I do not even remember My nativity... My life-eater nativity, I mean. And the details of my mortal existence are just as lost to me. They say I come from an area north of the Black Sea. But of course it had another name back then. We lived in houses made from bones... ivory shells for human habitation. You call them Woolly Mammoths. Our names was more poetic... The Rock that Moves... The Horn of The Spirits.
Can you imagine how cold it was then? Urine froze upon leaving the body, starting on the ground and working it's way up.... arcs of icy piss. Animals would snatch one and run away... I suppose for the salt. and when one of the people died during winter we'd eat them. There was no other alternative. The ground was hard and cold. Even in summer graves were shallow, for the ice never strayed too far.
We had a captive. Later generations would term her a slave. To us she was a curiosity brought from the warm, arid lands to the south. Only we did not say 'south.' To us the four directions were hot, cold, dawn, dusk.
Some men brought her to us as barter for hides.... musk oxen... woolly rhino... things like that. Mammoth pelts were never sold, for they were sacred. Babies were whelped upon them. Transgressors died in them. Do you want to know how? Wrapped up tight and sewn shut like a burrito. Odd that I know that word, but I do. For I have been walking forever.
Those who study the lineages of mankind would say we were first. First to call the gods... First to name the children... First to capture souls.... By that I mean the creation of images. Others came before us, but they were different.... Simple folk... Brutal folk.... And they died very young. I'm told some still live in the endless woods among the Siberiaks. You've encountered one. The 'Old Man,' or the 'Old Bones,' I think you call him. Well, maybe not you, but they who tell the tale.
And if I am to tell the truth, we were brutal too. Though to us it served a purpose. Don't ask me what. I have forgotten. Yet I remember the practices even now.
A man would be caught. One leg, below the knee, would be taken. And the same fire used to seal the wound would cook the meat. We ate it right in front of him. Next full moon was for the other leg, then the arms... Sometimes we'd feed them. Sometimes we'd keep them alive, until a need arose. They did make good bait you know... for bears, or great cats, or 'snow people.' Yetis, sasquatch, big-foot I think you call them. I can still remember their cries.
And sometimes we fed them to night-folk. No one watched. None dared see the deed.
But I did.... And so I was abandoned...
Please... this is still a very painful thing. Let me sit and keen my ancient songs.
Renate needs her rest. See the captured dream displayed below.
When next the sky grows dark I'll tell you more...
the tale is endless. for more click on this ~>THE BOOK OF ALL THINGS ... grace us with a COMMENT. for more beguiling reads, look here ~> http://AHardingBooks.com ... http://kaye-francis.blogspot.com ...more will appear next time. I meant to make a list but I forgot. if any were entered incorrectly, the mistake will be rectified. if you'd like your link to appear, tweet me and it will. thank you.