CREN CRU'S MONOLOGUE: Meredith Burton

We feel him but do not know him. We hear him but cannot understand. Blindly, we grope, searching, searching. We always find something, but that something vanishes despite our attempts to keep it close.

She was so lovely, our mother and queen. Great Meadhbh, who held us in the hollow of her hand, mining our rich, ochre clay like precious rubies. To our essence, she mingled that of her cohorts, and we drank, partaking of their sorrow, imbibing their lives. You who hear us, know that we act out of desperation, that we seek what we no longer have. Have you not also sought? Do you not understand?

Ah! Once again, we hear him, a voice that cries out for us to understand. This voice seems to say he will give us what we seek. But, our queen’s voice haunts us, and the voices of those we can help clamor for attention. You who are listening, do you, likewise, hear many voices? What voices do you heed?

The minds we inhabit struggle against us, of course, their valiant efforts amusing. They cannot escape us, and, truthfully, they do not desire to do so. With little effort, we can exert control. Yet, there is one mind that is more stubborn than most. The red wolf within this mind is rather irksome, but the struggle is a welcome challenge. We cripple the wolf and listen to the anguished howl of desolation. Soon, we will find what we seek, and the one we have disabled will help us. If we were capable, we would laugh at this irony.

The bronze Circle is complete, but there is a complication. A king comes. But, what a king! So very different from what we expected, so utterly unkinglike. Can we truly be expected to take this monarch seriously?

What is this? He asks us to relinquish our hold? Lunacy! Have we sought so long only to leave this land? The idiocy! You who hear us, would you so easily relinquish that which you had struggled so long to obtain? Do not insult our intelligence! Do not lie!

Running! Groping! Feeling blindly about. Behind us, the paltry king pursues. We will kill him, and his blood will flow like—

Ah! What is this? The wolf stirs, the red wolf whom we— NO!

We hear him, and we see him, a bird and a hound. The wolf! She is—All is fading away. You who hear us, know that we only wanted what was no longer ours. We sought what he always sought to give.

Home.

  

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