OU Mythology and Folklore Fall 2018 - Daegan Layman

Author's Note: I wrote this story after watching all the Crash Course Mythology videos that had to do with creation and a few more videos about AI development. The act of creating a thinking being is something we see a lot in myths and folktales and I wanted to deliver my own take on it. Also I reused a line or two from one of my other stories, but it's fine 🤣.                                                                                                                                   "He" He woke to the protesting howls of the wind. Raising his hands to eye-level, he stared curiously at familiar integument, playfully rolling his fingers, before rising from bed to shut the window beside the bookshelf, leaving the sheets crumpled. As his hand touched the sill, he changed his mind and opened the window further while fumbling for a cigarette atop the dresser to his left. Restless nights watching embers disperse in the breeze were common for him. It was a

In Canto XVII of Inferno, Dante explicitly attacked then Pope Boniface VIII with this passage: “As the Sicilian bull, that rightfully his cries first echoed who had shaped its mould did so rebellow with the voice of him tormented. That the brazen monster seemed pierced through with pain; thus, while no way they found nor avenue immediate through the flame into its language turned the dismal words: But as soon as they had won their passage forth, up from the point, which vibrating obeyed their motion at the tongue, these sounds were heard: ‘O thou, to whom I now direct my voice, that lately didst exclaim Lombard phase, ‘Depart though; I solicit thee no more.” His anger resounded throughout excerpts of Inferno, dwelling on his hatred of Boniface VIII. Alighieri opposed the reign of Boniface heavily, grudgingly manifesting his fury at being expelled from Florence by him, thinking him unworthy of ruling because of his widespread corruption and apparent incompetency. Dante wrote letters an

Author's Note: I really enjoy creation stories and the somber tale of Izanagi and Izanami's love lost is a neat way to establish the beginnings of the Japanese mythos. I rewrote their story with them dying together in a less sad way. Source:  Romance of Old Japan, Part I: Mythology and Legend by E.W. and F. Champney. Izanagi and Izanami. Picture source . Silence Becomes Before the beginning, there hid in the darkest gaps of nothingness a spatial eminence gurgling with activity. Over time, its energy became thunderous and as it shook, the gallant Sun and its companion, the Moon, emerged. As the chaotic blur of the void was illuminated, another powerful pair came to be. Izanagi and Izanami stood an arm's length apart from one another. Basking in the presence of the Moon, the ultramarine lace adorning Izanami's garb gleamed hypnotically. The mighty Sun paled in comparison to the fire that arose in Izanagi's heart at the sight of her. Her passion burned just as b

Author's Note: Arthur Ryder's translation of Vetālapañcaviṃśati ,  or Twenty-Two Goblins. The story of the Twenty-Two Goblins, as translated by Arthur Ryder, details a king's quest to deliver a body to a monk. The body is possessed by a goblin, which asks the king riddles. If he can answer them correctly, the goblin jumps back to the sissoo tree and the king must go and retrieve him once more. For this story, I'll be adding another riddle to the collection. Sweat dripped heavily from the king's brows. Over one of his shoulders, he carried the body tirelessly back to the sissoo tree. The goblin sat on one of the branches, ephemerally phasing his fingers through the evergreen leaves of the tree. He sat up urgently at the sight of the king, quickly whirling in a mist towards the body. Through the mouth he entered, like a soul. He spoke in a multitude of tones, as if himself a congregation of spirits. "Good to see you again, my king. Where were we?" The king

Source: Romance of Old Japan, Part I: Mythology and Legend  by E.W. and F. Champney. Izanagi and Izanami : Before the beginning, there was nothing but chaos. Out of that chaos there became space, which like a flower bloomed, giving rise to the Sun and Moon. From this as well there spawned a plethora of gods. In a poem at the beginning of this reading, it tells that the lovemaking of The God Izanagi and his wife, the Goddess Izanami, gave rise to the other gods, men, mammals, the sea, the earth, and countless other things. In the actual reading it is this mercurial blooming of the space born from chaos that divines these things. Izanagi and Izanami lived on the isle of Onogoro and eventually became surrounded by the eight islands called Yamato, Tsukushi, Iyo, Tsushima, Ahaji, Shikoku, Oki, and Lado. They then gave birth to a son and daughter, Susa-no-wo-no-mikoto and the Amaterasu-omikami (who is really well represented by a white dog with a paint brush in a game called Okami that in

Author's Note: I am basing this story off of the Tale of Two Brothers  in Part B of the Ancient Egypt stories. Instead of following Anpu and Bata, this story begins with the creation of Bata's divine wife and gives context to her side of the story from then on forward (with some major alterations). Women are not named in the Tale of Two Brothers , and the only two significant women in the story are murdered by their husbands (along with the pretty woman that convinces Bata's wife to come live with Egypt's king). While the wives are portrayed as lustful and treacherous in the story, I am not approaching this story that way. Kamilah Khnum wiped the sweat from his brow and admired his work. From his potter's wheel there became a woman of intense beauty and sincerity. Her movement was ethereal and synchronous with the breeze of the winds. As she ebbed and flowed towards Bata who was wide-eyed and perched upon a strong acacia branch, Khnum uprooted a flax plant an

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I’m not going to start with sorry. You know as well as I do that under pressure, even the most robust systems are bound to cave in. Like a paper house lit aflame, I became prone to slowly turn and crumble to ash    As the smoke overwhelmed even the most basic of senses. I am not afraid to talk about it now  I no longer writhe in the burning that coerced me to relieve your autonomy. I cannot fathom the end of you. And even now, when you beat with irregularities, Falter at the base lines and tremble with anxiety, The only concern I have is that of you. Do not falter for me, my beauteous sustainer. I only wish for you solace within my inner-most chambers. Flourish in the flow of connected, harmonious valves. 

She is wildfire, untamed A quiet spark, a whisper that reverberates through every bone in my body Lacing my thoughts and burning through every vein under skin touched She is the Arctic, countering the heat of the love ringing through these syllables With harmonious beauty, a moment of snow crystals gently caressing the air, Holding tight until they meet the ground in a gravitational kiss And melt away in the palm of the Earth's steady, beating heart Fire burning out of control in the Ice She is the moon and the night, A starry night whose sparkling smile shines in the dark that holds the world in tentative hands The galaxies yearn for the touch of her lips to their lonely cheeks She is the Sun and the light, Teasing the horizon with playful kisses of blinding passion Rippling through the atmosphere, a ferocity with teeth of its own A loud roar, a thunder, that passes through my arteries and leaves me trembling

There are withered tree limbs that have whittled winding abysses beneath my eyes As if my own sprawling, calloused fingers act as executioner’s horses, Tied and tugging painfully throughout twitching nights In vivacious condemnation of occipital prisons, Begging for the lakes to spill out as grey sea that paints walls in pulsating diamonds Tranquility crystallized in moments that plead to be seen.  

Author's Note: I wrote this story last semester after reading the acclaimed philosopher Simone de Beauvoir's Second Sex . The characters are based on Simone and her partner, Existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre. There is a message in mind here in line with some of the ideas that permeate Second Sex , but more than anything I just wanted to write. This is not for Mythology and Folklore, so if you're taking the time to read it anyway, I appreciate it and welcome any feedback! “Making itself intelligible is suicide for philosophy” - Heidegger Shivering, Simone limped out of bed in the nascent morning to shut the window, marring her fingertips with cigarette ash that had collected on the sill. She hesitated for a moment, staring longingly at the crumpled sheets adorning the mattress before picking up a loosely bound notebook and slipping on shoes. “Sweetheart, what are you doing up this early?”             Jean had sat upright and began fumbling around for his g

The Iliad . Retold by Alfred J. Church.  Web Source . Author's Note: The story of The Iliad  details a conflict between Greeks and Trojans in which King Agamemnon and Achilles have a quarrel that arguably leads to the deaths of Patroclus and Hector, one of Achilles' good friends and a member of Trojan royalty, respectively. The Iliad precedes the events of Homer's Odyssey. My story will be set after the events of the story, with Hades resurrecting the fallen soldiers   to attack Achilles. A Trojan Calamity Achilles sat on uneven stone and let out a weary sigh. His mother Thetis sat beside him, frantically dissecting a wild spring flower. The violet petals danced downwards before being enveloped by the pools of blood and sweat that cluttered the ground, as a wrecked ship would sink slowly into Poseidon's seas. Thetis: "I fear for you, my dear Achilles. The Gods are displeased by your victories and speak of you with the tongues of envenomed snakes behind Zeu

Athletic Salesman. Web Source . Author's Note: I took the story of the blacksmith turning into the moon because the wise man got tired of changing him over and over again, changing the wise man to a salesman and the blacksmith into yet another individual incapable of being appreciative. The Wise Salesman The snobby man walked into the expansive dealership room and breathed a sigh of relief as hushed cold air met his sweat-soaked skin, courtesy of the A/C units straining in the summer heat. A well-dressed man with slick black hair walked up to greet him excitedly and exclaimed: "Good afternoon, my friend! My name is Wiseau and boy, do we have a treat for you! You're our 100,000th customer and we would like to offer you any of the cars on this lot for free in appreciation of your patronage!" The snobby man ignored Wiseau's extended hand and declared with a peculiarly nasal tone: "Hmmph. Show me your best, then." Unfazed, Wiseau esco