The Undertaking
~ a note on the text from David ~
The Undertaking is an upcoming comic. Please enjoy the prose version here, and stay tuned for the art.
It’s a mild morning among the conifers. The stars have just sank beneath the horizon and the steady chirps and whistles in the wetland are beginning to tune themselves to the air. We see a wide shot of the bog nestled in tall pines and oaks, with someone’s commentary rudely invading the view.
PINE MARTEN
It’s definitely dead.
A sleek PINE MARTEN sniffs a human hand, its black nose and whiskers twitching. The hand belongs to a corpse, palms turned upward and laid face-up towards the sky. A juvenile LITTLE BLUE HERON, mottled blue-grey and white, uses one black claw to draw the lower eyelid down and examine the watery flesh inside.
HERON
I can see that.
PINE MARTEN
Great! I’m starved.
The PINE MARTEN has scrabbled its way up to the face, near where the HERON is perched, and bares its fangs to tear into the soft flesh of the ear. With its heavy bill, the HERON bats the PINE MARTEN upside the head before it can take a bite.
PINE MARTEN
Ow!
HERON
Don’t you have any manners? The Rules still apply even when it’s one of these things.
PINE MARTEN
Who put you in charge?
HERON
I’m sorry, but this is one thing you can’t shake me on. My mother always said “every little thing that lived”. She never made exceptions.
PINE MARTEN
Ugh. Fine. Waste of a day.
HERON
Come on. I think we can have a little fun with it.
The HERON leads them through the sun-dappled forest, beginning a trek over and through mossy logs on their way to the open water. They duck under berry bushes, scale lichen-laden stones, and tramp through old oak leaves.
PINE MARTEN
I have no idea what to bring it. What do those things even like?
HERON
Anyone’s guess. I thought I’d just go with what I want when I die.
PINE MARTEN
You finally figured it out?
HERON
Yeah, I had a hard time thinking of it. I feel so connected to everything at home. But I feel certain of it these days— irises. Irises and dragonflies.
An image of the HERON’s corpse accompanies his musing. It is laid peacefully in the marsh enrobed in its requests, an intentional tangle of the Blue Flag Irises that grow in its home, Blue Dasher dragonflies, the legs of old crab shells, and sprays of bright orange Butterfly Milkweed.
PINE MARTEN
Yeah, that makes sense for you. Very wishy-washy.
HERON
At least I think with my heart and not my stomach.
PINE MARTEN
Hey!
We see the PINE MARTEN’s body, paws cradled to its chest, laid in a soft mossy hollow. It is surrounded by many little fish, mostly sardines and Mummichog Minnows, wild cranberries, and oyster shells.
HERON
Your corpse is going to reek. You’ll have to let me cover it up with some honeysuckle or something, please. I’m not staying with you all night surrounded by rotting fish.
PINE MARTEN
Don’t go betting on dying before me. Your survival instincts aren’t the sharpest, buddy.
HERON
Well, if I get eaten, then you’re off the hook for decorating me, so count your blessings.
PINE MARTEN
Don’t say that.
We see an iris and dragonfly memorial in the marsh, clearly thoughtfully made. There is no body there, but it represents the HERON just as well. There is a space where it is missing, heavy and hollow.
The HERON and the PINE MARTEN make their way back into the forest where they found the corpse. They are now laden with thorny branches, juniper, young pines, irises, dragonflies, and fish. The items are carried in their jaws, in the talons of the HERON, or tied with fiddlehead ferns to the PINE MARTEN’s body.
The PINE MARTEN carries a sardine in its mouth.
PINE MARTEN
I can’t believe I have to give up my lunch for this.
HERON
Be a good sport. Hey— hey!
As they come upon the body, a large conglomerate of Black Vultures which have descended upon it are scared away. The HERON drops its baggage and flaps its wide wings to incite commotion and dispel them. The Vultures have barely broken skin but have torn away much of the body’s clothes, revealing a plethora of tattoos.
PINE MARTEN
Jeez. Seems like not everybody’s as passionate about the Rules as you— woah.
The PINE MARTEN is as struck as the HERON, and wordlessly they examine the body’s tattoos. To them, this is an altogether unknown phenomenon, yet terribly familiar, as the tattoos are a leger of natural elements, perhaps a Will of sorts.
Blackberry vines and snakes entangle the arms, small birds at the wrist, antlers and acorns on the collarbones. Many small details make up the whole.
PINE MARTEN
What is all this?
HERON
Seems to me like it did know what it wanted.
PINE MARTEN
This is sick. I think I know where to get some of this. Come on.
The PINE MARTEN and the HERON assist each other in gathering and placing each item from each tattoo. The PINE MARTEN entangles itself in a thicket of blackberries and pulls a laden branch with its teeth to place on the arm where the tattoo lies.
High on the swaying branch of a pine, the HERON watches as the PINE MARTEN stalks and swiftly kills a song sparrow to match the corpse’s wrist tattoo. They bring it back down to ground level and place it there.
HERON
You get to have all the fun.
PINE MARTEN (gesturing to a tattoo)
Well I’m not getting over my fear of snakes anytime soon, so that one’s all you, buddy.
In the marsh, the HERON catches a snake to place along the corpse’s other arm. It ducks underwater to search for shells and catch fish, which it tosses to the PINE MARTEN, who catches them in its teeth.
PINE MARTEN
What do you really think about the Rules, anyway? Your own opinion, not your mom’s. You think it makes life more meaningful?
HERON
No, of course not. What makes life meaningful is the fact that it isn’t. There’s no calling. There’s no permanence. There’s no greater good. There is only you in your body and the earth that will take you back.
The PINE MARTEN thinks for a moment.
PINE MARTEN
I guess what you do in between is your business.
At the rocky shore which feeds from the marsh, they gather oysters, mussel shells, seaweed, and old crab carcasses to align with the tattoos on the corpse’s ribs.
PINE MARTEN
Can we come back to the shore tomorrow? I’ve missed it here.
HERON
Of course. Tomorrow, the day is ours.
Some items are impossible to find and require makeshift solutions. The HERON can find only one deer antler in the forest to lay across the collarbones, so the PINE MARTEN places a juniper branch on the other side. An anatomical heart is replaced by a clump of moss in a similar shape. A pomegranate is replaced by a worm-eaten crabapple.
The sun is quickly setting.
PINE MARTEN
I know I’m taking some creative liberties, but how does this look?
The PINE MARTEN has dragged over two large pine branches and encircled the head, creating a wreath of outstretched pine rays.
HERON
Amazing. Just a couple finishing touches…
The HERON drags a spray of little flowers across the bridge of the nose.
HERON (cont.)
I’d say we did ourselves proud.
The corpse is laden with the gifts of the land, and the HERON and the PINE MARTEN sit on its chest and examine their work.
PINE MARTEN
Guh! I’m gonna sleep good tonight.
HERON
Oh, no you’re not. We can sleep first thing in the morning. Then it’s out of our hands. But we have to follow through.
The PINE MARTEN huffs.
PINE MARTEN
I’m only doing this for you.
HERON
Come on. Think about how mad you’ll be if we let some braindead coyote come and eat all our hard work. Would you let someone come scavenge my body?
PINE MARTEN
Don’t get soft on me.
HERON
I’ll take the first watch. Get a little bit of shut-eye. It’s going to be a long night.
The PINE MARTEN curls up on the cold sternum and shuts its eyes. The HERON stands for a wide–eyed watch.
The night sky is filled with stars and a moon so slight it is nearly new. Over the forest scape, we can hear something rustling and scraping about, getting closer and closer.
The PINE MARTEN’s eyes are closed and sleeping peacefully. But its ears twitch as it, too, hears the rustling. Its eye snaps open. It’s going to be a long night.