SHORT STORIES

INDEX:
Rebirth, The Box, The Goddess and Muhammad, Daffodils, Rising Waning Moon, A Creation Story, Priestess, Labyrinth, A Pagan Myth, My name is Johnathan Herker, Preacher, Jade, Not Just Mama's Little Girl - The Story of Persephone, The Mechanical Cat, The Green Man, The Sacred Wound, The Age of the Daughter, Midsummer Magick, The World According to Volcana, Brighid's Fire

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Rebirth

Angela left the library, immersed in her own thoughts and heedless of the beautiful, warm, late-April day around her. The sun shone overhead, bright and immense like a child's face on his birthday. The grass, green with spring freshness, swayed like dancers in the gentle breeze.

Angela sat on one of the cold, stone benches momentarily, thinking of the past few months, think of the past few days. All around the college campus, few people milled about for it was later in the afternoon when fewer classes were in session. Angela felt isolated, though, even from those who were there. Nearby two classmates laughed and talked about weekend plans. A couple of nuns talked deeply about one of their classes as they passed by Angela, ignoring her. Angela was entirely alone, alone in her thoughts and being. She ceased to exist for the world, and no one seemed to be watching.

She had been diagnosed with the STD several months before, and then she had really believed that her love life had been over. She had found out since that her condition wasn't serious, and the treatments to remove the warts had gone well. She still felt out of place and depressed, and the latest rejection due to her condition only made her feel worse. It was only a man, she told herself, but that did not stop the doubt and terror that threatened to overwhelm her, dragging her further down into the abyss of despair.

Angela closed her eyes, willing the tears to dry before they spilled down her cheeks. Why did life have to deal such blows on her? Why did the world have to be so harsh? She had always believed that STDs only happened to promiscuous people. She had only been with two men in her lifetime. As an atheist, Angela didn't believe in divine retribution. Not really, anyway. Yet somehow she felt that she was being punished for what she had done. Was not loving a man such a crime? Was breaking up with him to go out with someone else a reason for any supreme being to wreck such a punishment on her?

The fact was, Angela did believe she was being punished. There were no coincidences, not as far as she was concerned. Everything happened for a reason, divine intervention or not.

Angela gathered her books and turned toward the sunlight. Did life really lack meaning? Was it really so empty that she had no plan and purpose here? Why was she here anyway? Angela began to walk to her next class which was located across campus. She squinted in the afternoon light, seeing the pinkish glow through her half-closed eyelids.

No one was around. It seemed as if the entire campus had become deserted. Then it seemed as if the entire campus had disappeared. Angela was only marginally aware of what was going on around her, but she felt the sunlight, the wind, and heard the natural sounds of birds. Then it seemed as if everything came into sharp focus. She stopped, entranced as she peered up at the sun, not really looking at it but still feeling its strong pull. She also felt the pull of something else, something feminine and strong. She couldn't name it, but she realized that it was soft, warm, loving, and powerful. She blinked once, twice, then felt a very female presence enter her, look through her eyes, and use her body as she glanced around campus.

The experience lasted only a couple of minutes, but in that time, Angela felt only partial control over her own body. Yet, instead of being frightening, it was immensely comforting and satisfying. She then heard a woman's voice in her head, not as an actual voice really but more of a gentle, persuasive thought.

"Everything will be okay, Angela. You are safe within my love."

Angela knew without being told what the voice was, who it was, what it represented. She felt love, she felt compassion, and she felt a sense of nonjudgmentalism. This entity loved her, loved all of her, not for anything she had done or hadn't done, but it just loved. Angela felt her chest swell, and a feeling of euphoria washed over here like a stream of light. The pure, blue sky toward the East held a waxing gibbous moon, but she was not aware of it. She didn't even register its existence, yet she felt it as if from somewhere deep within her.

Angela stood there for several minutes, letting the feeling wash over her, letting the entity watch the world through her eyes, letting the almost overwhelming feeling of love and joy purge the negative feelings she had been harboring for so many, many months. She knew that she would never be fully rid of those emotions, but she knew that she now could at least name them and monitor them.

At last, Angela moved on, but the feeling remained like nothing she could even describe. She didn't have the words to describe it, yet she knew it, and she knew that for the rest of her life, she would never forget it.

Angela remembered years ago in high school learning about Wicca, yet she had not given it much thought at the time. She had placed the books she had purchased away in a box somewhere, thinking the rituals and beliefs too odd and foreign for her rational mind. Not only that, but in those few months she had been "practicing" the religion, she had felt nothing, only a silliness at going through the meaningless motions.

Now she knew. Now she knew what she had been missing then. Now she knew that at 17, she had simply not been ready. The Goddess had not thought she was ready, but the books were still boxed away, waiting for her to return to them, to reread them and come to grips with the religion which had been her own all her life. She just had not been properly introduced to it yet.

Angela went to class, thinking of her first religious experience. She knew what others would say. They would say that she had imagined it all, that her mind while in its depressive state had been playing tricks on her. But, what did they know, anyway? Did they know what was right for her? Who would they be to tell her what she did and did not feel?

Angela knew at that moment that she had been touched, and she was forever changed by the touch. She smiled to herself, thinking of the years ahead with this divine love inspiring her at every moment. The pain of being dumped, the horror of the STD, the emotions and irrational thoughts coming with those trials all disappeared. In that instant, she knew that she would love again and again. She knew that just because one man rejected her did not mean that every one of them would. She had something to offer the world, and she had something special to offer the right person. But most importantly, she knew that she had something to offer herself, and her presence in the world was not lacking in meaning. She only had to realize that.

Angela went home that afternoon and dug up the old Scott Cunningham books. He had died of AIDS in 1993, but he still lived on in his spirit. Even when Angela had bought the books when she had been 17, he had been dead for over a year. Now she held the books in her hands reverently. They would be her first teachers, and even from the grave, Mr. Cunningham would teach her of a religion that was both newer and older than anything else in existence. She was now ready.

That evening, Angela held her first ritual. She lit some candles and burned some incense, but intuitively she knew that these were only props. She felt the power of the Goddess and the purity of Her love. She was not alone, and the universe was one with her for the first time in her 21 years.

She closed her eyes. The world held its breath as she mentally cleansed her being. From the shadows of despair, she stepped out into the world as a brand new being. She would never be free of sorrow, but at least she knew that it was not due to the nothingness of life. Life was everything, and she had a purpose. Only over the next few years would she begin to realize that purpose.

Angela had opened the door to the world of the Pagan Goddess. Like emerging from a black and white world, she had entered a realm of vivid color. For the first time in her life, she truly sensed everything around her.

For the first time, she felt ready to enter the delivery room of her own rebirth.

BACK TO THE TOP

The Box

Dora loved her grandmother's house. It smelled musty and old, and it was full of many neat things. Many neat things to a seven year old, anyway. And to a seven year old girl, the most interesting place in a musty, old house was the attic.

On Dora's seventh birthday, she and her mama went over to grandmother's house for some chocolate birthday cake -- Dora's favorite kind of cake. Her mama and grandmother talked over coffee afterwards, and Dora played quietly with the new toy horses her grandmother had given her for her birthday. But Dora was bored.

"Dora, why don't you go up to the attic? I hid a toy for you up there." Dora's grandmother's eyes laughed with mystery, and Dora stood up, her eyes large.

"What will I find up there, grandmother?" She asked, dropping one of the toy horses.

"Well, you'll just have to find out." She smiled, giving Dora a big kiss.

Dora thundered up the dusty stairs to the attic. Cobwebs hung from the single window at the far end, and a moldy smell permeated the entire area. But Dora loved it, and she especially loved surprises. She began to look through a stack of old cardboard boxes, smiling as an old house spider scurried away. She liked spiders.

She sneezed at the cloud of dust, then stood, transfixed as for the first time she noticed the wooden box.

It was about a foot in length, chestnut in color, and was about 8 inches long and 6 inches deep. But, Dora didn't think of its size. To her seven year old mind, it was a very pretty, if dusty, wooden box. For some reason, it drew her in, making her want to touch it and open it. She momentarily forgot about the hidden toy and walked over to it.

A layer of dust covered the top, obscuring most of the wood. Dora drew a big "D" in the dust, laughing. But she frowned when she felt the ridges of lettering as she drew the letter. Fascinated, she brushed off the dust, revealing a message beneath.

Do not open.

Dora leaped back, almost tripping on an extension cord. She looked around in fear, wondering if anyone had seen her. Do not open. She knew better than to open something that said not to open it. She knew her grandmother would know she had opened the box because the dust had been brushed off of it. Dora did what she was told, and she knew her grandmother knew of the old box. It was in her attic. She would be mad at Dora.

Dora turned to start her search for the toy, but she could not leave the box. She wanted to touch it, open it up, see what was inside. Maybe her grandmother wouldn't notice, or if she asked Dora about opening the box, Dora could tell her that she had accidentally brushed it but had not opened it. But, that was lying.

Dora, hands shaking, picked up the box. It felt light and empty, but then she shook it. Something rolled on the inside, making clunking sounds as it slammed into the sides of the box. A ball? A cylinder? She put the box down again. She picked it up, and what she heard almost made her drop the box.

This time, it made a swooshing noise like paper. Dora was thunderstruck. How could a box contain one thing at one moment and another thing the next? It made no sense.

Dora put the box down, knowing that her mama and grandmother would come looking for her soon. She resumed her look for the toy and found a package of multi-colored modeling clay. Dora smiled; she loved working with play-dough, but she would have more fun with the clay. She turned back to the box one last time, frowned, then raced down the stairs. She promised herself never to look at the box again.

And for a few years, she kept that promise.

Dora celebrated her thirteenth birthday with her mother, grandmother, and her best friend Stacy. They took a trip to the mall, and Dora had her ears pierced for the first time. Her grandmother gave Dora twenty dollars and a new necklace.

The necklace was a small, silver chain with a silver star on it. It was pretty and delicate but nothing an active teenager wanted. She wanted sparkles and beads, pink sweaters and shiny, blue boots. The silver star was delicate and pretty, but Dora put it on anyway, thanking her grandmother for such a pretty, if not completely appreciated, gift.
The four of them went back to Dora's grandmother's house for chocolate birthday cake. Her grandmother always made the best cake, and the young child in Dora still craved her grandmother's recipe.

After cake, grandmother told Dora to go upstairs to the attic to get an extension cord for the VCR grandmother wanted to put in her living room. Dora and Stacy giggled, racing upstairs two at a time to retrieve the cord.

Not once in the 6 years that had elapsed had Dora touched the box. She still thought of it often, and she occasionally looked at it in her forays into the attic. Over the years, she saw the dust accumulated upon it again, but never once had she thought of opening it.

Stacy let out a squeal as Dora found the cord. Dora turned around to see Stacy pick up the box with curiosity.

"Stacy!" Dora hissed, causing Stacy to drop the box. "Don't touch that!"

Stacy looked at Dora strangely. "Why not? It is just an old box."

"Look." Dora said, brushing off the six years of dust from the lid.

Stacy read the lettering out loud. "That is weird." She said, perplexed.

"I don't think we should open it." Dora said gravely.

"I don't think so, either. Does your grandmother know it is up here?"

"I don't know. The last time I found it was on my seventh birthday. It hasn't been touched since."

"How do you know?"

"That dust has been there since I last brushed it off 6 years ago."

Stacy's eyes were wide. "Wow! That is so cool! I think you should keep it. If your grandmother hasn't touched it in 6 years, surely she has forgotten all about it."

Dora nodded. Stacy made sense, but she didn't mention the very odd thing about the box. The memory of it still scared her.

"Girls!! I sent you up for a cord, not the Mexican army!" Grandmother yelled from the downstairs.

Dora quickly took the box from Stacy and stuffed it into her coat pocket. Her coat was bulky and could hide small animals if they didn't move. Dora and Stacy exchanged guilty looks, but both nodded. Dora would keep the box.

Stacy grabbed the extension cord, and together they thundered down the stairs.

That afternoon, Stacy and Dora stared at the box as it sat on Dora's bedroom floor.

"Do you want to open it?" Stacy asked.

"Why should I? Why don't you do it?"

"I'm not going to do it. It was in your grandmother's attic."

Dora stared at the box, then touched the lid, her hands trembling. She bit her lip.

"Dora, Stacy! Stacy, your mother is here!" Dora and Stacy jumped. Then, Stacy said a four-letter word.

"Stacy!" Dora laughed.

But Stacy just looked at Dora sourly. "I guess I had better go. Don't open it until I'm here, will you?"

"I promise I won't." Dora said, picking up the box to put it under her bed. It felt strangely heavy.

But, Stacy never came over to Dora's to open the box. Stacy's uncle in Chicago passed away that night, and she and her family had to be on the next plane. Dora and Stacy got to say their goodbyes, but they never got the quiet moment again in Dora's room to open the box.

"Don't open the box until I'm in town again, please?" Stacy pleaded. Dora promised.

Stacy never came back. After a few years trying to maintain a long-distance friendship, they soon lost touch. Dora never opened the box.

Dora graduated from high school, and she received a used car for her birthday. Used or not, Dora still loved and appreciated the gift. The day of her graduation, she put on the silver star that her grandmother had given her. She wished that her grandmother could go to the graduation, but she was sick and in the hospital.

It was an unusually cold day for the ceremony, and thick, gray clouds churned in the ominous sky. Dora stirred boredly in her seat, waiting for the valedictorian to finish giving her speech. For some reason, her mind wandered to the box still underneath her bed. It had been untouched since her thirteenth birthday except for being pushed out of the way once so Dora could push a box full of sweaters underneath her bed. But no human hand had so much as brushed its chestnut body since that day in Dora's room almost 5 years before.

That night, Dora's family celebrated her graduation by going out to eat. She got money and small, token gifts. Dora was eager to try out her car, but it could wait until tomorrow.

"Dora," her mother said, taking out a small, silver box with a red ribbon tied around it. "Your grandmother wanted to give this to you, even if she can't be here today."

Dora took the box. "Will she be okay, Mom?" Her voice was thick with worry. What was wrong with grandmother?

"She'll be okay. She is getting better every day. She should be home by the end of this week."

"Why doesn't she just give this to me then, Mom?" She reached out to hand the package back to her mother, but her mother declined.

"She wanted you to have it today, sweetheart."

Dora frowned, but took the box. She pulled off the ribbon and opened the jewelry-sized box. Inside was something that she would have been unable to appreciate 5 years before, but her eyes lit up when she saw it.

Inside was a woman with circles for breasts and a spiral for a body. Her arms were raised as if to the sun, and her face was featureless. It seemed to be all women, yet no woman all at once.

Dora handed the pendent to her mother. Her mother gave a phantom smile and almost reverently gave it back to Dora.

"What is it?"

Dora's mother smiled. "Your grandmother is into some unusual things, sweetheart. It is a woman, for protection I think. Don't forget the silver chain that goes with it."

Dora then noticed the chain beneath the cotton padding; it must have slipped underneath it after the box had been closed. The chain was a thicker silver than the chain she was currently wearing. She felt for the small, silver star at her throat, wondering if there was a connection between the star and the woman. Surely there must be.

That evening before bed Dora felt for the box beneath her bed. She pulled it out and brushed off the thin layer of dust on the top of the lid. The words "Do not open" still mocked her with their simple engraving. She looked at the new trinket and her old necklace she had had for five years.

Then it suddenly occurred to her. Of course! Why hadn't it occurred to her before? She would put the necklaces inside the box. It was a jewelry box, meant to hold valuables such as these. Her grandmother had never made mention of missing the box, and as far as Dora was concerned, the box was hers for the keeping. She took the necklaces and placed them on her night stand, then gently fitted her nails between the lid and the body.

She pushed.

It was stuck.

She pushed again, harder.

It barely budged.

Dora sighed with irritation. For almost 11 years she had feared opening this box, and now she couldn't at all. She was determined now to open it.

She pulled on the lid and the body at the same time, but still the box would not move. She wondered if the box was glued shut on purpose, and someone had put the phrase "Do not open" on it as a joke. Some joke, she snorted.
Dora went downstairs to get a butter knife. Surely it should be able to crack the lid.

Still, nothing.

Dora shoved the box underneath her bed impatiently. That was the last time she'd ever touch that box. Next time it would be with a sledgehammer to discover its contents.

Dora didn't touch the box again until her 21st birthday.

Dora's friend Renee plopped her onto her bed, taking off her shoes. Dora stirred drunkenly, unable to support herself. Her head spun around in great loops, making concentration and consciousness nearly impossible.

"Thunk, ya, Ren-n-n-a." She stuttered.

"You're welcome. Now, sleep it off. Don't forget to drink lots of water in the morning. It will rehydrate you."

"Ya." Dora said into her pillow.

Renee smiled. "I hope you had fun tonight. I'll see you at Greg's Pub tomorrow night."

Dora didn't answer. Renee didn't expect her to.

The next morning, Dora felt like a hammer had been crashing into her skull all night. Her mouth felt like it had been chewing cotton, and her stomach seemed to swish from side to side when she moved.

She kicked the box underneath her bed on accident, stubbing her toe as she came back from the bathroom.
She uttered an obscenity. Then, still in a bad humor, she remembered her desire to break the box open with a sledgehammer the next time she saw it. Somehow the thought of the broken box didn't improve her mood.

Jason had dumped her two months ago, but it still upset her. He had been there last night, probably laughing at her inability to stand after only a few drinks. Thankfully, he had had the decency to not bring his new girlfriend with him.
The funeral had only been a week ago, too. Her grandmother had passed away in her sleep, even though she had been sick off and on for the past 4 years. The memory of her grandmother in that red-velvet lined open box, lying there so lifeless and solemn, had made her sob like a child. She had loved her grandmother, and what was worse was that Dora had never had the chance to really say goodbye. Just the week before her death, her grandmother had been over at her house, yet Dora had been out with her friends.

So guilt overcame her. Depression, too. And the box beneath her bed seemed like a good scapegoat for her frustrations.

Dora yanked at the box under her bed, tossing it over her shoulder onto the floor. It landed with a loud thunk.

"Dammit, you are going to open for me, or I'll bust you open!" She hissed at the box, prying at the lid.

It remained firmly closed.

She dropped the box, hearing it heavily hit the floor as if filled with something. She stared at it, picking it up again.
She looked at the two necklaces hanging on a hook beside her bed. There was a gentle push within her mind, and a connection was starting to form.

She owned three things from her grandmother -- the box, the woman pendant, and the silver star. She took the two necklaces off the hook, then held them in her right hand, the box in her left.

"Woman-star." She said.

She tried to push open the box with her thumb. Nothing.

"Star-woman." Nothing.

"Dammit, what do you want from me?!" She cried, tossing the box on the floor.

And an extraordinary thing happened; the box landed open, face down.

Dora stared at it for a few minutes, dumbfounded.

Carefully, she walked over to the box, reaching to pick it up.

As if it foresaw her actions, it righted itself and snapped shut.

Dora blinked in shock. Fear tugged at her, and she left the box sitting where it had landed. She didn't dare touch it.

She stared at the box for several minutes, mouth slightly parted.

"I'm not ready for you, am I?" She asked the box. "Will I ever know how to open you?"

The box sat, as ordinary and dead as it has always sat for so many years.

Dora sighed, picking up the box. It felt empty. "I guess I'll figure it out someday."

She stuck the box in a far corner under her bed. She wondered how long it would sit there before she tried to open it again. She wondered if she'd ever succeed or if the box was truly impenetrable. It was obviously not sealed shut, but it opened only for certain reasons. It had made that clear. Yes, it could be opened. No, it would not open at will for her. At least not yet.

But she didn't have long to wait. It was only a little over a year later that she tried to open the box again.

At 22, Dora was graduating from college, and the world lay ahead of her. She had job offers, some of them very good, and her future seemed to be very bright.

Yet something tugged at her, bringing her happiness down a few notches. Her mind had spent the past year and a half worrying over that box. She'd also been having dreams about her grandmother. Weird dreams. Often, her grandmother seemed to be telling her something. Strange images haunted her, but they hardly were disturbing, just odd.

One involved a woman who could turn young or old at will. A full moon would hang overhead, beckoning her to touch it. She often found herself naked or barely clothed, yet instead of it being horrifying, it felt natural, real, and joyful. Her grandmother seemed to want her to know something about the box, but the message was never clear. Her words always seem muffled, and she couldn't understand them.

Dora no longer felt guilt at never having said goodbye to her grandmother; indeed, it seemed she had spoken to her grandmother more in the past year through dreams than she had in 21 years. Yes, her grandmother and she had been close, but in a familial sort of way brought on by close proximity and relational love. She had never had a deep, meaningful conversation with her grandmother. Her grandmother was more mysterious than the box had been even, yet she had always felt close to her grandmother in a way that was very different from physical love found between herself and boyfriends, the philosophical love she shared with her mother, or even the companion type of love she shared with her girlfriends.

Her grandmother was a mystery, had always been. Even her mother had been unable to crack the mystery that was her grandmother.

Yet in her mind, in her dreams, Dora's grandmother came to her, revealing truths and mysteries that Dora had never envisioned. Dora's grandmother was becoming more than just a strange dead relative, she was becoming a teacher, a guardian, a guide.

Feelings were awakening in Dora; ideas were as well. On the night after her 22nd birthday, she woke at 3 in the morning after a vivid dream. This time, she remembered everything her grandmother had told her. It was about the box.

She had stood in a field, clothed in a white, gossamer gown. The full moon shone overhead, making the world glow bluish-white. She saw her grandmother come towards her.

They clasped their hands, looking into each other's eyes.

"You are ready, granddaughter. The Goddess will reveal herself to you tonight, my love. Take the box; you are now ready for it. Open it. It will show you its secrets. For 14 years now, you have not been ready. You have worried about how I would feel knowing you had taken the box. You have worried what the box contained, and finally, you were too angry inside to appreciate the contents of the box. You will now know. Open the box. And then, you will know."

The dream vanished as Dora sat up in her bed. Through her window, the full moon shone into her bedroom. Her body was cold, and she fumbled with her bed sheets. Her heart raced.

Hardly daring to breathe, she pulled the box out from under her bed. It contained something, yet it was not heavy nor particularly light. That which it contained didn't move, only existed. And it waited to be opened.

What would happen? Were her dreams just odd visions she had been having of late? Why had it only been the past year? Had her grandmother had to die in order to have the secrets of the box revealed? Why had her grandmother never mentioned them in life?

She brushed off the thin layer of dust from the box. She fitted her thumbs under the lid, mouth slightly open as she very slowly pushed.

The box screamed, yet it was not a scream that could be heard or even seen. It simply screamed, nearly shattering her eardrums. A blinding light shot out from the box, and Dora fell backwards, in shock and momentary blindness.

"Look." A woman's voice spoke.

Dora slowly opened her eyes, then nearly cried in simultaneous fear and awe at the sight before her. A woman stood above the box, her face white, her hair golden, and her eyes as blue as sky. "Welcome, Dora."

"Grandmother?" She asked.

"She is of me, and I am of her. Do you know who I am?"

"My grandmother called you the Goddess. But -- ?"

"You are not yet familiar with the old ways, daughter. You will be, but it can not be explained all in one night. It has taken you this long to be ready for the gifts of the Goddess. Some would consider these gifts evil, but they are really gifts of enlightenment. You are just beginning your journey, my daughter."

"I don't understand."

"Your grandmother was a daughter of the old ways. She practiced the old religion. Her daughter, your mother, never could understand those old practices, yet she knew that someday you would. You have the gift within you. You only need to understand it, believe in it, and open yourself up to it. This box is the key to that knowledge. It contains within it much of the knowledge you will need, the knowledge your grandmother had placed there so many years ago. It is her gift to you."

"But I took the box."

The woman smiled. "No, your grandmother always knew you would never be able to resist its presence. She knew the day you first touched it, and she knew you'd one day long to reveal the secrets within it."

Dora sat, awed. "You are the Divine."

"I am but one face of the Divine. I am many faces, and I am many forms. Seek me within yourself, for I am all that is, and I am all that you attain at the end of wisdom. You have known me for many years, yet you could not name me. You see me in the sky, the clouds, the full moon, the ocean waves, the delicate butterfly, and the roaring storm. I am all around you, yet I am also within you. The old ways are the key, but you need to turn it to reveal the treasure within. Come, look inside. Your grandmother has left you much."

The light faded, and the box lay black and open. Dora approached it carefully, reaching in. Her hand disappeared, and she felt nothing but cold, empty space. Then, her hand felt the cold, brittle leather of a book. She picked it up, placing it upon her bed.

She next pulled out the silver star necklace and the woman pendant. She looked confused. But, she had had these things all along!

Then, it occurred to her. This knowledge, this box, had been opened to her all along. It had always been available to her, yet she had been unable and unwilling to see its contents. She picked up the book, opening it to reveal an old, scratchy handwriting which could only have been her grandmother's.

"Dora, you have found my life and youth and all the things I have learned from the Mother. Years ago, I left the old ways when I married your grandfather; he didn't approve of them. Many years later after his death, I was unable to fully return to them. Here, I put all of my thoughts and beliefs. There are many others like you and me, and I want you to find them. Seek out the old woman Caillech; she should still be alive, and she will make herself known to you. But, always remember the knowledge within, for you have everything you already need. You only need someone to reintroduce them to you. For you are like me, a child of the old ways. Your memory is mine, and so it is. Grandmother."

Dora watched in awe as the lettering faded from the book, leaving only a blank page. She then flipped through the hand-written book. She would have to start reading it right away.

Dora felt the bottom of the box, feeling nothing now but a scratchy wooden bottom.

Dora closed the box, sucking in her breath as she read the inscribed message on the top.

Open to those who open their hearts and minds to the Goddess and ancient wisdom.

Dora would never be the same again, but her journey and life had only just begun.

BACK TO THE TOP

The Goddess and Muhammad

Amirah patted her camel lightly on the neck, feeling the closeness of her body next to his. She was closer to this camel than she was to most other people. Others saw her as a leader, an unattainable woman, because she was a messenger and mouthpiece of the Goddess.

She turned, her eyes the only part of her body exposed to the desert wind. Behind her, her slaves, bare-chested and covered with pale dust, strained to pull the stubborn camels the last mile or so to the village. The caravan was covered with tan skins, but underneath, spices and other valuables were protected. They would be necessary in exchange for what she truly needed. Several servant girls trotted behind on their camels, and behind them, imposing men on Arabians held the rear. They were for protection against the common bandit.

Amirah barked an order to hurry along. The servant girls and guards caught up with Amirah, but the slaves struggled behind, trying to pull the groaning camels with them. Amirah was eager to get to the village for a number of reasons. Travel made her uneasy because of the risk of bandits, but she also knew that the village was still a place of the Goddess. She would be welcome there, and no one would criticize her for exposing her face and head.

It was becoming more common. The new religion was taking over, and it was slowly exterminating the Goddess and Her followers. Among the followers of the Goddess, women and men were still equals, but with this new religion, men were seen as superior.

Amirah didn't understand why this should be. She knew very little of the new religion, but she did know that the teachings of Muhammad did not say that women were inferior. It was even said that Muhammad had women as teachers, and one of his wives had been a warrior in her own right. She wondered why some should interpret the teachings that way. It didn't matter. What did matter were results, and the result was that in this new religion, women were forced to cover their heads and in some cases their faces. And worse, the new religion forbade worship of the Goddess. That meant that Wise Ones like Amirah would not be allowed to be mouthpieces of the Goddess. She, just like all other women, would be forced to submit to men and cover their heads.

Amirah would not. She had decided that she would die first before submitting herself to men. She was a messenger of the Goddess, a Wise One and leader. Women were sacred beings, not the slaves of men.

Amirah looked over at one of the guards. He smiled through the scarf; she could tell by his eyes. She often wondered why Zafir pursued her the way he did. Amirah knew that she was not attractive; her hands and body were pretty enough, and her long, raven hair was thick and shiny. But, she had a big nose and bushy eyebrows, and her face was plain and colorless. Her face was sharp and long, and the only pretty aspect of her face was her long, black eyelashes. However, all total, she was not a beautiful woman.

Yet she knew her beauty, or lack thereof, was not what Zafir liked about her. She was a strong woman and intelligent, and she was a warrior as well as Wise One. Zafir was handsome and courageous, but the pretty but weak-minded girls did nothing for him.

Amirah's eyes widened in joy as the village came into view as they crested the hill. She urged her mount on, knowing full well the fast Arabians would reach the destination far sooner than her hardy but very slow camel. The caravan would arrive long after that, she judged, given the stubborn grunts coming from the camels.

Zafir and the other guards were already talking to an older man with a beard when she and her servant girls finally arrived. Amirah took off the wrap on her head, happy to breath freely without the desert dust getting into her mouth. The older man smiled up at her, helping her down from the camel.

"Greetings, Wise One. My name is Bahir, Sheik of this village and the husband of the Wise One. Welcome and make yourself at home."

Amirah smiled. "Thank you for your welcome, Sheik Bahir. We have spices and other goods for trade, and we are happy to be in a village that still praises the Goddess. Her name these days is spoken less and less often."

Bahir frowned. "I know that, but you will find here that we still follow Her ways. What other goods do you wish to trade? It has been so long since we have had a caravan come through here with such precious goods; the roads are getting more dangerous since the coming of the new religion."

"Yes, it has been hard, but we have been lucky. We were in Medina two moons ago."

Bahir looked at her curiously. "It is strange to see a Wise One accompanying a caravan. Why do you?"

Amirah smiled mysteriously. "When our caravan arrives, I will show you, Sheik Bahir. Can I meet your Wise One soon?"

Bahir's brow furrowed in curiosity, but he smiled. "Soon you will. Until then, please, freshen up. You must be tired from your journey."

Amirah was lead into a small building a few minutes walk away. She was pleased to find warmed perfumed water in a wide basin. One of her servant girls brought a dressing outfit of white silk to change into. Amirah looked at the young girl; she couldn't have been more than 18, and she was very beautiful. Her dress, like the other servant girls, was very simple, yet her delicate beauty shone through the plain clothing. Amirah looked at the beautiful outfit laid out for her. She guessed that it was a fair trade-off. Amirah was not beautiful, but she could dress in beautiful things, and she was smart.

Amirah washed, then took some powdered rouge to brighten her cheeks. She combed her wet hair, looking at herself in the mirror. Her neck looked skinny and not in proportion with her face. She was definitely ugly.

Behind her, she noticed Zafir's dark, smiling face. His white teeth shone brightly against his dark brown skin. He was a very beautiful man.

Amirah smiled. "You shouldn't be here, my love. People might talk. Wise Ones and their body guards do not mix."

Zafir crossed the room in one sweeping gesture, kneeling at her side. "Would they be jealous?" His eyes were full of mischief.

She laughed. "Zafir, they would wonder why such an attractive man was with such an unattractive woman. You could have any one of my servant girls."

Zafir frowned. "Amirah, you are beautiful to me. You are strong and intelligent; to me, that is what is truly important. Your servant girls may be pretty, but their thoughts are shallow and uninteresting."

Amirah looked down at Zafir in affection, a small smile overcoming her face. "Zafir, you are a rare man. You should be a prince."

Zafir held her hand in his. "With you, Amirah, I can be anything."

Zafir reached up to kiss her, a small moan escaping Amirah's lips. Amirah wondered how long they would have before Sheik Bahir or one of his servants came to retrieve her to speak to their Wise One. She stood up to close and lock the door. She would make time.

Amirah sat across from the older woman, though the Wise One was certainly younger than she would have expected given the age of her husband; Amirah guessed her to be about late forties or so and the Sheik to be in his early sixties. There was still an obvious bond between the two people, and Amirah was glad they still lived under the worship of the Goddess. The influence of the new religion was changing the world, and not for the better.
Amirah called for one of her slaves, and the man produced a package covered in a tanned skin. Amirah smiled mysteriously as Sheik Bahir and the Wise One Dahab craned their necks to see the contents.

Amirah uncovered the precious figure in the center. It was made of fired clay and appeared to be ancient. It was a woman, but the woman looked very pregnant with large, pendulous breasts. Instead of a face, coils of hair wove around the entire head. Hands were only scratches, and the legs were little more than stumps ending in a point that could be stuck into the earth. Amirah explained. "I traded a lot of spices for this figure. It is said that this woman-figure was made many thousands of years ago by people from the North. The man I traded with said that there is an island far to the North in a land where summers are mild and winters are cold, and there is a circle of stone there. No one knows why it was built, but it is apparently still in use. The Christians are wiping out the Old Ways there, but a few followers of the Goddess still practice their religion. We have much in common with them."

Dahab picked up the figure. "It is the Goddess for certain." Her eyes met Amirah's. "How much do you want for it?"
"I give it to you as a gift, but I do want one thing in exchange."

Bahir and Dahab stared at her in anticipation. What could the woman want for such a rare and expensive gift?
"I am traveling South toward the capital city."

"Mecca!" Bahir exclaimed. "It is dangerous for the followers of the Goddess right now. Women there can not move about the streets without being covered."

"I know that, but I have a mission. There is a piece of meteorite there I must retrieve before the new religion claims it for itself. I need a map of the city, a very detailed map -- the more detailed the better. You live closer to the city than I have been since I was a child, and the world has changed significantly since then. All I ask is for a map. I will leave most of my caravan behind; I will return for them on my way back."

Dahab's eyebrows went up. "We would be more than happy to assist you in any way we can, Sister, but it might be wiser to send one of your guards or slaves into the city. Women can not move freely there."

Bahir added, "The bandits also are more common the closer to Mecca you travel. The land to the North is very safe by comparison."

"I know the risk, Brother and Sister, but it is for the Goddess that I do this. I will return, and when I do, I would highly recommend that we all travel North. The worship of the Goddess is more prevalent out there."

Dahab nodded. "We know, but this has always been our home, our village. Either way, we will wait your return, and we will get your map. If you need anything else, let us know. May the Goddess bless you."

Amirah hugged the older woman. "May the Goddess bless you." Amirah whispered.

Amirah took Zafir and two other guards with her. She also took the young servant girl, and she packed light. They would return, of that she was sure. She would not need many belongings.

The set out South, towards Mecca. Amirah remembered Mecca vaguely, for it had been many years since she had last been in the city. Things had changed, though, of that she was sure. The map Dahab and Bahir had given here was as current as any, and the shrine that held the piece of meteorite was clearly marked. The trouble would be getting to the sacred rock without getting caught.

"I can get the stone, Amirah. As a man, I have better maneuverability." Zafir said as they traveled.

"I know, Zafir. Don't think I haven't thought or considered that fact already. I have a plan, but if the city is as bad as Dahab and Bahir have said it is for women and the Old Ways, I may take you up on your offer. But, I am the Wise One; it is my responsibility to get the stone back."

Zafir nodded. "She is my Goddess, too. I will never fall prey to the new religion."

Amirah looked over at him. His jaw was clenched, his lips a thin, white line. There was determination there.

Mecca was several day's ride, and that was if they moved quickly. As they approached, Amirah ordered her servant girl to cover up her face. Amirah did the same, then fell slightly behind Zafir. For now, he would be the visible leader of the party, and she wanted the people in Mecca to believe that as well.

The city was as beautiful as she remembered it, but it was different. The air was tense, and she could see the desolation and fear in the eyes of the women and most of the men in the town as they traveled through. Somewhere, a baby cried. But otherwise, the town was silent. It was as if the very sound had been sucked out by some unseen, malevolent force.

"What is your plan, Amirah?" Zafir whispered.

"I didn't expect it to be this bad, Zafir. Me getting the stone will be next to impossible. Try and find out if women are even allowed in the shrine."

Zafir nodded, then dismounted. He approached a man with a cart full of fruit. After a brief exchanged, he returned, his face solemn.

"Women are closely watched in the shrine. Men are given more leeway. Should I go in and try to find the meteorite?"

Amirah looked around, scanning nervously for spies. "Try to find it. We will seek it out after dark."

Zafir disappeared into the shrine, and produced a small, green rock from his pocket. He smiled when Amirah gave him a shocked look.

"We had better leave," he whispered.

Amirah was glad she and the servant girl had taken the Arabians like the guards had. They pretended to shop and look natural in the town, then left just before dusk. Amirah found that she had missed the holy city, down to the bitter tasting spring water. Mecca was also a major trading center as well as a place of pilgrimage; in years past, followers of the Goddess had come here, but now only the followers of Muhammad were allowed to enter into the shrine.

The red desert sun seemed to cover the Western horizon. They traveled with its light on their left shoulders -- quickly.

They traveled through the night, happy when the sun rose in the East without incident. Amirah was concerned about the ease of their theft and retreat; she felt it in her bones that something was about to go horribly wrong. She took the meteorite out of her pocket and admired it. She would take it North to where the Goddess was still worshipped, and she would help build a shrine there far from the prying eyes of the new religion.

They rode on, passing by landmarks that let them know the village was getting closer. The village of Bahir and Dahab was only a day or so ride away, and she was eager to see them again. She still felt the strong urge to travel North, to keep on moving, to get as far away from Mecca as she could. Something purely evil was following her, and only by moving North would she be able to escape it.

As they approached the village mid-day the next day, she felt something wrong. She urged her mare to a gallop, and Zafir and the others had trouble keeping up. Amirah gasped in terror as they approached, for the town was in the middle of being attacked.

Amirah's warrior nature kicked in, and heedless for her own safety, she plunged full ahead, reaching for the sword tucked deep in her robes.

"Amiraaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!" She heard Zafir scream behind her. She paid him no attention. She must help these people.

Buildings were on fire, and women screamed as men raped them in the streets. Amirah was in a rage at the violation of this quiet little town. A man was raping a young girl twenty feet in front of her. A scream more animal than human roared from Amirah's throat as she tore at the man at full speed. She decapitated him with her sword.

Amirah didn't know how many of these barbarians were there, but she would fight them to the last man if she had to. She heard Zafir call her name again, but she ignored him. She fought a man ferociously, delighting in his shocked expression as she fought him off his horse. Without hesitation, she stabbed him, ceasing his movement instantly.

Amirah then wondered where the Sheik and Wise One could be. She had to find Dahab and Bahir, to see if they were even still alive.

The villagers had their own people fighting the thugs as well, both the men and the women. Amirah soon realized that hers and her small group's return had switched the balance of power in the village's favor; the bandits were retreating.

Zafir finally caught up with her. "Amirah, the Wise One and the Sheik…"

Amirah saw it in his eyes even before he could finish. "Where are they?" She swallowed.

"Come."

Dahab had obviously been raped before she had been killed. Bahir had been castrated just before his throat had been slit. Amirah tried to blink back the tears, rage filling her for these two wonderful people. "Zafir, they need to be avenged. Please tell me the bandits are retreating."

Zafir left momentarily, his face unreadable when he returned. "We have turned the tide, but there is a lot of damage. The bandits made off with a lot of the goods we brought."

"I don't care about the goods. I care about the people. What about the people?"

Zafir's voice was breaking, and Amirah couldn't look at him. "Many of the men are dead. Women have been violated, particularly the older and younger ones who didn't join the fight. Many children have been killed."

This last statement made Amirah collapse in tears. "Those monsters! How could they do this!?"

Zafir held her for a moment as she sobbed. "Zafir, we have to leave, travel North. That is our only hope. We must take as many townspeople as possible, for they are no longer safe here."

Zafir nodded, leaving to notify the others. Amirah touched the hair of the older woman, wishing her spirit well on her journey to the Otherworld. Then, something caught her gaze. Dahab had been clutching the Goddess figure, still clutched it even in death.

Amirah put the figure in her pocket next to the meteorite.

Gathering the surviving villagers was hard. Many were wounded, and many more were in shock. They didn't want to leave their home, yet they also knew that they were vulnerable, and they could be attacked again soon.

The bandits had made off with a lot of the pack animals; the villagers would have to carry what they needed, and they would have to make it mostly on foot.

After consulting with the warriors in the village and some of her own guards, they determined that the bandits had headed almost due South from the village. At least they were not traveling the direction they would be.

Amirah gathered up the surviving elderly and some of the younger children; they would ride the animals, or what was left of them.

They headed North, Mecca behind them, and the rising sun to their right. For many weeks they traveled, visiting villages along the way. The older members stayed, some of the new villagers left with them. But, always, they continued North towards the vision of the Goddess Amirah promised.

Amirah and her group traveled this way for many moons, but she knew her group was getting weary. As time wore on, her determination and desire to move to the North, where the circle of stones lay, increased. She drove the group faster, farther, but they were quickly loosing steam.

They traveled outside of Saudi Arabia to the city of Jerusalem. It was a holy city as well, but not to Amirah nor the followers of the Goddess. However, many more of her people decided to stay in Jerusalem. She wished them well, but she still wanted to continue on her way.


They had been traveling for more than a year when they finally settled in a small grouping of mountains. Amirah did this for several reasons; she and her people were tired of traveling, but she also felt the stirrings of life within her. She suspected that she was more than 3 or 4 moons along, but she knew that she could not have a baby while traveling. Other women had done it, but she refused to. This child would have a stable place, at least for the first couple years of its life.

A nearby village traded with them, and they attained much of what they needed. Again, some of the nomadic tribe remained in the village, and some from the village joined them. The love of the Goddess was very present in this place, and Amirah was feeling more and more at ease. She knew that this was not her destination, but for now, the journey would have to end.

Amirah gave birth to a little boy, much to her combined joy and disappointment. She had been hoping for a girl, but the Goddess apparently had not desired it. She named the boy Bahir after the old Sheik who had been killed.
Years passed, and the boy grew. More children were born. Amirah was closing in on her mid-thirties, and she knew that she was getting past her child-bearing age. That she would have only one child distressed her, but having more would only get in the way of her purpose. Zafir loved the boy; Amirah knew that the boy was his, and a part of her was sad for that fact. Zafir and many of the men were growing restless; they would want to go back. Every day she realized that more and more. Many missed Mecca and Saudi Arabia; that was their home. Home was not North for them.

One morning, Zafir came to Amirah along with several of the other men in the now-settled village.

"Amirah, we need to speak with you."

Amirah sighed, nodding. "I know what you are going to ask. I can not make you stay, and I know that many of you miss your homes. I can not stress enough that the Saudi Arabia that you left will be nothing like the one you will return to. How many of you will be going?"

Zafir looked back at the men. "We will all be going."

"All? The entire village?" Amirah tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat. She had not expected this.

"No, just the men. There are a few of the women coming with us, but we can not stay, Amirah."

Amirah's eyes narrowed. "Why just the men?" A silence fell.

Zafir nodded to the other men, and they left him alone with Amirah.

"Amirah, I've done a lot of thinking. The new religion has a lot to offer men. I love the Goddess; She will always have a special place in my heart because She will always be a part of you. Here, our lives and dreams diverge. You seek the Goddess to the North, but I can not be a part of that vision any longer. Neither can any of the other men in this village. Bahir wants to go with me; he is a strong boy with a lot of potential."

"Zafir, I love you. You are as much of a husband to me as any man can be. I do not want to see you go."

Zafir kneeled by her, and Amirah was reminded of how he had done the same thing to her over ten years ago. Now, however, it was to say goodbye.

"Amirah, I love you more than anything; if I knew that I could be a part of your vision, I would follow you until the end of our days. Yet even I know you are aware that that is not possible."

"I must do this alone." She admitted. "I have known that for years. I will find the island with the circle of stones on my own, alone. Soon, everyone here will go to the new religion." Her eyes were filled with tears that she couldn't shed. "Zafir, make love to me one last time before you go. Once you go, I doubt that I will ever be with another man again."

Zafir nodded. He kissed her, and Amirah gave herself completely to him. She almost hoped that she would become pregnant again, even though she had only had one child in the 15 years they had been together. Yet, that didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that night. In the morning, she awoke to find him gone. She did not rise until well after mid-day when she knew they would no longer be there.

She met with a somber scene. Of the group that had been there for over ten years, only 18 remained, all women.


Amirah looked out from the cave. Twenty years had passed since the remaining villagers had ended their journey in the mountains. The cave still faced South, towards Mecca like Amirah had always wanted. She still felt its pull just as strongly as she had felt its push. She wondered how Zafir had faired, whether he had married, whether he really had joined the new religion as he had said he would. She missed him, yet it had been his choice to go back to the South. She wondered how her son was doing; she wondered if she had any grandchildren back in Mecca.

Amirah turned to the remaining women. Since nearly all of the men had left over ten years ago, no new children had been born. The youngest girl was 11, and she would want to find a mate someday, a husband. Amirah realized that she couldn't keep them here; they needed people, needed men. They needed society as well, and they could not find it here. Either she had to lead them farther North towards the place where the old ways were still practiced or they would have to go back towards Mecca. For them as women, it meant adhering to the new religion. Amirah would not do it, yet she could not expect the others to do the same.

She held a council that night and told them what they needed to do. Some discussion ensued, and all the villagers made the decision to go back to their men. They couldn't stay there any longer.

Amirah looked out at them, all of these wonderful women, and she felt sad. She would miss them, for she would not be joining them. She would continue North, to search out the circle of stones she had heard about. She was 45 now, an old woman, and her hair was peppered with gray. It would take the rest of her life to find it.

The villagers said their goodbyes the next morning, and Amirah packed her things as well. She took the piece of meteorite and the Goddess statue. Then, without looking back towards Mecca, she headed North.

The little dark people looked up from the ceremony. An old woman, dressed in a black cloak, was walking towards them. They could barely see her features, but she was very dark with snow-white hair. She turned up her face, and she let out a choking scream as she ran towards the circle of stones. She fell to her knees, muttering in a strange language as tears streamed down her wrinkled old face.

A young woman with delicate features knelt by the old woman, trying to ease her distress. The old woman looked up at her.

"Goddess bless you." The young woman said.

The old woman knew enough of the language to know the word "Goddess." Finally, after 75 years of living, after 50 years searching for followers of the Goddess, she had finally found them. Amirah wept, letting the young woman comfort her in supple arms.

Here, the Goddess truly was.

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Daffodils

It was the night before All Hallow's Eve, and the once-green leaves of the daffodils lay in little brown nests upon the mulched earth. For all practical purposes, they appeared dead, but beneath the ground, the bulbs, the life, the true souls of the plants, were taking the last remnants of energy from the slumbering earth into themselves. The first frost sent other plants only meant for a season of life to their terminal graves. But, for flowers like the daffodils, it was only a brief time of darkness before the rebirth.

More than a month passed. The days grew shorter and the world died its yearly death. Snow fell in early December, covering the earth with an unending, silvery-white pall. The above-ground corpses of the daffodils seemed to be little more than shapeless lumps beneath the snow.

Beneath the earth on Midwinter, the bulbs felt the warmth that seemed to not exist in the world above. Of course, they had never truly stilled but had only gone into a brief hibernation. The wind was icy and fierce above ground, yet below the bulbs waited. They waited for the warmth, the first waking stirrings of spring.

For a month, the bulbs rested. They rested and waited for the first calls of the Goddess to awaken them. It was now late January, and Bridget's Day lay only a few days away. The days were now considerably longer, and spring fought the icy hold of winter upon the earth. Snow melted, and the days did not seem to be quite as cold anymore. Beneath the hard-packed ground, the bulbs moved ever so slightly. They sensed the warmth, knew that their rebirth was imminent. No light reached them; none needed to, for they were awakened by warmth and by the call of the Green Lady.

Bridget's Day came and went, and Valentine's Day brought on several days of temperatures in the 60s. The bulbs began beneath the soil to start stretching their green to the surface. No one saw the first stirrings, yet they would within a few days.

Late February saw the first green leaves pop through the surface. An early-spring snow and frigid temperatures held them back, but they grew slowly, testing out the world outside. They remained tight and impervious to the cold. Even sub-zero temperatures could not kill them.

A few more warm days passed. The green leaves of the daffodils were now clearly visible, but they still remained tightly together. It was a good thing that they did, because early March brought the coldest temperatures felt that season, and most other plants would have seen their deaths before they had ever felt life.

The Equinox was only weeks away, and the daffodils felt the call of the season beckoning them to full blossom. They knew they only had a few more weeks to complete their cycle. They would bloom before the days equaled the nights.
Warm days followed cold; the weather remained variable and very unpredictable. The leaves of the daffodils would have to expand to the warmth if they ever hoped to bloom, but the weather threatened to clip the tender, unprotected extremities should they not remain constantly on their guard. Yet, still, the daffodils continued to grow.

Two weeks before the Equinox, tear-drop shaped yellow buds peaked from the young green leaves. They would not bloom, not yet. Cold days still came and went, but the flowers bid their time. They would only bloom once the cold ceased to be a threat. This went on for over a week. Their heads bobbed like yellow snakes, yet they refused to open.

The Equinox was only days away. Two days in a row the thermostat topped 70. First one, then two, then more flowers slowly began to open. Their beauty and hope was contagious; their appearance was the true sign that winter had finally left the world and summer would soon be on its way. Their sun-like heads nodded and swayed in the warm breeze. They had fought hard, had emerged long before the other plants and flowers had shyly decided to appear. For weeks, the hardy flowers sang the anthem to spring. Then, as if on cue, the flowers withered and melted away.

Their job was done. They had announced spring. Soon, the leaves would also wither away just as the other plants were coming into their prime. The bulbs would then go back into hibernation and wait until the cold season had come.

Thus, the cycle would begin again.

BACK TO THE TOP

Rising Waning Moon

The night was cool and humid in a way that only a late-summer night could be at three in the morning. Insects still chirped, but in the rustling trees, birds began to stir as if the invisible Sun pulled at their consciousness. One uttered a single note in half-sleep, but still they slept on. When the sky began to turn deep, navy blue, they would begin to awaken and sing. But their hour had not come yet.

It was as much night as it had been hours before, only cooler. A breeze blew from the North, taking the temperature down a few degrees. Twelve hours before, the blazing August sun had pushed temperatures into the mid-nineties, but like any clear day, the oppressive heat vanished into the vacant sky after sunset. Now, the thermostat read a full thirty degrees cooler than it had been at full day.

No human was awake, none other than myself of course. Over the Northeastern horizon, the sky was an eerie shade of black-peach from the city lights twenty-odd miles away. An ancient human would have guessed predawn or even distant forest fires, yet, it was the pressing influence of crowded city humanity that created those lights. I looked due East and checked my watch in the stark whiteness of the streetlamps; it was past three-thirty, and I knew from my calendar that the moon would be rising in less than fifteen minutes. I moved closer to the woods, out of the light and away from possible prying eyes, though I suspected none at this hour. The common ground was open and exposed, yet too far into the woods would obscure my view of the rising moon. I stayed towards the perimeter, canopied only by small persimmon and fledgling ash.

I could always hear the sound of air conditioners, riverboats on the Mississippi five miles away, and the constant hum of insects all around me. Even the music of frogs could be heard. The night was far from quiet, but it had a mystical silence about it that was unlike the roar of daytime activity. Sights, sounds, and smells all were in sharp focus. Dew soaked the blanket I put down even before I had the chance to sit on it.

The still, black trees in the East let a small sliver of bright light through them behind the houses I faced. I couldn't be sure yet, but I somehow knew that it was the Waning Crescent Moon peeking through the trees to shed Her slowly diminishing light onto the sleeping earth. Had I lived even a couple hundred years ago, the light of the Moon would have been the only light for miles around. Here, She was only one of many lights but still the brightest and greatest in the night sky. Only the Sun outshone Her.

I stuck the incense stick into the damp earth. The grass was cold and wet and smelled of dirt and baked wild onion. I set the ivory-colored candle pillar right next to it, then took out my lighter to light the wick and the incense. A wisp of smoke and flame licked at the air.

I looked up again, seeing the first sickle of Moon rise above the trees. There was a pulse to the air, a music, a sound. I could not tell if it was the riverboats or distant cars. I only knew that those sounds were married to that ancient sight. How many times had the Moon rose and set? How many billions of years had the Moon graced the Earth with Her never-ending waxing and waning?

The ancient power of the Crone beat in the Waning Moon's beauty -- powerful, dying, almost sad. One cycle was ending and another one was nearing its birth. There was a different sort of melody attached to the Waning Moon. I was reminded of Samhain, of cool nights such as this existing in late October. It was as if the power of the Crone transported me to that time where time didn't really exist. For a few minutes, I didn't exist in this space of the universe but rather outside of it. I was a watcher, an on-looker. I was totally alone yet not. I had the universe and all of these spirits around me. Insects shared in my experience. But no human did. Would I react differently if others were around me? Would I feel this way with even a close friend beside me?

I could be naked to the world, naked to the Moon, and She and the world would only placidly and acceptingly look down upon me and within me. I communed with them. I was very much a part of them, and I realized I was not separate from them at all. The thin, diminished sliver of the Moon rose higher and higher. It was magick, power. It was heading close to morning, but sunrise was still hours away.

I stood up, feeling the cool dampness of pre-dawn on my skin. I took off my shirt, feeling the slight breeze tickle my body. I took off my pants, my undergarments. I stood naked and open, my skin bluish-pink in the Crone's light.
I was the only person alive, the only one in existence. I could feel the grass beneath my feet, feel the pulse of the world, feel everything in the universe. I closed my eyes.

It was a mystical time, three in the morning on an August night with the Waning Crescent Moon rising slowly from the horizon. It is a mystical time. I still remember those nights, for there were several, and they were all like that night when I enjoyed that reflection with that ancient power.

It still reminds me of that time, over four years ago, when I first became Pagan. The world could be going to pieces, things could be turning to chaos, yet there is always the Goddess, always the Divine. I can truly hear that spirit when I am alone and within the natural world, yet I have also heard it in places I would not expect it. But I always remember those nights with the Rising Waning Moon, and it is a magickal time for me. Within that special time and place that can be recaptured by only closing my eyes, I am not alone, but at One with the Mother of us all.

BACK TO THE TOP

A Creation Story

A long, long time ago before time was, there was blackness. There was nothingness. The world did not exist, nor the sun, the moon, or the universe. The web that interconnects us all did not even exist. There was only the void and the Goddess.

The Goddess both came from and was the creator of this void. She spoke often to the void, but the void never answered back. This grew tiring for Her as this went on for a long time even though time had still not been created.

She needed companions. She needed Others, but how to make them? She remembered creating and being created from the void. She thought about how she had helped make that void and how She had come from it as well. She knew that She would not create these companions like objects but rather they would be as much a part of Her as She was of them. They would be Her first children.

The Goddess gave birth to four children. They were all like Her - created from and of the void. She gave them names - Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. She talked with them often, and She felt much less lonely than before. But they were still part of a void, and they had no place to exist, nothing solid or physical.

The Goddess said to Her children, "We need a place. I have given birth to you four, and you are both co-creators as well as creations of Me. I want you to take part in the creation of this universe from the void."

Fire said the world needed light and warmth, heat and change. Without heat and fire, there can be no change. "We need a Sun." She said. So the Goddess asked Fire to create a Sun. A Sun was created, and the darkness and void had within it its first solid body. For the first time, there was the magick of sight.

The five of them were very impressed. The other three children couldn't think of anything anywhere nearly as impressive. Finally, Earth stepped forward.

"We need an Earth. On this Earth, we can have many more creations. With the light of the Sun, the Earth will be illuminated, and with the heat of the Sun, the creations will thrive." So the Earth was created, though it was barren still of life. But all were still very impressed, and Fire was pleased that Earth had thought of her when Earth had made the Earth.

Water and Air looked at each other. Certainly, nothing could top a Sun and an Earth?

Air stepped forward. "The Earth needs an atmosphere so that the creations upon it can breath. The atmosphere will move the winds so that there will be weather and the Sun's healing heat can be evenly distributed. That is my contribution."

The Goddess smiled upon Air. It wasn't a large creation, but it was still a very powerful and necessary creation. "Because of your modesty, My Daughter, I will let you create one other thing."

Air thought about it. "We need a universe. I will not exist in this universe, but we need the void to expand and become substantial. There will be many things in this universe, not just the Sun and the Earth. There will be many Suns and Earths, but none as nearly as special as our Sun and Earth."

All of them smiled as the atmosphere and universe were created, then all turned to Water.

Water had been silent. She was the most quiet of them all. "The Earth needs oceans, lakes, streams, rivers, and ponds. I will contribute them."

The Goddess smiled. "You, just like Air, have also been modest. You may create one more thing."

Water smiled. "I want to create the Moon. The Moon will always circle the Earth but reflect the light of the Sun. The Moon will control the tides of the oceans and the emotions of the Earth's creations. She will be forever tied to the Earth and the Sun and they to her."

So the Moon was created. There was wind, water, the Earth, and the Sun. The universe contained all of them and much more. But still, more was needed.

Earth had spoken of creations. The Goddess took Her four children aside and they discussed what would be needed. At once, the Goddess gave birth to creatures of the air, the water, and the land. She gave birth to plants, trees, fish, birds, and land animals of all kinds.

Fire looked sad, and the Goddess asked why. "I have no creatures in my realm." Fire said.

"But, your Sun's light will nurture them and give them life. Without the Sun, all of these beings would die." And Fire smiled.

The Goddess, Fire, Water, Air, and Earth were very happy with what they had co-created. The animals were wonderful, and the plants gave color and life to the Earth. Soon, the five of them co-created other things. Seasons were put into play, and one day Fire sneezed and Stars were created. Other heavenly bodies were created such as comets, asteroids, and meteors.

But still, they wanted more, particularly the Goddess.

The Goddess loved all of Her creations and co-creations and children. She loved Her four daughters dearly, but She longed for highly intelligent beings that could also share the Earth. She thought long and hard and for many, many years as the Earth passed through its seasons and the Moon through its cycles.

One day the Goddess gathered Earth, Air, Fire, and Water to Her. "I want to co-create something special. I will call my creation Human. Human will have all of the attributes of you four but something much more. Earth - Human will have a body that comes from you. Air - they will have the breath of life just as all of my Earth's Children do. Water - they will be of you and made of you. And Fire - they will have body heat just as some of my children do. They will have the need to change but also the will and intelligence to change."

"But how will this Human be any different from the other Earth's creatures?" Earth asked.

"They will be highly intelligent, and they will have self-awareness. They will understand the Divine and how I have co-created them. They themselves will be creators and co-creators, just like us. They will be of the Spirit just like us."

"What is this 'Spirit'?" Fire asked.

"All of my children have this Spirit; I gave birth to her many years ago just after you four. Yet, you can not see her. You can not speak to her. She is of us and of me. She is of the universe and everything that exists within it. You can not separate her from everything around us."

The four daughters were disappointed. They had always thought that they were the favored children. They had always assumed that other than the Goddess's Earth Children, they were the only other ones.

"I also need a companion. I need another co-creator. He will be my equal in power, and He will be as much of a creator of Me as I of Him. I will call him God."

The Goddess, much to the dismay of the four daughters, went about to create and co-create the God. They were distrustful of this Divine being who was male. All Divine beings up until this point had been female.

But the God made the Goddess very happy, and from Their bodies came Human. Human was Their most prized co-creation.

The four daughters talked among themselves one day. Fire said, "God is greater than us now. The Humans are also above us. We were once Divine beings just like the Goddess. Now we are just other creations of Hers."

Water looked worried. "But, Fire. She had us create all of these heavenly bodies. She had you create the Sun."

"You created the Moon and the Oceans. She gave you more because of your 'modesty.'" Fire snapped. The others were taken aback. Never had Fire or any of them talked that way to the others.

"I was given the least. Everyone thinks the Sun is so great, but Air got the winds, the weather, and the universe. Water got the power of control over Earth's creatures as well as the control of the Moon and the tides. And you, Earth, got everything physical and Earth-bound. You were given the origin of all life."

The other three tried to talk to Fire to reason with her, but she wouldn't listen. Fire stormed off, determined to talk to the Goddess and this new God.

"Goddess, I need to speak to You."

The Goddess took Her daughter into herself, loving Fire as much as any of Her other children. "What is it, My Daughter?"

"Why have You created the God and Humans? Don't you love myself and my sisters anymore?"

The Goddess smiled, having seen this coming. "Fire, I love all of my children and co-creations. You are no different. I simply have wanted more. You have been my model for everything I have ever birthed. But those things male and of the God are also important. I am needful of Him and He of me."

Fire pushed the Goddess away. "But we were first!"

The Goddess sighed patiently. "Fire, I love you."

Fire went away, and in anger, she took away the Sun. On the Earth, she lit fires from both within and outside of the Earth. Many of the Earth's children died. Those that did not die because of the fires died for lack of it from the sky. The Goddess, the daughters, and the God looked for Fire but could not find her. The Goddess had never treated Her daughter with anything but love, but now, She knew that Fire, when found, would have to be punished.

The God was the first to find Fire. Fire looked at the God with mistrust and hate. He had taken everything away from her in her mind.

"Fire, why do you hate Me?"

"She loves you more than She does Her own daughters!"

"I am as much Her Son as Her Mate and Lover. You are also Her equal. Come, Fire, come back to us."

When the Goddess came and found Fire, She was furious. "Fire, you have destroyed so much of what your sisters have created and co-created. How can you do this?"

"Goddess, you have abandoned me. You have abandoned us. For this I can never forgive you."

The God came forward, taking both Mother and Daughter by hand and putting them back together again. There was only love and hurt in the Goddess's eyes and rage and pain in Fire's eyes.

"Fire, I love you, but you must be punished. The Sun will be taken away from you and all of your influence and power on Earth. You will always be my daughter, but from this day forward, you will have no power in this universe."

The God spoke up. "Goddess, My Love, perhaps there can be another solution. Take me back into yourself and give Fire back her powers. She is still Your daughter."

The Goddess shook Her head. "No, but if it is your wish, I will let her have one thing - fire. You will be in charge of the Sun from now on, God. Fire will have control over her domain on Earth but nowhere else."

Fire pulled away, distraught and hurt but looked with newfound respect for the God. He had been willing to sacrifice Himself for her.

"Fire must also give her element to Humans to use. She must teach them how to use fire and tame it."

Fire was agape. She had lost everything in the span of moments. "Goddess, if I am truly co-creator and your equal, you can not do this to me!" Fire then went away, furious and hurt.

When the other daughters found out about Fire's punishment, they were angry for her. Yes, she had destroyed much, but she had still been called co-creator to the Goddess and therefore was supposed to be here equal. If Fire had been punished for disagreement with the Goddess, couldn't they be as well?

Water, being the emotional daughter, made the Moon turn away from the inhabitants of the Earth. Air created large storms and gale winds, and she worked with Water to create hurricanes. Earth created large earthquakes; from within the Earth, she conjured volcanoes that spewed large quantities of dust into the atmosphere, blocking out the Sun's rays.

The Goddess could not believe Her other three daughters would also rebel. She asked the God what She should do.
"My Love and My Mother, they are Your daughters. You must listen to them and let them make their own choices. They are not Your slaves; they are Your co-creators and creators. Show them only love just as You have shown Me only love."

The Goddess called out to Her daughters, and they came to Her. Three days had passed since the other three daughters had started their revolt.

"My daughters, I have been wrong about what I have done to you. Where is Fire?"

Fire appeared next to her other sisters, happy that they had stood with her and had been by her side the entire time.
"Fire, you are right. I have no right to punish you. I have no right to punish any of my creations and children. I should have listened to you and your sisters better. I have spoken with God, and He has let Me see the error of My thinking."

The four daughters joined their Goddess and Mother. Earth spoke. "Goddess, whenever I am angry in the future, I will conjure the earthquakes. That is my power."

Air spoke. "Goddess, when I am frustrated, storms will erupt. Storms are a natural part of the Earth, but they will worsen when I am angry."

Water spoke. "Goddess, I am the quietest of your daughters. The Moon's light has gone away for three days, and it will continue to do so for the rest of eternity to forever remind you of what happened here. The Moon will affect the creatures of the Earth and the winds of the atmosphere. That way you will know that when you affect one of us, you will always affect the other three."

Finally, Fire stepped forward. "Goddess, You have taken the Sun away from me. I know that I have done bad, and I accept what I have lost. I willingly now give the Sun to my Father and co-creator the God for it will belong to Him always. I will show my anger through uncontrollable fires on the Earth, but the Sun will always be His."

Fire looked lovingly at the God, and He smiled at her. He accepted her gift.

The Goddess took Her family into Her arms, and they were as One again.

Fire taught fire-making to humanity, and the Sun always belonged to the God from that day forward. Water continued her promise of the Moon, and the Goddess always listened to Her children.

The Goddess thought long and hard about what gift She should bestow upon Humans. She had not given them anything yet since She had been busy with Her daughters and the God. One day, She asked Fire what She should do.
Fire said. "I think You should let them figure it out individually, just as You did with us. Everyone one of them can then think of a way to find their own gifts."

So it was so. The Goddess let the Humans decide what their gifts would be when they decided for themselves what they truly desired. But perhaps the greatest gift She gave to them was the freedom of their own personal choice.

BACK TO THE TOP

Priestess

Brighid was a priestess. Of course, Brighid was not her real name, but it was a name she had taken upon entering into the priestesshood. All young priestesses did the same, taking on a name and persona of the Goddess they served.

Brighid had decided to enter into the priestesshood when she was 25; ever since she had become Pagan, she had longed to devote her life to the Pagan ways, but no other way had quite satisfied what she really wanted to do with her life. She had tried education and had received two bachelors degrees, both with honors. She did everything that she believed society wanted, but nothing fulfilled her spiritually. Nothing, of course, until she had become a priestess.

Her parents and family had not been very happy with her decision - they were Christians after all. Not that she minded their religious beliefs; their beliefs were their own and none of her concern. Yet the fact that she practiced the Old Ways and had done so for over five years disturbed them; they did not trust the Old Ways. Many non-Pagans did not.

The Old Ways had resurfaced after nearly two thousand years of sleep, brought on by the so-called neopagans. The religion grew slowly at first, then faster as the age of computers and the internet brought information about Paganism to people who had never even heard of Pagans. Once arcane information only accessible to elders became available to everyone, and people liked what they read and saw and heard.

Due to the popularity of this nature-based egalitarian religion that was both old and new, temples had been formed, and where temples rose, those to keep and uphold their values had also come to fill the niche. Small groups with even smaller budgets had formed nearly fifty years before the first temple had been built, and these early neopagans had rented old gymnasiums within old city schools and other inadequate accommodations to practice their religion. During the late 2030s, money had been raised enough to renovate an old church building in one mid-western city. Taxes had been paid, and hard work, sweat, and hours of manual labor had made the first Pagan temple a reality.

Since that day, temples had begun forming all over the country, first only in the bigger cities, then finally in the smaller towns. And first, most of these temples were within the cities themselves, then many moved outward - into the countryside.

The Old Religion had grown from only a few thousand reclusive elders to the millions. Many, particularly in the late 20th and early 21st century, feared that the Pagan religion's popularity would dilute it and make it less open-minded and free than it had been. Fortunately, its increase did not lead to over-control and standardization of the religion. Instead, it increased the flexibility and wide range of beliefs within. For as more and more curious people had come into the Old Ways, dissatisfied with the status quo, the more variety and acceptance had entered in. The exact opposite had occurred from the expectations of the skeptics.

Many, particularly of the elders, feared increased exposure. They feared for their jobs, for their social statuses, for their families, and other phantom demons. At first, there were problems. The first Pagan temple endured vandalism of many kinds from spray-painting to fire. But even with these early set-backs, the increase of the temples ensued. The law was still on the side of those who were persecuted, and all injustices were eventually rectified.

Years passed, and the Old Ways had become more accepted. Mistrust and fear still abounded, and among certain fundamentalist Christian groups, persecution still held fast. But the majority of the population at most expressed curiosity and a desire to learn more about it and at least showed tolerance.

Such was the environment that Brighid lived in. The temple she had recently joined had only been in existence for a few years. It was the city's fifth temple, and it had been built much farther out than the other temples. Many had wondered if such a temple would attract the needed monies to keep it open and support the priestesses and priests that lived there; to date, there were only six - four priestesses and two priests. So far, attendance had been good, and the temple had thrived.

Many different traditions of Paganism existed within each temple, often temples with as many as twenty priests and priestesses had fifteen or more traditions represented within. Many of these traditions were individual traditions - traditions that had come about as a result of personal study and reflection. Such individualism was encouraged at these temples, and as long as traditions were honored and respected, no one would be turned away from wanting to be a priest or priestess. But, the lifestyle was not for everyone. Certain rules did apply, and as long as everyone within a temple could get along, even these rules could be flexible. As a result, one temple at the edge of town could have a completely different style from the one within the city proper.

Brighid started her day with a meditation. She had so much to learn from the other priestesses and priests, but she knew that learning first came from within. Most priestesses and priests entered the temple after having had a powerful religious experience. While Brighid had had a powerful religious experience that had brought her to the Old Ways over five years previous, dissatisfaction with her life and a desire to truly live the Old Ways had been her true motivation to join the temple. She was the newest initiate.

Within the temple, there were mundane tasks such as cleaning, tending to the herbs and plants, mending clothing, and general upkeep. Such chores were a part of daily life, yet none there resented them. They were all part of a small community, and the temple had to be kept tidy for guests. Guests ranged from Pagans of all kinds - from Asatru, Santerians, or Wiccans - to the simply curious - lapse Christians, Hindus seeking something different from their own temple, or Jews - to those who wished to become Pagans themselves. The priestesses and priests treated each with respect and dignity, and unless someone created problems, all were welcomed back if they wished.

There were also less mundane tasks. Priests and priestesses, whether they had been there ten years or ten months, were on equal footing. Casually-applied status was often given to those who had been there longer, but no one was treated as an inferior if they had been there less time. Brighid found herself the center of attention in fact; there hadn't been a new initiate in over a year at this particular temple, and they were happy to have her there. Beltane was also approaching, and Brighid knew well what that would mean for a new initiate, particularly a woman. She was excited and nervous at the same time.

New initiates were encouraged to meditate, and the others in the temple often helped the new initiate learn new techniques they may not have picked up through their Pagan studies. Depending upon the tradition, magick was learned or refined. One quality that was preferred but not required was that possible initiates have been Pagan for at least three years and have been within the community for at least one. Those just curious about Paganism and the lifestyle of the priests and priestesses were not encouraged to become a priest or priestess, but of course were not discouraged from coming to Sabbats and full moon rituals. Married individuals in most instances were discouraged from joining, particularly if they had children. The first year was seen as more of a trial period for new initiates, and often, those who did not fit in with the culture of one particular temple would fit in wonderfully within another. Again, the lifestyle was not for just anyone.

Brighid had been there for a full year; she had joined in April of the previous year. She loved her temple mates, and she felt at home with the duties and joys of being a priestess. Hecate was the oldest there and had been the one to found the temple. She had been Pagan for nearly all of her life and a priestess for fifteen years. She was the unspoken matriarch of the temple, and everyone saw her as the leader. Epona had come to the temple four years ago, back when it had been first built. She had been going through a divorce at the time, and Hecate had wondered if she would be able to handle the lifestyle as a priestess. Epona had come to be one of the strongest priestesses in all of the temples throughout the city. Inanna was the youngest, and had grown up Pagan. At twenty, she had become a very powerful priestess, and she was very serious about her religion. In many ways, Brighid envied the young blond woman's determination and devotion. Inanna was an old soul.

Of the priests, both men were young. Shiva had been brought up Hindu and was a strict vegetarian. Many of his Hindu beliefs he had brought with him into Paganism. The other young man Cuchulain had quickly formed a connection with Brighid. He was young at 23, quite shy, but handsome in a very Irish way. His reddish-blond hair fell in waves, and his clear, blue eyes were startling to look at. He was a very devoted priest, though, and while marriages between temple mates often occurred, leading to both leave the temple and have a family, Brighid knew that for now at least, their main dedication was to their religion. Still, they shared a common tradition, and they obviously had a very strong attraction.

Sex was seen as natural and good with Paganism, however, and sexual relationships were not discouraged. Brighid knew that pregnancy would not be good for either of them, but they often shared a bed at night. Many priests and priestesses had relationships with others outside of the temple, and some had left, but for the most part, such relationships did not last.

These six temple mates lived as a family unit and worked to support the community at large. They were there to keep the temple in good order so that others could enjoy the services of the temple.

Beltane was a Sabbat that marked the beginning of Summer and the start of the light half of the year in some traditions. Not all Pagan traditions celebrated Beltane, but most did. The festivities of Beltane were the most kept-quiet secret of the Pagan community. Only those who were Pagan knew about many of the activities associated with Beltane. Not only would many non-pagans not be very understanding, but the activities, particularly those between priestess and priest, could be seen by some as nothing short of prostitution in some cases, even though no money was ever exchanged. Although promiscuity was discouraged, no priest or priestess was forbidden to have sex with anyone they wanted to have sex with. Along the same line, however, no one was ever forced to have sex with someone they didn't want to have sex with.

Beltane was a fertility Sabbat, marking the marriage between the God and Goddess in some traditions. Often at each temple, a priest and priestess would be chosen to bless the land by joining somewhere in the property of the temple. If weather was good, it was done outside. This year, the weather had been warm but not hot, and the forecast for the next week predicted nothing but clear skies.

Sometimes there wasn't compatibility between any priest and priestess in a temple. In this case, the chosen priestess for that year would choose a lover for the night. Since Brighid had been with the temple for only a year, she had been chosen as the priestess to be the Goddess representative - the May Queen. Inanna had been chosen the year Brighid had joined.

At first, the decision of who would be the God representative - the May King - had been obvious. One evening, windows open, letting the late April breeze flow through the temple, Brighid had asked Cuchulain after they had made love.

Cuchulain looked at her, the pale light of an almost full moon making their naked skin look almost blue. "I don't think so, Brighid."

Brighid sat up. "Why not? We are lovers; it would be perfectly natural. We don't have to do it where anyone can see us you know. As the priestess, I have the right to choose my lover, and I choose you."

Cuchulain visibly blushed, but not from her words. "Brighid, you know I'm shy. I can't do this, as much as I'd like to. I came into the priesthood as a representative of the God, but I came as a warrior, not a lover. I don't like attention focused on me. I can call a quarter, I can even become the God in a circle, but I can't make love to you while everyone knows about it. Right now, we are a secret essentially. Our temple mates know, but that is it. I am fine with that. But I'm not fine with the entire community knowing."

Brighid looked disappointed. "But I wanted you. I'll have to choose someone else, and there is only one more week to decide! Not only that, I don't want another lover right now."

Cuchulain kissed her. "I know, and we should have talked about this sooner. Maybe I'll change my mind on Beltane, but somehow I doubt it. You don't have to choose until the night of Beltane; there will be plenty of men there to choose from. Any one of them I'm sure will be happy to be God for the evening… and your lover as well." He smiled at her and winked.

It was Brighid's turn to blush. "I'm not that pretty. The only reason would be that I'm a priestess."

He tickled her, and she stifled her scream. "You drive me nuts sometimes, Brighid. You are so pretty yet so damned insecure sometimes. You should see how men look at you. Without a chosen partner, you will have quite a difficult choice to make I'm sure. Old and young alike, you'll have dozens wanting to be your lover that night."

"Hmpf." Brighid was still skeptical, yet she had seen last year the result of Inanna not having had a partner by Beltane. Inanna was very pretty, but the men who had come forward to be her lover for Beltane had been staggering.

Days passed, and it was quiet at the temple. It usually was before a major Sabbat. Some Pagans came in to meditate, and a few curious Pagans looked at Inanna and Brighid as if wondering which one would be May Queen this year. Often, these curious parties would look at Inanna and Brighid before finally looking at Brighid, smiling, then leaving with a knowing look on their faces. Brighid knew it was well known that one-year initiates were nearly always chosen over their more seasoned temple mates, but that was never a guarantee. Still, Hecate was too old, Epona had not been May Queen since Inanna had come to the temple two years ago, and Inanna had been May Queen last year. It was logical.

Preparations needed to be made. Flowers had to be cut, altar decorations needed to be made and set out, circlets needed to be woven, food needed to be made, and the May Pole needed to be erected outside. There was a place for it indoors, but the weather had been cooperating perfectly, so the six of them spent one afternoon cutting, decorating, and setting up the May Pole at its designated place outside. Oatmeal cakes and dairy dishes had been baked or prepared. Only a token amount would be made; it was asked that people would bring dishes as well. The temple couldn't afford a huge amount of food; it depended largely on donations, and the priests and priestesses lived simply.

Sabbats were usually held on a Saturday closest to the actual Sabbat. This year, the full moon also fell on Beltane, a sign that spoke of magick and mystery. Brighid was so nervous that she doubted she could go through with her duties for that night. She almost asked Inanna to take her place - Brighid could always do it next year, right?

Brighid shook her head, knowing perfectly well that was not what she wanted. She had wanted to do this for many years, since she had first joined the Pagan community four years ago and had seen a Beltane ritual for the first time. She would kick herself if she backed out now.

Brighid had to prepare herself physically before Pagans began to arrive sometime after 7. Arrival time was supposed to be 6:30, but even after over five decades, the old joke about "Pagan standard" still applied. It was understood that the ritual would not begin until 8 pm, even though it was supposed to begin at 7:30 sharp.

Brighid went into the bath at 5 to begin her preparations. She shaved, she washed, then waited for Hecate to come in to help her finish her preparations. Brighid was visibly flushed and shaky when Hecate finally came in, and Brighid's terrified look made Hecate almost smile in amusement and understanding.

"Nervous?" The older woman asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"You don't know the half of it. I'm terrified. I'm afraid what I say tonight will come out as a squawk rather than a speech. I've never had performance anxiety like this."

"It is nerve-racking. I remember my first Beltane; I threw up twice that day. Brighid, I never told anyone this before, but I couldn't… perform… my duties when I was first chosen. I simply couldn't do it. I guess part of it was that I didn't know the man very well. He was very understanding, though, and in our own way, we celebrated Beltane." Hecate helped Brighid put on her robes and her face decorations while she spoke.

"I'm sorry it wasn't the experience you were expecting, Hecate." Brighid looked at the older woman carefully. Hecate was wise and powerful, but she was only human.

"Oh, it wasn't an awful experience. I did finally warm up to his caresses, but we never did have intercourse. I wasn't a virgin or anything; at least we as neopagans don't do that anymore!

"But I'm sure you'll do fine, Brighid. I feel it. There is a magick in the air this night, and I know you will find a wonderful lover."

Brighid's eyes widened. "How did you know Cuchulain wouldn't be my lover this night?"

Hecate smiled. "He is very shy. He can be a very powerful priest, but what is required of him I could not see him doing."

"The games?" Brighid asked, referring to the competition before the May King was chosen by the May Queen to be her lover for the night. All men interested had to compete in a game; it was all in fun, and it often had little bearing on who would be eventually chosen, but it was part of the festivities. Sometimes humiliating jibes and jokes were part of it, though feelings were rarely hurt. Brighid had to smile. Hecate was right - neither of them could see Cuchulain being the object of sexually-explicit jokes, even if they were in pure fun.

Brighid bit her lip. "Hecate, I don't know if I can go through with this."

Hecate looked into Brighid's eyes. "You don't have to, Brighid. We can still ask Inanna if that is what you really want."

Brighid stared at the floor for a moment. "No, I couldn't do that. This has been what I wanted for a long time. I couldn't bring myself to say no."

Brighid set up the Southern corner - the direction and element of fire. For as long as she had been at the temple, she had been the designated fire-caller. They did switch elements occasionally, but most found an element they preferred and stuck with it. In the West, Cuchulain set his favorite shell-bowl up. Brighid looked at him longingly, and he smiled when he caught her eyeing him. She felt her loins stir.

Having so few priests and priestesses caused the problem of finding enough people to fill the roles of quarter callers, circle blessers, and God and Goddess evokers and invokers. With only six people, Brighid had to call her usual element of Fire, even though in larger temples, the task would have been placed on another priest or priestess, given Brighid's heightened roll in the ceremonies this night.

Inanna was getting set up in the East and Shiva in the North. In the center of the circle, Hecate and Epona made the final preparations to the altar. All day the group had worked to make the temple space presentable. Volunteers had come in to help, but they had only been there for the last half hour.

The night was falling fast outside, and the gentle breeze came through the temple windows, leaving the inhabitants to believe they were truly outside rather than in the temple. Outside, they could see the ribbons of the May Pole blowing in the breeze, and a full moon began its ascent into the horizon in the East.

A small crowd of 70 or so people was waiting to be ushered into the main worship area of the temple just after 7:30 pm. A volunteer came out, letting them know that it was time.

Epona took a lily blossom, dipped the petals in rose water, and blessed the people as they entered into the temple. Pagans followed in a circle around the quarter-callers, and Epona took her place in the center of the circle. Brighid looked nervously around for a suitable man. It was getting dark, and facial features were obscured, making it hard to see many of them.

It was quiet, and Brighid knew that Hecate would begin the magick of Beltane at any moment. No God would be called, at least not yet, not until a May King had been chosen. Brighid's heart raced as she slowly looked at the darkened faces around the circle. None appealed to her, at least that she could see. She became terrified that she would not be able to settle on a May King… and then she found him.

He was not the most handsome man there. Judging by what facial features she could see, he was older, perhaps forty or so but in good shape, though stocky and not very tall. He had a fine beard and strong features, and even in the dim light, she could see his blue eyes. She had never seen this man before, or if she had, she hadn't really noticed, though she doubted that would have been possible. No, he was certainly not the most handsome man there, but there was a magnetism that convinced her that she had to choose him this night.

Brighid couldn't keep her eyes off of him. Finally, she came back into this time and this place as Hecate began to speak of the magick of Beltane.

"Our ancestors years ago marked this as the beginning of Summer and the light half of the year. This is the time of the Goddess and the growing season. The Celts would run their cattle through the Bel-fires to purify them of sickness and protect them in the coming year, and they would choose a maiden to come as the Goddess to lay with the God. Their union would bless the land and make sure the crops would grow from the soil and give prosperity in the coming year…" Hecate went on about the magick and history, walking the circle as she went. Brighid hardly heard her, until Hecate stopped in front of her saying, "and the May Queen chose her consort the May King, and they made love this night, to be at one with Lord and Lady and become them for this one night."

All eyes were on Brighid as Hecate continued around the circle. Finally, Hecate nodded to Epona to cast the circle.

Epona started in the East with a bundle of lilies, saying as she went, "I bless this circle, the circle is cast, all within shall be protected, no harm shall come to any within, blessed are all we Pagan children, the circle is open but not unbroken, here I go thrice about, to cast all negativity out…" She went three times around, then walked to her place in the middle of the circle, next to Hecate.

All faced East, and Inanna, her powerful, beautiful voice singing out as she called the element of Air. The wind blew through the temple, blowing Inanna's gossamer yellow gown in the breeze. "So mote it be!" She said at last.

Brighid lit her candle, having done this dozens and dozens of times over the past year. "Spirits of the South, element of Fire, Salamanders, come to us tonight to bless and protect this circle and all within. You are our body heat, our will to change, our passion, our courage, our lust, and our sexuality. Join us now, fiery spirits. Blessed be!"

Brighid felt eyes on her back. Never before had this unnerved her, but she was sure one pair of eyes in particular was staring almost through her. She turned towards the West where Cuchulain had begun to call Water, and she avoided looking over in the man's direction.

Shiva called North, his most favored direction. After he finished, all eyes fell to the center of the circle where Epona and Hecate beckoned for Brighid to come forward.

Hecate began, placing her right hand on Brighid's forehead, "Tonight we call upon the Maiden to bless this woman on her first time as May Queen. This woman will be the Maiden tonight, and she will go to the bed of the May King not as a woman but as the Maiden Lady Herself."

Brighid felt light-headed and momentarily disoriented as she always did when the Goddess was invoked and resided within her. She felt the Maiden's power inside of her, and clarity stronger and more intense than her normal waking self filled her. She watched through the eyes of the Maiden as the Mother was invoked into Epona. Finally, Hecate invoked the Crone within herself, and the three women turned to face the circle as the Triple Goddess incarnate.

"We will raise energy." Hecate/Crone said. "Feel the power of the Earth enter into your feet, come up your legs, into your body, down through your arms and fingers, and through the top of your head, letting it fall around you like a cone of power. Starting in the East, join hands, adding your voice as we go around the room."

Brighid held hands with Hecate and Epona as they started the hum. Brighid heard around the room the hum begin to build as the circle of energy was created. As of its own volition, the hum grew to a dull roar as the energy raised, soared, increased, and danced about the room.

"Come together! Move to the center of the circle; raise your voices higher!" Hecate almost screamed.

Brighid felt the surge of power escalate into a frenzy as the circle grew tighter. Her entire body vibrated, and she felt the presence of intense energy rock her entire being.

Finally, the voices stopped, as if on cue. Everyone looked at each other, a few laughed out loud, others hugged each other in joy, filled with power.

"Let the circle expand to its original size. Take a deep breath, then let the power fill you and give you joy. When you are ready, let the energy flow back into the earth and ground yourself in the here and now." Hecate said quietly while everyone tried to catch his or her breaths.

Then, all said, "The circle is open but not unbroken. Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again!"

Epona then spoke. "As you know, the May Queen has not found a consort for tonight. For those who wish to participate, there will be a mental challenge. Hecate and I have discussed it earlier, and unlike in previous years, only those who fulfill the challenge will be allowed to be chosen by the May Queen."

Brighid stared at her. Only those who could do the mental challenge? What if the ones who were left were not okay with her? She couldn't chose someone else… him?

Brighid wordlessly, terrified, looked into Hecate's eyes, but the older woman only smiled back at her, nodding to her reassuringly. But somehow, Brighid was not being reassured.

A dozen men lined up, looking at Brighid, some shyly, some boldly, some like she was a prized mare at a county fair. Brighid looked over at the man from across the room. He was talking with Hecate like he knew her, but he definitely was not making a move towards the line.

Brighid didn't want any of the men in line. A sick feeling entered inside of her, and she felt like she wanted to throw up. Gods! Please let there be one I can stand to be with tonight. Why can't it be him?

Brighid was lead by Inanna outside where the challenge would be held. As last year's May Queen, she would be referee so to speak of the games. Brighid closed her eyes tightly, damning Cuchulain for not having been there. He should have been there for her this night… why not? Why the hell not?

But when she opened her eyes, the man was standing with the other men. There were thirteen of them, a good, lucky number in Pagan terms. She blushed when he smiled at her. For the first time, she could get a good look at him, and she felt herself tremble. He was intense, in a very masculine way. She wanted him. Gods she had never wanted a man so much in her life! Even if he didn't pass the competition, she would have to have him sometime soon… that is, of course, if she ever saw him again after tonight.

Something told her that he would be the one tonight, though. She felt it, and she knew it. She knew it like a priestess would know it. The past year had taught her a lot.

The "game" was a little like a multiple choice jeopardy. The questions were about Pagan history, Pagan mythology, and other new age topics. Some of the questions were serious, and yet others bordered on the hilarious. Even Brighid found herself laughing at some of the questions and answers.

Finally, four men were left. Two other than the man would have been satisfactory as lovers for that night, though certainly not anybody that Brighid would have chosen normally. The other Brighid hoped desperately would not be in the final two. The man she wanted seemed to be having as much fun as anyone else, but amazingly, he had not gotten one question wrong yet. He smiled at Brighid, and she felt her face burn. Never had she felt like such a girl! She was a seasoned woman - not a virgin.

Epona then spoke. "Now the rules change a little bit. We ask each of you gentlemen to tell the May Queen what you would like to do for her, how you would serve her."

Brighid could feel her face turn to fire. She looked over at Cuchulain momentarily, and she was surprised to see a frown on his face. There was, however, a measure of relief that he had not gone through the games to become her consort for that night. He tried weakly to smile at Brighid, but his long-distance support gave her little comfort.

The first man came forward and told her that he'd like to tickle her until she screamed then do a naked dance for her. That apparently didn't impress the judges who were looking for a serious pledge, not a goofy one. Thankfully, it was the man Brighid had hoped would not make it.

There were three.

The second said he would give her a full body massage with warmed oil then feed her grapes. Epona didn't look displeased but turned to the next man. With minor variations, his fantasy scenario was a copy of the other man's.

Then, all eyes turned to the man who Brighid wanted. Their eyes met, and Brighid could feel her body warm with his look. "I would treat her as the Goddess incarnate, for tonight she is the Goddess. She is all woman, yet no woman. I would do for her as the God would, but I am not her slave, I am her consort, her lover."

Without hearing anything else around her, Brighid felt her speak. Her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, and her eyes could not tear away from his. "I choose you as my consort tonight."

There was applause, then Brighid realized what she had said. She felt herself being moved towards him, and an otherworldly feeling came over her. She was lost within his eyes, and she knew that something powerful would happen tonight.

Hecate led them to a glade far removed from the festivities. Brighid had come here often to meditate when the weather had been nice, and she was surprised to see candles burning and food and wine waiting for them when they arrived. Last year the weather had been poor, but she did not remember such an elaborate setup for Inanna. Perhaps it was because it was for her that it seemed that way.

Hecate turned to the man, and a smile filled her face. "The God, the May King shall come within you this night. For tonight, you are Him." She touched his forehead, then hugged him before she left them alone.

"You know each other?" Brighid asked after Hecate had left.

The man smiled, sitting down on the blankets as he poured them some wine. "We are old friends, she was one of the first people I met when I got into the community many years ago."

"You've been in the community for awhile? How long? How come I've never met you?" Brighid suddenly remembered her manners. She was a priestess; she shouldn't be asking so many questions.

He smiled, taking her hand in his. An electric charge like lightning shot through her, making her gasp. He noticed it, too, and he put down his wine. "We've met before. Maybe you don't remember."

Brighid tried to make her mouth work. Finally, she managed. "I… I would remember… if I had."

"I was here at this temple last Beltane. I didn't participate in the games, but I couldn't forget you, though. I had hoped that you would be May Queen this year." He was caressing her arm, then bent down to kiss her wrist.

"I'm glad." Brighid then lost all rational thinking as he reached up to kiss her lips.

Slowly, they undressed, and vaguely, she heard the sounds and music of the festivities. The May Pole dance was in full swing. The orange light of the bonfire flickered in the distance, competing with the more than adequate light of the gently dancing flames of the candles. Her own cries mingled with his as they made love, and never before had Brighid felt the power of pleasure and passion as she did that night. She wasn't sure if it was the influence of the Maiden within her or if it was just the man or the power of the moment, but she knew that some magick was being made that night. She was a weaver of it, a co-creator of it, and the man making love to her was a singer of the magick. His scent, his taste, his every sensual move made her rise to meet him again and again willingly, unashamedly, with all of her body and mind. She didn't want the night to end, and when they finally tired and went to sleep, she didn't stir until the quiet of the night and low position of the full moon in the sky told her it was near morning.

Brighid felt herself again, as if the energy of the Maiden had left after its work had been completed. The man sleeping next to her felt no less wonderful, though, and she woke him with a caress and a kiss. "Don't let this be the only night. Gods, I want you!" She whispered as they merged once again.

The next time she awoke, it was full daylight. He was gone. She put on her robes, then walked back to the temple. She was surprised to see that much of the cleanup had already been completed. The May Pole was still up, but it would remain that way until Midsummer when it would be cut down and burned in a bonfire.

She entered the temple, seeing Inanna first, who was sweeping the floors. She smiled at Brighid's satisfied, mystical expression. "Good time last night?"

"You don't know the half of it." Brighid sighed. "What time is it?"

"After ten. Don't worry. Most of the cleaning has been done; don't worry about helping. You had a long night." Hecate appeared behind her, and Brighid turned when she heard her speak. "Come, daughter, we need to talk."

Brighid walked with the older woman into a small office room. "Brighid, the man you saw last night was an old friend of mine, very old."

"Hecate, who was he? I forgot to ask him his name. Where does he live? Will he ever come here again?" Brighid leaned forward, wanting to know everything about this man who had been her lover.

Hecate hesitated. "Brighid, you will never see him again, at least not in that form. He was destined for you last night, but you will only be able to sense him in another form, another place and time."

Brighid suddenly realized what Hecate was talking about. "He isn't human; he is the God." She swallowed, not wanting to believe it, but knowing it to be true.

Hecate smiled. "You are very much a priestess, Brighid. You will live this experience for the rest of your life."

"But I will never see him again." She said, dully.

"Yes you will, Brighid. Whenever you make love to a man, you will feel him. Whenever you smell the body of a man, you will sense him. Never doubt that what happened last night was real; he was as real as you or I."

Brighid felt herself start to cry. "I love him! Gods, I love that man! I would give anything to just to speak to him! Is this love, Hecate? I've never felt this way before."

Hecate hugged Brighid close. "This is love, Brighid. The God is with you."

Weeks passed as Brighid longed for the night of Beltane that would never be again. He had been so obviously human, so real and solid. Why had he come only to go away?

Brighid meditated one night, almost a month after Beltane. The moon had reached near fullness again, and its light came through into her room. She had not been with Cuchulain since before Beltane, and she felt bad that she had not gone to him. He seemed to know she needed her distance, so he didn't press.

Brighid felt a presence behind her, then turned. It was Him. "Why can't you be human?" She asked.

"Brighid, my love, I am always with you, and I will always be with you. You can be with me whenever you wish. But loving me shouldn't mean that you abandon all men and all lovers. I have shown you a doorway into pleasure; only you can open it to see what is on the other side. Go to him tonight, Brighid. Go to Cuchulain. You will find me within him, just as you will find me within every man."

Brighid kissed him, smelling his masculine scent. Then, he was gone. Brighid smiled, wiping away her tears, then got up to find Cuchulain.

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Labyrinth

Diana's Grove is a land full of magick and mystery; this was my first Pagan festival. They called it Pomegranate, and it was Labor Day weekend 2002. I did not really appreciate the place at first, but over the course of three days, I would grow to love this land. As my first experience, I would walk the Labyrinth…

It was cold. No, it was freezing. It might have been in the low sixties, but to the sleeping body, that was much colder than bedrooms were at night. I hadn't brought enough covers, and the air mattress that I had borrowed from my sister had sprung a leak and flattened in the few hours I had been asleep. I huddled miserably under my one fleece blanket within my tent, the ground cold and hard beneath my body. A sharp pain began to radiate from the small of my back. It was still night, though I remembered having had a dream that it was daylight. I didn't know what time it was, but I was certain it was in the middle of the night.

I sat up, unzipped my tent, then slipped on my sandals over my socked feet. My first night camping in 7 years, and I was already regretting having come. Oh, I would change my mind later, but at 3 in the morning with no light, no heat, and no one to talk to, it was pretty miserable.

I exited my tent, feeling the pressure of my bladder. I had wisely camped within a hundred feet of the outhouse, so I didn't have far to go. I grabbed my one flashlight, zipped my tent back up with a sound that seemed particularly loud to me, and crunched my way to the camp's closest outhouse.

Night dew wet my socks as I walked, and I could see the miniature prisms of wetness, shiny with moonlight, forming on every blade of grass. I could hear the dewdrops falling from the canopy of trees over the campsite, sounding like a sporadic, gentle rain. The late summer insects were a constant chorus, and I could smell dampness, chill, and other worldly scents.

A waning crescent moon was rising in the East, and it was the only light for which to see by. My professional judgment mentally placed the time at around 2 or 3 in the morning; since I had left my watch at home, I couldn't check the exact time, but I knew that morning couldn't have been too far away. We had set up camp just as the sun had set below the horizon, and it had been a race to utilize the last bit of sunlight before it was too dark to see. I never had appreciated light until it had been lost, and I had realized that without it, I was effectively blind. Even the bright light of the waning moon wasn't enough for me to see much of my surroundings. It was, however, enough to get to the outhouse without having to turn on my flashlight.

Needless to say, I hadn't had time to explore my surroundings yet. With the exception of five of us women skinny-dipping in the creek just after dark, I hadn't gone much beyond the campsite.

After I came out of the outhouse, I decided to take a little walk down the road. I could still barely see, but tiki torches that the owners of the land had lit earlier on illuminated the rock path well enough to travel it.

I told myself that I'd walk down the road to the last cabin before the old barn. It was about a quarter mile up the road I estimated. The moonlit road was like a silver ribbon, and the mist hung close to the earth. The grass was like the beard of a man.

I kept an eye on the tiki torch closest to camp so I wouldn't get lost, and I carefully made my mini-journey over the coarse rock road towards the Christmas light-lit barn down by the main road.

On my way, however, I saw the entrance to the Labyrinth. I stopped, and it beckoned. The moon lit the mown path and over the wooden archways. I walked closer, and I saw paper messages that had been placed on the left side just below the arch. I couldn't make out the writing, but even had it been light enough to see, the paper had been wilted from weather and time. Vines had covered some of the wood, and like the rest of the Earth, it was damp to the touch.

I debated. I had been told that it took a good 45 minutes to travel the Labyrinth but was well worth it. I checked my flashlight to see if the batteries would hold out, worried if I could see well enough to return to camp if they didn't. I looked back at camp, then at the slowly rising moon, then to the path ahead.

I could still turn back, but I knew that this was something I needed to do.

I started, rounding the first bend and up the outer rim of the labyrinth. I could feel the dew soak into my socks and immediately wished that I had slipped on my tennis shoes instead. Grasshoppers and other insects danced in front of my path, disturbed by the invading flashlight and human feet.

I didn't want to go back.

I got into a hypnotic rhythm, watching my feet before me. It became a meditation, a dream, a spell. I could hear my breath, feel the earth and dew, see the moon, smell the wetness, soil, and grass I stepped upon. I began to chant the Goddess chant…

Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Innana…

Over and over, and I felt the presence of the Lady walk with me, speak to me, love me in spite of me or because of me. The darkness of the past year came to me full-view, and I had to confront it. I cried, feeling the pain again, knowing the cleansing that this weekend would become for me. I stared ahead, following the path, walking, never stopping, continuing on the Path the Goddess had lay out for me.

…We all come from the Goddess
And to Her we will return
Like a drop of rain
Flowing to the ocean…

I whispered the chants out loud but softly. I was the only one who needed to hear them. I was with Her, and I was alone. I was out there on that September night, and I felt like I was the only person alive on Earth. I entered a trance, and I still walked.

Finally, I rounded the last bend and found the center of the Labyrinth - an area without grass that was slightly depressed in the center. Had a bonfire been built there? There was a finality about this place, as if dozens, maybe hundreds, had come here before me to conclude a life-long journey or learn a hard lesson that they had been avoiding.

I stood there for a few minutes, looking up at the sky, the wonderfully clear sky rich with stars, and feeling the world around me. I smelled the chilled night air, thick with wetness and earthy scents, looked towards the barn, then back to camp. The entire world was mine that night, much like those other nights I had experienced a few years ago when I had gone out in the middle of the night to watch the waning crescent moon rise over the horizon. The experience here was, however, infinitely more intense. Here, there really wasn't anyone around. I was totally alone, and those few people who were around were all asleep in their tents.

A slight sweat had begun to form on me, and my entire body tingled from the light exercise and spiritual experience. I then turned back, to travel the Labyrinth back to the beginning.

When I finally returned the camp, the waning crescent moon was quarter-way up in the sky. I was breathing heavy, from walking and the experience. I slipped back into my tent, warmed slightly from the walk. I stared up at the ceiling of my tent in wonder and awe. Yes, I would grow to love this place. I would grow to love it so much that I'd want to go back more than anything. And hopefully, I will…

Still cold but spiritually warm, I went back to sleep. All around me, I could feel the Earth wrap me up in Her arms and comfort me, and I could hear the Her singing to me like a mother to a restless child.

BACK TO THE TOP

A Pagan Myth

Here is how the story goes…

The Goddess was pregnant with Him. It was Midwinter, and She was nearing giving birth. The wind howled, the icy air held no warmth, and yet, in the early hours of morning, the Goddess labored. Birds, nearly frozen from the long, cold night, the longest for the entire year, began to awaken as the sky turned from black, to midnight blue, to cyan, to pale blue. Over the Eastern horizon, the light began to emerge. The Goddess labored on, Her legs spread over the hills, Her vulva open on the Eastern horizon, as birth was imminent.

The first ray of sunlight broke through, shooting onto the hills and trees. A cry of a newborn broke the silence. Birds sang an anthem to the Newborn Sun. The darkness had ended; light had returned once again. As the Goddess took Her baby boy into Her arms, She suckled him, the Milky Way Galaxy spraying across the sky. The baby boy's hair streamed out into the sky, lighting everything in His path. It was dawn.

Weeks passed, and the baby boy grew. As He grew into a toddler, the Goddess grew younger again. She was no longer the Mother but the young Maiden. She called Herself many names, but one of them was Brighid. The Earth was still shrouded in winter, but snowbells and early grasses gave some hint of the spring to come. She showed the baby boy the world, loved Him, and knew that some day soon, They would become lovers as He grew into a man. The warm winds blew occasionally to the Earth, whispering of warmer times to come. Animals came briefly out of hibernation, to see if it was time yet for spring. Winter still ruled.

The Earth awakened as spring came with the Equinox. The days equaled the nights, and the Earth was in balance. Daffodils and tulips grew and bloomed. The baby boy was no longer a baby anymore; He was a young man, a Youth. He was a mighty hunter, though He lacked maturity yet. He was as young as the spring, and just as fresh. The Goddess looked at Him with new eyes, and they became lovers. Their love was new, for They were both still very young at heart. Eggs hatched, young were born, flowers bloomed, and the Earth warmed. Snows melted, and the Lord and Lady were the bringers of spring.

Spring warmed and trees matured. Daffodils finished their blooming and wilted away. Lily of the Valley began to bloom, their sweet scents carried on the warming breeze. There was an electricity in the air, a sensuality, and the Queen of the May and the King of the May were young but now mature. On the night of Beltane, They lay beneath the swaying trees and dancing fairies under a full moon. Here, they joined in the Great and Sacred Marriage. The smells of summer and sex were on the breeze, and the Lord and Lady became as One. Summer was born of Their union, and the insects sang their first mating songs.

Days passed as the nights grew shorter; light was ruler of the world. The Goddess and God were mature adults now, and the God was a Warrior, a man. The Goddess was showing early signs of pregnancy, and She became the Mother. Herbs grew, seeds were beginning to form, and the hot days were long and the warm nights short. On Midsummer, the longest day passed without a thought, but it was a turning point - the God would no longer be young. Herbs were harvested for the first time, and the leaves on the trees were at their maximum growth. The sun was at the highest it would be for the entire year, only to decline thereafter.

Hot days passed, grass dried. Sunflowers bloomed in the August sun. Corn grew and matured, and the Harvest of Lammas was near. The God had grown a long beard, and He was old and worn. He saw His death near in the fields, and His sacrifice was near. He sacrificed first His body to the corn and wheat, and farmers cut Him off at the legs and used His head to make bread. His name was John Barleycorn. The Goddess did not mourn, though, for the God still lived. He had made a sacrifice, but He was not dead. Not yet. People stored the body of the God for the coming season when nothing grew. Because of His willing sacrifice, the Children of the Earth would live through the harsh winter.

The Goddess was large with Child at the second Equinox. Once again, the days equaled the nights, though the world was different from what it had been at the Spring Equinox. Things were not new anymore, and the Goddess and God no longer young. Trees were beginning to turn their leaves, apples were ripening, acorns were falling, and animals were preparing for winter. The end of the season was imminent, and the God was preparing for His death. Once again, He sacrificed His body in the form of fruits. He watched the Earth Children prepare for winter, prepare for scarce times ahead. The Goddess reflected on the past year, of the boy She had nurtured into a man, and knew that His time was near.

On the night of Samhain, the God died and left this world until Midwinter when He would be reborn. Souls of the departed could freely enter and leave the physical world this night, and Pagans lit candles to call their loved ones home. The God left to go to Summerland to become young again, and the Goddess was the Crone as well as the Mother, fat with His child, His essence, and Himself. She mourned His death, but at the same time, She knew that She carried Him within Her as well. Darkness began to rule, and the Earth was cast into winter. Nothing grew, the world turned gray, and the trees shed their last leaves. Herbs dried, and insects ceased their songs. It was Samhain; it was winter.

For the next month and a half, the world existed without the God, but He was only sleeping within His Mother's womb, resting, growing younger for His time again at the coming spring. As Midwinter came around again, the cycle completed, and the time for His rebirth marked the beginning of yet another cycle of the year.

The God was once again.

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My name is Johnathan Herker, Preacher

The hogs snuffled around me, making their pig noises as they rooted in the mud. I was clad in overalls, and thick, rubber boots up to my knee kept the shit and mud off of my dusty but not dirty pants. My hands were weather-worn and old-looking. I felt old, though I guess I wasn't really old. At 45, I felt very old, particular since Gene had died.

She had been dead two years, two years of the 15 I'd been a Preacher. Oh, I was a farmer, too. I kept hogs, cattle, horses, but my real job and life was in the church, at the pulpit, preaching sermons to the neighbors and their kids.

I felt like a hypocrite.

After all, I didn't feel Baptist. Oh, I believed in God and the Bible and all that, but I was not one of those "Hellfire and brimstone" kinds of Preachers, banging my podium like a mad judge. There were Catholics who lived in town, and I got along with them very well. I didn't believe that those who didn't practice the ways of a Baptist were going straight to Hell. Living a good life, being kind to others, and living like a good Christian were the real ways to get to Heaven.

I was an educated man - masters in religious studies. How many Baptist Preacher farmers can claim that?

I looked up, hearing the putter of an engine up the road. It was a long, winding, dirt road well off the main one. Few people came down this way, not unless they were congregation members or folks from town just dropping in on a visit. I wiped the sweat off of my face with a cloth, certain my gray-peppered hair was a mess. I didn't care.

As the car drew closer, I was aware that the person inside of it was a total stranger, and she looked like a city person. Some lost young woman looking for directions?

I walked up to the car, looking into the face of a pretty, black-haired woman with lovely blue eyes. Her skin was like cream and her smile inviting and pure. "Hello, sir. I'm new here. I bought a plot of land a few months ago; it is about 5 miles down the road from you. But I don't know anyone around here. You wouldn't happen to know a few names of people in town who I could contact would you?"

How odd, I thought. Just go into town and ask. Why come down this road to ask me of all people?

I leaned into the car. "Well, there is Todd Bilkens; he is the town Sheriff. There is Andy Markus; he is good for working on cars. There really isn't much you can do to keep from looking new around here. It is small-town, and you'll stick out."

"Oh, I know I will. I just want to get to know some names and people around here so I can make faster friends. A girl can't be too isolated in 1957."

I smiled. "I guess not. How did you come about that land?"

"My parents died a year ago, both within months of each other; they were my only living relatives, at least the ones who live close. They left me quite a bit of money, and it was enough to quit work, buy some land, and enjoy the life of the country. I love the country, and I decided it was time to fulfill my dream of living in it."

She certainly was charming. I guessed her to be in her early twenties, though she had an ageless quality about her that was both wise and naïve. "I'm sorry about your parents." I said.

She looked sad for a moment. "I really loved them. It has been hard."

"Well, you'll find family here. Hey, since you are new to town, I am the Pastor of Edwardstown Baptist Church in the main part of town. You can hardly miss it. Not as flashy as the Catholic Church, but it is large enough to fit the whole town. I'm going to be doing a sermon on Sunday morning, and it would be a good way to meet people. I could introduce you to some of the ladies."

The young woman frowned slightly, fiddling with a piece of jewelry at her throat that she discretely stuffed below her collar. The glimpse I got of it was a small star. "I would love to go." She smiled, but it never really reached her eyes.

I smiled at her. God sure had a way of gracing the world with beauty. "Good, I hope to see you then."

"Yes, it will be. What is your name?" She asked, holding out her hand.

"My name is Johnathan Herker, Preacher. And yours?"

"Mia Waterdove."

"Waterdove - that is an unusual name."

She grinned, putting the car into reverse. "Well, I'm just an unusual girl."

I fidgeted nervously that Sunday. I don't know why. I had done this hundreds of times, but I watched as folks filtered in, dressed in their hats, dresses, and suits. I talked with some old friends, getting caught up with town gossip I wasn't always privileged to during the week. Things got lonely living in a house by myself with only animals for comfort and contact. Holly Jones showed off her new baby boy Davie who was to be baptized that morning. I held him in my arms, wondering what it would have been like to have been a father. Gene never had been able to have children. She had died at 40 - cervical cancer.

I held the delicate child in my arms, his red face holding no expression but deep sleep. I felt eyes on me and looked up in time to see Mia looking at me.

She wore a red dress which made her pale skin glow. She was appropriately dressed enough for a city church, but the loud color made others turn around to her and stare. I felt sorry for her; not blending in and making yourself stand out would be a sure-fire way of isolated yourself in this town. I still smiled at her, motioning her over. No way would I make her feel unwelcome.

"Mrs. Jones, this is Mia Waterdove. She is new to town and just bought some land about 5 miles down the road from me. Mia, this is Holly Jones, and this," I held up the baby, letting her see the child, "Is Davie. His baptismal is this morning."

"He's beautiful, Holly. You should be proud."

Holly smiled politely. "Have you no children?"

Mia laughed, a little loudly. "Oh, no. I'm not even married yet. My parents left me some money when they died, so I bought some land."

Mia looked to Holly and myself. "Can I hold him?"

I looked over at Holly who nodded. I handed the child to Mia, whose eyes glowed like gems when the child took one of her manicured fingers in a tiny little fist. "He is precious. May you be blessed with many more like him."

Holly smiled warmly. "Come sit by me, dear. I can introduce you to more people after church."

I smiled, glad that Mia had found a new friend. I said hello to a few more people, then made my way to the front of the church.

I looked out at the congregation, and from the flock of dull birds, Mia shone like a bright bird of paradise. She smiled at me, and I couldn't help but feel the connection beginning to form between us.

Mia was an unusual woman. She went into town often, often at least once a day, or so I was told through the town gossip. She bought groceries and herb plants, but that was the last time I saw her in church. The last in particular made tongues wag; the whole town, Catholic and Bapist alike, was a God-fearing lot, and anyone who didn't go to church was automatically labeled as someone not to be trusted.

She did, however, come to my home fairly often, though she seldom said much to me when we would happen to run into each other in town. I would see her car come down the road, often while I was tending to the cattle, hogs, or the horses, and she would help brush down the geldings. She usually chatted and made small talk, but I got the feeling that she was interested in more than just idle chit-chat. This was an intelligent woman.

One day, she came inside the house with me, and I went to get some bagels and coffee for us to snack on as we talked in the living room. When I came back to the living room, I found that she had wandered into my library.

"Mr. Herker, you have a lot of books on many different topics. You are really well-read." She was looking at my bookshelf one day as I handed her the coffee mug.

"I enjoy education. Does is surprise you that I have a master's degree in religious studies?"

Her eyes lit up. "No, but I admit that it is a little unusual to have a small town preacher with that much education."

I nodded, smiling. "It is, but I do what I do because I love it. I wouldn't have any other life."

"I can understand that. I love being this close to nature all the time. I can't imagine how I ever made it that many years as a city girl. I took some comparative religions classes when I was in college getting my bachelors in biology."

"Biology? Is that why you purchase all of those herbs?"

Mia smiled mysteriously. "Partly, and partly because I love plants. Someday you'll have to visit my place. It is starting to shape up. Still needs a lot of work."

"Well, you've been a help around here with my chores; maybe I could come by and help you out some day." We walked into the living room, sitting on chairs across from each other.

"That would be very sweet of you. Mr. Herker -"

"Please, call my Johnathan, Mia. No need for formalities."

She laughed. "Just being respectful." She then grew serious. "Do you think I'm odd?"

I looked at her, her sky-blue eyes wanting an honest answer. "I think you are quite different from most of the people around her, but that does not make you odd. Why don't you go to church?"

She grinned, tossing her hair. "Are you going to give me a sermon?"

"I'm not like other Preachers, Mia. A person's choice in religion is his own business. But, if you want my honest opinion, it does make you stand out more. Most of the people around here don't like those who skip out on church. They are God-fearing people. Go to church - if nothing else, it is social interaction."

Mia frowned. "I suppose you are right. How religious is 'God-fearing' here?"

I gave her a curious look, noticing her catlike grace and beauty. In all the weeks she had been coming to see me, I had tried not to notice her like a man would. She was young enough to be my daughter. But something in the way she crossed her legs in her jeans, flipped her hair, slightly parted her lips - I was embarrassed when I felt an erection coming on.

I sat up slightly, placing my plate on my lap. Thank God she hadn't noticed my deliberate motion. "Most folks who don't go to church eventually end up getting driven out. I'm not saying it is right - it is just how things are done around here."

"Anyone every get killed?" Her voice held the barest hint of fear.

I looked at her with sympathy, trying to sooth her. "Mia, no one would do such a thing here. I wouldn't allow it even if that would be a possibility. There is nothing but good people here; I promise."

Mia visibly relaxed. "Johnathan, can you keep a secret?"

"You have my word. I swear by God." I meant it.

"Johnathan, I don't go to church because I don't believe in your God. I want you to accept me as I am. I really like you as a friend. Would you reject me for that?"

I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath, but I let it out in one small explosion. "But why?"

"It is just the way I am. Will you accept me?" She looked terrified, terrified of rejection and loss. Hadn't she lost enough already? Parents? Friends?

"Mia, I will accept you. You have my word. We are friends." I held out my hand, feeling her warm hand in mind. I felt myself stir again, but immediately purged the thought from it. Such un-Godly thoughts.

The first time I went to Mia's place, I knew that she was not a Christian. She wasn't even an atheist. Statues of Venus and other pagan goddesses decorated the house, and other mysterious objects seemed to be strategically placed. I prayed that none of the other townspeople ever set foot in this house. I knew better; this was not a house of Satan but just of another religion. Others wouldn't be so open-minded.

"I believe in the Goddess. Does that shock you?"

I looked at the statue of a naked woman, her face without substance and form. The ten commandments came back to haunt me, and I wondered for a brief moment if she was putting a spell on me to accept such heathen, pagan ways so casually.

"No, Mia. It is all right. I'm just not used to this. I've never met someone like you." I tried to choke back the lump of fear.

"I can tell you are uncomfortable, though." She came to look into my eyes. I tried to conceal my terror.

She looked down. "I'm sorry. If you want to go, you can go."

I was torn. "No, I'm not going to go. Mia, don't let anyone besides me ever know about all of this. Promise?" I was serious, deadly serious. I had no idea how deeply non-Christian she was. She would be shunned, ostracized. And although I didn't know for sure, she would probably be subjected to much worse.

"I promise. Thank you, Johnathan."

We stared at each other for a few moments. My erection came back, and I had no way to hide behind a plate now. She took my hand in hers, in understanding. She made no move that was overtly sexual, but her friendly, tender touch inflamed me even more. I squeezed her hand slightly, totally unable to hold back my weak expression when she looked up into my eyes.

"I won't make you do anything against your religion, Johnathan. If you think this is something you will regret, don't do it."

I pulled her towards me, and for the next day, we made love again, again, and again…

I was no longer a Baptist. I could hardly call myself a Preacher now. On Sundays I preached about obedience to God, about abiding by the ten commandments. That evening sometimes, I would be in bed with Mia, doing things with her that I had never done with my wife. Positions. Holes entered that I never knew could be such centers of pleasure. Never had I enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh so much. Nor the pleasures of the heart. For Mia was a woman with so many facets - brilliant woman, luscious lover, beautiful spirit. I could talk to her, do things with her that I could never do with anyone else. The sex was the least of it, but I enjoyed it. I would have given up my life as a Preacher for her. I was in love.

But paradise seldom lasts forever. I could have gone on forever being her lover, going to her house at night to wake up to her the next day.

Somehow, information leaked. I do not know how, but when I was in town one afternoon, getting some tools, a young man came up to me. His name was Ray Brader; he was one of those Baptists that gave other Baptists a bad name. He hadn't been in town long, maybe a year or so, but he had never liked my style of sermon, nor me as a person.

He came up to me in the store then said threateningly under his breath, "I know what you do at night, Preacher Herker. You are fucking that witch woman. Better watch out, or I'll tell the whole town. Keep fucking her and that God-fearing dick of yours will fall off."

I stared at him, trying to hide my shock. "You have a filthy mouth. I can't believe you call yourself a Christian. God never meant for such foul language to be spoken in this world."

He laughed, more of a cackle. "Only when we are discussing fornication with a Satanic witch. Let's make a deal; you let us have some fun with her, and we'll forget you and her are fucking." He winked at me.

How in the Hell had he found out? Mia's place was isolated. No one came down to her place.

"You leave that young woman alone. She hasn't done anything to you." I hissed, barely holding back my fear and rage.

"Well, accidents can happen. Children can die unexpectedly. What would everyone think when they find out that Mia's a witch just as several kids end up missing?"

Pure evil. I hated him. God damn him!

"You wouldn't dare! What in the Hell do you want?" I was terrified now, and I couldn't hide it. "You'll spread rumors just to harm this girl? You are a monster!"

"Better to be a monster than a soulless heathen, or a man who is screwing it. I want your church, Herker. You are a hypocrite and a heretic. You say one thing and do another. You are a disgrace to this town. Resign your post as Preacher, and I'll stay quiet."

I almost breathed a sigh of relief. "Is that it?"

He grinned. "No, not really. But that is part of it. A few friends of mine and I want a go at her. If you let us do it, we won't tell a soul. Your reputation will be clean and free."

"I would rather have everyone in town hate me!"

He laughed. "I'll give you some time, Herker. Make up your mind, but don't wait too long. You can't keep her safe forever."

I ran back to my car, driving down the road a bit before I got out to throw up. I threw up until there was nothing left to throw up. I wanted to die. I had to warn Mia.

When I told Mia, she burst into tears. "I have to leave. Tonight. How did they find out?"

"I don't know, Love. I wish I knew, but I don't know if he means what he says he's going to do. I don't care about being a Preacher; I only care for your safety."

Suddenly, her face lit up. "It is his word against yours, you know."

I held her close. "It doesn't matter. All there would need to be is one rumor. I'd have to leave, too. I guess it is time for me anyway. There are just too many memories here."

"I'm sorry about Gene, Johnathan." She said, kissing my forehead.

Ray Brader had pictures. Graphic pictures. He had been too close. There was no way to dispute or refute them. The man was beyond evil.

"Herker, here is the deal. You let us do your little Mia, and we won't have to kill a child."

"Kill a - are you out of your Godforsaken mind, Ray?!" I spat. "What child? What in the Hell are you planning? Would you honestly destroy an innocent life for this?"

"We have the Jones' baby. With any luck for Mia, he won't be noticed as missing for a few more hours. If you don't let us have her, the baby dies. And Mia will be blamed for it, and all of these pictures will be posted all over town for people to see." His smile was sharklike.

I gaped, sweat pouring down my scalp. "Let me talk to Mia. Please." The words stuck in my dry throat.

"I'll give you one hour."

I could only hold Mia while she cried. "A baby! How can he call himself a Christian? No good Christian would do such a thing! My, Goddess, Johnathan!"

"Mia, we can leave tonight."

She pushed me away, suddenly, violently. "NO! I don't know if they'd kill a baby. But what if they did? What if we left and they killed that little boy? I don't care if they blame me for it, but I don't want a child to die. Johnathan, take me to them. If it is me they want, then they can have me. The Goddess will protect me. Just get those pictures back. I can leave then. No one will get hurt." Her voice became duller and more forlorn as she spoke. Her last sentence was a resigned whisper.

"Mia…?"

"Take me to them. It will be okay." She kissed me. I didn't know it would be the last time.

At the edge of the forest, there were five men. Five. I could feel Mia's terror. Another man held a tiny little boy, sleeping peacefully as if nothing were going on. Mia went towards them, and Ray gave me the pictures in exchange.

"I give you my word the baby will not be harmed." He then said to the sixth man. "Take the baby back home. Hopefully, there'll still be some left when you get back."

The scene I was subjected to was forever burned into my brain. I wanted to not watch, but they took turns making me watch. Mia was beaten, raped, beaten again, they sodomized her, beat her again. Her body was bloody, torn, and she was crying. I wanted to claw my eyes out. My God, what had I done?

When they began to choke her, I could do nothing. I was paralyzed. I saw her life ebb out of her. She died.

The pictures were never shown. They burned them. They dumped her body in the river. The baby was never harmed, thank God. Nothing was ever revealed or spoken of. I resigned at the church, giving the excuse of lack of time.

Before they could enter her house, I took the naked Goddess figure and put it in my pocket. Maybe I should become a witch, leave town, go to the big city. But I knew that the religion had been hers and would never be mine. Not only that, but I was losing hope and touch with life. Inside, I was a dying man. I was worse than evil. Ray had been evil and had been filled with hate. I had been filled with love, and I had destroyed it.

Mia's land was sold off, and Mia was assumed to have moved away without notice. She simply had disappeared.

I could never forgive myself. Every day I hated myself. I had let them rape her and kill her. I had a small picture of her, a picture of just her face, and she was wearing a black shirt. I could see her pentacle peeking out from the collar. I placed the picture next to the Goddess figure. I cried at my wooden desk, looking at the picture, and I knew that I had betrayed her. Mia, oh God, Mia…

There was a gun in my desk. I took it out, my eyes blurred with tears. It was loaded. I shot myself in the head with it, my world fading to darkness.

I was between worlds. It wasn't Heaven that I was traveling to; that I knew. I could feel a sense of weightlessness as I traveled into a paradise more beautiful than any Heaven ever described. Could it be the Summerland that Mia had told me she believed in? Would she be there?

Upon arriving at a land covered with greenery, flowers, and trees, I saw her. She was in a long, red dress, and she held her arms out to me. She was standing next to a slightly older woman with curly red hair. It is my Gene. She was there, too.

Mia came to me with Gene smiling next to her, and tears were streaming down my face. "I forgive you, Johnathan. Welcome home."

I wrote this story shortly after experiencing a past life regression. Whether or not you believe in past lives, the experience has nevertheless changed me. This story is probably not how it exactly happened; I get the distinct impression that Johnathan was not quite as forgivable and nice as I paint him to be here. I believe he was a lot more responsible for what occurred than is in this version of the story. I also had a lot of empty blocks of information to fill in, so I did take some artistic liberties. Whether any of these people are real or were ever real, I don't know for sure. I'm not even sure about last names even. I can't even be certain that Mia and Johnathan ever had any kind of relationship - for all I know, his sexual experiences with Mia might have only been his imaginings.

As a witch myself, it was hard to feel myself doing things I wouldn't normally do. The past life regression was more like a really bad dream; in the scene where Johnathan is forced to watch Mia get raped and murdered, I think the real barrier to his doing nothing was more of his own making than actual ropes or hands to hold him down. He could have done something. He obviously felt remorse or he wouldn't have committed suicide.

I learned many things from this past life regression. I learned that the persecution of witches did not end with the burning times but was more than likely something that went on well into this century. Mia's murder might not have ever been reported. If she didn't have any living family, she very well might have just "disappeared."

I also learned a very different lesson - that in the past, I was a religious leader. This is the second past life regression where I played that role. If I had been in past lives, I may very well be again in this one. I also learned that sometimes we do things that we have no control over, or in this case, have no real way of rectifying the situation since it had been another time, another personality, and a whole different set of ethical codes. I also learned about human forgiveness and the willingness of many of us to forgive even those who have hurt us the most.

BACK TO THE TOP

Jade

The dark-haired woman looked around her, eyes shifting back and forth as people walked by. Her topaz-blue eyes were sharp, ever-discerning, not missing any details. She heard the laugh of a woman at the other end of the bar, the sneeze of the bartender, even the brave, lucky fly that had somehow made it into the cozy bar and had miraculously managed, given the subzero temperatures outside, to survive and thrive. She could smell the light, floral perfume of one of the waitresses up on the second floor, and she could see the pulse and breath of everyone in the room.

Jade pushed away the drink set down in front of her. Its smell disgusted her, like the smell of vomit or feces. Human food. Mortal food. Blood was the candy, the food, the life. She could drink of it, love it, wallow in it, orgasm off of it.

Five hundred years, and she still was a slave to it. Blood. She was a vampire, or at least that was the most accurate term for her. She didn't eat human food but rather lived off of blood, and preferably, human blood. She could go out in sunlight - that part of the myths was not true, but like many of her kind, as she grew older, she spent less and less time out in daytime. Night was so much more comfortable. You could hide in it. Hide what you were. Artificial lights, candle lights, none of them showed the inhuman transparency like daylight. During the day, she truly looked like a monster - almost see-through, her body a network of veins, rivers of blood, and total lack of heat. Body heat.

Jade locked her eyes on a man at the end of the bar. She smiled at him, inviting him with her eyes. He looked delicious. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, exposing her sensory organs to the air. She throbbed from ecstasy. Oh, yes, he'd be very delicious. Yet, she also felt another need. Five hundred years had not destroyed her sex drive. Human need or not, she still felt it. Over five centuries, Jade had had sex with literally tens of thousands of men. Often, she had fed from them, but not all of them.

The man came towards her, smiling as he came, entranced by her beauty and unwavering gaze. He had a languid expression on his face, almost as if he were drunk. His eyes held no hint of awareness of what was going on. This one had needed very little convincing and almost no Glamour, but given her centuries of practice in the art of seduction, she hardly needed supernatural help these days.

He came towards her, leaning in close while she took a bite. Maybe later… then she could fully enjoy him. The sweet fluid slid down her throat, and she felt he tingling throughout her body, the orgasmic ecstasy that came with the feed. Now, just a taste…

"Jade!"

Jade started as if from a drunken stupor. She shook her head, retracted her fangs back to normal eye-teeth length, and pushed the man away. He looked confused and disoriented, but obeyed her stern look to go away.

"Erin, do you have to disturb me during dinner?" She snapped at the young woman who casually sat down beside her.

Erin grinned, not the least bit put-off by the seething vampire. Erin combed back her curly, reddish-gold hair with her hand, taking a sip of what appeared to be cherry coke before setting it down on the table. "Ever think he might be Pagan?" She asked, nodding towards the young man.

Jade glanced over at the young man, who was now leaning against the wall about ten feet away, talking to someone as if nothing had ever happened. Jade paused, thinking. She had not probed the man's thoughts very thoroughly. "No, he's not. I saw the cross. And even if he hadn't been wearing that Christian jewelry, I'd know. Why, do you know him?" She turned back to the red head.

Erin shrugged, "Well, I've seen him around the community. I think he's interested." Erin said, preying on Jade's weak side.

Jade stood up straight, her eyes sparking with irritation. "I have fed off Pagans, you know."

Erin grinned again, winking. "Yeah, but even you admit - you always let them know exactly what is going on before you do. That is your one weakness. Still can't give it up, even after five hundred years."

Jade glared at Erin who raised an eyebrow. "Now, how in the hell did you find me here? There are thousands of bars in this town, and you happen to show up at the one I am feeding in." Jade changed the subject.

Erin put her hand over Jade's, not shocked by the ice-cold feeling of her bloodless flesh. "I felt you. It isn't hard. Had you not been in such a stupor, you would have felt me." Erin's playful smile irked Jade, though there was a serious note to what she said. Yes, Jade should have felt her, but stupor or not.

Jade laughed suddenly, trying to diffuse the swirling tension. "You know, I have all of these amazing powers brought on my inhuman condition, and I get thwarted by hedge magick."

Suddenly, both became serious. "You know as well as I do it wasn't 'hedge magick' that led me to you. But the bond isn't as strong as it used to be you know."

Jade nodded. "I know."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Jade didn't want to talk about it - the rift that had been forming between them. It yawned like a chasm, threatening to consume their friendship, their love for each other.

Jade cleared her throat, unnecessary but needed to change the tone of the conversation. Neither liked where it was going. Or how much truth was there. "What does bring you here, Erin? I do need to feed, so unless you have something vitally important to tell me…"

Erin set down her drink, remembering. "Oh, yeah. As you know, next Saturday is Yule. A bunch of us are having a small get-together - gift exchange, food, ritual - and I was going to invite you to go along."

Jade stared at her, mouth slightly agape. "You can't be serious. Do any of them know I'm a vampire?"

Erin shook her head, then tilted her head slightly, thinking - one of her quirks. "Well, one of your former lovers does, but he's been very quiet about it. He said he wouldn't mind being your… how did he put it? Your 'cakes and ale.'"

Jade sighed. "Let me guess… James, right?"

"You're good, considering you've slept with half of the community. It is actually at his house. His and his wife's house I should say."

Jade scowled. "Erin, I haven't taken part in mortal religious affairs in over five hundred years. I'm not about to start now."

Erin stared into Jade's eyes for a moment. Erin knew a bit about Jade's past. Aside from the many stories Jade had told Erin about her long years as a vampire, she knew that Jade had been a witch in the middle fifteen hundreds in France. She knew that Jade had barely escaped being hanged. And she knew that Jade had lost loved ones to the witch hunts. Being turned into a vampire had changed her, turned her away from the Goddess, and although Jade had never killed a Pagan or had even fed from a Pagan who was unwilling, Jade still kept religion at arm's length.

"Jade, I know you were Pagan. You still are. No one I know would think of you as a monster. We are all children of the Goddess." Erin said quietly, seeing the anger swirl and expand in Jade's face.

Jade stood up, sparks of fire dancing off of her aura. "Erin, you have no idea what I lost back then. I can't go back to religion. I have seen too much. There is no Goddess. No Goddess would support an abomination to the natural world such as myself. Nor would your friends, in spite of how James feels. I am a monster. You and your kind are food to me, don't you understand? James lusts after what I can give him, but I am still no more than a beast - a creature without a soul. Humans are supposed to die and be reborn. I live forever. I'll never die."

They stared at each other, the rift yawning. Finally, Erin cleared her throat. "Are you done yet?"

Jade grabbed Erin's hand roughly, though careful not to damage the bones which a vampire could very easily crush. "Feel me. I'm as cold as the wind outside. I'm not human, so don't think of me that way. I see through your bluff. I see your fear. You know damned well I could crush your heart with a thought."

Erin yanked away her hand from Jade's grasp angrily. "I'm NOT afraid of you, Jade. Monsters don't distinguish between one or another person. They only destroy without conscience. Were you a monster, Jade, you'd have destroyed me long ago, and yet you have saved my life. I know bringing up Paganism is a rough subject for you, but I would like you to be there. We are friends; we have shared more things together in ten years than most people share in a mortal lifetime." Erin looked away, furious.

Jade sighed, looking at the angry young woman. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you. I'll go to your party. But I'm not going to take part in the ritual. I'm going to be there simply for your sake and your sake alone."

"And no one else's?" Erin bravely asked with a small smile, peering at Jade from the corner of her eye.

"Okay, and a chance to be with James. But that's it." Jade relented.

Erin grinned so widely that Jade scowled. "Okay, here is the address." Erin handed Jade a piece of paper. "Bring a dish - preferably without blood - and dress up if you'd like. Everyone is going to start getting there around 4. Is that too early for you?"

"I'd prefer to get there after dark. I look very inhuman in the daylight." Jade said, feeling beaten. In truth, she loved Erin as much as anyone could love another person. Erin was a sister that Jade could barely remember from her mortal youth. Sometimes, Jade felt that Erin really was her long-dead sister, reincarnated in another body and in another time and place. But more than that, they had a bond, forged years ago by blood. In truth, they were blood sisters.

"Happy hunting, Jade." Erin said, kissing Jade quickly on the cheek before the vampire could object or pull away.

Jade sat glumly for a few minutes. How had she been talked into going to a Pagan ritual? She had not been to one since her mortal days. She knew how they were constructed and knew just how wildly different they were from the old Pagan rituals, but there still was an element of continuity and sameness. These modern Pagans were still Pagans, just, well, more modern. They lacked the fear. They could go out in public without fear of being stoned to death, or burned to death, or hanged, or imprisoned.

Jade still lived in a secretive world of sorts - her vampiric existence would never be understood by the world at large - but in a very odd sort of way, to her way of thinking at least, the one thing that nearly destroyed her five hundred years ago was little more than an eclectic interest that would incite curiosity more often than hostility in this day and age. Jade wondered humorously if the same would be the case five hundred years from now, and being a vampire would be nothing more than a cool oddity. Perhaps something else about her personality or being would be taboo then, maybe her dark hair, or her blue eyes.

Jade stood up from her chair, looking at the man across the bar. He no longer was so appealing now, now that she knew he was interested in Paganism. She actually felt shame for having violated him, though his jovial smile certainly held no hint of any violation at all.

Jade walked out the front of the bar into the freezing night. To blend in, she huddled in her coat, though she certainly didn't feel cold. Blood sent throughout her body kept body parts from freezing and even warmed her skin to almost a human body temperature. She even looked human, her cheeks flushed with surface blood.

Jade saw the Santa at a nearby street corner, ringing a bell, belting his "Merry Christmas" to passersby. Jade growled inwardly, sifting through her coat pockets. Yes, in five hundred years she had also accumulated and stored massive amounts of wealthy. Little did Erin know, but as soon as Jade decided to move from this place and identity and onto another one, several hundred thousand dollars would be transferred to an account in Erin's name. Jade had never taken such an interest in a mortal before, but the two women in a sense owed each other something.

Although Erin would always argue that she owed Jade her life and much more, Jade inwardly knew that in many ways, Erin had saved her far more in a much deeper way. Jade could never concretely define how, but she, up until Erin, had never taken much interest in mortal affairs or the welfare of mortals. Now, she did. So she donated to charities, perhaps out of some perverse guilt, perhaps because Erin showed her a goodness within her that Jade had forgotten was even there.

Jade took out a hundred dollar bill and folded it up into a thin twist. Snow blew into her face, landing on her eyelashes and cheeks. The flakes didn't melt. The street corner Santa nodded to her saying, "Merry Christmas" as Jade pushed the hundred into the coin slot of the red salvation army can. Jade looked at him, trying to mesmerize him. Hunger seized her suddenly and hotly, and she pulled him towards her. She sank her teeth into the flesh of his neck, tasting cinnamon, cigars, cookies, and a bit of brandy. She only took a small amount, but it satisfied her. She pulled away, letting the man forget what had happened. By the time she took her second step away, the street corner Santa was ringing his bell as if nothing had happened.

Jade wandered the streets for much of the night, stopping the occasional man or woman for a quick drink. By the time she got back to her car, she had had her fill of blood and was ready to go home.

Jade arrived home about two hours before dawn. She turned down her bed - no, vampires did not sleep in coffins, at least she didn't - and took off her clothes. She lay down, thinking about where her life had gone and turned over the past decade. Giving to street corner Santas. Hell, she had even donated money to the humane society. What was Erin doing to her? What was she doing to herself?

Ever since Jade had been very young, her mother and the rest of her coven had warned her against ever telling anyone about the fact that she was a witch. Or that she knew others who were witches. They kept all of their books under heavy floorboards, and most of their tools were common things that all women had in their homes. The time period Jade and her family lived in was a superstitious and highly paranoid time when women and men alike could be convicted and hanged for witchcraft by even the smallest accusation. Jade and her coven lived their lives in fear. This was the world of sixteenth century France.

But Jade had not been her real name. It had been Gabrielle -- Gabrielle Delvaux. Jade had been her craft name, the name she had taken upon her full initiation as a witch at puberty when she had bled for the first time. Jade was the name of a green stone found in the far east, and Jade wore a piece of the beautiful, rare rock around her neck at all times. It ensured longevity, prosperity, and immortality.

Jade had been eighteen years old and had just achieved full Priestess status. Her mother had been so proud of her. It had been an unseasonably warm Imbolc night, the night of the maiden Bride. It was a night of initiations and coming of age ceremonies. Jade's little sister Marie had bled for the first time that winter and was being initiated as a full-grown woman.

The women of the coven - a family of thirteen old women, mothers, maidens, girls, children, and babies - had stood in a circle in their white winter robes. A full moon had hung overhead, lighting the faces of Jade and her sister. Vivienne, the coven's High Priestess and oldest member, had stood before the two young women, asking for the protection of the Old Ones. Jade had felt the blessing of the Goddess. First, Marie was given her coming of age ceremony where she was given her new name - Cedar. Cedars were strong, everlasting, and enduring much like Marie was. Cedar had never looked so grown up or beautiful.

Jade then was given the task of any newly initiated Priestess. In her coven, this involved spending three nights in the woods alone, fasting and communing with nature. Her coven mates left, leaving her alone in the cast circle. For three days, she was of the land and within the land. She sought the Goddess and found Her. She spoke to the Goddess, asking Her what it was she was supposed to do in her short lifetime.

The message she had received had been very cryptic. "You will live a long life and touch many, but you will turn away from Me. You will have many, many experiences, but you will be childless. You will encounter the same woman many times, and you will be her protector. She will be your one and only true love. You will be alone, but you will be powerful. You will be more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

Jade reflected often on the Goddess's prediction. In every way, it made sense looking back now. Then, it had only brought her foreboding and fear. Alone?

No one knew who had given their names to the authorities, but on the third night of Jade's three-day period of being alone, Jade's mother, her sister, and the others were taken to a prison. Jade came home to the empty cottages, but she felt the fear, the alarm, and she heard her mother's voice in her head, warning her to stay away, to leave. She felt the pain her coven was put through - rape, torture, and other violations. Jade had to save them, had to find them and set them free.

Cedar had been the first to be hanged as a witch; it was done the following morning at dawn. Jade had no time to save her. Then their mother was hanged. Other witches had followed, meeting graphically horrible ends, some of them from their coven, some not. Jade had witnessed the whole thing, and she had nightmares for centuries afterwards. She had nearly been caught, for she was a wanted woman, but she had escaped back into the woods, taking some of the books, tools, and jewelry of her coven with her. For three years, she lived in the woods, living off of the land, living in terror of being caught.

Jade never let go of the Mother Goddess, even if it had seemed that She had deserted her and her family. In Jade's twenty-first year, she had decided to quit running. She wanted revenge on those who had killed her family. She was a witch, but that did not mean she had to keep running and hiding like a trapped animal. It did mean, however, that she could get back her life if she so willed it and make the men pay who had taken her life and loved ones away from her.

She first joined a whorehouse, wanting to make some money to work her plan. Her eventual goal was to get into high society as nobility, but that would take some time and patience. It would also take witchcraft and feminine wiles. Going into the whorehouse as an inexperienced virgin, she came out a savvy woman, able to seduce whomever she wanted. After having earned and/or stole much of her needed money, she left the whorehouse at 24 and opened up a bar, taking on a different identity and appearance. There, she got a nobleman drunk one night, seduced him, and convinced him he had to marry her. She had her in.

All of this time, she had practiced her religion in secret. But nobility had a much closer eye on its people than commoners did. She put her tools and books away deep into the woods and even wore a cross. She was the appearance of a rich, Christian noblewoman.

But unknown to Jade, there was someone who had been watching her this entire time. She had been following Jade from her early days as a witch in her family's coven to her ascent into French society. This someone had been a vampire and had wanted Jade like she had never wanted a mortal. She also knew of and sympathized with Jade's situation, and she knew that by turning Jade into a vampire, Jade could fully and completely enact her revenge on her family's killers.

Jade had been fighting bitterly with her new husband. Her husband had been tricked, fooled into marrying a commoner. Jade wished there was a way she could placate him, but even letting him have his way with her only cooled his ire for a day or so. After a particularly rough encounter that had left both of them gasping and sweating with post-coital heat, Jade had left the room, running almost right into the tall, blonde woman.

Sara had been her name - a British woman a full head taller than Jade's five feet and five inches. Jade looked up into the clear, blue eyes - eyes that were the same icy shade as her own. Jade mumbled an apology, but the woman didn't move.

Jade stared up at her, curiously.

"Jade, I know who you are." Sara whispered.

Jade's eyes widened, fear suffocating her. No! She couldn't know! She opened her mouth as if to ask, "How do you know my name, and how do you know that I'm a witch?" but nothing came out. She simply backed away, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, Jade. I will not betray your secret to anyone. I am here to help you. The men who murdered your family - I can tell you their names and positions and where they are. I can also give you a gift that will allow you to more fully enact your revenge."

Jade stared up at the woman, her breathing still hard. "You have my attention, then. I want them dead - all of them. I have done binding spells on them to bring me closer to this point. I want to find peace, and I can only do that with their deaths."

Sara smiled, and Jade had to blink. Were those fangs? "Come here closer to me, and I will give you my gift. Come…"

Sara had picked Jade up off of the ground, something that made Jade's eyes widen in alarm and shock. Sara was a tall woman, but she was slight of built and certainly no stronger than Jade. Yet Sara had picked her up like a feather.

Jade felt the first painful pricks into her neck, and she stifled her scream as a powerful sense of pleasure suffused her entire body. Jade almost groaned in pleasure as she felt Sara slide her lips over her neck. Jade wanted to make love to Sara's flesh, taste it, love it like she had never wanted to love a woman.

When it had been all over, Jade had felt powerful, rich, and invincible. The world's colors had sharpened, and she could hear things across the King's palace. Everything from sound to movement to perfectly still images was in sharp focus. "What are you?" She asked, looking at Sara in wonder.

Sara and Jade sat down in the hall, sunlight casting shadows through the stained windows. "You are what I am, Jade. Some might call us vampires, but we are gods, Jade. You and I have powers that mortals will never have, and we will never die. We will live forever. You have become the Goddess. You are above the Goddess."

Jade had stood up, looking into the eyes of the smiling, blonde woman. Jade had never heard such blasphemous speech before, but she knew deep down that it was the truth. She listened for a moment, listening for the hum, listening for the connection. There was nothing there. She had been cut off from nature, from the Goddess. She was outside of nature, a thing that was beyond nature. And she would never die. She looked toward the bedroom she had left. She was truly her own woman now. No one could dictate what she did, or where she went. Or what religion she practiced.

She stared at Sara for a moment, feeling the connection to the Goddess severed, completely gone. She had no religion to practice. The one thing that had been holding her to life and hope had been destroyed at her becoming a vampire. Jade would mourn later, but now, she had work to do.

Jade's husband was her first kill. She and Sara shared his blood, licking it off of his corpse in a fit of orgasmic ecstasy. Jade had never killed anyone before, but her new nature thrived off of it. Killing her husband had been so easy, so delightfully simple and right. And she had enjoyed consuming his blood.

Sara looked up from the kill, her mouth smeared with blood. She smiled at Jade, eyes completely inhuman and filled with blood lust.

"Now, get your revenge, Jade. The names are written on this piece of parchment." Sara pulled a piece of hide out from the folds of her dress. "Goodbye." Sara had said. Jade didn't know it at the time, but it would be the last time Jade would ever see Sara. For five centuries, Jade had looked but had been unable to find her creator. Jade had met hundreds of other vampires, but never the tall blonde who had given Jade her gift.

Jade started with the rapists and executioners, then moved on to the ones who had actually ordered her coven's death. She drank all of them dry, feeling her revenge and power surge through her veins like a fire. She then murdered their families, their children, their friends, and others associated with them in the French government. For years afterwards, she moved like a phantom from place to place, following them, leaving a blood trail of dozens of lives. Her rampage became notorious, and Jade moved on to other witch hunters. Enlightenment and the end of superstition was often cited as the cause of the end of the witch hunts, but in reality, it was the maniacal yet brilliantly-coordinated movements of a ghost - the vampire Jade, former servant of the Goddess.

For years later, Jade only fed from Christians and those of other religions, but never from the male Pagans she met or even from the women. Even though her religion had died within her, she could not bring herself to violate those whom she considered to be brothers and sisters. They had shared a common strife, though Jade was no longer one of them. In recent years, she had taken to feeding from Pagans, but only if they were well aware of her inhuman state and consented. But she did find their blood more nourishing and powerful. For feeding was more than just a simple physical act, it was a momentary joining, like making love, only more powerful and intimate.

Jade lay in her bed, not tired. As she grew older, she also needed less rest and even less blood. These days, a couple of minutes of sleep were more than enough to revive her, and often, she went weeks without any sleep at all. She stood up, going to her refrigerator to get some blood, bottled blood - disgusting but nourishing. Not that she really needed it - she had had more than her fill during the night, but she, like any glutton, ate more out of the pleasure of doing it.

Sunlight poured in the house, showing Jade's translucent skin's every vein and blood rivulet. Jade drank her blood - cow's blood. It didn't have the kick of human blood, even straight from the veins, but it satisfied her for the moment. She walked to her window, looking out into the rolling meadows behind her house to the woods beyond. Erin had always been envious of her back yard - she had often said that it made a wonderful place to hold a ritual as Jade had let Erin perform ritual back there many times. Jade didn't want to admit her agreement, but there was an untouched, serene beauty about her current home. Few people lived out this way.

Jade felt restless. She disliked morning more than any other time of day because it was the most revealing. Afternoon shadows distorted her true nature. Noon created light that came at such an angle as to thwart most superstitious and probing eyes. But morning hid nothing. It revealed everything. Jade looked like a vampire; no mortal could doubt it to look at her.

But Jade didn't want to stay in her house. She went to her bedroom, picked out some jeans, a sweater, and some tennis shoes. She looked in the mirror at her inhuman reflection and got out her makeup bag. She applied lipstick, rouge, and eye shadow. She looked like a clown, but at least she looked like a human clown. Then, she left, leaving the car in the garage.

Jade loved to travel by flight. It was faster. She only traveled by car when she needed to or wanted to waste a little time. And she had time to waste; that was for certain. She decided to go to the art museum. She had not been there in years, and it got her out of the house. Plus, there was something there she needed to see.

Ten years ago. Jade had just arrived in St. Louis to spend her incarnation as Anna Valentine. She had purchased her mansion, had fake IDs and other documents made for her so she could live the next twenty years as a normal, mortal woman. Well, a normal, mortal woman who owned enough money to buy a good-sized country. She found the people of the town amusing, the French flavor all but obliterated, leaving only the name. Only parts - such as Soulard - held their distinctive French personality.

It had been a clear, winter day close to the Winter Solstice when Jade had first met Erin. Jade had always enjoyed culture, though in her mortal days she had had little time to enjoy it. Since her becoming a vampire, she had made the point to visit every museum and city the world over. In five hundred years, she had nearly achieved her goal. Though it had been forty years since she had visited this particular museum, she wanted to go back. One thing that was true - wherever she went, if any amount of time passed, even a few years, things were never the same when she returned. It was true for mortals, but it was even truer for Jade.

Jade first noticed the girl in the religious section. Jade hated religious art - well, she hated Christian art. It not only left a bad taste in her mouth, but it also was too flat and unemotional. There was nothing inspiring about that artwork. It barely even reflected the love of the artists for their Christian God. It only stared back, very blankly.

But the girl was not staying to look at the art, only passing through. Jade watched her, intrigued. The girl could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen, though her bearing and stance suggested someone of much older years. Jade lifted her tongue to expose her sensory organ, smelling the girl's very mortal blood. If Jade had not known better, she would have guessed that this girl was an immortal herself.

The girl had long, reddish-gold hair, fair skin, and was dressed in long-sleeved black turtleneck and jeans. Sophisticated, Jade thought. And she is here alone.

Jade followed her, though she kept back, tried to be inconspicuous. It was late morning, and in the room they entered, indirect sunlight flooded the room. That was when Jade noticed Pan. Or, more precisely, Reclining Pan.

He was a statue approximately life size, all marble and in front of a large window. It seemed out of place with the flat, lifeless religious art of the adjoining room. Pan, the god of the woodlands and flocks lay, mouth parted, holding the head of a goat in one arm, his pan pipes in the other. Jade was reminded of her mortal days - the Horned God, the Pagan God. Jade had been entranced. So had been the girl. Both of them looked at the statue for several minutes, occasionally moving to get a look at Pan from another angle.

"He's beautiful." The girl said. "Masculine, powerful. You can feel the sexuality radiating off of him."

It was a moment before Jade realized the girl had spoken to her. "You know what He means?"

"Oh, yes. He's the Pagan God." She turned to smile at Jade, looking into Jade's eyes for several moments. The girl's smile faded suddenly as her eyes looked quickly to the ground. Jade understood. The girl had picked up on Jade's inhuman aura. The girl was a witch, and as a witch, she could sense more than the average human. A small, silver pentacle gleamed on her chest.

Jade nodded. "You are a Pagan." Jade stated.

"My mother and I are. It is a family tradition really, though she didn't get into it until I was five years old." The girl's voice was quiet with fear. The girl glanced hesitantly Jade's way. "You aren't human, are you?" She barely whispered.

Jade came closer, placing a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "You are very sensitive. Most humans think their mind is playing tricks on them or just refute what their senses tell them. But, even more don't even notice."

"What are you?" The girl looked over at Jade, eyes penetrating Jade's.

"Not very different from you, when you get down to it. I was a Pagan once many, many years ago, but I'm not now. I haven't been in over five hundred years."

"My Goddess! What are you?" The girl pulled away, her fear thick on the air. Jade tried to pull her in with her presence, but the girl was not swayed. Mind control powers would not work on her.

"I am a vampire, but don't have any fear - I will not harm you. I don't harm Pagans. I never have, and I never will."

The girl sized Jade up, her eyes darting to a small group of people passing through. "What - What is your name?"

"I go by the name of Anna in this incarnation, but my real name is Jade."

The girl was afraid, but something else was there - curiosity.

"My name is Erin. You were a Pagan once?"

Jade smiled. "I think we'll need to talk. This is a lot for any mortal to handle all at once, but I commend you on your calm. Come, let us walk."

Jade and Erin spend the rest of the afternoon walking through the museum, talking. Jade learned that Erin was sixteen, though Jade knew that Erin's soul was much, much older than that. They became fast friends, and ever since that day, they had been together.

Jade stood in front of the statue, remembering. Ten years had gone by as a split second for her. She had often wondered at the oddity of her relationship to Erin - a vampire and a human witch. Erin had always had a little fear of Jade - that had never left, but both knew that Jade would never hurt Erin. Jade had even saved Erin's life once.

Jade often wondered at the bond between them. In many ways to her, it made logical sense - they had shared blood, something that forged a bond between two vampires or a vampire and a mortal so tightly that they could feel each other's thoughts and actions at nearly every moment. Jade had made the decision to create that bond when she and Erin had known each other only two years.

One year later, that bond turned out to be the thing that had saved Erin's life.

It was sunset on a December day, Jade and Erin watching the swirls of sunlight fade to corals, dusty blues, and hot pinks. Eventually, the sky turned midnight blue as the sun disappeared entirely.

"How many sunsets have you seen, Jade?" Erin asked, biting into a sandwich she had brought. They were in Jade's back yard - an expanse of several acres. At this place, it gave any onlooker a clear view of sunset. Hills rolled into a substantial forest; Jade had let Erin do ritual here, and even Jade's lack of faith told her that power thrived here in the form of nature and human will.

"I have no idea. Tens of thousands. Maybe a hundred thousand. I've seen the moon rise and set almost as many times, and it go through its monthly cycle thousands of times. I've lived through over five hundred years, two thousand changes of seasons." Jade stared at the fading light of the sunset, then looked over at the face full of awe that was Erin's.

"I guess I knew the answer to that; it still always amazes me. The things you have done, the things you have seen. Places you've been to. People you have met. Did you really live for fifty years in Paris?"

Jade smiled. "Paris isn't half as exciting as you'd expect. I've spent more time in France than any other place. I was born in France, remember."

Erin's smile amused Jade. She was childlike in some ways, infinitely old in other ways. Jade was sure that Erin had lived many other lives, just not like the many other lives Jade had lived. It never ceased to amaze Jade just how much Erin loved hearing Jade's stories about her five hundred years of existence. Jade enjoyed telling them, though. It made her feel as if she was sharing some of what she knew and had experienced with another being, even if she knew, deep down, that Erin would not live forever.

"Erin, you could have just as intense experiences as I have had, you know. I could bring you across. I am offering that gift to you, if you should choose to take it."

Erin's expression cut through Jade like a sharp pain. Jade regretted having asked it, but it was one thing they had never discussed.

Erin shook her head, and that was all the answer Jade needed. For several minutes, both were silent, immersed in each other's thoughts.

"Erin, I have known many mortals in my time. I have known other vampires who have brought others across, but I never have. I have never met a mortal I felt that was worthy of such a gift. But then I met you. Erin, I don't offer this lightly. You don't even have to take it now, but just think about it."

"I have thought about it, Jade." Erin said quietly. "And I know that it is something I do not want. I admire you and love hearing stories about your life, but I know that the change did something to you. You were a Pagan once when you were mortal, but you aren't now. Jade, there are few things in this world as important to me as my love and belief in the Goddess. Losing that would destroy me. I could live for centuries, but I would be trapped in a life I would hate. Would you want to do that to me?"

Jade touched Erin's face. "No, I would not. I will respect your wish."

They were silent again, Erin huddling in her coat as the temperature quickly dropped.

"You're cold. Let's go inside." Jade said, standing up.

"Jade, is there a way for me to get a better idea of what it means to be you without becoming a vampire? I feel a great closeness to you, but there is still a barrier. I have a feeling you know how to make that bond stronger…" Erin stood up. Erin was a couple inches taller than Jade.

"There is a way. It involves a sharing of blood. I drink from you, and you then drink from me. You won't become a vampire, but you may experience some of my powers for a few hours afterwards. I've never done this, but I have spoken with other vampires who have. From what I understand, vampires who bring others across also experience the same thing, a bond that can never be broken. Erin, if we do this, I will feel you wherever you are, and you will feel me just as strongly if not stronger. We may even have a telepathic connection." Their eyes were locked.

"I would like to do it, then." Erin whispered.

Jade was aware that a blood bond was like making love, only more intense in a lot of ways. It was certainly more intimate. When Jade drank from a mortal, she got only a glimpse of what it might be like, but the exchange was entirely one-sided. Here, it would be a give and take of both persons.

They sat on Jade's couch, looking at each other. Erin seemed to be waiting for Jade to do something, though Jade felt almost as inexperienced. She had never fed from Erin; they were friends, not lovers. Yet even Jade felt the stir of sexual attraction here, and she was certain Erin also felt it.

Jade took Erin's hands in hers, feeling the human warmth that she lacked. She picked up one of Erin's hands and kissed it, feeling Erin's responsive shudder.

They kissed, tongues intertwining. Neither of them had ever had a lesbian experience, nor had either of them ever even entertained the idea, yet a bond stronger than sexual attraction was taking over, and they both fell into it. They caressed each other, exploring, inviting, feeling. They took off each other's clothes, bonding in a human, sexual way first.

Jade bit into Erin's neck, feeling the panicked resistance for a moment as Erin tried to push Jade away. Jade let go, soothing Erin quietly with her arms. Erin exposed her neck again, inviting, and Jade took it, letting Erin's sweet blood flow into her. Jade took it slowly, drop by drop, just so she could savor the taste and experience. Erin moaned, feeling the extreme pleasure brought on by feeding. Jade almost lost control herself, but maintained it for Erin's sake.

Jade let go, licking the wound to seal and heal it. Both sat back for a moment, lost in orgasmic pleasure. Then, Jade did something she had never done before in front of Erin.

Jade had the ability to grow claws, claws that could be used for fighting. Jade grew one on her index finger, watching Erin's shocked face. "It is alright. It is only another power of mine. Trust me."

"I trust you." Erin said. Jade looked at the naked young woman, admiring her beauty. Erin had a slight built, long legs, and small, high breasts. Jade was stockier, larger in the chest, and shorter.

Jade slashed her neck, exposing a rivulet of blood on her throat. She controlled the blood flow to a trickle, just enough. "Now, drink."

Erin bent over Jade, kissing her on the lips. Erin could taste her bodily fluids both blood and vaginal on Jade's lips. Erin shook as she looked at Jade's neck, then began to drink.

Jade had never been fed from before, not since the day Sara had turned her into a vampire. Jade had even fed from other vampires, though she had never consented to them feeding on her. Pleasure flooded her, and she pressed Erin closer to her. Erin could take as much as she wanted, or as much as her human stomach could hold. Jade moaned, pressing her body closer to Erin's. For several minutes, they were locked in that position, Jade feeling vulnerable, submissive, almost like the humans she had often fed from.

When Erin pulled away, they knew that something had been formed there that went beyond what either of them could have predicted. And suddenly, Erin knew why she could never become a vampire and why she should be even more adamant in her refusal of Jade's offer.

Since that night, both had been intimately aware of where the other was at all times, though Jade somehow knew that Erin was even more aware. Erin could now do some of the things Jade was capable of, and while Jade had said that those powers would disappear after a few hours or few days, some of the powers remained. Erin could read thoughts, not just of Jade's but often, other people's.

But no matter what, Jade knew that Erin would never become a vampire. Even if Jade tried to bring Erin across against her will, Erin would let herself die first.

Jade had at one time had the opportunity and chance to become a very powerful witch had her family not been murdered. But even beyond the death of her family, Jade's religion had always been strong. It had been strong until the day of her turning into a vampire. At that moment, her belief in the Goddess had vanished. She could not do the same thing to Erin. Erin had a powerful and unique belief; it would kill her for Jade to destroy that. And while Erin and Jade had a special kind of love for each other and now, an even stronger bond, such a violation would make Erin hate Jade forever.

Jade left the museum, thinking of another time when the bond they had shared had become a matter of life and death. It had been only a year later when Erin had been nineteen. Jade had often wondered what would have happened had they not shared the blood bond. Would Jade still have been aware of Erin's peril?

It had been snowing, though not much had accumulated. Nevertheless, the roads were very slick. Jade knew that Erin was out in the weather, and she worried. Jade could feel Erin's tenseness and finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. Jade took off into the night, feeling the featherlike snowflakes brushing against her cheeks as she sought the place on the highway where Erin was.

Traffic was steady but slow, and Jade saw Erin's Corsica down below. She followed it from flight.

Jade noticed the car several hundred feet back going too fast, saw the car slide, slide into other cars which caused a domino effect. Erin's car was the last one hit, but there was nothing to stop Erin's car from cascading forward. Erin's car continued to slide, and Jade watched in horror as it slid off the highway into a ditch below.

Jade wasted no time. When she got to the car, Erin had hit her head and was disoriented. She was also stuck. The front end of the car was crushed like an accordion, and while Erin was otherwise uninjured, her legs were pinned.

There was another problem.

The gas tank had been punctured. The car would likely explode.

"Erin! Erin, can you hear me?" Jade screamed over the howling winds.

"Jade? What are you doing here?" Erin was disoriented, her voice thick. Jade had no time to tell, but she suspected Erin was in worse shape than was immediately evident. She sensed a head injury.

"Erin, I need to get you out of here. The car will explode, and we might only have a few minutes. Can you move your legs?"

Erin's eyes snapped open, the fog clearing. "Explode?!"

"Can you move your legs?"

Erin tried, but slumped from exhaustion.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Erin asked, resigned. She began to cry.

Jade was angry. "No! You will not die. I can get you out of here. Shit!"

Jade ripped the steering wheel away, then proceeded to create enough room for Erin to move. Jade could smell burning fuel and suspected they only had a couple of minutes at most. Jade could hear sirens, but she knew that they would not show up soon enough. Jade worked quickly, finally giving Erin enough room to wiggle free. Jade picked Erin up, seeing the sparks and small flame start at the front of the car.

Jade didn't stop until they were back up onto the highway. At that moment, the car exploded in a burst of heat and flames.

Erin had suffered a mild concussion and a few bruises, but she would have died had Jade not been there. That night, more than the blood bond, had been a turning point in their relationship. The bond had been solidified, or at least they had believed that it had been.

But a problem started a few years later. Jade had lost her religion, and although they still had a strong bond and love for each other, the bond was beginning to weaken. Jade had not felt Erin until she had been very close to her at the bar. And Jade was very certain that Erin had no idea Jade was waiting for her outside her work place for lunch.

Jade knew that Erin had lunch around noon, provided she didn't get bogged down with work. At five after, Jade was waiting outside of Erin's office building as Erin searched distractedly in her purse for her keys.

"Want company for lunch?" Jade asked, then smiled at Erin's surprised look.

"Sorry, I'm not aware of any place that serves blood sandwiches." Erin grinned.

"That's alright. I can watch you eat. Where do you want to go?"

Erin ate her hamburger, Jade watching the young woman. Erin had never craved blood after that night of the blood bond, which was a good sign. It meant that Erin didn't have any partial change-over. They hadn't even exchanged blood since then - something Jade had missed but had never pressed for more.

"So, other than watching me eat, why did you come out to lunch with me?" Erin asked after swallowing a bite.

Jade was quiet, frowning as she looked into Erin's eyes. "I think we both know why."

Erin shook her head, though her eyes betrayed her thoughts. "I have an idea, but I really don't know."

"Our bond is weakening. It has been 8 years since we have shared blood; it could be that it needs to be renewed every few years. Last night, I didn't feel you until you said my name. Today, you didn't feel me until you saw me. I think we need to think about what we need to do to keep our bond strong, if we want to keep it strong."

Erin's bit back tears, know this moment was upon them. "Jade, I don't think it has anything to do with the blood bond, and if you were honest with yourself, you'd realize that."

Jade shook her head, confused. How could she have been wrong? "Then, what? Do you think having me come to your Midwinter ritual will revive that?"

Erin began to cry. "Yes, I do. Jade, I love you. I'll always have a bond with you, no matter what happens. When we shared the blood bond, it brought us closer, but that was a physical bond we shared. Even if we did the blood bond again, I don't think it would bring us back to where we were. Jade, I'm a Pagan. If I could, I would devote my life to the Goddess and Her worship. Had the world been a different place, I would. But you don't feel that way. You did once. Now you don't. And it is splitting us apart."

Jade tried to control her anger. She was feeling sad herself, and she hadn't cried since the day her family had been murdered. She wasn't about to start now. In addition, crying over a mortal, no matter what the circumstances, infuriated her at herself. "Erin, going to a Pagan ritual won't revive my view of religion. It is naïve of you to really believe that. And I know you better."

"Jade, just please do this for me. If you really loved me, you'd try. Just be there. That is all that I ask." Erin stood up, putting on her coat. She left enough money to cover the bill, then left.

Jade sat there for a few minutes. Fear throttled her, but fear of what? Erin's words did make sense. A blood bond should last forever, regardless of how often it was done.

Unless, of course, something else intervened.

Jade spent the next few days thinking about Midwinter. Almost as compensation, she donated even more money to charities. Since that day at lunch, she had not spoken to Erin, and her heart ached from not having done so. They had never spent this much time not talking, and it worried her. Was she still even invited to the party?

The day of the party was bright and sunny but bitingly cold. It had snowed two days before, and the snow had not yet melted. Icicles hung off of the gutters of Jade's home. A beautiful winter wonderland of white graced Jade's back yard. It was amazing.

Jade walked outside onto her deck, brushing some of the snow off the railings. "Goddess, you have deserted me - five hundred years now. I don't even know if you even exist, for me at least. Maybe for Erin you do. I love Erin. She is the only mortal I have ever loved. I don't know if finding you again will bring us back close, but I want to give it a try."

Jade heard nothing, felt nothing. The wind blew lightly, the sky bright, powder blue. It was 4 hours until the party. She had to get ready.

Jade showed up at quarter after 4, package of cookies in hand. Jade felt odd going to the grocery store to pick up food; she had never done it before. She had looked at the packages and packages of cookies, not knowing what to get. What did mortals like? In desperation, she had noticed an old woman with a pile of cooking ingredients in her cart. Jade had asked her what was good, and the old woman had smiled, not acting as if she had thought the question odd. The old woman had selected a package of iced sugar cookies. There had been trees, wreaths, reindeer, Santas, and bells mixed in. Jade thanked the woman, and left with her purchase.

Jade rang the doorbell, wondering if Erin would be there yet. James answered the door, his smile wide, surprised, and bright at seeing her.

"Hello, Jade. It is good you came." His eyes and smile were suggestive, and he looked Jade over from head to foot.

Jade smiled, remembering the last time she had seen him. Like many Pagan men, he had been very good in bed, and she had enjoyed his blood as well. Since then, she had enjoyed James on a couple of other occasions. He had been affected from what vampires referred to as "vampire lust." This was when a mortal became addicted to the feeding, lusting after what a vampire could give, or rather take, from them. Often, most vampires were more than happy to have such vessels, for it gave a very safe, dependable supply of blood.

"And you, James." She hugged him, feeling the sexual spark. She wondered if his wife knew that she was a vampire. She certainly knew that she and James had been lovers at one time. Not that it bothered her - open marriages were not uncommon among Pagans.

"Well, you are the first to arrive. It seems everyone is working on Pagan standard around here. Have a seat, relax."

"Thanks." Jade said, taking off her coat. "Erin invited me here about a week ago, but I'm not sure I'll participate. I do plan to watch, though."

"Watching is good." James said, winking. Jade smiled, thinking about later.

Smells of all kinds permeated the house. It was an older house, though not very big. The yard was tiny compared to Jade's, but few Pagans had access to large pieces of land. For the small group, it would do.

Jade and James talked, waiting for others to show up. His wife Renee was upstairs getting ready, and she came down the stairs just as the doorbell rang.

Jade had never met Renee, but she was a very attractive woman in her late thirties. Both she and James made a beautiful couple, and they made a good match. Renee's curly, light brown hair was loose about her shoulders, and she wore a burgundy colored velvet dress which flattered her coloration. Renee came down the stairs as the doorbell rang, and Jade nodded to her as she opened the door.

Erin was there, and behind her were a couple of others. Erin and Jade's eyes met, and both smiled.

Jade was quiet as the others talked in the living room. All were dressed very nicely, and Jade felt rather plain in her long-sleeved black satin dress. All total, there were thirteen of them - if they included Jade.

The others talked and socialized, getting food from a table where everyone had put their dishes they had brought. Jade commented occasionally, but remained for the most part silent.

Janet, a young woman a little older than Erin, saw that Jade was not eating. Jade figured this eventuality, and had had a statement prepared.

"Jade, you aren't eating. You okay?"

"I'm fine. I just had a dinner party with family this afternoon, and I'm still full." Jade lied.

Erin and James heard Jade and had to snicker. Jade shot a seething look at them.

Janet raised an eyebrow. "Sorry to hear that. The cookies you brought are delicious. You should try some of them later when you get hungry again. And the spiral cut ham is very good, too."

Jade tried to keep her nausea down at the idea of ham. "I'm a vegetarian. Thanks."

Jade thought the party couldn't get any more hellish. She had taken Pagans in very small numbers, but she had never been to a party before, at least not one of even this size.

James sat next to Jade while the others were in the kitchen, getting some coffee. "You aren't exactly a social butterfly, are you?" He asked.

"I've been a loner for the past five hundred years. I bounce from place to place, and I've never formed a strong personal connection with any human, not until Erin anyway. I'm also not used to parties. Will the ritual start soon? I'm getting tired of this charade of eating and drinking. I'll need to leave soon, or they'll really start to wonder why I'm not eating anything." Jade was growing irritated, and as much as she liked James, she was getting irritated with him as well.

James put down his fork. "Jade, your problem is not the fact that you are a vampire; it is the fact that you can't enjoy the gift you have been given. There are many in this world who dream of living even one tenth as much life as you have lived."

Jade raised an eyebrow. "You?"

James had to smile. "I'm forty years old. I love my wife. I love being a Pagan. I have no desire to become what you are. I have lived a very complete life, and if the gods grant me luck, I will have many more productive years to come."

"Then why do you consider me lucky? James, I have seen many things in my five centuries, but living that long is tiring, and many of my kind have wished that they could die after a certain amount of time has passed. I can't eat. I can't even sleep anymore. I can't even form human bonds anymore, even with Erin."

James looked at Jade more closely. "Are you two alright?"

Jade turned away. "I'm an immortal. She isn't. If death doesn't separate us, something else will."

"Ah, so that is it. I understand now. What is it? You have been closer than most couples I know. What is separating you two?" James leaned forward, waiting for Jade's answer.

"I can't believe I'm discussing this with you." Jade snapped, but James still waited. "Religion is separating us. Surely there are mortal couples out there or friends who have been split apart by religious differences."

James nodded. "Yes, but I suspect this split is a little deeper."

"I can't feel the Goddess or the Pagan God like you can, James. Erin has a gift, and that gift is a thousand times more powerful than being a vampire. She has a religious connection that I had once but have since lost. I guess in some ways, I envy her even as I love her."

They heard the stirring in the other room as footsteps let them know they were about to have company.

"Jade, all I can say to you is that it is never too late. That connection can be found again, even after it has been lost. But don't refind that connection for Erin's sake - do it for your own sake. Through that, you may find your friendship stronger than ever." James stood up, giving Jade a wink as he ate another piece of ham.

While the others talked about what they would do for ritual, Jade thought on James' words. She was always amazed at the wisdom many mortals produced, and James was no exception. He had been more than an interesting human lover; he had been an interesting soul to talk to. Jade realized that she wanted to know more about him. Before Erin, she had never really longed to know more about any human being, other than the sordid stories that frequently came up in the news.

They got bundled up in their coats, filing outside where an altar had been set up earlier. A small bonfire had been started in the center, and surrounding it were sprigs of holly, oak, and pine with pine cones. A figure of a pregnant Goddess and a newborn baby God were set up, and in each direction - North, East, South, and West - objects representing the element they belonged to were also placed. A large stone and pentacle in the North. A feather and incense burner in the East. A jar candle and volcanic rock in the South. And a conk shell and chalice in the West. Tracy, another twenty-something Pagan woman, held a small ritual blade - the athame. Jade remembered such an object from her mortal days, and it was used to trace the path of the circle's edge. Renee and James had on necklaces representing the God and Goddess.

Erin was in the Southern corner, and a man named Brian in the East. Dana, an older woman and probably the oldest one there, was in the North, and Janet was in the West.

Jade stood just outside of the circle, feeling the power emanating from the people and the circle that contained them. All turned to look at Jade, and Erin beckoned to her.

"No, I can't, Erin. I can't participate."

Erin walked towards her, taking Jade's hands. "What are you afraid of, Jade?"

Jade was silent. There really was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing. Except that she might feel something here, might actually get close again to Erin. What was she afraid of? Love?

Jade let Erin lead her into the circle. Jade could feel the power, feel it thrust itself inside of her. Jade held hands with Erin on one side, James on the other. Their hands felt warm and alive in comparison to the corpse-like cold of her own hands.

Karen, a good friend of Renee's, came forward with the smudge stick - a bundle of sage and pine needles. When she got to Jade, she pulled back a little, feeling the vampire aura. Jade could see the woman swallow, then continue to smudge her. When she was finished, all eyes were on Jade. They knew. They all knew what she was. What was Jade afraid of? Being discovered? Yes, but that wasn't the whole story. But it was enough. Nothing bad had happened, not yet anyway, but Jade felt a growing terror as Karen finished smudging. She couldn't meet the eyes of anyone there, but she felt the reassuring squeeze from the hands of Erin and James.

Tracy began to cast the circle, pausing for a second every time she passed Jade, a furrow forming between her eyebrows. She looked curiously at Jade, but said nothing. Three times around she went. Finally, she ended where she had begun - in the North.

Trace entered the circle saying, "The circle is cast," as she took the hand of Renee standing next to her, then it went around the circle. When it got to Jade, she could feel the eyes on her as she said the words. She felt like an enemy, vilified, evil and impure.

Starting in the North, Dana called the element and direction, and Jade felt a sense of security, of stability and steadiness. Then, with a shock, she realized that these were the qualities of that direction, of Earth. When East was called, she could feel the winds and feel the often still breath within her body. When Erin called South, she could feel the licking flames and body heat of all of those around her. She could feel the heat surge up from inside of her, and for a split second, the long-still heart in her chest beat. Jade felt alive. She almost felt mortal and human. While such a feeling would usually have terrified Jade, instead it comforted her, made her feel like she belonged.

When Janet called the West, Jade could feel the blood in her like a river, flowing like an emotional tide. For a brief minute, both blood and heart beat, and a flush of color touched her cheeks. Jade didn't know what was happening to her, just that she wasn't afraid and felt more alive than she ever had, except when she had been a mortal.

James crossed his arms and called in the God. "Great God. Father, Lover, Sage, Hunter, Young Son. Tonight we watch as the hour of Your birth comes closer. The Goddess labors with You, and we welcome You back into our lives. You died at Samhain; soon, You will be reborn. Welcome, Father."

A sense of power swirled around them, landing within Jade. Jade felt herself gasp as the spirit of the God passed through her. Before her, she saw the silhouette of a man with a long beard and horns. His form flickered, but she could have sworn she saw the shadow of the Reclining Pan before her, smiling at her in the dark.

Renee came forward, her long, brown hair like a halo in the firelight. "Great Goddess. Mother, Maiden, Crone, Huntress. Tonight we give energy to the rebirth of Your son as Your labor comes to its fruitful end. Goddess, Mother, You who come back to us as Mother after Your time as Crone, bless us all here tonight. Welcome, Mother."

Jade could feel the pull of a great maternal figure dancing before her. The Goddess morphed and changed, becoming in several instants a laughing beautiful maiden, a pregnant mother, and the old crone. In their faces, Jade saw her sister, her mother, and Vivienne come before her, kiss her, love her. Jade tried to hold back her tears, for she had not heard or felt the love of her family since their deaths. At once, the figure became the Goddess, Mother of all, and She touched the face of Jade gently, wiping away the blood tears. There was only acceptance there, and Jade felt her again for the first time in five hundred years. Jade couldn't help but cry, letting the blood tears flow freely down her cheeks.

Jade saw the God and Goddess walk around the circle, blessing all of those within the circle. Finally, the two figures stilled as James began, "Mother and Father, we will now speak our wishes for others dear to us. Listen to our prayers and our hearts."

Around the circle, everyone said their wish, their gift for someone else. After James said his, all turned to Jade.

Jade was speechless. She opened and closed her mouth, feeling like a drowning bird. Finally, she was able to speak. "I… I don't know what to say. I have not been to a Pagan ritual in… a long time. Years ago, my family was murdered, all of them, just because they were something they felt they should be proud to be. Since then, their killers have been brought to justice, but I have never felt their spirits since… not until tonight. I want them to find peace at last if they have not already. And I also wish something else." She squeezed Erin's hand gently. "I come here tonight to renew my faith in the Goddess. For once I was Pagan, and I feel Her again."

Jade looked up to smiles all around her, where a few minutes before there had been fear on some of their faces. Erin squeezed Jade's hand back gently in return.

"My wish is for friends I have to become stronger friends. I only wish their happiness, and I hope they can find peace once again in whatever way they can." Erin said, meeting Jade's eyes. They smiled at each other, feeling the bond twist, shape, and reform. Jade felt the connection strengthen and grow. They knew what the other was thinking.

After the wishes, they raised power. Jade felt the powers of the winds, the earth, the fires, and the waters rush over the circle members and through them. An almost visible cone of power was formed, twisting into a greater and greater funnel that spun at a faster and faster rate. Finally, Jade saw the funnel break away, shooting like a comet out into the universe of stars. As the energy dissipated, they hugged each other, a sense of glory filling them all.

The circle was brought down, and everyone went inside. Jade expected a little fear at her presence, but she got instead some curiosity. Everyone there knew. They didn't fear her, but they didn't really know how to act around her. At least no one asked her why she wasn't eating.

Jade and Erin were the last ones there just after midnight. Renee was often early to bed, so she said her goodnights, giving Jade a warm hug before going upstairs to bed.

Jade sat between James and Erin, deep in thought.

"Jade, I felt your heart beat for a second during the ritual." Erin said.

Jade smiled. "Yes, I'm sure you did. I can not thank you enough, Erin, for inviting me here tonight. And you, James. Our talk earlier helped me prepare for this. It is still hard for me - I've seen things that would turn anyone's heart cold, but I'm feeling less damaged by it."

Erin stood up. "Jade, you're going to be all right. I think we're going to be all right as well. Will you stay in St. Louis longer than another ten years?"

Jade had to smile at the woman's request. "It is often suspicious when someone doesn't start to age, even after twenty years, but I'll try to stay as long as I can. And as long as the Pagan population of St. Louis doesn't come after me for being a vampire."

"I think you'll be safe, Jade." James said. "You might encounter some fear, but people often fear what they don't understand. Once people get to know you, they might understand you better."

"I don't think you are in the majority, James, but I still would like to keep those who know down to as few as possible."

Erin began to make way for the door. Jade stood up. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, I think you still have some cakes and ale you need to consume before the evening is over. Come to my place when you get done. I think we have a sunrise date."

Jade hugged the young woman. "Erin, I can't thank you for all you have done for me. You have saved me more than any person could ever be saved. I love you."

They kissed. "I love you, too, Jade. Now, hurry up. You have seven hours." She then winked at her.

Jade left an hour before dawn, totally satiated. James had the sweetest, most luscious blood she had ever tasted - except for Erin's that is. James gave her a kiss as Jade walked out the door, promising another night like this one in the coming weeks.

Jade arrived at Erin's apartment just as the Eastern horizon glowed in predawn. Erin had made some coffee for herself and had lit a white candle on the altar in her living room. Next to the white candle were two gold ones.

"At dawn, we'll light the gold candles from the white one, one for each of us." Erin explained.

They held hands, seeing the bright light of the sun peak over the horizon. Of all the sunrises Jade had ever witnessed, this one was truly the most beautiful, the most pure. Golden rays shot out into the living room, blinding Jade and Erin with their light. They took the two gold candles, each lighting them simultaneously from the white candle. Jade bent over to kiss Erin.

"Erin, I love you." Jade said.

Erin smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Jade, I love you, too. Happy Solstice."

BACK TO THE TOP

Not Just Mama's Little Girl - The Story of Persephone

Persephone stormed out of the house, not looking back at Demeter's angry, shrill voice that boomed behind her. This was definitely the last straw.

Persephone was as grown woman, but sometimes her mother acted as if she were still the little girl Kore - the dutiful, immature girl that represented the turning of Spring. Persephone had outgrown Kore years ago and was now Persephone, a Maiden but still a woman in her own right. Demeter would have to let go of Kore and accept that Persephone was here to stay. Permanently.

Persephone looked at the world around her, even in her anger not losing sight of the beauty that thrived before her. Trees swayed and drooped with fruit. Flowers blossomed every day of the year. Everywhere she turned, flower and harvest coexisted side by side, each giving relief to the other but each existing simultaneously. People ate the sweet fruit off of the trees, basked in the forever summer sun, drank from the streams which were forever clear and warm.

Persephone sat down on a large rock, wondering. Her father, Zeus, was not responsible for all of this, though he was given much credit for it. The only reason he even played a part in this world was because Gaia had given him the job. Why was anyone's guess. It seemed these days Zeus was too busy chasing anything with breasts and polishing his lightning bolts. The joke was that he had slept with more women than the earth in a Priestess' graveyard. No one knew why Hermes, who was the god of communication, was not made to be ruler of Olympus and the mortal world. But he had only been a minor god, before of course he had tricked the Olympians into giving him the 12th spot at Olympus. What a guy.

Demeter and Zeus had had a torrid affair from which Kore had resulted. Hera had been pissed, as much as a woman could be who had had as many if not more lovers than the promiscuous Zeus, but since Demeter had quit speaking to Zeus, the two goddesses had become great friends.

Her mother, Demeter, was the implementer, and without her work, no flowers would bloom and no fruits would be plucked. Persephone did, however, feel often left out of the credit. Without her there, Demeter would not be able to function. As Kore, Persephone had been dependent on Demeter for her very life. Now, as Persephone, she wanted to get out on her own, be her own woman. And she wanted to have her own place in the world of the Greek gods, not just as a helper to an Olympian, but as a goddess in her own right. A Queen.

Persephone admired the beauty that her mother, and indirectly herself, had created. On the ground by her feet, a particularly pretty flower bloomed in many colors. Its face looked like a rainbow, with iridescent and metallic sheens radiating the golden sun's light back into Persephone's eyes. Persephone looked up and waved at the sun god Apollo making his daily ride across the sky. A mortal would have only seen the blinding light of the chariot's wheels, but Persephone saw the man, handsome and proud, and his four gilded stallions as they galloped over the horizon in the early-morning sky.

Persephone looked back down at the bloom, then picked it, putting it behind her ear.

Suddenly, the earth trembled, shaking Persephone out of her reverie. The world in front of her yawned, spasms rocking her off her perch. Out of the earth's wound, and orange-red glow lit the surrounding area, and sparks flew.

Persephone was not afraid, simply annoyed. What were the gods up to now? Was it Zeus doing some trick?

Persephone jumped back in revulsion as a demon crawled out from the hole. His skin was black charred, and his eyes were little, red lights peering from a wrinkled face. Small, pointed teeth chattered in his lipless mouth.

Persephone shuddered.

The ugly creature sighed, sitting himself down in front of Persephone as she pulled away from him. It looked down at the ground, ears drooping. Persephone had hurt its feelings.

"I know, I know. I'm not much to look at. An eternity in the underworld will do that to you, particularly if you live in fire."

Persephone felt sorry for the demon. "I'm sorry. It is just that I don't get to see too many demons. Doesn't that hurt - being so close to fire all of the time?"

The creature's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, no, not at all. I actually find it very comfortable. I was born in fire. In fact, I don't know how you deal with such chilly temperatures. I had better grab a coat." With that, a red-furred winter coat appeared on the creature's naked body. Persephone tried to stifle her giggle. He looked like an old, rich hag.

"So where was I? Oh, yes. I'm a demon from the Underworld. By the way, thanks for asking about my feelings. No one has ever done that before. Most, even gods and goddesses, run away screaming when they see a demon. Aphrodite screamed like a little girl, Cupid crapped his diapers, and Artemis tried to shoot me the last time I came out from the Underworld. Not safe up here for us demons." The demon huddled in his coat, ears pressed closer to his body to conserve heat.

"Demon… I'm sorry, what is your name?" Persephone asked.

The demon scratched his head. "Well, I don't think anyone has ever asked me that before. I'm not sure I have one. Just call me Demon I guess. That will do until I ask Hades for a raise. Maybe I can get one then."

Persephone shook her head. "What are you doing here?"

The demon stood up as if remembering something. "Oh, yes! Why I am here. The Great Ruler of the Underworld Hades requests an audience with you, My Lady. He wishes to meet you."

Persephone thought of the Underworld and what it contained. She shuddered. "Uh, what does Hades want from me?"

The creature pulled out a pipe and began smoking it, one red eye closed. "Well, he just wants to know more about you. I think he likes you."

Persephone rolled her eyes. "If it isn't an insufferable mother, it is the unwanted attentions from the ruler of the Underworld."

Demon frowned. "Have you ever met Hades?"

Persephone stopped for a moment, thinking. Had she? Of all of the times she had met the Olympians and other minor gods and goddesses, she didn't recall ever having met Hades in person. He always had someone come up and stand-in for him, but he had never attended get-togethers or meetings. Perhaps being ruler of the Underworld prevented him from such excursions. He certainly had snubbed the Olympians years ago by refusing to be named among them. He had never become an Olympian, though none considered him to be simply a minor god.

"Well, no, I can't say that I have." She didn't want to add that she didn't want to really meet the ruler of such a horrible place as the Underworld was purported to be with the risk of possibly hurting the demon's feelings again.

"Well, to answer your second question, he is pretty shy. He doesn't come up much. But he is a nice guy, once you really get to know him. He treats us well, keeps us demons happy and well-fed. Rumor is up here I understand that he treats the souls in the Underworld like crap, but I would have to disagree. He only really does that to those who had been criminals and other bad people when they were mortal. Half of the time, he doesn't let these characters go back to correct their mistakes. He just lets them perform whatever punishment he has chosen for them over and over and over - "

Persephone held up her hand. "Why does he want to meet me, Demon? Did you say that he likes me? Why?"

The demon looked at Persephone with appreciative eyes. "Why not?"

Persephone blushed, sputtering in half-anger, half-embarrassment at the demon's appreciation for her beauty. Persephone knew that she was beautiful. Hell, she was a goddess, so of course she was, but it embarrassed her to be reminded of it. "Well, I suggest if Mr. Hades wants to speak with me, he had better do it himself rather than ask one of his demons to do it." Persephone stood up, preparing to walk away.

"No! Wait!" The demon trotted after her, pulling on her skirts. "My Lady, he doesn't go around asking his demons to do things for him just to use us or to show anyone disrespect. He wants you to be escorted in style to him. He understands what you are going through with your mother - "

Persephone turned on the demon angrily. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF GAIA DOES HE KNOW ABOUT MY MOTHER AND MYSELF?"

The demon cringed. "He sympathizes with you…"

Persephone looked at the creature, shoulders and face relaxing. She sat down by him, looking into his hideous little beady eyes. "I'm sorry I yelled. It is just that it is a sensitive situation. My mother is too overbearing. She never lets me be just me."

"I'm sorry, Lady Persephone. Hades has no intention of taking away your freedom or your sense of self. He just wants to meet you. Make a charred little demon happy - come with me so you can meet him."

"I still don't know what he wants from me, and I really wish that he'd come see me himself." Persephone said, unsure of what to do.

"Let me speak to him. I can tell him your concerns, and either I or he will come see you within the hour." With that, the demon jumped back into the flaming hole, the earth sealing itself back up as if nothing had ever happened.

Meanwhile, Demeter was inside the house, seething. Persephone didn't understand. She was still Demeter's Kore. Child or not, Persephone was as much a part of Demeter as Demeter was a part of her. But in spite of Demeter's desires to bring she and Persephone closer together, it seemed to be having the opposite effect. Persephone was moving away from her, body and spirit.

Demeter went out to tend to the gardens of the earth, knowing that it would take her mind off of her and Persephone's fight. It did help… a little.

Persephone waited, gathering flowers to keep her mind off of her nervousness. After twenty minutes or so, the earth opened up again, and Persephone waited. No demon emerged. After a minute, Persephone was growing impatient. Either Hades would come out or the demon. What was taking so long?

But then Persephone held her breath as a rainbow cascaded out of the hole, crystal steps etching themselves into the multi-colored arc. Persephone knew that the steps were meant for her, but fear was preventing her from taking the first tentative steps on them. A hand made of mist was offered to her, and putting aside her fears, she took it. It helped her on the first step and then vanished into the atmosphere.

Persephone walked into the hole, at first terrified of the leaping flames below her. She was debating going back. As hard as it sometimes was with her mother, it was certainly better than dying in a pyre. She was about ready to turn to go back up the rainbow when a floating piece of glass large enough for someone to lie down on appeared at the base of the rainbow. Persephone's curiosity overtook her, and she stepped down on it.

The world she entered was neither as horrible nor as hot as she had anticipated. The air actually smelled sweet. Over the molten lava below her, the floating glass took her over a rock bank. Beyond that bank was a river - the River Styx.

A cloaked figure was waiting for her in a boat on the shore. The piece of glass landed, and she looked wearily at him. Every piece of skin was covered up, leading her to wonder what hideous personage was underneath. She took the offered hand, feeling its strong, hearty grip as the figure helped her into the boat.

So this was the River Styx. It didn't look any different from they way it did at Olympus. Just like any ordinary river really. The figure said nothing as they crossed.

On the opposite side, a huge, red, three-headed dog slept. When they hit the opposite shore, its charcoal-black eyes opened, all six of them, and focused on Persephone. She was terrified, remembering stories of Cerberus. He was the vicious, three-headed dog of Hell, Hades' pet.

Suddenly, three long, purple tongues lolled out as a large, whip-shaped tale began to thump wildly. Three puppy barks came from the huge monster, and the massive creature rolled onto its back, inviting a belly-rub.

Persephone had to laugh. Cerberus whined, wondering why this person was not petting him. Wasn't he so cute?

Persephone went up to the overgrown puppy and began scratching the furry belly. Three whines and groans of pleasure emitted from the dog. Cerberus was at least 4 times the size of Persephone in weight and at least twice as tall standing on four legs.

The cloaked figure beaconed to her, and she followed him. The smell of charred rock was become sharper.

They followed a path that wound through the cave; the ceiling rose high above them, and pictures were painted on them of Olympus and of the world above. Firelight cast shadows and created movement in the pictures where there weren't any. They soon passed by rooms, and Persephone's blood froze when she heard the horrible sounds coming from them. She momentarily stopped to see what was going on in one of them, and the blood drained from her face. Inside, a man was being eaten alive by wild dogs. Whenever he'd be consumed, they would eat him alive again.

Persephone turned away, wanting to be sick. She started to run back to the River Styx, wanting out. A strong hand held her back, and the figure spoke for the first time.

"Do you want to know what that man did?" He asked.

Persephone shook her head, unable to speak.

"He tortured and killed puppies. He would gouge out their eyes, cut out their tongues, and chop off their hind legs. Then, he'd let them go outside, to let them die of starvation or blood loss or to be eaten by a wild animal. Whichever happened first. Trust me, that man deserves every second of Hell he gets."

Persephone stared at him, agape as the figure turned back to the path and continued walking. Persephone didn't look back into the room, but the screams from other tortured persons in Hell shook her bones. Regardless of what they had done, they were suffering.

Persephone watched him as he walked, then began to follow him again. Whatever was happening, she didn't seem to be in any danger.

They soon came to a large door that spanned in height almost to the high ceiling. It was made of stone, except for the polished handle which appeared to have been made of brass.

The cloaked figure opened the door as if it had been made out of pine wood. Inside, the place was decorated for a prince - or a King. There were books, a stone table with writing implements, scrolls, candles, and books that were open.

"He seems to not be here. I will retrieve him. Have a seat by the desk." The cloaked figure said.

Persephone sat in a cushioned chair on the opposite side of the desk, looking around at the room while the figure disappeared behind yet another door at the far end of the room.

The room was not very large, and she was certain that this was only one of the rooms that belonged to Hades. This must be his study, she thought, looking at all of the titles of the books, though she had never suspected that the ruler of the Underworld would have been an intellectual. She peeked over at a piece of paper on the desk, at the fountain pen, and tried to read what he had written. He had stopped almost in mid-letter it seemed. Before she could begin to read the content, however, the door opened again.

Persephone looked up, not knowing what to expect. A malformed monster? Another demon only bigger and more powerful looking?

She was not expecting to see a handsome man.

Hades was dressed in all black leather, down to his polished leather boots. His jet-black hair was shoulder-length and combed back, and it fell in waves that were almost curls. He had a neatly-trimmed black beard and intense, unwavering… blue eyes.

Persephone was frozen. Her lips parted slightly. She could feel her body begin to stir, and that frightened her. Yes, she was her own woman. She also was a virgin. Sure, she could have had a man by now, but she had chosen not to. No one had appealed to her.

Yet.

Persephone stood up straight, regaining her composure. "Hades? It is about time you met me yourself rather than having one of your demons meet me."

Hades smiled, "I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect, I assure you."

"So, why have you called me down here?" Persephone tried to remain casual, but with her heart thundering in her chest, rattling her teeth with every beat, it was difficult.

"First, let's get you a more comfortable chair." He said, snapping his fingers. A chair larger and infinitely more inviting appeared where the other chair had been. Hades gently pushed the chair under her, and she sat down.

"I have been an admirer of you for some time, Persephone, and I wanted you to meet me in person. Few gods or goddesses get the chance to meet me, and even fewer get to meet me that often. I haven't been to Olympus since after the Titans were made to leave."

Persephone watched as he sat down across from her. "So how is it that you have been an admirer of me, if you have never even seen me?"

Hades looked into her eyes, and she blushed. "I had never seen you before. I was told of your beauty by my demons. I must compliment them on their accurate descriptions, though they did not do justice to your presence. Persephone, if you do not want my attentions, I will gladly take you back to the world above myself and never bother you again. But I want to get to know you better. Not just how you look, but also to actually hear for myself all the things my demons have said about you."

Persephone had to smile. "You flatter me."

"Is it flattery or honesty?" He grinned back.

"I see that you are great collector of books and studies. What could someone like you possibly want with me?"

"You are a collector of books and studies yourself, are you not?"

Persephone said nothing, but continued to look at the book titles.

"You seem to have quite a selection of books. Gardening, Hades? What could you possible want with books on gardening?" She looked at him curiously.

Hades grinned. "So you think the Underworld is just fire, rock, and screaming souls. Not true. We have gardens down here, gardens that need to be tended. Gardens in need of a woman's touch. A god and a bunch of demons could never do it justice. Would you like to see it?"

Persephone nodded, wondering what an Underworld garden could look like. Hades took her hand, and together they went through another doorway into a dark hall. Persephone felt the warm, strong touch of Hades, and was mesmerized. How could this god be the ruler of the Underworld? Was she dreaming?

Hades opened a door, and Persephone sucked in her breath in total awe. Demeter would have been jealous of such an ostentatious display of color and beauty. Persephone ran into the room, admiring the roses, daffodils, lavender, lilac, violets, lily of the valley, and other flowers blooming all at the same time. There was a small garden of vegetables, and at one end, a pomegranate tree. The last one, she ran up to eagerly, touching one of the succulent fruits with her hands. "I love pomegranates. They are my favorite fruits."

"They are almost ripe. Maybe in a month or so, you may get to have one for yourself." Hades said. He watched the beautiful, young goddess smell the nearly-ripe pomegranates, and he fell in love with her. He was afraid to tell her what eating the pomegranate of Hell would mean. For every seed eaten, it would mean another month in Hell she would have to stay. Once twelve were consumed, she would have to stay in Hell forever and never be able to leave. There was magick in those fruits. Hades had had more than 12, which made it impossible for him to ever leave his own domain. Few knew of Hell's pomegranate's power, even Hades' demons.

Hades and Persephone did everything together for the next week. Hades made no sexual move towards her, respecting the young goddess's need for time and space. But he was falling in love with her, and he wondered if she felt the same way about him. She made no move to leave, and she never asked. She seemed to be happy, and he enjoyed being around her. Not only was she beautiful, she was full of life and intelligence. She would make the perfect Underworld Queen.

Meanwhile, Demeter was wondering where her Kore was. Since the young goddess had stormed off, she hadn't been able to find her. Demeter began looking for her daughter, but she was growing frustrated. Where could she be? She was starting to grow desperate.

Weeks passed as the pomegranates grew ripe in Hell. One evening, Persephone and Hades were enjoying a couple glasses of apple wine and talking about some of the antics of the gods and goddesses of Olympia.

"Hades, why didn't you join the Olympians?" Persephone asked.

"I wanted to be different. The Olympians consider it to be a badge of honor to be considered one of the twelve. When a seat was offered to me, I turned it down. My home is here; I have no desire to get involved in the politics of Olympus. In many ways, Hermes and I are opposites, but in other ways, we are the same. He tricked the Olympians into letting him have the 12th seat. I turned the position down. We both revolted against the system, but we both broke it. We are both tricksters in our own way. He owes me, and I owe him. For a long time, the 12th seat lay vacant, and there was pressure from Zeus for me to take my place. When Hermes came along, Zeus finally left me alone."

Persephone nodded. "I like Hermes. I have always admired him."

Hades took a drink. "Have you ever considered being his lover?"

Persephone blushed, but saw the serious look on Hades' face. "Perhaps, but I have never been with a man before."

Hades stood up, sitting down at her feet. "Persephone, we have been together for several weeks now. I do not want to pressure you into anything too soon, but I would love to be your first, and maybe your only."

Persephone's heart raced, and she tried to slow her deepening breaths. Hades began massaging Persephone's leg, and a pleasurable thrill shot through her. She wanted more. She bent down to kiss Hades, and his caresses became more bold. "Tonight…" she whispered, and Hades led her to his bedroom chamber.

Demeter was frantic. She was so frantic that she was neglecting her duties. Crops rotted in the fields, and flowers withered. There was no new growth, and people began to starve. Demeter was looking everywhere, and finally, she pleaded with Zeus.

"Where is Kore, Zeus? I can't find her anywhere."

Zeus was intent on polishing one of his many lightning bolts, his favorite pass-time since his ascent to Top God on Olympus. Zeus sighed, stopped in mid-polish, and he put down the lightning bolt. "How should I know? I may have fathered her, but I don't keep track of her." He picked up the bolt again and continued polishing it.

Demeter yanked the bolt out of the god's hands. "This is serious. She has been missing for three weeks. I can't get any work done thinking about her."

"Can't get any work done? What are you talking about, woman?"

Artemis then entered Zeus' chamber, finding it convenient that Demeter was already addressing the subject Artemis had come to talk to the old god about. Behind her, Aphrodite trailed not far behind. "The crops are rotting, and no new flowers are blooming. The earth is dead, Zeus," Artemis added.

"Well, get back to work, then!" Zeus said, waving a hand at Demeter dismissively.

Artemis whacked Zeus on the back of the head with her bow. "You stupid old goat! Demeter can't get any work done while her daughter is missing."

Aphrodite added, "Couples have ceased making love."

"I haven't noticed a thing." Zeus said defensively.

"Well, I have. The animals are also suffering. Not only is nothing growing, there is nothing for the animals to eat. Because you are not doing your job, Demeter can't do hers. And it is messing with all of us." Artemis explained, folding her arms.

"How is this my fault?"

"You are supposed to be the lead god, you lusty old fart." Artemis snapped. "One of the goddesses has been missing. If you were a manager, you'd be fired. I don't think Gaia is thinking too highly of you right now."

Zeus sighed, glaring at Artemis threateningly. "Demeter, do you have any idea where Kore has gone?"

"No, I don't. I have looked everywhere, Zeus. I won't lift a finger to get the crops back until I find her." Demeter sniffed back her tears, but her jaw was set.

"Let me see what I can do." Zeus said, rubbing the back of his head.

Zeus was soon distracted by some beautiful, young nymph as he started his search for Kore. The laughing creature disappeared behind some wilting flowers as Zeus tried to capture her. He almost ran into Hermes.

"Hermes! What are you doing here?" Zeus asked, trying to cover up his slipping composure.

"Trying to find you. Thanks, Joyla." Hermes waved to the nymph, who pranced away, laughing.

Zeus' eyes turned darker. "That was a dirty trick, Hermes. Who sent you? Hera?"

Hermes grinned, ignoring Zeus' seething glare. "Actually, no, for once, although, Joyla was a delicious bait. I have some news for you, and I may be able to help you. I have found Kore."

Zeus immediately changed his attitude. "Found Kore? How did you know she was missing?"

Hermes just looked at Zeus, shaking his head. "Please. I'm the god of communication. I don't miss much. Plus, I have seen the ruin that Demeter's neglect has left behind. She is asking everyone about Kore, so I naturally went looking for her. Zeus, your job depends upon finding this girl. Gaia's pissed, and she isn't angry with Demeter. She is angry at you."

"So? Where is Kore, then?" Zeus asked, getting impatient.

"She is in the Underworld, with Hades."

"That meddling bastard!" Zeus thundered. "Why did he kidnap her? To make me look bad?"

Hermes sighed, wondering internally what Gaia had been smoking when she had decided on giving the position to someone as thick as Zeus. "No, I think they are in love. And I don't think he kidnapped her. Otherwise, she would have tried to escape. And if it is succeeding in making you look bad, I believe it is no more than an accident."

"Well, go get her then." Zeus commanded.

Hermes folded his arms. "Oh, I will. I doubt you could get her back if you went thundering down there to Hades' realm. But, I ask for something in return."

Zeus' face went cardinal red, and the big vein in his forehead throbbed purple. "I won't knock you out of your place as an Olympian if you do!"

"If you did, I'd ask Hades to take my place. I think he would, just to spite you, particularly if you tried to get him to give up his new bride."

Zeus sputtered. "Okay, fine, then let's hear it."

"I want managerial rights to Olympus and the world." Hermes said simply.

"What?"

Hermes rolled his eyes, sighing indulgently. "You are doing a lousy job, Zeus, and unless things improve, Gaia will give your job to someone more competent. As much as I think that is a wonderful idea, that would also upset the whole pantheon. Humans like to think of you as their head god, though I have no idea why. I would like to manage things from now on. That helps both of us. You continue to have your figurehead position, I get the power I deserve, and humans stay happy. Agreed?"

Zeus thought for a minute. "I don't see any other option, if what you say is true. What happens if Gaia catches wind of this?"

"Oh, she won't. No one will. This will be between just you and me. Now, starting with this Persephone slash Hades situation, I will handle it. Go back to chasing your nymphs, and we can return together once I get this mess straightened out."

Zeus could hardly disagree. Hermes wondered how Zeus had managed to become his father. Hermes must have inherited his mother's brains.

Hermes traveled up the River Styx to Hades' realm. It was the only direct way into Hell from the outside world, particularly with no invitation from Hades. And Hermes certainly had none.

Hermes thought of how he would approach Hades with the situation. They had been long-term comrades, partners in crime really, and Hermes had no desire to make an enemy of Hades. While Hermes knew that Persephone would have to be retrieved in order to save the Earth and all of its inhabitants, he wanted to do it in a way that would not anger the God of the Underworld.

Meanwhile the pomegranate tree drooped with the weight of the ripe fruit on its branches. Hades and Persephone went to the Underworld garden that day with the specific intention of consuming some of its fruit. Persephone had been in the Underworld for exactly a month.

Hades was torn on what to do about telling Persephone about Hell's pomegranate's powers. Should he tell her? What if he did? Would she still consume the fruit? Or would she just leave? What if he didn't tell her? She would probably be angry with him that he had kept that secret from her and would hate him forever.

But he loved her, and he was certain that she loved him. If she didn't love him enough and left without taking of the fruit, then he would know for sure that she didn't. He would tell her, leaving the choice in her hands.

"Persephone…" he whispered, pulling her back momentarily to kiss her. She responded in kind, her own caresses becoming bold as he gently pushed her away. She saw his torn look on his face, and she grew concerned.

"Please, my love, sit down." He said.

They sat down on a stone bench. "What is wrong, Hades?"

"There is something I need to tell you, and I just want to tell you that I love you with all of my being, more than anything I have ever loved before in my god's life. I want you to be my Queen, to be co-ruler of the Underworld and all that lives here. Would you be?"

Persephone looked into Hades' eyes, eyes that were so lost and fearful of hurt that she kissed him. "Hades, the past few weeks have been wonderful, and I would be happy to be your Queen. But I will need to go back for just a little bit to mend things with my mother. I am sure she is worried about me, and I just want her to know that I'm okay."

Hades nodded, more or less getting his answer before even asking his question. "I want you to know something about the pomegranates in Hell, before you think of eating of one. For every seed you consume, it will mean one month of confinement to Hell. That is how I keep some of the souls here for an eternity. I myself have eaten more than 12 seeds, which is why I never venture into the world above. If I left, I would cease to be. If you eat 12 of those seeds, you will never be able to leave."

Persephone's mouth opened and closed in shock, removing her hands from Hades' grasp. "You weren't going to tell me, were you?"

Hades felt as if his intestines were being shredded. "Please understand that I love you. I want you to be with me always, but I also wanted to give you the choice. That is why I tell you now. Does this knowledge make you love me any less? I did tell you, didn't I? Please, Persephone…" Hades broke down, and he wondered for a second what the souls in Hell would think of this dark leader pleading and begging a woman like a lovesick boy.

"Hades, give me a pomegranate." Persephone said quietly.

"You do not have to eat it, Persephone. You can go back if you want to, but I can not come with you." Hades whispered.

Persephone got up, picking one of the succulent fruits off of the tree. She broke into it, seeing the ripe red seeds, bursting with color and potential flavor. She was hungry for those seeds, and she wanted to eat the whole thing, the whole fruit, and never go back to the world above again. She knew, deep down, that if she went back, her mother would want her to remain there always. And, Persephone knew that if her mother asked, she would feel compelled to stay and never go back to Hades. She had the power of choice, the power of decision. She could eat the 12 seeds and stay here forever, or she could go back to her old home in the world above, never to see Hades again.

Or she could not eat the seeds and still remain here with Hades for all time, yet she knew of Demeter's power of persuasion. If Persephone ate the seeds, then the decision would be made for her.

So the only decision was this: to eat the seeds, or to not eat the seeds.

Persephone picked out 6 of the ripest seeds, putting the rest of the fruit on the ground. "Hades, I will eat 6 for the 6 months I will remain with you. For the other 6, I will go back to the world above to be with Demeter. For 6 months, you will have your Queen of the Underworld. For 6 months, you will not."

Persephone kissed her lover, soon husband, feeling the love and heat between them. In a way, she was sentencing herself to exile, but in which way? Was this exile? Or was the world above exile? Maybe she was buying herself freedom by eating the 6 seeds. Maybe that was why she was doing it. Never had she imagined herself being Queen of the Underworld, though she had often imagined herself being a Queen of sorts.

Persephone placed one of the seeds on her tongue, kissing Hades passionately as the seed burst between their tongues, erupting in her brain in a kaleidoscope of color and flavor. She felt her body and soul rip one piece away from the world above and what it offered, what it contained. One of her mind's leaves changed color and detached itself from the branches of her psyche, and she reached for another seed.

Five more times she did this, and she felt her soul hang from half a thread. She was half dead, half Hades' prisoner, half Hell's prisoner, half Demeter's prisoner. By being half a prisoner to each, she remained whole to herself, the eternal Maiden, and a surge of power unknown to her before filled her like an ocean. She wasn't Mama's little girl anymore.

Hermes rubbed Cerberus' belly while the three-headed dog groaned in puppy ecstasy. Had anyone else tried to enter Hell uninvited, he or she would have been torn to shreds. But, Hermes and Cerberus were on familiar terms.

"Cerberus, your daddy and I are going to have a little talk. I'll play with you on my way out."

Hermes realized that he had arrived too late for something, though he didn't initially know for what. He saw Hades and Persephone embracing, though he was glad he had not come at a delicate time. Something had happened, and then he saw the broken pomegranate. While he didn't know of the power of the pomegranate (none did except for Hades, and now, Persephone), he immediately assumed that whatever had transpired in the past few minutes had something to do with that broken piece of fruit.

"Hades." Hermes said quietly.

Hades stood up, confusing marking his face. "Hermes. What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"I came to retrieve Persephone, Hades. Her mother is refusing to tend to the crops above, unless she gets her daughter back. It is wrecking havoc on the earth, and people are dying. I'm sorry to ask this of you, Old Friend, but I need to ask her to come back."

Hades and Persephone looked at each other, then at the ground guiltily. "I can't go back." Persephone answered. "I have eaten 6 seeds."

Hermes looked at the broken pomegranate, then back to Persephone. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't follow. What does eating a piece of fruit have to do with you not going back to your mother?"

Persephone stepped forward. "I ate 6 seeds. From this point forward, forever, I must spend 6 months in Hell. I'm sorry my mother is upset, and I will be able to return to her in another 5 months…"

Hermes glared at Hades maliciously. "Hades, what in the name of Gaia did you do to this girl? Feeding her seeds from a magickal pomegranate? What is she talking about she can't go back for another 5 months?"

Persephone stood in front of Hermes. "He offered the fruit, but I made the choice. I love him, and I want to be with him, his Queen. But I also know that my mother misses me, and I want to see her, too. But she will have to wait until I am able to return, and that will not happen again for another 5 months. I have been down here for one month, for one ripe seed. You can tell that to Demeter. I won't be coming back until after my honeymoon with Hades. If she doesn't want the world to grow and produce fruit and harvest, that is her choice."

Hermes stared into Persephone's eyes, stupefied for once in his life. She spoke the truth, and he immediately understood why it had become so vital for him to ask Zeus to let him handle this. This was no girl, no child. This was a woman, a woman who had made her own choice. He could do no more than go up and tell Demeter what her daughter had decided, and when she would return.

Hades stood up, coming to stand by his soon to be wife. "Hermes, Old Friend, I understand your predicament. Trust me that I never intended to hurt anyone. I only wanted to get to know Persephone better. I love her. She has made her choice."

Hermes left, wondering what he was going to do now. He didn't look forward to talking to Demeter, or having to explain to Zeus what had happened.

Demeter was surprisingly calm in spite of the shocking news. "For the next 5 months, nothing will grow on this earth. I will mourn for her. When she returns, life will return again. This will be until the end of time, or whenever the spell can be broken to have Kore returned to me permanently."

"Demeter, she loves him. I don't think she would consent to staying with you on a permanent basis. Hades can't leave Hell. He is its ruler as well as its prisoner. Persephone can only see him if she goes there. Could you reconsider?" Hermes pleaded with Demeter.

"I will not reconsider. The world will be fallow for the next 5 months until her return."

Hermes thought that things could be worse. Persephone could very well have eaten 12 seeds, yet she had not. Six months of growth was better than none at all.

Hades and Persephone were married, and they enjoyed the next 5 months of each others' company without interruption. When their 5 months ended, Persephone left her husband to go back to her mother in the world above.

Demeter hugged and kissed her daughter, tears streaming down both of their faces. They had missed each other, regardless of the fighting, the bickering, and all that had happened. Their tears sparkled in the winter light, and wherever the tears hit the snow, white and yellow flowers sprung up and bloomed. Together, mother and daughter melted the snow, budded the trees, and brought life to the dead earth. All was as it had been.

But Persephone thought of her husband down in the Underworld, and she pined for him. Just as all creatures grow and live to die, so did she long to return to the Underworld, the place of death and darkness. After 6 months of growth, Persephone returned to the Underworld, and Demeter kept with her promise. The earth grew cold and dead, and nothing bloomed, grew, or fruited. When Persephone returned, their reunion tears brought more of the snowbells, daffodils, and other flowers of early spring, and beauty and life once again reigned.

Hermes did continue to manage things to an extent, but when he couldn't think of a better solution to a problem, he consulted Zeus. He guessed that the old, bolt-polishing goat did, every once in awhile, have an intelligent thought. And even though Gaia was highly angered by what happened with Demeter and Persephone, she let Zeus continue to rule. After all, there was still 6 months of growth on the earth, and that was better than none at all.

Did Hades remain loyal to Persephone? Well, compared to his Olympian brothers, he did. Did Persephone remain loyal to Hades? Certainly not. Only a few years passed before she and Hermes had a torrid affair, leaving Hades and Hermes very angry at each other for a time. But Hermes was a trickster, and Persephone was an independent woman, and, well, wouldn't you think being with the God of the Underworld might get a little dull?

Every year, we walk the earth, waiting for Persephone's return, when she and her mother would reunite to have the world grow and be fruitful again. And where their tears of joy fall, flowers bloom, flowers that bloom through the cold snows of winter.

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The Mechanical Cat

Notorious Valandameyer was a cat. He was a 22-year-old medium-hair with green eyes and a slightly lame left hind leg. His fur was silvery white, interspersed with the occasional black hair due to his advanced age. He had been born a normal kitten, was declawed before his six-month birthday and narrowly escaped being fixed when he was only six weeks old. Surprisingly, his hearing had never dulled, and his eyesight was still equal to the much young members of his species. In many ways, he was a very normal cat.

In other ways, not.

When Notorious was 3, his owner, an old woman with five other cats, all younger than Notorious, died in her sleep. The only surviving relative of the old woman was her grandson who was also a scientist. He could not support six cats, nor did he really need that many. All he really needed was one, and since the other five were little more than kittens, he kept Notorious.

Notice I said "need."

Notorious would become the luckiest and unluckiest cat on earth in the next few years. Buddy Valandameyer was doing experiments to increase the intelligence of certain animals. He kept monkeys, birds, rodents of all kinds, dogs, and now, a white, green-eyed cat.

To call Buddy "mad" would have insulted the genius of what he accomplished, but to make a man out of a cat was indeed very mad, particularly to the mind of a cat. Did he really improve Notorious? Or did he diminish the feline by making him infinitely more human by "increasing his powers of intellect?"

For Notorious was never the same after the implant that changed him from a happy, playful cat into the cat-ragious cat-genius that he became. He no longer immersed himself for hours watching a stray leaf being blown by the wind outside. Cat toys bored him, and he now understood why eating house plants could make him sick. Instead, he was a reader, a math wiz, and he could understand quantum physics better than the vast majority of humans.

Oddly, it made Buddy scratch his head. He had only designed Notorious to have the intelligence of an average human, not a cat-nomenal Einstein.

But that is exactly what Notorious had become. While the monkeys in the lab were tinkering with puzzles only an eight-year old would find challenging, Notorious was finding the flaws in laws "known" by physicists.

Now, I'm sure you are asking yourselves, "How did Buddy know this cat could do all of these things? A cat still can't type, or speak for that matter."

Ah, but if someone or something can read, he or she can type. It wasn't long before Notorious was punching computer keys with his clawless paws, typing in his theories and telling Buddy just how wrong he had gone about making animals as intelligent as people.

He wrote, "Those apes have their own logic, their own method for discovering their world. You have turned it upside down by giving them the intellect of a human. Before, they could have figured out that simple puzzle given time, but you have deprived them of ever realizing their full potential by ripping away their old selves and turning them into something that they are not."

Buddy glared at the feline, who swished his bushy tail in typical feline thoughtful repose. "Then, why did you become so much more intelligent, then? Didn't I turn your world upside down? Didn't I give you the intellect of a human? Didn't I take away your full potential?"

Notorious sat on his haunches, cocking his head to one side, wondering to himself if this human was worth the answer, or would even understand the answer if told to him. Notorious yawned, jumping down. Yes, it was time for a bite to eat.

Buddy scratched his head again. What was going on in that cat-mind of his?

Buddy eventually gave up on the other animals, instead concentrating on the cat. When Notorious was 6, three years after his adoption of Buddy and two after having received the technology to increase his cat intelligence, Buddy fitted Notorious with a voice simulator. At first, Notorious hated it, insisting that it never reflected his inflections, his emotions, and his true meaning, only his internal words. Buddy modified the device, letting Notorious vary the inflection of the voice.

Notorious had a very stuffy British accent, and of an older gentlemen as well. Somehow, it really seemed to fit him.

Notorious continued to live and work with Buddy, and together, they came up with amazing theories that both baffled and stirred the scientific community. It did not, however, give them the fame that they well deserved. Instead, they were laughed at, scorned, were never taken seriously for any of their theories again.

And all of this was without anyone knowing that most of those theories came from the cat-nonmenal Notorious.

But Buddy knew that Notorious' theories were sound. They did make a lot of sense to quite a few of the scientists in the field, but they were unorthodox, and if there was one thing that scientists hated, it was being proven that they may very well be wrong.

Years went by, and Notorious got older. Buddy was still a fairly young man, but he knew that Notorious would not live forever. This worried him, and it depressed him. What was the whole point of intelligence if the life expectancy of the possessor of that intelligence would only be for a brief span of 15 years?

Notorious was 12, an aging cat and no longer in his prime. He slept more, and he had a tougher time getting around. He spent more time thinking, contemplating, knowing like no other cat knew that his time was coming to a close. One day, Notorious ran to Buddy, yowling to get the man's attention.

"Buddy, I know now why you can't let cats know this kind of intelligence."

"Notorious, why is that?"

"Because I am going to die. Cats are not aware of their own potential for death. If that is the gift you have given me by making me more human, then I would gladly give up everything I have learned and known to be a normal cat again. I could grow old in peace, watching the leaves fall outside, playing with cat toys, and purring when I get stroked or petted. Do you remember the last time I purred, Buddy?"

Buddy felt himself tear up, suddenly hating himself for having done this to Notorious. Fifteen years - that was all Notorious had on this earth. And the worst part was, Notorious was aware of it. He knew that he was going to die.

"Notorious, I think I may have a way to make you live longer. It is a little bit out of my field, but I think it may work."

So, Buddy went about making Notorious live longer. By means that no cat except Notorious and almost no humans except Buddy would understand, Buddy was able to extend Notorious' life. By how long, neither of them knew, but Notorious' aging process did begin to slow, and Notorious no longer thought of dying for the time being.

At 13 years, he had ceased aging. Nine years later, he still looked the same. A few new black hairs had invaded his winter-white coat, and an accident that lamed his leg healed no better than it would have, but it appeared that Notorious would live a great deal longer than his feline life span of 15 years.

And, to date, he had. At 22, Notorious was still in remarkable health.

Some years passed, and Buddy was growing old himself. He was in his late fifties, had never been married, instead married to his work, and to a certain degree and kind, to Notorious.

One evening, as both read and lounged by the fire, Notorious got up, stretched, and pawed Buddy's leg.

"Yes, Notorious."

"Buddy, you really need to get married. Have you ever thought of having a family?"

"No, Notorious. I've been too caught up in my work."

"Well, I think that you should. Even for a human, your life is too short to be worrying over me, science, or what is contained in these books. Have you ever thought of the pleasures of life? Of the joys? Of just watching the leaves outside and trying to chase them with your eyes?"

"Actually, no, I haven't, Notorious. My pleasure and joy is by discovering new scientific theories, by growing and learning with you, and by learning, constantly learning."

"Well, I think I'm going to close this book tonight and go watch some leaves fall. You know, Buddy, I can still be a cat, even now, even with what I know. I can still just let myself enjoy what I have, the simple, the very simple, things in life that have been given to me by whatever creator we have defined. I'm 34 years old. I have lived more than 2 cat lifetimes. Maybe I may really be granted nine lives. Either way, all of my intelligence, all of my knowing, all of my studying, has not lead to my happiness as a cat. Buddy, I'm going to leave pretty soon. Maybe I can find some queen to be happy with for a time. Maybe I can chase a mole under a blanket of leaves, eat some grass, and let my senses no human will ever possess feel, taste, and experience the world. Go and find a woman to be happy with, Buddy. We might as well enjoy what life we have left."

And Notorious exited the cat door in the front door. Buddy never looked for him, and Notorious never returned.

Buddy retired early two years later, leaving the scientific world behind and instead spending his weekends at the local bowling alley. He was a horrible bowler, but it made very little difference. There, he met a woman 15 years young than him. Fifteen cat years younger, and they began to date. A year later, they were married.

One evening after dinner, Buddy and his wife were walking home one evening when Buddy saw a white cat with a limp with a beautiful calico. They acknowledged each other, nodded, and walked on.

Buddy and Notorious were happy.

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The Green Man

Every time I go to sleep at night, I feel Him with me in my dreams. He speaks so softly I can hardly hear Him, but His wide smile and alluring eyes entice me and hold me to Him like a tether. I cannot resist Him. I do not want to resist Him. He is all men and no man.

His curly brown beard has oak leaves in it, interwoven as if they belonged there -- belonged to Him. His skin is green, the color of summer leaves, and His eyes are a rich, dark brown like the color of chestnuts. His body is a well-muscled work of art without an ounce of fat. And His hands… His hands. They are things of magick, wondrous things that are designed to give a woman pleasure. And that they do.

If I run my hands through His leaf-decorated hair, I can feel two small horns coming from the top of His head. Sometimes He comes to me as half-goat, though never when we make love. He is all man then, except for the horns.

His soft body hair is the same color as His hair and beard -- a soft, warm brown color. I like to run my hands through the hair on His chest and smell His scent. He smells of woods, plants, and masculinity. I could get high off of His smell. I sometimes do.

If you as a woman have never experienced Him, you have never truly loved a man. He knows women, loves women. His body is of the earth, His mind of the Goddess. Perhaps that is how He knows women so well, because He is lover, brother, father, and son to the Goddess. He is Her consort as well as offspring. He is of Her, Her own perfect creation. That is why He knows women. Women are sacred beings to Him, and He always makes me feel I am beautiful.

I sometimes close my eyes at night, thinking of Him. I am in love with Him, just as every woman is in love with Him, yet He is not a womanizer in the sense that He takes women for granted. No. It is as much an honor, maybe more so, for Him to be with a woman as it is for her to be with Him. Women are precious creations to Him, as He thinks of us as His children as well as lovers. He is the protective Father, the dependant Son, and the intense Lover.

Come to me tonight, Green Man. Come by my side and love the spirit of me as You are. Come and be One with me.

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The Sacred Wound

We all have our wounds. Sometimes we wear them to the outside world, to be shared with others, to inflict upon others, to rape the psyche of others. We also have the wounds that we hide, sometimes even hiding from ourselves. Our wounds can be psychological, the cause brought on by some non-physical trauma or some treatment or lack of treatment from others, family or otherwise. And, of course, our wounds can be physical. I don't believe that wounds that are physical are entirely and only physical, particularly the long-term ones. The ones that come back. The ones that never go away.

But all of these wounds have one thing in common - they are sacred wounds. Sacred wounds run deep, they run forever, and they are so integrated into who and what we are that they are almost impossible to separate from us. They change us, transform us, and sometimes might even kill us. They are not a cut on the thumb, or a simple bad day at work. They are thousands of scars built up one on top of the other. They are layered, multi-faceted, and they are hurts that our vulnerable areas. To have someone punch such a wound can make the most stoic of us cry.

First, I will tell you a story. It is the story of Chiron, the centaur. It took place in ancient Greece, among the gods and goddesses of Olympus. Chiron, the wounded healer. Chiron, the teacher, the warrior, and the one who healed with his hands. He was a tutor of Hercules, and Hercules asked Chiron to make him a weapon made to kill a mystical beast. Chiron made an arrow tipped with the blood of Medusa, and it was death to anything mortal. Hercules shot the arrow and accidentally wounded Chiron. He didn't mean it, but the damage was already done. Chiron couldn't die, but he couldn't escape from the wound, either. He was in agony, but he was also immortal. He would suffer this wound forever.

Chiron had a choice. He could have retreated in pain, blaming Hercules, blaming Medusa for her blood, blaming the tree that gave the wood to make the arrow shaft, or the bird that provided the feathers so the arrow would remain true to course. He could have blamed his fate as an immortal, or the gods for making him that way. He could have even blamed himself for making the arrow flawed and thus resulting in his injury. Instead, however, Chiron used his grief for good. He began to study poisons, wounds, antidotes, and even diseases. He tried desperately to find a cure for himself, but instead, he did something much more remarkable.

In his quest for the cure, he found cures for diseases, poisons, and ailments of both mortal and immortal alike. He became one of the greatest of healers. But he never did find a cure to his wound.

Prometheus had been punished for giving humanity fire, and his curse was to remain tied to the side of a cliff while a vulture came by, day after day, to eat his liver. At night, his liver would grow back, and the suffering would occur again.

Chiron made a deal with the gods. "Set Prometheus free. In return, let me die." Prometheus was set free, and Chiron's physical body died, freeing him of his wound.

Chiron went through several transformations caused by his wound. What would his life have been like had he never been wounded? He would have never set out to find the cure, would never have found the cures to help others, and Prometheus would still be suffering on the side of that cliff.

We are all possessors of a sacred wound, just like Chiron. Like him, we also have a choice in how we choose to use that wound. We can blame, we can mourn. It is okay to mourn. Chiron mourned the loss of his ability to do that which he had always been capable of doing. He could no longer be a warrior with his wound. He was a cripple. However, he used that emotion caused by his pain to spur him into action.

I have a sacred wound. It will also never go away and afflict me for the rest of my life. This one, like Chiron's, is also physical. And, like Chiron's, it has and will affect my life forever. Like Chiron, there is no cure, but I do have a choice. I can let it beat me. I can let it take over my life and destroy me, or I can use it for positive transformation. I can use it to help others. Ultimately, that can help myself.

I understand Chiron. I understand his agony, his pain, what he went through. I have been there, and I am there. Others like me suffer the same wound, and they also have a choice. Some have let it eat them up inside. Their mourning takes on a flavor of bitterness and hatred. Mourning is okay, but mourning was never meant to last a lifetime.

Chiron probably asked himself, "Why me?" I ask myself the same question. I sometimes cry myself to sleep at night, wondering why I was supposed to shoulder such a load. Maybe it is as random as the wind. Maybe the wind shifted because a deer sneezed ten miles away, and the arrow turned. Maybe Chiron placed the feathers wrong, giving the arrow a more curved aim. Was it his fault? He didn't ask for the wound. It just came to him. He did nothing to promote the wound. What if he had refused to make the arrow for Hercules? Was loving a pupil and wanting to do something for him such a crime?

We can all learn from Chiron, no matter what kind of wound we have. Shelter your wounds, realize them, and know that they are a part of you, for better or for worse. See how those wounds transform you. What would your life be like without them? Would your life be better? Are you sure it would be better? Sometimes our wounds have a way of letting us see things we would never have seen before.

Sometimes our wounds are the greatest of teachers. They lead us onto paths we would never have chosen to take on our own. These paths are the crossroads of Hecate, the old witch Goddess of the moon. She asks us, which path do you choose? Sometimes when we are wounded, one path may seem more attractive than the others. Sometimes, it is that very wound that decides for us.

Our paths might be dark, they may lead to physical death. We may look back at the path we were forced to leave and mourn that the decision was taken away. We may ignore the road ahead, forever saddened by our losses and not seeing the gifts in front of us. Chiron's sacred wound has come to me, and I'm slowly realizing its divine gift.

I have a lot to learn. I must work with my sacred wound, try to understand it even when it is at its most painful. It is a curse as well as a blessing, but it is not a punishment. Punishments have no cause, no meaning behind them. Our sacred wounds always do, for that is their nature.

Open your senses to Chiron, open your mind to Hecate's crossroads, and feel your sacred wound. Know that you are not alone, and that even wounds can bring you joy.

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The Age of the Daughter

She was dying.

Of that, it was painfully obvious. Her breath had become shallow, her skin a winter-cloud shade of gray, and her eyes sunken in like pits in a seeded peach. Willow and her sisters gathered around their grandmother, their matriarch, silently watching and not knowing when the moment would come. Their faces were dark under the insufficient light of a flickering candle flame, and no one spoke a word. An occasional cough or sniff would break the silence, companied by the rasping, labored breath of the dying grandmother.

A movement from the dying woman made them all stand to attention and focus their liquid gazes sharply in her direction. The old woman raised a finger from her deeply veined hand, "Willow" she said, a sound that sounded more like a cough than a name. Willow and her sisters looked at each other, before all rested then on Willow. Willow swallowed, knowing what her name being spoken would mean. Willow hardly breathed. As if on cue, the other sisters shuffled from where they stood, each making their way out of the room.

"Yes, Grandmother." Willow said, her voice seeming to be a roar in the silent room. Willow was an extraordinarily pretty girl of only 18 summers, young but still a full-fledged adult member of her community. Her long, black hair lay around her shoulders loosely, and she had swarthy features like most members of her clan.

"Willow, I have something to tell you, my granddaughter. It is very important, and we don't have much time." The grandmother's voice was almost a whisper, yet there was an urgency there as well.

Willow swallowed hard, forcing her voice to steady. She wasn't sure if she could speak without breaking down. No, this old woman had been more than just a matriarch or a grandmother. She had been a great teacher, a good friend, and a mother to them all. And of all of her sisters, of all of her aunts and friends, the old woman had chosen to use her last hours of breath on Willow.

"Yes, Grandmother. Anything."

The grandmother waved her hand in mild frustration. "No, nothing like that, child. Not for me. For you, and for everyone. This is something very important, and it is a premonition. It is for what is yet to come, what will be, and how all of you need to deal with it when it comes. I had a dream the other night. Actually, many dreams, for as I lie here, dreams seem to come to me one right after another. They merge and change with reality, but I can always tell the difference. Oh, yes, memories and my own reality are far different from what I dream of. For I have lived a very blessed life and have had happiness and longevity more than anyone could ever have hoped for. These dreams show a far different reality, and I am sure it is in the future, for I have seen things that should never exist in this world. I have seen things that may never be for many hundreds and maybe even hundreds of thousands of full moons."

The effort of this short speech seemed to have taxed the grandmother, for she began coughing uncontrollably, and Willow raced to get her some water to ease the racking cough. The grandmother took a sip, her breath quieting down yet still strained from the growing amount of fluid in her lungs. She was slowly drowning.

Willow looked worried at the grandmother. "Grandmother, you shouldn't strain yourself. Please, don't go on unless you have to."

The grandmother looked sharply at Willow, and Willow blushed red as she stared at the ground. Some of the old authority had snapped back into the old woman, and Willow knew better than to question the old one's penetrative stare.

"I do have to, and you will listen, child. And you will remember, for I can only say this once." The grandmother said with demanding sharpness.

"Yes, Grandmother." Willow said quietly.

The grandmother lay back again, her eyes taking on a far-away look of reminiscence or recollection of a difficult to remember dream. The grandmother smiled, then frowned. "Willow, I have told you once before that this is the age of the Mother."

Willow looked up at her grandmother, surprised. "Of course, Grandmother. How could I forget? It has been a lesson you have taught us all since we were very young."

"There is much more to it than that, though. There are four ages for you to be aware of, and the age of the Mother will not last forever. However, blessedly for you and your children, it will not happen during your lives. I can't say the same for the generations following you.

"We have lived in a very fortunate time, Willow. Men and women are equals, and I have enjoyed the authority granted by my many years on this earth. And, since I know you will also live a long and prosperous life full of the same kind of wisdom, I am choosing you in which to pass this wisdom on. And so will you when you are dying in your bed many years from now. Enjoy your life, Willow, for you will be one of the last women on earth to enjoy such a wonderful fate. At least, for a long time yet.

"But this is the age of the Mother. When men and women are equals, and women as well as men enjoy leadership as well as respect in every clan. We are seen as the givers of life, and men as the protectors of both life and mothers. But we share, we give to each other, we are different yet both needed.

"But that will end some day, some day in the not too distant future. There are four ages, Willow, and you must pass that wisdom on. This is the age of the Mother, but following will be the age of the Father.

"But this Father will not be a father as we know them. He will not be a gentle father, or one who is willing to allow the Mother to also reign by his side. No. He will be a demanding father, full of desire to conquer and keep for himself. That includes women as well. Women will become second class citizens, property of men. Men will become mere shadows of what they are today. War will rule the land, and those who follow the Mother will be destroyed. There is no stopping it. Brute force, in the end, will always obfuscate peace."

Willow's mouth was open in shock, horror of a kind she had never experienced rushing through her mind and body. This was a nightmare of a future. Was this all they had to look forward to? Willow and her children would still enjoy a life of equality and peace, but what did her granddaughters have to look forward? Slavery? War? As property with no rights?

"But I have also seen beyond this, Willow." The grandmother's voice had become softer and almost a whisper. "For beyond the age of the Father comes a much gentler age. It will be the age of the Son. A prophet will come to moderate the Father, and peace will come again to the lands. But, the Father will still rule over the Son, as often is the case, and we will never be completely rid of the Father, but even the worst brute of a Father will always be softened by the love he has for a Son.

"I can not tell you how long these ages will last, but the last age before going back to the Mother will be the age of the Daughter. She will pave the way for the age of the Mother, and with the Son, she will bring peace, tolerance, and love to the land once again. With the Son, she will see to it that men and women are equal again, and she will soften the heart of the Father even more. The Father will retreat forever, and sister and brother, they will set the stage for the Mother once again. Just as the Son came in the form of a male prophet, so will the Daughter come in the form of a female prophet. And her message will reunite the world.

"But the age of the Father first. We live in the West, and far, far, far to the East, there are also followers of the Mother like us. But, in the North and Center lie a race of peoples who are beginning to doubt the power of the Mother. They are organizing, planning, and building a world for themselves and for the Father. They are dominating the women, the mothers, grandmothers, and daughters. They are rejecting the land, the animals, and the ways our ancient ancestors practiced before time began. Soon, they will begin to move west and east, and they will soon control all of those lands. Your granddaughters, my great-great granddaughters, they will know slavery and fear at the hands of these brute men. They will be raped and punished for what they are by birth, and they will be made to feel shame for who and what they are.

"The age of the Father will be a dark time, for men and women alike, though many won't realize it when it comes. People will come closer together, in larger units than we live in. They will make crops grow where they tell them. They will keep animals in places and kill them without hunting them. The population of the world will grow under this age, but at what cost? Misery will follow.

"Then a son will be born to a woman who follows the Old Ways. But, no one will know that she follows the Old Ways. For those who believe in the Father will say that he was born of the Father, not the Mother. From this Mother-born Son, a semblance of peace will prevail. His Old Ways mother will be forgotten as a child of the Old Ways except in spirit. Her image will come into the huts and caves of the Father, and no matter how the Father tries, he will not be able to get rid of her.

"This Son will strengthen the religion of the Father, though, and the Father will still reign strong even under the Son. But, after a few thousand seasons, the Son will soon grow to manhood and become the strong Son. He will make the Father see that men and women are equal. He will pave the way for the Daughter to be born.

"I see a time, many, many, many years from now. The world will be made of tall huts that reach to the stars. The huts will be like the lakes, but they will be solid like ice. There will be animals in colors we have never seen animals be, and they will move very fast. People will ride them over paths made of black rock, moving quickly from place to place. It will be so crowded, people living in the huts that reach to the stars, wearing animals skins of colors no animal has ever been in. Perhaps they, too, harvest those animals for clothing as well as riding them.

"And the huts the people will worship the Father and Son in! They couldn't worship on the land, outside. They need huts, huts with slabs of rock to sit on. And something that looks like a crossed piece of wood hanging on the wall. Willow, the ice will be colored and in the shape of people decorating the hut walls. And the Son will be on the crossed piece of wood, hanging as if dead.

"So this is how the Father will keep the Son under his control. By hanging him, keeping him barely alive. Yet, the people will still know. They'll still believe more strongly in the Son.

"And, then, there will be us, the last followers of the Mother. We will still live on, for not even the most brutish Father or most down-trodden Son can ever break the spirit of the Mother. She will live in us, Willow. The Mother is the only one who can give birth to the Daughter. And, indeed, it was only she who gave birth to the Son. Her followers will still worship in the proper way. Outside, in nature, under her trees. They will be like us, equals both men and women, but they will live within the large canopy of the Father. But, they'll be strong, stronger than they will believe they are, and they will be the great pavers for the Daughter. They will prepare the land for the Daughter to walk upon, so that the Daughter can then prepare the land once again for the Mother.

"This Daughter, with the Son, will overpower the Father once and for all. Together, they will rule together for a time, side by side, as equals, as two separate ways of beliefs. The religion of the Son will never die, for at its core, it is still a religion of freedom, equality, and joy, but it will remove the Father entirely. The Daughter will also rule as his equal in power, and together, they will forge a world of tolerance and love. And from their joint rule, the Mother will once again emerge from her hiding place, and the three of them will bring peace and equality to the world again."

The grandmother began coughing again, and the fluid caught in her lungs. Willow knew that the grandmother didn't have much time. Was this just the ramblings of an old woman? Or was their some truth to what she said? Willow reached under the old woman's head to lift it up enough so that she could take a drink. "You should rest, grandmother. You are not well enough to do this much talking."

The grandmother sputtered on the water, furious. "No!! You must listen, child. These are not just idle ramblings. I know them to be true. I may be old. I may be dying, but I still am High Priestess here. Listen to me. I must tell you what to do, how to deal with the dark times to come, for they will be the only ways to bring hope to women when they only have to look forward to slavery and despair."

Willow stepped back, letting the old woman clutch the cup of water in her corded hand with a force that would snap a bone. The grandmother had a fierce look in her eye, and Willow looked at the floor in shame. "I'm sorry, grandmother. Please, go on. I will listen to you, as I always have."

The grandmother touched Willow's hand, a gentle touch that made Willow look back up into her grandmother's kind, loving eyes. "Willow, you must listen very carefully now, for your children's children will depend up on it. When the Father comes, they must remain strong. They must hold onto the Mother, for it is she who will grant them hope and strength. They must know that even though their lives may be hard, there is a world after this one where they will become young again to return once again. They will contain within each of them, even if they forget what they have been told by their grandmothers, the knowledge that they should always honor the Mother and understand that she will return. She will always return."

The grandmother lay back down in the pillows of straw, her eyes taking a far-away look again. "Willow, I will die soon. I love you with all my heart and being, and I have chosen you above all of the other granddaughters to hear what I have said tonight. Tell your own granddaughter this story, for it will be she who will come into contact with the followers of the Father first, and she will need to know how to remain strong even under their rule. I fear for them, our descendents, and I am sorry that I will not be able to warn them myself. Willow, enjoy your life, for you are one of the last."

As if the grandmother had been waiting for this moment for all of her life rather than the past few months she had been getting sicker and sicker, she reached for her granddaughter's hand one last time. Willow took it, feeling the icy coldness of death starting to creep in. Willow held onto it, watching her grandmother lie back as if in sleep, close her eyes for the last time, and let the life she had held onto for so many years leave her.

Willow walked out of the hut where her grandmother had died, seeing the faces of her mother, aunts, and sisters look into her own. They knew, without Willow saying anything, that the old matriarch had died. Willow looked just beyond them to her father, her brothers, and her uncles, and they began sobbing, their deep voices mingling with the women's.

Willow stood perfectly still for a few moments, her face cold and stony while everyone cried in mourning. She would be the bearer of these words of doom to her granddaughter, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Except for one thing - prepare them for what would come.

BACK TO THE TOP

Midsummer Magick

It was dusk, the light slowly fading as the pumpkin sun dipped slowly behind the trees into a swirl of blue, fuchsia, gold, and orange. In the middle of a circular clearing in the middle of an expanse of woods, fireflies twinkled, tiny little lanterns winking in and out of visibility. A wind sighed. The scent of summer flowers, grass, and moisture recently baked from the Midsummer sun mingling with the slow cooling of the impending night. Birds quieted as they made their beds for the evening, and the sounds of night insects began to increase in volume. Somewhere, an owl hooted. To the outside world, this place and its inhabitants were making preparations for the night, but, to those who looked for more than just the obvious, there were other inhabitants making preparations for a celebration.

The trees rustled, and the fireflies blinked their Morse code of seemingly random blinks and sweeps at a more rapid pace. Somewhere, a fiddle, barely audible, mixed with the rich sounds of the crickets, frogs, cicadas, and katydids. In the middle of the clearing, bright, colorful movement appeared in the tall grass and disappeared again. The faint, tinkling, bubbly laughter added to the fiddle, and then, drums were added in.

A swirl of fireflies came together, blinking in unison as they converged in the center of the clearing. They formed a wide, flat, horizontal disk, and as if on cue, broke away as one mini bonfire burst in a whoosh and a pop in the center of the ground. The fiddle and drums were now joined by other sounds - wind instruments, clacking wood, pan flutes, and a number of other miscellaneous sounds that seemed to come from no musical pieces ever conceived by a mortal. The grass swirled with a rainbow of light and gossamer fabric as small, smiling pale faces peeked mischieviously from the high grass. The celestial band played louder, forming a unified sound that complemented the choir of their six legged friends.

With successive POPS, tiny, one-foot long wooden and stone tables appeared through the green-gold waving grass. With a particularly loud POP, a higher one appeared, and on it was what appeared to be a little man.

His face was one, big smile filled with natural smile-lines. His bright red beard covered his pot belly and went down to his knees. His feet were bare, and he appeared naked behind the red curtain of his beard. His fingers were long and knobby, and iridescent, blue-gold butterfly wings fluttered back and forth as he hovered an inch or so above the rock. His eyes were brilliant blue. Beside him, a second figured appeared, one much more lovely and much less comical in appearance than he. Her face also smiled broadly, and she, too, was naked. Her wide, green eyes seemed to take up half of her heart-shaped face, and her long, silvery-blonde hair draped perfectly over naked breasts. Her skin was the color of magnolias, and her butterfly wings were a translucent pinkish-white. She landed on feet too small even for her tiny form, and she flipped her hair, exposing a pink nipple and pointed, fawn-like ears.

Both held up their hands to momentarily pause the growing celebration. The female fairy spoke, her voice tiny and extremely high-pitched. Had anyone come upon the scene, they might have thought they heard only a tiny bird.

"Come, ye, all those of us of the Fae. Tonight we celebrate a time when the veil between the worlds is thin again,wthen mortals may join us in love and mirth as the Sun God reaches His peek for the year. Tomorrow, the day will be moments shorter as we prepare for the colors and gifts of the Harvest. But, tonight, we celebrate all of the work we've done for the past few moons as we've taken off the shroud of Winter, painted the lands with the colors of Spring, decorated the trees with leaves, and made way for the maturity of Summer. Tonight is OUR night, fellow Fae, and we celebrate it with music, dancing, love-making, and feasting!"

The beautiful fairy twirled in the air with a swirl of twinkling lights as a cheer erupted from the unseen crowd in the grass. Drums rolled, and a cacophony of various odd instruments clambered to be heard above each other. The red-haired male fairy held up his hands, for he wanted to say something as well, and he cleared his throat before speaking in a loud, clear, tinny and gravely voice.

"The magick of Midsummer is upon us, and we can expect some mortals to join us in these woods over the next few days while we celebrate. Offer them food if they wish to stay with us for some time…" He winked with mischief, and a tinkling of laughter filled the grasses in random waves. "But, let them enjoy the magick and mystery of our world as they see fit. Perhaps they, too, will leave us a bit of food and gifts. It is good we still have mortals in this world who believe in us, and in return, we will honor and help them."

The female fairy stepped forward again as the male fairy held her hand. "My name is Flaisia, and this is Goradono. Now, please welcome the Yorka Mokal Faery Frog Band from the Bogs of Culundo!"

Flaisia and Goradono flew away in a swirl that was almost impossible to follow. With a myriad of odd instruments made of reeds, grass, stones, and other plant parts, the Yorka Mokal Faery Frog Band from the Bogs of Culundo set up quickly onto the stone stage. A single, haunting fiddle hushed the woods as one long, lanky male fairy moved with the music he created.

Slowly, on cue, other bizarre instruments joined him, living extensions of their fairy players. The slow music took on a life of its own like a heartbeat or the flow of blood through veins. It was the beat of life, a sound those of the fairies were all too familiar with. They had created that beat, and they played it every year, every Spring, and throughout all of the changes of the seasons. They played it in the first frost of Winter, creating the ice and snow that covered the dead earth like a blanket of fairy dust. They played it when the snows melted and the world stirred, calling upon the flowers of Spring to emerge and color the earth. The played that same song as the world grew green and blossomed, and that song didn't change during the hot, sultry days of Summertime, when everything was preparing for the Harvest. When pumpkins, apples, grapes, gourds, pomegranates, and acorns hung heavily on their branches and vines, that song still played on, and it was cut short on the night of Samhain when the veil between worlds grew thin again, this time to let in the spirits of the departed souls of mortals.

Fairies of all shapes, sizes, colors, and beauty swirled and danced in the sky as the song changed tempo from slow to a more alluring, faster beat. Females and males kissed, the buzzing of wings and giggling contrasting with the more steady music of the band. Food made of milk, fruit, and bread was carried and consumed by the fairy partiers, and what was conspicuously missing was any kind of meat. Fairies did not consume the flesh of any animal.

A bluish-pink glow surrounded the entire clearing as the Fairies enjoyed their merrymaking, their one time out of the year when they could really, truly and with no responsibility enjoy the land they had worked on to paint, grow, and decorate. Their job was never completed, but to them, it was no job. It was play to them, and the nights of Midsummer were a time to enjoy that play to its fullest. At this time of year, Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter fairies danced, feasted, and made love on their land, all rejoicing in life, in nature.

Would any human come upon this celebration? At Beltane, the fairies also had a celebration in these fields, becoming giggling, voyeuristic watchers of the lovemaking and pleasures shared between mortals as they lay in the fields conjuring Summer-in. But, the fairies still made the lilies bloom and the rains come, and more than once, a fairy had been responsible for one of those couples becoming fertile with new life. Oh, the mortals could use their contraceptive devices (those "sperm-stopper things" as they called them), but they could never truly get past the full force of Life. Fairies were the Owners of Life, and they could wield and control it at will. More than one fairy had ripped a purposeful hole in a mortal's plans for stopping an unwanted pregnancy.

But, on Midsummer, the celebration was different, much less intent on fertility but more intent on celebration and mischief-making. On such nights, a mortal might stumble upon such a one as was being played out in the middle of this grassy field surrounded by forest. A non-believer would see nothing, only a passing wind and the erratic blinking of fireflies. A sensitive might see a shadow of what was going and want to join in unknowingly, and such a sensitive might stumble across a cake left by a fairy. If they ate such a cake, they might be pulled into the celebration for a length of time from seven days to seven years. Some had even been gone longer than that. A true believer might feel everything and feel the pull of the Fairyland like a magnet, but hopefully (for the mortal's sake anyway) know to avoid eating of the fairy food (an act which would tie them to the fairy world for an unknown length of time). Such a person would be truly blessed by the magick they'd witness and help create.

The sky darkened, and the party of the Fairies continued at the same, heartbeat pace. Some of the fairies disappeared into the woods, trying to draw in any unsuspecting human happening in the woods at this time.

Viviato and Lioodia were two young female fairies who laughed and kissed as they tumbled and flew into the woods, their glowing, translucent bodies like snippets of light as they whizzed over the forest floor. Suddenly, Lioodia halted, nudging and pointing to her friend as they hushed each other's giggles. There, in a small clearing canopied by the black ceiling of trees, was a small circle of mortals. The two fairies joined hands and ceased their snickering, letting their heads fall in reverence for the ritual being created in front of them.

There were 6 mortals, and the two fairies had come upon the casting of the circle. Visible only to the fairies and those in the circle was a blue haze of light surrounding the 6 mortals as they held hands and stood perfectly still, inhaling the night air.

The six mortals were all in "street" clothes, jeans, shorts, t-shirts, and tennis shoes, except for one young red-headed woman who wore a long, gossamer, orange and gold dress that waved in the wind. The fairies trembled in joy and energy as the woman lifted a wooden wand to the night air.

"Caller to the East." She said, as the group faced East in unison.

An older man with graying hair lit some incense with a match, and the two fairies could smell the sweet smell of frankincense reach their noses. He held up his arms high in the air. "Spirits of East, element of Air, direction of new beginnings, of Spring, the morning sunrise, and our thoughts, inspiration, and the mind. Tonight is Midsummer, when the Sun King is at his strongest and brightest. We welcome you in to this circle tonight. Blessed be!"

The red-headed woman lifted the wooden wand again, saying, "Caller to the South."

A blonde woman lit a red candle, its flickering light like the fireflies that pierced the retreating darkness deep into the woods. "Spirits of South, element of Fire, direction of the Summer sun, of our passions, our lust, our joy, and our courage. You are the bonfire we leap over at this time to protect us in the coming year. You are the candle flame that lights our way in the darkness. Tonight, you are strongest. We welcome you in to this circle. So mote it be!"

Once again, the redhead said, "Caller to the West."

A young man dressed in blue held up a sea shell full of water high into the sky. "Spirits of the West, element of Water, direction of our emotions, of the setting sun, and of Autumn time. You are the broad ocean, the womb of the mother, and you are the gentle, babbling stream. You are the waters of the Goddess, the one who is Mother at this time of year. Hail and welcome, Water!"

"Caller to the North." The redhead finally said.

An older woman in jeans held up a piece of granite to the sky. "Spirits of the North, element of Earth, you are our bodies, our strength, and our physical forms. You are the time of winter, and you are the direction where the sun never shines. You are the womb and tomb, the place we always return to in the end. You are the dark moon, and you are the place where the Sun King will once again return to at Samhain. Blessed Earth, come be with us!"

The fairies watched as the mortals faced into the circle. A middle-aged man dressed in red stepped into the center of the circle, close to the bonfire. He crossed his arms in front of him, bowing his head as he said, "Great Lord, Father, Sun King, the God Lugh. You who are Father to us all, and Son and Lover to the Goddess who is our Mother. Tonight, you are at your strongest, and tomorrow, you will begin to grow old and wane until your death at Samhain. But, the Goddess is pregnant with you, and you know you will be reborn at Yule. Great Father, the Sun King, hail and welcome, as we honor you on this Midsummer night."

The man nodded to the redhead in the dress as she also stepped forward. She looked upward, stretching her arms outward into the night. "Great Goddess, Lady, Mother of us all and Lover to the God of the Sun. We honor you tonight in your form of the Mother, who is known as Isis, Gaia, Demeter, and by many other names. Your ocean is the womb which carries all life, and within your womb grows the Sun King who will be reborn at the Winter Solstice. This is your time of Life, where everything is in full blossom and bloom. Great Goddess, Mother, welcome to our Midsummer celebration this night."

The redhead lowered her arms, and for a minute, the six of them stood and breathed in the night air. The two fairies approached closer, feeling the energy and power of the circle. The quarter callers had invited the "spirits" of the directions, so they entered into the circle between the legs of the mortals. The air crackled with energy, and the two fairies buzzed about, adding their own transformative and complementary energy to the circle of power that had been created. They swirled about, dancing about the firelight. Viviato was one of the fire fairies, and she flitted at home in the licking flames. Lioodia simply swirled with the energy, being an air fairy herself as a gentle breeze blew into the circle.

Lioodia danced above the circle, flying just out of sight of the mortals. Not that they could have seen her through normal means, and not that they could have seen her anyway if she had not wished it. Even sensitive, believing mortals needed help to see fairies, and then, it was only by the grace of the fairies that they could be seen. As for Viviato, her body appeared to be a part of the flames she moved in, and occasionally, she would push a log to send up a shower of sparks high into the air. Lioodia stuck her tongue out at her whenever Viviato did this.

Finally, the redheaded mortal spoke, and the two fairies listened. "Tonight is Midsummer, the shortest night of the year. Tomorrow the sun will rise one minute later as the northern hemisphere will once again turn her face away from the sun as winter approaches. Harvest will come, followed by the Fall Equinox, and then Samhain where the God will die. Tonight we also honor the Fae, the fairies, the wee ones who lend us their magick on this Midsummer night. We can hear them playing and celebrating in the fields, and we will honor them later with bread, fruit, and milk. Welcome, fairies. Bless this Midsummer rite."

The redhead paused, and the fairies had stood still as they had heard their names invoked. They could hear other fairies approaching, listening as they joined the circle of mortals. Water fairies, wingless Earth fairies, Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter fairies all came around the circle of mortals to listen. Some stayed just outside of the circle, only wanting to be on-lookers, and still others joined the dance with Lioodia and Viviato. They eyed the display of food on the altar in front of the fire. On the wooden altar were also a large chalice full of mint tea, a large, golden sun plaque propped up on a plate stand, and a seated pregnant Goddess, holding her distended belly.

"Tonight we raise energy to the dying Sun, so that He may continue to shine upon the fruits of the Earth so they may grow into fullness for Harvest. Now, let us join hands, and chant."

The redhead filled an opening in the circle which had been made for her to enter. The six mortals joined hands, and they began to chant a song the fairies had heard before from mortals. The mortal song was more structured than their own, but they recognized its power. Slowly, the fairies began to dance and move to the chant, feeling its power as they added in their own.

"Oh tell me why…
Oh tell me why…
Tell me why must the clouds come to darken the sky?
Oh tell me why…
Oh tell me why…
Tell me why must the clouds come to darken the sky?
This is the wake of Lugh the Sun King.
He lost His life on the Solstice Day.
This is the wake of Lugh the Sun King.
He steps into darkness and guides the way…"

Soon the fairies added their own rendition to the song, singing in voices that blended with the night insects. The power flowed and pulsed, and the fairies felt it going towards their own goals - to see the Midsummer flowers fruit to the Harvest that would come. They found themselves working in a sense, but it was more of an energy working, a kind of magick before the physical manifestation. But, fairies loved their work, whether that was energy making or life making, and this was their forte.

The Harvest would come again. The Sun King would die, but the Harvest would come again. Lugh would step into the darkness of death but pave the way for the Harvest of the dying season. The wheel of life would turn, and mortal and fairy alike would help turn it. These mortals were like the mortals of the old days, and they understood that the wheel would always continue to turn. But, it wouldn't turn on its own. It must be encouraged to turn, danced into moving with the flow of life. The fairies would and could not do it alone, for good work had to be appreciated for it to be truly enjoyed. The fairies would make the plants grow and bloom. They'd turn the seasons as they had always done since time began, but with no mortal creatures to appreciate it, they would have no one to have enjoy it except themselves. These mortals not only appreciated that beauty, they wanted to add their own energy to it, and the fairies worked with that energy, two kinds of co-creators on the Goddess' world.

Deosil, clockwise, the fairies turned with the mortals, turning the wheel, creating their magick as they had done since before humans had existed. Before mammals had existed. Before the dinosaurs had existed. The type of magick had changed. The kinds of plants changed had changed. But, the wheel still continued to turn, and it would turn forever until the end of time.

Suddenly, the mortals stopped in their deosil dance, raising their voices in a frenzied scream towards the night sky. Fairies whipped around them in a madness of energy, whizzing sparks of controlled chaos in a tornado of wild force. Then, with a shower of sparks like falling, floating bubbles, the storm of energy came to an abrupt halt as the voices stopped. A volcano of will and power shot into the night, past the trees to work their energy on the Earth and the Sun. The mortals stood looking at each other for a moment, then they laughed as they hugged each other in joy and bliss. The fairies also laughed, with them, as they flitted among each other in a flirtatious abstract dance of merriment.

The redhead and the middle-aged man came around the inside of the circle, sharing the mint tea and fruit and bread with the others. When they had fed each other, they place the chalice and the plate back onto the altar.

"The dawn is only hours away, and we will stay up to greet it as it comes up in the East. Now, we will thank the quarters and the Lord and Lady before we play games and tell stories." He then held up the empty chalice. "Caller to the North."

The quarter callers thanked the spirits of each direction as the energy of the circle calmed down. The Caller of the South extinguished the candle, and the Caller of the Air tossed sand over the smoldering incense. Finally, the man thanked the God for being with them tonight, and the redhead asked the Goddess "to go if You must, stay if You will."

The six mortals stood in circle for a moment. The redhead spoke first. "The circle is open…"

"But never broken…" The man continued.

"Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again!" They all finished.

The redhead picked up the plate of food and began to walk into the woods. The fairies led her, leading a subtle passageway to the clearing where the fairy celebration was being held. As far as they were concerned, she was one of their own, a kindred spirit and a mortal member of the land of the Fae.

The redhead placed the plate onto the ground, but she didn't see the revelry and merry making all around her. She stopped for a moment, though, and looked around, as if she felt the power and joy that surrounded this place. Then, she smiled, laughed out loud, and dashed off into the woods. Yes, she had felt the energies of the fairies all around her.

For the rest of the night, the fairies ate the fruit, milk, and bread that had been left for them. Well into the night, they heard the laughter and singing of their mortal fellows in the woods, and a few of them came to listen to the stories. Mortals were interesting creatures that led very interesting lives, and some of their tales gave the fairies stories to tell for many centuries to come.

Finally, the sky began to turn from black to inky blue, and a faint pink in the East signaled the approaching dawn. The night insects began to still their songs as the drowsy chirping of the birds began to replace them. Into the field beyond the woods, tired yet happy mortals and fairies came as the dawn advanced. The sky had turned from deep blue to pale blue in the East, and the sky began to add other colors to the faint pink. Fresher, newer, and more subdued colors than had appeared in the sunset that evening began to swirl and change and expand as the hour of sunrise approached. Finally, holding hands, the six men and women noticed the first golden ray of sunlight over the horizon. Another followed, then another as the top of the shining yellow orb came into view. They watched as the shadows of the night melted away, letting the light enter in.

The sun rose higher, and they mortals hugged each other, saying their own silent prayer as the Solstice sun rose higher in the sky. The fairies nearby welcomed in the sun, too, for it was the sun that made life possible and which truly dictated their art. Midsummer night had ended; soon, Harvest would come. Now, they had work to do in the coming moons. Autumn was on its way.

Fairy and human went back into the woods. The humans to get some sleep they had deprived themselves of during the night, and the fairies to make preparations for the coming season. Magick was all around them. Blessed be.

BACK TO THE TOP

The World According to Volcana

I sometimes get asked by people I know or have just met, "so, what do you believe?" They especially ask that question when they find out I'm Pagan. What can I tell them? Actually, usually they want the Reader's Digest version of me, some little sound bite that will encapsulate everything that I feel, dream, desire, and think. As if two little sentences could ever sum up the soul of a person from any religion. Well, maybe there are those out there who can be summed up in a mere two sentences, but I don't feel that I could ever be. And, since this is a statement of fact and not of some large ego, I would have to say that MOST people fall into this group.

Actually, most people want to know what is a Pagan, once I tell them what my religion is. They want to know what Pagans believe, and I often feel like I'm under some scrutiny as if I should represent anyone who calls him or herself a Pagan. The problem is, I could no more represent the Pagan population than Will Smith could represent all African Americans. It is a little disconcerting to know that someone is using you to base their opinion of all members of a particular group, and if I somehow I don't present myself in the best of ways, I somehow let all of my kind down.

But, that is beside the point. I'm no representative of anything really, just myself. I could be the poster child for any one of a number of groups, but I always represent just one - the World According to Volcana.

Now, some of you who don't know me well might ask where I get the name. Why Volcana? What is Volcana? Why not stick with my given name and just be done with it? Well, for starters, even using the name Volcana brings me into another frame of mind and, in fact, another world, one that is separate and beyond this one. It is unique and completely non-mundane. Simply, Volcana refers to the volcano - that destructive force of nature that is both fire and earth. One single explosion can destroy an entire area and pollute the atmosphere for many years afterwards. But, the volcano is also very creative. We can thank the volcano for the Hawaiian Islands. The volcano is both Creator and Destroyer, and it represents the link between the center of the Earth and the world above. It is both the stable and slowly-changing Earth and the unstable, ever-changing Fire. I love the imagery, and I love taking it as my namesake. For I am also like the Earth, slowing changing and stable, but I am also like the Fire, and I can burst at any moment.

So, that is Volcana. Welcome to my world.

Now the question. What do I believe? First, I think I should start from where I came from. I was raised non-denominational Protestant. My household was not a particularly religious one, but we went to church fairly often when I was younger. I think my mother has always been a bit of an agnostic, and I picked up on that from an early age. I could feel her boredom, even though she tried, bless her heart, to bring myself and my sister up to be Christian (and my sister is, so maybe 50% success rate isn't bad). My mom is an intelligent person, and the first book of the Bible which describes in detail the creationist viewpoint of the world was in constant criticism in my household. I had a buffet-style upbringing of Christianity, and it rubbed off. I went to confirmation classes when I was in junior high out of duty, because I was, after all, a good student at school, and this was just another class I was taking. I also have an exceptional memory, so memorizing the ten commandments word for blasted word came easy to me. But, as I have proven, being in the top of the class does not make one a good Christian, and by the time I finished, I could have cared less about religion. I was becoming a good little Atheist.

Back when I was in High School, I thought very little about religion, although I was invited to a church gathering here and there. I had been a nature girl since childhood, so my gods seemed to be forever in the natural world. My first introduction to the Old Ways came about from a series of books called the Earth Children series by Jean Auel (also, ironically, recommended by my mother). In her books, she brought a very human face to my ancient ancestors in Europe and their beliefs. I found myself liking them, and it was an introduction into a new way of thinking outside of the "God is male" view I'd been brought up with. I had a friend around that time who had his own view of religion, and it was through him I had my first semi-introduction to Paganism and Wicca. The first book I bought when I was 17 was The Truth about Witchcraft today by Scott Cunningham. This was in 1994, and little did I know then that the author had died the previous year. I then bought two other books by him later on that year.

My love affair with Paganism at that stage in my life was very short-lived, though. For some reason, it didn't stick, but it did remain at the back of my mind and wouldn't resurface again for another almost 5 years. I placed my three books and my first wand in a box, not to be looked again seriously until college. The Goddess can wait forever; her patience is as infinite as time itself, but we humans have a rather limited time-span in which to accomplish our work, in this life anyway. So, while five years is a fairly long time in the life of a woman, it is but a millionth of a nanosecond in the world of the Divine. And like many things in my life, the Goddess had to hit me over the head with a frying pan (metaphorically speaking) in order to get my attention again. I had a religious experience, and then everything made perfect sense (at least, for a few moments).

When I first came into Paganism 6 years ago (6 years as of April 2004), my focus and link to my religion really had its infancy with the Pagan Goddess. Everything that came later stemmed from that, but She has always been why I became Pagan that day in April 6 years ago. She has been source of strength, source of power, and who I pray to when everything seems to be going awry. Anything that has come to me as a challenge in the past 6 years has strengthened and solidified my feelings for Her. She is not just part of my world, she is my world. So, you can see that describing the world according to Volcana would be impossible without giving Her proper credit.

I won't go into the basics of Paganism here. It would take up too much space, and, frankly, anyone can find out such information simply by doing a search on the World Wide Web. So, I won't regurgitate the little stuff back to you, the unfortunate reader. But I will give the details, the stuff that can't simply be answered by a basic book or Q and A about Paganism.

I have said that the Goddess has been my focus from the beginning. So has the Pagan God. I distinguish between God and the Pagan God for a good reason. When I say "God" most people conjure up in their heads the Judeo-Christian God who smites anyone who doesn't go to church every Sunday or eats meat on Friday during Lent. Saying I have a connection to the "Pagan God" gives a much more rustic image, one of a wild, untamed force of nature that is not only very approachable but also very male (e.g. the Pagan God has a penis). The Pagan God to me represents someone and something that is like a Lover, a brother, a Father, a child, and a son all wrapped up in the same being. He is laughter, the smiling green face hiding in the woods, and He is the Lord of the Dance. He is art, beauty, creativity, and He is a companion rather than a dominator. I can get angry at Him, I can fantasize about Him, and I can walk in the woods with Him. He also understands that He is the Goddess's equal, not Her superior, and that is the difference between Him and the God of the Christians.

But, my first connection was to the Goddess. Although She is much more than just Mother to me, She represents exactly that. When She came to me, I was overawed on many levels, but I was also comforted by Her presence. She feels oftentimes overwhelmingly huge, and her attributes are too many to name. She is a Maiden - Kore the laughing girl, Artemis the determined huntress, Brighid of so many faces I could hardly name, and She is the young woman untamed and unwed and under no vows to any man. She is Mother - Demeter the harvest mother, Gaia mother of the world, Isis mother and devoted lover, and She is the mother we all look to when the world is at its most insane. She is Crone - Kali the terrible, vengeful, Cerridwen who stirs the great cauldron of wisdom, Hecate who stands at the crossroads at every life choice, and She is the grandmother who is both giver of wisdom as well as death bringer. The Goddess is infinitely more than that, though, and I could go devote an entire book on my feelings on the Pagan Goddess. But aside from giving the Reader's Digest version of Her, here is a short summary of what the Goddess means to me.

So many other beliefs of Paganism came later on. The Sabbats - the eight holidays of the wheel of the year - are also very dear to me. They represent order and the recurrent, natural flow of time always turning and moving as the linear world pretends to move by in its straight line. For we don't live in a linear world; we only think that we do. We all recycle, we all return. We come back again and again in one big loop. Even time itself is one big loop, and sometimes it acts as a figure eight - like the sign of infinity. Here is what I think about reincarnation: I had a tough time with it when I first became Pagan. There are a lot of inconsistencies involved with such a philosophy, and I'd been of the belief for so long that death was the final chapter in our lives. Now, it is only the end of this book in the library before we pick up another blank diary and begin to write a new one. The Pagan view is likely slightly different from the Hindu version of reincarnation. In Paganism, there is no ultimate evil, no devil as there is found in Christianity. We all have the potential for evil, to be a devil so to speak. And we all punish ourselves in our own way, or the universe finds a way to punish us in its own way. Someone like Adolph Hitler for example - he simply pushed the wrong way against the flow of the universe. He produced the wrong kind of energy, and it back-fired. He didn't learn the lesson he was put on this earth to learn in that life-time. How is he being punished? Well, somewhere in this world there is a 2-headed, 8-legged rat with nodes in its head that carries the reincarnated soul of Adolph Hitler. He is a freak to his kind, and he is now the biological experiment that he attempted on the Jews. Is he being punished, or is it simply the universe trying to drill it into his little rat brain the message he completely lost during his life as an insane tyrant? If you can't learn patience in this life, the universe might very well send you back as a tree in the next one. Try living glued to one place for a thousand years; you'll definitely learn patience then!

But, why do we suffer? Why do humans suffer? Why disease, war, starvation, and all the hosts of horrible things other humans do to each other, often, ironically, done in the name of a god? I don't think it is punishment for something we did in a past life, but I do think it is meant to teach us a lesson or two. For lessons and punishments are two totally different things. For every bad thing that has happened to me or was done to me in my life, something very important and in some cases, life-saving was learned. It took me in a totally different direction. And I grew from it, therefore the old saying, "the same fire that melts butter tempers steel," or, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." But, what about those who were raped and then murdered? Or young people whose lives were cut short by a drunk driver? How do we explain that one? I think we all enter our lives having some idea of what we'll be facing. We know we need to learn a lesson in this life that will be satisfied by the one we are entering, or our own life is needed to teach someone else a lesson they need to learn in their own lives. In some way, we entered into a contract before our births, and we are obligated to fulfill that contract before we pass on to the next incarnation. And to be perfectly honest, I have no idea when or what possessed me to sign some of the contracts that I did.

But back to the Sabbats. After the Goddess came to me, I best understood the flow of time in nature. After all, I'd been the type of tomboy growing up that didn't like sports but loved getting dirty and sweaty outside in her own back yard. I'd already had a very intimate relationship with Mother Nature. Like my love for the Goddess, I could really go on about my feelings on the Sabbats, and even now, sitting here, I get chills thinking about them. They are celebrations of yearly, cyclical occurrences, and they are as old as the earth herself. Each has its own flavor, smell, and feeling. Each of the Sabbats represents a moment of time or an entire category of time that repeats itself every year. Each year it will be slightly different, and from place to place, their celebrations and meanings may not be similar at all, but each has an emotion and magick all its own. Deep down, we as humans can understand that desire for spring to come again, the need to ritualize our lives. You don't even have to be Pagan or spiritual to understand this flow of time and energy; it is just there like a heartbeat.

The Sabbats came easy to me, but other stuff, like reincarnation, took a little more time.

Magick was one that took some time for me to get used to, and I didn't practice it at first. What you need to understand is that I'm a hyper-rational person. It comes from being a Virgo I've heard. I couldn't understand, at least a first, how my will could affect the universe. How could lighting a bunch of candles, saying some words, and pushing my will into the universe possibly affect what happened in the very mundane world? But, I tell you, it works. I dabbled with it at first, forever the skeptic, but when my first few spells met with success, I was amazed and dazzled. It is an imperfect art, granted, but, back to reincarnation, if you let your will flow with the universe and not against it and you work hard in both the psychic world as well as the mundane one, it really does work. Magick is the reason I have enough money to do what I want to do, why I'm not dead, and why, in spite of the cryptic messages of the gods, I always end up where I'm supposed to be metaphysically (and physically) in the end.

And how does magick work? I've heard scientific as well as metaphysical explanations on this topic. The way I see it, we are all like spiders on one giant spider web, all interwoven with the threads of our fellow sisters and brothers of the earth. There are some among us who feel that we are all flies on this web and just as at mercy to being harmed or killed. But, we are all spiders, constantly weaving and making new connections, and constantly breaking down or plucking the strings which affects other parts of the web. One gentle pluck can affect someone light years away on this web, and it all causes a ripple effect. We are not islands of web, but one, interconnected structure. Because we are all interconnected, what we do affects others in a ripple effect. This works on the non-physical plane as well. If you don't think it does, try remembering a time when you were in a really bad mood. No matter how hard you attempted to hide it and keep it from others, everyone around you still seemed to pick up on it. But, deeper than that, our will and desire does have an effect on the Universe. It affects our lives, how we live, and what we ultimately decide to do. That is where magick comes in. Magick is nothing supernatural or difficult to do. It is all around us, and it is in constant motion. Praying is a form of magick. Decision making is a form of magick. Taking action is a form of magick. Belief is a form of magick. By plucking and weaving our own webs, we in turn affect the webs of others. It is really that simple. How does praying or chanting create magick? I can't really tell you, only that there are more things in this world that we humans are only beginning to understand. And magick is but one of them. Can the Universe thwart our own magick? Yes. Since everything is interconnected, large forces can overwhelm our own. However, I have seen entire snow storms sent off course by human will, provided that the magick is strong enough.

As far as other topics in Paganism goes, my view of the world of religion is that there are many wisdoms, ideas, philosophies, and beliefs that it is almost a crime against oneself to tie your whole world down to just one belief system and religion. As a Pagan, I'd much rather call myself a "spiritual explorer" rather than saying I follow one array of ways. I have been able to find aspects of almost all religions that I find appealing, and from what I've heard from other Pagans, they also tend to agree with only a few exceptions. I guess one could argue that Pagans are spiritual evolutionists, constantly in a state of change according to whatever works. It is not to say that Pagans are spiritual chameleons, since we all tend to be true to ourselves, but what may work for me now may not work for me ten years from now, so I adapt those changes to who I am, not who I was. As a Pagan over the past 6 years I have changed. When I finish writing this, I will also have changed. I treat this now as a photograph of one week in time, which will be different next week if I took another picture.

I have often said that my dream job would be to become a full-time priestess, to be able to live in the world of the Pagan gods all of the time, and only deal with the mundane world on a peripheral basis. The trouble is, of course, that I live in a world of computers, cars, DVD players, cell phones, car insurance, bills, and other realities of modern living. Even if I were to give up all of those modern niceties, what if I got sick some day? I'd have to go to the hospital, and that costs money. Food costs money. Clothes cost money. And although I think I could give up my cell phone to be nearer to my gods (nuns and priests give up more in my opinion), what else would I likely give up? Contact with my parents? Contact with my nephews? Marriage? Love itself?

The last is troubling, and I have often asked myself if I'd give up my religion for a man. I would have to answer honestly, no, but being in love does not necessarily mean having to give up something this vitally important to who I am. I have never understood others "converting" to another religion just because their spouse happens to be of that other religion. And Goddess help me if I'm ever in the situation where I had to make that choice. I think that man would be looking for a new wife if that is what he insisted of me. However, if I were offered tomorrow everything that I desired to become a priestess and live my life serving my Goddess, but I'd also have to give up love and marriage, I'd be in a tough place. And, to be honest, I don't think I can answer that right now. Simply based on the times I've been in "love" in my past, I would have to say with all certainty that any man would be dumped on the offer of my becoming a priestess. For the first time in my life, I really can understand total love for the divine and why priests and nuns give up their own sexuality to be nearer to their god. But, I also have never been that deeply in love, and I may very well have met or will meet the man who would surpass my own vow to serve the Goddess and Pagan God.

But, all of these ideas are pretty internal, and the title of this essay is the World according to Volcana. How do I define the world anyway? Maybe I should start smaller, like my own country. I won't get into politics, simply because I have political views that are often 180 degrees from what other Pagans profess. (Yes, I realize this is my world, but I also have the power of veto on what I get to bring up.) I live in a Christian country, one that seldom if ever acknowledges anything much beyond Christian, Jew, or Muslim. Buddhists might get an honorable mention. The most Pagans get mentioned is the week before Halloween, we might get an article or two about "witches," in the non-fiction world anyway. Hollywood, however, loves witches. At worst, we are portrayed as demon-worshipping baby-killers. At best, we are portrayed as black lipstick wearing, rubber wand waving, bad lyrics chanting bimbos who cast mostly love spells and turn-your-ex-boyfriend-into-a-toad spells. Hollywood is full of bad clichés, and even the best Pagan movies still are plagued by misinformation.

So, I, and my Pagan brothers and sisters, have to exist and work in a world full of people who think we're about to turn them into newts. Or they don't think we exist at all. Most Pagans don't talk about their religion with others. I don't usually mention it unless it comes up in casual conversation. First, it is none of anyone's business. Second, most Pagans respect others' beliefs enough to not try to push them on others (unlike some Christians and some of other proselytizing faiths). And third, Pagans, like most other humans, don't like to be harassed about their spiritual beliefs. Yes, we can argue with the best of them, and most Pagans I know love a good intellectual argument on spirituality. Yet, we also don't want the local bible-thumping church lady we happen to work with to be sprinkling holy water on our keyboard when we take a bathroom break.

I'm the black sheep of my family. There are other black sheep, particularly on my dad's side of the family, but somehow I don't think they could rival all that I've done if everything were out in the open. I look normal, in spite of the tattoo and the jewelry. That often throws people off, because if they know I'm a witch before they meet me, they expect their own pet cliché of what a witch is supposed to look like. Or, if they already know me, they think I must be joking. After all, I don't wear black lipstick.

As far as the world at large, I couldn't really comment. I'm just glad I was born and live in this country and in this time, or else I'd be screwed in a big way. I'm very grateful for the freedoms I enjoy so much, and for that, even though I live in a Christian country, I'm happy to be here.

Being a minority isn't all it is cracked up to be. Being a misunderstood minority is even more trying. Being a minority of a minority is even more confusing and difficult to explain. I'm a white girl, but my status as a minority is much more subtle than that. The KKK would hang me as quickly as anyone else they deemed as not of the "master race," but more likely because I have turned away from their philosophy. I probably have made an even greater sin in their eyes because I have chosen to be the way that I am rather than been born that way. But there isn't just one way to be in this world, either by birth or by choice, and I do not regret the choices I've made, even if such choices in the future might result in me being fired, ostracized, or even killed in the process. But, that is the nature of strong religious belief. Those who live their religion so completely would die for it as well.

Which brings up the topic of betrayal. To me, lying is one of the greatest sins anyone can commit. I made a commitment to my religion a long time ago, and like the druids of old, I'd die for that religion. How many people can say that about his or her own beliefs? How many people can say that about most of their beliefs? Yes, I know plenty of parents who would die very quickly and willingly to save the lives of their children, or, in my case, the lives of my young nephews, but that is the nature of love for our own flesh and blood. I'm talking about ideas and beliefs, which are things often only we can see.

In all honesty, I guess I have been untruthful at times about my own spiritual beliefs. I have never outright lied about them, but I have left out critical information to many of the curious who have asked. Again, for most who ask, it is still none of their goddamned business. But, I'm not going to ashamed of what I believe.

I guess lying in a malicious fashion is what I find most objectionable. There is a big difference in lying to protect sensitive information about oneself and lying to hurt someone else. Lying for personal gain, particularly at the expense of another, is one of those things that will get you in the next life, if not in this one. Nobody is a perfect saint on this, but at least trying to leave the world a better place than the one you came into should be the ultimate goal of everyone. We can all start by being honest. I think most people appreciate honesty, and it is almost always better to clear the air than keep everything bottled up inside of us. If we communicate well, then there will be less room for misunderstandings. Misunderstandings can lead to problems with the overall web.

And, if you accept the web theory anyway, the web IS one big communication network, so one could argue that lying plucks at the threads of the web, until everything falls apart.

The web leads to another theory of mine, which is of fate itself. Who weaves the web? Well, we do. We all do. There were weavers before us, and there will be weavers once we are gone. We leave our own webs there, and we beginning weaving them again in our subsequent lives. But, since time is moving in a circular rather than linear motion, sometimes we have little nick-nacks from future lives we have yet to visit tangled up in our webs, and some dusty cobwebs of things we have done before in lives past. Sometimes it is hard to tell which is from the future and which is from the past, or which is from the here and now.

So, what is fate? Do we really control our own lives? Is magick that much of an effect on our own world? Since we are but one part of the whole web, either what we intend to do must flow very cleanly with the whole universe, or we had better pack some powerful will behind what we wish to accomplish. We still have our own personal choice, but we often have things happen that are very much outside of our control. The Universe has a collective intelligence, and like the Borg of Star Trek, we are but only one voice among billions of other voices. (However, unlike the Borg, we still have control over our own voice, will, and consciousness. Yes, I'm a geek.) If the Universe shifts in a way that is not suited to our needs, the only thing we can do is either fasten our seat belts and hang on or try to weave our own little corner of the Universe into what we wish to see occur. The last can be the hardest to do.

But, I also think that the Goddess and Pagan God have certain plans for us. We are not like chess pieces to be moved at their will, but we are operating under a general blueprint created before our current incarnations' births. I have often chosen a path to go one way and it only be a detour to get back on the path I had been on. I do believe in fate, and I do believe that good or bad, everything in our lives happens for a reason. We do not live in a Universe of chaos, but one that is very orderly and logical in the overall picture. We may enter into little pockets of chaos, and sometimes our own lives may feel very chaotic, but the big picture is always a mathematical formula of perfection.

This is why magick sometimes fails: our will is overpowered by the Universe, or even someone else in that Universe. Or, worse, our own will isn't strong enough. When we create magick, we have to put all of ourselves into it. Chanting a spell and lighting a candle isn't enough. But if our will and desire is strong enough, we can change the entire course of the Universe. We can even change our own fate. The Goddess and Pagan God are not tyrants, and they appreciate a little co-creation from their children now and then. If you ask for it and honestly need and want it, the Goddess will provide.

I don't know how many times I have left what happens in the hands of the gods, though. Sometimes when there are too many decisions, or each one seems to lead down a dark, unknown path, it is okay to close your eyes and allow the Divine to take your hand and lead you to the one they want you to be on. It is a leap of trust and faith to do so, and until you've done it a couple of times, it can be very terrifying.

As I conclude this essay, it is now the end of April 2004. Soon, I'll have to make a choice, one that is very hard for me to make. It is further complicated by something that happened to me a year ago which was beyond my power of control. You could say that the Tower card from the tarot ruled that part of my life at that time, and it comes back to haunt me once again. Three dark paths stretch before me, each with their own problems and unknown futures, and all appear to me to be equally unpalatable. I could try to weave another path, one that is infinitely brighter and more easily digested, or I could just pick one and see where it leads. Or, I could just close my eyes and let the hand of Hecate lead me to the one She wants me to be on. Yes, I could do any of these things, and this is the one I choose: to create my own, out of my own will and choice, no one else's.

What is amazing, gratifying, and often terrifying is that in Paganism, there is a choice. We are not forced to do something we do not want to do. Many of us have chosen to become Pagan for that very reason. We could have easily stayed in a safe, socially acceptable, and rule-ridden religion that we had been brought up in. That would be the easy way out. I'm not sure if daily existence would have changed much, since even Christians and others of dogmatic faiths have to make hard choices every day, but at least the religious life would have been laid out pretty simply.

I know which would be the safest route to travel on, and which would be the ballsiest. I haven't always been the type to take a flying leap out into the unknown, but I've done it before. I've tried to leave it in the hands of the gods, but they still seem to demand that I make a decision. Sometimes that is the way our lives work.

I guess sometimes we make our own fate, and sometimes it is made for us. Life was never designed to have any simple answers, as much as we would like to believe that there sometimes are. The world according to Volcana is one where I would like to have simplicity but know deep down I can not have that. I am attracted to that which is simple, like beauty or my love for the Divine. Yet, I also have a bizarre attraction to that which I can not understand, or, maybe, it is a bizarre attraction to trying to simplify the unsimplifiable. I don't think I fully understand it right now, nor do I think I ever will. Philosophers have spent their entire lives trying to figure it all out, why should I be any different from them?

So, I think I've touched on many different topics here. I could devote an entire book to some of these topics. In reality, my ideas and opinions change almost daily, so to make it any longer than a few thousand words would only make this a process of constant editing. Spiritually, I'm in a constant state of evolution and change, since that which is living will change. The only things that do not change are dead. That is probably one of the things some people of other faiths don't understand, that if they want their religion to continue to thrive, it must also change. Paganism is very much a living religion, and so I think it will continue to grow and live for many years to come.

Welcome to the world according to Volcana. If you've read this far, you are probably ready for a drink or a trip the park. Either way, drink responsibly, and if you plan to walk around barefoot, don't step on any bumble bees.

BACK TO THE TOP

Brighid's Fire

It is so far into the future that humans as we know them now are simple creatures compared to what they have become. Their minds have changed so much that what we now consider to be miracles of the human psyche today is commonplace and child's play to them. They are not humans. They are Evola.

On a night too distant to be placed, a small, white orb rose over the Eastern horizon at sunset. It was the moon, now thousands of miles further away from the Earth. Days are longer now. Instead of the 24-hour days, the days are now close to 28 hours long, though the concept of an hour has long since been abandoned for much more accurate time measurement. The sun, once bright yellow, even when setting below the Western horizon, is a slightly darker shade of yellow-orange, the age of the once-young star showing as it sat, fat and old, under a mantle of coral and cornflower blue.

In the steppes of high, golden grass, slightly frozen in the tundra of late winter, movement would be seen, though not by the Evola who had long-since taken to the stars. No, no descendents of ours lived on this Earth anymore. They had abandoned it long ago, to leave it for larger and even more habitable planets far away. For while the Earth was still a place which was the breadbasket of life, it had long since stopped being habitable for humans. It had grown too hot during the summers, and even during the harsh winters at the poles, the temperatures rarely stayed long below zero.

It hadn't been our fault, much to the surprise of the scientists who had been crying about Global Warming for years. Instead, it had been nature taking its course as the aging sun slowly grew fatter, its massive girth expanding slightly to warm the Earth a simple few degrees. That was, however, more than enough to grow the desserts while at the same time melting the ice caps, leaving smaller areas of land with much less farmland. The Evola, seeing the slow death of Earth approaching, even though it still had perhaps millions or maybe even billions of years of healthy life left, decided to flee to other worlds.

The creatures that exist in this distant future Earth are unlike anything we've ever seen. Descents of rabbits thunder over the land, stirring up dry, brown dust as the children of sewer rats pursue them for food. Giant birds the size of small planes glide effortlessly for days in the too-blue sky. The zebras and lions which had played the great game of hunted and hunter now have long disappeared from the Earth, having enjoyed their brief time on Earth as plentiful species before slowly dying off in extinction. Such was the fate of many other creatures, from the great Elephant to the common house cat. Of all of the species that had reigned during the time of the 21st century on earth, all but a pitiful few had never bourn another race beyond them. Rats and rabbits had evolved, but the more noble animals had long since disappeared.

But, perhaps the most surprising part of this future land was not the odd creatures that had sprung up, nor the fact that humans no longer made their temporary scratches that could be healed over within a few years. It was that the old people that existed when humans were still living in caves still made their magick there.

Some called them fairies. Some called them the Old Gods. Some saw them as a race that was before humans, infinitely more advanced yet somehow simpler at the same time. The Irish called them the Fae or the Tuatha De Danann. All of these things they were, and they were as old as time yet ageless as eternity.

These were the creatures that now looked up into the steadily blackening sky. Would they die with the Earth? They could not leave it, not like the Evola. They were permanent inhabitants of Earth, bound as much to the planet as the planet was bound to them. In a billion or more years, they had barely changed, still taking on the form and appearance of what humans had looked like in their earlier days. The fairies were as much apart of the Otherworld as they were of this one, and that was their true immortality. Even when the Earth died off completely, burned into a useless cinder by the obese sun, the fairies would retreat permanently into that Otherworld, never to return to their old, corporeal home. For while they were certainly bound to the Earth, they were no more apart of it than the Evola in some ways. Each of these intelligent beings had found their own means of escaping the coffin of extinction, something which millions of other species on Earth had failed to accomplish.

Perhaps the fairies had caused the gradual warming of the planet to make the Evola leave, though that seemed unlikely since the sun was out of their realm of control. Even still, the fairies still made merry, still painted the Earth as they had done countless centuries before. And as before, the sun tides and moon tides still flowed through them, though much slower than it had when their race was born.

And, as it had occurred before, this night was a night the fairies celebrated as they had done for a billion years. The temperature had changed from the swampy tropical-like sauna of the age of the dinosaurs, to the bitter cold and snow of the British Isles during the times of the crusades, to the cool dryness of the current era. But, the meaning had remained the same. Spring was on its way in the Northern Hemisphere, and that was always a cause for celebration. As priestesses had done when the Old Ways were still alive and well in Ireland, the fairies kept up the tradition. Tonight was the night to honor the returning sun and the old Goddess Brighid, Goddess of fire.

Small bodies spirited through the tall grass like streaks of light and color. Distant thunder of 2,000-pound rabbit hooves could be heard. A breath of dry, quickly-chilling wind ruffled the grass, making it look like a golden sea. Then, like the firefly, which had been extinct for so long before, tiny random flashes of light shone through the golden grasses, becoming less erratic and more like a coherent pattern. They blinked in unison, swirling and moving to an inhuman tune. Music, like nothing that had been heard on earth except from the fairies themselves, began to make its eerie entrance onto the silent land. These fairies were the only intelligent creatures for thousands of miles. They had all come to congregate here to celebrate the old holiday of Imbolc.

Had an Evola or even our current age of humans come upon this place, they might not have seen anything, for even the highly evolved Evola couldn't see the fairies unless the fairies had wanted to be seen. The Evola would look far more advanced and evolved than the fairies, but the fairies did not care. Fairies could take any form they wanted to, if, of course, they chose to be seen at all by those who looked upon them.

The dance of the fairies became more organized as a single voice, distinctly human, began to sing from their center. Finally, a form not seen in maybe millions of years began to take shape. It was a young woman, clad in a white gown. At first, the formation was all white light, and the woman no more than a brilliant, vibrating statue of fireflies. Then, eyes were formed, then lips, ears, and her face began to take color. As the fairies vibrated and moved faster and faster, the light began to blur into a solid shape, which was translucent but not transparent to the eye. The young woman's hair was the color of the surrounding grass, her eyes blue, and her skin slightly pink as if from the chilly night air. She smiled.

"My name is Brighid. I am a form of the Great Goddess, and I have not left the Earth. I give tonight my annual blessing upon this planet as I have for a billion years. Light is returning, even though this is the darkest hour. No one can hold back the dawn. Humans have left this earth, and animals I once kept at my feet are now all memories. The Earth is changing, and it is dying. Some day, it will become like the Hellish planet Venus, and the children of the Earth will cease to be. However, as long as the fairies remain here, I will be worshipped. They will bring me back to speak for them and to the creatures of the Earth, and the memory of me will live on. I have outlived all religions that had been invented by humans, and I have outlived the disappearance of their descendents the Evola. The Evola have their own new gods, and they no longer know of me. But I still am and will forever be the Great Goddess, and no life can be without Me."

Then, the woman's color began to fade, and her form began to blur as she became once again nothing more than a disorganized movement of white light. As she disappeared completely, a patch of grass began to be cleared at her feet as small, humanlike creatures began to pile what looked like small twigs onto the small patch of ground. Other fairies cleared more space as the pile of twigs grew larger, until finally it spanned a good 300 feet wide. The Earth seemed to sigh, and not a sound could be heard. Then, a small cinder began to glow, catching the twig next to it. The cinder grew larger, forming into a small flame which continued to grow. A bonfire began to emerge, consuming the twigs around it as the fairies fed the flame with more twigs. Salamanders - the fire fairies which bore no resemblance to the long-extinct lizard-like amphibians - danced in the flames, sending their own energies to the bonfire's growth.

The bonfire had now grown so large that it could be seen from many miles away in each direction, for other than the small rolling hills, there was nothing for hundreds of miles to block the view of the bonfire. It grew and grew, yet it was contained but its creators. Fire, the most primordial and most ancient of creations, which had given early humans, still huddled in caves, their first hot meals and refuge from cold and dangerous predators, burned on, untouched by time and the extinction of species. It was a symbol of Brighid's Fire, the fire of the Goddess, the One eternal thing that would protect this land until its death by the fire of the sun.

The fairies built this bonfire, not only in Her memory, but in Her honor as a current guest and loved one. From miles around, animals stopped to watch the large bonfire, and some part of them remembered and knew to bow before the power of the Goddess. High above the Earth, a giant globe orbited, filled with the Evola who were still studying the Earth from a distance. One of them saw the bonfire as a small speck, but it had grown large enough to be seen from space. She observed the bonfire with her senses, not just as she physically saw it, but as she sensed it as well. For the Evola were psychics and sensitives, and she was no different.

The Evola smiled, in a way that would have been foreign to a human, then, speaking in an ancient tongue her kind had long since consciously forgotten, said, "Yes, I know you are there. You have been there long before my most ancient ancestors took their first on-shore breaths. I honor you, Old One. Even though we have our own gods now, we still have not yet forgotten you. The Sun is returning, Oh Blessed Brighid, Oh, Great Goddess. You are our immortal Mother."

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