THE DEIFICATION OF NADIE

One of the groups of humans was returning to their village

after guffawing and laughing at the misery of Stîf and Laîf

at the expense of the siblings. The group divulged the tale to

the other locals in the village, near the residents' square homes,

humble adobe abodes constructed out of bricks formed from

the moist mud of the earth and dried from the heat of the sun.

Inside these houses are plastered surfaces featuring painted designs

of members of the family, of various of the Jólian gods, each

featured for the appropriate prayers and needs of the residents,

whether it be for good crops or the health of their family, and special

floor designs, including plaid, hexagonal patterns, and rustic style.

In one of these stone houses, there resided a man by the name

of Nadie, a cantankerous, old, elderly man who held an extreme

dislike towards everything modern simply for not being the past

but instead the present, and the adults controlling all, those filthy

peasants who dare want a better life and economic prosperity.

The thoughts and feelings of Nadie would ultimately align with

those to all men, all women, and all beings that reside in the East.

Nadie was in his home reminiscing about the days of order, when all

made logical sense, back when there was still slavery of minorities,

angry about young people existing. Then, as quickly as the tide rises

when Mun gets close to Òchen and how rapidly the sea sets when

the moon retreats further away from the ocean, the life of Nadie

came to an abrupt end.

The terrifying son of black Dãrc, son of broad Ürt who carries

all of man on her belly and bosoms, arrived on the scene to

take Nadie's spirit away from his body and into Onsîn, the

realm of Onsîn the blood-born.

None in the village noticed what had happened to Nadie until

ten days after the event, when the denizens noticed that he was

suddenly stopping complaining about how women should stay

dressed in less revealing clothing than lengthy rags that cover

every single inch of their bodies, leaving no corner uncovered.

They had discovered the lifeless corpse of Nadie. Now they all

had the issue of what to do with it. Several hours of deliberation

among themselves produced no ideas or solutions.

Suddenly, one of the members produced a thought on what to do

with the body. The rest of the group, unable to produce any other

concepts or answers, decided to go ahead with it.

The idea was this: carve a sharp blade out of a stone, use it to

tear the skin, muscle, and tissue off the corpse to remove the

skeleton, take out the internal organs, and, using the plaster

made originally for the construction of the village's homes'

rooms, reconstruct the whole body, using seashells for the

eyes, and painting the areas where the hair earlier was.

This the group did. The plaster solidified. It looked almost

like Nadie, eerily so. The plastered body couldn't walk, or eat,

or converse, or spit at the young people whose most heinous

crime is just struggling to get by and be successful.

Again, the group had to make an important decision regard the

body of Nadie. They ultimately figured that as the realm of

Onsîn, home of the lord of the dead Onsîn, is located in the

land beneath the overground, it would make perfect sense that

the plaster-covered skeleton should be buried deep beneath the earth.

It would serve as a connection between the world of the living and

the world of the deceased, so the passed person could possibly

have effects on the lives on the surface of the earth.

After several decades, these practices soon became adopted throughout

the whole village, then to the village of Plen, and soon all life on earth.