The ShambElla Saga
Being an Introduction by the Author and a Table of Contents for The Story of Shamblin' Sam and Ella, Queen of the Damned
Introduction
I've long had a fascination with the transformative power of decay. I recall as a child walking the streets of my neighborhood here on the East Side of Indianapolis, as I still do to this day. Indianapolis is what I've heard some describe as a "Swiss Cheese Ghetto". The East Side, especially, has some swanky gentrified communities nestled in between trash-ridden and crime-riddled neighborhoods. One can hear gunshots a few blocks away while they pay for their venti pumpkin spice latte!
On my walks, I often stop to marvel at decrepit, condemned houses, how time weighed down their bones and wore their color away. Even as a young child, something in this degenerative process called to me, but it was only recently that full awareness dawned on me as to why.
You see, it's somewhat a curse, this fascination. When I first read of the Buddhist monks who meditate on decaying corpses to understand the transitory nature of nature, I found, at that point, the closest thing to what I seem to do naturally, for as long as I can remember; and for as long as I can remember, it puts people off after awhile, this obsession of mine with picking holes in things, looking beyond the life that rots away and into that which remains.
So... why, Rommi, why?!?
The way I am about to frame the answer to this question, you can take however you prefer: as a metaphor or a literal truth. It doesn't matter, it amounts to the same.
Life cannot transform without Death, and The Divine urges me to expose the beauty of transformation so that those who must die will not lose heart.
I have done a poor job of reflecting this in my art up until recently, preferring rather to wallow in grotesquery for its own sake. Splatterpunk and gore definitely has its place, and as an 80s kid in the slums, I grew up loving it; so I am not here to tell others what to create. I describe in this Vocal Top Story to some extent what that experience was like; but, for me, this is a dead end.
For me, I explore the horrors of the world to show a way out, not to encourage wallowing.
Enter The ShambElla Saga. As I wrote the first story, Shamblin' Sam, I was only thinking of it as a one-off, but by the time I finished it I had a strong feeling that Sam and Ella had more to tell me, a lot more, and then, upon publishing, impeccable literary artist Rachel Deeming suggested I should, and this nudge pushed me into Sam and Ella's postapocalyptic world full-tilt, which, dear reader, due to my life as a factory hand and my peaceable Mr. Miyagi style of curating my prose, might not be too fast; but I hope the stories will be interesting enough to keep you checking in on me from time to time!
As Nietzsche remarked: "Interruptions are the ravens which bring food to the recluse."
The portmanteau of Shamblin' and Ella is, I am not really at all ashamed to say, a mystical dad joke, referencing the sanskrit term shambhala.
As for choosing my song Nocturne as a frontispiece for this introduction, this sad song indicates where we start, not where we end. This is the part of the transformation that hurts the most, and it won't even save us from more pain to come, but it will also free us, like an empty chalice, to receive more joy.
So, without further ado, I give you the stories, in order, for The Shambella Saga, which I will update as time goes on, either until the tale, or myself, is finished.
***** * *****
Nocturne
Broken spirit,
Bleeding light
Would not give in
Without a fight.
Torn asunder,
Free at last
From the demons
Of the past.
<>
It seems that everything dies.
<>
Is it true love
If not the truth?
Wishful thinking
Damned our youth.
About the Creator
C. Rommial Butler
C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.
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"Hear Me Out"
"Hear me out, what if we ran away together?" "Where do you want to go?" "Anywhere but here. We could move to a new city or to Canada, or we could disappear from society to live in the middle of the woods. Maybe a combination of two of those things would be good. What do you say?"
By Kay Husnick6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (23)
You are a master craftsman and I am so excited to read this saga!
Well-wrought (and I mean that wholeheartedly). I may well have to check out this Shambella Saga. I like the artwork of the pieces already. Aha, nothing wrong or odd with being intrigued by decay - we all have our likes. Also, "One can hear gunshots a few blocks away while they pay for their venti pumpkin spice latte!" - I don't know if I should laugh or worry.
A deep exploration of decay, transformation, and finding meaning.
I haven't started reading these yet, but I wanted to say that I enjoyed the introduction and I'm glad you gathered the stories here. I'll be partaking soon. I was relieved to read your shambhala reference, since the Three Dog Night song, "Shambala" started playing in my mind the moment I read your title. Onward!
I don't think I've started these yet. I plan to set time aside to do that properly, in order, and give them the attention they deserve 😁
I'm excited to dive into this series. Just the introduction was enrapturing. Maybe I should say engrossing.
"Impeccable literary artist" made me laugh but also preen. Thanks, Rommi. I'm here and I'm reading. I will start at the very beginning although I recall it a bit, but a revisit is always good. And off I go. Prepare yourself for likes and comments. And that Nietzsche quote? Well, I'm going to be mulling that over and over for a bit.
I remember how the school kids were so excited to watch things decay for their homework. I mean. the argument for burial and not cremation uses our decayed corpses for renewal of the soil. Decay is a part of our existence. always a pleasure to read your work.
Love the insight on decay. Aspects of which I've never made a connection to, or motivated to take a deeper dive. "Interruptions are the ravens which bring food to the recluse." 😮
Well done
A different story with mixed emotions. Well-written, masterfully presented as a fertile philosophical journey that characterizes deeply thoughtful people.
Well written, I loved it Thanks for this beautiful story
I will have to check out this series - it sounds most interesting. Congratulations on the Top Story, too!
Back to say congratulations on your Top Story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
I have saved this post so I can catch up on the series. Congrats on the TS.
Congrats!!
I have been thinking a lot on life and death...what's it all for and who remembers when we go. But I like the thought of examination, as you describe it, from watching as things deteriorate (buildings and such) and how quickly and unbiased nature reclaims it. I will be following your journey.
well written
I am for myself deeply soothed by the thought that I get to rot and return to the earth and from there to all things. That said, I'll probably end up cremated...
Hehehehehe I'm soooo excited for the next part! I'm so grateful for Rachel as well, else I would have never gotten more of this story. Thank you so much for writing it!
Loved it!!!❤️❤️💕
It is always great ot have some background into the life of an author, yours adds to the stories and poems you create. This series is something I believe I will explore
I appreciate the context that you have thoughtfully provided here of the central importance of entropy and its maturing influence on your art, Rommi, and I loved the poem. I look forward to follow your series as it develops. I have also written on the subject of entropy although not on this platform, and am personally intrigued by the transience of all things even very ancient things like the universe and its stars and planetary objects. Some dream of the future eternity of human flesh, and although I fear the oblivion or what might follow death, I fear even more the ravages of time to this mortal chalice still bearing my life force. I’m old enough now that its markers appear clearly in my flesh. And although I’m still happy, the miseries of old age now exist firmly on the fringes.