Memoirs of the Supernatural - Phase 1 - Sigil 3

Welcome back!

I’ve got your attention, haven’t I?

Yeah, I’m was talking about creatures. The ones often thought to be nothing but a glimpse of mere imagination of tall tales parents tell their kids to make them go to bed early. I know, it sounds crazy and given all what I told you earlier about my unordinary childhood and pure black-eyed guests at the orphanage makes me sound like a nutcase. But do trust me dear, it’s all true.

While being my temporary guardian John and I spent most of our time together in the same room. We often discussed Yellow Eye and his squad of Team Smokey. I started calling them that after one of them appeared in our motel room and left the body of the host boy in the image of black smoke. John did some investigating and discovered a few things starting with the race of those hellish creatures. They were the minions of non-other than the Devil himself.

By the time he made the discovery the PD also found out about his little cheating with the papers proving that he’s in fact not a government agent. John had no choice but to run and leave me behind but he wasn’t foolish and knew that he stepped into something major. I was just a kid, almost the same age as his youngest which was even more reason not to leave me unguarded. And of course anyone will not do. My new foster family had to be made of people who knew what to do in case the demons return and thankfully John knew just the man for the job. Well, not exactly.

John took me to the Claytons, a hunter family known for their excessive knowledge on beasts, monsters and whatever your heart desires. In their spare time they also hunt men in Africa who think that they are gorillas and can communicate with chimpanzees. Jokes aside they’ve been in the business for generations, some say even centuries. But the youngest man of the family wanted a change and to leave that unhealthy ghost killing lifestyle behind. His name was James and he was married to a woman named Emma. Boy what a shipping name those 2 could have had… Anyways, Emma wasn’t capable of giving birth and they have been longing for a child. So naturally John contacted them and told James about my situation. It was on him and Emma whether to take me under their care or to refuse. Fortunately, they agreed.

Everything was good. I had a family, John got out of England without complications and the Claytons were happy with me being around. That is until some strange happenings boycott our relationship. James and his wife said that an outlandish humanoid figure came at night and offered them salvation: Emma could get pregnant and actually give birth. The catch was simple: they had to give me up.

When I was younger I thought that they just wanted me to get out of their lives and mask their shame by telling tales so that they won’t hurt my feelings even more. Or just Emma expected a child and there was no room for me anymore. It took them a few weeks but eventually they did as they were asked. James took me to an elderly couple’s cabin in the woods and from then I lived with them.

“Trouble childhood” that’s what psychologists call my case. First it was the children’s home, then John Winchesters, then the Claytons and right after the old folks. I wasn’t even 10 years old and I already had a huge list of people I had to send holiday cards on Christmas.

At least it wasn’t so bad. The elderly pair of love-doves were kind, kept me well and educated me in every way they saw fit considering their occupations. The man, Milton taught me how to play the guitar, read Ancient Greek and Latin while his partner in crime Demy was the one in charge of teaching me how to draw what I used to call “magic barrier circles” and craft amulets alongside with other goodies. The most important subject however was monster-lore which was a 50-50% job for the both of them. (If you haven’t guessed that already they were hunters too, the retired kind. Just throwing it out there to clear things out.) That was our way of “home-schooling”. Oh yeah, I almost forgot: I wasn’t allowed to go to school at that time. Public education was considered too risky while going to church wasn’t. Typical.

To be fair we didn’t go there every Sunday, just every once in a while, but I enjoyed it. I get to meet people, even a few boys and gals of my age and sing songs publicly with others, not just with Old-Man-Milton. The painted glasses and walls wasn’t bad either. I spent hours and hours looking at them and figuring out the stories they were supposed to tell and think about every aspect of the fight between men, angels and demons.

I must say, knowing what I know made religion a whole new experience. Thought I never quite understood why was my past relationship with demons a forbidden topic. I didn’t do anything wrong and even if I did I was just a kid. Yet Demy gave me an order never to mention a word. Not even during confession. The thought still makes me giggle. Think about it. What would the priest do if he found out that years ago a Yellow Eyed man and the literal underground Black Eyed Pease were my besties? Start an intervention? Lord, the image that popped into my head is just too funny for the kind of talk I’m about give you. Spoiler: the upcoming chain of events isn’t gonna be happy.