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All pages and content copyright Wolphin, 2004
Please do not use without permission
Sheep go baa; Cows go moo.
Keywords: Transformation
Species: Mythical, Human
The Mark of the Divigon
This story came about after hearing tales from my father
about the Divigon living in the loch near the farm in Ireland. In
case you don't know, a loch is basically a lake, but they don't
call them lakes, they call them lochs (pronounced lock) (and spelt
loughs as I discovered in 2001 on a trip) And yes,
the farm, loch, and locations all exist. As for the other bits in
the story one can only hope...
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The Mark of the Divigon
by Wolphin
I wondered around the isolated loch, not paying much attention to
anything specific, mainly lost in my thoughts. The green hills of
Ireland rolled off into the distance. Up on one hillside there
was a clump of trees. I knew that hidden beneath them was the
farmhouse where my father had spent his holidays. His father was
born in the ruins that could be glimpsed to one side and his
father had build the house. Countless generations of my ancestors
had lived within a short walk of this loch, while today my family
is spread out across the globe.
It was strange to think I was following in some long dead
relative's footsteps. This place was so isolated. There was only
myself, the gently sigh of the wind and a constant murmur of small
waves breaking on the shore. The only sign of civilisation was
the cluster of trees on the hillside. From here you could not see
the road winding over the back of the hill. The old stone walls
looked more like they had grown from the land rather than been
built.
I reached the point where the stream trickled out of the loch and
down to the sea. The coast was quite close and, when the wind
blew from the right direction, you could hear the muffled roar of
the breakers.
Leaving the loch I headed uphill, through the heather towards the
crest. It was only a short walk and once at the top I could see
for miles. The overcast sky painted the land in muted greens.
Grey granite rocks stood like sentries, guarding the coast. The
waves crashing against the shore blowing up a fine mist which was
slowly making its way inland.
Smiling to myself, I marvelled at the stark contrast of this land
to my native Australia. I could almost picture a leprechaun
skipping through the greenery, selkies mixing with the seals on
the islands and other phantom creatures waking from myths and
legends. For a moment I held my breath, desperately hoping
against hope that my scientific scepticism would be proved wrong
and indeed there were such creatures hiding in the world and they
were about to show themselves to me.
Alas, as on other occasions, nothing manifested itself. The wind
continued its relentless sigh, the waves continued to crash
against the shore and twilight approached as the golden glow of
the sun slipped below the horizon.
Pulling myself to my feet I headed down to the shores of the loch
and back to the house. Twilight was something new for me. In
Australia we have night and day. The transition takes about
twenty minutes. In Ireland they have the twilight. Day ends and
the night seems to hang back for a while, sometimes for a long
time before sudden sneaking in on you. Going dark at ten at night
took a little getting use to, but now I was enjoying it.
It allowed me to explore during the day, then still get back
without having to use a light. It was quite easy to see, sort of
like looking at the land through a dark pair of glasses on an
overcast day.
Trudging through the heather back to the house, I caught a glint
of metal from the ground. Moving my head around in the poor light
I managed to pinpoint and home in on it. Parting a clump of
heather I peered down at a half buried piece of metal.
Breaking off a twig I teased it out and brushed it against my
shirt to clean it a little. It looked a little like tarnished
sliver and had a pattern embossed or engraved across it, but more
than that, I could not make out. Shrugging to myself, I pocketed
it and continued to the house.
Eymond opened the door for me.
"The long lost cousin returns," he announced with a grin. "Have a
nice wander?"
I nodded.
"Yeap," I replied. "Just down around the loch, then up the hill."
He nodded.
"A nice view from there. Tomorrow, we're going into town at
around ten, you interested?"
I shook my head
"Sounds good," I replied. "I'm off early tomorrow, probably
around dawn. I'm hiking up to Gweedore, I suppose to be meeting a
friend, but no guarantee. That should take us a couple of days,
then I'll drop back here on my way through to Dublin."
He nodded again.
"That's right," he said. "Don't ask me why you're going to
Gweedore, I don't know what is special about that place."
"Well," I said with a grin. "Neither do I."
We had made our way into the kitchen and Eymond automatically
threw another lump of peat onto the fire and gave the pot simmer
on top of it a slow stir. I moved to the sink, drew out the piece
of metal I had found and began scrubbing it under the running
water.
He looked over my shoulder.
"What's that?" he asked.
"I don't know," I replied. "I found it on the hill on the way up
from the loch."
As the dirt was removed we both peered at it.
"It looks almost like a broach or something," Eymond ventured.
I had removed all the dirt and gently dried it on a towel before
moving to under the light to study it. It was metallic, about two
inches in diameter, but with rough edges, almost like tendrils.
Each tendril formed the edge of a complex Celtic pattern which
entwined itself about a symbol engraved into a small patch in the
centre. I was guessing, but I don't think it was silver. It had
a silvery sheen, but also glimmered a greenish blue if flickered
against the light.
Eymond drew in a breath when he saw it.
"Nice," he almost whispered. "Very nice. I bet someone was
annoyed when they lost it."
"I bet they were too," I replied. "Do you have any idea what it
is?"
He took it from me and studied it carefully.
"Hmmm, no marks on the back," he muttered to himself. "Plus no
where to tie it on to anything."
After a while he handed it back.
"No idea," he said. "I was going to suggest a broach, you know,
the sort which they use to use to hold their clothes together, but
there isn't any way to fix it to anything. That would mean you
would probably have to either have it embedded into something or
carefully tied on. Either way would be pretty risky. That is
probably how whoever lost it."
"What about the symbol in the centre," I enquired.
He looked at it again.
"It looks like a mark of a house or a clan," he began. "Probably
the sort of thing someone had on their saddle to impress the
people they were trying to kill. I'd say its a couple of hundred
years old."
He smiled.
"Congratulations, a real piece of Irish history."
I grinned and stuck it in my pocket for future study at a later
date.
That later date turned out to be about a hour later. I was
looking through the bookshelves and found a number of books on
runes, symbols and marks of Ancient Ireland. Saying goodnight to
Eymond I headed up to my room and laid the books around my bed.
Slowly and methodically I began to identify the centre symbol. It
took a great deal of searching, but eventually I managed to track
it down. According to this ancient text it was the Mark of the
Divigon, whatever that was.
After sneaking in a few more trips to the shelves without waking
Eymond I discovered what the Divigon was. According to a book of
Irish myths, it was a creature similar to the bunyip of Australian
mythology. A deliberately vague creature, seemingly invented to
scare children away from dangerous places.
For example, in one town the children were warned not to go near
the river because of the Divigon. In another town it was the
steep cliffs, yet another had a Divigon inhabiting the islands
offshore.
One infuriating thing was the lack of a description. There was no
mention of what the creature was suppose to look like. Was it big
and hairy? Did it slither on scales? Another thing which annoyed
me was the seemingly conflicting reports about what the creature
was suppose to do. Yes, all reports agreed that it was scary
monster, but in some reports it saved people, while other cases
had the people dragged to their doom.
However, one thing I did not find any information on was why was
its mark embossed on my piece of metal.
Yawning, I piled the books on the floor. Any more research would
have to wait until morning.
That night I dreamt of strange beings lurking in the undergrowth
of Ireland.
I was up early the next morning, bag packed and ready to begin my
hike I wandered down the stairs to join Eymond for breakfast.
Over tea and toast I asked him if he had heard of the Divigon.
"Oh sure," he answered. "A lot of us folk in these parts know of
the Divigon. It is drummed into you as a child. 'Don't go near
the water or the Divigon will get you.' It never stopped us mind
you."
He grinned.
"Why do you ask?" he enquired.
"Oh," I replied. "Its just something which I stumbled across
looking through some books last night."
He nodded and we spent the remainder of breakfast catching up on
family gossip and getting hiking trips.
A short time later, I hoisted my pack and disappeared across the
heathland. Eymond had said that if I kept on moving this way I
would have it pretty easy. There were only a few farms in the way
and the owners did not mind you marching across them as long as
you did not disturb anything.
If everything went according to plan I would meet Michael the
following day at a pub. Failing that, I was suppose to stay at
the pub and drink to his absence. Michael was great on drinking,
that is why I half did not expect him to appear.
The day was uncharacteristically warm and in a few hours I found
myself shedding layers as, for the first time, the sun shone down
on me. Around midday I stopped for lunch. It was a simple
affair; bread, cheese and a drink.
I was making good time as well, so I decided to rest up for an
hour or so and enjoy the view. Leaning back on my pack I pulled
out my mysterious piece of metal and stared at it again. It
definitely looked like some form of jewellery. Vainly, I held it
up as a necklace, then as a bracelet and even as a broach, but
nothing seemed right. As an idle thought I lent back and placed
it on my forehead as a head piece.
It was slightly curved and easily stayed there, feeling warm and
smooth against my skin. I smiled and fantasised myself going into
battle, the mark of the fearsome Divigon emblazoned across my
head, my opponents cowering in fear. I was always one to over
dramatise.
Holding my watch up, I decided to continue my trek. Reaching up
to remove the piece of metal I was alarmed about how it did not
want to be removed. In fact, it seemed to be stuck to my skin.
Pushing and prying it hurt. Not sure what had happened, I
rummaged in my pack for my mirror.
Holding the mirror up to my head I drew in a sudden breath. The
piece of metal had begun to burrow into my skin. That is probably
the best description I could give you. The centre symbol still
stood out, but each of the tendrils was under my skin. I could
see it spreading outwards, leaving a web of tiny trails which were
beginning to snake across my head.
It did not hurt and in one way I was fascinated by it. However,
in another, I was horrified. At first I tried to pull out the
small piece that was still above the skin, but the rest of it was
too far ingrown. Pulling at it felt like I was pulling my skull
apart. Changing to a different tack I tried stopping the tendrils
from spreading. At first I pressed a finger down in their path,
but they just burrowed underneath it. Then I tried grabbing a
tendril, but that did not work either.
At this stage, they had covered all of my forehead and were
working their way down my face. Each tendril began to split and
spread out on its own. The speed of their covering increased as
they grew. I watched in a mixture of awe and horror as they wove
down my arms and across my hands. Lifting my shirt, I watched as
them moved down my chest and along my legs. Shrugging off my
shoes, I was just in time to see the last of my feet entwined in
their grip.
Then everything was still.
Tentatively I poked at the ridges under my skin with a hand. They
were soft and yielding, but matted together and unable to be
separated. At first I thought they had just covered my body as
they pleased, but as I stared at my hand I became aware of a
pattern. Once you knew what to look for, it was obvious. It was
some strange Celtic thing, very similar to the entwined pattern on
the piece of metal which started all of this.
The piece of metal!
I grabbed my mirror and started at my face once more. What looked
back was quite bizarre. It was still recognisably me, but this
pattern radiated out from my forehead, covering everything. As
far as I could tell, only my eyes looked human.
This thought went through my face and, being a young male human,
it naturally lead to the following thought of "What about 'down
there'?" Undoing my belt and pulling down my trousers exposed the
effected region.
I let out a groan.
That too was covered. The same Celtic pattern ran its entire
length in small ridges. I poked at it. It felt relatively
normal, I guessed it would still work. Grinning to myself I
thought of those condoms you can buy that are 'ribbed for her
pleasure.' None of that for me from now on.
It was about then that the pain hit. It began at my forehead. A
sharp pain which began to spread. The tendrils seemed to be
channelling it across my body. I looked down at my hands to see
the patterns under my skin beginning to glow. They began as red,
but quickly faded to a white, which grew in intensity as the pain
increased.
At first I fought it. Closing my eyes and willing it to go away,
but it refused to subside. Instead it became unbearable.
Hoisting myself to my knees, I lifted my head and screamed in
agony. My scream echoed across the baron hillsides and as it
faded, so did the pain.
I collapsed to all fours and slowly opened my eyes. The first
thing they saw was a silvery green hand clenching at the dirt. My
eyes travelled up the arm of the hand and found it attached to my
shoulder. Gone was the familiar pink human flesh. Instead, my
skin was now an almost metallic looking, very light green. The
flesh had also vanished, replaced with the tendrils which had
implanted themselves under my skin. Twisting my head around, I
noted it was darker on my back, but lighter on my chest and
stomach. That was when I also noticed my clothes had disappeared
along with my skin.
I lifted one hand and studied it carefully. The pattern had
formed itself almost into, for lack of a better word, interlocking
scales. I poked at it with a finger. It was sensitive, I could
feel both it and my finger, but also strangely cool and smooth.
I was twisting my hand around, watching the pattern dance over my
body when the next stage hit. This is very hard to describe. At
this point I suppose I looked liked a painted human. The next
stage changed all that.
I first noticed it on my hand, probably because I was paying it so
much attention. The tendrils which ended at each finger tip,
suddenly intertwined and grew out from my fingers, creating very
wicked looking claws, which darkened to a polished grey. Ridges
began appearing up my arms, I felt something happening to my now
bald head and I reached up to feel ridges spreading over my head
and down. As they reached my lower back, a thick tail literally
emerged from the base of my spine and extended for several feet
behind me.
I looked down at my legs and watched similar talons emerge from
each toe and another from my heel. The muscles in my legs seemed
to writhe grotesquely under my skin as the change progressed
towards my newly formed tail. As it reached my groin, I watched
the tendrils suck my member into a well protected sheath which
emerged from nowhere.
Next I felt my face twisting. Turning once again to the mirror I
watched silently as my nose and mouth pushed outwards, forming a
muzzle. This forced my eyes to either side and I had trouble
focusing on the small piece of glass. My tongue split, but I had
little difficulty exploring my growing fangs with it forked. My
ears slid towards the top of my head as a pair of horns emerged
and curved backwards, down my slightly elongated neck.
Behind me I felt more movement and a pair of silvery wings
sprouted from my back. As they grew to full-size I spread them
and surveyed the green grass of Ireland with my silted orbs.
Feeling the change complete, I opened my eyes and let out a true
roar of triumph. Crackles of magic lacing like lightning across
my skin.
I was contemplating my new body and what to do next when a bright
point of light appeared a few metres away. It grew quickly,
forming an arch about my height from which a human head appeared.
It was definitely female, with long flowing blonde hair which
cascaded around her shoulders. Noticing me, she smiled.
"Greetings," she said in a lilting Irish accent.
She moved forward and I suddenly noticed that from the waist down
was the body of a horse. She was a centaur.
"Errr, hi?" I managed to mumble out of my new, but strange mouth.
My voice was deep, but mellow and it seemed to fit my new shape
very nicely.
She ran an eye over my changed form.
"Oooh," she said with a grin. "I don't think I've seen one of you
before. Can I ask what you are?"
That caught me a little off guard.
"Ummm, a Divigon I think," I stuttered back. "But I'm not sure.
It just sort of happened while I wasn't paying much attention."
She giggled.
"No," she replied. "You made it happen."
I must have looked a little perplexed because she continued.
"Mystical beings, supernatural creatures and magic have all but
gone from this world. Instead, humans have rationalised
everything with their science. We were in danger of being wiped
out my physical laws, so rather than become vague memories, we
left."
She gestured to the glowing arch and beyond.
"Here we have our own universe, governed by our own lore. Most
humans like to think it exists, but few ever manage to find a
entry point to it. You are one of the ones who have."
"I did?" I mumbled.
"Of course you did silly," she grinned. "Just have a look at
yourself. Your entry point was that trinket you found, coupled
with a longing. Do you look like something that belongs in the
world you just came from. Or do you belong in the world of magic,
long forgotten creatures and myths?"
She paused and I thought it over. She did have a very valid
point. I was about to answer when she continued.
"Imagine yourself at a fork in the road," she said. "One fork
leads back to your human existence, the other leads on to the life
fitting your new form."
She smiled and backed into the portal.
"The choice is yours," she said as she faded from view.
For a moment I stood on the barren hillside, thinking it over.
Then, my mind made up, I turned and stepped though the glowing
arch, disappearing from one world forever.
------------------------------------------------
And as some seriously useless information. The story my
Father told me about the Divigon was he was told it inhabited the
loch and not to go near there. Naturally, everyone ignore it and
always fooled around on the waters edge. One day my Father was
down there fishing and a duck floated by on the surface. Suddenly
there was a boil, a splash and the duck disappeared...
After that he was never sure if the Divigon was a myth or
not...
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Legal Stuff: All pages and content copyright Wolphin, 2004 Please do not use without permission Sheep go baa; Cows go moo. |