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Becoming The Druid
There are many secrets in this world, some hiding in plane sight others hidden to all but a few. I am one of them...
I was just a small boy, no older than nine, when my sixth sense kicked in. It started small at first, like getting uneasy feelings and hearing voices when and where there shouldn't be any. As time progressed it got worse, now full apparitions and voices clear as day now raging in my ears, all wanting to be heard, but there's always been one, one more powerful than the rest...
I tried pleading with my parents to make it stop or to find someone who can, but all they thought was that I was going crazy and had me committed at the age of only thirteen. Alone in my cell like room, the voices and visions continued despite the heavy stream of medication to the point of night terrors of horned beasts with wings of leather, yet still one voice remained clear, telling me to fight, that if I listened to his voice and his alone I would survive...what scared me about him was he looked and sounded like me, but much older, wiser, but a certain air of anger hung about him that I would later learn to fear and oppriciate. Finally I was released, but not the same inside.
The figure that mimicked me shows me things now unlike anything before, things I remember and yet it was far too long ago to have been me. I felt his joy as he welcomed a child into the world, the fear as men in red moved closer to his village while the king stood by and watched, and I felt his pain and anger as he watch the red men butcher his family.
My attitude now matched his, a cold detachment from those around me, and sometimes he would take control and drive my actions, and soon all those I once held close now seemed distant and irrelevant as I began to become aware of the true nature of the world, to its evil, since I now knew it was the dead that spoke to me, and they all have stories. As I aged, I began to change as children do, though my time seemed to be rushed, and before I knew it I towered over my family and friends and was built rather stout compared to my companions and family, but still they seemed distant and alien to me, except for my middle brother Leroy who was cursed like me, and we found solace in each other, even the other me. Then one day in my junior year of high school, my world changed forever. I met a girl named Natalie who seemed to radiate goodness, light, and love, and she was like me and my brother, only her family took th time to teach her to control it and use it to my advantage, cause sometimes the dead carry messages for me to give others, and some bring warnings. With her, my world got brighter, I started reconnecting with those I pushed away, and even the other me found comfort in her presence, her gentle touch reminding him of his lost love...
Then one night, he showed me something that I couldn't tell if it was past, present, or future but it woke me from a dead sleep. It was a crash, someone got hurt, and a woman died but I woke up before I could see who it was or what caused the accident but needless to say I didn't go back to sleep, now far to shocked to.
The next day after school, I was driving us to a friend's house for a after school smoke session and sleep over when a deer ran infront of us and I went into oncoming traffic and kissed a semi...
I awoke three months later in the hospital, every bone in my body either either broke or on the mend, and while my vision swam into focus I could have swore I saw Natalie there, but when I could see clearly I realized that I was alone. The doctor came in about thirty minutes later and was happy to see i was awake and explained what happened, but when I asked about Natalie his expression became one of sorrow and remorse, and I knew, I knew my love had passed, only to be confirmed by the doctors words and the hint of he perfume I got her for Valentines Day. I cried for days, till finally I had no more tears to cry, then a cold feeling set in, and soon all emotions became alien to me...
Three days later I was discharged on bed rest till my legs and arms finally healed, but my face was left scared by glass and metal shards, and soon my parents decided I need to start wearing a mask. As the time passed, the other me who I named Joker for his twisted mind and sence of humor became my only company along with the dead and forgotten souls who hadn't passed on. Then one day I realized that I had a purpose. I can see and hear the dead, so now I must tell their stories so that maybe one day they will find peace. While my heart is gone and my mind is divided, I stay here in my fortress of solitude, letting the dead speak.
So there you go, my origins. Though not all details are added, We must keep some things about our life private now mustn't we?
© The Druid
I was just a small boy, no older than nine, when my sixth sense kicked in. It started small at first, like getting uneasy feelings and hearing voices when and where there shouldn't be any. As time progressed it got worse, now full apparitions and voices clear as day now raging in my ears, all wanting to be heard, but there's always been one, one more powerful than the rest...
I tried pleading with my parents to make it stop or to find someone who can, but all they thought was that I was going crazy and had me committed at the age of only thirteen. Alone in my cell like room, the voices and visions continued despite the heavy stream of medication to the point of night terrors of horned beasts with wings of leather, yet still one voice remained clear, telling me to fight, that if I listened to his voice and his alone I would survive...what scared me about him was he looked and sounded like me, but much older, wiser, but a certain air of anger hung about him that I would later learn to fear and oppriciate. Finally I was released, but not the same inside.
The figure that mimicked me shows me things now unlike anything before, things I remember and yet it was far too long ago to have been me. I felt his joy as he welcomed a child into the world, the fear as men in red moved closer to his village while the king stood by and watched, and I felt his pain and anger as he watch the red men butcher his family.
My attitude now matched his, a cold detachment from those around me, and sometimes he would take control and drive my actions, and soon all those I once held close now seemed distant and irrelevant as I began to become aware of the true nature of the world, to its evil, since I now knew it was the dead that spoke to me, and they all have stories. As I aged, I began to change as children do, though my time seemed to be rushed, and before I knew it I towered over my family and friends and was built rather stout compared to my companions and family, but still they seemed distant and alien to me, except for my middle brother Leroy who was cursed like me, and we found solace in each other, even the other me. Then one day in my junior year of high school, my world changed forever. I met a girl named Natalie who seemed to radiate goodness, light, and love, and she was like me and my brother, only her family took th time to teach her to control it and use it to my advantage, cause sometimes the dead carry messages for me to give others, and some bring warnings. With her, my world got brighter, I started reconnecting with those I pushed away, and even the other me found comfort in her presence, her gentle touch reminding him of his lost love...
Then one night, he showed me something that I couldn't tell if it was past, present, or future but it woke me from a dead sleep. It was a crash, someone got hurt, and a woman died but I woke up before I could see who it was or what caused the accident but needless to say I didn't go back to sleep, now far to shocked to.
The next day after school, I was driving us to a friend's house for a after school smoke session and sleep over when a deer ran infront of us and I went into oncoming traffic and kissed a semi...
I awoke three months later in the hospital, every bone in my body either either broke or on the mend, and while my vision swam into focus I could have swore I saw Natalie there, but when I could see clearly I realized that I was alone. The doctor came in about thirty minutes later and was happy to see i was awake and explained what happened, but when I asked about Natalie his expression became one of sorrow and remorse, and I knew, I knew my love had passed, only to be confirmed by the doctors words and the hint of he perfume I got her for Valentines Day. I cried for days, till finally I had no more tears to cry, then a cold feeling set in, and soon all emotions became alien to me...
Three days later I was discharged on bed rest till my legs and arms finally healed, but my face was left scared by glass and metal shards, and soon my parents decided I need to start wearing a mask. As the time passed, the other me who I named Joker for his twisted mind and sence of humor became my only company along with the dead and forgotten souls who hadn't passed on. Then one day I realized that I had a purpose. I can see and hear the dead, so now I must tell their stories so that maybe one day they will find peace. While my heart is gone and my mind is divided, I stay here in my fortress of solitude, letting the dead speak.
So there you go, my origins. Though not all details are added, We must keep some things about our life private now mustn't we?
© The Druid
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