The Macabre Dreams of the Tiamat's Son, and His Death

The Macabre Dreams the Tiamat’s Son

((From the Journals of the Demonic, called: “The Aeon -Shadows”) (Part VI))



Unfortunately, I must narrate this following story, or tale of the First Born, for it is of a dream he had while in the Chamber within the crust of the earth, when he fell feet first, into it after following the demon, and I would prefer he tell it. I say, I must narrate it, for he did not put it into his diary, and you, I’m sure would be interested in it, and he no longer can or will tell it, and so I am left to the challenge, so bear with me please.

To be upfront right from the beginning, I’m not sure if anyone knew how the dreams came about, they just did, and so real they seemed to the First Born. In the dream he was restless, back home in the forest with his mother, back when Yort, the great city of Asia Miner was in its infancy, when his mother had temples within those thick walls, when life in general was becoming intolerable for him. Within his head each day seemed like a war just to make it through, hidden thoughts came out, they were dark thoughts, and sounds of such. He could even hear the ants talk, and the cricket’s feet move, sounds no one else could hear, perhaps it was this shack, he told himself, for he did not know he was in a Macabre dream at the time, that was in 6000 BC.
He could even hear the babbling and madness of two grasshoppers in a state of fury. Later on in life he would contemplate if this really was a dream, or if it was real. But for me and you, to the best of my knowledge it was a dream, but you would never convince the First Born of this. In any case, ghoulish hints came to mind for him, thus, feeling mental tension, that these creatures, and sounds were magic, hoary magic from those who wished to do his mother harm, and perhaps him, if indeed he became a liability, or got in the way. She was the beast of the world you know, most all feared her. When he had woken up from the dream, he swore it could not be of his imagination. Dubious old forbidden secrets he knew, or he said he knew, from the sounds he heard.
He told his mother this, but she laughed, saying in jest, “Are you now my consulting savior?” Thus, she took no precautions as he beggared her to do, for the insects were talking about a battle to be, between Murdock and her, both mighty warriors, and supposedly, they heard Murdock talk behind her back to whomever, a ghoul I suppose.
It was not unusual for the First Born to believe in such things, he believed in stranger things in his younger days, it was queer thought, that he expressed them to his mother. And of course her advice was to hush up. The First Born could not have told her what he expected to happen, he did not know, and if he would have said, she was to be mangled in a great battle, he may had come out headless after the speech.
The First Born studied this dream for a long while, finding an accessible spot in the forest where he could think clear headed. When his mother spotted him in the forest thinking, she asked, “Do you have a touch of brain favor, dreams begin early in the night, and curious devils come and affect you, bleak they are in winter, but they still come slanting their evil, think no more of them, they are simply annoying, endurable, but annoying?”
But the First Born felt beyond his sanity laid the answer. Perhaps he was thinking too much, he was hear way too much; and possible he found a window where he could descend within his dreams—escape the realities of life, using his sensitivity, and his incredible senses hearing all such details. Ye it caused him panic, gravitational panic.


In Times to Come
From the: ‘Tablet of Destinies’

Marduk, son of Ea in times yet to come, took arrows, spears and clubs and killed the Tiamat, slicing her in half, his ambitions were to become king of the gods. Marduk was the chosen champion of the gods. It was the Tiamat that gave birth to the first generation of gods (thalassa).



Death of the Tiamat’s First Born
((From the Journals of the Demonic, called: “The Aeon -Shadows”) (Part V)


There was much controversy on how the First Born died, I shall challenge all these tales, and hesitantly tell you the nervous truth, if not shocking. Tiamat was the "ultimate" personification of a salt water beast, a god, a freak of nature, who roared and smote in the chaos of original creation. She was older than time itself, and had many children. She had many offspring, in particular those that came from the sea, giant offspring, giant sea serpents, and storm demons, fish-men, scorpion-men and many others. Perhaps that is why the demon of the desert hated the First Born; his mother could have been the Tiamat, envy, jealousy, and revenge is in most living things. In any case, the First Born was named just that because he was born above the waters, on the surface. Simple as that; she had a lover, Kingu, but I shall not get into that, it is neither here or there, it just was. But let me get back to the premise.
Chance has shown herself capable of many odd things, but it wasn’t chance that killed the First Born, more will one find the truth in his diary, clearly he had a flare for dramatics, and a swollen imagination that could arouse the spirits of the dead.
After visiting Egypt, he had come back to the city Yort, and got deeply involved with his mother’s occult life, he may have even become a deity for worship in her temple, contrary to his diary, that makes him guilt free of all destined reflections.
But I have examined his live thoroughly, taken all my evidence, and put them into theories, and came out with what I feel the obsolete, undisputed correct one, undoubtedly, a genuineness piece of work, on my part. There was fear on his face when he died, fanatical. I saw it, or I should say, his remains, which are mummified.

Lahum, first born, son to Apsu, and the Tiamat, they mated. For the most part, he looked like a snake, and could, and did appear to humans as a bearded man; for he was called hairy in his time. There was a dispute between the two brothers, of different fathers, and the First Born would not return to his Egypt, and Lahum, now as recognized in the city as Marduk’s favorite, as was he to the Tiamat. Anshar, s sibling to Lahum, saw this dispute, he was a sky god of sorts (this was the second generation of gods, the Tiamat being of the first). During the region of Sargon II (in what is now known as ancient Mesopotamia), was cast into stone, framed into Babylonia stone, in the year 689-627 BC.

How he eventually escaped, is another story, but he did, for he wrote the diary did he not, but it was not until late in his life did he write the diaries called “The Aeon -Shadows”


Interlude
And afterwards by the Narrator


I was only going to make part I the end of the story at that, and then came part II, and somehow I got to part III, where we are at now, and this Interlude. Then I got thinking: The First Born has learned many things in life up to this point, unwillingly perhaps, and even unconsciously, but learn he did, all the same. Such as, he did take the first step that ultimately led to the second, and into what he had planned in the first place, to go beyond the forest, to seek out new adventures, life up in his tree tower was becoming boring, if you recall. You see he had a plan, but he wanted to escape it, but life does not always allow this to happen, thus, he was forced to go forward in it. And life should have a plan, and let’s hope it is in agreement with you. Second, he was braver than he thought. He fought the Mantocore, not because he wanted to, but to survive he had to. Fear grips us, but it does not have to paralyze us. Fear can be good; I would think if one had no fear, he was crazy, dangerous, or foolish. Well this is not where it all stops, it perhaps is somewhere in the beginning of the First Born’s beginning to understand life in it’s fullest. Third he thought, because he was of the same race of the demonic creature that came to greet him, that the creature would be un-hostile to him, you know—like: kind to kind; that how could things get worse, but by following the demon, they did get worse, it of course made him think, but it was after the fact. You see, in life, if ,you let folks take control of it, they do just that, and it is normally not for the betterment of you. Oh well, he is learning is he not, the hard way, the way I suppose I learned. And should we go on to a next episode, I dare say, what he could learn. Forth, he ended up in a chamber underground, like a tomb of sorts. And again he meets fate, which is the big spider. When I use the word fate, I do not mean it lightly, he was bound to, after following the demon, what did he expect, a place with slaves from a demon, perhaps so, sometimes we just get on the wrong track, and think good can come out of bad. Oh well, he learned again, things do not work that way. And so he fought the spider, but he did not give up hope, and he found a way out. Often times this happens, if only we look, and grab opportunities. If we let them pass us by, we simply do not deserve them in the first place, or so I feel. Anyhow we are at a new juncture, and I am contemplating if I should plan a new episode, it was not in my plans in the first place, but you see, plans like life, change. Let me also add, in part IV, perhaps in this ongoing story, the First Born knew more than what I thought; for what I learned was that premonitions are given for reasons, and dreams can be more than dreams. And if the imagination can dream it up, perhaps there is more truth to it, than the eye can see. So yes, I have learned from the First Born also.

Parts IV and V were written on 1-3-2008, as Part II and III on the 2nd of January, and part I on the first. The last two parts, are mostly told by the narrator, and for good reason, the main character demands it to be so. But the First Born has learned dreaming is more than dreams, and death lingers on each page, of the unwritten book of life. In part four, envy and jealousy are involved here, with sibling rivalry. It is not uncommon, and often we the older generations find our kids that went off to change the world, came back, changed, and not the world. And often times they find things do not remain the same upon their return. And so a word to the wise, what you shun now, maybe shunned back at you later, so the First Born had to face. Restlessness in no excuse to walk away from what is called family, if you do, one must count the price, for there is always a price to pay; it might be wiser to leave the rock as it is or was, why move it? There are usually more worms gathered there since last you saw it.

Note: The First Born looked very much, if not identical to the mother Tiamat, one can see it by the drawing I did on the internet, under the Tiamat series. Or check my site to see if my wife put the drawing on it for me.

(1-3-2008)

Reminiscences of the Tiamat's Son: Parts II & III "Atop the Tempest"

Reminiscences
Of the Tiamat’s First Born
((From a Journal of the Demonic) (Part II))

Atop the Tempest



Amduscias

There was a windstorm in the air on the night I escaped the Great Forest of Yort, into the deserted land of what now is called Syria, a tempest of a storm gas coming, and I was heading into its lurking middle. I was alone; perhaps I was foolish, thinking the love of adventure mixed with the unknown, and my grotesque looks, would save me from strange horrors to be, yet this was not a heroic poem in literature, this was muscular domination in a ghastly exploration I was attempting, and fitness was predominate in survival, it was what was needed in facing this new world. And this was my first test.
I was no longer in an eldritch panic, the nightmare of the Mantocore and the wild dogs was over; death was no longer creeping up and own my spine, setting in place, in patches—chills. My mother was surely not going to search for me; she had her worshipers in Yort, the great city of Asia Miner that is what was important to her. The truths of the matter was, was that I had to bear the truth, bear it alone, or face the world to be in fear and become mad in the process.
“Now that I am telling my story, writing it down in this journal, lest the threatening of gloom make me crazy, thus, it seems to quiet my nerves somewhat, I shall bear this tempest as I have in all previous manners, with spectral and desolated primeval, sinister—and perhaps a little twisted fear, hidden fear, for fear can swell the skull to gigantic proportions, and the tempest to be, in front of me is no more than a shadow on the chimney.”

This is how I described it, but in much more detail and with many horrors, but I somehow lost the official account, so I shall tell it from memory again. After a moment I detached from my fear, the atmosphere was in a stir and oddly facing me like a tempest with a heap of gushing wind, and blinding sand, a few minutes more and the dispersal of the insides of these winds, terrible winds, would suffocate me, it, or they, would have to face. At this moment, rocks flew by me, hit me, and bruised me.
So on this spring afternoon, a distant rumble came, the silent night I had come out of was trampled, it reached me, the sand blasts were like beams of electric torches, shocking my body, feeble I became, and the wind shifted me about like a pile of camel dung; yet I did not hesitate, I ran for a resolution, I ran blindly into the wind, into its center core, I heard the death demon, call me from it, the one my mother said is vaporous and has pestilence, but what did I care, I was of his kind, but with flesh. Hence, I was next to him now (he gave his name as: Amduscias), next to him in the center of the storm I stood; subtly, he sat on a seat, as the tempest circled all around us.
As the stormed muffled thunder, and got louder, I could not make out any details of what he was trying to tell me. Next he stood up, we now stood side by side, and out of the sky he pulled a rope ladder. I thought, this might be our potential escape, but where to? I did not think, judging him at this moment was to my advantage, he somehow was protecting me or so it seemed at the time, as the approaching winds were folding into the core, in a minute I would be part of this storm, or somehow take this window of opportunity, he was offering me, if indeed he was offering anything. It is probing how intently I watched his every move, and him holding that rope ladder.
Never before had the face of evil, even though I am evil, but a face more evil than myself, so poignantly had browbeaten me, to the point I was happy to see it. But I had learned you do not trust demons, they lie, and it is part of their nature to do so. And they do not have mercy per se; again it is part of their natural world, and history.
The windstorm was a world of its own, and I had not ever experienced or even had my imagination created such a phantasmal chaos in my mind. And now I faced it, it was coming, and somehow I expected the demon to assist me.
And now a devastating shockwave came, that opened the earth, like the womb of a woman having birth pains. I became hopelessly insane for the moment, and my head felt as if it was flying into oblivion. And I found myself falling, as the storm went over me, yes, I was falling to the darkest crypts of the earth, for it had splintered open, and the demon was flying above me like a bat, laughing with the rope in his hands. I got the feeling he was simply a joker of sorts; no longer could I take him serious.
The frightful outcome was to me to be isolation in the bowls of the earth, with a rope ladder the demon would throw my way, simply as a spoof to his amusement; and so as I fell, here he was, the death-demon, lurking behind me. His eyes had the same odd quality the Mantocore had, eyes that stared at me and gave out cloudy and gray reflections, death reflections. And as I neared the bottom, I knew I’d vanish from earth, a flood of cataclysm came into my cerebellum, the demon above me was laughing, terrible words coming out of his crazed mouth, and I wondered when I’d fall completely, land, but I didn’t land, I just kept falling, and the demon vanished back to the surface, as the earth started to close—voiceless I became, the rope-ladder, perhaps was a symbol of no escape.




The Spider Gorilla
Part III




Unconscious I was, but for how long I didn’t know. Fungous and vegetation was all about me. Stone walls and tentacles like giant spiders were walking about me in the dark. Heaven be thanked I was still alive, or was I? It was a question that was not clear in my mind.
I remember the nameless sounds that secretly lurked about me, haunted me to this day. Why cannot the doors of the earth open up again for me, to free me, I asked myself? With no reply of course; what I saw in the dark of this unspeakable chamber, within the earth, were a delirious gorilla like spiders, with matted fur coats, mammalian degenerated, frightful, and cannibalistic. They were snarling at me, excited to have found me I suppose.
I had not died, but was consumed by the earth. I was like a rat caught in a well, or a closed walled chamber, horrible it was, I had incendiary outrage, and as one of the giant spiders attacked me with its saber like teeth, I ripped at it with my iron hands, pounded on its head like a slug hammer, it immediately became distracted, maimed and worthless.
This was the ugliest character in appearance I had found yet on or within the earth, it went squealing like a rat back into a hole in the upper part of the earth, servant to whom I do not know, but it was whispering to something or someone, perhaps its mate.

Night never comes, it always is, in this graveyard type chamber, such as I was in, and the stenches were horrible. Full dark each day, but my eyes adjusted. As I have said, I remained in a state of fear, it seamed vermin and old ghosts, demons were not on my side, nor were I particularly fond of them, but under these circumstances, which I hopped was not to be my final tragedy, I found to the upper part of the wall, a stoned removed, the spider I think moved it when it stepped into its abode, perhaps during the earthquake it loosened up. At first I dismissed this as insignificant, but as I looked deeper into it, I dug upward, and the earth fell on top of me, and I saw an opening that gave light, terrific vision, I abruptly awoke to life again. A hissing came into my throat, I would be free.

1-2-2008

From the Journal of the Demonic (The Son of the Tiamat)

Reminiscences
Of the Tiamat’s First Born
(From a Journal of the demonic)


The Tiamat was no dream of woe?
But rather a wicked-warrior so real and cruel:
She had several shades of green,
And was a demonic beast large and wormy
with no match; and long nightmare to be.
—Dlsiluk

Discontented is he to whom the reminiscences of youth bring only dread and gloom. Pitiful is he who looks back upon separate days in vast and gloomy chambers, halls and forest huts with brown cobwebs hanging, maddening rows of dead bodies and limbs, animal remains, or upon fearful sights in twilight orchards of which my mother, huge and ugly, gigantic, and burdened with me, she’d silently wave twisted branches far aloft. Such a lot, her and her demonic friends were, demigods gone wild—to me, they dazed the population near the city of Yort, in the land known now as Asia Miner, I was disappointed in my early youth; back then, back in 6008 BC, when her and her friends made the land barren, the broken. And yet I am somehow, oddly I say, somehow, satisfied, content, and cling desperately to those old reminiscences, which my mind for moments—now and then, threatens to reach out and beyond the normal, if indeed I do not hold them back, and absorb them little by little.
Where exactly I was born, I know not where, nor care, save that the forest is where I woke up to see light, and breath air, finitely old I already felt, and considerably horrible; full of dark thoughts running ramped throughout the passages of my mind, and having high thick walls, my eyes could find only shadows, and my mind seemed always hideously damp, cursed from birth, as my surroundings were piled high with corpses, and I never got to know of whom the dead were. My youth never saw much light. But my mother would say, “You are the first born, and feel lucky you were born here, on earth, not under it where there is no light, where I was born.”
High up in the tree tops, I could see many things, it was likened to a great tower, or at least for me it was, and the sky seemed to hold so many mysteries back then, but that was to a degree, cleaned out by my mother and her friends, especially Murdock, when he came around I’d climb that tall tree branch by branch and hide; little if any time to dream, or reminisce back then.
I lived in this forest for quite a long time (until my mother had a temple build in the city of Yort for her by its worshipers of her), or so it seemed, a long time, I suppose I cannot really say for sure how long, I didn’t know how to measure time back then. Nor do I remember who cared for my needs, yet I recall going through the forest, and talking to a man named Sinned occasionally, a dread to my mother in later days. And my brother, he was born sometime down the road, can’t remember exactly when, he seemed simply to show up one day, and I had to keep an eye on him, or get a whipping from my mother. And likewise, I met my sister not sure if she was older than I, or younger, she was although brought up from the pits of the underworld, so I suppose she was older, Gwyllion was her name, and there was the demonic Mantocore, a friend of my mother’s from the netherworld who came to visit her off and on.

I do remember now, —somewhat that is, beings of another nature caring for me now and then, but I cannot recall, for the life of me, recall any one person. I think whoever nurtured me, or nursed me, was an animal, beast or something worse; I’ve blocked it out of my mind, and to this day do not care to surface it. In any case, spiders and bats, and rates all seemed to run from me, and I liked that, and I liked eating them, not for the flavor or because I was hungry, but rather, to get used to killing, my mother said it was good practice, work on the reflexes. I didn’t have a conception of a living person in those early days, but when I saw Sinned, I mockingly did, yet perhaps distorted, for he was a good man, but there were many good men as my mother would say later on, “All good men decay and taste just like bad men.”
To me there really was not a thing wrong with eating human flesh left in our front yard, its bones, I never saw the person alive, so it was nothing grotesque to me, bones were simply bones and skeletons of a being once alive, or in crypts deep in the ground, brought up for dinner. Back then, these things I write about now in my diary, were simply every-day happenings, nothing out of the ordinary, they were more natural to me, than unnatural. I had no human teachers to guide me, no human voices to teach me; my characteristics were a matter of unthought-of associated steps (I learned by association) in a developing personality (observations you might add), equal to my mother’s; somehow instinct is rolled up in this process also, as any son to a mother would unconsciously develop aspects of hers, so I did the same.

And so as time passed, and seasons came and left, I did as most children would do, waited to grow up, but I grew fast, real fast, but old, no, I did not become, in the sense of aging as humans do. In this process I longed for more than what I had, much more. The climbing of the great tree became boring. As did my mother’s temple in the days to come. And at last I started to venture near the edge of the forest, but never beyond it, and to be quite frank, several miles from it. I though I might fall off the edge of the world should I venture any closer, folks talked about that back then. Yort was high up on a mountain top of sorts, it came out as if to a plateau though. If you glimpsed from its edge, and jumped over it, you’d parish, mighty waters were far below this edge. To the other side was the forest, and beyond the forest was another world.

I journeyed away from my mother’s camp, deep in the thick forest, climbing over roots and rocks until I reached an opening where it all ended, and I clung onto the last tree, fearful I‘d never find my way back, I told myself, yet, I was running away (was I not) or at least in a way I felt I was. Ghastly and hauntingly was the dread of letting go of that last tree, to walk into a land unknown. I had created a small foothold where I stood. The land in front of me looked isolated, desert like, and rocky. No noise like in the deep winged forest. I didn’t make any progress for a long while, I just stood there. Then I climbed up the dark tree, as if it was the tower I had climbed so many times before, near my mother’s hovel, it was dusk. The tree was thinner then the tower, yet it supported my weight, and I found my body had a new kind of chill to it, a recurring chill, as it attacked me.
I folded my arms from the shivering, “Why…?” I asked myself, “…do I not go into the unknown land,” for I dared to come this far. I fancied myself an adventurer now, vainly so, one free hand one clutched to a tree. I embraced it like it was the last bone to chew on in my mother’s back yard.

All of a sudden, after an hour of climbing this tree from limb to limb, or branch to branch, crawling up it like a snake in slow motion, below laid a desperate sheer drop, should I let go; thus, I felt my head touch something, some kind of something. In the darkness, the moon shedding a lace of light above me, I raised my eyes; something stared at me, immovable. Then it came at me, deadly, clinging to me like a slimy worm, but it was hairy, it had paws, it pushed at me; I started to make a fearful decent. I fumbled about the base of the tree, and for the first time, I looked upon it, saw it, the stars above it shed more light, it was a red-tailed, winged Mantocore (head of a beastly man, and body of a beastly lion, and a tail that stung, with needle like knifes attached to it).
I had heard about them, seen one of them visit my mother. More and more I reflected upon it, as it did me, we both had stopped in our tracks to check out the other. I thought looking into its yellowish eyes, ‘…what gray secrets reside in them,’ for here was a creature like me, cut off from the rest of the world. And here we were unexpectedly, his eyes like stone, rough and strange, trying to figure out what its next step would be, if it was supreme to me, if its strength, could overcome me, was I an obstacle? Or should it make its escape. There was a kind of ecstasy to all this, it was testing me, and I stood shining in tranquilly as it did, iron fists ready to fight, stone like muscles, I never before was put into a test, like this.




With an utmost burst of strength, I grabbed it by one of its wings, dragged it down to my level, fancying now I had attained the very peak of conquest, but the sudden unveiling of the moon, by a cloud, allowed it to gain better sight and jump, and it did, and I stumbled, slowly falling from branch to branch in the dark, for it was still very dark. It was on top of me, and I carefully tried to unlock its teeth which were into my right forearm. Falling from this astonishing height, with a beast on top of you, the moon shinning on top of it was most demoniacal of all shocks.
It was the most unbelievable moment in my life, and the most unbelievable tragedy I had to undergo in my life, and a terror, a bizarre moment.
But I learned marvels do happen; the sight itself was horrendous, dizzying to say the least. Here was this creature stretched around me like a snake, and I, I was heading toward solid ground, his paws, like slabs of stone hitting my face, I was at this point, half unconscious only.

We hit the ground like a falling stone off a cliff, rolled a tinge, I staggered out of the forest, I had fallen on top of the beast, directly, his mind was stunned, and his twitching body, moved chaotically in circles, but his eyes still held the frantic craving to chew on my arm, yet it could not move much, its spine was cracked, I heard it crack, fantastic wonder of mishaps. I neither knew nor cared to be exact on the results of its wound, for me myself knew not who I was for a moment, neither of us any longer fearsome of the other. I had walked around him like a curiously tired cat.

I was now in the forest, ready to vanish from this part of the world, yes it took all this to push me out into the venerable new world, unfamiliar, maddening, perplexed, but I was now there. The trees branches were demolished, the wings of the creature were crushed. Accordingly, advancing I looked back a few times, saw the creature moving about, vaguely moving, but moving, it couldn’t hold any one expression, then as I got farther away, it looked incredibly remote (such recollections).
I now stepped further into the unknown world, the nightmare was quick to come, and now quick to go away, should I return to help the creature, I’d surely pay a price, and so I told my terrifying self, for I had a harsh demonstration of its kindness.
Scarcely had I made it out alive, when I heard wild dogs in the distance, they were dragging the Mantocore away, it was panicking, I head its cry, and madly I was fleeing into the deep unknown picking up my pace, blindly plunging into an awkward world, an escape. The cries were shocking, yet I kept my faster pace, still dazed, listening to the dogs yelp, and the creature cry. The cries were indescribable, unmentionable, vivid, but I took my delirious legs and kept walking.

I was nearly mad trying to escape now the dogs, and hearing the cries of the Mantocore in my brain. I did not want to face a second cataclysmic nightmare with the jackals as I did with the beast, there were many; I did not shriek, I simply walked faster, the jackals could smell me, the wind came down my way and onto the forest. There yelps were like fiendish ghouls, swimming within the night-wind. I remembered the fright I was in, most terrible it was. In this ultimate horror, this black reminisce, this chaos, listening to the echoing of the dogs, my mind created images, as I fled from a world I actually was safer in. I wanted to head on back, but I knew the dogs would not allow it. Perhaps the dogs were mocking me with their cries, hoping I’d come back to face them, they probably knew my mother, and hoped I’d be meat and bone for them. But they never clamed me, I was now an outsider to them, and they did not want to venture into this unknown world, where there was little green, and cold weather, and only spots of water.

1-1-2008