(BEKALE) I. The Other

I.THE OTHER





I peered through the window of my home of just less than fifty years impatiently as rain began to steadily pour from murky skies above and upon the antiquated streets of Bekale; A old settlement hidden just a few kilometers west of Bobcaygeon, Ontario.

Most of its old dirt roads leading towards the short main street stretch had been closed off some time ago by its denizens, or grown over as the elements washed its features clean away. And if one was to pass by on the roads framing Bekale's whereabouts they would only see the tarnished bronze cross from atop the old Vantod Christian Church's tower spire peering over the woods that had almost completely surrounded it.

However if you were ever to set food on its streets you'd discover its rather large population of unsophisticated, and unkempt people all of which dwelt within the town's timeworn townhouses.

They had chosen to remain reclusive, and to avoid publicity, harboring their own series of unsavory town secrets – hoping to keep what they considered the 'taint' of the modern world's 'enterprising evils' out. This had been something carried since nearly the beginning of Bekale's history, though I hadn't been something I showed enough interest to delve into.

A group of traveling vagrants passing through the nearby town had informed me Bekale's had come to be extremely hostile towards outsiders before my arrival. Sometimes resorting to extreme acts of violence when travelers had overstayed their welcomes and rumors had come about that told of lynch mobs tearing down the doors of those who dared stay in their run-down hotel for more than a week.

Even more outlandish tales went as far as blaming the disappearances of children, and men during Bekale's construction on a supposed hoard of winged creatures sent by the devil, now sealed in some great vault located just beneath the church; however when I had arrived in the spring of 1960, I found started to realize the town hadn't much minded the presence of a stranger so long as I wasn't bringing any of the 'forbidden things' they spoke of.

I became quite comfortable within over the years even if the townsfolk had suffered from a nearly constant state of paranoia, for whatever occurrences of injustices they had hid or fear of could not compare to the secret that had drove me to so strongly desire isolation.

Any man of greed or science could claim that it was preposterous of me to assume my gift to be a curse, after all who wouldn't wish to possess the ageless miracle I had unwillingly received? And I was sure that if I had bothered with fortunes or scientific causes great things could have been obtained or discovered over the ninety two years I had spent in my perpetual state of youth; though I hadn't been a man with interest in either of these things, only wishing to pursue what was necessary for my own comfort.

I had only encountered one other in my time; a peculiar eastern woman using the name Delilah Aionios. We had met in 1959, aboard the trade-ship Moirae, heading towards Point Harbor, North Carolina after gathering its usual cargo of cotton from a trade point in India. She hadn't been much out of the ordinary; carrying only the  features one would expect to see on from a Indian woman, usually with their darker skins and strong black hair - hers having been kept well and nearly to the backs of her knees.

I found myself overwhelmed by a confusing assortment of scattered information upon our first meeting, from what I could gather she had been sent by someone or perhaps something with the way she spoke. Suddenly she began to panic, constantly looking over her shoulder anxiously as if pursued. She put her hands quickly on my shoulders, looking into my eyes, and spoke fateful works in which I follow to this day.

  "I am like you, and you like me – wait but half a century, and a millennium of knowledge I shall bestow upon you".

I stood for a moment bewildered; somehow this very regular Indian woman had known of the agelessness I had possessed and perhaps bore the same cure. Though before I could question her any further, in hopes of deciphering her cryptic message and the slew of information she had given me, the woman slung herself off the side of the Moirae and swam off into the distance.

Moments after the ships security had asked me if I had seen a woman of eastern decent on the ship, it seemed she had been a stow away, the ships workers had discovered her only moments before our encounter crawling out from between crates in the ships hold.

Weeks later I decided to quit my work aboard the Moirae and adhere to the worlds spoken to me that day. So now I wait here in Bekale, waiting restlessly for these fifty years to finally come to a close – and perhaps then I may find the answer as to how I came to bear the agelessness, and who or what could have possibly bestowed such a thing upon me.