Supernatural...

Interestingly ‘supernatural’ was a term only coined during the thirteenth century. (Latin – supernaturalis). It can be, as I have learnt this week, best defined as those things which are above, beyond or against nature...

He never thought it would end like this.

He expected a desperate, wretched end with fear clogging his veins and panic stealing his breath. He thought he would continue running until he was no longer able to stand. Instead calm enveloped him in a gentle caress. He remained still except for a slight shifting from foot to foot as he eased the aches that threaded through his muscles.

He had run at first. Instinct guiding him to flee. The sheer persistence of human nature stubbornly snatching at all remaining life.

It was fruitless though. And so now he waited.

Once his rapid flight had ended he became aware of the unnatural stillness of his surroundings. Not even a breath of wind stirred the leaves which created a dense canopy above him. He had long ago ceased to recognise the landscape. An unyielding line of upright trees spread anonymously before him.

Then he heard it. Softly at first, but increasing in proximity. And then he saw it. Gleaming strangely in the darkness.

He laughed.

Alone, but for the soft bleating and dense shifting of the beasts in his care, the shepherd was the first to feel it.

The wind tugged suddenly and strongly at his tunic. The icy exhalation rocked him back and forth on his perch at the crest of the hill. His skin puckered with gooseflesh and he instinctually rested his hand upon the wicked blade sheathed at his side. It was an unnatural cold. A cry pierced through the serenity of the early summer night. It reached a shuddering crescendo before stumbling into silence.

Turning his back to the familiar valley he did not have to wait long before he heard the answering howl.

The old monk carefully incised a small mark on the clay pot he held. He was checking his stores of herbs in preparation for the long summer days which would make his garden bloom. The door to his peaceful solitude suddenly burst open, clattering loudly as it bounced off the wall. Startled he fumbled the pot and winced as it cracked upon the stone floor. The leaves he had spent hours drying, crushing and preparing scattered messily around him. Sighing he turned, checking the door was still attached to its hinges, before addressing the novice who clutched the wooden frame.

“What is it?” He asked with mounting curiosity, any annoyance forgotten as he noted the waxen features of the young novice and the slight tremble of his fingers which rested upon the door.

“There’s been...They found...” The words stuttered out as the curly haired novice drew in great gulping breaths.

“Calm yourself Thomas. Here sit down.” The old monk gestured towards the little stool from which he cleared a number of miscellaneous items that he’d long ago forgotten the location of. Hesitating in the doorway the novice shook his head almost impatiently.

“I mustn’t. They said I was to fetch you directly.” He looked desperately towards the older monk, his eyes practically begging the stern figure to understand his incomplete message. With teeth firmly biting down on his lip it was only once he registered the metallic taste which filled his mouth that the young novice finally blurted out: “It’s just so unnatural!” Slumping against the sturdy support of the wooden door he finally uttered the dreaded words with a heaving sob -

“The beast has claimed another victim.”