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The night was young. Darkness crept over the forest where a shadowy figure stumbled amongst the trees. The faint rustling of leaves in the breeze provided a gentle accompaniment to the hooting of an owl. Branches and twigs crunched underfoot as this person, for it was a human, made his way ever haphazardly through the forest.
The person clung to the shadows, hugging the dark places, the faint moonlight barely touching ground in this dense foliage. Dampness clung to the air, the sweet smells of the deep forest were abound. The moonlight casting deep shadows in the darkness.
Dave, for that was his name, was alone in fact. He had felt alone most of his life, but never so much as now. He had lost everything he had, family, money, job, place to live, friends, everything. All he could feel was a numbing despair.
The wind picked up again, causing his long coat to flutter at the bottom and his hair, long untouched by scissors, to waft around in his face.
He looked up, “At least it's not bloody raining!” he said to no one in particular. He carried on with his wandering.
There was no purpose to his meandering path through the forest. It was April 30th, the evening of the day when he decided to tell his family and everyone his dread secret, one that he had kept for most of his 36 years, from as far back as he could remember.
He had been sullen for ages. It seemed that every time he had repressed it and found a modicum of happiness, the secret once again reared it's head once more and set his life in disarray.
On and on he went, the forest getting denser and denser, the trees, too were getting different. Oak, ash and yew replaced pine and maple. The bracken underfoot was getting thicker too, the ground more uneven. The moonlight, not very bright anyway, lit the way forward, its silvery radiance kissing the floor of this forest only in scattered places. It was the sort of scene that one might perceive when referring to the ancient forests of Albion, that long gone England of folklore, of tales of sprites and elves and the little people, of Gods and Goddesses, of myth and magic.
Dave stumbled, his foot caught down a hole in the forest floor. “Why!” he shrieked into the night, “haven't I been punished enough!”
He pulled his foot out of the hole and sat on a nearby rock. The damp moss providing scant comfort as it soaked into his coat and the clothes he wore underneath. He decided: 'enough was enough, I'm gonna stay put until I freeze to death or at least until sleep takes me!'. Needless to say he was not a happy chap.
He sat there for a while, the tangled branches and leaves causing the moonlight to cast complex patterns in the shadows, his thoughts becoming more dark and needy. He contemplated ending it all. Why couldn't he be normal, why did he have to open his big ugly mouth and most important of all, why did he have this overriding desire to be something that he patently is not?
The wind's gentle rustling of the leaves continued, the ever changing pattern of the moon's touch creating an almost hypnotic effect on the ground. He sat, staring at the swirly patterns for what seemed like an hour, the wind kissing his face and blowing his hair gently to and fro. The forest seemed quiter somehow, radiating a serenity he had never seen before, a soothing calm that could quiet the fiercest of storms. The sweet aroma of the flora and fauna providing a calming natural incense, easing the worries of this troubled soul.
In his fugue like trance, he had put aside his worries, his fears and anxieties. The future be damned! I am here.
“I am here!” he bellowed into the forest, his words lost among the ancient boughs. An owl hooted, seemingly in response and then all was quiet again.
Suddenly, there was a faint trampling sound. He did not hear it at first, so lost was he in his bewildered state. Through the trees, at which he was currently staring, came a stag into view, it's majestic horns glistening in the pale moonlight. Slowly, it made it's way through the forest, seemingly unconcerned about the human observer as it picked it's way across the rough ground.
Dave noticed the stag and kept quiet, not wanting to disturb this great beast. 'Funny,', he thought, 'didn't think that deer roamed this forest'.
He made motions to stand, to better observe this rarest of creatures. He had never seen one up close before in the wild and wanted to prolong this beautiful experience for a little longer. The wind died down, causing the rustling of the leaves to still momentarily as, almost simultaneously, a branch cracked under Dave's foot as he stood.
The stag stopped, momentarily stunned by this sudden intrusion into his domain. It's head turned and looked at Dave. Time stopped in that instant.
“Who are you that walks within my domain at this hour?”
The voice boomed out, resonating in his thoughts, although he was convinced that he imagined it. He looked at the stag, no way can stag talk. He looked around furtively, looking for a hidden person who had caught him in the forest. He thought on a little further, this forest was not private property, he had walked within its confines many times before, enjoying the solitude and time to think through his problems. He looked back at the stag, which had not moved at all.
“Who are you that walks within my domain at this hour?”
The question was repeated once more, echoing through the muddle of his mind, insistent, demanding answers.
“I am no-one!” he answered back, compelled by the urgency in the voice.
There was a slight pause before the voice responded once more:
“Well, no-one, you have come to this place at this time and I have come. It is time for you to join in the sacred dance.”
'Sacred dance?' he thought. 'Must be dreaming, must of fell asleep.' he tried assuring himself, but the cold air, the gentle moonlight and forest sounds and smells assaulted his senses, assuring him that this was indeed no dream.
“Come!” boomed the voice one more and with that the stag turned it's had once more and started to make it's way once more through the forest.
Dave, feeling like he had nothing better to do, and driven by curiosity, decided to follow this beast, clumping along at a measured pace behind this stag that glided through the forest so gracefully.
On and on they went, a strange procession through the forest. Dave thought on and on about his life, the endless lie and the truth that had led him to this place, these strange circumstances. 'what the hell!' he thought, 'Not like there is anything better for me anyway'.
Eventually, the stag stopped just short of a clearing in the forest, no more than fifteen foot across. In it's centre stood a squat stone, beside which were eight people, four men, four women, who sat around the stone, facing each other.
“This is where we part, No-one,”, the voice boomed once more, “For this night I must find me a mate”.
Dave nodded agreement, but was apprehensive about entering the clearing, his trust in people shattered.
“Fare thee well and we shall meet again, when you are Some-one!”
And with that said, the stag made quick his exit, bounding off into the night.
Dave stood stock still, not wanting to intrude on the people that lay beyond, not wanting those that lay beyond to intrude on his grief and just generally to be left alone.
This was not to be however. One of the women that sat around that stone got up and waved to him, beaming grin on her face.
“Hail and welcome!” she said, beckoning him to approach. “Come and join us!”
Dave was not sure what to do, but the insistent wave and beaming smile meant welcome in anyone's dictionary and so he walked forward hesitantly.
One of the men got up also, he too waved. “merry meet!” he said.
As Dave got closer, he could see that they were all wearing a kind of plain, off white smock, had bare feet and all seemed friendly. The woman that first greeted him was, as he got closer, about in her fifties, with long dark hair and the sort of smile that would charm even the grumpiest of people.
“Please, join us in our celebrations.” She said.
Dave was not sure he had anything he wanted to celebrate. “Sorry for disturbing you, I'll just go and leave you to it.”
“You will do no such thing, please, join us!”. Her voice was gentle, but with a kind of gentle authority that was kind of regal.
“Yes please,”, put in the man, also sounding gentle, “tonight only happens once a year and we would be doing you a disservice to let you go without fellowship. Please join us”.
He had reached them by this point. “Hi, my name's...”.
The woman who stood up held her fingers to her lips “Shh, we have no need of names here.”
dave fell silent. She beckoned to an empty patch of ground around the stone and gestured to him to sit. This he did and was joined either side by the man and woman. He took a good look around, there was another woman, this time blonde and probably in her thirties, a man, curly grey hair and unkempt beard, another woman, in her forties, straight grey hair cut into a neat bob, another man, short ginger hair, clean shaven. The last pair were a woman in her sixties and a man in his seventies, both carrying the lines of their age well on their faces. All were smiling, that sort of serene smile that only those who have found contentment can have. Dave felt so out of place here.
“And now we are nine!” said the oldest woman, “Hail and welcome!”
“Hail and welcome!” echoed the others.
“Tonight we are gathered to celebrate Beltaine.” She said in the manner of a priest, “Tonight we celebrate the joining of the Lord of the Forest with The goddess of the moon in sacred marriage.”
She continued with her tale, the others voicing phrases as though this were a play and each were a character in it. The tale is of the Goddess and the God, how he was born at the start of spring, Imbolg they called it, strutted his stuff and got married at Beltaine, was cut down at Lammas, the end of summer and returned in spirit at Samhain, or All Hallows Eve as it is more commonly known. It was a curious tale, one that Dave had never heard before.
The 'play' continued, with talk of the maiden Goddess being courted by the God, and of the impending marriage, where he laid gifts at her feet. Eventually she accepted and consented to be his bride. There was talk of the marriage, a simple affair of pledging to each other and thus it came to talk of the 'Great Rite' which, as Dave discovered later, was a euphemism for sex, but more a complete union of souls raither than just coupling.
After the talk finished, the younger woman said “We have one among us who needs healing on this sacred night”.
“One who is not truly ready for the last embrace of the Mother,” said the ginger man.
“One who has made us nine!” said the oldest woman, “For nine is three times three, Maid, Mother, Crone, Past, present, Future!”
Dave was starting to get worried. He enjoyed the tale that was told and in truth was getting quite into it. He was concerned about what was to happen next, but found his hand was being held gently by the woman ant his side.
She said, “Do not be afraid, but only a wise man or a fool refuses the gift of the Goddess”.
The oldest woman spoke once more, this time with authority. “In perfect love and perfect trust, do you accept the gift from the goddess?”
Dave sat there stunned. He did not know what to do. He eventually nodded silently his assent.
She continued, “The gift of the Goddess is granted freely, but it is what you need, not what you want.”
The older man said, “Please link hands with those either side off you.”
This Dave did, feeling somewhat at peace for the first time in a long while. He had never met these people before but it felt like a sort of coming home.
They started chanting.
“This is the spell that we intone,
Flesh to flesh and bone to bone,
Sinew to sinew and vein to vein,
make our friend whole again.”
On and on it went, repeating with a rhythmic intonation that was quite hypnotic. Dave was feeling more and more relaxed.
When the chanting finally ended, the old man produced a plain earthenware cup. He offered it up to the old woman and said “O queen most secret, bless this mead unto our bodies. May it bestow health, wealth, happiness and that fulfillment of love which is perfect blessedness!”
The others responded in unison “So mote it be!” The cup was passed round from person to person, each exchanging a kiss as they passed the cup. Eventually it came to Dave.
“This is the Starfire of the Goddess” said the lady next to him, “Drink and be merry!” She pecked him on the cheek and passed him the glass.
Dave sniffed the drink and smelled honey. He decided to take a sip and was surprised by it's sweetness and also it's bite. He passed the cup to the man on his right, who also pecked him on the cheek.
When the cup reached the old woman, she took another drink and poured the rest on the stone, “for the God and goddess!”.
They then sat quietly for a bit and Dave was so relaxed after the tenseness of the preceeding day that he fell asleep, feeling more comfortable and at peace than he had for a long while.
-
The following morning, a stag and doe entered the forest clearing, nuzzling at each other as they went. At the same time, a woman, long hair, in her thirties and wearing a white smock awoke from slumber, feeling relaxed and happy. She glanced towards the two deer, who pranced about before disappearing into the woods.
And so it was that Davina left the forest, a woman in truth.
OK, so I thought I would try my hand at something different. The Floral Tales will resume shortly if you are interested, but I had to get this one out.
Once again, apologies for any typos, hope you like - J
The Forest – J Morose
“For in each delve and greenwood,
Far wiser creatures play,
And in their depths and sinews,
Live the gods of yesterday.”
Comments
Nice quote!
I know it from Sabbat. Is that a poem from elsewhere or a Martin Walkyier original?
Martin Walkyier I think
and the song "Horned is the Hunter.
Well spotted and thanks for reading - J
That which does not kill me only serves to delay the inevitable. My blog => http://jaynemorose.wordpress.com/ <= note new address
Loved it
The whole story made me think of History of a Time to Come and Dreamweaver.
The stag's question was similar to the line in Dreamweaver: "Who are you who walks across the graves of giants at this late hour."
Ever read 'The Way of Wyrd' by Brian Bates
It is the book that the album Dreamweaver was written about.It was actually supposed to be a degree dissertation but he felt his research came out better as a story.
Not listened to it in years...gotta go and find the book.
Cheers - J
Unless there is truth in my heart, my every effort is doomed to failure....
That which does not kill me only serves to delay the inevitable. My blog => http://jaynemorose.wordpress.com/ <= note new address
Way of the Wyrd
I read the book many years ago, after hearing Dreamweaver and reading the liner notes. I've been on a Sabbat/Skyclad kick the past few weeks and have been listening to them a lot lately so the story spoke to my love of all things Sabbat-y. :)
Wonderful, Loving Story
I really enjoyed this fine, loving story. I have two questions though. First, is there any significance to using the non-existent date of April 31st? Is this a ritualistic way of avoiding the May Day date? Second, isn't a female deer a doe, and a female horse a mare? I'm no farm boy, but I was told that once.
Please don't take me the wrong way. I appreciate all your effort to write and post this story to make it available to us who wish that they could compose stories half a good as yours. Thank you for sharing.
Avid Reader
Thanks for pointing that out
Its 3:30AM and I wrote the story tonight on adrenaline and lack of sleep.
I will correct tomorrow.
Thanks for reading and for caring enough to point out my errors - J
Unless there is truth in my heart, my every effort is doomed to failure....
That which does not kill me only serves to delay the inevitable. My blog => http://jaynemorose.wordpress.com/ <= note new address
Loved it !!
Loved it!!! This story was sooo!! different from the Floral Tales.Thanks for posting it.
kirri
Whimsical Mood
This story put me in a whimsical mood. I like the setting, and I love the stag. What a nice stag! :)
I would've liked to see a little bit more of what happened to Dave just before he ended up alone in the forest. I think it would've helped set the tone of despair a little better. But perhaps that's just me.
At least everything turned out well. The stag got what he wanted, and so did Dave. :)
Thanks very much and blessed be.
- Terry
This was posted before I arrived here
...I am so glad that found this...excellent...idyllic and peaceful even if rainy at the beginning... and what the woman said to David about only a wise man or a fool refusing...would that we all took a walk in the forest... Thank you, dear friend, I loved this.
She was born for all the wrong reasons but grew up for all the right ones.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea
Love, Andrea Lena
Nice look...
...Mom.
Your Brat
Thank you for the comments
There should be more stuff coming soon.
-Jay
That which does not kill me only serves to delay the inevitable. My blog => http://jaym.angelblogs.co.uk/
That which does not kill me only serves to delay the inevitable. My blog => http://jaynemorose.wordpress.com/ <= note new address