Archive for August 15th, 2009


I Will Return

August 15, 2009

(Note: This is inspired by the Taman Shud Case, an unsolved case involving an unidentified man found dead on an Australian beach in 1948. To this day, his identity remains a mystery and various clues and interviews have only increased the confusion. Please give it a read, either before or after, or this entire piece may come off as incredibly abstract.)


This is where it began.

This is where I began. Not exact, but close enough.

The point on the time line is indeterminate. The geologic point has been overgrown, overrun, razed, rebuilt, burnt, salted and reborn. The entrance is submerged under the earth’s ongoing trauma and humanity’s damaged psyche.

I was of the sea. I was null and void. I was shaped by warring forces, formless beings of immense power and childish jealousy.

I was a malfunction. An afterbirth of titans, angels, demons and gods. I was malformed. I was so hideous no god would claim me. I was so horrible no people would have me.

I was unleashed, without guidance. Without purpose.

I rose from the depths. Destroying life. Igniting change. For millions of years, I existed nowhere. An idea. An illusion.

My impulses would not be controlled. I leapt through time and space. I was made whole in destruction. I was freed by chaos.

I was a scapegoat. The blame for the gods’ abuse of their worshippers was laid at my feet. I wore their shame to save their power.

I had no motive. I simply was.

I fulfilled a million curses from a thousand tongues. I eavesdropped on a million prayers destined for deaf ears.

I was alone.

My names were legion.

I was the Tower of Babel. I was “here there be monsters.” I was revolution. Tyranny. Anarchy. I was the Crusades. I was the smallest creature destroying millions through plague. I was the center of every conflict. I was the false god of mass suicide. I was humanity turning on itself time and time again.

I am carried in a vessel. A man like any other. A constant companion. For hundreds of years. There have been others, but I have been with him the longest.

He is ageless. He exists without a past or future.

He has seen without comprehending. He has moved through others’ lives. Existing without living. His motions are involuntary. He is because I am.

He has begun to resent me. He has acted out of fear and hatred. He has never known peace. Happiness. Love. He wishes to stop. He feels the ache of a hundred centuries. The burdens of a million lives. He is regaining sentience and he seeks closure.

His mind is hollow. His speech, garbled. He writes in code to me. He tells me of his pasts. He is fading.

I have been selfish. I have held on for too long. I moved with him throughout the world, setting plans in motion. Damage. Disrepair. Disarray. He was unaware and complicit. He needs release. He jots down another note on a scrap of paper.


It is unintelligible. A garbled prayer to a god that no one will worship. A mouthless scream in random letters, born of the emotions he has been denied. The dreams that never came. The life he never led.

He is clean, free of worldly entrapments. His possessions are in one suitcase, safely locked away. He has no family. No friends. No home.

He never was.

So I (and We) sit on the beach, gazing into the black, rolling water. He holds a scrap of paper in his right hand. A final request. A begging for the void. A keening noise fills my (his) ears. He turns the paper over. Instead of the usual jumble of letters, I (we) see two words: “Taman shud.”


A thousand years rush back in an instant. An empty vessel. A man. A poet. A philosopher. A scientist. But at this point, where I emerged, still just a man.

The millennium passes. I am back on the sand, gazing into the sea.

His voice finds itself after nine hundred years of silence.


I grant his request. My (his) eyes focus on the sky. His right arm goes numb, and the words (his prayers, his requests) fall to the sand.

I extract myself from him, pulling psychically and physically, propelling myself from his body. The force of my exit ruptures and distorts his organs. I reveal myself briefly and his mind is aflame. His soul thrashes and wails, before fleeing.

I could grasp his soul and devour it. Or ride it to another vessel. But I, too, want to go home.

I can see the future. It shifts and distorts. I see men playing gods. They conquer pain. They remove disease. They blend and fuse genetic ephemera into a fountain of youth. They extend their lives while neglecting the consequences of their actions.

They fail to see that something only has value if it is limited. That a life worth living is forever entwined with eventual death. Without death, there is no essence. No urgency. No importance. Infinity is worthless.

They will continue, compounding error after error in their arrogant efforts to unravel the mysteries of life. For such a learned group, they seem to be unaware that “unravel” has two very different meanings. They seek to unravel the keys to eternity as though they were untangling a length of cord, seeking order from chaos.

Instead, they will unravel life as though it were a fraying scarf, pulling at the thread until all that is left is a worthless tangle of yarn.

All secrets will be reburied. Disorder will stake its claim. They will discover, upon my return, that I am the needle and the haystack.

I return to the sea to gather my strength. Heal my wounds. Hone my edge.

I am alone.

I am a weapon.

My name is Entropy.

And I will return.