Papa Bois

As it turned out, ours wasn’t the only fascinating story of the supernatural entering into the folklore consciousness of the island and as I knew only too well there was more truth to these stories than anyone would care to know.

There were many beings that possessed varying degrees of mysticism and mischief, but few the rare combination of power and human disregard most of my kind owned.

I, of course, had heard the stories of the old man with hooves for feet and leaves growing from his beard that lived in the forest. That he appeared in different forms, sometimes a deer other times an old man in tattered clothes warning hunters and others to be kind to the land and animals sometimes with quite dire consequences. These whispers were not just from campers and drunken hunters but from other soucouyants as well.

I was on a long walk, alone, into the lush forest along the northern range of the country when I had my first encounter with the old man of the forest. That he felt comfortable enough to present himself to me in his natural form put me at ease. I wish I could say that I heard hooved approach, but that would be a lie. I did sense his presence though and when he revealed himself I simply stood and studied him for a long time.

“You are different from the others.” He said with a smile that made me feel welcome in his presence. “I have studied you from afar for some time.”

“And I have heard much about you.” I said smiling myself.

“You are sad.” He said growing serious. “You have lost much, suffered much. I can help you. Your life, your efforts are valuable.” He paused and smiled again and now there was compassion in his eyes. “Come, walk with me Nicholas. We have much to discuss.”

“What should I call you?” I asked walking towards him.

“Call me Papa.” He said as he turned and I followed him into the dark forest.

Absence & Longing

Since Ngozi’s death and Richards departure I have experienced a deep sense of loss, one might even call it depression. What makes life so meaningful is its finite quality. Death is supposed to be an end for all of us but there is always new life to carry our traditions and improve on our own legacies, ideally.

This is the natural order that my kind ignores and the result is often time spent in the company of those you are loathe to call friends or moments with dear companions that pass too soon.

My existence is cursed and yet I am either too vein or respectful of my life, if I can call it that, to put a deliberate end to my circumstance. Still, I find myself focused on my existence and its benefit to others. But at the core even that is a selfish consideration born of my longing for companionship.

Louis moved into Richard’s house as a caretaker, which also gave me the space he sensed I needed. Things were also changing on the island and there was evil deeds being perpetrated by others besides our kind. It was fast becoming a complicated time in need of balance. I tried to use the time to pull myself and my thoughts together because I sensed that a fresh test was not far off…

Beginnings

When death comes so easily to those you come into contact with too many circumstances present an opportunity for beginnings. I struggle against my own nature to make the most of these opportunities to avoid this familiar path.

For a long time after Ngozi passed it was difficult to feel anything beyond loss. Our relationship was far from perfect but it was a wonderful constant to know that she was there and I felt a deep sense of purpose ensuring that she was as well as she could be. For as long as I knew her I tried to look out for her and in many ways I felt like I had failed her.

Still, on that final night when it seems she knew better than we did how close to the end she was she thanked me for all that I had done. Her life she had said had not been without consequence, but that she had a life to work on and make something of would not have been were it not for my intervention and she was grateful.

She had made peace with Richard and had managed to mend the broken fences between all of us in one final act of compassion and this wonderful gift was not lost on me. While it would be sometime before I felt comfortable around my own kind once more, her actions had only strengthened my resolve. I felt an even deeper sense of responsibility to look out for those who were ill prepared to protect themselves from my kind. With her dying breath she guaranteed that I would do the same for others.

Louis saw my need for distance and took command of the coven eventually finding a new base of operations. He was always better suited and prepared to lead our kind and I was grateful that he was ready. It would only be for a time he said and we all consider you our leader, they always would.

Richard had found his wife’s final tormentor before he left the island and so had experienced a deep sense of accomplishment that did little to balance his profound sense of loss. But I thought that in time he had a good chance at a life, although I suspected that he too felt a deeper obligation to the memories of those he lost…