both.
WULF: And did you really have horns and golden skin?
WILBERFOSS: For a time I did. I had them for as long as I needed a sign. Then, with my decision to join the Gentle Order they gradually faded.
WULF: And when you came to The House of the Gentle Order?
WILBERFOSS: When I came to the House I knocked on the door and I was welcomed and I told my story and I was accepted. And so my commitment to the Gentle Order began. The next day I was given the green habit of the postulant and I felt great relief as I drew it over my head.
WULF: Didn’t it get tangled in your horns?
WILBERFOSS: No. The outward bull was gone and had taken residence inside. Inside inside.
The effects of the liberating drugs were fading. Lily and I watched as Wilberfoss began to close down. His eyes which had held some sparkle when he spoke now became dull pools of pain and finally blank. The voice began to slur and the sounds transmuted into grunts and stops. The arms relaxed like dead eels.
But before he faded entirely he rallied and spoke clearly and urgently for one last time.
WILBERFOSS: Such was my youth. Such was my happiness. How could such happiness lead to such sadness? How could it be that I, who came to love all life and to hate all killing, should come to kill so many? How did I come to kill the God?
Wilberfoss stared at me and Lily as though we were sharks and
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