Neil

The Return of Neal was met with great fanfare and celebration. An enormous parade through the streets of New York was held the next day. Several notable groups gave vociferous replies to the new coming of this alien from outer space—this bright light in these dark times—this creature newly resurrected from the dead.

The scientific community was astonished. Through many superfluous words and phrases, they eloquently expressed their opinion. In short, they claimed that they “didn’t understand how this could happen.” This alien had clearly been dead, and now, with a brand new spaceship (though smaller than last time), he landed in a small field just west of Philadelphia and was now clearly not dead. Incredible, they said.

The Church of Neal claimed it as their greatest day since the dawn of time. Not necessarily the greatest day since the dawn of time, but at least their greatest day. After all, they hadn’t been around for very long—just four years since Neal arrived the first time—and most of those days had been pretty crummy. But not this day. This day was great. Everyone could see that. So they established a mandatory holiday and drafted petitions to require its observation by every government of the world.

The governments of the world were not amused. They did their own thing. They slapped a helmet on the space alien immediately.

Meanwhile, the New Purists, those who completely rejected all teachings related to Neal, completely rejected the resurrection of Neal. Sure, there was an alien being paraded around like the latest hero, but clearly this was no more than an elaborate hoax. Either Neal had never died or this new Neal was a holographic projection intended to fool the masses. At least their guess was close to being correct, though in the end still very, very wrong.

The ufologists, who also did not trust the government because of the events surrounding and following Neal’s first appearance—they accused the government of receiving Neal and the truth about him only at the tables of shady back rooms—mounted an assault to kidnap Neal and question him in their own secret facilities. The truth, after all, needed to be made public through trusted hands. Their attempted kidnap failed.

Indeed, it wasn’t until the end of the parade when they had the alien sign a release waiver that they suddenly and embarrassingly realized that this wasn’t Neal the space alien at all. It was Neil the space alien. The spelling of his name on the document confirmed it. And now that they looked at Neil, it was quite clear that this wasn’t Neal at all. As one onlooker observed, this alien didn’t have a chronic dry skin problem.

All those who had been vociferous about the Return of Neal retracted their statements and replaced them with new, louder statements. These statements were less interesting.

At the end of the parade, the media whisked Neil into an enclosed chamber, already darkened for the impending interview. After the days of Neal, when they forgot to ask him for his proof concerning God’s existence, there had been a massive, worldwide poll taken to determine the top three questions they would have asked if they had gotten around to it. The questions were:

1. Does God exist?
2. How do you know this?
3. Can you show us your proof?

The media interviewed Neil and asked him these questions. Neil, not being Neal, responded in this way:

1. Yes.
2. I don’t know.
3. I don’t know.

This interview was televised worldwide. Subsequently, wars broke out all over the Earth. Josiah Swanson began work on his next bestseller, -EA- is for Intelligence, -EI- is for Stupidity. Those who circumcised themselves during Neal’s tenure fell into an even deeper depression. Neil slipped away to South America in the confusion. Now that’s irony, everyone concluded later.

Fortunately for Neil, he was wearing his government-supplied protective headgear. After he discovered his liking for jungle mushrooms, he spent several days—or so the story became in the retellings to follow—stumbling around and losing all sense of reality.

When the authorities finally located him, they proved that they had learned nothing from the days of Neal. In the ruckus of obtaining the poor alien, someone tackled him and knocked his head hard against a tree. Neil’s helmet saved his life, though his brain was quite concussed from the incident. Josiah Swanson felt vindicated. Children who enjoyed riding bikes decided not to bother going for a ride anymore—now overprotective mothers would certainly suck all the fun out of it.

Concussed Neil was even less interesting than the normal non-Neal Neil. During recovery, he expressed to a nurse to whom he had grown attached all of the trials of his previous life on his home planet. He told how he had been a drug addict, a thief, and eventually a murderer. He told how he wanted to be better, that he was well-intentioned, but always his good attempts failed. As a result, he was sent away from his planet and landed on Earth, hoping to find a largely uninhabited planet upon which he could settle down and live out the rest of his miserable life in solitude. He wept sorrowful tears when he told his story (or so the nurse later claimed when she sold out to the nearest news outlet to relate the tale). Journalists went to surround Neil. Neil confirmed the story.

Some people tried to muster sympathy for Neil. Hardly anyone succeeded and most people lost interest in a few weeks. At least until the release of the final version of Josiah Swanson’s book, Neal the Missionary, Neil the Outcast. The book sold well, but it received poor reviews because it was more about Neil than about Neal.

Most everyone just lost interest and went home at night, locked their doors, and tried not to think about how the world was mostly oversized and generally too scary. Neal had been a light, but Neil had stamped that light out. Most people couldn’t have even told you about how Neil ended up living in and becoming a productive member of a small Swiss town in the Alps.

Meanwhile, a boy in Peru who had recently been cured of cancer had a most wonderful thought about how he could make the world a better place.

Neal

When Neal the alien from outer space first arrived on Earth, he astonished the world in his first appearance on television by announcing that yes, indeed, God exists in truth, and that he had proof. This caused quite a stir across the Earth for the ten days Neal remained with us.

Immediately, those with a fervent awareness of the Creator's name tried their hardest to find out if this scaly alien was actually a false prophet. "After all," they pointed out, "if he really knew the Creator, he would also know his name." In reply, Neal pointed out that he was merely using the common vernacular of Earth to reference a 'mighty one' and that furthermore, due to his alien language and severe accent, they had undoubtedly misinterpreted what he had said. These people noted that he had spoken English. In response, Neal said, "Exactly."

Upon being theologically satisfied, the more religious people of Earth carefully examined how they should best follow the new teachings of this stranger. In his announcement, they realized, he had used the word 'indeed' to describe God's existence. That is, in deed--and with hardly any need for faith--God could be found. So the men circumcised themselves, the women started wearing full head coverings and veils, and everyone went on their merry way. The apostle Paul churned in his grave.

The conspiracy theorists and ufologists took a somewhat different approach to Neal, though it was found to be just as loud. They pointed out to the media that this alien and supposed do-gooder looked very much like a reptilian and therefore couldn’t be trusted. Every word he spoke was a lie, and that in the real truth, it was all an intergalactic conspiracy to overtake the world from the inside. To quell their concerns, Neal explained that his scaly reptilian appearance was simply due to dry skin and besides, he was obviously acting alone. The conspiracy theorists answered by saying, "Clearly his denial of the truth is enough evidence that the truth is true, so we must admit that the great deception has finally arrived." Neal made no comments about the irony of their statements, and so the media became bored with this new angle of the story.

But just when things appeared as if they were about to calm down, the secular politicians of the world caused the biggest uproar. Regardless of any theological, philosophical or otherwise tricky statement this alien decided to make, he needed to be controlled, and so for two and a half days, World War III was fought for the rights of one nation to have sole authority to give this strange being over to the international community of scientists. Unfortunately, when the smoke and the fanatics cleared, it was discovered that no one actually knew where Neal had wandered off to during the battle.

In no time at all, he was tracked to South America, where he was visiting a small Peruvian boy who was sick with cancer. The authorities quickly ran to apprehend Neal, and they were mostly successful in doing so. However, as they grabbed him from the sick boy's bedside, Neal reached out one last time to comfort the boy. As he reached out, he lost his balance, tripped over someone's boot toe, and fell backwards, hitting his head forcefully on a cinderblock in the corner. He was killed by the impact.

Thus ended the ten-day period of Neal the space alien, which was later to be memorialized in the factual account written by Josiah Swanson, entitled, Neal, If Only We Knew Him Better, followed by the bestselling sequel, The Importance of Protective Headgear. And soon enough, things began to return to normal, with Neal's claims that God definitely exists becoming what seemed to be no more than—except for those who had been circumcised—a faint memory of a brief moment of clarity. A great candle, people said, had been held high in the darkness of the times. What beauty, what beauty! they cried.

Sadly, no one ever got around to asking him about his proof.

The Tale of King Frosch

Once upon an imagination, in a place some distance from here, and yet somehow near, past the great green field and beyond the evergrow tulips, there lived a frog named King Frosch.

King Frosch was the leader of the frogs in the pond.  Every day he would gather all the frogs together on the shore and demand that they bring him food to eat.  “I’m hungry!” he would scream, and the other frogs would rush to bring him food.  This occurred multiple times daily.

To find so much food, the frogs would scour the surrounding forest and meadow, and when those supplies ran out they would send one or two of their swiftest jumpers and head over to the human market in town.  There, they could snatch some food from the vendors when no one was looking.  It was a dangerous job, but it sufficed.

As a result of King Frosch’s tyranny, the rest of the frogs were very glad for every winter when it became time to hibernate.  They were all glad for some much needed rest from all the hard work of pleasing King Frosch.

One winter, in the middle of the night while all of the frogs were hibernating, King Frosch suddenly bellowed out, “I’m hungry!”  Nobody stirred.  They hoped it was just a bad dream. King Frosch cried out again, “I’m hungry!!!”  A couple frogs moved in their beds, and the rest of them knew then that there was no escaping King Frosch.  “Come feed me now!!” he screamed.

And so the rest of the frogs rose from their sleep to find a way to feed King Frosch.  This was no easy task, as the area was covered in snow and ice. No nearby brush would provide any sustenance.  The only things not hibernating or dormant were various sharp-eyed predators desperately searching the cold night for a good meal.

After much deliberation with the shouts of King Frosch in the background, the frogs decided to attempt the market in town, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night.

So two brave frogs made their way through the wintry dark and hopped toward the market.  The market was quite empty at this time of night, as all the people were snuggled away in their warm houses and beds.  All the market stalls were closed.  Still, the frogs managed to find a cluster of frozen grapes outside the house of the local winemaker.

They brought some of the grapes back to King Frosch, who eyed them carefully before partaking.  He had never eaten a frozen grape before.  The whole community of frogs watched nervously as King Frosch popped a grape into his mouth.  He sucked on the grape for a few moments, and then chewed and swallowed.

“How delicious!” he said.  “More!”

And so King Frosch ate all the frozen grapes that the frogs had brought him.  For the time being, he was satisfied and went back to sleep.  The rest of the frogs, much relieved, went to find their own beds.  However, their relief only lasted for one day.  The next night, King Frosch woke again and demanded more food.  Wearily, the two frogs from the night before journeyed to obtain more frozen grapes.

Trudging through the snow on the way back, one of the frogs got the idea to try one of the frozen grapes to see if it was any good, seeing as how King Frosch had quite enjoyed the grapes.  The frog very much enjoyed the frozen grape as well.

“You know,” said the frog, “we could make some good money selling these grapes.”

“You’re right!” said the other frog.  “We could sell them at the market for a good profit, and then we could buy as much food as we need to satisfy King Frosch.  Neither he nor us would ever be hungry again!”

Happy with their immense discovery and business plan, the frogs returned to King Frosch.  They first gave him the grapes, and then they told him their idea.  King Frosch liked both.

So when spring arrived, King Frosch set his frogs to work developing a flash freeze machine and locating a sustainable supply of grapes.  They soon accomplished both of these things and took their product to market.  The product was initially met with varied success, but it nonetheless created enough revenue to provide the frogs with an abundant food supply.

Things really took off when a young entrepreneurial investor from New Jersey visited the small town market and discovered frozen grapes.  He thought to himself, “What if I froze grape juice around a small wooden stick?”

And that, boys and girls, is how we came to have grape-flavored popsicles.

The end.

Also, the frogs lived happily ever after under the tyranny of King Frosch.

Roving Star

It’s not just the distance traveled,
That taught us to become friends,
But also the knowledge that always
We would stay together till the end.

Moving light in the night sky tells
Of a sign of the beauty we have here
At the journey’s end of the beginning,
A new adventure drawing near.

Campfire, friends and solution found,
We look on to the peace of finding.
Fir trees, stars and tranquil fields,
Let us tarry here in the evening.

And when they come looking for you to carry you away—
Stay calm.
Remember your life below.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 28.

Below the Land

The raging torrent comes for me again,
A wild avalanche of razor sharp lines
With fever and sickness crawling through
My legs and my arms, a fire drawing
From somewhere deep within,
My heart ready to burst at the fear
That it’s far too much to ever contain.

Please let it stop, let the underground waters
Keep me far from the hot flames
That rapture at the edges of my mind
And fly far out beyond who I am,
Threatening to drive out past my fingertips
And toward those I care for on the shore
Here in the torch-lit cavern below the land.

And yet, this is who I must become,
Alone to the rest of the world who can’t
Ever know these tremors that carry me
Out past who I’ve ever been before now—
This is my strength and my ability,
To light up the sky with fire
Or to drain it all down to finest point.

Tie it off, hold on to the sour fire
Until it stops and turns to strength,
As the water cools and calms and radiates
Away the worst of the heat and fear,
So now the water is under my control
Along with the joy of this whole world
Here in the torch-lit cavern below the land.

_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 27.

To Let Come What May

We’ve come so far across the lands,
To see now lakes calmed somehow
Beneath the trees that wait for
You to become who you’re meant to be.
And I still fear now that it’s all too much
For your little self to handle
In the great world under shadows
Of the mountains and dark waves.
And yet I find that I must let you go
To take hold of the greater wonders
That shine up from within you
And show us all something beyond us.
But still I want you to know for sure
And never have in your mind a doubt,
That I will care for you forever,
Even when the sun goes out.

_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 26.

Action and Consequences

The great burden is not the fevers
Or the tremors late at night
Or even the length of the journey
To find a solution to our troubles.

It’s not overwhelming nature of the power
Or the misunderstanding of these abilities
By all those around us who are afraid
That this could be the end of their lives.

But rather it’s the consequences of my actions
And the unknown results of what I do
When I change things for better or for worse,
All good intentions mattering little in the aside.

So what do I have to do to understand my actions?
I will learn everything I can, and I will take hold of this strength.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 25.

The Great Changer War

Clashing of mighty power
Tearing down the heights
Fomenting war’s beating drum
Picking battles and finding fights
Terrible torture of the dark ones
Quiet abstinence of the light
Fighting for home and nation
Finding difficult what is right

They come now to Quake Town
Determined to end this endeavor
Battling for nation or evil intentions
Knowing this can’t go on forever
They whittle down their numbers
To only a few banded together
And one who sacrifices himself
To ensure life in the land isn’t severed

Take to heart this lesson
That there are bad and loyal and good
Your heart is caught between
Using your abilities as you would
And the cry for release from struggle
When you already know you should
Control these longings for freedom
Even though you know you never could

For the sake of your friends and the world.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 24.

Out There in the Dark

Tremors in the night—
The non-terrors are full wonders.
To mold the water and the dripping faucet
Must be to carve my future from the stone.

I can discover what rages within—
Push it down beneath my bones and skin.
Fill up for yourself peace at my persistence,
Knowing I must resolve my own heart.

Out there in the distance—
I can feel more than anyone else.
The rising fire of past things lost to us
Will be, I promise, the worst of our heartache.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 23.

Nearing Journey's End

The green leaves nearly glow
In the hilly land near the mountains,
Traveling south to the smoldering peak,
Where the rising smoke is our sign

We draw inspiration for the smallest
Among our weary group of souls,
Find no room to complain about anything
When our struggle cannot compare

Nearly to the end of this journey,
Or at least this portion of the travels,
Not yet sure what to think when
You show me pursed lips and a cold shoulder

Regardless, we must carry on now,
Approaching the final stretch,
Trees lift us up as we search out
The location of the man at Mt. Sull
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 22.

My Love for You Isn't Safe

If I had known from the beginning
That my love for you isn’t safe,
I wouldn’t have told you how thankful
I am for how much you care for
Doing the right thing and protecting
The good and the true and me.

I would have lay awake under the stars
And drifted to sleep thinking about
Someone other than you.

But now danger has come to remind me again
Of all that could go wrong when we
Lack the focus that is stolen
When we let our emotions carry away
Our sensibility and awareness
Of the traps closing in around us.

I wouldn’t have come to you last night
To feel the pull and strength of your arms,
Had I know that my love for you isn’t safe.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 21.

Smoldering

The dark forest where we run
With burning sticks from fires gone
Hearts ablaze and about to burst
Memory rising to the surface to scare
Away the feelings of awe as we touch
Careening toward accusations
Unable to prevent the fear
But let us draw near to the villain
And root out the screams we hear
Into the flickering we fly at the beasts
Gleaming steel shearing the flesh
And the guttural cry of lighting up
Like a glowing log in the furnace
Smoking out our hearts with terror

And at the end of the night,
We are exhausted, shivering, bleeding, weeping,
And once more left alive.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 20.

The Pain of Memory

Don’t you remember what it was like,
Back before you knew about this life,
When every day was an exploration,
And not just a waving voyage to a fight.

what I remember
is the blood on the floor
cries of horror from the door
the pain of tragedy for hours
and feeling sick at the flowers
they picked to remember
what I hoped to forget

So watch out for the worse things still,
And if you won’t, then trust that I will.

what need is there to watch
for the gripping fear that is before me
in the daylight when I still see
the sight of those lifeless eyes beneath
staring up and condemning me
for what I can’t bear to speak about
even so far out beyond that life

So let us stand tall against this together.
but I can’t while I fear I’ll remember forever
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 19.

Once We've Passed Safely Through

I once read it in a book,
But I’ve never seen it with my own eyes,
Not that I’m one who denies
The chance to go have a look.

Guide us down through the deep woods,
Watching out for the Thura cats,
Now as we go take our chance,
Traveling south, wondering if we should.

Because I trust you, if he trusts you, if she trusts you
Now to run with us unimpeded,
And our contract is done and completed
Once we’ve gone and passed safely through.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 18.

The Sheer Fury

How do you express it?
That sheer fury at the terror of life,
When everything is just looking up,
And then you remember the ones
Who were left behind in the red
Dying sun of the northern sky.
The anger that comes in the warm night,
In the coldness of a scarred heart,
For the never ending distress of
A frightened mind in the dark waves.
Cheer above that frustration, I say,
But I can’t anymore as I lay
In bed and cry myself to sleep for those
That I left behind in the orange
Of the blazing moon of the starry field.
I scream out at you for justice
Because you’re the only one who listens
To everything I speak
And every pain my heart cries.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 17.

Running Toward

The low rumble of the world below us
Dreams of escape trying to rise up
Through the dust of our shaken day
With nowhere left to run but toward
The danger of the risk of exploding
Like a sunburst in the sky of clouds
Or the moonbeams in the drawing night
With starlight fading to shimmering points

Dried up salt lakes don’t worry me
When I know we started by climbing
Over the mountains to find the desert
The extreme lifeline to the wells beneath
But it ain’t for thirst that I dwell on
Finding a path to the screaming answer
That breaks down the boulders in our way
Or the trouble trembling up from the ground
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 16.

Still Leaping Heart

The oddest idea I can think of right now
Is that there might be romance in the stars,
With the way they dance in ordered spins,
Rising and falling as the night passes on.

In the lightless forest we linger for a moment,
The touch of your hand on my shoulder,
Making me wonder about purpose—
Can there be something great in such a small notion?

As the wind that passes through the trees,
So the thoughts rustle through my head
When I see you feeding my soul with your smile,
As warm as the broth that strengthens my limbs.

Twilight is still just enough illumination,
Even away from the hot fire we know we must kindle,
To see the honesty of a friend in the shadows,
And I trust you would catch, with ease, my still leaping heart.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 15.

Decision and Risk

I remain behind the safety
And comfort of what I have here,
Soft pillows and renewed strength
And the dissipation of my fear.

To stumble out into the green and gray
World of the unknown and unexplored,
It takes at least the confident urging
Of friends with assurance as they implored.

But it’s not from their reasoning
That I find myself convinced to take the risk,
But rather because of the call to explore
The possible paths to understanding this.

Health for myself and more importantly
The safety of those who surround me,
These must be the reasons that call
Me to travel back out among the trees.

I don’t know if it could possibly be the truth
Or the only path available for me,
But I will continue to carry on for the good
Whenever or not they mention prophecy.

And to explore must be the great call
That pulls me up from sleep to sunshine,
For the risk will be worth it if I can find
A way to help me and these friends of mine.
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 14.

Can You Survive Who You Become?

So here we go into the bright sunrise
Floating waters toward the ceiling
Laughing for the renewed healing
Bring about a lifetime of learning newness
This amazing trial showing a promise
Of the incredible things around the bend
Where the corner is illuminated in dust
And the elderly are always on our side
The prophecies to tell us we can stand tall
In danger now that we know even more
But we have to tell her of the difficulty
Though what challenge has she not faced
Marching to the mountains and beyond
Fearing no more as the dark pain subsides
So lift up the curtain of our mystery
Find the answers at the smoking peak
Of how we might survive this circling fight

_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 13.

Entering Pass Town

The yellow sun rises once again
over the dry terrain of this land.
So let’s rest for a little while,
if we can in such a sandy place.
Just enough water for the sparse green
and almost enough to satisfy.

Take what you need and don’t let them see,
if at night you take more than your share.
A people so friendly in this desert place,
until you want more of what is rightfully theirs.
Where we go next is a mystery yet,
but for now may this dust be called home.

With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 12.