The Others

The Others

Have you ever walked beneath the high & leafy canopy of a deep Forest? Everywhere, at the corner of your vision, you can sense movement. The unnatural quiet works upon the imagination and conjures up images from the surreal. You always think that you have just missed seeing something. It is from these "almost sightings that the legend of the "Others was born.

The mountains of Norway, with their high forests, cascading streams and sparse population are a perfect stage setting for the birth of the legend. If something is missing, the others must have taken it. Something broken, the others did it. Variously called trolls, ogres and other names, the others are the stuff that keeps wide-eyed children awake under the covers, listening fearfully to the chilling moan of the night wind. All children have been told that the trolls will come and get them if they have been bad. Some days children, who have been less than good, know that the trolls must be coming for them.

Trolls are a manifestation of the deepest fears within us. During the daylight hours, adults like to make fun of the legend and tell amusing stories of the supernatural. When night falls, and the imagination goes into overdrive, not even adults ever speaks of the "others. Perhaps we remember a time long ago when our ancestors huddled for warmth around a smoky communal fire in the deep recess of a mountain cave. Somewhere in the dark of night, the far cry of a wolf would raise the hair on the back of the cave dwellers necks. The wind outside screamed like a Banshee's wail and the elders would spin tails of dread that left the young ones wide-eyed with terror and huddled close to their parents. The adults, outwardly amused, were none the less uneasy at their own remembered visions of imps and trolls abroad in the night.

In more recent centuries, when mysticism faded from our collective psyche, the others became stylized figures in a web of mythology spun around campfires on long and cold Northern nights. The darkness and the cold always serve as eloquent echoes of the fearful, primitive mind. Successful entrepreneurs capitalized on the legend of the others and created an array of misshapen trolls and imps. They marketed them as harmless little urchins whose image was rendered benign by such saccharine cuteness.

But, the next time the lights go out at night and the wind is moaning in near human agony, remember that what occupies our daytime consciousness may not be all that shares space with us on this lonely planet. Perhaps there is a race of mischievious beings who exist at the far periphery of our vision. Maybe those missing keys, or that lost glove of yours, are part of a treasure horde held deep in the forest by "the others who watch us carefully as we walk by. So, when next you are walking deep in the forest and the hairs rise on the back of your neck, look carefully about you and walk very quickly on your way.

Joseph Xavier Martin