"The time has come, my son," the woman said.

"The time has come, my son," the woman said. Her dark eyes shown with anticipation.

"I...I do not understand, mother," Chakrii replied. He was nervous. His mother had never acted in such a fashion before.

"Follow me," she said, leaving the cool walls of their palace home and stepping out into the muggy summer heat. The sounds of insects and water were everywhere. Without looking back, the dark-haired woman intoned, "It is time to claim your birthright, Chakrii."

The prince was quickly becoming worried. His mother seemed to be walking and talking as if she were in some sort of dream. As they crossed the narrow bridge across the palace moat, she seemed to almost be floating. He reached out and took her dark brown hand. A deep rumbling sounded all around him, but he ignored it, more focused on what was ailing his mother, the queen.

The anxiousness and worry were apparent in Chakrii's tone. "Mother!"

Dark eyes drafted around but finally settled onto the prince's face. "What is it my son?"

"You must tell me what this is about. I fear for you. You are acting...strange." Chakrii didn't quite have a word to describe his mother's behavior. He had never encountered such before.

The queen looked to the sky, where only a sliver of moon rode in the sky. Her dark orbs trailed to the moat and the many pairs of eyes gleaming there, in the wan silver light. Finally, she looked back to her son. "As I said, my son, it is time to gain your birthright."

"I am not the King. Not yet. Father still lives, despite his sickness."

The dark woman laughed, her head thrown back. "That weak man is not your father. You are the spawn of King Chalawan and now-" she pushed her son into the mire-filled moat, where hundreds of crocodiles waited. She continued, her voice rising to drown out her son's screams as he underwent the rite of transformation. "Now you shall take on your true form, and rise as the new king of Thailand, and the world!"

When Chakrii rose from the muck, he was much changed.

Art Source: "Crocodilian Brawler" (c)/by KatieHofgard
Story and Characters: (c)/by Brannon Hollingsworth

#MMWW, #Makes, #Me, #Wanna, #Write, #BrannonHollingsworth, #Thailand, #legend, #Chalawan, #Chakrii, #Queen, #King, #crocodile, #originstory

"Father, why do men fear the Old Willow Tree?"

"Father, why do men fear the Old Willow Tree?"

"That is a good and wise question, my son. A question that demands as it's answer a story."

"A story? Oh Father, please tell me!"

"I will, son. I will. It all began many years ago, during the dark times when men were more savage and barbaric than they are now. Bear in mind, my son, that this does not mean that they were lesser men than are we. No difference could be greater, in fact. These men were our betters in every aspect. They were stronger, quicker, and smarter. They were more wise and more crafty and far more skilled than are we."

"Then why are we their lessers, Father? Have we not learned from what they have left."

The old man smiled. "You are wiser than many your age, my son. One who is wise would assume this, but for one thing. These men in these dark times were also more given to their selfish natures than are we. They did not adhere to the Light and the Truth. As such, they cared nothing for their forefathers or their sons. They cared only for themselves."

The boy's eyes widened and his jaw fell unhinged. "Savages," he exclaimed.

The old man nodded and then continued his tale. "Yes, so it was in these dark times that one man in particular, Count DuLenz, greatly desired to possess a maiden, the Lady Adela, for his own. The Count was a man who had everything that coin could buy or blade could obtain, and yet in his wicked heart, he burned for the one thing he could not have - the betrothed of his brother, the King Theodric. For a long time, DuLenz held this desire secret in his heart and it tormented him.

"Then, one night, when returning from a raid, the Count built his camp beneath the boughs of the Old Willow Tree."

"The same one? The one by the River Fell?"

The old man nodded. "The very same one, although the river had a different name then... As the Count made his camp and built his fire, he spoke to himself, out loud, of the things he desired most, and of his hatred of those who held these things from his grasp. To his ill fortune, a Fell Grigori sat amid the branches of the tree that night."

Again, the boy child was overcome by surprise, and a touch of terror. "What? A Watcher!"

The old man nodded sagely. "You are wise to show your concern, my son. A Grigori is not to be trifled with, and a Fell Grigori even more so. The corrupted denizen of Heaven had heard the desires of the Count, spoken aloud, and now he could act upon them. He promised to give DuLenz the desire of this heart, if he would first cut out the heart of the King."

"The War! This is how the Brothar War began!" The boy cried, light dawning in his eyes.

The old man nodded again. "Yes, my son, and so began three hundred years of bloodshed and conflict...and that is why men fear the Old Willow. It is said that the Fell Grigori perches there still, angry and hungry that his prize has not yet been delivered..."

Art Source: "The willow devil" (c)/by Reicheran
Story and Characters: (c)/by Brannon Hollingsworth

#MMWW, #Makes, #Me, #Wanna, #Write, #BrannonHollingsworth, #oldstory, #legend, #fatherandson, #Watcher, #DuLenz, #KingTheodric, #Grigori, #FellGrigori, #TheOldWillow, #BrotharWar

"Yes. More than anything and anyone in the entire universe, I despise the Feathered Serpent!"

"Yes. More than anything and anyone in the entire universe, I despise the Feathered Serpent!"

I pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose. Not that it mattered any. This crazy Aztec Demon had requested near total darkness for the interview. "Uh. Excuse me, Mr. Mictlantecuhtli? You'll need to speak directly into the microphone here." I tapped the mic for emphasis. I was not sure if this guy...er...being could see or not, or even if he used physical eyes to see.

The ancient South American entity shifted a bit and cleared its throat. It sounded like cinder blocks in an industrial-sized blender.

"You were saying..." I urged, wanly.

"Quetzalcoatl is a lying, backstabbing thief and I want to eat his heart!" The lord of Mictlan, the Aztec Realm of the Dead roared, slamming his clawed fist down, rattling the walls.

I checked my phone, secretly hoping that one of the resumes that I'd sent out or posted had been picked up by someone. I tried to sound interested and asked, "And why is that?" I knew what he was going to say before he started. All of these ancient beings were basically the same. So and so, Lord of Such and Such took my thingy and won't give it back...or he ran off with my wife...or he tricked me into doing something that I really, deep down wanted to do anyway. You'd think gods and demons, with infinite lifespans and phenomenal cosmic power, would have something better to do.

Like a never-ending, eternally-spanning dysfunctional family.

"Because of the bones! He stole the bones of Mankind from my Kingdom and tricked me at my own ruse! I challenged him to fly around Mictlan four times while sounding a trumpet I'd made from a conch. But of course, I did not want him to have the bones, so I tricked him by not drilling holes into the conch. But that blasted Feathered Fool then tricked ME by..."

I sighed. I'd really thought this gig with National Demonographic was was going to be great.

Art Source: "aztec demon speedpaint" (c)/byKostya-PINGwin
Story and Characters: (c)/by Brannon Hollingsworth

#MMWW, #Makes, #Me, #Wanna, #Write, #BrannonHollingsworth, #Aztec #demon, #legend, #interview, #NationalDemonographic, #Mictlan, #Mictlantecuhtli, #Quetzalcoatl