I was a normal girl once, but that was hundreds of years ago. I certainly didn't think of myself as normal at the time, but whether or not I felt like I fit in with society back then, at least I never questioned my humanity. I didn't have many friends back then, but at least when somebody did say they liked me, I knew it was true. It was better than the terrified respect that I get from every human interaction now.
I am a monster now, and I must remain a monster forever. If I let myself die like a mortal, He will come to claim my soul which I promised him so long ago. I can never escape Him. I can only use the magic he gave me to delay my natural death by another day, another year, another century at a time. Can I last forever like this, or will this torturous, meaningless existence break me one day? Will I finally weary of this mockery of life to the point that His merciless clutches seem a better fate? I wish I knew the answer.
I was born as Morgana. That's it, just Morgana. My family wasn't rich or important enough to have a family name. In those days, only nobility or masters of a craft ever had a last name and my father knew no craft. I lived in a small village called Ash, on the very fringes of the Roman Empire. It was so far out and isolated that sometimes we wondered if the rest of the Empire remembered we were supposed to be a part of it.
Ash was under the protection of a lesser lord, Lord Abel, who we rarely saw. Don't bother asking after him. He never did anything to make history. The castle was old even then. Nobody knew who had built it or why its inhabitants had left. It was a testament to a day when civilization flourished here. No more. Not then nor now. It was too big for him and his few courtiers. Most of the wings weren't even maintained. Surrounding this castle was a village of about five-hundred people. Everyone knew each other.
It sounds nice, and I'm sure it was for most of the people there. But none of the children I grew up with ever liked me, but there were no other groups of children I could turn to for friendship. I was the odd one, always picked on, always teased. I never figured out what, exactly, was different about me, but it didn't help that my mother, Helen, was the most hated teacher at the school.
She was strict and unerringly religious. She rarely tolerated laughter or horseplay, even when it happened outside of school or church. She would spank children with the board for anything she considered an annoyance. Heaven help the child she caught doing something that actually was bad. Damnation and hellfire! She would terrorize us poor kids with her perverted style of religion. She convinced us that God himself would scorn us, that our parents would be happier if they had never conceived us, that nothing but an eternity of unbearable torture awaited us after this miserable life. Of course she was wrong about all the hellfire stuff. I was the only one her damning accusations ever turned out to be true for. But I'll get to that.
Having her as a teacher must have been bad enough, so try to imagine being her daughter. My father, John, didn't help much, either. He was good to me when he was around, but that was rare. I know he wasn't happy with life. Sometimes it seemed like I cheered him up a little, but it was never enough to ease his suffering. He managed the stables for a living. He worked long hours at a miserable job for barely enough coin to support the three of us. He always came home late, either smelling of horse manure or cheap ale. He wasn't an angry drunk, in fact he seemed a little less miserable when he had been drinking. It was a habit I often considered taking up myself, except I couldn't bear the taste.
So, with no real friends, a mostly absent father, and a mother I preferred to avoid, I spent a lot of time alone. I taught myself to read and write. Learning to read was rare for anybody outside of nobility or the clergy. School, which was only on Sundays, only taught us basic concepts of society and that forced version of religion that passed for truth there. Regardless, reading was something I picked up fairly easy. I was very smart, though I don't think anybody else realized that. The first book I ever read was the Bible. It was the only book any of us commoners had regular access to.
The reverend was happy to teach me how to read certain passages in his spare time. After all teaching the gospel was his purpose in life, and I suppose he was happy to finally have a child that actually wanted to learn from him. I didn't actually believe any of it. I only pretended to so he wouldn't think he was wasting his time on me. Eventually he did figure out that I was more interested in reading in general than learning scripture, so he told me to stop bothering him. Just like everyone else in my life, as soon as I failed to fit into his own agenda, I was of no more use to him. But by this point, I had learned enough that I could teach myself. I finished the Bible on my own. Eventually I stole a book. It was a book about the pagan gods of ancient Rome. The reverend wanted it to be burned for being heretical, but I managed to save it from destruction with nobody the wiser. I didn't believe this book any more than the Bible, but I still enjoyed reading it all the same. The stories were entertaining.
I did have a few friends, though nobody really close to me. Sometimes Susan would play with me. She was just a little older than me. She teased me when the other children were around, but at least she tolerated me when nobody else was there to see. It's like she thought being friends with me was something to be ashamed of. I suppose that didn't make her a very good friend, but beggars can't be choosers.
Even when it was just the two of us, I can't say she was particularly nice to me. We played by her rules, and I did what she said. In retrospect, perhaps she'd play with me because I was easy to boss around. Even when we were alone, she would play tricks on me. She'd try to get me to pick up a stick the knew had a spider on it, offer me a bite of food she had put dirt in. She'd laugh, then say it was just for fun. Actually, she'd get mad at me if I didn't fall for her tricks. And, of course, her tricks only got worse when others were around.
Yes, I talked to a few people and worked on a few things, but mostly I kept to myself. I hated Ash, so I often explored in the wilderness just to get away as far away from that miserable town as I could. Sometimes I thought of just picking a direction and walking until I found another place to live, but Ash was too isolated. Even if I had known the way to the next city, I had no idea if I could make it on foot.
My mother never asked where I was during these lengthy ramblings, and I don't think she cared as long as my chores weren't left unfinished at the end of the day. I think she was happy enough to not have to deal with me, to have me out of her sight and not bothering her. Maybe she hoped I would never come back. I don't know. Out there in the open wilderness, I could be whatever I wanted, and there was nobody to ruin my day. I could even be naughty, and it wouldn't matter. I could climb trees, throw rocks, get muddy, and nobody could stop me.
There was even a cave that I found in my wanderings. It was just a few miles out in the woods, just far enough from town that I didn't have to worry about meeting other people there by chance. In truth, I don't really remember how I found it. The time I think was my first time seeing it (I think I was around ten years old) I don't recall being surprised to find it, as if I had already known about it. Maybe it hadn't been my first time there... or maybe I had been led there somehow.
