Memories I

I remember my humanity though it was an aeon ago.

Or do I? Perhaps I have invented memories to fill the void of my early years. In any case, once I was like you. Born to this world like any other and raised by loving parents. A strange concept is love to me now - my mind stumbles over the word and struggles to attach meaning to it...I remember the word then but nothing more...

So what should I say of my childhood? I had a comfotable upbringing  for the most part. My father was a merchant trading with the north for much needed iron to furnish the war effort. He used to joke that war was bad for trade. I would ask then what was good for trade. He would answer, war my son. War is good for trade.

Being better off than most I was fortunate to have an education. I learned to read and write and showed particular aptitude for mathematics. History interested me. Religion fascinatd me.  The concept of faith still does. Even now in the face of the grim reality that our world is ruled by demons that care nothing for our salvation, there are still those that cling to the belief that their souls will somehow be saved by a mightier deity. They are wrong to think this. Where will faith of that sort get them? Dead is where. And their souls, far from being saved will writhe in agony. You think I jest? That perhaps I am basing my statement on some whimsical theological argument? No. I have a soul in a small jar beside my inkwell here. I prod it occassionally. The screaming eases the turmoil in my mind. No doubt this soul had belief in something  once.

I digress, where was I? Oh yes, my childhood, well another time. His lordship calls....