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How can paranormal beings not love these tales? Please remember that few are born paranormal... maybe some 'born witches' and in their own ancient, quiet way the Red Paint People. But vampires and lycanthropes start out as mortals... regular human mortals. As such they are quite aware of the magic and transcendence of it all. What must it be like to become a life-eater.... or a human who sometimes escapes into a feral world of moonlight and luscious flesh?
Everything is everywhere. Perhaps 'reality' is just the part timid sorts are willing to see?.... an idiot's delight of the safe and mundane..... Artists know that. Surrealists let themselves 'see' what's out there. Some of those we call 'insane' are merely just aware....
What do you see?
What holds the meat to your bones? Why does it not slide down and pool at your feet, contained like vomit in your bloated skin? And why does that skin not tear and rip at the crown of your skull and roll down from the bones, leaving them bare and naked... A slug has no bones. yet it lives. What locks your soul to your body? Does it fly free at night exploring Creation via dreams? Is magic a fundamental violation of nature, or merely a scientific reassembly and repositioning of what is just there waiting for direction? Is it proper for us to play 'conductor?'.... How about 'director?'... What separates the priest from the wizard? What is fitting and what is not?
Every instant of creation finds us at a fork in the road. Every instant of creation offers us the 'right' or the 'wrong.' The clock never stops till the end. We can't turn away from the game. Play, but play carefully...
Shhhh.... the clock is ticking.....
A shepherd's daughter watched from the bushes, as the king's daughter went by, raised up on a fine liter and resplendent in costly linen with sandals of softest deerskin. But the simple girl's eyes saw the golden diadem upon her brow and thought --- If I only had that selfsame shining circlet for my own. Soon after a ram began to speak. Now please know this was in the early times when such things occasionally happened. The shaggy beast said - If it is your true heart's desire, it shall be yours...... The girl asked --- How?..... But the creature just smiled in an alarmingly human fashion, revealing fine, cat-like teeth. A certain power emanating from the ram's eyes made the girl forget his words. A few heartbeats later, she fell asleep embraced by the soft mossy earth, between the roots of an old oak tree, surrounded by her slumbering flock. Though the ram was not among them.... Those nocturnal life forms with eyes and minds capable of understanding saw him staring at the moon... just staring .... frozen like a statue mounted on a small hillock .....
The girl woke with the faint, misty light of dawn. She gasped to find the circlet resting firm on her brow and ran to see her reflection in a small, still pond.... There it was, the exact diadem .... the princess's gold circlet.
She scrambled to her feet and shook the water from her clothes.... A large fat white salamander with red eyes and gill frills 'round it's head finished swallowing a naked little pixie (head first) with dragonfly wings, licked its chops, spit up a bit of blood and something else and said --- It suits you.... But she wasn't listening. Her image was too alluring..... Even the sheep seemed to notice. And the small, biting flies so common during that time of year left her alone and made do with the still living mutton.
Now the flock hated her. She killed their children and sold their little lifeless bodies on market day. Some stout burgher-wives liked lamb slaughtering and preferred to do it themselves. Others were cognizant of the fact that live lambs come with a fleece. Look, everyone has their reasons.
That evening, after her prisoners were adequately watered and quietly resigned to the tragedy of their lives, she sat under her favorite tree, preparing to rest. She took off her shoes and rolled the stockings from her feet. When she lifted the gold circlet from her brow it did not come easy, leaving an exact indentation of itself upon her soft, clear skin... But she could not see that. Oh, the pond was still there, though in the darkness it only reflected the moon...
The shepherdess wrapped the diadem in her shawl, placed it in a small hollow (just a slit in the tree-bark) quite safe from prying eyes and readied herself for sleep..... In all her hours of sweet slumber the exact indentation of the gold circlet refused to disappear...
I guess it had its reasons too....
<more to come... hopefully tomorrow>
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