My grandfather, a member of the Wabanaki tribe, was the first to tell us about the things that haunt Solomon Island. We didn't believe him, not in the beginning. Not until he showed us evidence.
A thousand winters ago, he told us, our people were visited by warriors from across the great sea - where the morning light breaks. They arrived in long ships, carried by wind and destiny, and they arrived just in time to help the People of the Dawn fight a great enemy serving the dark spirit of the mountains. The Darkness War was won, at great loss to all, but evil wasn't vanquished completely. Some of the darkness remained behind when the outsiders left; some was already here since before the mountains, buried deep, sleeping; and some came crawling back into the light, stirred by the scent of death.
The Pale Men, my grandfather told us, followed the warriors in their long ships from the sunken city, fought on their side in the war, but they were of darkness, and when the visitors left, some of the Pale Men remained, marooned in deep water. Waiting to be called again. We didn't believe him.
He showed us.
From that day on, I never disbelieved anyone who spoke of the things that haunt our woods. From the Pale Men to the forest moths, from the Wendigo to Glooskap. From the pestilent Revenant to the legend of Jack O'Lantern. Behind every myth lies a greater truth.
I'm here to document that truth.
1 comment:
I too believe. We should meet for lunch to discuss what we know.
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