Jorge Luis Borges was a lot of things: writer, poet, librarian, Argentinean, blind. But I bet you didn’t know he was a compiler.
Indeed, he is the collator of a uniquely beautiful little volume, originally published in 1957: “The Book of Imaginary Beings.” It is filled with creatures ranging from the mythological (centaurs, dragons, unicorns, rocs—so on and so forth) as well as the literary (“An Animal Dreamed by Kafka,” for instance, as well as “A Crossbreed by Kafka” and the ever popular “Odradek by Kafka”) and just plain unusual (animals that live in the mirror, ink monkeys, the Squonk [whose claim to fame is being mentioned in a Steely Dan song] and the fulsomely terrifying hide-behind of lumberjack mythos).
And, as I’m sure you’ve often asked, why should Borges have all the fun? Surely there’s more monsters and imaginings than he included in his little volume. And right you are! For I have discovered—oddly enough, not in any library, but cached behind one of the State Street Brat monkeys—a warped little volume entitled “Bestiae Madisonae.” Alas, while most of the pages are illegible, there were a few I was able to decipher, which I am sharing below, for your illimitable enlightenment.
Wing Demon
A curious creature no wider than a hair, composed entirely of minute bones, the Wing Demon likes to perch on people’s shoulders and cozen them into ordering wings that are too spicy for their palate. For it is a sadistic creature. It is rumored if enough people succumb to a Wing Demon’s guile, it will sprout wings, grow a hundred feet and turn Bascom Hill into a volcano.
S. Nicholas Abscontium
A being that only appears around the holiday season, the SNA makes its home in dark corners and small boxes. Every December it awakens, to sow misery in the hearts of men. With a shake of its tuberous whiskers, it can change the result of your secret santa drawing, obligating you to buy a gift for someone whose name you know, but for the life of you, you don’t know what they actually look like, even though you see them all the time.
The Bird That Makes the Game
Second cousin to “The Bird That Makes the Rain” (the Shang Yang, a one-legged creature who hops around bringing rain to Chinese farmers), The Bird That Makes the Game has multiple roosts, depending on what sport is hot that day. It has three legs and no wings—yet it can fly—and its plumage changes color depending on what team it favors. A single scratch of its toes can shake a whole stadium. There is no way to sway or appease it, not even if you buy it a beer.
Y Broblem Yn Ein Perthynas
A smooth stone the color of taupe, about the size of a hedgehog, this sedentary monster is found exclusively underground, though it is a source of powerful emanations. A romantic couple, living in close proximity to this problematic beast, is doomed to failure, for its psychic presence warps the very woof of said relationship.
The Time Eater
Of nebulous shape and possibly invisible, The Time Eater floats just below the ceilings of libraries, drifting like a whale shark, filtering out the loose seconds suspended above the heads of students and scholars alike. It has no mating call, but it breeds endlessly and its presence is often distinguished by a cry (on the part of its victims) of “Fuck! It’s 2 a.m. and I haven’t started this paper!” or some variation. It is most proliferative in College Library.
The Mistab
A fungus-like being that forms a symbiotic relationship with The Time Eater. It is an aggregate of filaments and tendrils, which droop lightly over an unsuspecting student and (when it comes in contact with a laptop) plays with the keys so said student finds him or herself checking Facebook or Pinterest for the thousandth time instead of their legal studies syllabus or JSTOR. This causes seconds to diffuse rapidly above, to the delight of The Time Eater. In exchange for extra seconds, The Time Eater protects The Mistab from predators.
The Master Plan
A spirit of indeterminate origin, The Master Plan is responsible for the perennial construction occurring on campus. Rumor has it the sound of jackhammers and Caterpillars resembles the cries of its estranged mother, Chaos.
Malis Habitor
Closely linked with the German Doppelgänger and the Russian Double, the Malis Habitor prefers the eaves of old, rundown houses as its habitat. At night, it assumes the shape of one of the house’s inhabitants and thereof causes mischief along the lines of eating Marcus’ leftover pizza, leaving stacks of dirty dishes on the counter and seducing Tyler’s mother during Parents’ Weekend.
Are there any strange creatures you want to add to Sean’s list? Send your entries to sreichard@wisc.edu.
