Chapter 1625 – 1625

Authors note: If you have read the first post, you will know the following is part of a series of letters and documents I uncovered in my grandparents attic. It appears to be the darker, original version of a story from my childhood. Not only is this not the wholesome, “Disney-esque” story I was familiar with, and is backed up by these pieces of history.

I will update what I uncover when I get through the translating some of it.

A memoir by Minister Benjamin Chase: August 17th, 1625

One the eve of the nineteenth wedding anniversary of Angelica and I, is with great pride that I write how strong we have made this colony, as we grew closer to bringing my vison of Awesiaki to the new world.

Over eighteen years, we have grown from a modest one hundred and fourteen souls to a grand four hundred and seventy five, and we continue to grow with more people being drawn to join my flock, and more people are born amongst us.

In those eighteen years, Angelica’s spirit grew more warm and lively. With Greeshawn in our lives, it seems she finally was able to heal, both inside and out, and forgave herself for what she did to Edith.

“I promised my sister I would live for her.” She told me at the name Greeshawn started to walk “Our son would live for her. She did not sacrifice herself for nothing, and Greeshawn would be her legacy. My only regret is that Edith cannot see Greeshawn, and what became of him.”

“I know for a fact, she is. For she never truly left us.”

True to my many promises to the Lord, I aim to convert the unsaved to the banner of Christ, and take further pride in my success.

And true to the word of the people of this new world, this land has truly been blessed by the Holy Spirit. It provides us not only with fertile, unfailing, soil, that overpowers even salt; not only do the rivers and forests provide us with animals to live off this land; but fifteen years ago, our farmers have uncovered gold beneath the fields.

We have made our living off of hunting, fishing, farming, and now mining, for which we trade and share with other colonies. We provide the gold not for ourselves, but to support and help build developing colonies. Some fools, make build their house on sand. Those who are wise build their home on rock. But the Land of the Holy Spirit will be built on a foundation of gold.

I explained this to my son Greeshawn, but like many of my teachings, they just barely reach out to him. He started asking me at age seven, why we don’t keep the gold ?

“You told me, that we found this land and all upon it. That gold is belongs to us, how can we make God’s kingdom ?” He’d say.

I tell him “We are to follow the example of our Lord. We are not to think about what belongs to us, or what we can take. The treasures of God’s Kingdom are what he gives and shares.”

“Did our Lord have a castle ?” He’d ask sometimes.

I answer “No.”

“Did he rule over his land ?”

Once again, I answer “No.”

“Did he keep his riches ? Did he takeover other kingdoms ? Overthrow other kings and lords and kill those who hated him ?”

When he asked this I was at a loss of words “Heavens no! Did you not hear me ? Our Lord taught us to follow his example; not to take, but to give.”

“Did our Lord wear a crown ?”

“Of thorns, when he was killed.”

“How was he king ?” Greeshawn asked.

I didn’t hold these words against him. He was but a child. I instead told my story of my own humility.

“Greeshawn, did I ever tell you about your Uncle Alexander?” I ask.

“No.”

“My family in England was rich. We had so much money, so much land. My father was a Lord and Baron, who profited from war and was more interested in acquiring his wealth, distributing it for the purposes of fueling the crowns army.”

“Your father was a lord ?” He asked, eyes full of wonder.

“And I his heir. When the time came, I was to take all his land and wealth upon his death, and become the new Lord and Baron in his stead. But growing up, I attended Church more and more, and was taught that all things, people, monarchs and empires ultimately answer to God in Heaven. I knew my father was a lord, but I also knew the Father is the Lord.” I explain.

“Why aren’t we in England ? Why don’t we have land there ?”

“Because the Church, didn’t want me there. They wanted me out of Europe, and I gave up my inheritance to my younger brother Alexander, so as to better serve my true Lord and father. My brother was considered sickly and weak by my father, and in my first act of charity I gave him my fortune and land. Now do you understand ? What I gave up so we can have this land ?”

Greeshaw never answered with words, but only a look of confusion. Once again, I could never hold it against a child. I never could expect him to understand as such a young age.

To date, I only recall once instance, in which I was truly angry with him. On this day, when Greeshawn was nine years of age, he had given Angelica a gift. It was a silver bracelet, which he told us he found in the woods. That very evening, a neighboring family told us that Greeshawn has taken it from their youngest daughter, in return for a broken nose.

When we confronted Greeshawn, he confessed to doing such things the children of the colony for some time; taking their belongings, and hurting them when they refused, claiming that his status as the son of a Minister gave him that right. He had a collection of many such possessions he hid under his bed.

We had Greeshawn to confess to the Colony during the next church gathering, apologize to those he wronged, and return what he stolen. Notably, he confessed to beating a child over an apple. I told my son I forgave him, but he had to go through a penance. He was sentenced to do farm and house work for a year for those he stole from, so as to show he cannot take whatever he wants.

We worked him for a whole year before the next anniversary came. He told us he learned his lesson. That very night, me and Angelica woke up to find a live snake on our bed. Greeshawn awoke to the sound of his mother screaming, and took the snake and threw it into a our fireplace.

“I thought you’d like this gift.” He said with confusion “This one I did find in the woods.”

I forgave my wife for what happened to her sister, so I could forgive my son. Even more so as a child.

And I am proud to see the man he has grown into today. He is more caring, obedient, understanding; I believe it has to do with the birth of Erik Müller. Erik’s father Oskar is a good friend and loyal sheep in my flock. He was once a drunkard I saved from an early death in the gutter when his church turned him away. So it was only natural that son’s may share the same bond of their fathers.

Erik was born to Oskar and Hilda when Greeshawn was five years of age, but they didn’t start to bond until Greeshawn turned fourteen. There was a sickness, that unfortunately took Hilda’s life, and nearly took Oskar. While I was tending to Oskar’s grief, and tried to save him from taking the same drink that nearly took his life, Greeshawn bonded with Erik as one brother would another.

Greeshawn shown Erik what it was to provide for his family in his father’s temporary absence; he guided and taught him to farm, to hunt, taking him into the fields and forests for hours and return with food for a week. In Greeshawn’s own words “One must learn to be strong, so as to not be weak with grief.”

They would enter the woods, and return with deer, and elk and other animals. They’d take seven rabbits where an average hunt would take two. There where three instances, where they walked out of the woods and return with a moose, which Greeshawn dragged by their antlers.

And one particular instance, when they returned with a brown bear. When asked what happened, Erik would cry as he ran back to his home, when Greeshawn answers “Erik’s trap caught a bear cub. The mother almost caught Erik, and I caught the mother.”

Greeshawn and Erik worked together to be such efficient hunters and farmers, they where the largest providers for the Colony. Some farming families worked under their direction, and some hunters asked to follow Greeshawn in his hunting trips but he’d refuse, claiming that one day, he intends to follow my example and lead a witnessing campaign across the country.

Oskar has since started giving into sloth and the drink as Erik became the provider of his home as a farmer.

Recently, they have had trouble in hunting, for their traps kept getting picked, and one or two elk and deer have been stolen from hunting camps. Not enough to significantly decrees the food supply we’d get from hunting, but enough to annoy and wound Greeshaw’s pride.

There were reports of a wolf like creature prowling the forests and off the fields, but this wolf didn’t travel in a pack. It was described as being too small to be a wolf, but too large to be a fox, and had reddish grey hair.

This animal alone could not be enough to pick off the missing animals. Nor could it leave half eaten carcasses hanging from ropes in the trees.

This is why I write on this day, for this is the third memorable instance, that Greeshawn presented us with an eye opener on this anniversary.

Greeshawn entered the forest, in the morning, and on sunset he dragged with him his latest catch to our dining table.

“Father, mother, I come baring gifts.” he says as he drops before us a beaten and angry boy.

The boy was of twelve years of age, judging by his accent was of an Irish family. I did not recognize the boy, nor could I say he was of any family in this colony. Regardless, I had to speak out to my son, before I could question the boy.

“Greeshawn, what is it I taught you ? I taught you mercy before wrath!” I got up as I found my voice after my initial shock.

“He was like that when I found him.” Greeshawn shrugged.

Angelica and I got up from our seats to inspect the boy. His nose was broken. He was pale and sickly, and wore oversized, ragged clothes. He’s eyes where red as if he just finished crying, and his face as red with anger, and a little darkened by bruises.

“Careful mother, he’s feral.” Greeshawn warns presenting his hand that had a noticeable bitemark.

While Angelica tended to the boy, I had to reprimand my son.

“Greeshawn, what have I told you ? It was not acceptable for you to do these things to children when you were a child. What makes you think you have the right to strike him with such force. Did he strike you first ?”

“He didn’t make it easy, but what else is one to do for stealing food from the Land of the Spirit ?”

“Did he strike you first ?” I ask again.

“I caught that small wolf in a trap. When I advanced on it, the child lunged at me and bit me. They fled, I pursued, and cornered him in a cave.” He explains.

“And you hit him in retaliation ?” I ask.

“He was hiding in a cave when I found him. I did what I could to subdue him.”

I turn my attention toward Angelica, still tending to the boy.

“Angelica, he is to be bathed, clothed and fed before I talk to him. It looks as if there are still lessons that need to be taught.” As Angelica nods, and pulls the boy out of the room, with the boy still glaring at Greeshawn. I turn to Greeshawn, and this marked the second time in my life I was genuinely angry at my son.

“What in the bloodiest pits of Hell has gotten over you Greeshawn ?”

“He stole from out colony! We needed that food!” He tried to justify himself.

“We have food! We have plenty from farming and hunting, and it is our promise that no one on this land will ever go hungry!” I start to scold my son “You are not a child any more! You claim to want to minister to other colonies, but how do you expect to follow our Lord’s example with violence ? What have I always taught you ? The Lord’s example is what we give, not what we take!”

“But what of those who take from us ? Have you ever considered that you are to charitable ? You give, and give and give to the scavengers, and in doing so you will reduce us to scavengers! Has it ever occurred to you that a penniless man born in a manger may not be the best example of a Lord to live up too ?”

If there’s one thing I will not accept under my house, it is an saying of blasphemy. Before I realized what I did, I struck my son across the face. When I saw what I done, I couldn’t make the words to describe myself, but kept myself sober as a show of authority.

“You sit on a land of gold and want to waste it on others! How can you be so blind ?” He continues to glare.

“If you do not see the true prosperity around you, you are truly blind. Now go to my chapel, and ask the God you claim to serve for forgiveness and ask how to better follow his example. You will ask the boy for forgiveness either tonight, or when we introduce him to the colony.”

Later that night, Angelica set up a bed for the boy, who was already asleep. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I spoke to Angelica about what she knew. “He calmed down but is quite shy.” She starts.

“That should go without saying, we did just have him bath. Has he spoken ?”

“Yes, but very little English. He was mostly speaking in Gaelic, but he seemed to understand me.” She answers.

“Did he give a name ?”

“Jaralath Caulfield.”

The Journal of Jaralath Caulfield: October 2nd, 1625

I may be young. I might have been what these people call “feral” but I am not daft.

Do not think for a minute that I am ungrateful for charity, but I never took kindly to being talked down too. They spoke of me as if I was some precious eggshell. I may have been hungry, I may not have smelled like the most beautiful roses in the world, but I do not need to be coddled.

I was thankful for the bath, the bed and the breakfast, but the feeling that they saw me as some lost babe, didn’t make me feel so good.

I was living in that forest for the past three winters. I could hardly be seen as a child for going through what I went through. Or at least, I don’t think I should.

I’m writing here because the minister told me that I could be helped if I had some way of expressing my thoughts, even if I wasn’t ready to talk. I spoke plenty in his church, not my fault if they didn’t believe me.

It’s been how many weeks now, the ministers daft son intruded on my cave and home, tried to kill my friend and beaten me bloody and blue. I have seen angry bears that were not as ferocious. The minister sat me down the next day for a meal and asked me to talk about myself. I wasn’t ready to talk.

And I certainly wasn’t ready to talk but I was expected too in his church when he brought me before his congregation. I was terrified, more than I was in the woods. And I know they could see it. I thought I was in trouble for sure, since they knew me and my friend Arf have been stealing from their hunting traps and camps.

I did not believe it when the minister said they forgive me but they did.

I was still scared. I didn’t know these people. I never interacted with people since my parents. Yet, here’s these strangers gathered around me and expecting me to tell me the story of my life.

It should have been clear that I didn’t want to talk.

The minister’s wife saw this, walked up to me, crouched down to look me in the eye and told me it was okay to be shy. She was so friendly and had the sweetest smile. I couldn’t say no to her, but I was so scared of this people and I could barely find my voice.

So I decided to whisper to her. I told her what I’m writing here, because it’s easier than speaking to a crowd of people.

My da and mama hailed from Ireland, and settled here two years before I was born. They were friends with the people of this new world, but I couldn’t remember the tribe, but they were afraid of this area and usually didn’t come here. And they shared stories and legends of each others homes.

When I was a babe and a wee child, my parents shared these stories with me and we lived on a lakeside, a long, long way from this little village the minister set up. And just like these people, my parents lived off the land by farming and hunting.

My mama had this garden she tended too, and grew these beautiful plants and flowers around our land, along a fence she and my da built. My mama told me to never pick the flowers from the line, no matter what. We didn’t attend any church. My parents had their own stories and beliefs.

It was the stories I remember most from them, both from this land and their motherland.

They told me about the monsters on this land that their friends were afraid of.

First there was a kind of witch that could turn into any animal at will. They advised not talking or thinking about them.

They talked about the forest people – human like beasts that set up their own tribes. The bear people – which are like the forest people but with bear faces, which is where they get their name. The stone giants – which also looked like forest people and covered themselves with rock, sap and mud to make armour on their hairy bodies.

They talked about the wolf or dog people, that where more like wild dogs than people, but their power is to be feared.

They also spoke of the giants of the mountain – three times the size of a man, and act as guards over the land that the other creatures live under feared.

And finally they talked about a spirit that haunts these lands, that all creatures, even the giants fear. I don’t remember the name.

One day, when I was nine years old, I wanted to make my mama a necklace. I picked different flowers from different bushes.

I remember being told not to pick the flowers from the fence line. They were the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen and I couldn’t find those flowers in any other bush. I thought for sure she wouldn’t miss one flower from the fence.

I took one of those flowers and made the necklace. When I gave it to mama, she looked happy at first. The she saw the flower and got scared. She asked me were I found the flowers, and I mention the fence.

She and my da got nervous. They asked me what have I done. I didn’t know. They told me I had to hide. I was placed in the cellar, and I remember the loud and long drone I heard coming from the woods.

I didn’t know what was happening or what was going to happen, but thought if I could sleep through it, it’ll be okay. I never seen my ma or da this afraid. What I didn’t know was that hearing what has happening was worst than seeing it.

I could hear them fighting something, breaking into our home. It was like a pack of these dogs running loose above me. I cover my eyes and ears, and hoped it would go away. It must have happened for hours, before everything went quiet. I must have fallen asleep.

When I woke up, I wanted to make sure it was over, so I climbed from the cellar. Every door and window was broken, and everything was overturned.

Then I saw the bodies. I thought they were a kind of bear at first, but they looked like large wolves. Very large wolves, with human like hands. There were six of these things and whatever my parents did to fight them, it must have been vicious, since it looked like these wolf things were attacked by some kind of animal themselves.

I saw one had pinned down my da, and neither were moving. I heard my mama coughing, and ran to seek her out. She was sitting up on a wall, and bleeding. She was holding her neck, and had blood coming from her mouth. I will never forget what she said.

“Jarlath” she says to me “You’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.” I didn’t know what to say, I cold only listen “You have to leave this place. It’s not save here.”

I don’t remember the exact words, but I do remember that I started crying, telling her I was sorry, and how I don’t want her to leave me. Whatever I was saying, she stopped me by putting her other hand on my cheek.

“You’re gonna be okay Jarlath, you have to run. There is a village on the other side of this mountain. You have to live. For me and your father. The animals of the land will keep you alive.”

“But I want you to be with me.” I never forgot my last words to my mama.

“We will never leave you, even when you don’t see or hear us. When you see the stars, we will be looking back. When you feel the wind, that will be us standing beside you.” She breathed out before she finally stopped breathing.

I don’t know how long it took, but eventually I was running through the woods. I didn’t know where I was going, all I knew was the village my mama told me about was on the other side of the mountain, so I figured if I walked around the mountain I’d find it.

What I did know was I was being followed. I must have been running for a day, ducking and dodging trees, avoiding every other shape I could see. I ran even faster when I heard so much as the rustle in the leaves and a branch snap.

It is when I reached a clear spot beside a river, I saw another wolf creature. This one wasn’t like the big ones I saw in my home. This looked like just like a regular wolf, just small. But still bigger than a fox. It was carrying a jacket in it’s mouth.

I didn’t know what to think when it walked up to me and dropped the jacket on the ground. I picked it up and put it on. I still couldn’t understand what was happening, but it kept getting in my way when I tried to walk past it. It walked past me to the clearing and looked at me. I may not speak animal, but I had a feeling it knew where it was going and wanted me to follow.

I followed it up a mountain, where it took me into a cave. In this cave, a camp was set. I was tired and sore, so I figured it was asking I sit down. When I took my place at the camp, it left, and I was alone again trying to think through what happened to me and what was still happening.

As I was about to sleep, the wolf thing came back and dropped a rabbit. It looked at a knife beside campfire pit. I try to think back to how my da shown me to skin a rabbit, or my mother making a fire. It took some effort but I got it a small fire going, and found myself cooking the rabbit. I even offered some to the creature that found me. I even asked it it’s name.

“Arf” it told me.

I spent some time with Arf, the small wolf, and he has been as loyal a companion to me as any owned mutt. It spent days not only showing me how and where to hunt, and where to stay away. And lately, how to pick hunting traps and camps. And those days turned into three winters.

During that time, I’d see the very creatures my parents told me about in the stories and Arf made sure they didn’t see me or know I was there. But sometimes I saw a dark shape out the corner of my eye, and it wasn’t like any of those other creatures. I don’t think it was, since I never got a good look of it. It always disappeared when I looked towards it, but it was enough that Arf would lead me out of the area.

It’d even hear the wind blow, and sometimes hear a voice. Despite what my mama told me, it wasn’t her voice, and when I heard it, Arf would howl over the voice, like he didn’t want me to hear it.

We lived like this for three winters, when the ministers son chased us to the cave and beat me.

I told this very story to the ministers wife in the church, and when I did, I started to cry in front of the church people. She hugged me and told me she believed me.

This is why I didn’t want to talk to these people.

The minister had his son walk up to me and ask me for forgiveness. I don’t know this lad. I don’t know his beliefs. All I know is that this little shit beat me, and I knew he wasn’t really sorry, just apologizing to make his da and god happy. I could tell this by the look on his face and his voice. So with his church, parents, and hopefully his god watching, I spat in that mugs face.

Even with my shyness and embarrassment from the crying, that felt good. The minister’s boy looked like he wanted to strike me again, but a look from his da told him to stand down. He told the church meeting they were dismissed.

Later that day, the minister sat me down and began talking to me, telling me that I have found a new home and can find a new place in his colony. He had me stay with a german family, and work as a butcher along with the farmers. He also gave me a bible and encouraged me to read it. I spent some time looking at it, and find the stories in it interesting.

I ask him if he or his people, if they believe me about seeing the monsters in the woods. So far, the ministers wife is the only one who believes me. And yet they want me to believe their stories.

Every night I take the scraps of the butchers shop, take them to the woods, and give them to Arf, who was always waiting for me at the forests edge. And still I see a dark shape in or around the forests edge, but it would still disappear when I try to get a look at it.

And on some nights when the wind was blowing, I’d spot the ministers boy at the forests edge from my bedroom window. He looked like he was praying.