Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery

by Brom

neither one aware of the spiders, dozens and dozens of them, big and small, suddenly spooked from their hiding places and scurrying across the ceiling and floor. Neither one of them aware of the three small shadows hovering in the far corner of the room, watching them, waiting.

“The Pequot think me a magic man, a shaman; they call me Mamunappeht. But that is just a name. But these—” He gestured to the rows of masks. Well over a hundred of them lined the walls. “They are who I truly am. Each one contains a spirit, a soul.” He smirked. “In a way I am their guardian. Like you, they were tortured souls all. I have given them a place to harbor, a sanctuary to escape their torment. They live with me, in me. I am but the sum of all of them.”

“You were not always the Devil; you were once a great forest spirit and the wilderness was your kingdom. It is the wildfolk who twisted you, they who set the demons to you, they who begged Mother Earth to make you so.”

All the eyes, all the gods, they are all part of the same. Mother Earth, Christ, all the religious sects across the globe, the sun, the earth, the moon, the planets, the stars, man and beast, gods and devils, all of existence. All of it, one thing!