Goul, Demon and Devil

I have been ghoul, demon and the devil itself. I have been feared as the monster of Arabia and worshipped as a God of Egypt. My kind have always been and will always be. We are a myth that continues to entertain and instigate art, storytelling and deviance. Throughout history we have always instilled fear, but so much so that we continue to be relegated to mythology and not fact. We have been our own best spin doctors to allow ourselves to be noted throughout history, but continue to be a tale and not a reality. It makes me laugh that we have hidden for so long in plain site and move as the silent predator who provides hope to their prey . What predator does that? The wolf does not provide the deer with hope for their future, only death. We offer something different.

Today, I lie here knowing this will not work. I watch through the eyes of Bawma looking down on a scene I have seen repeated time and again over the centuries. Bawma, a simple barn owl, has been my faithful companion for as long as I can remember. We bond to other predators in nature and live symbiotically helping each other to survive. I wonder what she sees when she looks down at this pathetic display?

As a species we continue to try, but our kind stopped procreating over 200 years ago. For an immortal this is but a blip, but as a female of any species we are born to give life and waiting and trying brings doubt, anxiousness and often despair.

Waiting for the sun to rise with a sprinkling of snow touching my skin. I watched him walk away without a word. I have already memorized the scars and the grooves of his skin and muscles. I remember when his skin was soft and unmarked. Before time and violence changed not only his skin. I remember when his mind and soul were less etched.

If I was human the stone would be cold, but I’m not and stone is simply hard. I’m lying on a fur and feel comfortable but cold inside. In my heart where I want to feel warmth. In my womb where I want to feel life, again.

Humans have long sought to understand the magic of Stonehenge. I understand it all to well, moreover the lack of it. The stones have stood since I was a child. I believe humans got that fact right, approximately 3000 years old. Yes, I have lived a very long and sometimes illustrious life. Mostly, I have lived in the shadows not seeking notoriety, but sometimes it just sneaks up on you. As a child I watched through Bawma's eyes, the Magic Ones pull the stones from the earth. There was more magic then, easily accessible yet still difficult to weild. The balance of male and female was of utmost importance. Really, in magic, as in all things, there must be balance. I remember the first stone rising from the earth as the sun rose. Just a sprout at first, like a plant growing from the earth and then an explosion of rock bursting from the ground. Each stone was drawn from whence it rested and formed the exact circle that stands now. Even that is a mystery. Once the circle existed it became the site for many magical rights. Not the least of which was creating newborns for many magical races. So, as a species, we don’t really wield much magic. We are more of the protectors and warriors of other magical species. Basically, we are the guardians. We are also the most akin to the human race, and can, on occasion, breed with them. We have tried to keep our line pure, but over the last few hundred years our females have no longer been able to bear young. Neither with our males or with human males. Our doctors have done extensive research and everything biologically checks out to be in working order. This would mean there is a magical interference that we are currently trying to thwart.

Hence, why I am lying on a cold stone in Stonehenge alone with semen dripping down my leg, and a man I once loved more than anything walking away into the mist. I remember when we met. No, it doesn’t feel like yesterday, but it doesn’t feel as long as it was. We weren’t poor, but we were not aristocrats. We were what you’d think of now as a solid middle class. Back then, that mostly meant not worrying about your next meal and a roof over your head. I knew my family would never need to sell me and I knew I could marry by choice not by arrangement. That being said, things were not always as they seemed. As a teenager in a Druid village there was life, beauty and magic everywhere. This also meant there were dangers we didn’t understand. Not much has changed in Druid spirituality since the dawn of time. The general ideas are harmony in all things, connection to each other and in particular to the nature. We worship our ancestors because we know they listen. We are a species that is Druid by history and choice, not by birth. We are not human and we are not magical Druids. We are born to be their protectors. We are warriors by birth.

I need to leave. The observers and Magic Ones have departed and now it is just Bawma and I watching the sun rise. I'll dress and walk to the nearest village. Maybe I will stay here for a while escaping the responsibilities I have in the real world and contemplate my future.

Bawma flies down to my shoulder and off we go. It is a pleasant walk, lightly snowing with a fresh smell. Then there is a metallic scent mixed in. Normally, I would believe this was farmers slaughtering sheep, but the smell is different, closer to human. Bawma flies ahead and I can see a body lying prostrate on the path by a car. I start running forward and Bawma swoops in and I realize it is one of our elders. He is bleeding and the life is draining from him.

I get there but he has taken his last breath. I am confused and for the first time in 3000 years, I am afraid.