Past life - a child of the woods

Like my mother and two grandmothers, I had the devil’s kiss on my outer thigh. I shared their knowledge of woodcraft, knowing which bark cured a cough or a headache. I danced in the moonlight of the meadows with the fairies around me under the twinkling stars. Their knowledge of the future shimmered into my mind, and I shared it freely with my neighbors.

I dyed my clothes deep brown with the nuts gathered from the forest. I lived alone after my parents passed, content in my tiny cottage tucked into the mountain and protected by the trolls that lived in the nearby cave. The forest supplied all my needs. I wove baskets from thistles and sold them in the market for the few things I could not obtain from the forest. Salt, sugar, and flour were my primary desires from the village.

Others desired me, men and women, for my wild, blue eyes and flowing red hair. My figure enchanted many, but I did not desire an ordinary relationship. No man, or woman, tempted me, and I gently deflected the overtures for a tryst or contract. Rumors started as jealousy rose in many. I was encouraged to choose one, move to the village, and settle down. My passions ran to the forest and the streams.

A priest traveled through, spreading the good news of a Christian savior. Many put down their pagan ways and took up the cross. I recognized the powerful and accurate words from the holy book he carried and attended many of his talks. I accepted Jesus but still danced in the forest and swam the cold, mountain stream.

One day, the priest saw me swimming in the waters in my natural state. He longed for me despite his vows of chastity. I refused his overtures as I had all the rest. He initially accepted the gentle rebuke and returned to the village, but his words changed. They became more hateful and bitter. I had enough provisions to stay the long winter in my tiny cottage. I waited out the snow and amused myself by making small trinkets to sell in the spring.

During the winter, our priest stopped wandering and settled in the village. He took over an abandoned house and converted it into a church with a small apartment. He filled the villagers' ears with warnings of letting a witch live and killing evildoers. I sang to amuse myself that winter, oblivious to the rising hatred in the village toward the one who was different from the others.

The sun finally filled the sky for hours, and the snow melted. The new plants poked through the dirt. It was time to return to the village to sell my trinkets and baskets. No hearty greetings met me at the gate. No customers lined up to purchase my wares, and the local mill owner refused to sell me salt, sugar, and flour. I was bewildered as these were my lifelong friends who comforted me in losing my parents.

The blacksmith, who had always been kind to me, was the only villager to speak. He said to choose a husband that day instead of seducing all with my faerie looks and ways. I laughed as I had never encouraged any to pursue me. I left with no other conversation. The next day, the priest showed up on my doorstep, offering to take me in as a nun and his assistant. I could see the heat in his eyes and knew he meant to warm his bed at night.

Unwilling to give up my freedom and settle for a mediocre life, I joined the trolls in the cave in the mountain and bid farewell to my village. I lived a long and happy life, nanny to the baby trolls, and teaching my woodcraft to those willing to listen. Up until the day my soul passed into heaven with Jesus, I danced in the moonlight, swam in the cold waters, and read the Bible I lifted from the priest. It is a shame no one else read that good book and just took the priest’s word for what it said.