Full Moon

This is the last night of the full moon.
Creeping through the darkness lay an old enemy. An enemy of the mind
and soul of every human being. An enemy that has lain dormant for many
centuries. Gaining a majority of mankind in 'Its' path, so much so, that I
can no longer face reality and fact in the same way.
Singularly, people try to dismiss the events that I am about to relay to you.
Though these people, when mounted together, provide a vast number.
It is not a number that can dissuade me from my beliefs.

Having fallen from grace at a tender age, I no longer believed the teachings
of our Lord. Instead, I turned my thoughts to the teachings of the Devil.
He fed me with the knowledge that I now possess.
He cleansed my thoughts in polluted waters. That pollution bringing with it
a new line in thinking. He took me through the torment that I had felt under
a God that seemed bent on destruction.
He paved the way to an eternal damnation. The only difference being, this
one had meaning.
No-one felt as I did. No other held in their hearts, that level of feeling of
hopelessness.
For hundreds of years, mankind has scorned the possibility of things such
as, werewolves, vampires, aliens and any other form of oddity.
Though man has no written document, there have been cave drawings since
(we presume) the dawn of mankind, that I believe , document the existence
of strange phenomena about our planet.
Should we sit back, night after night, waiting for our own destruction?
Should we sit back, asking ourselves who can stop the carnage?

The Devil incarnate walks among us. He -or She- takes on the form of any
normal ( and I use that term lightly) human or animal species. Disregarding
His cloven hooves, jet black eyes, horns, forked tail and crimson skin, that
we all imagine His image to be.
He (for we usually perceive the Devil as male) walks our streets as one of
us.
Only once have I met Him.

As I walked briskly down the old cobbled streets of the Devonshire village,
where I had been visiting friends. I had happened upon the most wretched
person I ever hope to meet.
His crooked frame and generally unkempt appearance, making me feel quite
unwell, drove me into a state of shock, never mind disgust.
Yet, behind his dishevelled physique, something intrigued me about him.
Whether it was the odd expression on his face, his misplaced grin perhaps,
or, the feint glint in his eye, I really couldn’t tell. But, for some inexplicable
reason, I felt I had to (against my better judgement) approach this odd man,
ignoring the fear I felt inside.
“Good evening.” I said, as dusk had long since passed.
At first he said nothing, just shuffled as he stared.
“And to you, squire.” He eventually replied. “I haven’t seen you round these
parts before.”
Now it was my turn to shuffle, though uncomfortably I admit.
“No! I’m just over from London, visiting friends.”
“We don’t get many outsiders around here.” he said.
Then let a rather eerie chuckle escape his thin lips.

Now, feeling even more ill-at-ease, I tipped my hat and bade him goodnight.
But, before I had a chance to carry on my way, he put hand lightly upon my
arm, though the grip was firm enough to stop me in my tracks.
“I couldn't possibly let you walk these dark, poorly lit streets with no escort,
Sir. What would you think of the local hospitality then,” he smiled.
Smiling back politely, I proceeded to walk, slowly at first, then quickening
my pace. So much so, that I thought, at any moment, I was going to burst
into a sprint. Not slowing, just keeping going until I had reached my host’s
home in which I was staying.
Still the man kept up with me, slowing when I slowed, speeding up when I
tried a hasty retreat. Though, by now I was breathing out hard, the little old
man seemed quite unaffected by our moonlit jaunt. Quite the contrary. The
faster we went, the more I think he enjoyed it. Seeing me out of breath that
is.
His eyes grew wider, appearing more demonic by the second.
Who was this stranger? More to the point, what does he want with me?
“Would you rather we slowed down?” he said, in a slightly smug manner.
“It’s such a cool, clear, moonlit night. A night for spirits to play, don’t you
think?” he continued, staring at me with an unnerving delight.
“I think, the sooner I arrive at the house, the better. As, I’m sure they will
be wondering where I have gotten to.”
I tried to meet his gaze, but found it impossible.
I tried not to show any signs of hostility towards the man. Who was, now,
being very mysterious and above all, annoying.
Taking a step closer to me, he said. “They say the Devil himself once walked
the length of this fare county. Stopping at nothing, to get where he was going.
They followed him, of course. The tracks went on for miles, they say. In the
snow that lay that night, on the rooftops as well as the ground.”
His smile returned as he seemed to look right through me, into my very soul.
“Do you feel pain?” He asked inquisitively. “Do you feel fear?”
These comments annoyed me some-what, and feeling the tension building up
inside me, I turned to confront the horrid little man that had been pestering
me all this way, fists clenched.
To my surprise, I turned in time to face –rather rudely- an equally squat form.
Only, this one had an angelic appearance, as oppose to the Devilish, demonic
features of my previous companion.
Unfortunately, it was too late, for I had already unleashed a ferocious verbal
assault on the poor man now before me, unable to stop myself in time.
When I came to my senses, I apologised (red faced) to the little old man.
I’m glad to say, he laughed it off with a smile.
“The man you speak of, I have met many a time on this very road.” He then
replied in a soft, pleasant manner, after I told him of my journey.

Once again I apologised.
“That’s why you came to be a witness to my embarrassing behaviour. I hope
you accept my humblest apologies.”
We stood talking for several minutes, before I suddenly felt the air around us
grow colder. Fearing for the elderly gentleman, rather than my own welfare, I
enquired whether he had lodgings for the night.
“Oh, yes!” he said, thankfully. “The world is my home.”
I looked ahead of us, contemplating my own journey, and for the first time in
a while, whether I would, once again, meet the strange old man from earlier,
and where he went. He just seemed to disappear, as the kind old gentleman
arrived.
He was obviously a good omen.
On wishing him a safe trip, and, may God go with him, he took off his hat and
smiled.
About to continue on my way, I turned to see that he had already made it to
the other end of the track safely.
I could only stare in disbelief, as the strong, bright spotlight cast by the moon,
revealed the legs of the old man were not those of a human at all, but were,
in fact, those of an animal. A goat to be precise. My eyes widened.
As he reached the end of the track, he looked back, and in the moonlight, he
grinned.

Since that night, I have come to question my beliefs.
Is there a God?
Or, is it just the two personalities of the Devil?
In short. Are God and the Devil one?
At times, it seems that way.