On a night such as this, it was then that I sat crouched over my warming stove. I listened in awe to the sounds coming from just beyond the trees. My cottage was small, aye, but comfortable and clean. I was kept safe within when the harsh weather set in.
Sitting in a glen hidden between the ancient hills of Ostara, I waited for the coming of the Growth. I always knew it by the sounds it made, soft gruntings at first, then slowly becoming louder, almost as if female, the screams reaching an ever mounting crescendo awaiting the ultimate climax of labor.
I stood up from the stove, hopelessly drawn to the window. I gazed out through the foggy dew, straining to put a form to the escalating reverberations coming from beyond the trees. A shadow moved about the greenery, in and out, undulating with fear and then, suddenly, it was right in front of me.
The creature was huge, with slick grey hair covering it’s body. It had ears that were so long they seemed to touch the clouds. It’s eyes were an emerald green, with a mischievous glint that shone out, even when it was in pain. The corners of it’s lips curved up, as if in a constant state of sarcastic delight.
As I gazed out upon it, the Growth lunged forward. It’s eyes locked with my very own. It grinned even bigger, with it’s teeth reflecting the light of the candle in the window. I was entranced. The creature suddenly convulsed, it’s head drawing forward into it’s chest. It moaned, then let out such a cry as to wake even the dead themselves.
It turned in a clock-wise motion, slowly, moaning and groaning very softly. The momentum of the circling began to pick up. It reared it’s head blindly, no thought of what was, only what was to be. I became dizzy watching the creature, so fast was it’s movement.
Then it stopped. The Growth raised it’s rear end up in the air. I watched as a hole in the back began to bulge open. Then it closed. Another heave of the body, and the hole opened up again. Suddenly, the wailing began. The creature threw it’s head up, a cataclysmic choir of uproar emitting from it’s lips.
The hole was open now, no going back. A flower like object was emerging. Flower like, but solid, not leafy or with petals. A bit more, then even more. Out it came, an egg shaped flower, or a flower shaped egg. I could never tell.
The thing that had come from the creature landed with a softness on the thick grasses. It rolled ever so slightly, then came to a rest. The Growth panted, relieved of it’s burden. It began moving back into the forest, away from my cottage, into another time and place. As it moved through the brush, it cast a backwards glance at me, it’s lips curving up into a handsome grin.
“Happy Ostara Seamus!! Take good care of the babe. Next time, next time, it will always be. I am the birth of Spring, I am Eternity!!”
Thus began the tale of what is known today as “Easter”.
Text created by Susan Isabella Sheehan
“Art Is The Perception Of An Altered Reality©”
Copyright 2008 Surreal Digital Artist™
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Easter Sunday, 03/23/2008