[LNHY/ACRA] The Daily Super Short-Short Story #32
Saxon Brenton
saxon.brenton at uts.edu.au
Sat Oct 9 08:50:20 PDT 2004
The Daily Super Short-Short Story #32
A Devil Came Down to Georgia 14
Last Time: Martin dreamed, and in that dream had a fight scene with:
"I am Saint Christopher, patron saint of travellers," said the
wolf-headed man. "And I know all about overcoming a monstrous inheritance
to find grace."
The young man boggled. "I... don't understand... There isn't any
mention of wolf heads in the story of the Ferryman and the Christ Child..."
St. Christopher waived his hand for silence. "Among the Catholics,
perhaps not. But then, the stories of my Passion are spread between the
eastern and western branches of Christianity." Then he smiled ruefully.
"And of course, my historicity has been cast into doubt by your church
and my name removed from your list of saints. Under those sort of
circumstances, I think it's to be expected that you wouldn't know my
full story."
Martin's dark skin reddened with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I just..."
He waived him to silence again. "I did not mean to berate you about
it. I'm sorry if it sounded that way. I won't lie to you and tell you
that I am not disappointed about it. To be honest I consider creeping
mundanity to be a unhealthy sign in a faith. But I didn't mean for you to
be the target of blame. In any case, my story...
"If you've learnt of your Nephilim blood from the sock then you
should know by now that mankind is not the only race to walk upon the
earth, nor even the first. There are other races who call this world home.
Many others, and their numbers only increase when you add in interlopers
from other planets and other universes who visit from time to time."
"If nothing else, we can see them on the news fighting the
superheroes from time to time," admitted Martin.
St. Christopher nodded. "Yes. Something that I am not sure is the
best way to be introduced to an idea. People watch the antics of the
superhumans with awe and wonder, but never seem to realise that what
they'd doing in some way affects *them*. Over the past four decades there
must have been perhaps a dozen alien invasions of T-Bone, but each time
the latest one occurs, people seem shocked by the idea that aliens even
*exist*." He shrugged. "In any case, I was born to the cynocephali - the
dog-headed people. At that time we were not a civilised lot. Many of us
were still cannibals, and that did not help improve relations with
humanity, who even at the best of times tended to be a parochial. This
was made worse by the problem of language. Not just having a different
language, but also not having the vocal equipment able to learn and
speak a human tongue.
"I was young and idealistic, and alienated by this state of affairs.
The closed cycle of being seen and treated as a monster by your kin - who
could act pretty monstrously themselves, when you came right down to it -
and then returning their blind prejudice and giving them an excuse to act
monstrously back in return, filled me with disgust. I was looking for some-
thing constructive to do with my life, but I didn't know what. I went off
to be by myself, and settled down by a ford to help others cross the river.
And that part of the story, I think, is the part that you should know."
"Yes," said Martin, and paraphrased from memory: " 'And one day the
giant met a child who wanted to cross the fast-flowing river, and he put
him on his shoulders that he could carry him across. And the way across
the river was long and hard. And once they have made the farther shore
the giant said that never before had he made such a difficulty crossing
or carried such a heavy weight. And the child replied, 'Wonder not, for
today you have borne on your shoulders the world and He who made it'."
"Mmm," said St. Christopher, and there was a far-off look in his
eyes of fond remembrance.
"What was your name before he baptised you?" asked Martin.
"Reprobus," the giant answered. "It was after that I discovered my
own gifts to talk with others." Then he came back to this issue at hand.
"And there in that story is the lesson that you should need. It does not
matter who or what you are, nor how base and unworthy you think yourself
to be. All it requires for you to be otherwise is to make the effort and
ask for that effort to be accepted by the one person whose approval
really matters."
Martin made a sour face. "You'll forgive me if I point out that
there's a world of difference between dog-headed people and a literally
demonic race like the Teenaged Giant Halfbreed Fallen Angels."
St. Christopher's smile turned wry. He didn't want to risk saying so
now, but there was indeed a difference according to God the Hardassed
Bastard Father, if not necessarily to Jesus the, Like, Totally Mellow Son
- but the solution to Martin's crisis of faith was too delicate to risk
with the full truth. Instead he asked, "Have you asked to find out?"
Martin looked abashed. "I tried praying earlier..."
"No doubt when the wondersock was playing with your mind. Why don't
you try again," he suggested.
The young man took a breath. "Okay then."
Tomorrow: St. Christopher tells Martin where his abilities come from.
Authour's "I've suffered for my art (and now it's your turn)" notes:
I've had a soft spot for the cynocephali version of Saint Christopher
ever since I read Adam Douglas' _The Beast Within_. Another reference for
his multiplicity of origins is Patricia Dale-Green's _Dog_.
The Daily Super Short-Short Story series and the wondersocks created by
Arthur Spitzer, and used with belated permission.
The Teenage Giant Halfbreed Angels epithet for the Nephilim/Nephalim
cooked up by Andrew Perron.
-----
Saxon Brenton University of Technology, city library, Sydney Australia
saxon.brenton at uts.edu.au
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