We are all prisoners here. You can’t put a finger on why, you can’t define the cage, but regardless, we are confined, restricted by rules of society, rules of physics. We cannot fly, we cannot run naked among the throngs of a crowded street. We restrict ourselves.
Past times I’ve done a freewrite, a ramble, or really anything like this, I end up talking about Truth, in one fashion or another. Beyond this brief mention here, I’m going to try and not this time. There are other things to talk about. Other things indeed.
I cannot remember what name I came up with for a child. I liked it very much, and so did others. It had an excellent nickname, using the second half of the name. I can’t remember what it was, though. I’d really like to remember. I think it might have been something with a nickname of Andra. But I might be mis-remembering. Tara perhaps. Oh, right. Alia. Lia for short (NOT Ally for short). I like that name very much. Also more likely to get it by the wifey than, say, Friday, which is another name I like very much.
Okay, now that I’ve figured that one out, now to continue. Ever notice how some names come naturally to mind when you want to write? It seems like every brief story I begin to write, the main character is named Jacob, Jake, or something like that. I know so many other names, more descriptive names, and yet I still pick Jacob. I don’t know why. This time, after MUCH racking of brain and contacting several people to try and remember (and then remembering on my own finally), I’m thinking Enoch is more appropriate. I don’t know why. I just like the name and would like to use it. Time for something more to drink.
The world is filled with mythologies. Nearly every native american tribe has a full, robust, and unique mythos, as do nearly every other society in the world. While many things differ, a few things remain mostly consistent: spirits and spiritual beings, godlike creatures, monsters, demons, beings that defy description or title. Griffons, rocs, phoenixes, dragons (especially dragons), other creatures of myth show themselves time and again. Except in New England. While there are a few, small legends and myths, most stories have been lost, or perhaps never existed. The question, however, is this: is there a reason so many more myths have been lost in this region than in other places? What if, perhaps, this was intentional?
What if the creatures in this region are simply quieter? More well hidden?
Enoch sat in the coffee shop, sipping a large cup of Kenya AA shakily, and tried to get a grip on what he’d just seen. He had always tried to keep an open mind about the supernatural or paranormal, a firm believer that there were things in this world that were beyond the ken of man. He’d just never expected to be proven RIGHT.
Earlier that day, Enoch had been out in the woods, wandering about as he was inclined to do on sunny, crisp autumn days. He didn’t really have any reason to wander around, he just felt a yearning to do so on certain days of the year. This time, he had chosen to wander to the top of a small hill at the edge of town, a dense part of the forest that had very few trails (local superstition was that it was haunted… though few people believed it anymore, hunters still tended to avoid it, if only out of habit). He’d felt a warm breeze come from the west, and turned to see how the wind could have gotten through the dense forest ceiling. As he turned, he noticed a dark shadow dart out of view, through the corner of his eye.
Curious, he’d gone to investigate. Walking softly across the mossy forest floor, he’d crept forward, and rounded a tree just in time to see an oddly shaped piece of forest floor shift and fuse back in with its surroundings. Kneeling down by it, Enoch had begun to feel around, looking for a seam. Slowly, he began to peel up the “door”. Finally getting it open, he was about to look inside, when suddenly a small creature shot out of the hole. Looking like a medium sized garden snake with wings, straddled by a small elf-like being. It hovered briefly in front of him, and the serpent riding faerie (as he’d since decided to call it) uttered something in a strange tongue. Which was when Enoch fainted.
He awoke near his car at the edge of the forest, half a mile away. Shaken and troubled, he got in his car, and drove to somewhere that he could stop and think about what he saw, in the safety of the normal world.