The night is not truly dark. Not while the moon and the stars shine their light.
There are those that wait for the true darkness to come, those that seek nothing else in life because the light has shown them things they did not wish to see, those that wish for the peace of the dead, in a cold, eternal world.
These people live by the sea, awaiting their false god, saying quiet prayers to end the moonlight. They shun noise and stay as silent as they can, fearing any sound that may lead their savior from its prize. Their gospel of endless night echoes in their minds.
Who are they? The lost, the forgotten, the afraid. Much like their god.
It is old, far older than the land that its worshipers walk on, far older than the sea that it calls its home, and far older than the usurpers it will one day devour. It remembers the worlds before the coming of the light and it will remember a time when the light has been fully decimated, when darkness will reign.
They will stay by the seashore until the last days of light are upon the world. When their lord will rise up from the depths of the sea and fly towards the light of the day and the light of night. They wait for the moment when their false god’s jaws encircle the usurpers.
When all will know the true peace of darkness.
————————–
Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Story inspired by Baconaua entry in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.
Baconaua Illustration by Leandro Geniston fromAklat ng mga Anito
FB: That Guy With A Pen
Watercolor by Catherine Chiu
FB: Wildling Child
IG: https://www.instagram.com/