Nusquam Prefers to be Kept Anonymous

The first chapter of my Novel/Novella. I suggest reading my notes first. Currently listed as a short story

It has been said that we all die twice; many fear the first.  That sensation of the body ceasing to be, and if you believe it, the soul slipping away to the next horizon; it is something which few people can understand.  I think I was afraid of it at one point or another, but as life began to take its toll on me, the idea became normal as many other normal ideas became odd.  Many people however ignore or neglect that second death, a slow and fading death which is every bit as inevitable as the first.  What is it like to die a second time?  I wouldn’t know; after all, you are reading this aren’t you?  

Then what is the second death you ask?  The answer is terrifying in its simplicity; that moment in which no one remembers you, the last time someone speaks your name, that moment where none of your legacy remains.  To those who lived uneventful lives, this is not as terrifying as the first death; with little invested, they eagerly await the chance to leave for that new horizon�"go I say, descend to the Asphodel Meadows, you will not be missed.  But to those who have tirelessly tried to imprint if only an echo in this world, the idea of losing it all is much more heart-wrenching than physical death.  Seeing as you are reading this, it means that I am still alive and well; so I thank you as one would those who have saved their life time and time again.  Because each time you open this book, you do just this; you save me from the death which I fear most.  So again, Thank You.

Now, with that aside, I hope I have your attention; after all, this is a story with a life at stake.  You are likely wondering what it is like, waiting for a second death; do you watch from heaven above, before everything you have made joins you?  I doubt this, but perhaps we all experience a second death in different ways; after all, I doubt many people have died like I did the first time.  It was very ironic, which I suppose is actually quite common; but the specific way irony decided to take me has to be unique.  Not many people live and LITERALLY die by the pen; to most this would be humiliating, especially since it was an accident.  If however, the pen is mightier than the sword, perhaps it is not such a shameful way to go… or so I have been trying to tell myself, with limited success.  

Now, seeing as I have died, and yet you are reading this, you are probably curious as to what this ‘next’ life is like.  Well first of all, I am dead, make no mistake.  Oh, and I am not trapped in a book either, that idea is just absurd.  And before you ask, “How am I then talking through a book?” let me stop you there; I wrote this while I was still alive, I know it doesn’t make much sense, but that is life!  Now, as to what the next life is like, I suppose I can tell you; but honestly, this tense is tiresome.  I was never good at writing journals, and only stuck to first person so people wouldn’t think I was crazy.  The reality is that Nusquam is always thinking in third person, as if narrating his own life, so it only makes sense that he would narrate a book this way, he is much too lazy to challenge himself through an entire book.  Besides, if Nusquam wrote a book narrated after he was dead, talking in third-person was likely the least of his problems.  So Nusquam is going to violate this literary convention of consistent tense because there is no way that he could possibly write a whole book like that!  Try to forgive him, he is not a very good writer.

So anyway, you probably want a story; so here we go, 'In Medias Res' like the Epics of Greece! 

Nusquam found himself laying in a meadow of sorts, everything rendered to monochrome as if color itself was taboo.  But Nusquam had never liked color much, so a world of grey was actually quite relaxing.  He knew that he was dead, but somehow the idea was reassuring, at least he wasn’t in the middle of writing something.  To die in the middle of something, that was the only way that Nusquam really feared death; or more specifically, death while in the middle of writing something--death on the toilet, while humiliating, didn’t count.  Chuckling to himself, Nusquam imagined the reaction of the Janitor when he forced that stall open; unlike most people, Nusquam could appreciate the humor in his own passing.  Maybe he would get on the front page of the newspaper, or garnish some brief popularity on the internet as an urban legend?  Sure, it was not the most world-altering legacy to leave behind, but as Nusquam admitted earlier, he is not that good of a writer, so it was probably the best he could do.

He lay there for what was likely days, or at least by whatever standard of time existed in a place like this.  In life, you couldn’t just lay in a meadow like this for days on end, life was too busy and too filled with needs.  But Nusquam no longer had to eat, drink, or move; and somehow it was incredibly soothing.  He was at heart a very lazy person as well, for which he must likewise apologize.  Surely the reader doesn’t want to listen to a lazy man who spends all his afterlife simply laying in one spot, but Nusquam didn’t really care what the reader wanted; which is again, why he must apologize.  And so he just lay there, looking at a monochromatic sky, content to finally do nothing.  A legacy spent just laying here was still less shameful than death by pen in a bathroom stall… so until there was a need to move, Nusquam contented himself to just wait until something swept him up in its pace.  After all, protagonists do just this, going with the flow of what their writers desire.  But as a reader, you won’t have to wait long because thankfully this story is cliché; it doesn’t obsess with inactivity.  Nusquam doesn’t really care about how you feel, but he is also worried that you might stop readings, so he finally decided to act on a cliché; you should be grateful that he cares so much for you.

Right on cue, there was screaming on the horizon.  At first Nusquam was loathe to bother turning his head to look, but as the screaming drew closer, he eventually gave in to a curiosity which was greater than his desire to set new records.  At the edge of his sight, he could see a row of trees which he had not yet noticed.  Running towards him were hundreds of people, screaming with a terror which sent shivers down his spine.  From this distance it was almost a death rattle which shakes itself free from dying lungs.  A normal person would have immediately sprung to his feet in an attempt to get ahead of a throng which was clearly collectively fleeing an unimaginable horror, but Nusquam has never been a particularly normal person, and so he just continued to lay there indifferently as if whatever filled the others with such terror was of no concern to him.  It is easy to be indifferent when you already know how it ends.  This story was cliché, Nusquam already knew this; so why should he be worried?  Stories in which the Protagonist, Narrator, and Writer all die simultaneously on the second page are hardly cliché; in fact, such a story may not exist at all.  If such a story does, it is probably not very good; because good stories must be cliché.  With enough clichés, even a bad writer such as Nusquam can still write a good story.

They say that white is something made up of all colours; of course in a monochromatic world this just seems absurd.  If there is only a gradient of greys, then white is simply white, or so you would think.  But as the throng of not just hundreds, but actually thousands surged about him, several even tripping over him, Nusquam noticed just such a thing ripple through the trees.  A pure white shone with colour which seemed impossible in a world like this, a colour so fierce that it scorched the eyes and mind like an unhindered sun, rendering all other whites as grey.  But the sun doesn’t undulate across the ground at unnatural speeds, and it isn’t supposed to hunt people, so that is where the similarities end.  It makes a lot more sense that people would run from something trying to eat them after all.

As this blinding being burst from the trees, Nusquam could immediately tell that running was useless; it was moving at an impossible speed, which even those at the front of the line could never hope to match.  Even a writer would be forced to exploit Literary Device, which shows poor taste, and lack of skill in designing a story; so such a thing shouldn’t be squandered on a chase sequence.  As such, Nusquam watched in fascination as it drew near to those at the back of the fleeing crowd.  The brilliant entity shot out molten tendrils, snaking towards its unfortunate prey.  As each tendril brushed a person, they would let out a final scream before exploding in a pillar of light, leaving no trace, as if they had never been.  And with that flash, the burning mass would flicker stronger, brighter, and larger than before�"growing.  While he had not had any particular fear of death before, there was something about this which just felt wrong�"wrong, and terrifying.  Characters are not supposed to just disappear before your eyes; a proper writer gets his reader to remember characters.  Casting his eyes to both sides, he considered running in a separate direction from the crowd, but from both sides he saw similar flickering lights drawing in, and Nusquam realized that they had already been encircled; there would be no escape.  Well… in that case, he preferred to die in a dignified fashion, since he didn’t get to the first time.  So slowly standing, Nusquam stood, facing the few in the crowd still desperately trying to escape; shielding his eyes as best he could, he stood in a way which he imagined was dignified and steeled himself for the inevitable.

Deus ex Machina is another taboo of writing, possibly worse than shifting your tense, but one can hardly deny that it is a fun thing to say.  Nusquam of course never encouraged its use; it was a sign of poor writing, to just conveniently resolve an impossible situation with a contrived and improbable event.  But at this moment, it seemed to Nusquam that the most probable thing is that improbable things do happen, so transcending the situation by device, it was always an option.  And no one wants a story to end just a few pages in, unless it is really terrible.  Sure, he is a bad writer, bad enough to use Deus ex Machina or to spoil his own story; but this wasn’t that terrible a story!  After all, he has ambition to write paragraphs and not stanzas; which isn’t really a fair thing to say, so he apologizes.  If you really do think this is terrible, go ahead and suppose that the most probable things in life will always happen.  Close the cover, and unmake Nusquam.

Just as the tendril touched his face, in what was almost a loving caress, Nusquam felt a searing pulse course through his body, pure agony, as if it was a crescendo for all the suffering which life had brought him; just as suddenly it was gone.  Opening his eyes, he noticed a black mass writhing in front of him; convulsing several times, it began to shrink.  It was an improbable turn of events, and Nusquam was grateful that he was a bad writer, but not terrible enough to be unreadable; as such he must thank you for your devotion, and he apologizes for always apologizing.  The dark mass finally quivered and then oozed down to the ground with a final spluttering cough, leaving a tar-like goo pooled across the ground.  The world was again monochromatic, and Nusquam felt a serene appreciation for grey quiver through him, repairing all the pain from the moment before.

While it had been difficult to keep his eyes on the burning masses from before, the goo before him seemed to have the opposite effect; he couldn’t take his eyes off it!  Tentatively, Nusquam prodded the goo with his shoe, yes… there are shoes in this world.  Nusquam had studied about how to world-build, but it seems absurd that he needs to explain something as simple as shoes, but apparently detail matters for these things.  What if this world had no shoes?  Surely it makes a difference, to have a shoe, while prodding enigmatic goo in a netherrealm?  Apologies, surely a proper Tolkien writer would describe shoes; but Nusquam doesn’t care ‘that much’; but he digresses!  Despite being prodded, nothing happened.  And while most people would not think of doing this mere moments after what had transpired, Nusquam was filled with a curiosity of what it tasted like.  It has already been established that he wasn’t normal, or right in the head; but he also really likes eating.  So he lowered a finger to scoop some up and sample it.  But as his finger dipped into the goo, it recoiled from him, and squirming a few feet away began to writhe violently.

The gelatinous shadow then sprang up so suddenly that Nusquam stumbled backwards, tripping over his own shoes.  It was now in the form of a man, but still every bit the shadow from before.  Cheerfully the shadow bowed and introduced itself,

 “Hey, the name is ‘K’.”  

So here Nusquam was, standing in a grey field, flabbergasted at the shadow of a man standing before him�"this being known as K.  Now the reader is likely thinking that his shock is over the idea of such a sudden transformation; and to be fair, it was a bit surprising.  But if you know anything about ‘K’, which few of you will, then you should know that he is no stranger to metamorphosis; for him to not transform in such a manner like this would be even more odd.  No… Nusquam was mostly flabbergasted as to how he was supposed to write a story with a character named simply ‘K’, it would be a very annoying thing.  People who use a mere letter for a character all too often are obsessed with novelty to the point that they write poor stories or are just too lazy to think of a good name.  Nusquam racked his mind, trying to think of a proper name for ‘K’, he knew that he did have a good and proper name, but somehow it just wouldn’t come to mind.  Looking at the shadow which was patiently waiting for him to make a decision, Nusquam decided that he would just keep it as ‘K’ for now; for which he apologizes.  But you see, character names shouldn’t really matter; after all, ‘Nusquam’ surely did not have a meaning which had any bearing at all upon this story.

With this decided ‘K’ nodded in agreement before remarking, “It is what I would have done as well.”  Looking down at his form for the first time he seemed relieved, a relief which he cautiously expressed, “I see that I don’t have six-legs; that is unexpected.  Either you don’t know who I actually am, or perhaps you actually understand the meaning of Ungeziefer?”  

Honestly, Nusquam has no idea what that word really means, and it seems terribly out of place to put a German word which means ‘a beast unfit for sacrifice’ into his story, so he resolved that the question was best not answered.  After all, if he humored the question as to what German words meant, before long his story would be bogged down with all manner of foreign words which no person could possibly know; Nusquam had always disdained people who did this, especially those who thought randomly inserting Latin into a name for something made the work ‘intellectual’, with no regard at all for the reader.  It is unfair to make a reader have to look up words just to understand what you are trying to reference; all those absurd esoteric jokes.

And so, because it is unfair to be using German words, ‘K’s form rippled briefly before he dropped down to the ground, and taking the form of a giant cockroach, he began to skitter about.  Clacking his newly formed mandibles in dismay, ‘K’ peevishly cried out, “Really?  Really!”

Nusquam felt bad for ‘K’, it seemed very unpleasant to be an insect, especially a cockroach.  But it would be easier on the reader, so it had to be done.  You should be grateful that you were chosen, ‘K’ even had to become a cockroach just so you wouldn’t have to worry about foreign words anymore.

Now Nusquam and ‘K’ have a lot in common, they are both much too complacent, and the both of them knew this.  It seemed as though both frequently got caught up in absurd situations because they didn’t know how to resist it.  So ‘K’s distress did not last long.  While many people would be infuriated to be turned into a cockroach, ‘K’ was the type to be much more concerned about how he was going to get to work as a cockroach.  Coming to terms with this latest metamorphosis, ‘K’ sighed deeply and remarked, “It is what I would have done as well

See, Nusquam had not really thought through this story beforehand, so he is really just making it up as he goes.  He understands how it is supposed to end, but not really how he is supposed to get there.  Most writers might get a block of sorts, but Nusquam was lucky because he could rely on other people in his story to help him move the story along; it is really an unfair handicap.  There were many questions he could ask, such as “What is your favorite colour?”  But in a monochromatic world, such a question didn’t really make sense; how was one supposed to answer?  Dark Grey?  No, not that Dark Grey, the slightly lighter Dark Grey.  Since this story is supposed to be cliché, instead Nusquam asked the natural question that a person would ask in this situation, “Where, exactly, are we?”  That was a good question, easy enough to answer.

‘K’ ceased his skittering about, and rolling backwards, he took a pose that looked much like a man in deep thought; however, this is an unsettling pose for an insect to take, with all six limbs wiggling about in front of him, some to stroke his antenna in thought, and others waving about trying to keep balance.  Nusquam somewhat regretted considering the reader.  ‘K’ apologized, not for his grotesque form, which is more something the reader should apologize for, but rather for his uncertainty, “I’m sorry, things are a bit scrambled in my head.  You try being in one of those things, and see how well you remember things!  Anyway…” the cockroach stopped in mid-sentence, as if trying to grab hold of a train of thought which could slip away at any moment.  Nusquam knew better than to interrupt someone when they were like this, so he just patiently waited for ‘K’ to remember.  Finally the cockroach spoke, yet another grotesque display, be grateful you have never seen a cockroach speak.  Hesitantly at first, ‘K’ mused, “Well… we are dead.  So this must be some form of afterlife?”

Face-palm:  This had been established pages ago, it didn’t help at all!  To which Nusquam prodded along the conversation, trying to remind the odd cockroach of where they were, so that he in turn could be told, “Yes, this is an afterlife.  It is a world of legacies, we are simply legacies for our own work.”

‘K’ spent a moment processing this, and nodded in agreement, “Yes, I believe you are right.  It seems to make sense.  I mean, look at me!  I am how I would have done it… or at least how you would think I would have done it.”  Pausing for a moment, ‘K’ scratched at his head in frustration, “that just sounded stupid.”  Looking around them, the cockroach took in the forest which was now calmly waiting on the horizon, and twisting his head about, he noticed something in the distance.  Gesturing at it with all his limbs, a movement which threw his balance off and made him fall to the ground, ‘K’ remarked, “Look over there!  I think there is a city up on that mountain.”

Looking over to the direction which the cockroach had gestured, Nusquam felt satisfied that their conversation had finally born fruit.  And since this was a cliché story, it was obvious where they should go.  It was nice not having to think carefully about the plot, and just having the characters point him to the next event.  And so, trying to hide his disgust, Nusquam pulled ‘K’ who was stuck on his back, legs  flailing in every direction, up; and together the two quickly decided to go to the city.  After all, it seemed the best direction for the story to take.  So, with a final look about in all directions, in case some other device was available and finding none, the two departed the fields for the distant mountain and the wonders which the city, in all probability, contained.

   

 

 

Author's Note

Alright, this was a story idea I came up with when I was trying to think of a horror story. There was a creature known as Anonymous which consumed you, and all of your legacy became part of him; you faded into oblivion. I then realized, this had more potential than just a horror short story! So I started crafting an after-life scenario... filled with all sorts of authors, artists, and scientists, who are represented by their legacies, trapped in them. This whole world is a bizarre surreal hell in which souls don't exist, only people's legacies; legacies which are confined to their past. Meanwhile, this creature known as Anonymous prowls the land hunting legacies to consume. Most of the well known people in history have grouped together into a fortification to avoid being consumed! It started out as a serious story idea, but the more I thought about the potential of the situation, the more I wanted to do it satirically. Especially, when I realized that strictly speaking, this story is part of my 'legacy'... so if I was the main character, strictly speaking my legacy would be the whole world it is built around. Some paradoxical shit there! As my younger brother remarked, after I explained the plot and setting in detail, "It was something you would laugh at, until you realized just how morbid the setting was, and then you would feel guilty... like telling dead-baby jokes." So I decided to do just this, crafting a dark satire which explores numerous dark themes in a bizarrely upbeat manner. The story is filled with blatant contradictions, dark irony, numerous deliberate violations of writing convention, and massive amounts of subtle literary and historical references. If you have a love for the classics, you should find this particularly interesting. All in all, I feel like this is going to turn out great, but I decided that I should go ahead an share the first chapter to get additional opinions. I am posting this as a story, not a book, because I am not intending to upload the whole piece, at least not until I finish it. If you can't figure out who K is, then feel free to check the tags... if you have not read 'k' I suggest you do. #1 because his work is amazing... and #2 there are a lot of jokes here which will go over your head otherwise.

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

"But you see, character names shouldn’t really matter; after all, ‘Nusquam’ surely did not have a meaning which had any bearing at all upon this story."

" ‘K’ even had to become a cockroach just so that you wouldn’t have to worry about foreign words anymore."

These two made me laugh out loud. This is a wonderful homage. What could be more flattering than an allusion referring to yourself? I think 'K' would heartily applaud your story. And 'K' would remain doubly alive, as a character here and as the original that you allude to.

Now I hate to be a party pooper but-- "tense" refers to time, "point of view" to the speaker. Tense does sound better though, and you're throwing all conventions to the wind, so why not? Oh wait, now that I look more closely, you do change tense as well as POV.

Have you ever seen the Monty Python sketch, "Confuse-a-Cat?" This could easily be titled "Confuse-a-Reader." I love it!

[Nusquam Esse]

This was a very entertaining piece to write, with a style that I had never seen before, and so much irony and absurdity at every turn. Excellent catch on the POV vs. Tense, surprised someone noticed that actually... :P I pretty much deliberately tossed every convention I could think of to the wind; and oddly enough, this actually turned out pretty good. Not sure how well I can keep the whole piece with this sort of momentum further down the road, but for a short piece, I loved satirizing those conventions that always seem so infallible. And of course I have seen that Flying Circus sketch... :P I doubt I could write a piece like this without a solid appreciation for British comedy, some good ol' Swiftian irony. (In later chapters that I wrote Jonathan Swift does make an appearance...)

[Lyn Anderson]

I can't believe I was remiss in commenting on this story, because it is so well written and I remembered thoroughly enjoying it. I can only assume it was one of those weird computer glitches where I got bored and cancelled after the little circle went round and round a couple times. This would have been very difficult to write, with all its thwarting of the rules. Wonderful stuff.

[deepika]

very interesting read, uniqueness at its best. You made me feel that I am a part of this story, as if watching it happen in front of my eyes.

[Woody]

I don't think I've ever read anything remotely similar to this style. I love it when the character addresses the reader.
funny, thought provoking. a huge entertainment and an enjoyable read.
yes, everybody seems to think so, you have a unique style.

[David Scott]

I enjoyed the creativity and uniqueness of this write N. I also like the use of "K" as well.
Writing from the after life is interesting as well. Not a new idea, but still, you did a very fine job of keeping me interested in your story. You are in fact a very fine writer. Thank you for sharing this with us. I will be looking for the book. :)

[Simone]

This is the most unique piece of writing I've ever read. i really really enjoyed it. i love your style. i have to say satire is not usually my favorite thing to read but you've done well. i really love this. :)

[Darkimmortal]

First of all I really love the way that this entire piece is written. It was so sarcastic and clever it really gives you a voice. I was thoroughly entertained as I was reading through it. I also have to comment on the imagination that it took to create a story like this. Not very many people would think to comment on the horrors of losing their legacy, most people (including myself) tend to focus on the horrors of your "first death" and I really love the way that you explained that. It made me think of how terrible it would be if i worked all of my life for something, to leave my mark on the world and to suddenly have it extinguished. I would not necessarily say that it was scary in any way, but it definitely got me thinking. Well done!!! :) You are a wonderful writer.

[Jennie Baron]

Very imaginative, and amusing in spite of exploring dark themes. I hope you don't mind that I was laughing at the way you satirize yourself and practically every writing convention there is. But it also has something profound to say about the legacy each of us leaves and whatever "afterlife" there may be. A memorable story.

[Nusquam Esse]

I am glad you liked this so far! I am attempting to write it as a novel, or at least a novella. So far I have several chapters, but several of them are still on paper. All in all, I intended it to be satirical. If you would believe it, the idea was originally a horror story. But then I added a few more ideas... and then when I was discussing the idea with my brother we both started laughing; and then I realized that it was best done in light humor. Even if it has a powerful and disturbing theme, sometimes the funniest things in life are the things which disturb and shake us to our core!

[Jennie Baron]

Good luck with expanding it to a novel/novella. I know it will be great.

[Wolfwind]

I loved the flow, style and descriptive diversity that you've brought to life in this chapter. The visual ability of your writing style brings to life your images in a very robust and yet deeply metaphysical way. This is the type of story that I can sit back and enjoy being emersed in a dynamic world of color and motion, as if a movie or animation was constantly flowing around me.
I enjoyed the opening with the use of self dialog, I felt it really set the mood and drew me in as a reader.

A very enjoyable experience to read. I wish you well on your continued efforts.

Wolfwind

[unpublished]

This is a very unique and interesting take on story telling. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It is definitely the first time I have ever read anything like it, and I do not think it could be duplicated. Very interesting. Very good.

[Nusquam Esse]

Thanks much! I always strive to create something unique down to its core; filled with subtle complexity. And because of that, I don't think my stories could easily be duplicated, as you said. Hell, if someone can actually 'steal' my ideas and improve them, I would be interested in reading them! It is good to know that this odd format worked for you; I have been a bit tentative, since I have never tried writing Satire 'quite' like this before. I'll let you know when I finish it up, I am putting a tentative deadline of 2 months or so... although proofreading may delay this.