It is early in the tenth month and the gagaan has begun its yearly ritual of tucking in a little earlier, sinking like some great rotting orange beyond the trees and mountains to the west. The cold has begun to nip at the extremities of anyone out of doors, and paces have quickened from the languid stroll of summer.

And me, with no winter jacket.

I love the chill, the cold bright nights as clear and cutting as an axe in the brainpan. I love watching cold puffs of breath climb up through the air like cigarette smoke. I love cocoa and tea with a side of horror story, curled on the couch with my lover. I love baking to keep this little duplex warm and the need to wear socks with my pajamas. Though there is no snow fall in this asphalt forest, no subzero temperatures, no dzisk’w bleeding out in the fresh powder of 2 am, the feeling of approaching winter is the same.

The part that eats at me is the lonesome feeling that I’ve had since moving down here. The feeling of homesickness that crawls from my brain to my toes, twisting my guts on the way and making me feel fit to shit barbed wire. The stars don’t shine as brightly here, and the face of the pale frozen Goddess burning the midnight lamp is strangled by pollution.

And me, with no winter kinaakat.

How I miss trudging silently through snow on yearly hunts, killing knife drawn and ready, parka pulled around my face. The taimaigiakaman, the great necessity, killing the giant bony kneed Mother to feed our family. I miss feeling the last pant of berry sweet breath on my face as the throat is cut, watching the steaming entrails spill onto the blanket of white as we unzip the body. Oh, Great Mother. I have eaten your warm raw flesh a thousand times, I have bathed in your blood, I have danced the crazed dance of sadness and thanks at the campfire, I have offered your head back to the earth. Thank you, Mother.

How I miss my home and the good smells of wood smoke, patchouli and pine. I miss the 20 hours of darkness each day, the crazy cabin fever growing like a cancer in the seventh month of yees. That is something I never thought I would miss, the cabin fever. So bad one year that my father went half mad, chopping the phone into pieces and bellowing like a starving s’ukkasduk, foam flying from the snarl of his mouth. Thank dikaankaawu for the sunlight. Thank the raven, the insatiable curiosity that brought daylight to my people. I miss my home.

And me, with no winter coat.

It was the year 2009 when Christianity was found to be the worlds largest, and most evil cult. Indeed, Jesus did have his Second Coming, but only because the Christians dabbled in necromancy and brought him back to life. They inserted Him into a willing vessel and then shaped the body to look like Jesus (what a bloody mess that was). The Goddess (or Kali in Hinduism), hearing about this, waits until Winter Solstice to bring back Pan (or Cernunnos in Celtic mythology), the Horned God. Upon coming back to life, Pan sees the corruption Jesus and His followers have caused, and seeing himself unfit for fighting, commands a mech be built for him. Not to be outdone, Jesus also has a mech (another picture representative) built for him. These mechs stood no higher than fifteen feet.

The precursor of the battle to come, religions of all over are claiming this will be Armageddon, Ragnarök, or Apocalypse. Indeed, things seemed to be so, as the Legio Mariae from around the world start setting up series of secret meetings. Known only as a prayer group of lay people for Mary, the Legio Mariae was really a secret organization, or secret army, of Mary, the so-called mother of God. Things are looking grim for the world as Jesus dethrones the Pope for being a manifestation of Satan, and is indeed found in league with Pan (secret memoirs of the Pope reveal this). While the Christians had their Legio Mariae, various organized circles of people organize under Pan. The Valkyries came down from Valhalla riding their wolves to assist in the confrontation. The Moirae and Nornir made themselves known, warning people of the consequences of their actions, and confirming the belief that the end of the world would come. Even those who follow the Right-Hand Path of Satanism align themselves with Pan, while those of the Left-Hand Path sit back, hoping that the gods will destroy themselves, so that they may come to power.

In a startling revelation, the world was found to be the Yggdrasil. A space anomaly had been preventing satellites, space stations, and humans from seeing it as it was. The three Nornir were assassinated by three Legion priests. Apparently this assassination wasn’t planned, and Jesus executed them publicly for disobedience. With the Nornir dead, the Yggdrasil no longer had it’s caretakers, and began wilting, causing apocalyptic changes in all nine worlds. This brought about many of the “signs” from the Book of Revelation in the Bible, and Jesus took this to his advantage, whipping the Legio Mariae into a frenzy.

It seemed that the Book of Revelation was really coming true: the Seven Seals seemed to have been open, for Jesus had returned and the world was in disorder. Water was contaminated from objects falling from the sky, armies of at least 200 million were assembled, the world is simultaneously witnessing the events transpiring, and the Followers of Pan were bearing various forms of the pentacle with Gaia and Pan standing above, and the Euphrates River became barren.

And so the onset of war commenced. Jesus, whom was in Israel with the Legio Mariae and other followers, rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, and was to help prepare defensive tactics. Jesus proclaimed that they would crush Pan and his army, and then rebuild Jerusalem. Jesus told the Israeli generals that nuclear weapons would be hidden and used only as a last resort. Little did they know that Jesus had other plans…

Pan climbed into his mech and proceeded to give orders from there. Slowly he marched forward, flanked on both sides by the Valkyries, the witches and other followers not far behind. They were leaving from their main base of operations somewhere near Giza, Egypt, and heading towards Israel. Pan’s plan was to have their first wave of offense be fast and hard, with the second wave hitting as the first one let up, much like large waves hammering a beach during a storm.

The night that Pan and his army camped just outside of Israel, Pan dissapeared from the encampment unnoticed, and in his mech. Jesus also left Jerusalem in his mech unnoticed. They both headed towards the northern tip of the Sinai desert, and met up in a hidden encampment they had arranged many days earlier through the Pope as their messenger. The Pope greeted them as they climbed out of their mechs. It was his last action. With a nod from Jesus, Pan and him dispatched the Pope rather messily. With a grin, Jesus donned the Pope hat and strutted around pretending to take his place. Both laughed, and Jesus threw the hat aside, and they entered the cave-like building.

They knocked back a few beers while reminiscing about old times, and just after the deepest of night, they planned a grand battle. After they agreed on their plan, they hastily made their way back to their respective camps, still unnoticed. They roused their armies and prepared for their first encounter, which was to be around noon that day.

The first wave of Pan’s militia was slaughtered, and the second made some headway. That night the third wave hit, breaking through the defenses Jesus had to hastily try to fill in. There was no rest that night, as the fourth and fifth waves pummelled through the Legio Mariae’s lines. The air around them was rather odd. There was gunfire and screaming as you would expect from a war, but on either side you could hear chanting. On the side of Jesus, you could hear prayers to God and Mary, and the various saints. On the other side, you could hear spells of protection and invocation of the powers of the Fae, and chants to the Goddess. This gave the battlefield an eerie sound and atmosphere all together. It was as if you could feel, and almost see, spirits of the dead still battling on and protecting their bretheren.

For seven days it was like this. The Legio Mariae was able to push back Pan’s army, and hold it’s original place, though it would surge back and forth repeatedly. On the seventh night, both armies rested, tending to the massive amounts of wounded men and women. The eighth morning found Jesus and Pan in their mechs, ready to duke it out. Both sides of the war went to a standstill, but the chanting and praying had resumed. Nothing but the sounds of mech moving and the eerie chants of Christians and Pagans mixing was heard; the effect was otherworldly. As they stepped closer to each other, starting to circle in a fighters stance, Yggdrasil convulsed, sending shockwaves through the ground and air, knocking those standing up, down, and nearly causing the mechs to buckle and fall. Trees were uprooted and died instantly, withering into nothing. The color of nature started fading rapidly from everything living, even some people. Screams rang through the air, piercing the chanting, and sending millions of people into a frantic run. They ran as if they could escape. Whether it was the Christian God or Gaia who was doing it nobody knew, but those who fled from the battlefield were struck down in various ways. Some were electrocuted, some drowned in their own bile, while others just ceased to function. And yet the circling of the mechs continued.

Never once did either mech move other than to circle the other. Overhead the cries of dragons could be heard. Eastern dragons, Western dragons, African, Norse, Celtic, all of them seemed to come alive. Creatures emerged from fissures in the ground that had never been seen in recorded history, only in myth. Chimera’s emerged, creatures that were a mesh of all living things, both majestic and not of this world. Other creatures emerged as well, hostile towards anyone and anything living. Fire rained from the sky, as did the corpses of dead, once-airborne, creatures. Everything was so chaotic that they failed to see when Jesus and Pan left the battlefield, leaving their mechs to be destroyed. They left the battlefield laughing like old pals while the world around them was destroyed.

In the end there was the shell that once was the Yggdrasil. There was no life. Everything was covered in a blanket of eternal darkness. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear.

All except the smiles of Gaia and the Christian God. All except the laughter of Pan and Jesus.

Flogging! That’s it! Society needs a good flogging!
There seems to be a breakdown in social reprisals. I say this for a few reasons, but mostly this. Most of us with children send our young impressionable offspring to public school; where in, they participate in a society that views individual spirit, forethought, and self determinism as the seeds of evil that must be stomped out like a plague against humanity.

In this Public School society our children are told that it is a crime to defend themselves or others, and that doing so is as much a negative as assaulting an unsuspecting, undeserving, and otherwise innocent classmate. This belief is affirmed by equal, simultaneous, and absolute punishment for all parties involved in a conflict. Next, we have the retribution for the crime; extricate them from the one thing that may help them in overcoming this pattern of behavior, the education they were promised, nay, that was forced upon them. Finally, diagnose them as having ADD, ADHD, PTSD or a myriad of other popular “disorders” then send them to a doctor to get medicated, because we all know that anyone who gets angry after they are told that they are “Bad” for expressing discontent for a system that holds them to the lowest common denominator of their peers and punishes them for trying to learn more than their dumbest classmate is obviously mentally disturbed and a danger to society.

The sad result of this line of thinking is an increase in drug addicted young people who have an “excuse” for poor social skills and bad behavior. In the way of our modern “Americans With Disabilities” consciousness we have a propensity to coddle anyone who is perceived to have a lesser ability than the commonly held, and erroneous, “normal person” ideal. Therefore, the person who is less than capable is given greater courtesy. Even the behavior of the flawed individual is judged, and measured by a variable compass. Furthermore, we as a society create “special needs” groups and lavish gifts and favors upon the “under privileged,” or “handicapped;” note here that we don’t dare say what we mean, we even cover our own perception with coddling gestures.

In years past we would “call a spade a spade” and “use some elbow grease” and “cut the dead wood.” Today if we cut the dead wood we are chastised for limiting someones potential, and if we call a spade a spade we are unfairly labeling, and if we use a little elbow grease to fix a problem we are ourselves labeled as “backwards” or out of touch. Where did hard work or work in general lose its luster? Have we lost our ability for rational thought? I have heard people talk about how we are living in an “enlightened” society today, but frankly, I just don’t see it. We have become dependent on the socialist ideals that have been infiltrating our nation for the last 50 years. These are the same Marxist ideals that the soviet union failed to bring to fruition.

The idea that all people are equal is founded on the principal that we all have equal opportunity. However, our modern society wants to take a literal approach to this concept and force us round pegs into the proverbial square hole. We are left two options if we intend to join in society, 1) be a large loud round peg and learn to have flexible sides so that we can “fit in,” or 2) be a small quiet round peg and leave plenty of space between our sides and the confines of the box. In contrast, I feel that we need to affect society to change. We need to return to the days of flogging those who bring harm to others. We need also to flog the lies and deception out of modern society with the lash of truth, and the whip of justice. Let the floggings begin!

She is always there when I come home. Waiting for me, curled on the sofa, sitting in my favorite chair, wearing one of my shirts, laying in our bed with spread legs beneath the blankets. Beckoning me. She listens when I tell her about my day, her hand resting on my shoulder or in mine, watching intently and genuinely interested. She doesn’t have to say a word, I know what she is thinking.

That kind of thing makes me think she is the perfect woman for me. I know what she is going to say, so that she barely has to speak. She knows what I want, when I want it. She never asks questions if something seems odd, she lets me explain it in my own time, or not at all.

Everything about her is perfect.

Her skin is like cinnamon milk, her hair soft and reddish brown, as if she walked right out of my dreams. Her eyes are the perfect shade of green flecked with gold, as if I picked them out myself. The scatter of freckles on her soft cheeks are enough to make me burst into a smile every time I see them. Her body is soft and supple against mine, firm yet forgiving.

When we make love, or fuck, or play around she does exactly as I say. She stays in whatever position I put her in, no matter how painful or uncomfortable for her. It is as if she is here solely to love and to bring me pleasure, to give me satisfaction. We have done a myriad unspeakable things, and afterward she lays there in my arms as my heart beats loud, smiling up at me.

Everything about her is perfect.

She never interjects when I am speaking, never questions my decisions or my authority. She eats very little, as a lady should, and doesn’t mind when I eat some of her food for her. Since bringing her home, she hasn’t seemed to age or gain a pound, though it has been five and a half years now. I love her with all of my heart.

I know she will never leave me, and never stop loving me. The ring I put on her finger tells me that. No other woman will ever stand in the way. She knows that I go out, sometimes, to bars or titty clubs, and she doesn’t mind. She is still there when I come home, still waiting with that knowing smile. Her entire being is filled only with love for me, and while I may sleep with another woman, they are only whores compared to her perfection. She is the embodiment of all that is wholesome, and turns a blind eye to my evils.

She cost me only seven thousand dollars, and her model number is D00472. I call her Princess for short.