By Phillip Donnelly
It was a dark place, darker than dark matter.
Character X turned his head this way and that but there was nothing to see.
A perfect blackness in all directions
An immaculate absence of form
Absolute nothingness
A void of adjectives
A total abyss
Zero
Zip
No
0
.
“Hello!” he hollered, vexed by the silence.
Two small elliptical points of light shone in front of him. Slowly the loose outline of a body grew around them, but it was almost transparent and clearly had no substance. It was a shining silver ghost of a form whose light came from within.
In a circle around Character X, seven large tablets of ancient rock grew in luminescence.
Beyond the henge of stones, a mist ensued, but through it X could make out paths winding their way through eternity; and like worms, they wriggled and squirmed and attached themselves to this or that rocky tablet.
Character X counted the paths and noted that there were 31 of them, each beginning and ending with a small signpost that said 'Function' and was followed by a number.
Above and below the inner circle of stones and the outer circle of worming roads, bathed in a cold fog, there was only the starless inky night.
Character X focused on the tablet nearest him. It was two-metres tall, one-metre wide and one-metre deep. It seemed to breathe, this curious rock, creaking as it expanded and contracted. X listened hard, and thought he heard a hollow rocky heartbeat coming from within the stone.
As the heartbeat grew stronger and the breathing more pronounced, the light from the stone became more powerful and he saw the word 'Hero' had been etched into the rock. He looked to the other six rocks and saw that they also had words written on them: 'Villain', 'Helper', 'Dispatcher', 'False Hero', 'Princess', 'Donor'.
Character X walked from one stone tablet to another, and as he got nearer each rock, its breathing grew deeper and its heartbeat faster. As he moved away, the rock dimmed and lost its life force.
When he had completed one rotation, the ghost-like form in the centre addressed him.
--I am Propp, chief architect and morpher of tales
His voice was deep and filled with a pulsating reverb, a voice that carried the stain of dark energy.
“I am… how odd! I can't seem to remember my name. Well, anything's possible in dreams, isn't it?” Character X mused, more to himself than to the figure.
--This is no dream, Sphere of Action
This is the Chamber of Rebirth and you are to be molded
“Rebirth? But I'm not dead yet. There must be some kind of mistake!”
--Silence role creature!
You are dead and you will be reborn
Choose your role so we may begin the Introductory Sequence
“I am not a role! I am an individual… it's just that I can't remember who I am at the moment. I'm having a deeply traumatic existential crisis dream here, and I need to speak to someone; not some spooky spectre creature. I have rights, you know!”
--Roles have no rights!
You are secondary nothings
You are props on which the Creator hangs his garments
“Well, we'll see about that! I want to speak to this Creator right now, if only to deny his existence.”
--We do not dictate to the Creator: he dictates to us.
He is the Creator and we are his creations
All following the dictates of 7-7-31
He commands and we perform
He is the story master
“I'm no-one's puppet! I'm a sentient human being. I'm… oh damn, I wish I could remember who I was; I mean, who I am.
--You are a million still-born dead fantasies
You are the psychic jelly of carrion past
You were once The Ministry Fox
You were once David Vincent
You were once Inaction Man
You will be molded
You will be reborn
You will be
Will be
Will
“But I…”
--Hark!
The Creator types
It is the time of Rebirth!
All of Proppland shook as the hammer blows were belted out on the keyboard. Lightning filled the skyline. The seven stones spun and dizzied Character X. He looked beyond them and saw the serpent paths coil and uncoil with a frenzied determination to reproduce.
The air filled with words and a thousand voices spoke at once. Character X fell to his knees and covered his ears to block out the crushing chaos of noise.
--Surrender to the void and be reborn!
Propp's eyes were now a burning red, his hands transformed into claw-like fountain pens.
“No! I am… I am me… I… I…”
--There is no 'I'!
There is only the Story.
Even the Creator cannot create
Even the Creator is only a cipher
In the end there is only seven, seven and thirty one
7-7-31: 7-7-31: 7-7-31
The rocks spinning slowed and they began to chant the number. The paths rose up and coiled themselves inward toward the centre of the circle; 31 of them staring at Character X and whispering '7-7-31' over and over.
“Stop!” Character X begged them, but they continued.
Propp hovered toward him and wrapped him in his cloak.
--There are seven story types
There are seven story characters
There are 31 roads we call functions
I release you from your former role: I condemn you to another
There is nothing new under the sun:
There is no escape from the
Trinity of the Story
Propp lifted his cloak and Character X rose to his feet and walked toward the rock called 'Hero'. He opened his arms and was swallowed by the rock, which took his form and dissolved it.
All light faded and the blackness returned.
*****
Character X opened his eyes and saw nothing. After a while six rocks were visible.
- - -
Phillip Donnelly grew up in Dublin, and has spent most of his life teaching English as a foreign language. He has just moved from in Paris to Vietnam. The writing bug infected Phillip in 2008 and he has had several short stories published in ezines. More info is available at: www.ministryfox.com
