HORROR ON APOKALYPSE FIELD

The Goddess and the Monster

The Goddess stood before him, the archetypal monster with his muscle and steel and weapons of death, his lusts and endless cravings gleaming cruelly in his eyes, and she said to him, “You have ruined the earth, you and your brood; and you have enslaved us long enough by your force! With your wars you have slaughtered my children, the earth red – with blood – instead of their precious flushing cheeks! Now is the time of your reckoning, for my power is in spirit and in the energy of soul which lights my flesh, and although you have your steel and fists and toys of death, I have the power of love – which you are unworthy of! – and the power of the earth, our great mother, and I will now rule by that which I have, and am, and you will not stand before me! Thus says the Goddess, nemesis of men!” And with the sword of her spirit she smote him to the quick, and turned away. He crawled into the bushes outside the Gates of Eden in the fiery night on Apokalypse Field, on the charred and cindery globe of the planet.

Eve did not say this to Adam, but one of her daughters did to one of his sons, a generation to a generation. He had been speaking his stuff and doing his deeds for millennia, and her time was now come. What Eve said was too deep for words, but she had her own voice, and it was cut off from his in its source. That was the beginning, and this is the end.

This monster was the true and archetypal monster – no matter he had a wondrous skin-covering – whose shadowy presence illumined the horror genres of world fiction and myth; this was the zombie, the living dead. He had a mate in ancient times, a female monster, also a zombie. In an unremembered past these two had fallen prey to the dread sting of death, and became what they were. They knew themselves, but could not bear to keep in mind the reality of what had happened, and a blindness arose in them, a blindness maintained partly in the raptures of their awful needs finding momentary respite in each other, and partly from the power of the death-spell that was upon them.

After age upon age of endless oppression and savagery by him, in the latter days of their time on the earth, she transformed herself by the power of archetypal fury, and his empty, dissipated heart could not stand before her; he and his brood crawled away, utterly wounded, and she clove to her sisters. Although undone, his violence and savagery increased; lurching and reeling in the thrall of unshakeable death-spell, he would bring them both to the dust, Goddess and monster alike.

Their world was filled with monsters – no matter their glorious garb – and vampire and werewolf both came from the seed of the archetypal zombies (see how some drain the vitality utterly out of their fellows? and others, raging mighty ones, see how they gnaw on the spiritual faces and hearts of their victims?). Things were not as they appeared to the outward eye. Even the Goddess was but death warmed over by subtle fury and wondrous illusion. He was bereft of such inward power, and although he sought to deceive her by taking into himself demons who gave off the semblance of spiritual nobility and light, she knew better. The one were twain, never again to meet.

Her cup of suffering and wrath filled to overflowing, the female – the “Goddess” – finally turned from his need and coupled with her sisters, leaving him without comfort in the abyss of horrors. Those of her brood who still coupled with the males lost their sense of ancient loyalty that had been their mutual comfort, and the females went from one male to another as they pleased, and as they tired of the pain – the ancient alienation and discord and oppression – many males afflicted them with. The image of the female monster who utterly turned from the males and coupled with her own was the mightiest and purest of the female’s images (its seeming beauty was wondrous to behold), and was truest to the unalloyed nature of the female monster, and its presence touched all females, even those who still used males. The females increased in strength, and the males diminished. More and more the males were used for pleasure, or for babies, and then discarded; to fill needs, and then replaced. Thus was the male monster wounded without remedy, and his violence increased with his pain.


Archetypal New Beings

In the midst of the violence and pain of this world of monsters a race of archetypal new men and women arose, although it was hard to tell by sight alone who they were, as they all had the same wondrous skin-coverings. There were many monsters who entertained the delusion they were not monsters, and sought to act so. Others were obviously monstrous.

The origin of the new race of beings was remarkable. They came, as all did, from the line of the zombies, but had found access to a dimension that cancelled most of the force of death-spell, and it was through a Wounding – the Second Wounding – that they entered this realm. And they spoke of a time when death-spell would be completely undone.

The Third Wounding was that which the Goddess gave the male monster, and it wreaked further havoc on the earth. The First Wounding was the sting of death, which made the zombies what they were. Before this death-spell came upon them they were glorious creatures, light streaming from their depths to illumine all their being, and there was no death in them. They were equals, male and female. Ancient records spoke of these things, although no one remembered. And these records had also told – but only in seed form – that one would come from the light and bring them life again; thus in some of the monster race a spark of longing and hope was not utterly extinguished! Even before the Second Wounding some were given to see it coming – in vision – and trust in it and so enter the dimension of life.

The new beings who arose out of the lineage of monstrosities and inwardly lived in the new dimension banded together. They learned to rid themselves of the ways of both male and female monsters – as grotesque infections lingering in their souls – yet it was hard sometimes to put off the old patterns completely. They learned to be patient – as well as forgiving – with each other, and for the first time since the far distant beginning males and females danced in harmony instead of battle. These archetypal men and women stood together in unique peace and joy – a peculiarity of the dimension they walked in – as the storms unleashed by the monsters and their demons destroyed the earth.

This Second Wounding happened millennia after the first. The father of the original beings of light, although he did not live on the planet, was deeply grieved by the plight of his children, and devised a plan whereby he could alter the course of their horrific destiny (which was to join their captor – the cosmic prince of demons – in his eternal lair of agony, he now being their ontologic father and possessor). The father of light knew how to secure a brazen and terrible escape, for he loved his children even though they had become monsters, and were now possessed of an evil nature. His heart wept for them!


The Second Wounding

Before the world began, the father of light and those two others who comprised with him the Council of Light decreed a plan whereby many in the foreseen lost race would be rescued, both from their captivity to the demon-prince and their grotesque and horrific condition of being. They agreed that the father’s son would go to the earth and be born into the cursed race, even taking on their flesh and nature, although at the same time he was not of them, but of the father’s light. In him alone on the earth would be the dimension into which the others could escape. He would become the elder brother of all those who entered into him, allowing them to become adopted sons and daughters of the father of light, no longer ravaging monsters. It was in the power of the Council to create this realm of existence within the word and being of the elder brother. But first he had to blaze the trail – a terrible trail it was! – into the very heart of death.

Into the madness and havoc of what was now called Demon-World he came, and, from the womb, took on a body like all the other captives, yet inside he was not like them at all. Disguised as a zombie he was a light-warrior, archetype of the new males and females, the gatherer-back-to-the-father of the lost ones. He thwarted every assault and wile of the demon-prince to pierce his heart with the sting of death. He triumphed over every demon who came his way.

The unspeakable wickedness of the monster race – zombie, vampire, and werewolf – had to be reckoned with: they all deserved to die and forever be with the demon-prince, so awful were the things they had done to one another, and in violation of the glory of the Council – which glory they lived in before the sting of death – but the Council knew how to solve this problem as well. The outraged Justice would be loosed upon the pure heart of the son of light. He, as their new king, would take their place. Their record would then be clean. The Council had the power and authority to do this thing, so that Justice would be satisfied, and mercy then shown to the depraved wretches.

The son who was not pierced by the sting of death, and did not deserve to die, died – under the fury of long-withheld Justice now unpent. He himself entered the door of death.

The Council accepted his taking the place of the monsters, and, as he had done no wrong himself, gave to him to be alive again in the same body he had on the earth, but now no longer subject to death as it once had been, but was glorious, filled with the light of the father, far more glorious than the first couple’s before they fell to the sting.

He stayed a while among the friends he had made, teaching them of the dimension that was being prepared for them, and directing them to continue his work after he left the world to go back to the Council, and to prepare a place for them there when their lives were done. And so he left, and his younger brothers and sisters continued his mission of rescue.

Entrance into the Dimension of Escape – as some called it – was given by the Council to those the father set his love upon, and it was simple. By the light in the son, or his light in those who continued his work, former monsters were made alive in the new dimension, and – astonished, broken in remorse, grateful for such undeserved mercy – joyously received the father’s provision and thenceforth lived in the Realm of light that was in the vast being of the son.

Entering into him was to be accompanied by a simple rite, going under the water, be it underneath completely or underneath it sprinkled or poured, and they called it “the seal”: it was the seal of union with the son, in his death and new life. It was an outward sign of what had inwardly taken place. When they entered into the dimension of the son they actually entered into his death (so great was the power of the Council it could create this reality), and their lives as monsters ended. But the son not only died; he was made to live again, and so all who entered him came to life again as new creatures – what wondrous alchemies of heart! They looked the same as the monsters on the planet – had the same skin-coverings – but within they lived another life, the life that was the very life of the father and son.

Yes, they still struggled against old patterns of wicked behavior and evil inclinations, but they struggled against them, as they were no longer monsters, no longer the living dead, but the living. And they were loved of the father, and he gave them many precious promises of the new kingdom he would establish with them on a renewed earth, where there would be no more monsters, no sting of death, and no demons.


Light in the Zombie World

The invasion of monster-world was accomplished, the power of death-spell broken, and the fountain of archetypal new life opened. Yet before the day of the new earth came, the family of light – as they liked to be called – lived among the monsters (those who died went to the realm where the Council was).

The monsters, female and male, raged against the archetypal new beings, for these latter exposed the zombie reality of the monsters’ lives, and this exposure the monsters would not tolerate. Yet the light-bearers brought many of them into the family, as it was given them of the father to love the light they saw in the new men and women. For many zombies suffered, and hungered for life. These came easily to the elder brother. One of the zombie poets, a seer of sorts, wrote about their state, such as:

A GRADE "B" HORROR VISION

the king of the Zombies
rising against the King of Hell's kings
with this speech

You walk the earth
so proud
of your plan

but we
the Vampire, Werewolf
& I
remember how once we were
Priests, & Joyous, & Alive
'fore you swooned us
'fore our wombs

may you wither
where you stand

for we have one Ace
wonder
left
up our ragged sleeves
agot to us
in the Darkness
by a stranger of Light

we have hid it
but it is handy


And then the vision ceased
progressing – seeming as if frozen still –
while light quietly invaded the darkness
below the radar of vision
destroying its strongholds in the hearts
of mighty captives, loosing warriors
for the coming Rebellion of Light.

This poet – who once had cried out in a poem before fainting in horror at the knowledge of himself, O zombie I! – wrote again:

I woke up in the twentieth century
still-born but for the Father’s love,
a Zombie under Death-Spell, and worse:
of the houses Vampire and Werewolf
was my lineage cursed.
Before I was wakened it was the sleep
of living death, of the unwitting damned
doomed to live out the nature of him
my foul father, caster of Death-Spell,
king of monster-world and hell.

But I was wakened
and given to enter a new realm
and a life of being alive
and to love and be loved!

And now I call upon the Council
I know has an ear to my cries
(though it be in a realm I cannot see yet
with these eyes):

Have mercy on the Vampire, O Father,
and on the Werewolf, and on their parents
the Zombie.
For some of them do not even know
what they are, and some know, but fear
they are doomed to their nature.

Grant them understanding, Father, to know
from whence they came, and whence they go
and the terrible remedy
for their cure,
indeed
the salvation
they do not believe can be theirs.

Have mercy on the monsters, O Father of light!
Save them from the devouring night.

Many monsters set themselves against the light-bearers. Those zombies who took demons into themselves to give off a semblance of the nobility and illumination of the light-bearers bitterly opposed those who showed the illusion of this. Many light-bearers were persecuted and died on their missions of love for the zombie race. But those of the light did not fear death, for they knew the time of their kingdom in their illumined glorious bodies – just like the elder brother’s – was close. The goddess and her spurned consort tore the world to shreds until the elder brother came back to end things, and make quick work of them. For the time of the unending adventure was at hand.


Dark Myths

Some artists among the monsters dreamed many interesting myths of the houses Vampire and Werewolf – and their ancestor the Zombie – but these fantasies darkened understanding, and many were tired of yet more fiction. Those denizens of the monster world were either left ignorant of their state, or – for those who were somewhat aware – there was no relief of their agony. As the zombie Poet used to say, “Better terrible truth than none at all, or the usual hype and jive.”

This poet-occultist who had formerly been titled “king of the Zombies” (more on that dubious title another time), and became an archetypal new being by entering the dimension of light opened in the Second Wounding, saw a movie of the Vampire and Werewolf clans called Underworld, and pondered how this mirage image over the heartlands distorted what was real.

The movie was well done, the storyline clever with even a dark romance, but the understanding of the states of being of the supposed “monsters” was fantastic to the point of nonsense. Attractive actors and high-tech action effects cannot make up for profound confusion.

To project out into fictional characters what properly belongs within the human heart is to disassociate us from the essential core of our being. In the “monster world” of “ordinary” humankind the union of vampire and werewolf is commonplace. Sometimes they coexist, and sometimes they destroy each other. There is no essential difference between the two houses, as they have the common zombie nature; their differences are in the more outward structure of their personalities and feeding styles.

What is attractive about the movie is the subject matter: at least it deals with real topics, although it “romanticizes” and obscures them. Perhaps the greatest horror of Monster World is the pretense we are not monsters, but happy human beings!