iii. The Ebony Tower

The tower was built of ideas and lives, missing puzzle pieces from games and magazines, and a strong sense of irony. A collage made of memory chucks with held sensation, the tower stands an unspecific distance into the sky, at least noticable on the horizon from three miles away. There are, according to Mandra, 7 senses humans have and she packed in everything she could think about them in this tower. "Ebony" is a joke she told that no one got, because no one heard it. It's not made of ivory, you see. At the base and beneath is the proverbial dungeon for tactile sense, an input Mandra said was the basest of human stimuli, and at the top, where she lived, was emotion, the only reactive sense.

Here she spun stories that became reality, and tho the world she inhabits is said to have the tower built in it, what actually happened was the world was built around the tower. It was a seed that birthed her world, Mash'ta, holding with in heaven and hell. Dichotomy, once again. Mandra LOVES dichotomy and her stories reflect this.

The tower has worshipers above and below split into two groups; The White Maidens and the Red Guard. They are the priestesses and military respectively, all women. I asked Mandra why the one sex and she said women take the time to feel (whatever that means. I'm not even sure if that's a reflection of my sexist thoughts or hers. A frequent problem).

Each group practices three principals (six total). The White Maidens govern Empathy, Equivalence, and Sum. The Red Gaurd embraced Control, Tactics, and Priority. These words are mine, not hers, because each of those principals revolve around sensation and inner freedom. Mandra, if I let her loose at the keyboard, could and would write a novel for each of these six words.

Example: the concept of Tactics in a sensual meaning could be about the plans one holds on their next meal, their next sexual partner, or the next book they read. It's more about digging deep down to discover one's true wants and not just the short term desires of day to day living. Want always exists, even if it's want for no want. If life is a collection of symbols and memories, then picking and choosing our desires is as important as remembering our experiences, both good and bad. There's more to it, but that's enough for now.

I'll go into the Principals more if you really want, but not right now.

iv. Second Incarnation

After her second Childhood, Mandra really became a force in my life. I started noticing little things leaking out that she would say and I wouldn't, but never let on. As far and anyone else was concerned, it was Mike just being random like Mike always was. The stranger parts would be when I found drawings or letters on the computers I don't remember creating. And, of course, the best way to render her voice was in drawing since that's what I do.

Somewhere in the world there is a sketch book I sold that has conversations between me and Mandra. Other voices surfaces, but none were as loud as the Living Goddess. The two other main voices are Mr. Brimstone, a force for wrong, and Adria, the forgotten Goddess of Forgiveness. I think my friend Rick once called them a "trinity thing," but that didn't take in account my own voice. I was, after all, God of my own mind, so I was the "Pentis Devinis" (my own words for over-God) and they were the Sub-Devinis (four voices).

Also, at the time, I was experimenting with mental processes such as Memory Palaces and such. My palace was called the Church of Notes where I stored music that I can remember even to this day. At the front of the church, above the altar and beyond the pews, was a statue of Mandra made of wood sprouting 8 arms. Each arm held a specific sign I attributed to one of the 8 virtues of the Avatar. This'll be important later on.

Mandra became obsessed over sensation and started coming up with proverbs for her people. They were little words of dogmatic wisdom like "Kiss once a day, even if it's just the ground." and "Do one thing a day that scares you. Do one thing a day that scars you." My favorite is "Everything should be savored."

It was also this time when she started making deals. Mandra adores the idea of trade. Lifetimes for everything. Sacrifices for wishes. Cosmic Tit for tat. I could tell plenty of stories about the lives she's changes for one reason or another; A woman giving up all her worldly goods for the true love of her life or Two lovers who leaped sit under a tree in exile, lost but happy. This also became important later on.

Each of us had a headquarters, a home in the head, that represented our individual philosophies and sense of humor in godly fashions. I had my Church of Notes. Brimstone had a cathedral built of agony where the worse torture came to life. Adria had her garden and greenhouse growing questions she fed to her "Y-Bird" Kass Kass. And Mandra? She had a tower of Ebony.

v. Second Childhood

The child was born to one of the loyal worshipers of Mandra with markings over the eyes and white hair. In growing, she was hurt, but loved. She read so many books, many of which were diaries of the lost goddess of Evil and Innocence. She never saw a tree, nor a man, nor the sun. Her bed was made of hey and chains to hold her in place.

There was no freedom except in the words of her predecessor, the stretching of imagination, the strange love of the order. She thought to herself she was being punished for who she once was, but also given a chance to choose what she would do with this abuse, if misuse it was. Here she learned that there are many kinds of freedom.

At 12, she read the last diary of the Lost Goddess. In the end, she realized that the whole of her upbringing was her own doing. The order was little more than a tool following previous program of her former self. She threw away the chains and the hey and the library to start anew and claim the gold thrown left over.

When she touched the gold seat, it turned to thorns so she would always remember redemption. She sat and began the second coming of her religion, this time younger, older, and all together wiser.

At this point Mandra really became a voice in my head that wouldn't be still. Everything I spent with her and we talked about everything, everyone, and everywhen. She told me what happened to her as a brand new Goddess and I told her the boring tails of working at Subway Salads and Sandwiches.

Fair trade, I guess.

vi. Redemption of the First incarnation

It was Mandrake's doing, but no one, especially Mandra at the time, knew it. There was a temple built on the ruins of a old house in Southern Randoria, near the Banishment Zone. It was simple and small, like a stone gazebo, and inside was a glass coffin. Encased was a naked woman who had markings on her left and right eyes, her hair white, and a red line that bisected her from forehead to crotch.

A farm boy found it, once. No one claimed responsibility for the lovely woman inside or explained why she was there, so the boy took it on himself to care for her once a week. He brought flowers, he cleaned out weeds, he polished the glass, and he left.

A year after the small temple's discovery the glass cracked and chipped away. The woman inside awoke to a tabula rasa. She had a language that matched the country she was in and a tornado of disjointed images in her head.

The boy's family realized she had been enchanted and was in need of help, so they took care of her. In return, with nothing else to do but think, she helped on the farm.

Teaching Mandra humility is ridiculous. She held no honor in power, except to try and right perceived wrongs, but this was a family that held no wrongs. They were honest and hard workers who showed compassion for those who had less. They took from the land what they sewed and gave surplus to those in need. They laid no blame on problems that didn't exist. It wasn't about humility, it was about stability.

The memories eventually healed and slowly, Mandra realized the world she had been trying to "fix" wasn't as broken as she once thought. There was more to humanity than her experiences, so experience must be the cure to her poisoned past. This epiphany all but disbanded her believers when she returned. She looked different and her words changed. Black could not be white, and why would you want it to be? There are children who were not abused and parents who were proud of their daughters.

After centuries of single minded dogma, she had changed almost 180 on her followers beliefs.

To the small group of loyals left she had were given instructions. She left a library of books and diaries, a dungeon cell, and a thrown of gold and walked, literally walked, into death.

vii. First Incarnation

Mandrake as my handle had his own story. He was wed, he had kids, they were mortal. Whatever. He had no lasting power in my mind because he didn't fulfill any need beyond feeling powerful. Something I found I could do under my own name anyway. It may be late in the game to claim it, but I've always said I am God of my own mind.

Still the Darkness and I would have plays in my bed, and Mandra's incestuous nature had it's place. This is probably why I can't bring myself to jerk off to pictures of Mandra I've drawn, despite their obvious sexual implications and/or suggestive poses. Unlike her first incarnation, I find nothing truly arousing in my siblings. Ew.

But the plays went on, and eventually, the Darkness started calling herself Mandra. I was about 13 when I remember this really taking root. The stories that followed suddenly meant more. Jung would have called her Anima, but I'm not so sure, myself. If I were so simple I could understand myself, I'd be too simple to understand anyway.

The Reign of Mandra over Randoria almost alway put the world in peril due to her mad logic and selfish philanthropy. The ultimate wisdom of Mandra, back then, was that numbness outweighed sensation and her followers were willing to torture anyone who thought otherwise to teach them either wisdom in death (or not being) or to transcend pain and uncover truth.

Mandra's philosophies at the time could be summed up in one word: Dichotomy. She struggled, back then, to turn black to white, death to life, pain to pleasure, hate to love, etc. Shades of gray were for cowards. It was the extremes that needed switching and the middle groud was to be ignored.

In her castles, because she never tarried in the Godly realms, she eventually disappeared without notification. I was 18.

viii. Before she was a Goddess

Me and my quasi-brother, Little Mike, would come up with stories and generally bullshit around. We both had our fictional countries on our fictional world called Terra, and each had our tales that took place in our countries.

My land was Randoria and I wasted no time coming up with Gods to rule and rule over. Gods, of course, need origins, and this one was Mandra's:

In Southern Randoria, near the Banishment Zone, there was a house where twins were born to a wealthy family. They were Mandrake and Mandra. Mandrake was given attention and pride, trained to be the best fighter and wisest strategist. Mandra was ignored or beaten, to be hidden from public or locked in the basement.

Late at night, in a near by gazebo Mandrake and Mandra would talk. Mandrake would defend his sister, and she loved him for that, but they were young and had little power over Mother and Father at the time.

Finally, when both were of age, Mandrake knew he must go to war, but would not leave his sister unattended by his parents. So at the gazebo, he told Mandra of an abandoned barn nearby and a way she could escape her parents. He would not be there to defender her, but she would be free.

They split ways.

After the war, Mandrake returned, with word from his sister that she would wait for him at the Gazebo. Many year have passed, and the two had not contacted each other for all that time. From Mandra's letter, Mandrake thought she was ready to confront their parents for their injustice against her, but would need him for strength.

When he returned, it was not at their meeting place he found Mandra, rather she waited inside their family home, covered with the blood of their parents. She spoke only to say they were both free, then turned her bloody affections onto him, as lover and not just as sister. He refused and left disgusted, but she was never detour away from following him as a prospective mate. Only in her second incarnation did she quit him.

In the time they were separated again, Mandrake amassed an army of soldiers under his commands and eventually worshipers as a great leader. He became his own God, teaching wisdom in battle. Mandra amassed her collection of the mad, the lost, and the abused. She was known as the Goddess of Evil and Innocence.

Mandrake was, of course, my avatar at the time, being a plant I once read from a spell book that came with Ultima IV by Origin. It made sense to me to have a female counterpart, tho I'm slightly embarrassed the most original name I could pop out was the same with only the last two letter's chopped off. I thought I was more clever than I was.

At this point, Mandra did not talk to me.

ix. Talking to Nothing

Unfortunately, memory is more malleable than we'd like to believe as every time we remember something we alter is just slightly. This history of Mandra is something I've thought quite a lot about. As such, the true origins will forever be shrouded in inaccuracies as I'm not just remembering facts rather they are thoughts and conversations I've had with myself both audibly and not. This will have to be, as Douglas Adams once put it, an "officially inaccurate history."

The reason I bring it up is because to understand Mandra, you need to know how the voice formed in my head. She was not really the results of trauma, as is the case with most MPD, rather she was grown from a hand full of circumstances; The two mains one's being a story I once told and a "nothing" I once talked to.

Have patience, please. These beginnings were the creations of a 12 and 13 year old mind and are ripe with cliches and silliness that is often spawned from such a young mind. We'll start with the Darkness I talked to.

I'll never know where the idea came from, but I've attributed it to the line from the Neverending Story; "We got bored so we started talking to ourselves." I was alone at night in Springhill Oklahoma and started talking to nothing and it answered back in my own voice. I called it the Darkness and found it was female. Although I do not remember it, I think I knew it was me talking back, but what's the fun in pretending that?

So the darkness and I spoke in whispers, making sure no one else heard us. This was not long after moving to Springhill in a flat ranch home on the now parking lot Denver Court. The move to Husband Street had the voice follow me, but took form as one of the many characters I would fantasize about.

Sex, of course, was on the minutes, but not as much masturbation as you would think. After all, what is there to fap to? She was a voice. I had Magritte paintings and Clock Work Orange to fulfill those needs.

(picture is the Evening Gown by Rene Magritte)