So you can read my books

Saturday, June 21, 2014


Show versus Tell --
Alex Cavanaugh mentioned he sometimes struggled with this.  His novels do not show it though. 
However, here is the TELL version of the tale of my prior post to help him and my other friends a bit.


I am Elu, Apache diyi. And only I am left to tell the tale of Man, for I exist only in mirrors.
If the White man had merely been content to destroy himself, I would be glad.

But it is the White Man's way to destroy all he touches -- even his entire world.

Where to begin?

Do I begin with the madman who tainted ice cream he gave for free to the children on the streets of Detroit?
The poisoned dessert that turned those children into the walking dead?

No. Instead I will begin with the seven year old Victor Standish.
Abandoned by his mother, the Angel of Death, he sat in a swing in a Detroit playground, misunderstanding completely why she had left him.

As Death, she was Allwheres, Alltimes at once. She could no longer take him with her lest she destroy his sanity.

Being Death's son, Victor unknowingly drew the undead children to him. Showing the largeness of heart that would one day be his undoing, he saved the white girl beside him.

His mother's touch was already removing most of the memories of his wanderings. But though he could not place the face or form of his centaur teacher, Chiron, Victor remembered his teachings:

When surrounded by enemies, seize your sword, thrust up your shield, and find the high ground.

And this Victor did, taking the white girl, Becky, with him, though taunting and herding her.
He found his sword, a fallen baseball bat. He picked up his shield, a discarded garbage can lid.

In the towering child's slide and swing bars, Victor found his high ground. He found his first teacher in free running, the black boy, LeRoy. He found his rage against his deserting mother. He channeled it to fend off the undead horde.

But they were too many.

His rage exploded. Tapping into the power of his mother's blood, Victor screamed for the undead to die. And since he was his mother's son, they did just that.

Above Victor, safe from his death-scream, Becky lowered her slingshot, looking at Victor in wonder.
LeRoy pushed the three unmoving, undead children from the top of the slide. The small white girl in glasses began to shiver from shock.

The enemy was defeated ... for the moment.

Standing a layer of life from Victor, his mother, Death, cried black tears. Her son had proven he could survive without her.

She decided to cast him only on the deadliest streets. Then, though he would never again be by her side, he would always be in her heart and in her sight.

Still, there were other undead children than the ones killed in the playground.
The children's nightmare was not over.

And the End of Man had begun.
{Scroll down for the SHOW passage}:


  1. That photo looks similar to research I used to paint a portrait of an Apache warrior, with that white breastplate (if that's what that is on the brave in the photo). It was commissioned by a collector when I was at uni in the States.

    I've wanted to see a photo of ELU for a while now (or a facsimile).
    Liked this post, since ELU is not seen often (no pun). Funny, but I like this 'telling' and the info revealed by ELU better. There is more information in this post. In the other, more action and interaction.

  2. D.G.:
    I told this post in the style of the Lakota story-tellers.

    This photo was taken near the backwaters of the river bottoms near Yankton or Greenwood, S.D., between 1886 and 1900.

    The rider's dress includes clothes worn in traditional Native American dance occasions: moccasins, a shirt appropriate for a pow-wow, or wacipi, a breastplate, and personal medicine.

    Notice the traditional dancer's belt draped across the saddle horn. This man most likely paused for a picture before riding his horse to a wacipi.

    I thought this photo came close to what I envision Elu looking like.

    I'd like to a photo of your painting of that Apache warrior. :-)

    I think today's readers want more action and less tale-spinning -- sadly. :-(

  3. Left my comment on the SHOW post, but wanted to say thanks for posting the two. And appreciate that you don't think my work shows it.

  4. Re- that painting, Roland, it was sold to the collector by the guy I knew. I had no camera at the time (being a poor art student), so I have no record but in my mind.

  5. D.G.:
    At least you have the memory and the thrill of having creating it.

  6. There is a place for both show and tell. Different perspectives on the whole.
    And either, used exclusively causes me problems.
    I am addicted to stories which probably influences my fondness for the 'tell'.

  7. Elephant's Child:
    In that case, I will send you the fable I wrote in the Lakota story telling style, THE BEAR WITH TWO SHADOWS. :-) You'll like Hibbs.