This is a story of the other – a basic tale, just another

Fable of the brother, border haunter, whom we’d rather

Never know, whose name we will not, cannot speak,

Lest he know we still remember and our places comes to seek.

‘A bleak December.’ Words more true were never spoken

Yet they are but barest token of the havoc he would wreak.

This other man (whose name we shun) is the not first true flesh-born Son,

Born of man and not of earth, born of her whose name means breath,

But his brother – the second ‘til his Lord, he chose him, chose the other

(First is nextborn), chose sweet blood o’er sweat of firstborn, choosing sacrifice

Of Lamb over work of human hand, chose last lifeblood over life’s work

And so quickly caused the slaughter of the other by the elder.

They claim the elder is the evil, caused all evil, was the Devil

But we here know he was lesser – crimes of passion rarely fester.

Vengeance is the worst of evils, lasts forever, never over.

And the other (resurrected, by the Lord who loved him over

Elder Brother, and thus now lives a half-life on the border)

Now seeks vengeance o’er the brother, he who slew him, his own brother.

He has lived his half-life for a lifetime and another

Never over, never dying - for the Lord in understanding

Granted him a life eternal, him to rescue from infernal

Fires (Lucifer was even then a mortal terror). For the other

Was the favorite of the Lord (who reigns forever), thus could not be

Let to die, like some poor mortal, like all mortals such as we.

But no mere human (he was human) could survive eternal life

And he didn’t, he went madder then the children of a hatter.

As he walked along the border ‘tween the world and our own lands,

He died slowly, became other. But the Lord, he did not notice,

For the Lord’s mind (it is constant) lays beyond the reach of madness,

And even if it didn’t, tell me, could we ever know?

So the other brother, first but last-born, went insane

As he trod along the border, in the never-ending rain.

His mind it wandered far abroad, South and East and West

And North, and far in Faerie-lands, and hells, and all the rest

He went insane and wondered who had caused him to live on,

But could not censor Lord on high upon the great eternal throne.

Then he realized his brother, he who sleweth him in slumber,

Caused the death from which he had been resurrected into this

Unlife which he could not, never, would not ever be released from

(For the Lord he loved him so that he would never rot (Release him!))

So against his brother’s offspring (The Lord still guarded Elder Brother),

Second-born swore vengeance past the hundredth generation.

So he lurked along the border, (the Lord on high paid him no heed)

And he killed those first cross-overs and he watched them slowly bleed

He felt the scars of likened wounds trace fire ‘cross his chest

(Even so the Lord’s own Son had death-wound scars, such as these)

And he felt a satisfaction that had never before been imagined

So Blood Lust entered the world, and all mortals hence have suffered.

The other kept up his killing and precious few have made the cross,

From this world unto the other, and this has been a life-long loss

Us children of the elder son are mythical (they think us gone),

The other world believes us dead (they never were) and moves along

Second-born knows this, and rejoices, he will rest when we’re forgotten

The children of the elder son, the Fae, the misbegotten.

The thousandth generation long ago has died away

Us few poor remnants forced to hide and fear the light of day

We hide between the borders of the Garden and the world

One never more to enter, and the other to be feared.

We cannot cross those age-old lines, (we yet fear retaliation)

The race of Fae shall die away, due to one man’s detestation.