uninspired

I've been exploring some surreal fiction lately, and I wanted some feedback from other writers. The characters are all from famous literature, don't be surprised if they seem familiar. Most of the stuff is meant to symbolize, not entertain. The text is (meant to be) quite philosophical, so excuse some of the parts that are not worked out and may strike you as a little corny. (sorry about the formatting, but BBCode is annoying to use). Thanks for any feedback in advance.


The Death of Mephistopheles


K. was tossing and turning in his sleep as he lay in the grass, his head resting on a open book; he must have fallen asleep while reading. Surrounding him was the southern German countryside with its many hills and valleys and the grassy meadow stretching over all of them; a slight breeze was whistling over the occasional treetop and in the far distance the Alps assumed a hazy blue shade. The air was fresh, the pollution of the cities far away and the only life in sight was the group of cows grazing on the distant plane. Occasionally the wind carried over the sound of their cowbells, but mostly it was silent. Everything seemed so peaceful and isolated that it was naturally easy to fall asleep in laze, and nevertheless it cost tremendous effort to awake again.
It was a temperate morning, not too cold, but the sun was still negotiating its constant battle with the night’s frost while K. was sunken in his dreams. In the distance loomed the only disturbance to the peaceful spot: a terrific and menacing forest. But the forest mattered little to the sleeping K. since it was so silent that eternity seemed to already have begun to sling its arm around it. The withered trees and the deep underbrush must not have been disturbed for several decades in order to become so wild. No matter how closely one wanted to look there was not an animal to be seen, and it raised the natural question: how can a forest survive without the deer to trim and care for it, or the deer in the lands with lack of forest?
K. was now jerking so violently in his outlandish nightmares that his head was tearing out the pages from the book while he threw himself from side to side. He was breathing heavily and clenching his fists when suddenly a little bump appeared on his stomach. The bump grew larger and larger and in it there were responsive twitches. As the hump began to expand, the skin on it was parting and the first little claws came from it, and as they tore a big enough hole a little arm came forth from it, speckled in red and black. Then came another arm, and in a breaststroke a full upper body came out of it. The thing was so wretched looking, and at the same time so adorable, that the wildest poet could not have told the two descriptions apart. Its head was shaped almost in an upside down tetrahedron, with little horns emerging from the arced base. The eyes protruded from the face a little, but were guarded by monstrous lashes. The sinewy upper body, which appeared to lack even a gram of fat, was clustered in a wild array of black and red, but the face was whiter than a whitewashed wall. The legs protruded too now from the hole, but mysteriously the back of the creature was as if it was stapled to the hump on K.’s stomach. If it weren’t for the fluttering going on inside the hump, it would have been quite impossible even to the most creative mind to understand that the wings were still stuck inside. A violent struggle ensued between the creature and the fear of claustrophobia until with a violent surge the creature broke free and stood shakily on its own two legs. As the hump on K.’s stomach deflated and his seizures began to recede, the young creature pranced about K. in seeming delight. It flapped its wings and was so rapidly thrown off balance that it tumbled some body lengths away. K. was still asleep.
In wonder, the young and devilish creature stared at the thorny wild rose in front of him. It was so intriguing to him that he began to stroke it, but soon tore his hand away in dismay. Immediately his spirit brightened though, and he flattered the rose:

Lady, thy hand does me great pleasure,
And so in equal measure,
Reap my pensive treasures!
And give me asylum in thy aid,
(I could not wish a better maid)
Lady, I’m afraid!
And though it might be rather late,
I do possess admirable traits:
I bestow upon the dim
Only manifest of Sin
And upon the bright,
An everlasting Light.

This was said so amicably that the rose gave him a place in her heart and without much ado allowed him to pluck her. The young Mephisto, half-fluttering, half-stumbling, pounced happily away into the wood.
But K.’s troubles were far from over and his relief was short. K. was now lying stiff as a soldier in the grass, all his muscles clenched and his arms held so tightly at his sides that the blood was beginning to make his forearms swell up. His face turned into a grimace of extreme anger and his body was rigid and appearing to increase in weight. He was as if turned to stone. The body had by now amassed enough weight to cause a small crater in the ground and a canyon was forming its way to a nearby grove. With a huge crackling sound the abyss reached the first tree and it loomed only for a second before it fell on K. with a huge thump. The remains of K. squirted and trickled from the beneath the fallen tree on both sides of it and pages of the book were being carried away in the wind. The blood, flesh and bones lay there, still for a second, but mysteriously they started to flow together again and there appeared to be some inner gravity forcing the remains into separate entities on either side of the trunk. Slowly on the left side the flesh made out another body, morphing and expanding in the wildest manners until another K., although quite some years younger now, had been forged. On the right side the remains lay still for another while until a gust of wind precipitated the reformation. The bones began to tower and the structure rigidly began to evolve; and with a final radiating burst of light and a triumphant note the entire stack turned into a stout lieutenant.
The lieutenant wore a green jacket with two lines of buttons going down both sides and various stripes on the sleeves along with a skipper’s hat with an unrecognizable emblem on its front. The boots were heavy and sturdy, the kind you would imagine stamping through town’s squares dragging fear and Bismarck-colored banners behind them. The lieutenant was a display of sheer superiority and haughtiness; his every move was calculated and he was more rational and cold than Nature’s plagues. As if given orders by some Superior, the Noble Moor’s lieutenant marched off into the distance. Exhausted, K. collapsed and truly rested.


* * *


K.’s struggles had been so long that it was now dusk over the forest and the added shadow of the trees made it extremely dark under them. One of the treetops was out of place; it had been decorated with a red rose, and through its midst there was an ongoing shuffling. Such was the situation when the lieutenant, now at leisure, was striding through the forest in search of life that was in need of his government. He was out to keep the forest orderly and free of any pestilences and thought that this could only be achieved by his own wisdom, so first he would have to make the forest his land. The self-proclaimed king was now surveying his kingdom when suddenly a little pebble hit the back of his neck. Furious in anger, the lieutenant turned around in search of the perpetrator; he was even more furious when shortly thereafter another pebble hit him from the other side. He looked up and noticed the rose in the tree and it was just in time when Mephisto fluttered to the next tree. The lieutenant was searching the trees and didn’t notice Mephisto jumping down from one of them. Mephisto tapped his decorated shoulder, and at his grimace the woods echoed with high-pitched laughter. Mephisto taunted:

As your image
Does give you long-awaited might,
So does your grimace
Suggest to me your fright!
Is not your paradox
The contradiction between reason and sight,
And also its paradox,
The disagreement between reason and right?

“You miserable scum!” the lieutenant boomed, “These woods are tainted by your games. But the day in which you will be put to your destiny will come. And I will do all to speed up that process.” Unimpressed, Mephisto provoked:

But when it comes to Passion’s fire,
And Heart’s desire,
Who is truly higher?
Or am I dull and dire,
A mocking hopeless liar?
Your face tells me – I tire.
Oh, inconsolable friar,
Do not deny; admire!

In rage the lieutenant stomped off. He divided the brush in front of him and dug a trench in the ground; if Mephisto should follow him, he would fall inside and all the mocking and flying in the world wouldn’t do him any good. The lieutenant hid behind a tree, ready to pounce upon Mephisto if he should fall in his trap. But it would take more to trap the devilish creature than that; Mephisto observed the lieutenant from a distance and stilled his laughter with his fist. He continued to throw rocks in the bushes in front of the traps and then let himself fall from his tree. The lieutenant thinking Mephisto was in his trap flung himself in the hole. Mephisto levitated over the hole in delight.

It does not suit to suppress
Or trap me even less
For I am here to teach you
Of life, the one that suits us two
Since you are so enticed
Or would you rather lose inside?
For I am the voice beneath your flesh
Sin, I bring, and Joy at best.

The lieutenant lost sight of the voice beneath his flesh in his anger and sought to make new traps. It started to rain and the hole was filling up with water so the Noble Moor’s adversary climbed out of his inner trap and as the sound of thunder rolled through the forest Mephisto tumbled in fright. A light flashed over the lieutenants face; he was starting to grow a beard, a faint mustache as is common for fledgling youths. But there was no artist to pull the strings for him, as there was for Mephisto and so Sin’s long fingers accompanied his growth. Mellifluously, and apologetically, Mephisto said to the lieutenant:

Sir, I apologize for my injustice
For you do not have the guidance
To lift from you the guilt
Which calls my teases toward you.
It is however destiny that I mock you thus
For your guilt is what you must usurp
So take the true stance of the free,
Or your name will carry me!
But if you now repent
Then I will take my leave
And in your new-found end
You’ll be calling after me.
And in return for my delay
You must then duly pay
But I’ll prevent dismay
Should your offspring walk astray.

With this said, Mephisto flew away, but the soldier was so wounded that no promises of recompense could bring forward is acceptance. He was so bitter he was determined to find the glory that God assigned to him that he would not listen to the devil inside him. The lieutenant removed his hands from his ears; he could not stand the little creature any longer. He fabricated a sling and concealed it on his body. When next the little creature visited him, it would be the last voluntary visit, he thought. The lieutenant slept.
The next morning, the Noble Moor’s adjutant sought out Mephisto. Sling in hand he heard the devil roar:

When you approximate my health
Judgment of others is judgment of self.

– The sling caught Mephisto by the neck and a gentler voice continued–

Now try me as you wish.

The lieutenant pulled the string and poor Mephisto hung; as far as anyone can tell the lieutenant is still alive today.

* * *


K. awoke in the middle of the night just like it is common to awake in a cycle after some hours of sleep. Anticipating the broad daylight, he was quite startled to find it pitch black around him. His book was nowhere to be found, he was thirsty and a huge tree trunk was lying on the edge of a chasm; obviously, he was in a bit of a stupor. He felt a bruising pain on his stomach and he felt rather empty, but he attributed it to his hunger. He followed the path to the forest, but when he entered it, all he could find was the glowing of Mephisto’s rose.