Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "past"
The INFAMOUS Penelope...
We reached the dark dankness that is Penelope’s dwellings, deep in the Southern Louisiana bayou. Keane clearly intrigued by his new surrounding, “All the time I spent on this Earth and I have never experienced anyplace so suspenseful, I feel like a thousand eyes are on me.”
He turned to gain our reaction, he was quickly silenced by Estella’s words, “There are, be aware, we are never alone here.” She passed by him, exiting the tiny vessel gaining access to Penelope’s pier. We walk up the twisted staircase, constructed from worn boards, branches and vine, the hand rail resembling bones tied together with tendons and muscle.
The air was thick with humidity and Keane complained that the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt as if he was being pulled from the boney staircase; but something caught his senses and he began to take quick breaths as if tracking a scent. I turned the rusted door knob; Estella and I entering Penelope’s home without invitation, Keane was forced to reside on the other side of the threshold until she noticed our presence.
“Cian. Estella.” She said keeping her gaze on the tiny animal bones in front of her, “Please come in Keane, it’s been a very long time.” My head whipped back to glance at him step into Penelope’s door a smile crossing his lips. I looked back at her and then to Estella, who shrugged as if she didn’t care. Keane closed the door behind him and stood in front of her table of bones, waiting to meet her eyes. She finally lifted her head and they stared into each other for what seemed like forever.
“I knew I would find you again someday.” Keane said, continuing to gaze at her longingly, enraptured by her.
“And so you have”, Penelope’s eyes softened from her hazel brown to ice blue and her hair began to loosen and grow, turning from blue black to sandy blonde. She stood up from behind her table and her body began to slim and her clothes changed from the long sundress she wore as we entered to tattered rags. She stepped out from behind the table and the flip flops she was wearing began to disappear, to reveal bare white feet. Standing before us was no longer Penelope but the priestess who assisted us and turned us from human to vampire in Scotland centuries ago.
“What the fuck just happened?!?!”
Estella jumped from her dresser perch, landing with a thud. The boots she traded the heels for met the floor with persistence; she attempted to move from her landing and was rebuffed by the priestess’ simple yet powerful stare, resulting in Estella’s stasis.
“Under my roof, young one…..you will have respect for me and mine, quiet yourself or leave.”
Keane stood with his hands in his pants pockets during the priestess’ transformation and once it was complete, he thrust forward, wrapped his arms around the young woman, pulling her away to gaze at her face, he placed his hands around it, pulling it toward his and kissed her passionately. He pulled her away from him once more and said, “Your scent, I could detect it as soon as we got here, I just couldn’t believe it, I knew it had to be false. You’re really here.”
They embrace again and I look to Estella out of respect for the reunited, “lovers”. The priestess released Keane from her grasp, turned to me, still in her original form as the Scottish woman and asked both me and Keane to have a seat and hope to somewhat explain how she came to be here. We sat on two antique soda crates; Keane refused to divert his gaze elsewhere nearly missing the small wooden box as he sat.
I realized that her compassion for us that night meant more to him than the rest of us. Estella, once released from her time as a statue, re-perched herself on the old dresser, more wary of her actions as she re-immerses in her cell phone, but not before shooting invisible daggers at the priestess.
“Cian, I want to start by apologizing for not revealing myself to you years ago. For me it’s been a lifetime of failed trust and how was I to be sure you could be trusted, even after our long relationship.” I didn’t respond out of respect and she continued.
“Do you forgive me?” She said as she looked to me sympathetically. I simply nodded at her and I was glad she was familiar with my ways. She explained that she has existed for millennia, transferring her spirit into those who possess the ability to communicate with other realms. When we happened upon her in Dalry, she had been in her true form, it only became dangerous for her once the Christians had made their mark, deeming anyone connected to the spirit world to be feared and destroyed. She was called a witch, driven into the Cleeves Cove Cave system not far from her home and finally in 1576 she was burned at the stake as a woman named Bessie Dunlop.
She told us, as Bessie, she had received information through the dimensions in reference to lost items belonging to a Thomas Reid, former barony officer in Dalry. Being a compassionate person she reported the sighting, but the gesture was most unsettling for the authority since Mr. Reid died in the Battle of Pinkie 30 years prior.
Claiming to the law, she first encountered him while on a walk near Monkcastle. She admitted to having a familiar who taught her her trade of craft. Creating ointments and medicines out of herbs to heal the wounds or sicknesses of livestock and people; many knew of her and went to her for advice or a cure for a sick child, treating everyone equally, poor and rich alike.
Unfortunately she was eventually seen as a witch, a threat to be feared. There is some debate as to where she was burned at the stake; she can’t remember where her exact location of death is, but she theorized that it may have been Castle Hill in Edinburgh. But felt that a death at Corsehillmuir outside of Kilwinning would have been less embarrassing. I was extremely interested in this account and being as “Penelope” and I always spoke to one another in broken sentences, the vast and drawn out conversation was a welcome yet foreign one.
Keane and I sat listening as she recounted the many times she spirit jumped and I began to wonder what became of the consciousness of the human once “Penelope” or the priestess inhabited it. I let the thought escape as she spoke about arriving in Haiti, finding and inhabiting a little girl named Penelope D’Anjou. She explained that she resided in the girl for only a few years before being cast out of Penelope’s body by the elders of the girl’s village.
She recalled haunting various places around Haiti but no other vessel proved itself to be as worthy as the little Penelope. By the time the priestess’ spirit decided come hell or high water she would inhabit that little girl again; conjuring a stasis spell to remain inside until death, the proper way for the priestess to exit a vessel; the girl had grown into a woman and was pregnant with a baby girl herself. Inhabiting a vessel that is already occupied is highly forbidden and could cause the deaths of all three beings. She followed Penelope from Haiti to Louisiana and immediately after the child was born, the priestess found her way back inside the young woman.
“And I’ve been with her ever since, she’s a delightful person and a great asset to me and the community. She is much older now, but I don’t let that show when we take clients. She would prefer to look as she should at her age, but I told her that is not advisable, she would look, well... dead, if I did so.
I say to her, “”Penelope, you will die one of these days and I will be expelled from you, but until then, we both should look presentable.” And she relents to me, knowing what I say to be true.” She smiled and gazed at Keane every so often as she spoke.
“Forgive the interruption, but you can speak to the actual Penelope?” I asked astonished.
“Of course, I can speak with all my vessels. I have at least that respect, others would block the vessels consciousness out, but I appreciate the relationship and the shared space. I like to think that is how I have survived this long. Which is the reason I was expelled from Penelope as a child; I should have never inhabited her that young”, she stopped and smiled to no one and nothing, “I’m sorry, Penelope was just agreeing with me and as I have explained to her, she was the most powerful vessel, even at that age, I had ever encountered, which she should take as an immense compliment.” She stopped again and nodded to herself.
“When Penelope was a child and my spirit entered her body, her power was vast but dangerously unstable. She was able to block me long enough to tell her mother someone else was in her body. Her mother reported this to the elders and a ceremony took place to expel me. My spirit hung over head but I didn’t cast a shadow upon them like they expected. I knew what I did was not how it is done, but I couldn’t let that little girl’s power escape me. I was relentless following her all the way to America, but I was obsessed and the excitement of the new world intrigued me.”
Keane spoke up before she had a chance to continue, “And her child?”
“Lives in New Orleans and probably can’t wait for us to die”, and she began to laugh hysterically, “I’m sorry, just an ongoing joke between us. Besides, we would hate for Cian to change his lifestyle again.” And she smiled in my direction.
Keane was obviously confused by our exchange, “What does that mean?” he said humorously. Before I had a chance to defend my honor to my brother, the priestess explained. Keane immediately turned back to me and said, “So you didn’t feed earlier tonight?”
“I did.” I replied and I can see he wants more detail.
The priestess snapped her head in my direction, “You fed off of a human?”
“No.” I am stern.
“What?! What the hell is she talking about?” Keane is confused and slowly growing irritated at the thought of it.
“You didn’t tell him?” The priestess is pulling my veil and Keane is slowly figuring it out.
“Not relevant to the situation at hand.”
“Still.”
“I know.” And there we were, back to our familiar broken sentence conversations.
“Okay…uh…what?” Keane said astonished and glanced back and forth from me to the priestess.
I ignored his comment and looked back at the priestess, “Since you’re laying it all out on the table, what is your real name?” it was a bold inquiry I admit, but I had to know and I thought Keane should know.
But my brother impressed me unexpectedly and said, “Myra Elnora”, beaming at her.
As she mirrored his sentimental gaze and the name fell from his lips, she bowed her head to us all. “At the time of our first meeting and the ritual, I was going by Gwendolyn DeGarva, in hopes of keeping the authorities of the day at bay.” She stops as if she is listening to Penelope. “Yes, you’re right, I shall.” Myra began telling us of her connection to each of us. For centuries she had watched over us, and as a result of her being the catalyst of who we are, is connected to us individually.
“Cian, I am connected to you mentally, your thought are my thoughts. I can hear everything you think and my dear, on some occasions it hasn’t been the most beautiful of thoughts. I know your predicament with the young woman and Estella’s connection to her and before you ask, I cannot get involved unfortunately,” she pauses, glancing annoyingly at Estella, who is still engrossed in her cell phone, “I also know of your feelings for Estella”, she pauses again hoping to gain the female vamp’s attention, which is exactly what she did. Estella tore herself away from her cell upon the last three words Myra uttered; her fierce green eyes blazing at the priestess. It’s not been the easiest of relationships where Estella and Penelope are concerned. Let’s just say, they don’t trust each other and Myra’s newest revelation isn’t helping matters, not to mention the stasis.
“It’s why we speak to each other the way we do, I already know what you’re thinking or about to think or ever thought of thinking.” She began cackling to herself, before speaking again to her inner self, “yes, three times fast, indeed.” She focused, “Apologies, I like to keep my vessels consciousnesses close as I have already told you, Penelope found that funny Cian.” She smiled at me, “We know, you’re glad she’s amused.”
I was dumbfounded, I said nothing, spoke no words, and uttered not a sound. I was beginning to feel a little put upon at this point, even for someone as old as me, who has seen virtually everything this world has to offer….my thoughts were interrupted, since at this point I know they don’t belong to only me.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Revelations of Cian
He turned to gain our reaction, he was quickly silenced by Estella’s words, “There are, be aware, we are never alone here.” She passed by him, exiting the tiny vessel gaining access to Penelope’s pier. We walk up the twisted staircase, constructed from worn boards, branches and vine, the hand rail resembling bones tied together with tendons and muscle.
The air was thick with humidity and Keane complained that the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt as if he was being pulled from the boney staircase; but something caught his senses and he began to take quick breaths as if tracking a scent. I turned the rusted door knob; Estella and I entering Penelope’s home without invitation, Keane was forced to reside on the other side of the threshold until she noticed our presence.
“Cian. Estella.” She said keeping her gaze on the tiny animal bones in front of her, “Please come in Keane, it’s been a very long time.” My head whipped back to glance at him step into Penelope’s door a smile crossing his lips. I looked back at her and then to Estella, who shrugged as if she didn’t care. Keane closed the door behind him and stood in front of her table of bones, waiting to meet her eyes. She finally lifted her head and they stared into each other for what seemed like forever.
“I knew I would find you again someday.” Keane said, continuing to gaze at her longingly, enraptured by her.
“And so you have”, Penelope’s eyes softened from her hazel brown to ice blue and her hair began to loosen and grow, turning from blue black to sandy blonde. She stood up from behind her table and her body began to slim and her clothes changed from the long sundress she wore as we entered to tattered rags. She stepped out from behind the table and the flip flops she was wearing began to disappear, to reveal bare white feet. Standing before us was no longer Penelope but the priestess who assisted us and turned us from human to vampire in Scotland centuries ago.
“What the fuck just happened?!?!”
Estella jumped from her dresser perch, landing with a thud. The boots she traded the heels for met the floor with persistence; she attempted to move from her landing and was rebuffed by the priestess’ simple yet powerful stare, resulting in Estella’s stasis.
“Under my roof, young one…..you will have respect for me and mine, quiet yourself or leave.”
Keane stood with his hands in his pants pockets during the priestess’ transformation and once it was complete, he thrust forward, wrapped his arms around the young woman, pulling her away to gaze at her face, he placed his hands around it, pulling it toward his and kissed her passionately. He pulled her away from him once more and said, “Your scent, I could detect it as soon as we got here, I just couldn’t believe it, I knew it had to be false. You’re really here.”
They embrace again and I look to Estella out of respect for the reunited, “lovers”. The priestess released Keane from her grasp, turned to me, still in her original form as the Scottish woman and asked both me and Keane to have a seat and hope to somewhat explain how she came to be here. We sat on two antique soda crates; Keane refused to divert his gaze elsewhere nearly missing the small wooden box as he sat.
I realized that her compassion for us that night meant more to him than the rest of us. Estella, once released from her time as a statue, re-perched herself on the old dresser, more wary of her actions as she re-immerses in her cell phone, but not before shooting invisible daggers at the priestess.
“Cian, I want to start by apologizing for not revealing myself to you years ago. For me it’s been a lifetime of failed trust and how was I to be sure you could be trusted, even after our long relationship.” I didn’t respond out of respect and she continued.
“Do you forgive me?” She said as she looked to me sympathetically. I simply nodded at her and I was glad she was familiar with my ways. She explained that she has existed for millennia, transferring her spirit into those who possess the ability to communicate with other realms. When we happened upon her in Dalry, she had been in her true form, it only became dangerous for her once the Christians had made their mark, deeming anyone connected to the spirit world to be feared and destroyed. She was called a witch, driven into the Cleeves Cove Cave system not far from her home and finally in 1576 she was burned at the stake as a woman named Bessie Dunlop.
She told us, as Bessie, she had received information through the dimensions in reference to lost items belonging to a Thomas Reid, former barony officer in Dalry. Being a compassionate person she reported the sighting, but the gesture was most unsettling for the authority since Mr. Reid died in the Battle of Pinkie 30 years prior.
Claiming to the law, she first encountered him while on a walk near Monkcastle. She admitted to having a familiar who taught her her trade of craft. Creating ointments and medicines out of herbs to heal the wounds or sicknesses of livestock and people; many knew of her and went to her for advice or a cure for a sick child, treating everyone equally, poor and rich alike.
Unfortunately she was eventually seen as a witch, a threat to be feared. There is some debate as to where she was burned at the stake; she can’t remember where her exact location of death is, but she theorized that it may have been Castle Hill in Edinburgh. But felt that a death at Corsehillmuir outside of Kilwinning would have been less embarrassing. I was extremely interested in this account and being as “Penelope” and I always spoke to one another in broken sentences, the vast and drawn out conversation was a welcome yet foreign one.
Keane and I sat listening as she recounted the many times she spirit jumped and I began to wonder what became of the consciousness of the human once “Penelope” or the priestess inhabited it. I let the thought escape as she spoke about arriving in Haiti, finding and inhabiting a little girl named Penelope D’Anjou. She explained that she resided in the girl for only a few years before being cast out of Penelope’s body by the elders of the girl’s village.
She recalled haunting various places around Haiti but no other vessel proved itself to be as worthy as the little Penelope. By the time the priestess’ spirit decided come hell or high water she would inhabit that little girl again; conjuring a stasis spell to remain inside until death, the proper way for the priestess to exit a vessel; the girl had grown into a woman and was pregnant with a baby girl herself. Inhabiting a vessel that is already occupied is highly forbidden and could cause the deaths of all three beings. She followed Penelope from Haiti to Louisiana and immediately after the child was born, the priestess found her way back inside the young woman.
“And I’ve been with her ever since, she’s a delightful person and a great asset to me and the community. She is much older now, but I don’t let that show when we take clients. She would prefer to look as she should at her age, but I told her that is not advisable, she would look, well... dead, if I did so.
I say to her, “”Penelope, you will die one of these days and I will be expelled from you, but until then, we both should look presentable.” And she relents to me, knowing what I say to be true.” She smiled and gazed at Keane every so often as she spoke.
“Forgive the interruption, but you can speak to the actual Penelope?” I asked astonished.
“Of course, I can speak with all my vessels. I have at least that respect, others would block the vessels consciousness out, but I appreciate the relationship and the shared space. I like to think that is how I have survived this long. Which is the reason I was expelled from Penelope as a child; I should have never inhabited her that young”, she stopped and smiled to no one and nothing, “I’m sorry, Penelope was just agreeing with me and as I have explained to her, she was the most powerful vessel, even at that age, I had ever encountered, which she should take as an immense compliment.” She stopped again and nodded to herself.
“When Penelope was a child and my spirit entered her body, her power was vast but dangerously unstable. She was able to block me long enough to tell her mother someone else was in her body. Her mother reported this to the elders and a ceremony took place to expel me. My spirit hung over head but I didn’t cast a shadow upon them like they expected. I knew what I did was not how it is done, but I couldn’t let that little girl’s power escape me. I was relentless following her all the way to America, but I was obsessed and the excitement of the new world intrigued me.”
Keane spoke up before she had a chance to continue, “And her child?”
“Lives in New Orleans and probably can’t wait for us to die”, and she began to laugh hysterically, “I’m sorry, just an ongoing joke between us. Besides, we would hate for Cian to change his lifestyle again.” And she smiled in my direction.
Keane was obviously confused by our exchange, “What does that mean?” he said humorously. Before I had a chance to defend my honor to my brother, the priestess explained. Keane immediately turned back to me and said, “So you didn’t feed earlier tonight?”
“I did.” I replied and I can see he wants more detail.
The priestess snapped her head in my direction, “You fed off of a human?”
“No.” I am stern.
“What?! What the hell is she talking about?” Keane is confused and slowly growing irritated at the thought of it.
“You didn’t tell him?” The priestess is pulling my veil and Keane is slowly figuring it out.
“Not relevant to the situation at hand.”
“Still.”
“I know.” And there we were, back to our familiar broken sentence conversations.
“Okay…uh…what?” Keane said astonished and glanced back and forth from me to the priestess.
I ignored his comment and looked back at the priestess, “Since you’re laying it all out on the table, what is your real name?” it was a bold inquiry I admit, but I had to know and I thought Keane should know.
But my brother impressed me unexpectedly and said, “Myra Elnora”, beaming at her.
As she mirrored his sentimental gaze and the name fell from his lips, she bowed her head to us all. “At the time of our first meeting and the ritual, I was going by Gwendolyn DeGarva, in hopes of keeping the authorities of the day at bay.” She stops as if she is listening to Penelope. “Yes, you’re right, I shall.” Myra began telling us of her connection to each of us. For centuries she had watched over us, and as a result of her being the catalyst of who we are, is connected to us individually.
“Cian, I am connected to you mentally, your thought are my thoughts. I can hear everything you think and my dear, on some occasions it hasn’t been the most beautiful of thoughts. I know your predicament with the young woman and Estella’s connection to her and before you ask, I cannot get involved unfortunately,” she pauses, glancing annoyingly at Estella, who is still engrossed in her cell phone, “I also know of your feelings for Estella”, she pauses again hoping to gain the female vamp’s attention, which is exactly what she did. Estella tore herself away from her cell upon the last three words Myra uttered; her fierce green eyes blazing at the priestess. It’s not been the easiest of relationships where Estella and Penelope are concerned. Let’s just say, they don’t trust each other and Myra’s newest revelation isn’t helping matters, not to mention the stasis.
“It’s why we speak to each other the way we do, I already know what you’re thinking or about to think or ever thought of thinking.” She began cackling to herself, before speaking again to her inner self, “yes, three times fast, indeed.” She focused, “Apologies, I like to keep my vessels consciousnesses close as I have already told you, Penelope found that funny Cian.” She smiled at me, “We know, you’re glad she’s amused.”
I was dumbfounded, I said nothing, spoke no words, and uttered not a sound. I was beginning to feel a little put upon at this point, even for someone as old as me, who has seen virtually everything this world has to offer….my thoughts were interrupted, since at this point I know they don’t belong to only me.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
Revelations of Cian
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