A Magician and Her Assistant (Poetry)

The bridge pins of her harp
Glimmered in the stage lights
While she fingered the strings
And breathed in the sound.

There was darkness in the room
And wet dog breath in the air.
Joanna Newsom’s holy words
Were already on their way.

She sang of a love
That was older than time,
In an ancient language
That only she understood.

I felt it through the hollow ground
As it crawled up to the surface.
Through my arms, my collarbone.
Through my wrists, my thighs.
To the bones of my back.

But my black heart could see
That her words fell short of her heart,
As they always did.

I kept getting fired or discarded.
I couldn’t love anyone that lived.
Every night I went to sleep
Hoping I wouldn’t wake up again.

I stood on the phantom bridge
Right where the herringbone turned,
Where my heart began to race,
The way it did all those magical times.

As Joanna held me close,
She asked if she was too heavy.
I gave her a wink, all smiley like.
We knew that wouldn’t be a worry,
Because she knew I had her back,
And also because she’s small.

A place to call home.
Someone who holds me up when I fall.

“The world is broken,”
She whispered into my ear,
“And you can’t fix it.”

Joanna’s voice was so soft,
It made me shiver.
I tried to fight her off,
But she was too strong.
I gave in, and she took me.
I felt like I was burning alive.
I felt like I was being reborn.

Joanna’s phantom walked beside me
Every day, from morning to night.
It made me happy and sad.
It made me scared and mad.

I wonder if she remembers how it felt,
A million miles away from now.
What she was like back then,
Who she knew,
What dreams she had.
To wake up again as the little girl
That the adults pretended she was.

The world is collapsing
Before my eyes.
Joanna’s mind was full
Of swirls and rainbow cars
As she sang songs
That only she could hear.

“I will take you away,”
Joanna said.
“We’ll go far, far away.”
And we did.

I wonder if she understands
That we were born into a circus;
A magician and her assistant
Whose job is to amuse.

We’re the clowns and they are the master,
The one that knows what’s real.
We’re the acrobats and they are the rope,
The one that ties us up.
We’re the lions and they are the cage,
The one that keeps us in.

We have to keep the show going
For the rest of our lives.

I wonder if she’s dreaming
Of all the people she’s met,
Of a place that feels like home,
And if that place is made of stars.

Would the magic stop working?
Would the illusion disappear?
Would the music fade away?
And what if the magician left,
Or got sick, or lost her voice,
And never performed again?

She can’t know how I’ve changed,
Became more like myself.
Thoughts I hold deep down in my heart,
They keep me in hell.

I am the man
Who stands alone
In a field of wildflowers,
Watching them die.

The words that move
Like stone and flame,
They carry me away
Into a broken place.

Post-mortem for “Odes To My Triceratops”

Not much to say, really. I won’t be recalled back to work until next week or so. It was around one in the morning in a Thursday and I could tell it was one of those nights in which I wouldn’t fall asleep until around four. I figured I would try to write something fun, so I put together a few prompts on a Google Docs file, as usual. The last one of them read, “William Griffin, before he died tragically at age seventeen in October of 2008, wrote a song about his friend Lorenzo, who is a Triceratops with a portal to hell inside his throat. William was also in love with a sixteen years old neighbor of his, a blind girl named Claire and who couldn’t read nor write.”

I don’t recall having to think much, if at all, for that to come out of my fingers. A boy writing a song isn’t fun enough to write about, but it is more fun if there’s a dinosaur involved, and even better if you have a contrasting third character who is also interesting. I ended up writing until seven in the morning, and the following day I ordered the stuff into a somewhat coherent narrative, then uploaded the first two parts. That Friday I also wrote most of the poems that comprised William’s demise. As usual, I was alone and half-delirious, so it came out easy.

I ended up writing a few more poems for both the first and the second parts of this strange tale in three parts, so if you read the first two and liked them, you might want to go over them again.

Odes to My Triceratops, Pt. 3 (Poetry)


Once William’s triceratops friend was seen for the last time, William Griffin’s mood plummeted. His neighbor Claire Javernick moved away days later. Riddled with guilt and despair, the texts that William produced during this stage up to his death have remained a source of discussion for years.

I met Lorenzo a long, long time ago.
I bet he is somewhere in the sky.
When he died I put him in the earth,
Buried him in a hole you can’t see.

I met Claire last night.
She was sixteen and she was blind,
She was blind but she could see.
The way she looked at me with those greys,
I was sent straight to hell.

Her house has been empty since then.
She took my warmth with her.
She went down to hell to stay.
She had said it once but said it again:
“Hell yeah.”

‘Hell Yeah’ by William Griffin

The shadows, the black and the grey
Ran down her face so dreadfully.
Every time I looked I saw her tears.
She never agreed to stay the night.

Lorenzo, a giant skeleton,
A living graveyard for the dead.
A door in his throat
Was leading right to hell,
Where there are worms and dinosaurs.

Claire, you can’t escape your fate.
Claire, the sixteen years old girl
With no idea how to read or write.
You’re so small, but in your heart
You’re a fourteen-year-old slut.

I like boys, I like boys,
I like boys, I like boys,
I like boys, I like boys,
I like boys, I like boys,
I like boys, I like boys,
I like boys, I like boys,
I like boys, I like boys,
I like boys, I like boys.

‘Worms and Dinosaurs’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo killed the dinosaurs,
And he’s about to kill your ass
For snorting his drool
Like I’ve seen you do.

He’s been hungry for a while now,
That triceratops.

Fuck you, don’t open the door.
You’ll never find him there,
And you don’t want to see what’s behind.

A door is there.
You’ve got to step inside,
And pray that I’m wrong.

“I love you, Claire,” I’d say.
“I’m so glad that we were born!”
And you would say, “I love you too, Billy.
What are we going to do today?”
“I think we’ll walk the stairs
Up to the last, then maybe
Go for a swim!”

We can’t stop! We can’t stop!

Never stare at the door, I said.
Never stare at the door
When it opens.

‘Lorenzo the Kinslayer’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo was the dino from out of town
That everybody knew for years.
Lorenzo was the dino from out of town,
And he was gonna stay a while.

He didn’t even have a last name.
He would have taken Claire’s.

They made a deal
To see what they were made of.
They ate, they drank and they made love
In good times and in bad.

Lorenzo was the dino from out of town
That everybody knew for years.
Lorenzo was the dino from out of town
And he was gonna stay a while.

Claire was the girl from this town,
The girl from this town,
The girl from this town.
She was supposed to stay.

‘Keep Your Last Name’ by William Griffin

Claire,
You couldn’t write a thing,
Nor read for that matter,
But you must have known
Just by the way my smile felt
In your fingertips
That my love for you was real.

All I could do was walk the streets
And keep you near.

I loved you, Claire,
But now you’re gone.

‘In Your Fingertips’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo died then, in the night.
I was sleeping when he passed away.
I was nowhere near that place, I swear,
Where they said he died.
He was singing a lullaby to me.
I heard beauty in his voice.

I wish I could hear his voice again,
And both our voices would sing together.
I wish it was a real voice that I was hearing,
Instead of a track of white noise.

I wish this voice I hear was him,
Not his part in a symphony orchestra,
That way a dinosaur’s voice breaks,
But only for a second.

Just like the choir song
‘Joy to the World’ from ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’,
I wish I could be hearing and feeling the joy
And singing songs.

And I would love to sing a song
About the day that I kissed her.
Like a cool breeze on a summer’s day,
It would keep on going on.

‘I Know I Can Sing’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo was a friend of mine.
We didn’t always see eye to eye,
But he was a pretty good friend to me.

Until one day that I noticed
That he’d given me his voice
And now his voice is in my head,
Whispering things about stuff he said
And about some things he did.

So maybe I’m doing the same thing.
Maybe I’m doing something bad,
But it feels so good to be the one
Who caused it all to go wrong.

Lorenzo betrayed me by fucking my girl.
Claire, you were sweet as apple pie.
You felt all alone and I couldn’t bear to see
That you never opened your eyes.

‘A Debt’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo was the friend of a girl
Who makes me feel bad,
‘Cause she went and turned her back.
His trunk was like his throat,
Where you could see inside
A portal to hell.

And she thought he was pretty cute,
And back then I believed I was in love,
I embraced a kind of craziness.
I guess I owe it to Lorenzo,
Who held a mirror towards me,
And in there I saw a fool.
It was a friend that made me grow.

‘A Friend Made Me Grow’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo was a big ol’ triceratops,
A sort of prehistoric water buffalo,
With a God-awful nightmare in his throat.
He went on a dangerous journey to hell,
To let the devil back into our town.

So I stabbed the son of a bitch in the neck.
His blood squirted all over the damn place.
I buried the motherfucking bastard.
I thought about Claire, but…

But why should I worry about that bitch?
She thinks she can fuck with triceratopses.
She knew she would have been sorry in the end.
I ain’t putting up with it no more.

Lorenzo didn’t forgive her.
He killed her too, poor Claire,
Or at least I imagined he did
To forget how she stared at me then.

Lorenzo fell in love with her too.
Claire smiled at him so beautifully.
She was a looker, could have caused a war.
To have someone like that to call my wife.

Forget the girl, forget the snake.
I put him in a tomb,
And when the pressure gets too hard,
I’ll open it and let the big bastard out again.

‘You Were the Reason for All of This’ by William Griffin

The words on the page,
They are just too plain.
I can’t read.
I have no clue what anything means.

The man in the sky has sent me a plan
To prove I am insane,
And I can hear the crash of the sky falling down,
Crushing me into ashes.

I can hear the wail of the cries,
But why can I not hear the child of divine creation
Playing with that strange man
Behind the gate?

I don’t have the ears to hear his laugh.
The gate is mine now,
And I don’t know where the hell I am going.

‘Let Me In’ by William Griffin

Your name was Lorenzo,
And it’s time to resurrect.

When I’m awake, I’m in hell.
When I’m asleep, I’m in hell.

Your name was Lorenzo.
You were waiting for a token
To open the portal.

When my mother is crying,
I am smiling, don’t you know?
My mother cries and my father smiles.
My mother cries and my father smiles.
My mother cries and my father smiles.
My mother cries and my father smiles.

How could he had the responsibility
To guard the portal to hell
With a name like Lorenzo?

And in your black hole,
Do you hear the angels’ chorus?

When I am asleep, I’m in hell.
When I’m awake, I’m in hell.

Your name was Lorenzo.
No angel nor animal will help you.
What are you waiting for?

‘Lazarus’ by William Griffin

The bones in his body
Showed through his eyes.
In his throat there was a portal to hell,
But the portal to hell inside his throat
Stopped him from being a giant.
Now he lies as a skeleton
On my pillow.

‘Just a Skeleton’ by William Griffin

I could sing a lullaby to a dinosaur.
I could sing a lullaby to the triceratops
With the portal to hell in his throat.
I could sing a lullaby to my sixteen years old neighbor,
Who used to be there,
And couldn’t read nor write.

Come on my way to play basketball
With the ancient astronauts.
Come on my way to play baseball
With the dinosaurs.
Come on my way to play hockey
With the cyclops.
Come on my way to see the triceratops
With the portal to hell in his throat.

You can kiss my hairy, hairy ass
While I’m playing with the dinosaurs.
I’ll kiss yours,
So kiss mine, if you want to.

‘Lullabies for the Undeserving World’ by William Griffin

All I remember of you is you’d look into my eyes
And you’d ask what I wanted,
And I’d say, “I want to go to heaven.”
You were the Devil’s child,
Filled with this hatred for me.
I could feel it, it was no secret,
I could see it in your eyes and in your rage,
With your tears as well as your laughter.
I could see you were truly evil.
The blood running down the side of your beak,
Your hands full of death. Your wrath was terror.
You took my innocence, you stole my childhood.
You contaminated my heart.

But you are no longer here,
And I’ll see you in hell.

‘Lorenzo Is No More’ by William Griffin

Everybody hates, yeah, everybody hates.
Except for some idiots, yeah, everybody hates.
They hate the heroes, yeah, everybody hates.
Some say “Hate the rich,” yeah, everybody hates.
Sugar and spice and everything nice, yeah, everybody hates.
They hate the geeks, yeah, everybody hates.
All the old people, yeah, everybody hates.
All the kids, yeah, everybody hates.
I hate the whole fucking thing.

The way you must be feeling, baby,
Your daddy was gone too soon,
But I do believe in hell, I do.
In my dreams He tells me all about it.
I hear the angels, how they shout,
And the babies keep on crying,
And the sun is sinking.

Well, I know I’m a little weird, yeah,
But I’m harmless, yeah,
I harbor the beginning of the end,
And I’m not gonna last very long.

‘Everybody Hates’ by William Griffin

I am seventeen years old.
I am an animal and a monster.
I live in a mirror,
And that’s my home.
I will hunt you down
And make you suffer.
I’ll tear your heart apart
And then eat it.

‘I Hope I Die Soon’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo could have stayed
A creature of the Earth,
But the fiery heart that burned within him
Could not be so restrained.
He was twisted like a prison cell,
And tortured by the fears in his head.
He hid in his shell so no one could see
His pain and torment.
He was not meant to be like this,
He was meant to be left alone.
He needed help, but no one could help him;
Who knows how to treat a goddamned dinosaur.
They were all supposed to be dead.

There’s no hope, there’s no hope.
There’s no hope, there’s no hope.
There’s no hope, there’s no hope.

‘Inside His Shell’ by William Griffin

In his secret diary, Lorenzo wrote,
“Griffin, my body is a fortress of reason.”

From the sky full of stars above,
A silver rain pours inside,
Though I’m just seventeen.
Claire’s gone, she’s gone too.

It’s so strange, how could he have
Left a girl who wasn’t finished?
I could have told him, but he’d never listened.
Maybe he’ll listen when I’m finished.

‘Why Haven’t I Died yet?’ by William Griffin

I am locked inside my mind.
I am losing the flow of my thoughts,
And I need someone to save me.

I was taken to a doctor but he wouldn’t help me.
I need a scientist, a shaman or a preacher.
Tell me how to escape this.
Alone and dumb, lying alone in the night.

I am crying and I am crying and I am shaking inside.
I am trembling, I am shaking and I can’t hide my hate.
I am crying, crying, crying, crying and I can’t hide my hate.
I can’t escape this!

Well, yes I can!
I’m gonna die anyway.
I’m gonna die anyway.
I’m gonna die anyway.

‘Panic! Panic! Panic!’ by William Griffin

I am ill, this I know;
My heart is sick and my head rotten.
I’m here on earth today
‘Cause it is Saturday,
And all of a sudden I see it clear:
I see that it is too late.

All of the things I had wanted to do
Would not have made a difference.
Had them once and never again.
I am sick of wanting it to be different.

I’d die to be just where I am,
But in a land of plenty.
There is no fear in this journey.

I would die to be like Lorenzo.
At least I think I would.
Everyone must die,
So why don’t I follow him?

‘Extinct Like You’ by William Griffin

I can’t die a virgin.
I wish I had a pistol;
I’d shoot myself
And die a martyr.

I’m in love with this girl.
Someday she will look at me
The same as I look at her.

I know that my time’s up
And that I’ll die a virgin,
Just like God.

Someday I’ll meet her,
But it won’t be today.
I hope that she’s standing
In a black and white photo
With her hand on her chest,
Waiting to hear me whisper,
“I love you.”

Someday I’ll marry her
And we’ll be together,
And when we’re old
And frail and lonely,
We’ll talk and she’ll say,
“Tell me again.”

“I love you, I love you,
I love you, I love you,
I love you, I love you.”

But I didn’t love her enough.
I’ll die a virgin.

‘Die a Virgin’ by William Griffin

I know where hell’s fire burns,
In a place where everyone goes.
I know the gates are closed,
But who knows for how long.

I feel like hell’s on the inside.
Why was I born to suffer this?
Was I spat here to stand this pain?

I know the path is long,
And that I will die someday.
Hell is all around,
‘Cause I’m stuck, trapped
In a hell with no escape.

Here’s to Lorenzo, who was a triceratops
With a hell portal in his throat.

‘Where Hell’s Fire Burns’ by William Griffin

Hear it on the hilltops of the east,
Those wondrous portals
Opening to a crystal labyrinth
Inside my head.

What then goes into the nothing?
I’ll give you the portals.
They open to a jumbled rose field.
You tell me if it is the cloud of Eden.

A great fiery pillar
Going nowhere and coming from nowhere.
Lorenzo and Claire with Him
As I swing the peephole closed.
Heaven is now on the move.

‘Firefly Bumblebee by William Griffin

Lorenzo sat on the hill of flame
And opened the door to hell.
Two souls escaped with wings of fire,
Both headed out of here.

Someday I’ll make it to that far shore
Where eagles fly on the smell of earth.
I’ll sit and rest in my blue suit.
The memories will blur and fade to the wind.

Lorenzo will sit with his eyes upon me
On the grass ignited with flames,
And as I shove my hand down my throat,
I’ll recall the day he took you from me.

I yearn for my soul to burn,
And your spirit to land upon my hand,
As I wait in the dark.

‘Rest in My Blue Suit’ by William Griffin

Will swallowed a cancer.
His asshole was full of pythons.
He swallowed an earthquake,
And the stars fell to their knees.
He swallowed a goddamn volcano,
And threw up an avalanche.
He swallowed it all
And it almost choked him to death.

In his throat, a dark-red portal to a land
Where damned souls roam free.
Stretching forever, a bridge through time
To the endless void of the Abyss.

In this vast and desolate land of hungry monsters,
He will face His executioner.
Alone Will stands, strapped to a rock.
A vengeful god shoots him with a flamethrower
And burns him alive.

He’s burning like a chicken.
His flesh is sizzling.
Burnt wood, burning steak.
He dies.
Hell burns, hell’s walls collapse.
He dies again,
Once, twice, thrice.

He dies.
It’s over.
He’s dead.

‘William Griffin’s Death Song’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo was a triceratops
With a portal to hell inside his throat.
Claire was a self-righteous fifteen years old
That has never been to school.
She did not want to love me,
Although I did the best I could.

I am a young man, but my fate
Is clear as a blackboard.
Lorenzo was a triceratops
With a portal to hell inside his throat.
I would have been the size of a dinosaur
When I grew up.
I cannot change my past,
Don’t want to heave these mistakes.

And my final words,
Written before my tragic death,
Are:

Well, shit.
I’m seventeen,
And I loved her,
So there’s that.

‘Farewell, My Friends’ by William Griffin

William got no answer from Claire Javernick before he died. Will therefore died a miserable teenage boy. He had a beautiful mom, a wonderful sister, and a step-father who didn’t love him as much as he should have. But in the end William lost his two friends.

Before Claire Javernick died in a car crash on December 14, 2019, she wrote a poem about William, which she never titled.

I was walking in the snow
With a boy named William.
He was my neighbor in our street.
He was born on the 6th of May.
One night he called me crying.
He was only fourteen years old.

I felt scared,
And never so alone.
I looked at the sky for an answer.
His sister took away his songs.
I’ll never forget him,
And I’ll never forget him,
And I’ll never forget him.

Claire also wrote about some tree which is located in a forest in Vermont.

William Griffin died on April 6, 2009. His story remains unfinished, and his lyrics continue to be discussed on William Griffin’s official website, which is run by his sister.

It was a dark night for Triceratops. Nobody around him lightened the mood. As he walked, he found himself surrounded by horrible birds, alive and dead. He was worried about finding a place to sleep, because all the good spots were taken. He also needed to eat if only to fill an emptiness in his throat that he hadn’t felt before.

“Well, what am I to do?” Lorenzo asked for input to the sky.

He disliked when the guy in the sky remained silent. For some reason He thought that He could get away with that.

But then God said to him, “Look at your right side.”

The triceratops looked at his right flank, which had never seemed so red. A warmth was rising from his legs. He felt he was going crazy.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his side in a field of sleeping sheep, all of them facing the sky and snoring. Everything was getting redder and redder. Then the sound of snoring stopped and even the wind got quiet.

Lorenzo looked around the field until he spotted some people with their bodies covered in red. They were walking towards the group of sleeping sheep, and one of the people was staring at the triceratops. The next thing Lorenzo knew, he was flying along with the group of red men. He soared above the rolling hills, but he wasn’t enjoying it, because he thought he was going to die.

“That’s great,” he thought. “All this redness and pain, just to die by getting covered in sheep crap.”

The more he thought about dying, the more it scared him, because he was quite sure that he would end up in hell. The triceratops cried a little.

Some of the sheep got up and looked at the triceratops and his red eyes, and beautiful red hair, and beautiful red skin.

The triceratops continued flying around and around and around, until he heard the sound of a human voice. It sounded a little like his friend William Griffin, but different. Lorenzo landed on a large rock. The sheep had all gathered around a human being, and they were staring with sad, worried faces.

Lorenzo walked over to the sheep. He wanted to say something, but his throat hurt so bad that he could barely speak, and he knew that if he did speak, it would sound as if he were dying.

Then the human being said, “I have been given the gift of eternal life. I have been given the gift of seeing and experiencing the world. I have been given the gift of being surrounded by living things that love me and care about me.”

The human being lay down, and the sheep started running around him. Then he said, “I was a human once, until I was judged and separated from God, and because I was considered unworthy, I was sent to be in the place of living things, and I am to be around them to teach them about God, and how to become more like God, and live a godly life. And I am to help them find their way back home, back to God. And when they die, they are not supposed to become dead, so that there is no fear of death. They are supposed to be pure and innocent, so that they can face God without fear of condemnation.”

The triceratops became concerned, and he said, “I am a triceratops, and I am innocent and pure, and I have never lived among sheep.” He gave it more thought. “I can understand being around sheep, but living among them? I am not innocent and pure like them, so I will be judged, condemned and sent to hell. How could they be pure and innocent if they are like me?”

And then he remembered what he knew about God, and he felt sorry for the people that they will judge and condemn, because they will have no one to help them when they die. And he thought about his friend, who died young, and who was, like him, judged and condemned and sent to hell. And he thought about his loved one, who can’t read nor write, who is stuck with animals, because no one has ever shown her that she is important to God. And he remembered the times that he would try to tell his friend William Griffin what he was told to teach, and how Lorenzo himself never understood a single thing that he was told to teach. And he realized that no matter what, he had a choice, and that this would never happen again.

“I will choose to love God. I will choose to live among sheep. I will choose to be in the place of living things. And I will choose to help them know God and to live a godly life, and if I fail and I go to hell, I have no problem with that, because I have chosen to love God and live among sheep. And because of the choice I have made, I will never be sent to hell, and because of the choice I have made, I will know eternal life, because I have chosen to love God, and to live among sheep. And because of the choice I have made, I am no longer the same person I was when I started.”

The triceratops started walking away from the group of sheep, and he told himself that he would choose to love God and live among sheep, and he would help them find their way back home, and he would make a place for himself where he would always be with the sheep. And he told himself that when he died, he would be purified, because he had chosen to love God, and he would be given the gift of being around sheep, and he would be purified, because he had chosen to live among sheep.

The group of sheep that had started walking with Triceratops followed him as he made his way back to the place where he and his friend, who had died, had stayed. And the place where he and his friend had stayed was back in the world of the living, the world of beauty and darkness, where there is light and dark, sunshine and shadow.

THE END

Odes to My Triceratops, Pt. 2 (Poetry)


Claire got a little lonely on the night of September 20th, 2007, when a letter written by her mother on a yellow post-it jumped out of her mailbox onto the lawn, causing Claire to run out of her house without her shoes on. As mentioned, the letter was from her mother, Mary, who had accidentally fallen down a well years ago. However, she was now standing in Claire’s lawn. The girl was the only person that could see her mother. Mary had planned for her daughter to die a slow, painful death. She shot a bullet into Claire’s heart, but the heart was already broken, which caused the bullet to break instead.

Nobody would help Claire, so she decided to get a rifle, a bow and arrows, and a dildo. She ended up having sex with her rifle, then killing a turtle she was hunting with her dildo, after she failed to kill a variety of small animals.

Claire never revealed that the yellow post-it said that her parents would try to join her in Hell. When she read that, she immediately ran back home to get her sledgehammer. She was greeted by her deceased father and mother, who were holding hands. Claire wanted to smash their heads together, but then William knocked on her door. He invited her to come along with the triceratops to a party at their home.

“Plan For a Renegade” by William Griffin

First things first, I wanna talk to you about
Things like war, motherhood, fatherhood, and fatherhood.
Anyway, there’s only a verse about my friend.
See, Lorenzo has a mission that his parents planned:
Gotta shoot a renegade deinonychus, he’s a chupacabra.
Hell’s Gate-a-ray, his parents are sending him down to hell.

“Okay, this is going to sound too crazy.
Hell’s Gate-a-ray, ole-yeter. Uh-unh.”
Lorenzo asks, “What was that, Gramps?”
“Shut up, you son-of-a-gun. Next, I’m tellin’ you the truth,
We’re gonna build a missile out of your heart, ’cause, um,
You, uh, you ain’t, uh, been an angel, but, you know,
You’ll repent and, uh, uh, don’t let the devil tempt you, boy.
An old fart like me, I know.”

“Strings and Gunpowder” by William Griffin

Grab your guitar!
Grab your gun!
Grab your life
And have fun!

Wake up at night and sing a song
Under your friend’s bedroom window.
Hey, Lorenzo! Lorenzo!
Plan to sleep all night long?
(“Shut up, asshole!”)

Yeah! It’s good to be back!
It’s good to be back!
La-la-la-lee
La-la-la-way,
Yay-eh!

Put your fingers on the strings,
Put a bullet in the chamber.
Boom boom boom!
Bang bang bang!
Hit ’em right in the heart!

“Prehistoric Punk” by William Griffin

Lorenzo is one ugly son-of-a-bitch.
His eyeballs are poison green.
With those claws, scales, and horns,
He’s like the truest form of punk.

Lorenzo the triceratops
Carries a tiny soul inside his skull.
That goddamn freak walks around
Like he could topple city blocks.

He’s got the guts of a machine gun,
And a portal to hell inside his throat.

Sing something, Lorenzo!

Rawr, rawr, ra-rawr!
Grr, grr, gr-grawr!
Rooo, rooo, ra-ra-roo!
Rawr, RAWR, RAAAAWR!

“Crap” by William Griffin

This crap is mine, and I am proud.
I’m gonna keep on singing, singing, singing.
I’m gonna keep on singing my crappy song,
And nobody can stop me.

It’s my own little song
That I’ve made myself,
And I’ll sing it any day
If I’m not getting beat up.

I’m gonna keep on singing, singing, singing.
I’m gonna keep on singing my crappy song.
I will sing forever and ever and ever,
Or until the day I die.

“Cruisin’ While Horny” by William Griffin

My friend Lorenzo is a triceratops
With a portal to hell inside his throat.
He would drive around for hours on end,
Trying to find some chicks.
Where did you get that car?
I don’t even have one.

What the hell are you doing, Lorenzo?
What the hell are you doing, Lorenzo?

Every day he’s doing this.
Dude, I’m worried about him.
This whole thing is getting out of hand.
When I told Lorenzo I was scared for him,
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “My bad.”

“Lorenzo 2.0” by William Griffin

Lorenzo the triceratops from space,
Born and raised in a cave.
His parents named him “the Obliterator,”
For that’s what he does best,
But they called him “Lorenzo” for short.

He’s not your average triceratops:
He doesn’t eat plants.
He eats the souls of the dead.

Lorenzo: update version 2.0.
New features include:
More soul-eating capacity.
Greater evil force.
Dark matter bazooka.
Enhanced chupacabras.
Fixes include:
Fixed flaming diarrhea bug.

Dating’s not his strong suit, though.
When Lorenzo dated that allosaurus,
He lost his mind and had to leave.
A relationship doomed from the start.

Lorenzo’s not afraid of anything.
When he heard the allosaurus was after him,
He said, “Bring that bitch over here!
I’ll smash her skull with a crowbar!”

“Father God” by William Griffin

My mom’s the sweetest flower,
But she married a prick.
Mom and stepdad drink together.
The whiskey flows through their veins
While they sing old songs
About suffering and death.

Father God
Looks down upon us.
His teeth are knives.
His heart is cold.
He kicks the poor,
And breaks the sick.
His feet stink,
So does his dick.

Fuck that big asshole up in the sky
Who wants us to love our father,
My dead dad’s replacement,
Who’s so generous with his fists.

Are you proud of what you’ve done?

“Cancer and Virgins” by William Griffin

Our souls are connected
To our bones and our flesh,
But to me Claire could only exist
On the surface.

Lorenzo is half metal
And half stone.
He’s like a newly launched gunship.
On the inside we’re alike:
Cancer and virgins.

But because he is a killer,
Lorenzo is a strange boy.

My sister has an iron fist,
And keeps screaming in envy.
We’re more the same than we are different.

I hate to touch a hand that’s metallic,
She hates to kiss a mouth that’s metal.
But deep down we’re the same:
We are born to murder.

“The Hair on Her Arms” by William Griffin

Claire, I love the way you cry,
And the tears that fill your eyes.

Every time you get close to me, I feel warm.
I dream about the hair on your arms.

You two are my best friends:
Lorenzo and Claire,
A triceratops and a blind girl.
My inspiration for most songs I write.

In these mountains, everything is cold.
What was left behind has turned to dust.
I find myself walking around town in the dark,
Just to know that I’m alive.

* * *

Although the relationship between the trio of friends was becoming strained, Claire and William grew closer to the extent that he eagerly transcribed the poems to which she gave birth.

* * *

“To Old America” by Claire Javernick

This boy can keep me up to date
And help me fix what’s wrong.
I’ll take him to old America.
He’ll show me the way.

This boy can keep me up to date.
His face speaks of new understanding,
And it’s my spirit that he surrounds.
I think I could live in his love.

“Supernova Snack” by William Griffin

If I got hungry in the forest, Claire,
Would ya give me some of your blood?
If I fell in the river and got drenched,
Would ya lick me dry?

You’ve got an ass that could put out the flames
Of a raging forest fire.
(By which I mean your ass is very nice.)

Claire, you’re a fucking snack!
Everything you say makes me hard.
What should I do, girl?
Should I stick my nose in your arm, or what?

The only thing better than dying in battle
Is to get blown up by a meteor,
Or eaten by a carnosaur,
Then get fucked by you.

Claire, if you’re hungry,
Eat my eyes.
If you’re cold,
Light my bones on fire.

The stars will go out,
The planets break apart,
But for now, I’ll be feasting
On my supernova snack.

“Marmalade Sun” by William Griffin

A bird is building a nest in my mind.
Butterflies flutter around in my mouth.
There’s something living in my nose.

(You know those bioluminescent creatures that live in the black depths?
That’s what I have swimming in my guts.)

You and I, my ginger beam,
We were born from dinosaur blood
And that marmalade sun.

My head is round and rounder.
I don’t eat, I live on laughter.
No matter what, we’re going to die,
So we might as well enjoy the ride.

“Eyes Closed” by William Griffin

I’ll never forget the first time we met,
‘Cause something in your eyes
Made me want to try to touch your soul.
It’s such a shame how your eyes are always closed.

There’s a place that’s hidden deep inside your soul,
And if you knew the way to find it,
We could be lost in love forever.

When we find that, then we’ll find what’s within,
And everything that we’re searching for
Will come true like the stars in the sky
And the places on the ground.

“Lorenzo, No” by William Griffin

Lorenzo, no.
I could tell you so many things,
But you’re never gonna hear them.

So go back to your cave
And think on life,
And you’ll find it’s so much better
Than what you think.

“Monster With a Hellmouth” by William Griffin

My friend doesn’t just have a hellmouth:
He also has a monster head
Made of chromium steel.

Whenever Lorenzo sings a song,
He sounds terrifying and murderous.
His hellmouth gushes dark smoke
While all sorts of horrors pour out.
(This does happen a lot.)
He’s a monster with a hellmouth;
I don’t know what to tell you.

Lorenzo ain’t afraid of ghosts or leprechauns.
If you run into him in a dark forest,
He’ll impale you on his horns,
And make a wish with your bones.

He’s also very well endowed:
It looks like a bazooka.
His seed comes out of his mouth
While his bazooka throbs.
(I’m not sure what nature intended
With that reproductive system.)

When I close my eyes, I still see it.

“Hold in There, Lorenzo” by William Griffin

Tumble through the cracks of this shithole town.
A boy and his fucking dinosaur.
You wear your horns like crowns
While I just wear my skin.

I see myself in you tonight, Lorenzo.
You’re out in the sun’s fucking bright light.
Drinking time (fuck yeah).
You’re headed for the bottom.

You’re out there eating your dick.
You’re full of shit,
All fucked-up inside.
Your gonads hold the world in place.
You know we’re all going to die.

“Don’t Wanna Be the One” by William Griffin

Just look at how you’ve changed.
You don’t even look like yourself any more.
Clothes are hanging on you,
Your hair is a mess.
It looks like something’s wrong with you.

Lorenzo.

I don’t wanna be the one
To tell you the truth,
But I think that I should be the one
To tell you the truth.
I don’t like the way you’re acting.
Oh Lord, please help me.
So it’s true what they say.

I love you, and I know you care for me.
Just tell me why you always treat me bad.
I can’t stand you any more,
And I really don’t think that it’s fair.

I don’t like the way you’re acting.
Oh Lord, please help me.
So it’s true what they say.

I don’t wanna be the one
To tell you the truth,
But I think that I should be the one
To tell you the truth.

“Odd Paradox” by William Griffin

We’re losing control.
Somehow I have to make it stop.
As far as I’m concerned,
I’ve got myself a stinker.

I’m obsessed,
And nothing I do
Seems to please him.
He feels that I hate him,
And he’s right, so
Could I really blame him?

It’s an odd paradox.
The world’s a funny place.
I guess he’d prefer
If I was killed
Right here and now.

That seems to me
Extremely ungrateful,
But that’s just the way it is.

“The Same as It Is Now” by William Griffin

Don’t shut the portal to hell,
Don’t close the portal to hell.

Don’t be afraid of what I tell you,
Or you’ll end up down that well.
It will be dark and it will be cold,
And it will be you.

No! It’ll be the same as it is now,
Except with a lot of kids singing songs
About things that go boom.

“Into Hell and Out Again” by William Griffin

You, my friend, will disappear into hell,
So throw away your cigarettes,
Your scarlet lady and your tin box,
‘Cause you have a better life ahead.

It’s just the world we live in:
There’s no one to lead us.
The highway’s packed with assholes,
All of them worse than the last.

Forget the girls who betrayed you,
Every lie that brought you pain.
We should sit back and laugh,
For this life will go away.

You, my friend, will have to cross this stream,
Wading in the water with your arms wide open,
Feeling for each stone with your toes.

Throw away your scarlet lady,
And your cigarettes too.
This fucking world’s a garbage dump,
But not your heart, for that is home.

“Afraid of His Dick” by Claire Javernick

Dude, dude,
Try not fuck with him, ’cause he’s a goddamned
Mammoth triceratops
With a portal to hell inside his throat,
And a dick like a spear.

He won’t let you go, and he will follow you
All the way to the end of your life,
But in the meantime he won’t let you die,
‘Cause he knows a lot of stuff about science.

He wears a shell with a god inside.
I swear, he won’t let me die.
He wants to kiss my vagina,
But he hates the taste of petroleum.
When he bites me,
He comes off as murderous,
But I can never alert the authorities,
‘Cause I can’t read nor write,
And that’s just embarrassing.

Dude, can I tell you something?
If I were to kill him,
You could write about the slaughter,
And then we could kiss,
And drink some wine
And eat some tacos
And watch a movie.

“Cretaceous Razor” by Claire Javernick

Somewhere at the end of the black and blue,
A yellow rose falls from the sky.
Lorenzo’s throat is stuffed with joy and hope.
His heart is a lighthouse in the dark.
His love is a fast-flowing fountain of thought.

It’s a hell of a way to live and love,
It’s the difference between life and death,
To know the feeling of a dino’s claws.
He’ll shred you to the size of a cactus.

Some may find the signs of wisdom.
Lorenzo can’t understand anything from them,
But his warm and kind stories
May make you love life more than death.

A razor from the Cretaceous that cuts the sun.
He’ll make your hat more than seven feet tall.
The curve of his horns is erotic.
He’s an angel in the blackest of hells.

“Girl With a Limp” by William Griffin

Lorenzo’s a dinosaur with a triceratops brain.
If you know his liver, then you know his scrotum.
If you don’t know his liver, then you know his scrotum.
Those balls are hard to miss.

If you asked him where he got his good looks,
He’d say, “A vat of acid.”
If you asked him how to get his abs,
He’d say, “Stick a saw blade in your guts.”
If you asked him where he lives,
He’d say, “Under your bed.”
If you asked him how to find true love,
He’d say, “Open the gates of hell!”

If you asked Lorenzo where he was going,
He’d look at you like you had three heads.
If you told him where he was going,
He’d call you a liar.

Lorenzo would get drunk and fuck my girl.
He kicked her while having sex.

She’s a charming sixteen
Going on twenty-four.
Her eyes are milk,
And she walks with a limp.

“No Entiendo” by William Griffin

His name’s Lorenzo. I think it sounds like a brand.
I was just a kid when I first heard the wailing
That howls out from the depths of his throat.

Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay.
Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay.

No entiendo!
Hey, no entiendo.
Yo no entiendo.

Lorenzo takes me by the arm.
“Se llama amor, pero no lo entenderías.”
He runs toward our school with a bomb
That blows up the town and my home.

Necesito una sombrilla.
Hoy es luna de sangre!

“Love Thy Tyrannosaurus” by William Griffin

Tyrannosaurus Rex,
Tyrant lizard king.
He runs with his brothers and sisters
Through the thick jungle brush.
He was born under the shadow
Of a thousand lightning bolts.

Love thy tyrannosaurus,
But keep thy distance:
He will kill thee,
And eat thy guts.

He’s just a vicious dude
In a giant reptile suit,
And we’re one and the same.

“When the Fence is Gone” by William Griffin

The actual lady, Claire,
Is in love with the beast.
She’s trapped in his throat,
Bound by a curse.

We’re the sheep that go out to pasture,
The livestock in a fenced field.
You’re the shepherd of a foolish flock,
Feeding on our blood and souls.

I wish I could pretend
That you never existed,
But now I will pretend
That I care for you.
The day will come
When the fence is gone,
And you will be the one
Left all alone.

Beast of the old ways.

“Hell Is This Way” by William Griffin

Oh Lorenzo, what can I say?
I never liked you when we were kids.
You have a face that’s a million years old.

The portal to hell has swung open.

I am Triceratops, and my wife is Spartacus.
Handsome or ugly, what does it matter?
My wife gives her life away for Triceratops.

Hell is this way.
Hell is this way.
Hell is this way, triceratops.

A world far below this one,
Where darkness never ends.

Your blood’s the best of wines.

“Bitter Bites” by William Griffin

And after all the lies he told,
The rocks he threw at me,
That dino got what he deserved.

I saw tears in his eyes.

He will never betray me again,
That bloody demon.

To satisfy a weird urge,
I cut up some of his flesh,
And ate it.
How sick is that.

“The Devil Inside My Throat” by William Griffin

I met this girl who wouldn’t give a fuck.
One day she led me to her bedroom.
Today I couldn’t look her in the eyes,
Even though she’s only ever seen black.

Her scent is a morning in early fall,
And her voice soft and pleasant,
Like a mother who wouldn’t abandon you,
Or a father who would never hurt you.

It’s all gone.

The devil lives inside my throat.
I hear his chortling every night.
Sometimes he burns my clothes.
He also pees on my bed.

Name’s Lorenzo. I’m a triceratops.
I have a portal inside my throat.
When I open it, smoke comes out
From the bowels of hell.

I see the darkness within me.
I’ve always known it was there.

Odes to My Triceratops, Pt. 1 (Poetry)


As the boy’s loved ones feared, on April 8, 2009 the Santa Cruz County Coroner ruled the 17-year-old’s death a suicide. His name, William Griffin, didn’t mean anything yet to the public at large.

On April 16, 2009, at the funeral in Watsonville, William Griffin’s parents Lisa and Ken welcomed two strange new visitors to their family’s life: the creator of Sonic the Hedgehog along with his wife Angela. Many have seen this as a sign of fate, but the Griffins did not. And a few days later, on April 21, 2009, William’s mother Lisa was brutally murdered.

William Griffin lived in a rough inner-city suburb in Grand Rapids, MI. When he was ten he got accidentally sucked into a TV during the sitcom called ‘Garfield’. The episode in question featured a new character, the triceratops named Lorenzo (triceratops being a large, sharp-toothed, three-horned dinosaur). William therefore met not only the major characters of the ‘Garfield’ series, but also the aforementioned triceratops named Lorenzo, who would end up exiting the TV along with the boy and being welcomed into his family. Out of respect for William Griffin’s passing, the episode where Lorenzo the triceratops was introduced didn’t air until about a year after William died.

The surviving family wished to leave behind painful memories, but as they hurried to move, they discovered William’s treasure trove of poems and cassette tapes. William’s step-father Ken made them available to the public. It didn’t take long for the lives of not only Will, but also his neighbor Claire Javernick and William’s best friend, the triceratops named Lorenzo, to come into focus as they were featured in documentaries.

The following texts were composed by a fourteen years old William, some as lyrics for his songs, others as simple poems, or both.

“Lorenzo” by William Griffin

He has a small black mouth
Like a bottom.
His skin is brown
Like a beet.
His horns are round
Like a pepperoni pizza.

He’s just twelve.
He’s just eleven.
He’s just my best friend,
My favorite friend.
He’s just twelve.
He’s just eleven.
But he’s also twelve.

His horns are round
Like a pepperoni pizza,
And they grow in the middle,
And they’re as big as cans.
They’re aching for a fight.

Fuck yeah!

“Lemonade and Willies” by William Griffin

Gather ’round and hear my tale
Of horns, scales, and a tail.
My best pal, he’s a damn dinosaur:
A trike, a tricera-you-know.

Lorenzo is so proud and tall.
He walked by me at the school gate.
He pointed at me and said,
“I am a triceratops. I am so cool!”

A ponopodon is what he found inside his throat.
He swallowed it and out came light.
He gave me another ponopodon and said, “Have a bite!”,
But the ponopodon was horrible,
And it bit me,
And gave me the willies.

“Tricera Troubadour” by William Griffin

Hey, how did that tune go?
Oh, yeah…

Doo doo doo doo,
Doo doo doo,
Do dodo, dododo, dododododo,
Doododo,
Duh, duh, duh

I walk behind Lorenzo in the library,
Where he devours dinosaur books
By chewing them up.
“Come here and have a snack!”

Lorenzo has six letters in his name.
He uses Google to translate Chinese,
And sings every song to the tune of…

Doo doo doo doo,
Doo doo doo,
Do dodo, dododo, dododododo,
Doododo,
Duh, duh, duh (rrrOOOOAAARRrr!)

Tri-tri-tricera-troubadour,
Tri-tri-tricera-too,
(duh, duh, duh)
Tri-tri-troubadour.

“If I find one penny on the floor
And my best pal finds two,
I can share it with him
And we’ll have four!”

“Lorenzo, that’s not how math works!”

“Playground of the Prehistoric” by William Griffin

Remember the Stegosaurus, with those plates and spikes?
Can’t forget the velociraptor.
What about the Brachiosaurus? Imagine how tall it was.
Oh, and the mighty T-rex.
They’re still out there, somewhere.

Lorenzo eats clams and lobsters,
Crocodiles and lions.
He’s eating me to bits.
He’s eating me.

We’ll all slide
down his throat
Into the portal
to hell.

Swing, swing, swing away!
Don’t give a damn what other people say!

Swing, swing, swing away!
(In a playground of the prehistoric)
Don’t give a damn what other people say!
(Out there somewhere)
Swing, swing, swing away!
(Dinosaurs still live)
Don’t give a damn what other people say!
(And play hide-and-seek)

“Dinosaur Carnival” by William Griffin

A dinosaur carnival
Is coming to town!
Who is excited?
I am excited!

The merry-go-round spins
On the backs of ankylosauri.
The roller coaster cars are draped
Upon the necks of brontosauri.
There will be duck-hunting booths,
But I don’t think they use rubber targets.
I hear there’ll be an ice cream stand
Serving frogs and slugs.

Lorenzo is the star attraction,
With his tail, horns and scales,
And the portal to hell inside his throat
Which makes his voice extra loud.

The show’s over.
The carnival is done.
But the dinosaurs remain,
And they are ravenous.

“Claire” by William Griffin

In front of my house
There’s a girl
Who can’t see
What I do.
Her hair is fire.
Her eyes are milk.
She’s as blind as the world.

I bet
She would have liked
To see
The stars.

“Tricera Girl” by William Griffin

Hey, Tricera girl!
You don’t seem mean.
What’s your name?
What’s your age?
How come you exist?

Is that a smile?

That’s a nice tail.
That’s a nice ass.
And that’s the nicest head
In all the land.

My, my, my.
Oh, my Tricera girl,
Where have you been?
My Tricera girl,
How about we go together
To the bakery?

I will help you be happy,
I will help you be brave,
I will help you enjoy
Everything you have.

Tricera-trip, tricera-trops,
Tricera-tricks, tricera-triple flips,
Tricera-tope, tricera-topade,
Come dance with me!

Where have
You been
All my
Life?

“Better Dead Than Blind” by William Griffin

My friend’s name is Lorenzo.
He’s a three-headed triceratops
With a portal to hell inside his throat.

When I’d sit around and play,
I’d play my guitar,
And he’d come over and sit down by me
To hear me sing a song.

My neighbor she is a blind girl,
And she can’t read nor write.
We are just like friends.
We’d sit on her front porch and talk.

While I sat on her front porch and talked,
She said her name was Claire,
And she said her daddy and mommy died,
And she said she’d rather be dead than blind.
Then she went into her house.

I said, what was that?
Then she came out and asked me
If I’d like to go home with her.
I said, what the hell?
I said, what was that?
She said her daddy and mommy died.
She went in and closed her door.

I said, what the hell?
I said, what was that?
She said her daddy and mommy died.
She went in and closed her door,
Closed her door.

“I’m Cactus” by William Griffin

My cactus is fed the fuck up
‘Cause it hasn’t had water all week.
Its body is covered with spines,
So I ain’t gonna go near it
And get my hands stuck full o’ pins.

If I were the official supervisor of this plant,
I’d have to resign.

My cactus is green with yellow stripes,
The same color as the planet Saturn,
But the planet Saturn
Ain’t got no spines.

My cactus doesn’t like to complain,
So it keeps its mouth shut tight.
I’m a prick, a prick, a prickly prick,
For not watering that thing.

I got my hand stuck in the cactus again.
Ow, damn it! It hurts so bad!

Ow! Ow! Ow!
Ow! Damn! Fuck!
AAAAWWWW!
I’m bleeding!

“Who Even Knows What Girls Want?” by William Griffin

Who even knows what girls like?
I’m a tricera-dude.
Lorenzo, you’re a dude too.
So I guess we’ll never know.

Who even knows what girls like?
Maybe they like trains or trucks.
Maybe they like rocks.
Maybe they like dirt.
I have a hole in my jeans.
Maybe Claire likes holes.

I asked Lorenzo, “Let’s pretend you’re a girl.”
Lorenzo said, “Hell no.”
I asked, “Why not?”
Lorenzo roared loudly in my ear.
That hurt.

At dinner, I slipped into a nightmare
Where the steak was screaming,
“Who even knows what girls like?!”

Ooh-wee, ooh-wee, la-la-la-lee
Ooh-wee, ooh-wee

Claire, do you like stuffed animals?
“I like stuffed animals. They’re cute.”
Do you like flowers?
“Yes, they remind me there’s beauty in the world.”
Do you like dirt?
“Uh… I don’t.”

Alright then.

“Claire With a C” by William Griffin

Me and my friend Lorenzo left on a motorbike
Toward the woods of the North.
We lived in a house
Filled with all the old books.

Claire (Claire with a C) lives next door.
Lorenzo (who’s a triceratops) with his green eyes,
Purple skin and parrot-red hair.
I’m William, fourteen years old.
I can read and write, I’m terrified of my sister
(We have the same mother, our father is deceased).

Claire (with a C) she can’t read and she can’t write.
I don’t think she knows how to shave.
Lorenzo (who’s a triceratops) takes care of our parents.
Claire (Claire with a C) never comes to our house.
She eats everything in her mama’s pantry.

Lorenzo (who’s a triceratops) drinks blood to eat.
We watch Stephen King movies every Saturday
On our projector screen.

Claire reads scary stories to me,
Or she’s making them up because she can’t read.
I found out Claire is a vampire.
I couldn’t care less.

“Part Goldfish” by William Griffin

She must’ve been part goldfish and part salt lick,
Because she could swallow letters and numbers.
My friends told me they had seen her pet goldfish grow
Just six inches long. It could read and write.
She carried a paperback to school in her backpack.
The letters and numbers had traveled through her mouth.

Other kids wondered why she couldn’t read and write,
Even though her eyes were clearly dead.

She would just say that’s alright to all of her friends,
‘Cause I can read and write. That’s my only friend.

Claire is gone and I miss my beloved friend,
Because she has her eyes open just for me.

“Let Me Eat Your Stuff” by William Griffin

Claire, so beautiful,
With such a sweet smile,
Even at 14.
She’s in love with me.
We spend every minute
Like lovers do.
She takes me to a place
Where no one can see us.

I saw her first!
It was last Thursday
In my backyard,
When I was doing chores,
And I saw my friend Claire,
For she was standing there.
She was so beautiful.
Such a beautiful smile,
And I just couldn’t resist.

She made me this toast
With strawberry jam and butter,
And made me some cookies too,
The sweetest I’ve ever had.

I ate all of her food,
Even her share.
I watched as her eyes
Lit up like a candle.

“Fairy Tale Too Real to Be” by William Griffin

Claire is Claire is Claire.
She walks and talks and wears a dress.
Claire’s a fourteen years old
Fairy tale too real to be.

Lorenzo is Lorenzo is Lorenzo,
With a portal to hell inside his throat.
Lorenzo is the Devil’s spawn,
Is the beast that does not eat.

It’s hard to describe Lorenzo.
What a stunning day that was,
The day Lorenzo came to us,
Came to us from God above.

Lorenzo is sweet and sappy,
Has a voice that chimes like the bells.
Lorenzo’s tongue is sweet like honey.
Lorenzo lives on old tobacco leaves.

“Eat Your Friends” by William Griffin

Those dinos from the ancient past,
They’re extinct
They’re dead.

Long gone, oh, oh, oh.
Oh, oh, oh, oh.

How much would it hurt
If both of them left me behind?
Lorenzo could fall into a tar pit,
Claire end up frozen in ice.

Eat your friends, don’t you wait.
Chew through the skin,
Chew through the hair.
Don’t let the chance escape.

Hold onto your friends
With teeth and nails.

“I Am Your Stegosaur” by William Griffin

I am a stegosaur and so is you.
A piece of me in every creature,
Like you and him and all the people.
We all have a heartbeat
And a soul inside.

We like you, Claire.
And since we’re here we may as well be glad
And say a prayer, for just because you’re blind,
You don’t have to be stuck in a place
Where there’s nothing to see.

There’s lots of beautiful things in the world,
Lots of beautiful people.
You’re one of them.

When the sun comes out,
The grass shakes off its dander.
When it rains, the clouds roll in and out.
The mountains and the rivers,
The sky and the earth,
The stars and the planets,
One big beautiful living organism.

Beauty never dies.
We will never see each other die.

The color’s gone from your eyes,
But not from your heart.

“For Claire, Who Can’t Read” by William Griffin

You know, you’re the special one,
The one who took a gander.
You’re a girl that’s cute,
And you’re the love of my life.

She’s just fourteen years old,
And the words we write together,
That I write I mean,
Because she can’t read,
Are nothing but lies.

She’s seen the future,
And the past is past.
I said to her, “Don’t forget your roots,”
Because I learned you gotta grow.
So you ain’t no bigger than a matchstick,
But you still got your roots.

A girl, she’s got a good heart.
She’s just fourteen years old,
And the words we write together,
That I write I mean,
Because she can’t read,
Are nothing but lies.

You know you’re the special one,
The one who took a gander.
You’re a girl that’s cute,
And you’re the love of my life.

She’s just fourteen years old,
And the words we write together,
That I write I mean,
Because she can’t read,
Are nothing but lies.

And we only make each other up.
Never gonna be the truth.
So you know that you’re the special one,
The one who took a gander,
You’re the love of my life.

“Ceratopsy” by William Griffin

Ceratopsy, ceratopsy.
(Horns, horns!)
Claire, Claire.
(She’s got horns!)

I love my little Ceratopsian.
Time for a ceratopsy!

In my heart, I want to eat her.
I will eat her hands, her feet,
Her ears, her hair, her skin,
And those boobs like little moons.

I will swallow her
And keep her
Forever safe
Inside me.

Yeah, uh, um, okay, so, I’m a boy,
And I like you, and you’re a, um…
You have, er, eyes, and you’re blind,
Uh, and, um, and Lorenzo’s a dinosaur,
And y’know, um, you’re very pretty…

Ceratopsis spreads inside me,
Eating me, eating me, eating me.

“Ponopodon Blues” by William Griffin

Lorenzo can light cigarettes
With the fire from his throat.
He went through every stage in hell.
The devil became his buddy and said,
“You have suffered enough.”
Then returned Lorenzo to Earth
With ponopodons in his throat.

Alarm (alarm)
Callers (callers)

What the fuck am I even doing.
As if these songs of mine
Would ever go anywhere,
No matter how hard I try.
Get on a stage in that outside world?
I don’t even want to know what’s out there!

I’ve got the Ponopodon Blues.
I’ve got the Ponopodon Blues (what can I do?).
Oh baby, I’ve got the Ponopodon Blues,
For loving too hard.
There’s also a nasty ponopodon stench
Coming from my pants.

I don’t give a fuck, no sirree!
Can’t give a fuck anymore.

Just let the shit pour out.
Give me a bucket.

“No Magic Potion” by William Griffin

Triceratops, I love you more than anything
(But I’m the only one who sees your white behind).
All the girls adore you,
And they want to touch you.

Claire, if you want to, you can have me,
For I’m not ashamed.
I hope you’re not ashamed.

Triceratops, there’s no magic potion
To chase off
Those lonely feelings.

Claire, there’s no such thing as eternal bliss
Or a hell of aces,
Only eternal regrets.

“Wait About a Month for Love” by William Griffin

It’s not like my heart has ever been full,
In all my life,
Until I met your two eyes.
It’s a matter of fact that I’d like to have you,
And that I’d take any length of time,
I’d take it all if it means,
I can lay my head on your breasts.

But what would I think, if you should tell me
That you’d prefer if I didn’t come at all.
Can I tell you how scared I was, how scared I’ve been,
Every time I thought about you.
My step-father told me don’t play around,
Go for what’s worth having.
He said when a man has a real woman,
He’s got to wait a while.
He said it was about a month.

I asked my step-father, what do I owe to you.
He said the man who says I ought to settle for I love you
Is the man who can’t make me quit.
I asked my step-father, what am I missing.
He said, there is a place where the most evil men are,
And they just laugh at us down here on earth.

And what’s going on in heaven, I don’t know.

“Helpless and Pure” by William Griffin

Claire’s a girl so helpless.
Claire is blind.
Claire’s a girl so pure.
Claire is blind.

This love won’t end in pain.

“Please, Play With My Guitar” by William Griffin

Claire’s really a sweetheart,
As pretty as a picture.
She just doesn’t wanna get wet,
But wait and see.

She’s a human,
But what’s behind
That painted
Fake face.

If Claire had eyes,
She would look into mine.
I’d let her see.

I’ll teach her to read and write,
I’ll teach her how to play,
With my guitar.

This is from William’s diary:

So I look at Lorenzo and I’m just mad ’cause he’s gross. All I know is that he has the Mark of the Beast inside his throat. When he laughs it’s rancid and crumbly and when he cries it’s just creepy. Lorenzo’s ugly and he makes me afraid. When he’s with me, he uses his fist as a piano. I try to pretend that I don’t care when he stares at me like that. Deep down inside, I wish that he would leave me alone, but every day when I look up, he’s there. Lorenzo is worse than a dog, because he can think as well as show his affection. Now he leaves pictures on my pillow every morning.

“The Burning Heart Inside Your Throat” by William Griffin

We’d go underground in a coffin,
Dressed all in black.
We would hug and kiss the stars
With our heads in a casket,
And in her worst dreams
We would dance in the dark.

Lorenzo wears a Jesus apron.
Claire’s belly button is her heart.
Now he’s missing his eye.
My fault.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah.
Ah ah ah ah ah ah.
Ah ah ah ah ah ah.
Ah ah ah ah ah ah.

I’m shaking off the free rays of dying stars.
I am trembling at the breath
Of the burning heart
That’s inside your throat.

Like time, like the cosmos,
This eternity with a physical body
Will one day become a tear
In the eyes of the deepest heart.

I know you’re in my head,
I know you are alive.
I’m shaking off the free rays of dying stars.
I am trembling at the breath
Of the burning heart
That’s inside your throat.

Oh aah, hey aah aah.
Hey aah, aah, aah, hey aah.
Oh aah, hey aah aah.
Hey aah, aah, aah, hey aah.

We’d go underground in a coffin,
Dressed all in black.
We would hug and kiss the stars
With our heads in a casket,
And in her worst dreams
We would dance in the dark.

Oh.

I know you’re in my head.
I know you are alive.
I’m shaking off the free rays of dying stars.
I am trembling at the breath
Of the burning heart
That’s inside your throat.

Final cover for my latest novel “My Own Desert Places”

The contest for the cover of my latest novel, “My Own Desert Places”, has finished, and only one nailed for me its odd tone, a mix of dark comedy, drama and supernatural.

My-Own-Desert-Places-APPLE-IBOOKS-FINAL-copy

Now that I don’t have to worry about the cover any longer, I will continue with my first full-length revision of the novel, which is close to the size of 2,2 novels. Revising texts you haven’t read in a while is a good way to get reminded of how stupid you are, because I average around 70 notes to change stuff by chapter. I also found three places so far in which I will need to add further details from zero. Revising the novel until I’m happy will likely take me a couple of weeks. Then I’ll have to figure out how one self-publishes stuff to Amazon and the likes these days, and whether I’ll need to market it somehow. What a bother.

My mood has only worsened since I stopped writing frantically every day, so I’ll also need to deal with that shit.

Ongoing contest for the cover art of “My Own Desert Places”

I’m already in the process of revising the e-book version of my recently finished novel “My Own Desert Places”, which will remain online.

I have started the contest for talented designers to figure out what cover would be appropriate for this strange tale. You can folow the contest in the following link:

Contest for the cover art of “My Own Desert Places”

Post-mortem for “My Own Desert Places”

I have finally finished my favorite story of all I have written. It took nearly 179,000 words, which I have written frantically in slightly more than a month. If one considers the average length of a novel to be 80,000 words, this story ended up reaching the length of 2,2 novels.

The concept and the few associated notes for this one had been waiting in my archives since maybe 2013. I knew it was about a ghost who falls in love with a living woman and that possesses someone else’s fresh corpse to date her. Beyond that, I was sure of two things: the ending, which I have dreaded writing from the very first part, and that the protagonist’s new life was a mess he would need to navigate, due to how the previous owner had screwed it up.

During creative periods, I tend to come up with quite a few interesting concepts which I’m quick to write up and archive for whenever I end up using them. Sometimes my brain works in the background some more details about those stories. It just happened that most of the details that my subconscious came up with for the initial iteration of this story didn’t excite me. I pictured Asier’s life as being involved with some sort of drug ring, gambling, or some similar illegal enterprise. I believed that the story needed that kind of external pressure, because the protagonist would be focused on seducing slash deceiving the so called impact character, which in narrative terms is the character that changes the protagonist the most. However, I just wasn’t interested in figuring out how to pull off Asier’s previous life convincingly, and I had more pressing stuff to write.

However, after I finished writing my last short story, “A Poor Player”, I browsed through my notes to figure out which concept grabbed me enough this time. I figured that I could test the concept of “My Own Desert Places” for a single part and see if I enjoyed it enough. In that first part not only I fell in love with Irene’s personality, which was tremendously fun to act out, but I also thought of Asier’s particular sins which had ended up wrecking his life. I’m someone who has always had a terrible trouble connecting with others, so when I got to trust someone a little, the notion that they could betray me, and the fact that some did, ruined me significantly for future relationships. I loved the idea of Irene having to bear the burden of a behavior (serial cheating) that I despise, and it allowed to flesh out Irene’s behavior during her first life, mirroring Asier’s: the protagonist hadn’t been a cheater, because she technically never dated any of the girls she pursued, but she only cared about short-term pleasures, not thinking a bit about the long-term misery she caused not only to others but also herself. I have always avoided getting too attached to people, so performing this narrative could work out my personal issues, which is a significant part of why I have always needed to write.

In my original notes, the protagonist was a man. However, I have loved every single story involving body swaps (one of the last of those stories I’ve experienced being Shūzō Oshimi’s “Inside Mari”), so I wanted to contribute to that, and I think that the notion of a woman being in love with another woman but using a man’s body to seduce her, because that’s what the other woman is into, is inherently compelling. I knew very little about Irene when I wrote that first part in the last day of April 2021, but an inherent law of narrative is that most, or ideally all, of the symbols form a pattern that justifies why each of them is there. The symbols either complement each other or offer a distorted mirrored image of others. Usually the subconscious mind works this out in the background during the period when you are writing a full-length story, and you need to be alert and write those notes down. So Irene’s behavior could have been compared to Asier’s because that bastard needed to be a serial cheater, and Irene felt isolated and freakish and killed herself because she needed to connect with Alazne. Kateryna’s suicide was a case of mirroring: she trusted too much, was too good, but people fucked her over anyway. Ainhoa’s inability to accept whatever didn’t contribute to normality, and her implosion when she finds out ghosts are real, plays out differently in Alazne, who eagerly welcomes Kateryna’s ghost. There was also an unexpected mirroring in Kateryna’s brothers Oleksiy and Hadeon: the big brother was the tall, big one with anger issues, same as the protagonist, and Hadeon was the withdrawn person with troublesome fetishes and who loves anime, same as Alazne. I’m not sure what that means. In any case, there are tons of these symbols connected throughout the story, which I’m sure I will enjoy, or even fortify with further details, as I go through a full revision.

I write for fun, whether it involves silliness and acting out ridiculous scene concepts, or for the inherent fun of writing a compelling scene, even if it’s as depressing as they come. Because my brain doesn’t allow me to detach from my obsessions, for the time it takes me to write a full story I live vicariously through it. It feels as if I’ve constructed false memories. Related to that is the fact that Alazne’s demise has lodged a cold ache in my heart. I have always preferred imagined people to flesh and blood ones, after all, so I guess I fell in love with her along with the protagonist. Even before I wrote the first part of this story I knew how Alazne’s arc was going to end, but finally acting out those two scenes that encompass the climax of this story was one of the hardest creative endeavours I’ve gone through. Throughout this last month I tried to think of any other way it could end, but I never figured out any ending that felt more powerful and fitting.

This version of Alazne wasn’t my first iteration. After I self-published two books of novellas written in Spanish, my native language, I jumped into writing a far more complicated story that would end up having to be split into two books, not only because of the length but because its narrative allowed it. That story was about a guy who experiences hallucinations and who befriends a reclusive writer who is trying to write a novel which is barely more than fanfiction about someone she’s obsessed slash in love with. That reclusive writer was named Alazne, and was an Ukrainian refugee from Chernobyl who had been adopted by a childless local couple. There was plenty of stuff about her failing to connect with others, feeling permanently alienated, etc. Ironically, the person that Alazne was in love with was a woman. Anyway, the story was a novel within a novel, because the story that the co-protagonist was writing was also fleshed out. I ended up writing a whole first draft, a very loose one, of what should end up becoming the first book of two. Writing the second book would have required me succeeding even minimally with the two books I self-published (both for scenes involved in the narrative and because I couldn’t imagine this new story selling otherwise), but I sold close to nothing of those two books. In the end, after I finished the first draft of the last scene of that book, I realized that it hadn’t been fun. I had writen that book to work through some troubles of mine, but I wasn’t enjoying it, and I didn’t want to revise that whole novel and then handle the second one. I never reread any of those drafts.

That first iteration of Alazne was Ukrainian originally because I had that connection from high school. For a while I hung out with a guy who was blond and blue eyed, and although there are virtually none of those around in my province, I didn’t think much of it. It was strange that the guy preferred to hang out with outcasts and losers like me. One day we went to his house and it only took me glancing at his parents to realize that the guy had been adopted; his parents were tanned, dark-haired, dark-eyed, probably from the south of Spain. Then someone told me that the guy had been involved in the Chernobyl incident as a baby or a toddler, which matched his age, and that his biological parents either died or gave him up for adoption directly. I never figured out anything more about that background, not even if it was true, but it remained as a cool story for the purposes of me becoming creative with it.

Plenty of Alazne’s issues are or were mine, of course. Her musical tastes belong to me, and I also love to play the guitar. For example, during the writing of this story I became temporarily unemployed (although I’m going to be recalled for the summer), which meant I turned into a recluse except for the times that I went out to the woods to play the guitar. In my mid twenties I also was diagnosed with clinical depression, along with Asperger’s syndrome (now considered merely high-functioning autism), and for many of my earlier years I had a terrible time handling the depressive aspects. Irene’s demise, that of failing to connect with people, dropping out of college, having an abusive job (which was worse in real life) and then wanting to jump off a cliff, were mostly my background as well, except that I stepped back and went to the library.

What comes next is me going through the thirty five parts and fixing minor issues like punctuation. Then I’ll have to figure out how one puts together an epub file these days. Afterwards I’ll spend some time walking around with the digital version of my story to perform a major revision, which will likely involve adding a few descriptions here and there and strengthening symbols. When I consider that done, which might take me a couple of weeks, I’ll spend 150-200 euros to commission the cover art, and I’ll upload the digital book to Amazon and similar services. I have no fantasies that any traditional publisher would want to bother with this story, not to mention that I despise the process of selling it to people who don’t care.

I have no clue what I might write after this. Maybe I’ll try to generate a bunch of new concepts through freewriting (asking myself about my likes and dislikes, what I’m passionate about, what bothers me, what I hate, etc.). What I have always had clear is that I shouldn’t bother writing a story unless I find the concept compelling enough by itself, and even then I wouldn’t invest my energies in writing it unless the process is fun. I have started and abandoned quite a few stories because they sounded good in paper, but they simply didn’t work in practice.

In any case, if anyone is reading this and has read some of “My Own Desert Places”, I hope you got something out of it.

Roleplaying through “Re:Zero” with the GPT-3 story generator (Part 65)

This entry covers part of the eleventh volume of the original “Re:Zero” novels.

In the previous entry, the Witch of Pride wanted in on the tea party, and we got further proof that the protagonist focuses on trying to fuck almost everything that moves whenever he needs to escape from how much of a nightmare his life has become.


An obsidian black, closed iron maiden has appeared out of nowhere a bit further on the hillock. The mere sight of it conjures images of torture in dungeons, and dungeons are no longer an abstract concept for you. You have been through hell and came out alive. You repeat that to yourself as you stand up from the chair and approach the iron maiden cautiously. Even though you don’t dare touch it, it feels heavy and cold.

As you get so close that it would take lunging twice to touch the dark metal, the iron maiden’s doors open. A cold shiver makes you tremble before you register how the girl inside looks. It’s a teenager, or at least her emaciated, small body suggests it. She has raven-black, frizzy hair that comes down in two ponytails. She’s wearing a white straightjacket that reminds you of black and white photos of sanatoriums, and her body is held in place by chains attached to the back and sides of the iron maiden.

More importantly, though, the girl’s lips are bitten off. They are a bloody, glistening mess of raw flesh, as if this girl had chewed on them. No, had eaten them, her own lips. The impression you get is of an insane girl locked up in a dark room for years, who has no other recourse but to cannibalize herself.

You won’t look at this girl’s eyes. The fear has frozen you in place. You don’t want to remain in this death-dream any longer. Hell, you don’t want to exist in the same universe that contains someone like this.

“Ya wanned ‘o shee me”, the girl mumbles as blood drips out of her mouth. Half of her tongue is gone. “He’e I am.”

You swallow. Your legs are trembling. You want to run away, but that would disappoint Echidna. You have faced far worse than a cursed girl who has experienced nothing but a nightmare for her entire life, you tell yourself.

“I did… I did, Daphne. I wanted to know you personally.”

You are talking to a living, breathing being trapped in a situation that would break most people. Perhaps even yourself.

“You look sho good, Shubawu”, she mumbles with pure hunger in her voice. “I would like ‘o bi’e you sho much.”

Daphne is drooling heavily, and it drips from her chin in a mix of her sticky saliva and blood from her open wounds around her dyed teeth. Your stomach churns. You fear you might vomit at any moment. This is the most twisted, insane thing you have ever seen or heard. You don’t know what to do.

“You want to eat me, I’m guessing… Is that how it feels, Daphne? You even want to eat people?”

“I wanna ea’ evewyone, Shubawu”, she says, her voice the embodiment of a madwoman. “Evewyone. I wanna ea’ evewyone and evewy’hing.”

A surge of warmth reaches your eyes, and a tear runs down your cheek. You don’t know if it’s from pure fear or from the thought that anyone could live like this girl and yet fail to go completely insane. But you can’t help it. You pity her, even if she wants to eat you.

“Why a’e you cwying, Shubawu?” Daphne slurs.

Your throat is closing.

“Because the world is horrible”, you say with a trembling voice.

You expect Daphne to agree with you, but instead she laughs, a horrible mix of a chuckle and a wheeze.

“I’ ish fine ash long ash you go’ enough ‘o ea’, ishn’ i’?” Daphne stops laughing, and you feel her stare burning your face, as if she could see through your skin and bone and into your brain. “Sho you came ‘o me ‘caushe you wanna kill Gwea’ Wabbi’?”

You tighten your lips and swallow something hot that was bubbling up your esophagus.

“… That’s right. Those little guys of yours ate me. Although ‘ate’ doesn’t feel like a strong enough word for what they did…”

“‘hank you sho much for feeding my babiesh. Wash vewy nice of you.”

You want to argue, but it would be pointless. For this creature in front of you, satisfying her hunger means good, remaining hungry means bad. At least you understand both the White Whale and the Great Rabbit now.

“Daphne, could you tell me why you created those monsters of yours, the White Whale, the Great Rabbit…?”

You expect her to laugh again, or say something like ‘who knows?’, but she answers seriously.

“My babiesh we’e my gif’ ‘o da wowld.”

You frown, not understanding. You can’t glean much about her expression: because she ate her own lips, her drooling mouth displays her teeth as if she were grinning or snarling constantly. And just glancing at her features is making you dizzy.

“Was that sarcasm, Witch of Gluttony?”, you ask as firmly as you can when you risk vomiting, “Those babies of yours have done little else, it seems, than cause destruction and erase thousands of people from the world, whether by removing the memories of them or consuming them to the last drop of blood. Are you messing with me?”

She shakes her head.

“Nah ah-ah-ah. I wan’ed people ‘o feed on my babiesh. Whaley ish big and mea’y, and ‘here awe sho many of my bunniesh da’ people could fill ‘hem belliesh foweve’.”

You shiver. You can tell now that this deranged witch isn’t joking. In her twisted mind she had wished to bless the world, but because her all consuming hunger is never fully satisfied, she can’t think in terms of anything else. As a result she let loose two curses on the people of this world that were so unstoppable that the population of different nations had to handle her babies as natural disasters. Maybe you can make Daphne understand, maybe she could stop her monsters even from her spectral imprisonment.

You get closer to the iron maiden, but Daphne flinches. The flow of drool that drips from her chin, washing away the blood from her eaten lips, increases, and her saliva hangs in viscous threads. Suddenly the bottom sides of the iron maiden grows six paired metallic legs, and as soon as the tips touch the ground they lift the iron maiden and crawl away from you. The sight of those impossible legs stops you, and your head hurts for a moment as it struggles to handle its current reality.

“I would s’ay away if I we’e you, Shubawu”, the Witch of Gluttony mumbles, “You look vewy appe’izing.”

You are trembling from head to toe. You want to vomit, you want to lie on the floor and cry. But Echidna is watching, and you don’t want that goddess to take you for a weakling. You force yourself to stare at Daphne’s bloody teeth and the glistening, raw flesh that surrounds them.

“Your monsters haven’t been feeding people, they have been eating them! Do you understand what you have done? Both the White Whale and the Great Rabbit are curses upon this world!”

“Why, would you have my babiesh lie ‘here and le’ ‘hemshelves be ea’en ash if ‘hey we’e a cooked meal? If ‘he people of ‘hish wowld we’e craf’y enough, ‘hey would have been able ‘o hun’ down Whaley and ‘he bunniesh. My babiesh have ‘o fill ‘heir belliesh ‘oo.”

“This is madness! They need to die, and you need to…”

You stop yourself. You are standing so close to the iron maiden that it would take those metallic legs jumping forward for the Witch of Gluttony to reach you, and all you have are words. Are words enough?

“You call madnesh ‘he law of na’ure”, Daphne mumbles, “Evewyone ish in a rush ‘o ea’ shomeone elshe sho ‘hey can live ano’her day. Echidna figured ou’ you a’e fwom ano’her wowld. Ish i’ no’ ea’ o’ be ea’en ‘here ash well?”

You can’t argue with that, and can’t say anything at the moment either, because a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea forces you to hunch over and retch. You vomit what remains of Echidna’s tea, along with a good quantity of bile, splashing the grass. You feel covered in cold sweat. While you support yourself on your knees and wheeze, Daphne continues.

“Even plan’sh have ‘o ge’ ‘heir nu’ien’sh from shomewhewe, you know? And ‘hey feel pain when ‘hey ge’ ea’en, even ‘hough you can’ hear ‘hem shcream. You ei’her ea’ or you ge’ ea’en. I’sh ‘he main law of ‘he wowld. If you don’ ‘hink sho, shomeone elshe ish doing ‘he killing for you.”

You wipe the vomit from your mouth, and you manage to raise your head and look at Daphne with wide, teary eyes. You desperately wish for this witch to go away, but if she vanished now, you wouldn’t have learned anything of value. You straighten your back.

“Daphne, I need to kill the Great Rabbit. Not only I risk getting devoured myself, but everyone in Sanctuary is going to die as well. Your friend Echidna agrees that your monster needs to disappear from this world. If you truly created it for the benefit of mankind, in your twisted way, please give me advice on how to destroy it.”

Daphne laughs.

“I’sh ei’her an imbe’ishiwe lil’ crea’uwe ‘hat killsh wheneve’ it deshiwes and ish neve’ sha’ishfied, or ‘he Gwea’ Wabbi’ ish a friendly beash’ie who jush’ wan’ed a hug.”

You aren’t sure you understood everything she said, but you are getting mad anyway.

“I don’t have time for bullshit, Daphne. Just looking at the lower half of your face is going to give me nightmares for years. Please tell me whether you will give me advice on how to defeat the Great Rabbit. If you won’t, we are done here.”

Daphne grins, or at least the way the raw flesh around her teeth widens suggests it.

“I will ‘ell you, Shubawu! I like you vewy much. And no’ only becaushe I wanna fill my belly wi’ you! My bunniesh prefe’ shourcesh of magic, sho ‘hey will shniff ‘he mo’ powewful magiciansh awound and ‘wy ‘o ea’ ‘hem. Mo’ impor’anly, you need ‘o kill ‘he Gwea’ Wabbi’ a’ once, meaning all of i’sh individual bodiesh, or elshe i’ will quickly pwoduce new bunniesh.”

You wipe the sweat from your forehead. You had expected this witch to laugh at you and mumble for you to fuck off, but she helped you. The rabbits are attracted to the biggest sources of magic, and all of them need to be killed as close to immediately as possible. That’s enough information to send Daphne away, you think.

“Awen’ you gonna ea’ you’ vomi’?”, Daphne asks with an anxious voice. “You a’e wash’ing food!”

Before you even realize you are doing it, you step over the puke and stand closer to the iron maiden. The metallic legs twitch, but they don’t retreat.

“No, I won’t eat my vomit, Daphne”, you say with a hollow voice. “Let me tell you, I pity you. You have been cursed with one of the worst conditions I can imagine, but it’s been a long time since you were a child, and in your brain there must be a commanding center freed from your overwhelming impulses that understands that you have led to the death of countless people. So I can’t forgive you. I will use your advice and erase the Great Rabbit from this world.”

“Hwoe hwoe!”

You look into Daphne’s disgusting open mouth, and stare into the blackness of her throat.

“… Was that an attempt at mocking me?”

“Nobody hash managed ‘o kill my babiesh in hundredsh of yearsh, bu’ you believe you will be able ‘o, Shubawu?”

“Yes, I will kill your baby, Daphne”, you say with more force in your voice that you had managed since you first spoke to this disgusting witch. “None of the others who tried could try over and over, learning from their mistakes along the way. I will win.”

You are too dizzy and angry to realize that your gaze has slipped upwards and has met hers. The Witch of Gluttony’s eyes are a bright yellow that instead of feeling painted on the surface of her eyeballs, it deepens into them. You feel you are staring into a yellow horizon that has trapped your gaze, and you will need to struggle to pull it away.

“Bring i’ on ‘hen, Shubawu”, Daphne says with a menacing voice.

The crab-like legs that hold the iron maiden in the air coordinate themselves to carry the Witch of Gluttony further into the hillock, but you only notice her vanishing out of the corner of your eye. You are shaking. Your mouth is filling with saliva. It feels as if a black hole has opened in your stomach, and it’s sucking the walls in. You need to eat now or you will die. The world becomes a monochrome shadow, and nothing in it matters any longer but what you could shove into your mouth.

Your stomach keeps convulsing and the hole in the middle of your body keeps growing. You lick your lips and are overwhelmed by the need to eat, but there is no food around, only vomit. The smell is overpowering and your vision tunnels and you are shaking all over. Then your eyes flicker to what you threw up. The sight of your puke makes you salivate heavily. As you extend your shaky arms towards the liquid dripping down the grass, you stop and look at your hands. Those fingers, the thick flesh at the base of your thumb… You had never seen something so tasty. You sink your teeth into that succulent meat, chewing on it desperately, feeling the thick blood leaking down your chin. You swallow big pieces, then you move to biting chunks of meat off your fingers. The pain is worth it, the deliciousness…

“Subaru, look at me.”

You recognize Echidna’s voice. She is standing in front of her tea table and looking at you calmly. You swallow the tasty meat you were chewing, then focus on the witch. You had never noticed before, but that beautiful face of hers, those glistening black eyes… You need to fill yourself with her. You must grab the sides of Echidna’s head and bite off her nose, eat her cheeks, tear off her lips, suck on her eyeballs until they pop out of their sockets.

You take a step towards the Witch of Greed, but a thought manages to float over the tide of hunger: you don’t want to hurt Echidna. You are very close to falling in love with her. But you won’t be able to contain yourself for long.

“Stay away from me, Echidna!”, you shout with a trembling, pained voice. “That Daphne has given me her hunger! It’s way too much… I can’t think straight!”

Echidna doesn’t flinch. Instead she smiles, her eyes narrowing.

“And now you want to eat me as well.”

You hear the creaking of your bones, the growling of your stomach, the thundering of your pulse.

“Stay… Stay away from me…”

Echidna steps forward, then turns her palms towards you and moves them further apart as if welcoming you.

“Come closer, Subaru. I want to know what you will choose.”

“I… Echidna…”

You picture yourself ripping Echidna’s shoulder off and biting into the meat of her arm. You imagine chewing through her delicious skin, feeling her sweet blood on your tongue. You squeeze your eyes shut and grab your head.

“No!”, you shout through your clenched teeth. “Please, stay away from me! Most of my brain is demanding me to eat you… The parts of me that decide whether something is good or bad only want me to fill my stomach. I can’t barely keep it together. Please, Echidna, save yourself.”

When you open your eyes again and glance at the Witch of Greed, you see that she’s walking slowly towards you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you really do love me”, Echidna says softly.

You turn your face away from her, but she grabs your chin and forces you to look at her.

“If you want to devour me, go ahead.”

You shake your head frantically, trying to avoid her gaze. Your mouth is filled with warm saliva, and you need to keep it open or else you risk choking on the liquid. Your drool is dripping from your chin. Echidna can’t understand how much you wish to eat her alive. You should sate your hunger with something else, but even your own flesh can’t compete with how appetizing the pale witch looks. You want to lunge at her, grab her with as much strength as you can muster, and sink your teeth into her face. You imagine her screaming in agony, but you don’t let go. You bite through the soft, warm meat and crunch through the bone. You imagine yourself chewing and swallowing the delicious morsel. You wouldn’t stop until only her bones remained, stripped of meat.

“Eat me, my love. I’m all yours”, Echidna says while bending forward and offering her long, elegant neck to you. Her lips are pouted and moist, and her eyes are filled with anticipation and longing.

Your teeth tingle, and you can practically feel your mouth bursting with a near-uncontrollable hunger as the muscles in your jaw contract involuntarily. Your stomach rumbles. You feel dizzy and confused.
You turn your head and grit your teeth, then push Echidna away from you.

“I will not! I don’t want to hurt you, no matter how much my brain orders me to!”

Echidna steps closer and embraces you. You go limp in her hands as if the witch had taken over the control of your body. She leans over you while she narrows her glistening eyes, and wields a loving smile on her rosy lips.

“That’s so sweet”, she whispers. “It’s been so long since someone made me feel this way.”

As the Witch of Greed holds the back of your head, she opens her mouth, extends her tongue and lets a phlegm fall into your open mouth.

“Swallow, Subaru. Do it for me”, she says quietly.

You allow her slimy spit to slide down your throat while she smiles lovingly at you. As soon as you gulp her phlegm down, the hunger disappears. You are left with the memory of how it had overwhelmed your brain like a virus, taking over the specialized centers that handled different aspects of how to exist as a human being, only to manipulate them into convincing you of focusing on nothing else but sating your bottomless hunger.

You are still stunned when Echidna steps back while pulling you in so you stand on your own feet. You haven’t broken the embrace. Your hand doesn’t hurt either, so she must have healed it immediately as well. You stare into Echidna’s black eyes and those white, vertical pupils with awe, affection and trust like you don’t believe you have ever felt for another person. She has saved you twice from horrifying destinies. The Witch of Greed is as powerful as a god, and yet she helps you this much.

“Thank you”, you say as you recover your breath.

Echidna closes one eye to look at you coyly with her other. The closeness of your bodies is making her blush, a conspicuous redness on her snow white skin.

“Maybe I should have warned you more strongly about how bad of an idea looking into Daphne’s eyes would be, but we ended up learning something interesting, didn’t we? You have a knack for seducing witches…”

Your heart is beating so loud that you can’t hear yourself breathing heavily. You slide your hand under Echidna’s silky, white hair so you can cup the back of her head, and then you lean forward to kiss her mouth. The taste of her tongue reminds you of honey.

Echidna puts her hands on your shoulders to keep some space between you, but doesn’t push you away. She closes her eyes while you hold her as closely as you can. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and you feel faint. After several seconds, Echidna opens her eyes again, looking at you with a mixture of bashfulness and guilt, and her tongue leaves your mouth.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispers.

You tilt her head to kiss along her graceful neck. Echidna shivers in your arms.

“Yeah, we should. I don’t care if your witch friends witness it. We should stay here and make love over and over, forever.”

Echidna lets out a mischievous sigh, and she rubs your back with her hands.

“Ah… You will end up making me want to give up everything as well”, she whispers. “But we can’t. The death-dream won’t stay up eternally. In fact, it won’t last for much longer. And you have to make sure you can get past this loop and continue with your life, for both our sakes.”

“None of that matters now.”

You fondle the witch’s ass with one hand, run your fingers through her hair with the other, and lick her small ear with your eager mouth. Echidna moans softly.

“Make sure you… don’t fall in love with me. Make sure you still hold fondness for the people you miss on the outside. You are trying to escape from your troubles.”

“I’ll keep them in mind when I go back, but right now… you’re the only person that matters.”

Echidna slides her hands under your shirt, and her warm hands caress your naked lower back.

“Then let’s do it… one more time.”

Your lips press against hers, and her tongue enters your mouth. Her hands slide up your back as if she were about to take your shirt off, but then she moves them to your front to fondle your chest with her fingers. Both of your hands now rub her supple ass. Echidna releases you from the kiss and lets out a long breath.

“I’m afraid that will have to be all for now, Subaru. Until you come back again”, Echidna says while she breathes heavily and her eyes glow as if drugged.

Even though a pang pierces your heart, you nod, then follow the Witch of Greed as she leads you by the hand back to the tea table. You sit in your chairs, then lift your gazes at each other over the teacups and the teapot as if you had entered her death-dream seeking her wisdom. You can tell that she’s forcing herself to come down from her arousal, but for the moment she’s not a powerful witch, merely a person who wants to love and be loved. These are feelings you understand well, so you help her down from them.

“That Daphne…”, you begin, then swallow. “She lives in hell.”

“Yes, she does.”

“I don’t know if I experienced her curse to the extent she does every waking moment, but… she deserves some credit for remaining lucid enough after hundreds of years of such a nightmare.”

Echidna nods, and drinks from her teacup as if trying to calm herself. Her nostrils are widened.

“Our burdens aren’t equivalent. She is bound by chains stronger than those that bind the rest of us.”

“Well… The little advice she gave me will have to do. I don’t feel capable of facing her again at the moment.”

“Make no mistake: if the White Whale didn’t content herself with hunting in specific areas every couple of weeks, or the Great Rabbit roamed the land instead of sleeping underground and only emerging when it has snowed significantly, only for them to move somewhere else as soon as they’ve had their fill for the day, the world would end.”

“I had understood that much. Everyone of us hanging out in Sanctuary is going to be eaten alive if I don’t stop those rabbits.”

Echidna’s eyes smile at you fondly over the rim of her teacup.

“Which is a significant part of why you can’t give up and spend the rest of eternity tending to this old maiden’s sexual needs, Subaru, as much as I would enjoy it.”

You sigh.

“It’s hard not to accept defeat when it would taste so good. But can I ask you a serious question about Sanctuary?”

“Go ahead, Subaru.”

“It’s your town, isn’t it? You founded it. So why did you, why here, why the whole thing with the barrier, the half-breeds, all that…?”

“It’s a long story, of course. But the short version is that Sanctuary wasn’t my idea. I needed some solitary land to carry out my research in peace. Back in the old world I approached the Mathers household, and they granted me this backwoods barony, which was as perfect for my purposes as they came. The Mathers lineage would benefit from my research, and I would also take a few of their talented younglings as wards, if I had the patience for it. The Mathers also acted as mediators when I needed people to build houses or dig further into the ground. But back then there wasn’t anything resembling a village, just a few houses for me and the few people that hung around, as well as my laboratories and storage facilities. Through my research I ended up realizing that the blood of half-breeds was vital for figuring out how to find a cure for the worst injustice that ever plagued living beings: that of being born just to die. It was a terrible time for demi-humans back then, because some had gotten particularly rowdy and launched wars of conquest against human nations. They lost, and plenty of the refugees, some of which only intended to live in peace and never agreed with the hostilities, found themselves rejected in human territories. Soon the rumour that a sanctuary awaited them in the backwoods of the Mathers territory reached their ears, and many families found their way over here. They understood that I wanted them for my research, but in exchange they found the safety to live with their families in peace. It became a symbiotic relationship.”

You want Echidna to explain how the barrier came to be, but a wave of dizziness ripples through you. You hunch over and grab your head. Even though for a moment you felt as if you were about to pass out, you end up taking a deep breath and rubbing your shoulders.

“Sorry for interrupting you. Something was wrong with me for a moment…”

Echidna stares at you gravely.

“Some disturbance in the outside is waking you up, Subaru. Our time together has come to an end.”

It must be Emilia. She has woken up from her own nightmare, and must be shaking you awake. You are so disappointed that you want to punch the table, but you take a deep breath. You know that Echidna was telling the truth, that by you wanting to spend the rest of your conscious life with the Witch of Greed as her sexual plaything, you are escaping from your troubles the same way you did back at the capital, during that self-imposed loop that usually ended with you guillotining yourself. You will have to return to that cold, harsh world outside, and wade through your many obstacles over and over until you succeed. How much will the experience change now that you will be able to remember Echidna?

You both stand up and walk until you face each other next to the table. You don’t want to say goodbye, but she speaks first.

“I had such a lovely time, Subaru.” Echidna smiles warmly at you. “But still, every visit to my death-dream requires payment.”

You are pretty sure she made up these rules, but you shrug.

“Sure. Take from me whatever you want.”

“That’s pretty generous of you.”
As you breathe in her scent, you realize that your feelings for her go beyond love. You worship her. You would die permanently to protect her if need be.

“But for now I’ll be content if you offer me that accessory of yours”, Echidna says while pointing at your right wrist.

You are confused about what she means, but you realize you have a handkerchief tied around your wrist. How did a handkerchief end up there? Ah, that precocious trainee tied it as a custom of her village or some shit. You chuckle with disbelief.

“Are you sure you want this? It’s completely worthless.”

Echidna tilts her head and offers you a smile of understanding.

“You aren’t aware, but objects imbued with the earnest wishes of young maidens hold a special magic of their own.”

You grimace as you snap your head back.

“You are fucking with me, aren’t you…”

Echidna can’t keep a straight face. She covers her mouth while her shoulders tremble, but she ends up bursting into laughter. You laugh as well.

“Don’t play around with my lack of knowledge like that!”, you complain.

Echidna wipes one of her eyes.

“Sorry, sorry. But I assure you, after what I intend to do to it, it won’t be useless any longer.”

She takes your arm by the forearm and lets her free hand hang over the handkerchief. She closes her eyes, and even though nothing seems to have happened, when she opens her eyes again she seems content. She lowers your arm gently.

You bow.

“I assume that has done something. Thank you. I assure you, Witch of Greed, I’ll come visit you as soon as I can.”

Echidna looks down. You don’t like one bit the sadness that showed on her pale face.

“Subaru, you truly don’t understand. The requirement for entering a death-dream gets increasingly harder, and the next time you will have to surpass your request for knowledge that you had uttered while you had gone insane.”

You go cold. You stare at her, waiting for the witch to add some comment that would lessen the finality of her words, but none come. She looks worried that this meeting might have been the last time.

“Please, Echidna, don’t tell me I will never see you again”, you mutter with your throat almost squeezed shut.

The Witch of Greed steps forward and places her hand on your chest, over your heart.

“I wish I knew the answer, and you know how much it bothers me not to know something. Let’s hope that you will find your way back to me, and next time we will have something very important to discuss about our future.”

The Witch of Greed kisses you on the cheek, and as she does so, her form vanishes while her death-dream collapses on itself.


Note from January of 2021:

The part where the protagonist meets Daphne took me a lot to finish. I tend to dive deeply into the scenes in my mind, I guess, and I felt dizzy through it. As if that wasn’t enough, I lost my current job midway through. Other times I embrace these pauses between jobs as opportunities to do stuff I actually want to use my time in, but now I feel like shit.

Roleplaying through “Re:Zero” with the GPT-3 story generator (Part 64)

This entry covers part of the eleventh volume of the original “Re:Zero” novels.

In the previous entry we learned that Garfiel is boring, that children shouldn’t be Pokemon trainers, that Echidna is a bad mother, that the protagonist is traumatized after being eaten alive, that the Witch of Greed wants to consume the protagonist, and that the protagonist is waiting to meet the presumably horrifying Daphne, the Witch of Gluttony.


You stare at the empty chair across from you while your heart jumps on your chest and cold sweat beads on the back of your neck. Being so close to Echidna had already made you light-headed, and now you can’t think straight. You realize, for starters, that you are staring at a chair, when Echidna had said that the Witch of Gluttony doesn’t sit. As the hair on your arms stands up, you look around the hillock in case another witch is standing out of sight to give you a scare. You first realize that this isn’t the small hillock you had assumed it to be, in which you would just have to take a few steps to roll downhill. The top of this hillock is much wider, as if Echidna wanted to grant you more room to maneuver.

When your gaze falls back on the chair across you, someone is sitting there. It’s a tanned girl not older than ten, with short, feathered, dark green hair and red eyes. She’s wearing a white sunday dress, and the first instinctive impression you get is of a prim and proper girl from a reputable family. When you return your gaze to her face, she smiles with a wide mouth.

The sudden sight doesn’t compute for your brain, but as you hold her red gaze, you recall the most ominous warning that Echidna had given you: not to look into the Witch of Gluttony’s eyes. You flinch and look down at her side of the table. You must be giving the impression that you want to shrink into the chair. Why is Daphne a child? And why is she so sylphlike? Someone born with the curse of gluttony surely should be as obese as they get.

“I’m glad that I got to meet you, Baru!”, the child says with a carefree, innocent voice.

Her voice dismantles you further. She sounded like the kind of girl who would happily spend hours playing with a doll house. You had imagined that you would face someone who would give some justification for creating those two legendary monsters, the White Whale and the Great Rabbit, but if Daphne is a child who was killed then trapped as a ghost for hundreds of years, surely she must have created those monsters on a whim, as playmates. You feel that you can’t hold her responsible for the damage and uncountable deaths that the White Whale and the Great Rabbit have caused by rampaging for centuries. The problem is that a child shouldn’t have the power to create such monsters in the first place. Was this the reason why Echidna didn’t seem troubled by your fear in anticipation of meeting the Witch of Gluttony? She must have known you were going to meet an innocent child that can’t help but manifesting horrors in the world outside.

Your shoulders slump.

“Ah… I’m happy to meet you as well”, you ask with a nervous voice. “How are you doing?”

On the edge of your vision you notice that she smiles at your words.

“I’m doing better now. Ekidonna always keeps the visitors for herself. That’s not fair, is it? And we get so few!”

Her voice was so hopeful that you begin to feel relieved. She must be a very emotional person, and they usually forgive as they get attached to others easily. Still, you get the sense that you won’t glean any information about how to defeat the Great Rabbit from her.

“Not to disparage the great Echidna or anything,” you say with a conciliatory tone, “but I’m glad I can meet at least another one of you witches. It’s not fair that you ended up locked away for centuries, is it? It must get too lonely.”

The child giggles.

“I’m not lonely at all! I’m always with my friends. But I’m happy that I could meet one more. You are so friendly with Ekidonna too, giving her lots of kisses on her legs. And you wanted to kiss her down there too!” She giggles as if laughing at a silly joke. “That’s where we pee from!”

You gasp. Your gaze darts around in a panic, although you are very careful not to allow yourself to look above the lower half of this child’s face.

“Y-You shouldn’t have seen any of it. Sorry, I didn’t know the other witches were watching. It was supposed to be an intimate moment.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. It was very funny! But I’m feeling sad that you won’t look at me. It’s bad manners not to look at the person you are speaking to, you know. Daddy told me that many times. Are you shy?”

You must seem mousy, petrified as you are of holding this child’s gaze. Is this a ploy? Is she feigning innocence, and the moment you look into her red eyes she will be able to eat you, or something more unimaginably horrible?

“You were listening to the long conversation I had with your fascinating friend Echidna, didn’t you? So you know that she warned me about looking into your eyes. I’m merely following her recommendations.”

The child laughs, then shakes her head.

“You think I’m Daphy! That’s so funny! I look nothing like Daphy! But that’s alright, you hadn’t met us before.”

A chill runs through your spine, and you slowly lift your gaze towards the child’s red eyes. She stares back with curious amusement. You stand up from your chair and walk a couple of steps away from the tea table so you can look at this girl fully. She tilts her head, then she turns on her chair to face you. There’s nothing weird about the rest of this stranger beyond the fact that now you know that her white dress has a skirt.

“Who are you then?”, you ask cautiously.

“Me? I’m a wee little girl! A very, very, very little girl!”

Both the presence of a random child here as well as her carefree nature, after having been trapped in this tomb for hundreds of years, unnerves you. You want to retreat. It’s the closest you have felt in this world to being in a haunted house. You are staring at a ghost, who feels to you as incomprehensible and unpredictable as the ones in your old world.

“What’s your name…?”

“Name’s Typhon. That’s the name my parents gave me. Do you like it?”

“It’s… a nice name… Where are your parents, Typhon?”

You don’t know why you asked that. It just doesn’t sit right that this child isn’t at home with her family.

“I ate them.”

She answers so casually that you forget to breathe for a second.

“You… You did… What?!”

“I ate them. I was hungry.”

“But why would you do that?!”

“There’s no cake in this room. The desserts here are terrible!”

You stare at her wide-eyed and with your mouth open. The child can’t hold her serious expression for longer than a couple of seconds, and then she closes her eyes and grins, showing most of her teeth.

“I don’t eat that much! That’s Daphy’s problem! You are so silly, you just believed me!”

You don’t know what to say, but you force yourself to come up with something.

“Yeah, you really got me there, Typhon… Anyway, why did you come to see me? Were you just curious about a stranger entering your tomb?”

“Hmmm… I dunno. I just felt like it. And you aren’t a stranger anymore, Baru! A stranger wouldn’t be so friendly with Ekidonna, would he?”

“Well, I guess not…”

“I like you! But I’m curious to know something… Are you a sinner, Baru?”

You have no idea how to answer. Why is this girl suddenly asking about sins? Who the hell is she? The name Typhon doesn’t mean anything to you. Is she truly one of the witches of old, even though she’s a damn kid? You feel that you need to answer seriously. You have no clue what this child is capable of.

“Let’s see… I have killed a few people, I can’t quite remember how many… I stabbed an Archbishop in the heart and he died some time later, my sword got stuck into a cultist’s head that one time Ricardo launched me against the guy, I… I had my ground dragon murder a pretty teenage girl who was possessed. Those are the things that sound like sins of everything I’ve done, I guess. And I cheated on my Rem…”

“You’re not a very good person, are you?”

You swallow.

“No, I suppose not.”

Typhon smiles at you.

“Good! That means I can eat you!”

You jump away from her. Your whole body is tense, and you are having trouble breathing properly.

“Damn it, are you actually the Witch of Gluttony just pretending to be someone else?”

The child doubles over with laughter. When she recovers, she jumps from her chair and walks a couple of steps towards you. You only prevent yourself from moving because you feel she would simply get closer.

“You believe everything!”, Typhon says between giggles. “I don’t know if you are an evildoer yet. Let me hold your hand!”

“What?”

Typhon slowly approaches your hand with hers.

“This will tell me everything about you, Baru. If you truly are a bad person deep down, then I will curse you.”

You feel your pulse in your neck. You swallow to return some saliva to your mouth. Are you a bad person?

You feel like you are. But Echidna has seen all of your memories and still accepted you.

“Ah… Can I refuse to be judged like that?”

Typhon frowns at you.

“No, because I’m the judge.”

You allow the girl to grab your hand. You tense up. You had expected to feel some electricity-like surge of power running through you, but it just feels as if you are holding a small girl’s hand.

Typhon giggles as she looks into your eyes.

“Baru, those are so many icky thoughts about girls!”

“Wha…?”

“You think about naked girls all the time!”

You try to withdraw your hand from her grip, but somehow you can’t move it.

“I do not! Well, I do! Is that bad!?”

You panic as a bead of sweat rolls down your forehead. The smile on Typhon’s face broadens.

“That’s not right, Baru! Those girls would feel bad if they knew, wouldn’t they?”

“Ah… I think that Rem and Emilia would be happy about it, don’t you think…? Do you know who they are…?”

Typhon is still smiling up at you, but with a coldness in her red eyes.

“You feel much worse about yourself than the stuff you have done, but those are so many dirty thoughts about girls! We have to do something about that, don’t we?”

You don’t want to respond, but you feel that you need to say something.

“Typhon, I also think about things other than girls…”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! I think about eating good food, and talking to people I like, and killing people I don’t like, that kind of stuff.”

“Don’t you think you have a dirty mind, Baru?”

This child is still holding your hand. Your palms are sweating profusely.

“Anyway, I’ll help you with your problem”, Typhon says. “You are not an evildoer, just naughty!”

She moves back while still holding your hand, and you realize that your right arm has followed her even though you haven’t felt a pull in your body. She’s holding on to your rigid arm as if it were a doll’s limb. Your blood runs cold. You look down towards where your right arm ought to be, but it ends slightly below the shoulder as if it had been cut off and the wound cauterized immediately. No, as if you were a detachable action figure. You look back at Typhon, who has lowered her right hand, still holding on to yours, but keeps staring up at you as if she didn’t just pull off one of your limbs.

“You need to be punished, right?”, Typhon says casually. “In the future, whenever naughty thoughts come to you, you will fear that you will lose a part of yourself!”

You’re about to cry.

“There’s nothing wrong with naughty thoughts!”, you say unconvincingly. “Wanting to have sex with a bunch of people is one of the most normal things in the world! Maybe not with that trainee, but… those outfits are too much!”

You’re edging backwards, and at some point you realize that your left arm has fallen to the grass as if it were poorly glued to your body.

Typhon steps towards you while she chews innocently on her thumbnail. She’s still holding on to your detached right arm.

“I don’t want to eat you, though. You’re too skinny! And I’m not allowed to eat people with black hair!”

“I-I already know you aren’t Daphne! Please, don’t steal more of my limbs! I can’t regrow any of them!”

“But you need to be punished”, she says again with a playful smile.

You feel as if you are about to pass out. You don’t feel any pain at all, but trying to move your arms only for just your shoulders to pivot helplessly is screwing with your mind, sending it into a panic. Relax, you repeat to yourself. None of this is actually happening. You are inhabiting an avatar of sorts courtesy of Echidna. Think of that black-eyed loon and her warm insides you never got to taste.

“I don’t. I shouldn’t be punished. I should be able to think about having sex with whomever I want. I don’t hurt anyone with thoughts. You are the one messing with me.”

Typhon frowns as she stops chewing on her thumbnail. She tosses your right arm aside and she shakes her head.

“You’re not very nice, Baru. You’re not even nice to yourself! Maybe I should get Daphy to eat you after all.”

You shudder. You want to motion for the child to stop, but you don’t even have hands. Your legs are getting numb, as if they wish to stop holding your weight.

“You know, Echidna told me she would return to me after I had a chat with your glutton”, you say with a shaky voice. “The Witch of Greed won’t be happy if she finds me dismembered!”

“Nah. Ekidonna will find it interesting!”

She looks at your left arm, which is lying on the grass, and as if Typhon had cut it with a huge, invisible knife, the arm gets bisected silently.

“Y-You seem like such a nice girl, Typhon”, you say with a thin voice. “You wouldn’t fuck with me to such an extent, would you?”

Typhon looks at you with an innocent, cherub face.

“Don’t use bad words! When people can’t help themselves, they only learn through punishment, isn’t that right? All those icky thoughts about girls are making you feel guilty. That’s okay! I will divide your body for every naughty thought you ever had!”

The terror makes you want to vomit. This girl is going to reduce you into atoms!

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”, you yell as tears drip down your face. “Please forgive me! I am dominated by my genetic imperatives!”

“Nah, you must learn your lesson, Baru.”

Your legs give out, and you fall to your knees. No, to the stumps that your knees have become. The lower half of your legs has broken off cleanly. As you fall forward, unable to prevent yourself from faceplanting given that you lack both arms, you head gets detached and rolls off. A blade of grass slides across your eyeball, so you close your eyes. When your head, the only thing you feel you can move to any extent anymore, rests, you open your eyes to see the grass you are lying on rising in your vision like a tiny jungle. The rest of your body keeps bisecting slowly. Typhon is making sure you notice each time she applies her power. The child appears in your field of view, and she looks down at you with an innocent grin, as if she’s merely playing with you. You open your mouth to speak, but suddenly you lose your bifocality. It seems as if the part of your head that contains your left eye has detached and has slid down, so it only shows you the blue sky surrounded by unfocused blades of grass.

To your surprise, you can still speak.

“You called me mean, and yet you just reduced me to this. What does that make you, witch?”

Typhon giggles.

“Me? I’m not the mean one here. You’ve got a very mean look about you, Baru, even though you aren’t that bad of a guy. Besides, I’m saving you, am I not?”

You try to shake your head, but it just slides a little to the side.

“How do you call this being saved when I can’t even tell where my junk is? This is around the fourth time I’ve lost those guys!”

Typhon giggles, and she is about to say something when you both are startled by the distant sound of a woman shouting. It comes from the sky, and it increases in volume as if someone had jumped from a skyscraper and on the way down she berated as loud as she could the people she was about to meet below.

A few seconds later, the shouting becomes intelligible.

“The first time you meet him and you hurt him like this! It’s unforgivable! How could you be so cruel!? He only wished to speak to us! You think you can get away with this!?”

Typhon frowns, and crouches next to you to touch your forehead with the tip of her fingers.

“It looks like Nerva isn’t too happy with me. She can’t stop yelling, that one.”

One of your eyes catches a glimpse of a person falling feet first maybe around twenty meters away, where the hillock curves down. When the person crashes, it jolts the ground sending up a burst of dirt, grass and particles. After the grass and the dirt fall around the crater that has formed, you see a girl maybe in her late tens or early twenties, who is down on one knee. She’s beautiful, blonde and blue-eyed, and her fit body is clothed with the closest thing you’ve seen in this fantasy world to a superhero outfit, white and blue, which provides a generous amount of cleavage. She has gathered her long hair in a ponytail at the side of her head, as if she just wanted her hair out of the way. When she stands up, she flounces angrily towards Typhon and you, and midway through she points with a trembling hand towards the child. This new girl’s eyes are crying as if out of indignation, because she’s glaring at Typhon.

“You! You dare hurt Subaru like that!? I’ll never forgive you!”

Typhon rolls her eyes.

“Oh, he’s alright. Aren’t you fine, Baru?”

You narrow your eyes, even though one of them is only showing you blue sky and blurry grass.

“I’ve been better.”

The blonde girl shakes her head in disappointment, and now she’s looking down at you while tears keep running down her face. This stranger came to defend you, it seems.

“Nice to meet you”, you say. “I guess you must be one of the witches of old, right? You know my name from prying into my conversation with Echidna.”

She crosses her arms while she stares at you with her beautiful light blue eyes, but she’s frowning heavily as if outraged.

“We have no choice but to see and hear! We can’t go anywhere! You didn’t come to hurt any of us, nor to attempt to cast us from this world! In fact, you wanted to make love to the Witch of Greed!”

“Which is public knowledge now, it seems…”, you mumble.

The blonde woman clenches her right hand into a fist and she pumps it energetically.

“People should love each other! That’s the solution for all the troubles in the world! I’m Minerva, the Witch of Wrath! I’m glad to meet you in person, Subaru!”

“I like you already, Minerva. It doesn’t hurt that you have the body of a model, or how I imagine a model would look in person. I’d love to shake your hand, but you’d have to find mine first.”

Typhon lets out a noise of indignation.

“What did I tell you, Baru? No mouth for you.”

Something detaches in your face. It must be your mouth, because everything under your nose and above your chin feels hollow. You have lost the sense of taste, and you don’t feel the saliva in its cavity. You are surprised that you haven’t bled to death, nor had a heart attack because none of the things happening to your body make any sense.

Minerva narrows her eyes at Typhon, while her nostrils widen.

“You dare hurt Subaru further in front of me! You are the worst, Pride!”

“Oh, I’ll have you know that I’m still the best! The best! Wouldn’t you agree, Baru?”

You make a point of narrowing your eye that shows the child in its field of view. The little shit knows damn well you can’t say a thing.

“I won’t let you get away with this, Typhon!”, Minerva shouts while tears keep jumping from her eyes.

“How many times do I need to tell you to be careful with people’s feelings!? You have no right to hurt others!”

“I need to know if people around me are evildoers, and to what degree. You know this, Minerva! I can’t have them getting away with being evil.”

“You’d do well to listen to someone who has more experience than you do, kid!”

“We are both more than four hundred years old, though.”

“I’m still older, and I have accrued more life experiences! I’m telling you, breaking people apart is a bad thing, especially someone you’ve just met!”

Typhon frowns, clenches her fists and stomps on the ground.

“You’ve always been like this. Why am I even friends with you?”

“Because the pair of us can’t exactly be choosers when it comes to allies! We are both outcasts, and we have to help each other out! Now, I suggest you return him to normal or I will keep demanding you do so!”

“No, I don’t wanna. He hasn’t learned his lesson! He had icky thoughts about you the moment he saw you!”

You want to say that you couldn’t help it, nor wanted to, really. But you can’t say anything without a mouth.

“I’m not mad about that, people can have whatever thoughts they want!”, Minerva shouts as she keeps pointing an accusatory finger at Typhon. “Hurting people, that’s a different matter! You better make this right or I’ll be this close to never forgiving you!”

Typhon looks away, then snorts as she crosses her arms.

“You are one to talk. You want nothing more than to punch and headbutt people.”

“I may have done some questionable things in the past, but I have never outright hurt someone like you do! Turn him back, Typhon!”

“No! People need to be punished for their bad actions!”

Minerva groans loudly, then turns toward you and glares murderously at what remains of your face.

“Alright, then! I will do it myself!”

The Witch of Wrath stands in a fighting stance. She pulls her fist back while eyeing you as if she’s targetting your forehead.

You want to scream, you want to ask for mercy. This witch who a moment ago was defending your existence suddenly intends to obliterate you. You don’t understand anything.

She leaps towards you while launching her powerful fist. You close your eyes. The moment her fist connects with your forehead, you feel whole, standing on your legs. The shock almost makes them buckle. You stagger around for a moment while balancing yourself with your arms, which you have regained as well.

Minerva holds her fist in front of her as if she’s checking if she’ll need to punch you again, and although she’s frowning and tears run down her cheeks, she’s as close to satisfied as you have seen this strange person.

Typhon shakes her head.

“Why did you have to get involved, Nerva?”, she complains with a teary voice. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

Now that you have a voice again, you want to take the opportunity to defend yourself.

“Please, girls, let’s forget this regrettable incident.” You focus on Minerva, who looks back at you with her beautiful light blue eyes, like the water in a pristine lake. You walk up to her and offer your hand to shake. “I’m so glad to make your acquaintance, Witch of Wrath. Not only you look so fucking good, but you also prefer to put me together instead of breaking me apart. That makes you a winner in my eyes.”

Minerva wipes the tears from her eyes. She doesn’t stop frowning, or can’t, as she grabs your hand and shakes it while squeezing it strongly.

“I apologize if I seem a little angry! I can’t tolerate people hurting others, it gets on my nerves!”

“Don’t worry, I can tell that being furious is your niche. And man, you are as sexy as they come, aren’t you.”

Typhon stomps on the ground and clenches her teeth.

“Baru! Don’t say such icky things to my friends, I’m telling you!”

“If you don’t like it, then go away”, you say, barely glancing at her. “Sorry, Witch of Pride, if you have a problem with me having naughty thoughts, you might as well never share a room with me, because I’m made out of little else than naughty thoughts. If you took them out I’d become an empty husk.”

It seems that you won the argument, because Typhon pouts, walks away and vanishes as if she exited the death-dream.

Minerva smiles back at you, even though it looks malicious due to her frown. She gives your hand a final squeeze before letting it go.

“Typhon might be a dragon in a dress and I a lion, but you are a cat, Subaru!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You are too kind, Witch of Wrath, healing me through a righteous punch. I’m sure that if I ever get to leave this death-dream, I will remember you fondly. And not only because of that appetizing cleavage.”

She pumps her fist.

“Hah! You’d better remember!”

“I was supposed to meet Daphne, the Witch of Gluttony that you must be familiar with. Any tips on how to face such a terrifying prospect?”

She lowers her head while glaring fiercely.

“A-ha! Daphne is a real monster, but you are not! Just face her with the courage of your convictions, and I’m sure she will be just as charmed by you as I am!”

A smile grows on your mouth. You put your hands on your waist.

“Thanks for the advice. You remind me of my senior servant, if she were nice. It’s too bad you are dead, Minerva.”

“You look like you mean that, so I’ll take it as a compliment! I’m sure we would have been friends! Now, I have taken too much of your time! I hope we meet again, and remember to be fair and kind to people!”

“I intend to…”

You wave as Minerva turns around and walks away. When she vanishes, you feel sad.

As you turned to walk to your chair, Echidna is sitting in the shade of the parasol. Staring back at those black eyes with vertical slits fills you with such relief, it’s as if you came home after a long day at work. You sit down slowly while the Witch of Greed regards you with an apologetic expression.

“I failed to predict how eager Typhon was to meet you. She was waiting for the defenses to wane so she could take a good look at you.”

“It’s fine, really. I got to meet two interesting new people.”

You take a sip of your now tepid tea. Echidna rests her cheek on her hand and observes you with curiosity.

“You are something else, Subaru. Typhon’s black-and-white thinking led to that child breaking you apart, and yet your mind has recovered entirely. If anything, you seem more energized now. And I got to witness again how your psyche uses your sexuality as a defense mechanism. The moment you got aroused by our relentless paladin, your mind integrated the uncanny events without issues.”

You open your mouth to answer with the first thing that comes out naturally, but you realize that you are looking at someone whom you attempted to pleasure orally, and she’s pointing out that you just ogled at some other witch’s attributes.

“I apologize if me finding Minerva sexy bothered you, Echidna. I assure you that didn’t lessen how fascinated I am by your witchy self.”

She raises her eyebrows and sighs.

“I can see that you have a preference for the body type, and that’s fine by me. A lot of men seem to have a thing for dominatrixes.”

“I doubt that a dominatrix who healed people whenever she hit them would have a successful career. However, you are wrong about that. I want nothing more than sweet, loving intimacy occasionally accompanied by being murdered. That blonde hottie wouldn’t provide any of that. I was going to say that the prospect of it would make her angry, but I suppose that winning the lottery would make that one angry as well. You people have some burdens to bear with those curses you have been born with.”

Echidna takes a gulp of her tea. When she lowers the teacup, she turns her head slightly to the side and closes one eye as she looks at you.

“However, you did make me feel like a woman again, a flesh and blood female, by stimulating me to such an extent, but later on you salivate for a different woman. That’s a very mean thing to do, Subaru.”

You clear your throat. You can barely hold her gaze.

“You know, Echidna, I might have been cursed myself at birth to incarnate some horniness-related ideal. Have some sympathy for a fellow sufferer.”

She narrows her eyes at you, then puts her head down and chuckles.

“That’s true. It probably means you’re in more pain than even me. I’ll give you that. We are stalling, though. Our intention here was to summon the thorny witch of Gluttony, so you could figure something out about how to defeat at least one of her children. I’ll open the barrier again, and this time I will take extra care in making sure that nobody else interrupts your meeting. I can’t wait to witness how you deal with Daphne’s peculiarities.”

You shift your weight on the chair.

“You know, I feel we have been very lucky that more troublesome witches, one in particular, hasn’t taken the chance to confront me in your death-dream.”

Echidna nods slowly with a knowing, serious look.

“You are right about that. During this session, the Witch of Envy has attempted repeatedly to break into my death-dream.”

Your throat closes, and when a noise of surprise escapes your mouth, it sounds strangled.

“What!?”

“Special defenses, remember. Her insistence worries me, but she won’t succeed when I’m restricting access to the death-dream this much.”

“Somehow that doesn’t soothe my worries in the slightest. I’m guessing plenty of idiots in this fantasy world of yours had issues with you because you are a witch, and a powerful one at that, but I can’t imagine you doing something like what that traitorous Witch of Envy did to me: moving the return point so I couldn’t save the love of my life. That’s fucked.”

Echidna looks down at the grass for a moment.

“You wouldn’t hear pleasant words coming out of my mouth if I were forced to speak in depth about the Witch of Envy. She ruined my life. Ended it, in fact. But let’s forget about anything else that doesn’t relate to you meeting our Daphne for the first time. You will face a witch that won’t trigger your psyche’s main defense mechanism.”

You swallow your sudden anxiety.

“You know, I can appreciate some portly bodies.”

Echidna chuckles, a low sound.

“I’m sure you do, but I’m afraid that doesn’t apply here. Stay strong, Subaru. I’ll see you on the other side.”

You keep holding Echidna’s gaze in the vain hope that it will prevent her from leaving you, but as if she had been an illusion all along, the lovely, black-eyed Witch of Greed disappears leaving behind an empty chair.