Paranimalia: Deer Witch

If it wasn't obvious by now: I love writing. This pleasure exceeds the pages of Asylum for Thoughts. One of my ongoing writing projects is entitled Paranimalia. As I see it now, it will contain short stories, all of which tell tales by forging motives of animals and mythological creatures into the fabric of the wording, but with a specific twist each. The animals will never be directly depicted as They are usually imagined. Rather, Their symbols are to be used as stepping stones for hopefully enjoyable plots.

Until recently, I thought of these series as a project only to be publicized once it is finished. I changed my mind. In order to one day finish the whole collection, I'm proceeding in smaller steps. A neat element to this approach is that I can also tell the story of each story (i.e. what inspired me, and how the writing evolved until its ripeness). These descriptions will follow after each of the texts.

Dear Reader, I present You the first narrative of Paranimalia I penned, the: Deer Witch.

* * *

“How interesting is your modern language of English, no wonder that the great powers made it be such a strong force of influence. It can conjure far more correctly than your average practitioner takes into regard. Behold.

I am what I see with my eyes. Eye am.

With meye all-seeing I, eye can unweave the obscurity of meye bonds and dance away meye mortality.

With meye hear eye can ear the rhythm of verve booming in the tuning fork for truth that are meye hands.

With each immeasurable particle being held in the spotlight of meye flowing desire, eye can sea the looping door to purity.

Let meye moan of metamorphosis unravel the fractal eternity of meye antlers. Meye I’s open with radiating ashen light, and dancing in a circle around me, eyem conducting meyeself to open the fissure to sanctity.”

My mother told me stories from the time I was a little girl, how I kept retelling her my dreams about the Deer Lady. I couldn’t remember this mysterious woman, not until three nights ago. As far as I can recall, I always felt a special connection towards deer. In zoos, my heart would have ached at the sight of their constrained majesty. In the uproar of consumeristic rubbish on sale, I couldn’t help but fancy the deer with hipster glasses gone mainstream. A few years ago I couldn’t have guessed that behind this attraction there could be anything beyond a simple quirk. I did inexplicably feel that there was something pivotal just a bit farther past my realization, however.

Now, with my vanishing ego, I can oversee how circumstantial events actually align into a plan so great, that it encompasses aeons of such essence-bending latitude, that our caged mentalities cannot even begin to fathom it. I have been teaching history of science to kids during my professional life and I have to admit that I’m not alone with my secret craving to be divine. Children are far more sincere about what lies behind their actions, and their unreserved objectives of supernatural ambition are, at the same time, charming and agonizing to look at. Unlike them, however, my understanding of omnipotence never got crushed by the limitations of human existence. I never compromised with the fact that I am powerless and bound, just because I cannot move the vase off the edge of the shelf with my mere sight. I always wanted to be a goddess, although I never openly articulated this. An aspiring intellect among crippled angels can never be met as bearable. Through suffering through this inequality in understanding, and seeing how easily the young can be influenced against their will, seeing them become repeaters of the same self-replicating mistakes of their ancestors - I learned to estrange myself from bonding. I crave to be singular, a whole for itself, an absolute. I want to restore what has, since bygone times, slowly faded into passivity by the human epigenome.

Don’t confuse me with an antisocial, unloving and uncaring person. The memory of me deserves more than that. I have known love and I have let it evolve. Now, with my thoughts swapping places with an eternal dream, I still know about compassion towards children who need to receive the proper continuation of collective knowledge. Even with the absurd outcome of slow social evolution, I can appreciate the responsibility towards the wonder that the young are. I know how to love kids, and I also know how to love men. Romantically, friendly, platonically, casually, ideally, painfully, playfully, pitifully, wildly, you choose. I also crossed from friendships into affairs with females - a progress which only deepened my passion. I was intensely involved with women secretly and openly. I adored them, cared for them, I was turned on by their labyrinthine scents, and heated by the provocative swings of their moody frame of mind. Regardless, I haven’t even considered throwing away my freedom for the sake of involving myself with any of them. Only once it had crossed my mind to bargain my ambitions for a spurious sense of security. Only once, before fate arranged itself in my favor. Only once, and I keep seeing this filmstrip repeat the most behind my dying eyelids; these cherished pictures of brief days in a different spirituality, pulses of bestial kindness filling up our veins, intoxicated mirth jiggling throughout the summer warmth, and then the cold and grey cutting of the tram accident. In reminiscence, that petite episode of my social life was the closest to what I feel now, and that is emancipation.

The determination that followed and which hardened itself around my motivation made me venture between the occult tomes of sorcery. I gave up my work, took my savings and knew my effort will be paid with another form of energy than that of the monetary type. Devoted growth cannot be bought with an indirect contribution, such as purchasing a service with wealth earned through labor. It must be sought after straightforwardly, as only then we can collect the essential lessons. What I began seeking for was out of reach even in our emerging age of informational overflow. What assets I hunted are deemed as things dark and sinister, and I involved myself in acts prosecuted and ridiculed throughout the ages of humankind. However, just as I unquestionably understood that I was meant to break out of my imprisoning body, I recognized how wrongly the world judges the lack of illusion. I fought against the dualistic division between white and black magics, and the ridiculous assumptions that come with this biased view founded on the depolarization of electrical potential in the human brain. I absorbed myself into grimoires of witchery and traveled the rainforest in search of indigenous shamanesses, just to realize that such ideologies are the perplexed and popularized remnants of perennial cults. I realized that the pristine shapers of authoritative principles of this world excluded all thought from their worship, using only the elemental force of consecrated motion. Language is an exceedingly influential act on its own, but is incapable of the precision mantric-kinetic movement can harness. I ceased speaking and got estranged from the unreasonable mess that society is. My vocalizations got reduced to groans as I uncovered ways in dancecraft of abiding authenticity and suffered the consequences of trial and error.

Gradually, my body grew ageless and my perception got amplified. I was able to witness and walk among sceneries of before inconceivable realms and intermingling virtues. I grew aware of the inestimable scope of being. What I have come to love most is Mother Nature, the dominant womb in which all there is to be known grows. I cannot care more for minuscule parts of Her; and for the fragmentary memories of past loves, I shed a tear for each, just as these old quixotic fallacies would demand.

By dancing to the precise rhythm, I could share the minds of Her magnificent creatures. Across all spheres of actualities, choosing among biological, ethereal, mechanical, gravitational, holographic, luminescent, crystalline, or acoustic of Her living things, the qualia I relished the most was that of the deer. Their majestic posture and strapping lope relentlessly filled me with the sweaty potency of freedom I could not feel in any other state. With their nocturnal vision, I could observe the properties of the night no apparatus can faithfully measure. The instinctual displays of dominance aligned flawlessly with my sentiment of superiority. For me, being a deer was finally discovering home. Before I knew, I incorporated their characteristic and dynamism into my own rituals. When I got the repetitions right is when She first reappeared, bringing back the certainty where my vocation originates from. She also brought the presque vu feeling that the realization I have been working towards will come not on that night, nor the next day when She comes for the second time, but during the third trance. And here I am now, already feeling my reasoning slipping away, sensing Her drawing nearer ad nearer.

Oh, and what a sight She is! I can see Her approaching, just as She did a few nights ago, taming me with Her restful words and serenity possible only in possession of a comprehension overly vast, only to tease me then with sentences so perfect, that my subconscious blossoms with the raging pride of recognition of what my actual crux is. There are clouds vaporizing from Her bronzed nostrils as She stops for me to admire Her as if Her noble, vigorous stance is reflecting the promises of my own destiny. Her eyes are eclipsing planets, looking down to me below Her crown of densely branching horns. Her whole transcendental flesh is scorching with metacelestial grandeur.

With open arms, She delivers Her pledge:

Tonight eye sing you the beginning of meye song
Each night brings a new stanza of reincarnation
The third night in order you will sing along
Revolution comes with reiteration

Anew eye come inevitable
Meye plan prevails impeccable
Elucidates your desires
Your self eye cast into pyres

Now eye lift you from lethal curse
It is now that you stop your rehearse
Into evocative performance you immerse
By the end of meye final verse
Reality you shall traverse

And I practice all the dances I have ever perfected, all chained in an unfolding pattern of similarity, leaving the bounds of space and time I multiply my selves to dance in a multidimensional analemma around and through myself, seeing myself close my eyes and dive into the waves of omniverses pulsating through my veins, inexorably leading me to be devoid of conditions, full and eternal.

Meye I’s see you trough the words you read, accepting your puny indifference towards the cooperative consent to live in fear of freedom. Savor this fear you feel, as it is a part of me and meye view. Fear freely, as you cannot fear away from me. Your input will lead to better alignments of possibilities blessed into existence by meye ever revolving maternity. Adore.

---

The Story of the Story

During my thorough research into the occult many moons ago, figures of powerful people with antlers, especially women who appear in dreamy realms, reached my attention. They didn't leave any particularly strong impressions, but I did imagine Them from time to time.

Years later, I learned from my closest friend that as a child, She talked about this creature visiting Her. She didn't remember it, Her mother told Her. Around that period we also got acquainted with deer as our mutual mythology. In a way, I also thought of my friend when shaping the character.

And then, another close friend sent me a link to a musical artist, Rone, whom I started exploring. It was only a matter of time until I came across the video for His (current) top-track, which acted as the last piece of the uplifting momentum:


The beats and images of this artwork have such a talent, that they managed to unite the refined figments of years worth of mental incubation into a seed of creativity. Somewhere at that time I was assisting a self-development training, during which we barely had times to sleep, not to mention writing. But, the concept burned in me.

Just as the titular character, the embryo of the tale demanded itself to be written, as Its time had come. So, during breaks and before sleep, when I managed to wake up earlier to take a shower and during meals, I wrote. I usually prefer the keyboard and modern text editing software for writing. It makes my life easier. However, then I wrote everything on paper. It was the only way, the way it was faithful to the content's manually ritualistic conjuration.

If I remember well, I finished the raw version in four days or so. Only after the training I had the time to digitize and edit it to my, and I suppose the Deer Witch's, liking. In return, She granted me the vision for Paranimalia.