The Maiden of the Mists is a short story inspired from this picture to my right.
It is a simple story about a young witch who encounters more than she bargained for when
doing her first solo ritual.
I decided to read it here for your enjoyment and entertainment.
I did my best to imitate an Irish accent.
So, you have been warned.
Roll the intro.
The Goddess tilted her head to one side, assessing the young one before her who was at ease with
death.
There was a stillness in her that was beyond her years, and a wisdom Branwen had never
experienced in others of Kaie's age.
This one is special.
Tis a shame she has been overlooked.
She saw and felt the apprehension within Kaie.
The girl is ready, but I must delve into the stillness that I feel in her.
She made motions for Kaie to follow her among the tombstones.
The girl followed the Goddess until she stopped in front of a small stone plaque inset in
the soil.
It contained only a name and the dates you would expect to find on a grave.
The stone was worn, and beginning to crack, neglected and forgotten in the rear of the
graveyard.
Weeds had taken over what once was grass and the small stand where flowers would be placed
was cracked and broken.
Branwen felt sadness from the youth.
"Why do you feel sadness, Kaie?
This is but a forgotten grave."
"This size of the site is for a child of not more than eight or nine, Goddess.
Why has this child been forgotten?"
When Branwen shook her head, her copper hair moved slightly.
"This child was shunned by the village.
He was a trouble maker, and there were those who thought that he was possessed by demons.
He would run free in the village without supervision or guidance of any kind.
Things would be broken, torn, stolen.
They would blame him."
Kaie's response coincided with the look of horror on her face.
"His parents?
Where were they?"
Branwen only shrugged.
"That matter was not for me in which to delve, my child.
All I know is that this child was tormented by those in the village, and then they wondered
why he was angry, and spiteful.
He wore rags and looked as if he was starved, Kaie."
"His parents must have been poor and not able to afford anything to properly care for
him."
"Nay, The boy could see spirits, like you.
Unlike you, however, he could not tolerate the verbal barbs that were thrown at him daily.
He became bitter, and a rage built inside him.
His parents, what I know of them, were the ones that thought he was possessed."
Branwen knelt and placed a hand on the stone.
Kaie did the same, turning her head towards the Goddess.
"He is still here.
I believe I can feel him at times."
Branwen nodded in agreement.
"Yes, he usually attacks those who try to walk through here in the wee hours of the
morning and the witching hour, child.
He is here now."
She turned her head and pointed in the direction she wished Kaie to look.
Following the silent direction, Kaie saw a small boy, the spirit of one, in tattered
clothing with an angry face staring back at them.
His hair was tangled, dirty as was the rest of him.
He walked toward Kaie with purpose and didn't slow his pace until he stood less than a foot
from her.
The voice that issued from the boy was fraught with anger and hurt.
Kaie was hit with waves of sadness and hurt.
The anger within the boy was there, but not as strong as the other emotions.
"What are you doing here?
No one comes to visit me."
Kaie turned so that her whole body faced the boy.
"I am here to help you."
There was no nervousness in her voice.
Branwen only watched.
"No one can help me.
They put me her to forget about me.
Nobody wants or loves me."
A sad smile crept across his face.
"They ridiculed you, thought you possessed.
They are cruel to me as well."
"I know.
I have seen you in the village.
I have heard what they say to you and that they throw things at you as they did me.
What I do not understand is how you are not angry with them.
Why do you not…"
The boy was reaching for the right words in the silence.
Kaie continued his thought, "Throw things back?
Tear up their possessions?
Break into their homes as you did?"
The boy only stared at her, waiting for an answer.
"Because, in my heart, I know they do not understand me, and what I can do.
They are afraid of what they do not know.
They have seen the Druids come to my home, and the villagers, being Catholic, think I
am consorting with demons.
They know not of what I am, or what I wish for myself."
"Your parents?"
"I have none.
They passed when I was fourteen."
The boy's eyes grew wide, but only by a hair, enough for Kaie to feel the surprise.
"So, you can do what you wish, and you choose to stay there and be… be… yelled at?
That makes no sense."
"I wish to prove to them that Druids do not call demons.
That is why I stay.
My calmness in the face of all the ridicule is to show them that they have nothing to
fear, and that I do not fear them."
The boy sat across from Kaie, puzzled.
She was feeling curiosity from the boy, the other feelings were still there, but fading
a small bit.
"So, I should have not done anything?
I don't understand.
They were mean to me, and threw things at me.
I was just to stand there and let it happen?"
Kaie nodded, "Yes, you see, in doing as you did, you only made them be more hurtful
to you.
There are days that the people of the village leave me be, and do not yell at me."
The boy looked astonished.
"Really?"
She nodded again, "They could deny bartering with me for food and materials for my clothing,
but they do not.
They could forbid me from entering their shops, but they do not.
All this, I believe is because they do not understand who I am, and what I can do, I
have not harmed them, and I believe they know that I will not.
Do you see?"
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