She awoke in the dark. A dark sky. She looked down at her hands. They were milky. She stretched each finger, inspected blood red fingernails. She reached up, felt her face. It was warm. Heated. Her fingertips felt the contours, the shape.
She knew her name. Hecate. But she didn’t know the body. The body was a stranger. Her body was like a passerby, something fleeting, ghostly. She could still sense the bodiless. They were here too. But they were silent, quieted, She probed out. Yes. They were there but she felt them as if, like her body, they were not hers.
I am Hecate. She thought. Of the Titans.
Hecate stood. She ran her hands through red woven silk. She straightened her back, felt a popping in her spine.
I must think carefully on this.
A wetness settled on her face. She felt it drip down, warm against her skin. She raised her hands slowly, collected the wetness onto a fingertip. The wetness came from her nose as well. She sniffed. But the world was blurry now, Hecate wiped at her sockets. She squinted at tawny leaves that had collected around her, on the ground. She wondered how she’d found herself there. Had she been taken? Staring at the moon, she heard howling. First one or two than a whole chorus. She smiled. But there was a crashing sound as well. She tasted something on her tongue. The orange and brown tree leaves were just an assemblage of many. Perhaps ten to twelve large trees had all deposited leaves in a disarray.
Hecate looked past them and saw the dark churning. A rolling rhythm with beads of white on the top crash outward, downward. The ground underneath her feet suddenly felt flaccid. Hecate shivered. She watched the ocean waves blast onto the shore. She felt as if they were polishing the surface where they crashed. She looked at the glossy sand and walked out to it. She knelt. It’s cold! She looked right then left then right again and spied a pier a short distance away. She felt a pull towards it. She turned to stare at it. It was speckled in lights. From where she stood, they were tiny orbs. They reminded her of stars, like the ones above her head. Or perhaps fixed fireflies frozen in time. She wanted to reach out to them, hold them in her fingers. But even more than that, she wanted to taste the ocean.
Hecate slipped out of the sheer white dress she had woken up in. She felt it fall down her back and onto her feet. She heard a whistle from somewhere close and observed a man also on the water’s edge. He stared at her, his head slowly shaking.
Hecate’s attention went back to the water. Its icy grip at her ankles, she waded in. A crash sent the taste of salt onto her tongue. She knew the current was strong, already she was shoved this way and that. She rocked as the waves came in. She jumped, headfirst, felt the violent jolt as air was forced out of her lungs. The wave rolled onto her, she felt it like a cutting palpitation on her back and legs. She stood in neck high water. She gasped, danced back to the water’s edge.
Again Hecate felt the pull. She glanced at the lights to her left and swung left, picking up her dress in stride, headed towards the pull. Hecate plunged down the beach at almost a gallop. She stopped to slip the dress back, although couldn’t really say why. Her nakedness didn’t matter. She found after awhile, her legs were tired. They trembled and she had to sit. But still that pull called out to her.
What is it? She thought.
Hecate stared up at the full moon and began an incantation. Her wet hair in her face, she brushed it smoothly back with a shaking hand. She needed the heat. The water had numbed her.
She spoke aloud, forcefully, but quickly realized that her words were having no effect. Nothing was manifesting to her will. Her words might as well have been meaningless. Oh no. She tried again, then again. Nothing. Hecate hesitated, probed outward to the bodiless. They were there but faint. They would come but were powerless? Was that true? She felt the power in her lingering. A potential as yet untapped but couldn’t call out to it fully. It was as if her magic was only a vestigial spark of what it had been. She wanted to cry out, rage at the churning black in front of her. She seethed through gritted teeth. The bodiless were apathetic. Their shapes darker than the surrounding night. They waited. What are you waiting for? Help me! But like her magic, the ancient ones existed in abeyance.
Hecate found herself breathing hard and tried to calm herself. She looked at the pier, it was closer now. She could be underneath it in a short time. Soon, she looked up at cross beams and smelled rotting wood. Above, she heard others. Their voices echoed off the girder, booming down.
Hecate felt the pull again. It tugged at her mind. It was like an itch. But she was here. She was at the pier, still it pulled.
“You shouldn’t be here.” A voice said in the dark.
Hecate startled, she hadn’t noticed the man sitting on one of the giant beams that support the pier. He dipped his head in measured civility. His eyes never left her though. Even in the dark, she felt them on her.
“I’m allowed passage anywhere.” She said.
“Nah. I don’t think so. Not wearing that.”
Hecate looked down at the dress that clung to her wet skin. She saw the breasts pulling the cotton tight, her pubic area doing the same. The man took a step forward. He tried to smile, rubbed at his lips. He was of a middle age, perhaps half a century. He had dark, glittery eyes and a hard, lined face. His wiry frame gave him the appearance of a cricket. But she didn’t want this one to chirp too loud.
As he got closer, Hecate backed further into the dark, toward the adjacent beam opposite to where he had been sitting. She walked back deliberately, turning to her left and then left again. The man followed, as if he were hunting.
“You shouldn’t have come down here.” She heard him say. “It’s not safe.”
“What is it you want?”
Hecate ducked behind another beam, crouched and took a few paces back toward where he had approached her. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward. Again her mind was pulled by that strange sensation to head further down the water’s edge. To go south.
A hand came down and gripped her by the hair. Hecate was thrown back onto a beam. She felt warmth where her skull had cracked against the wooden support.
“Fucking bitch!” The man punched her hard in the stomach,then laid atop her, his hand on her mouth. “You dirty fucking hooker. You meeting a John here? That why you came fucking naked?”
Hecate squirmed underneath him, felt hot breath on her face. His other hand on her breasts, he gyrated his hips into her, grinding against her till she felt him hard against her inner thigh.
“Don’t you make a fucking sound.” He whispered. But it was too late. Hecate smashed the rock she had been holding into his face. He screamed as blood spurted from his nose. Hecate felt it spray onto her face and tasted it on her lips. She brought the rock up and thrashed him on the side of the head. He toppled back, against the pier beam and gurgled something incoherent. She brought the rock down again. Then again.
Hecate leaped toward him, strode silently to stand within kissing distance then brought the rock down multiple times in quick succession. It was a savage array of blows.
As she looked down at the mess at her feet, she felt it again. South. Hecate bent close until she was at the man’s ear. “Bodiless.” She said quietly. “I need answers.”
She sat him upright, his wet, glazed eyes stared up towards the bottom of the pier. Hecate frowned. She turned his head towards her.
“Can you hear me?”
She waited. The man didn’t stir. Hecate stared down at him, chewed at her lip.
“Bodiless!” She snapped. “You will liaise with me!”
Again she waited. Something was wrong. All of her gifts had waned. They felt faint, just out of reach. The man coughed. Blood splayed out in a mist. Hecate jerked his chin toward her.
“What has happened? Is this the Titans seeking retribution?”
The corpse in front of her gurgled softly. His mouth moving faintly. Hecate bent her hear to his mouth. “Tell me departed, what is happening?”
The man’s mouth widened as if he was going to take a bite of an apple than a voice that hadn’t been his in life uttered: “You are in front of the veil.”
Hecate gasped and stood quickly. Of course. Why hadn’t she discerned it? Or had she and was merely experiencing mortality like a newborn?
She looked south, felt the itch come back. South.
Hecate went out to the water’s edge and washed her hands and feet. She ducked her head for good measure. The veil is asunder. She thought. Slowly, in ankle deep ocean water and under a bright moon, the goddess Hecate began to walk south.
She knew her name. Hecate. But she didn’t know the body. The body was a stranger. Her body was like a passerby, something fleeting, ghostly. She could still sense the bodiless. They were here too. But they were silent, quieted, She probed out. Yes. They were there but she felt them as if, like her body, they were not hers.
I am Hecate. She thought. Of the Titans.
Hecate stood. She ran her hands through red woven silk. She straightened her back, felt a popping in her spine.
I must think carefully on this.
A wetness settled on her face. She felt it drip down, warm against her skin. She raised her hands slowly, collected the wetness onto a fingertip. The wetness came from her nose as well. She sniffed. But the world was blurry now, Hecate wiped at her sockets. She squinted at tawny leaves that had collected around her, on the ground. She wondered how she’d found herself there. Had she been taken? Staring at the moon, she heard howling. First one or two than a whole chorus. She smiled. But there was a crashing sound as well. She tasted something on her tongue. The orange and brown tree leaves were just an assemblage of many. Perhaps ten to twelve large trees had all deposited leaves in a disarray.
Hecate looked past them and saw the dark churning. A rolling rhythm with beads of white on the top crash outward, downward. The ground underneath her feet suddenly felt flaccid. Hecate shivered. She watched the ocean waves blast onto the shore. She felt as if they were polishing the surface where they crashed. She looked at the glossy sand and walked out to it. She knelt. It’s cold! She looked right then left then right again and spied a pier a short distance away. She felt a pull towards it. She turned to stare at it. It was speckled in lights. From where she stood, they were tiny orbs. They reminded her of stars, like the ones above her head. Or perhaps fixed fireflies frozen in time. She wanted to reach out to them, hold them in her fingers. But even more than that, she wanted to taste the ocean.
Hecate slipped out of the sheer white dress she had woken up in. She felt it fall down her back and onto her feet. She heard a whistle from somewhere close and observed a man also on the water’s edge. He stared at her, his head slowly shaking.
Hecate’s attention went back to the water. Its icy grip at her ankles, she waded in. A crash sent the taste of salt onto her tongue. She knew the current was strong, already she was shoved this way and that. She rocked as the waves came in. She jumped, headfirst, felt the violent jolt as air was forced out of her lungs. The wave rolled onto her, she felt it like a cutting palpitation on her back and legs. She stood in neck high water. She gasped, danced back to the water’s edge.
Again Hecate felt the pull. She glanced at the lights to her left and swung left, picking up her dress in stride, headed towards the pull. Hecate plunged down the beach at almost a gallop. She stopped to slip the dress back, although couldn’t really say why. Her nakedness didn’t matter. She found after awhile, her legs were tired. They trembled and she had to sit. But still that pull called out to her.
What is it? She thought.
Hecate stared up at the full moon and began an incantation. Her wet hair in her face, she brushed it smoothly back with a shaking hand. She needed the heat. The water had numbed her.
She spoke aloud, forcefully, but quickly realized that her words were having no effect. Nothing was manifesting to her will. Her words might as well have been meaningless. Oh no. She tried again, then again. Nothing. Hecate hesitated, probed outward to the bodiless. They were there but faint. They would come but were powerless? Was that true? She felt the power in her lingering. A potential as yet untapped but couldn’t call out to it fully. It was as if her magic was only a vestigial spark of what it had been. She wanted to cry out, rage at the churning black in front of her. She seethed through gritted teeth. The bodiless were apathetic. Their shapes darker than the surrounding night. They waited. What are you waiting for? Help me! But like her magic, the ancient ones existed in abeyance.
Hecate found herself breathing hard and tried to calm herself. She looked at the pier, it was closer now. She could be underneath it in a short time. Soon, she looked up at cross beams and smelled rotting wood. Above, she heard others. Their voices echoed off the girder, booming down.
Hecate felt the pull again. It tugged at her mind. It was like an itch. But she was here. She was at the pier, still it pulled.
“You shouldn’t be here.” A voice said in the dark.
Hecate startled, she hadn’t noticed the man sitting on one of the giant beams that support the pier. He dipped his head in measured civility. His eyes never left her though. Even in the dark, she felt them on her.
“I’m allowed passage anywhere.” She said.
“Nah. I don’t think so. Not wearing that.”
Hecate looked down at the dress that clung to her wet skin. She saw the breasts pulling the cotton tight, her pubic area doing the same. The man took a step forward. He tried to smile, rubbed at his lips. He was of a middle age, perhaps half a century. He had dark, glittery eyes and a hard, lined face. His wiry frame gave him the appearance of a cricket. But she didn’t want this one to chirp too loud.
As he got closer, Hecate backed further into the dark, toward the adjacent beam opposite to where he had been sitting. She walked back deliberately, turning to her left and then left again. The man followed, as if he were hunting.
“You shouldn’t have come down here.” She heard him say. “It’s not safe.”
“What is it you want?”
Hecate ducked behind another beam, crouched and took a few paces back toward where he had approached her. On her hands and knees, she crawled forward. Again her mind was pulled by that strange sensation to head further down the water’s edge. To go south.
A hand came down and gripped her by the hair. Hecate was thrown back onto a beam. She felt warmth where her skull had cracked against the wooden support.
“Fucking bitch!” The man punched her hard in the stomach,then laid atop her, his hand on her mouth. “You dirty fucking hooker. You meeting a John here? That why you came fucking naked?”
Hecate squirmed underneath him, felt hot breath on her face. His other hand on her breasts, he gyrated his hips into her, grinding against her till she felt him hard against her inner thigh.
“Don’t you make a fucking sound.” He whispered. But it was too late. Hecate smashed the rock she had been holding into his face. He screamed as blood spurted from his nose. Hecate felt it spray onto her face and tasted it on her lips. She brought the rock up and thrashed him on the side of the head. He toppled back, against the pier beam and gurgled something incoherent. She brought the rock down again. Then again.
Hecate leaped toward him, strode silently to stand within kissing distance then brought the rock down multiple times in quick succession. It was a savage array of blows.
As she looked down at the mess at her feet, she felt it again. South. Hecate bent close until she was at the man’s ear. “Bodiless.” She said quietly. “I need answers.”
She sat him upright, his wet, glazed eyes stared up towards the bottom of the pier. Hecate frowned. She turned his head towards her.
“Can you hear me?”
She waited. The man didn’t stir. Hecate stared down at him, chewed at her lip.
“Bodiless!” She snapped. “You will liaise with me!”
Again she waited. Something was wrong. All of her gifts had waned. They felt faint, just out of reach. The man coughed. Blood splayed out in a mist. Hecate jerked his chin toward her.
“What has happened? Is this the Titans seeking retribution?”
The corpse in front of her gurgled softly. His mouth moving faintly. Hecate bent her hear to his mouth. “Tell me departed, what is happening?”
The man’s mouth widened as if he was going to take a bite of an apple than a voice that hadn’t been his in life uttered: “You are in front of the veil.”
Hecate gasped and stood quickly. Of course. Why hadn’t she discerned it? Or had she and was merely experiencing mortality like a newborn?
She looked south, felt the itch come back. South.
Hecate went out to the water’s edge and washed her hands and feet. She ducked her head for good measure. The veil is asunder. She thought. Slowly, in ankle deep ocean water and under a bright moon, the goddess Hecate began to walk south.
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