No one in Scotland can escape from the past.
It is everywhere, haunting like a ghost.

To a Scot, the past clings like sand to wet feet,
and is carried about as a burden.
The many ghosts are always a part of them, inescapable."
-Geddes MacGregor

They that live longest, see most.

The devil’s boots don’t creak 
-Scottish Proverbs


My father said I was the devils own wicked bairn even before I came out of the womb in the year 1622. Whenever we crossed paths, he never forgot to remind me that I had caused my own Mother’s death as she struggled to birth me. If the barely formed consciousness I was during my conception had so much as an inkling of what I would endure soon after I left that lovely nest, I would surely have screamed like the banshees and clung with all my might to remain melded to her, that we might enter the spirit world together.

Father told me that my birth had cursed Mother to be transformed into a Bean Nighie, a fairy-like creature who must wander near deserted streams and wash the blood from the grave-clothes of those who are about to die, until the time her own natural life should have ended. My father relished describing to me that these women have only one nostril, one big protruding tooth, webbed feet and long hanging breasts. It took years before I learned that it was also said that if you encountered one, and she approved of you, she might transform herself into a beautiful woman dressed in green before your very eyes. A mortal who was bold enough to sneak up to her while she was washing and suckle at her breast could claim to be her foster child, and then gain a wish from her. I spent many of my childhood years roaming through the dense forests searching for her, that I might relieve her of her plight, but to no avail. Still…the forests seemed to abound with numerous entities of other kinds who seemed just as intrigued by me as I was by them on these sojourns. Some of these I welcomed with enthusiasm, though there were also a few whose presence seemed like yet another curse to be borne. While many of my fellow villagers seemed to love to tell stories built around the existence of such creatures, I soon gleaned that my having actually claimed to know of them intimately was met with both resentment, and sometimes open scorn.

Most children did not live past the age of five in those times. To make it past 35 was considered to be an achievement in survival. I often wondered why anyone bothered to give birth at all, if the majority of one’s life was meant to be spent suffering. Five years of living would hardly be enough to make up for having cursed your own mother into existence as a Bean Nighie! Eventually I learned that to say such cynical things in mixed company might result in getting one’s ears boxed, and that the worst of such blows might come from those who appeared to have suffered the most. Apparently it was tempting the Devil not to be grateful for what little we had. The closest thing to the Devil I knew then was my father. He was actually quite wealthy, though it came from the land of an heiress he had married legally and sired children with, well before he had the occasion to casually bed my own mother.

Aye, but the mortal life I once endured is only relevant as a starting point for my eternal adventures to come. I gleaned quite early on that the mysterious netherworld that can be found just beneath the surface of what most mortal’s cling to as “real” seemed to welcome me more than this world ever had. When I am feeling exceptionally generous, I sometimes wonder now if I should have thanked my father. His cruel nature and lies possibly are what led me to see the truths that lie beneath the surface of things in this world that most others seem to miss. It is good to have a place to escape to when one needs it most.

Mine has always been a road that included fairies, kelpies, elves, dragons and sorcerers, and all those other things that float beneath the surface of the so-called modern world. I suppose one might even say that it was a fitting destiny that I ended up becoming a “vampire”, a creature that many still consider mythological to this night.

My ability to see the things that most others do not has only increased since my turning. Sometimes I am also able to communicate with such creatures now, though with varying degrees of success. Mortals and vampires may notice a tendency in me to seem distracted at certain times as a result of these visitations, and a few of the less intuitively inclined among them have unkindly described me as having “his head in the clouds”. I am actually quite capable of navigating my way through the harsher realities of life. I have sailed the high seas to distant lands as Captain of my own ship of ferocious Pirates, and can plunge a blade through the guts of those who require it with aplomb! Learning comes easily to me, despite a lack of professional schooling. When I set my mind to it, I am capable of passing myself off as a slightly eccentric, but highly cultured and refined creature of means. This can be useful when I feel the need to become involved in the affairs of the world.

My happiest times are still to be found whenever I am free to roam barefoot through the woodlands or take to the sea. I am not a true optimist, but nor am I the sour, pessimistic type. I have made my bed among the so-called dark things that I may continue to ride the sea of change for as long as this earth shall last, unfettered by the chains that seem to bind so many others to their prejudices. Is it ever still lonely? Does guilt still gnaw at my innards as it once did? Only if I stop to think too much.